The Cotten Stone Omnibus: It started with The Grail Conspiracy... (The Cotten Stone Mysteries)

by Lynn Sholes

  “Mr. Jackson doesn’t play video games, Devin,” Tor said.

  Devin put his hands in his lap and rocked—his focus just barely to the left of Tor.

  “What harm could it do?” Ben said, trying not to be too pushy. “Maybe he’ll be more cooperative.”

  Tor turned and looked at Ben. “Maybe.” He hesitated a moment as if giving the idea some thought. Turning back to Devin, he said, “Did you hear that? Your new buddy is going to join us and watch you play. Now will you come, Devin?”

  Devin stopped rocking and stood.

  “Things are getting better already,” Tor said. He walked to the door and opened it. “Right this way, gentlemen.”

  Ben fell in behind Devin as the three left the dormitory. They entered the much larger room Ben had only glimpsed earlier. The first thing he noticed was the frigid air—cold enough to see his breath. He assumed this was to keep the rows of computer equipment from overheating. He and Devin followed Tor past twenty-five rows of six-foot metal racks as they made their way to the other end of the room. Ben estimated each row ran for more than fifty feet. He found the overwhelming hum from the electronics to be unsettling. Thousands of tiny, multicolored LEDs blinked back from the dark rows of equipment like alien eyes. Ben noticed no one else as they walked along, but felt that Tor could not be the only one here. And he had seen the man in the red windbreaker in the woods and just before his crash. This was much too big an operation for just one person.

  He stole a couple of glances at the ceiling confirming the placement of the jet nozzles—just like the ones in the data storage vaults of his hospitals many years ago before the banning of CFCs. But the regulations did exempt certain critical users such as the military. If that were the case here, and the Halon tanks were still armed, then his plan just might work.

  At the other end of the room, Tor led Ben and Devin up a flight of metal stairs to a second level of what Ben guessed were once offices—each with a large window overlooking the electronics room.

  In the short time that they had walked from the dormitory, Ben’s teeth had begun to chatter. “Do you have to keep it so cold?” he asked.

  “Those mainframes would melt down in no time if we didn’t,” Tor said. “Besides, you get used to it.”

  “Maybe you do,” Ben said.

  Motioning the two into the first office, Tor closed the door and flipped on the overhead florescent lights. It was significantly warmer in the office, for which Ben was grateful. Casually, he glanced at the light fixture. Right beside it was a Halon nozzle.

  Inside the room was a desk and chair set up against one wall with a PC, keyboard, monitor, and joystick. A couple of other folding chairs were against the opposite wall.

  “There you go, Devin. The latest version of Company of Heroes. Have a seat. You’ve got the usual thirty minutes to blow up some bad guys. Then I’ll be back to get you started from where we left off yesterday.” He patted the back of the chair and Devin sat.

  Within a moment, the sound of WWII tanks and planes filled the room as Devin moved through a virtual burned-out battlefield somewhere in the European Theater.

  “Sit, Mr. Jackson,” Tor said, motioning to a handful of metal chairs along the wall. “I’ll be back soon.”

  As he started to leave, his cell phone rang. “Yes.” Tor listened for a moment. “Okay, you’re only about twenty minutes from here. Stay on the county road that runs along the edge of the Ozark National Forest. The main entrance to the old military base will be on your right. It looks all closed up. Don’t worry. Just wait for me at the gate and I’ll meet you there.” He listened again for a moment. “Any problems getting the thodium through security?” A final pause. “Good. See you then.”

  Tor pushed the walky-talky button on his phone.

  “Yeah?” came a male voice.

  “Come up to the game room and watch the kid and Mr. Jackson. I’ve got to go meet the courier.”

  “Right,” the voice replied.

  Ben heard the clank of footfalls on the metal stairs. The bearded man in the red windbreaker appeared. Tor spoke to him in a hushed voice, then headed down the stairs. The man grabbed one of the chairs from the game room and placed it just outside the office, its back to the observation window.

  “Can’t stand the sound of those games,” he said, closing the door behind him.

  Ben heard a clunk and knew the door had automatically locked. He stared at the back of the man’s head until he was sure the guy had mentally drifted away.

  “Devin,” he said softly. “Don’t turn around. Keep playing your game. We need to change our plan.”

  The boy continued to manipulate the joystick and keyboard. Ben wondered if he had heard him.

  “Devin, did you hear me?”

  Devin stopped for a second and shook his hands. Then he went back to blowing up tanks.

  Ben walked over behind the boy. Placing his hands on Devin’s shoulders, he said, “Okay, here’s what I want you to do.”

  tracer

  “That’s correct,” John said into his cell phone. He gave Cotten’s number to the Venatori section chief at the Vatican Embassy in Washington, D.C. “It’s a Nextel Motorola iDEN equipped with AccuTracking.” While he spoke, he nodded to Cotten.

  They sat on a bench under a massive mossy oak along the banks of Lake Eola in downtown Orlando. A huge circular fountain that reminded Cotten of a UFO dominated the center of the lake, spraying plumes of mist into the warm, Central Florida sun. Mothers with strollers, inline skaters, and tourists moved along the park paths surrounding the twenty-three-acre lake.

  “We’re ready to make the call. Get back to me as soon as you have a location. Thanks.” John snapped his phone shut and turned to Cotten. “We’re all set.”

  “I’m nervous,” she said, shifting her gaze back to the fountain in the center of the lake. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Just what we discussed. Ask them why they want to harm Tera. See if they would like to meet and discuss.”

  “It sounds so easy now.” She wrung her hands. “But when I get on the line, I know I’m going to fall apart.”

  An elderly couple walked by conversing in Spanish. Once they were out of earshot, John said, “Okay, let’s do it.”

  Reluctantly, Cotten took his phone. She opened it and stared at the keypad. Who would answer? Man or woman? They would see the caller ID and know it was from John. She had to show confidence in her voice. No hesitation. No stammering. John had told her to be in command and control.

  She gripped the phone firmly and dialed her cell phone number. Bringing the phone to her ear, she listened while she looked into John’s eyes, thankful that he was with her.

  One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

  Hi, this is Cotten. I can’t answer your call right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you real soon.

  Beep.

  She held the phone close to her mouth and said. “What do you want with Tera Jordan? She’s just a child. Leave her alone. Leave her mother alone. They have done nothing to you. If you want a confrontation . . .”

  John shook his head.

  “Why don’t we meet?” Cotten continued, holding her voice steady. “Call this number. I’ll talk to you. Stop harassing Tera. Leave her alone!” Her voice rose in pitch with the last words. She took a deep breath, closed the phone, and scrunched her mouth. “Bad?”

  “No,” John said. “You got your message across. We knew they wouldn’t answer anyway. No surprise there. Now relax and let’s see what happens.” He stood. “Let’s get some lunch.”

  Cotten handed him back his cell. Would they return her call? She gave it as good a chance as meeting the aliens from the UFO fountain in the middle of Lake Eola.

  _____

  “They’re going to let us stay for free, Ladybug,” Lindsay said as she and Tera stood at the door
to room 14 of the Dos Palmas Motel, a few miles south of Key Largo. “Isn’t that the best news?”

  Tera shrugged. “I guess.”

  Lindsay stuck the key in the lock and opened the door. They stepped inside and she flipped on a light switch. A lamp glowed on a bedside table. The room was small and worn—way overdue for new paint, furniture, and carpet. The refrigerator was compact, half the size of the one at home, and the oven and stove combo was also a midget version. It would do. The guy at the front office said they were in the process of renovation, but Lindsay saw no evidence of tools or workmen anywhere on the grounds of the out-of-the-way, rickety old motel in the Florida Keys.

  The deal she had made with the manager was a free efficiency in return for housekeeping, running the laundry, and a bit of bookkeeping in the front office. The job was seven days a week, but the motel had only twenty units. The manager had assured her she would be done by mid-afternoon each day. Probably a lie, she thought as she put away their meager belongings into the dresser drawers. She supposed a lot of people came down here to disappear just like she had.

  Tera plopped onto the bed and used the remote to turn on the TV. The image was snowy. “What’s wrong with the picture?” she asked.

  “You have to adjust the rabbit ears, sweetie,” Lindsay said, pointing to the two metal wands sticking up from the back of the set.

  She had never expected to live like this, but at least she and Tera were safe. They didn’t have to register or use her credit card. She had given fake names and she hadn’t been asked for any ID. She’d be paid a small, off-the-books cash compensation—considerably less than minimum wage—enough for food at least. They would get by.

  While Tera played with the rabbit ears, trying to get a decent picture, Lindsay stood by a window overlooking Florida Bay. Across the shuffleboard courts, through the palm trees, she could see the gentle lapping waves. Suddenly, she felt empty and spent. Her life had come down to a tiny, grimy room in a 1950s motel. She was no different than the burnouts, the dead-enders, the baby-boomers still stuck in the sixties who found refuge in this part of the Sunshine State. She had a gifted daughter who just might be going crazy, and there was no word from Cotten Stone.

  Lindsay felt alone, abandoned, helpless. Trying to mask her sobs so Tera would not hear, she covered her mouth and cried.

  _____

  Cotten and John had just finished their sandwiches at the Terrace Restaurant beside Lake Eola when his cell phone rang.

  “Well, here we go,” he said, pulling it from his belt clip. “This is Tyler.”

  Cotten had been watching a few of the swan-shaped paddle boats cruise around the edge of the lake as she sipped her tea. Listening to John’s conversation, she tensed in anticipation of what the GPS location tracer had found.

  “Really?” His eyebrows rose. “You’re absolutely certain? All right, I appreciate the extra effort confirming it.”

  “Well?”

  John closed the phone and shook his head. He stared out over the lake for a moment then turned to her. “You’re not going to believe this one.”

  “Try me,” Cotten said, feeling like she was about to explode.

  “They had no problem tracing the location of your phone. But the result was so . . . unusual, that they ran it three more times.” He leaned forward as if his words would be heard by everyone in the restaurant. “Your cell phone is in Washington.”

  “Yes?”

  “In the White House.”

  halon

  Ben pressed down on Devin’s shoulders to get his attention as the boy continued using a joystick to wreak havoc across the virtual French countryside.

  “Remember how we were going to get into the security system and make the fire alarms go off tonight?”

  “Fire, fire, fire,” Devin said, never losing a beat with the game.

  “No, no, shhh. Don’t talk. Just listen.” He leaned over Devin like he was closely watching the action of the game. “We have to change our plan. I want you to make the alarms go off in three minutes—in 180 seconds.”

  Ben looked back to check on their guard. The man had resituated his chair and now faced them. His eyes were fastened on Ben.

  Ben waved at the guy in a friendly manner and returned to his position over Devin’s shoulders. He hoped he could get the kid to understand without giving away his hand. They needed to take advantage of Tor’s absence.

  “Okay, Devin,” he said softly, patting the boy’s back as if he were congratulating him for some win in the game. “Make the alarms go off in one hundred eighty seconds. Then set off the Halon five seconds later. But—and this is very important,” he said resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders, “make the gas go off only in this room. Can you do that?”

  Devin nodded. He paused the game and opened the control panel to change the game’s settings. At the same time, he opened another window displaying the facility’s internal security configuration settings.

  As he did, Ben checked his watch and positioned himself to make certain he blocked Red Windbreaker’s view of the computer screen. Ben wasn’t a computer whiz and couldn’t tell what adjustments Devin made. He could only hope.

  “Devin,” Ben said in nearly a whisper, “as soon as you hear the alarms, be ready to run to the door. That guy is going to come in to get us. When he does, the Halon gas will go off. I’ll take care of him while you run out of the room. You’ve got to get out fast or you won’t be able to breathe. The gas replaces all the oxygen in the air. Understood?”

  The boy had already gone back to the game. He nodded as he blew up a German tank.

  Ben prayed the kid understood and would do as he asked. But Devin was unpredictable, and other than the kid nodding, Ben didn’t see any convincing indications that Devin did comprehend. He couldn’t force an eyeball-to-eyeball conversation with Devin while under the guard’s scrutiny. All he had to go on was the kid nodding his head. Ben clapped the boy’s shoulders as if in reference to a move Devin had made in the game. Then he whispered, “Once you’re out of the room, run down the steps and find a door to the outside of the building. The system should unlock all the doors automatically. Get out and head for the woods. Don’t stop. Don’t wait for me. Just keep running. Do you understand?”

  Devin nodded again.

  Ben stood behind Devin until there were eighteen seconds left. “Okay. I’m going to go sit down. Remember, when the alarms go off, get ready to run.”

  Ben walked back to his chair. He nodded and smiled at Red Windbreaker as he did. I hope you like a chair in the face, asshole.

  Casually glancing at his watch, he dropped into the folding chair and stretched his arm across the back of the one next to him. Slowly, he gripped the top.

  Five seconds.

  Ben felt his pulse race. Sweat poured from under his arms. This was it. The boldest move he would ever make. Much more so than standing in the courtroom and denying with a blank expression that he did anything wrong when he hid billions of dollars in debt and wiped out thousands of employees’ retirement funds. Much more so than faking his own death. This would be the most important moment of his life—saving an eight-year-old boy from certain death. The closest thing to redemption that he—

  The alarms screamed and strobe lights flashed around the computer mainframe room below while revolving red emergency lights swept the walls with a scarlet wash.

  Devin froze in his seat, frantically whimpering and waving his hands near his ears, shaking his head.

  “Devin, get up!” Ben yelled, then grabbed the boy and yanked him to his feet.

  Devin blinked repetitively and dropped his hands by his sides.

  “When the door opens, run,” Ben said. “Ready?” Ben grabbed the metal chair by its back and held it up, prepared to swing at Red Windbreaker.

  As the man opened the door, the Halon discharged from the nozzle overhead, its e
ar-splitting hiss resembling the launch of a rocket. The normally colorless Halon formed a white cloud as the sudden release of pressure cooled the gas when it came in contact with the moisture in the air.

  Ben swung the chair full force. It struck the man in the face and chest, sending him flying against the window.

  Devin was still rooted to the same spot.

  “Run! Devin, run!” Ben screamed. As he pulled the chair back for a second swing, he felt the first stab of the heart attack. Its sledgehammer force hit him so hard that he doubled over. Straining to stand, he saw Windbreaker stagger forward through the Halon fog, blood flowing down his face, his arms flailing at the air.

  Ben shoved Devin toward the door. “Run, damn it!”

  As the man took a step toward him, Ben swung the chair again, slamming it into his assailant with all his strength. He heard the unmistakable sound of bones cracking. A grunt from Red Windbreaker told Ben he had struck a devastating blow.

  Just as quickly, the pain in Ben’s chest exploded. He sank to his knees, knowing that he too had been dealt a fatal blow. The sound of the screaming alarms seemed to fade. As the lack of oxygen blurred his vision, he remembered standing on the bank of Stone Creek Lake at sunrise. A morning mist lay across the slate-flat water. Beside him stood the doe, her eyes calm and tranquil. In them he caught a glimpse of his redemption as he faded like a shadow in the forest

  the carlyle

  “General,” the president said as he looked across the table at the head of Central Command, “I appreciate the frankness in your report on the war on terrorism. Your detailed analysis was both enlightening and thought provoking.”

  The president, along with his cabinet and a number of visiting military officers, sat in the Cabinet Room of the White House as the forty-five-minute meeting came to an end.

  “And Madam Secretary,” he said turning to the Secretary of State, “I trust that you will deliver my message to the prime minister in no uncertain terms?”