by Karen Randau
“I don’t imagine the owner gets many visitors way out here,” I said.
“Those aren’t there to watch for people. They’re game cameras.”
“It’s a hunting cabin?” I raised an eyebrow at Cliff, waiting for his response. “Frank Miller is a hunter?”
“Maybe.” He took several photos with his cell and texted them to Ronald.
“I thought Frank Miller lived here full-time. No one seems to live here. Not even part-time.” The knot in my stomach returned.
We backtracked, walking the mile and a half on a well-traveled road to a breathtaking luxury home built on a hillside.
It looked like a European chateau surrounded by pines, oaks, aspens, and various kinds of northern Arizona grasses and wildflowers. Sandstone shingles formed a wandering walkway to an enormous wooden door with stained glass lilies decorating the sidelight windows. In the front, a cobblestone driveway led to a two-car garage. The cobblestone continued to the side of the house.
The outside walls were a mixture of stone and stucco, with a fire-resistant, slate tile roof, three rock chimneys, and multiple skylights. Ten broad steps led to a wraparound deck that held a glass table surrounded by six cushioned chairs. Two-thirds of the way across the front, a wooden deck surrounded a dormer with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a stunning mountain view. Beyond that was a guest house about a quarter of the size of the main house.
Bars covered the windows on both levels of the main house.
“Why would they put bars on these windows? That’s something people usually do in the inner city.” While staring at the wrought iron on the only upstairs window with a light, the curtain fluttered.
Cliff’s voice cut into my thoughts. “Maybe they expect unfriendly company. That’s also why the windows in the main house are bullet resistant.”
Without moving my eyes, I asked how he knew.
“See how thick they are? They have layers of glass and polymer. They’re not as transparent as the guest house windows. Someone spent a ton of money to fortify this place.”
“It can’t have any resale value out here in the middle of nowhere.” The curtain moved again.
“I don’t imagine resale is what they had in mind,” Cliff said. “They prepared for a battle. It’s owned by a company that makes nothing and has a fake address in a tiny town no one would ever think to look for them.”
A slender hand parted the curtain that held my attention. “Cliff,” I whispered. “There’s someone watching from up there.”
I gestured up as the anguished face of my paramedic friend Taylor Finnegan appeared. She looked from side to side, pounded her fist on the window, tried to open it, laid her forehead on the glass, and disappeared.
“Taylor’s up there.” Everything inside me wanted to run toward her. Instead, I grabbed Cliff’s arm. “We have to get her.”
He grasped my shoulders and moved me behind a tree. “I’ll check on the other side of the house, take a few pictures, and send them to Ronald. It’s time for him to send in backup. You stay here out of sight. Do you have your gun?”
I patted the pistol concealed in my waistband, kept my eyes on Taylor’s window, and tried to think of a way to get her attention if she came back.
“Promise you’ll stay right here.”
I promised. He drew his gun, forced a round into the chamber, and skittered from tree to tree in a path toward the back of the house.
An elk grazed in the distance. If that animal could be that calm, so could I. I took three deep breaths.
Activity on the left side of the house drew my attention and caused the elk to bolt.
A man with a gray-streaked beard stood in the bend of the circular drive. He looked both ways, stretched, and returned to the house.
He was the CDC biochemist I met with Taylor in Cliff’s Phoenix hospital room. She seemed afraid of him. Now I knew why.
The sight of him sent chills up my spine. I wanted to call for Cliff, but I didn’t dare. I moved closer to the tree trunk, peeking around to keep an eye out for Cliff. I wanted to get out of there.
A dog growled behind me. Or was it a coyote?
As I turned toward it, someone’s fingers dug pain into my shoulder, followed by a poke, and a sting. I fell to my knees, sank toward gray hiking boots, and heard a squishy sound as my face hit the dirt.
A dog’s black nose nudged my forehead, its moist breath making me queasy as darkness overtook me.
42
I woke with my back against three decorative pillows on a beige bedspread with rust-colored flowers. All four walls of this stranger’s bedroom accented the color of the flowers.
Wrought iron lamps stood on an antique dresser and matching nightstands with marble tops. To my left, a white wingback chair with rust polka dots sat in front of rust plaid curtains parted over dark-wood French doors and sidelights.
It took a minute of laying on the bed and staring at the lush greenery beyond the translucent windows to remember where I was.
Or where I had been while I waited for Cliff. Where was he? And why was I here?
Cliff was right. Those windows were thicker than normal. Bars covered them on the outside.
I patted my waistband and pockets. My gun and phone were gone.
Sitting with my feet dangling off the bed, I saw that the deadbolts on the doors and window were the kind with no thumb turn. I stood to check for movement outside the French doors. Seeing none, I searched the nightstand and dresser for a key.
There was nothing in the drawers.
I looked behind the curtains and crouched on my hands and knees to search under the bed and other furniture.
That’s when I noticed a light under one of the two six-panel doors in the room. Feet on the other side of that door walked past. I stood, my hopes of confronting my kidnapper fading when I saw deadbolts above the knobs of both doors.
I tried the knobs, but I was locked in.
Could I remove the hinges?
I jumped back when the shadow of two feet stopped on the other side of the door I was inspecting.
“Who’s there?” The whisper came from the place where the feet stood.
“Taylor? Is that you?”
“Rita?”
Hope rose inside me. I had a friend inside this place. “Yes. Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you. Are you okay?”
“Kind of. That CDC biochemist kept me isolated while we worked on the antidote. He drugged me when he gave me a soda. I woke up here. A big guy with a Russian accent brings me food and water and lets me use the restroom after each meal.”
“Why are we here?” I feared I already knew the answer, but I needed someone else to confirm.
“We know too much. We’re loose ends. I suspected there was something off about that CDC guy.”
“We have nothing to lose by working on breaking out of here,” I proposed.
“I’ve tried. The windows are too thick to break. I try every few hours. Besides, there are bars on them. I wouldn’t be able to overpower the guy who brings in my meals. He’s huge.”
“The hinges holding this door are on my side,” I said. “I’ll see if I can remove them.”
“Do it quietly. They get mean when you misbehave. I have a shiner to prove it.”
I removed a pillowcase and unplugged the lamp from my nightstand. Throwing the shade onto the bed, I placed the fabric on the lower hinge and pounded the wrought iron lamp base against the door’s metal pin. It was easy to pull up, but I didn’t want to risk the door falling to the floor, so I left the pin in place while I repeated the process on the upper fastener.
Stashing the pins in my pocket to use as a weapon if needed, I asked Taylor to hold the door on her side. As we angled it against the wall in her room, I glanced at her swollen left eye. The sight made me feel like someone turned on a gas burner inside me, causing anger to boil.
She rushed into my room and threw her arms around my neck.
“I’ve been so scared,” she
whispered. “I believe the attack on Rim Vista’s water supply came from the Russians.”
I filled her in on what I knew.
“From what I’ve overheard, there are two opposing groups,” she said. “The CDC biochemist is working with a pharmaceutical company in Ohio. There’s another group that’s trying to stop them.”
“Have you seen a young woman with long blond hair named Lena?”
“No. But I hear a woman’s voice when they let me go to the bathroom. She talks loudly. It’s almost like she’s trying to keep me informed. It’s weird. It was like she wanted me to know about mustard packets. Also, today, I’ve heard the beeps of a truck backing up, some pounding, and metal scratching on cement. Something is about to happen.”
Another attack. Mustard packets? I had to stop them.
“Have you heard the name Anatoly Yashkin mentioned?”
“No, but that guy you warned me about… Frank Miller... the woman has said the name Frank.”
“He’s Anatoly Yashkin, and I suspect he stole Russian experimental chemicals the day he went missing after an attack in Afghanistan.”
“Geez.” Taylor touched her temples. “Maybe that’s why she wanted me to know about the mustard packets.”
“Where do people use mustard?”
“Amusement parks.” Taylor said. “Zoos. Costco. Convenience stores.”
“Ballparks.” Clarity struck. “My mom was watching the baseball playoffs. She said Arizona will be in the World Series. If she’s right, the ballpark in Phoenix will be full of fans eating hotdogs and mustard. I don’t know when. It would be a strike on an American symbol.”
Taylor propped herself against the wall. “How can we stop them?”
My door opened, and a man entered. I recognized the white hair, bushy brows, hazel eyes, and the chamomile flower tattooed on his forearm. Frank Miller. The man whose gray hiking boots I saw before passing out. I wanted to slap him for drugging me but behaved. For now.
At the same moment Frank opened my door, a herculean guy with a shaved head and massive arm and thigh muscles entered Taylor’s room.
Frank glared at the gaping doorframe. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, and now you’re tearing apart my house.” He grabbed my arm. “I’ve had enough of you.”
He led me down a marble hallway and shoved me toward a curved staircase with a wood banister and decorative wrought iron columns.
“Why is the Russian government attacking America?” I asked.
He snickered. “The Russian government is too cowardly to operate as boldly as I and my colleagues have. Their plan is to conquer this godforsaken country from within. Their efforts to meddle in elections and mess with the news is taking too long. You Americans like your democracy too much. It corrupts.”
“Why did you kill Melissa and her parents?”
“They were disloyal.” He snickered. “Too bad they didn’t realize I was the reason their original handler died, and no government sent me.”
He pushed me down the final three steps, and I caught myself with my hands before my knees landed on the mahogany floor. I pretended to fall to my side, so I could take in as much of the great room as possible.
There were three exits. Locked French doors stood behind the brown leather sectional sofa where Lena and the CDC biochemist watched us from opposite ends. A six-panel door was located off the tiled, gourmet kitchen with a granite-covered island. It led to the side of the house, maybe to a second garage, not the one I saw from the front of the house.
Except for the peephole, the front door looked more solid from this side than it did from the tree where Cliff told me to hide. A giant crystal chandelier hung in the foyer.
Where was Cliff? Did they know he was with me? Was he planning a surprise attack?
The tip of a tree branch moved toward the French doors. I told myself not to look. Instead, I shifted my focus to a display on the sofa table between the couch and dining table.
Could I get to the statue of Maasai warriors that sat on the sofa table? Their spears had sharp metal points. I was too far away to pilfer the weapons, but I told myself not to forget about the art.
Champagne bubbled in three flutes that sat on the glass-topped coffee table in front of the sofa. My eyes met Lena’s. I hoped her worry creases and attempts to keep Taylor informed meant I could count on her to help us out of this situation.
Standing, I turned to face Frank. “When I thought you lived in a tiny cabin in the woods, I assumed love of a country drove you to attack my town. Judging from this house, I’m guessing it was greed, Dr. Anatoly Yashkin.”
He smiled and nodded. “I wish I had someone like you on my team. You’re perceptive.” He cupped my elbow in his palm and took a step toward the door leading to the garage. “But, alas. Your end is near.”
I wrenched away from his grasp. “Given that, tell me how you recruited Major Kyle Park and his pharmaceutical company.”
He stopped walking, looking down into my eyes as he spoke. “Kyle, tell her how I recruited you.” He pivoted me toward the CDC biochemist.
Kyle picked up a flute and jutted it toward me as if offering a toast. “I was on leave. He approached me with a get-rich plan using my father’s pharmaceutical company. Dad was already sick. I hastened his demise after I arranged the attack on the Afghan village.”
I wanted to spit on him.
Frank grabbed my arm and turned me toward him. “I’ve been monitoring the long-term impact of the pathogen on Mary Zagby. I lure her with food once a month and take samples from her. I keep her so out of it she never noticed. Once Park inherited his father’s drug company, our plan was set in motion. And then you and this herbalist got in the way.”
“I volunteered to work with the CDC on this project and donated my latest research,” Kyle said. “You know the rest.”
“That all happened kind of fast,” I said, hoping Cliff had a plan to get me out of this mess. “Mary’s attack occurred a few years ago.”
“It helps to have contacts.” Kyle handed Lena another glass, and they clanked. Neither smiled.
How could I have missed that he was the CDC biochemist? I thought I recognized him. I chastised myself for not putting more effort into researching him, then told myself to stop obsessing and keep the conversation going until Cliff could wage a surprise attack.
“I didn’t recognize you with that beard,” I said. “Plus, you’ve aged considerably since that photo of you, Wall, and Mary that her brother displays in his house. Treason doesn’t agree with you.”
Kyle gave me a thumbs-up as he sipped his drink. “I traded a few friends for living high on a remote beach. After tonight’s attack, I’ll sell my company to the U.S. government, so they have all the antidote they need. No one will be the wiser that I was anything but their savior from a nationwide attack by the Russians. Our own politicians and news media make that kind of thinking easy.”
I met Lena’s eyes. “What about you? What’s your excuse for what you’re trying to do to my country?”
She set down her glass. “It’s my duty.” She stared at her sneakers.
“I’m sure you’re making your parents proud.”
Frank snickered.
She sucked in a deep breath and stared at Frank as she spoke. “My parents aren’t part of this.”
The doorbell startled us.
“Go look,” Frank said to the Hercules-like man, who still held Taylor by her ponytail with one hand. The massive fingers of his other hand dug into her forearm.
The second Hercules let go of Taylor, I grabbed her shirt and dragged her to me.
Hercules looked out the peephole and turned back with a quizzical expression accented by furrowed eyebrows.
“It’s an elk,” he said.
43
Frank grabbed my forearm and Taylor’s ponytail as he yelled at Hercules. “It’s a trick, you idiot. Get away from the door.” He let go of Taylor’s hair, shoved her back, and booted her behind.
She stumbled
across the room toward Hercules.
“I thought you told me Rita was alone,” Frank shouted.
“I thought she was,” Hercules caught Taylor, but she wrenched away. He lifted her by the waist. She beat his chest and kicked his shins as he snatched her ponytail and lifted her over his head. He grabbed her legs and flung her over his shoulders like she was nothing more than a fifty-pound sack of dog food. He clamped her wrists with his left hand and latched her ankles in the bend of his other arm.
With the strength I wouldn’t have expected from such an elderly man, Frank pushed me toward the door leading to the garage.
Lena jumped up from the couch.
“Tie them up,” Frank yelled to Hercules. “Then lock them in the van. Someone will find them at the bottom of the reservoir eventually. Lena, you arrange for the gas leak.”
He looked around. “Goodbye wonderful house. You’ve served me and my mission well.”
Lena dashed to Frank and laid her hand on the chamomile flower decorating his upper arm. “You don’t have to kill them or blow up this beautiful house. The explosion from the gas leak would draw too much attention. Just lock them in the van and park it somewhere deep in the forest. By the time they untie themselves and find their way out, we’ll be in your private jet on our way to Morocco. With you gone, no one will ever come to this house. It will just rot away.”
Frank pursed his lips as he inhaled, swiped Lena’s hand as if it were a ladybug, and jabbed her shoulder. “You’re getting soft like your father. Now that you’ve told them where we’re going, I have no choice but to kill them. I’m all out of ricin pellets, but I could let you be one of the drowning kittens in the back of the van if you’re thinking of betraying me as Melissa and your father did.”
Lena backed toward the kitchen, staring at Frank, her fists tight against her thighs. “My father? He has had nothing to do with you.”
His laugh sounded sinister. “I saw the text you sent him.”
She lifted her chin and shoulders, drawing in a deep breath and looking defiant.
I wanted to hear her explain Frank’s comments, but chaos struck the second Hercules opened the door leading to the garage.