The Carbon Trap (The Carbon Series Book 1)

by Randy Dutton

  She grimaced. With her left hand she pulled off the wig, then momentarily shook out her hair, which now contrasted with the dark makeup. “I’ve already got two dogs. I don’t need another puppy fawning over me.”

  He winced as a sharp spasm jolted up his spine. “Do me a favor and lower the hoist? Please? I’m tall enough.”

  The daggers were again slapping her palm. “I’m not going to do that just yet. Why don’t you tell me who’s with you.” This guy’s easy going. But is he dangerous?

  “No one. I’m flying solo…but—”

  “But what?” There was caution in her voice.

  “They know where I am.” His voice was calm.

  “You’re lying!” Her quick throw tagged the center circle on a soft wood target mounted on the far wall. “No professional would have let you come alone!” She watched his face for micro-expressions that would indicate lies. Two blades were slapping her palm.

  “I just came to do some recon, not to break in. By the way…what did you hit me with?”

  She started walking around him, studying him. “Which time?”

  “I only remember being hit once.”

  “It’s a little military high-voltage technology I picked up. Like it?”

  “Not really. What came after?” He still was trying to clear his mind.

  “The shock to your system should be gone by now, but the sodium thiopental will take some time to purge.” Walking back to face him, the blades were turned to catch his attention. Carefully, she watched his body movements in case he planned to strike with his bound legs. She almost hoped for the excuse to strike him, if for no other reason than to retaliate for upsetting her plans.

  “Sorry I ruined your date. I guess you’re stuck with me, but if you prefer, just cut me down and I’ll leave.”

  “I don’t think so.... I’m going to let you hang around for a while.”

  “So then, what do you want to know?”

  She was brusque. “What do you think you know about me?”

  “We dug up some information on you—”

  “Who’s the ‘we’?!”

  “The law firms, the investigation company. Some info has been passed to Interpol, some to the State and Justice Departments, some to Maldivian investigators. Maria’s cover has been blown, Anna.”

  “What cover?” She fidgeted. “I’m an attorney who does recruitment work for Alexis Swanson.”

  “Let’s say the circumstantial evidence is pretty damning.”

  “Bull!” In a flash her right hand whipped past her head and another sharp blade thudded within the circle. “Hypothetically, if it were true, why you? Why not Interpol? Why aren’t they charging in?”

  “Because you work for Swanson”—he revealed a knowing smile—“and governments are willing to ignore minor offenses for elites like him. And they do consider this minor, now. Hassan’s acceptance of bribes to change the ocean level data to promote global warming is what chilled their investigation, though two other crewmen died, as well. They don’t want the press asking questions about their manipulation of science. But the case against my dad is dead.”

  “I’m not admitting to anything!”

  “You don’t need to for my sake. I already know.” He stayed as compassionate as she remained defiant.

  “So what were you hoping for? What did you expect your reconnaissance to tell you?” Anxiety still was evident in her voice.

  “Just to get some closure. I’ve been studying your file for days now,” he said softly.

  “And what do you think you know about me? You don’t know anything about me!” she challenged, but inwardly wondered, Why am I getting angry? I’ve got to stay in psychological control of this. Why is he just looking at me with an expression of…what? Understanding?

  Finally, Pete said, “I forgive you.”

  “For what?!” she fired back.

  “For tormenting my dad…although his forgiveness may still be wanting.”

  “I don’t need your forgiveness, or his!” she responded testily, irritated in part because her game of intimidation was failing. She threw the final dagger, which missed its mark by half a meter.

  “What do you need Anna? Is what you do...worth it?”

  “I…I need you to quit trying to play mind games.” Her control was waning.

  “I’m not. I hurt too much stretched out like this.” He winced again. “And why does my lower back hurt so much?”

  “Maybe because I didn’t carry you down the stairs.”

  He didn’t react to her sarcasm. “How about you let me sit or lie down?”

  “Want more anesthetic?” she threatened.

  “No...not really.” His response was immediate.

  Anna looked him over, sympathy starting to hit her, an emotion she seldom had in much supply. She took a deep breath and gave him a slight smile.

  “Okay…I’m going to put a chair here and lower you into it. Then you’re going to be locked onto it.” More threateningly, “One hint of a struggle and you’re black and blue, and upside-down. Got it?!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her eyes narrowed. Damn Marines, always so patronizing. She slid a chair behind him then cranked down the hoist, allowing his body to rest in the chair.

  He gave no sign of a struggle.

  Why’s he being so cooperative? Her eyes kept darting to his while she zip-tied his elbows to the chair arms, then his ankles to the chair legs. His friendly smile annoyed her.

  She pulled a chair two meters in front and sat down. Her voice was stern as her eyes drilled into his. “So...what do you think you know about me?”

  “Well...you’re a lonely woman who was horribly hurt when you were a child,” he started.

  Her eyes flashed wariness.

  “You want to see the beauty in life, but have a dark stain in your soul. It’s a chasm that’s always pulling at you.”

  She tensed. This is unnerving listening to someone I don’t know telling me this.

  “Being a beautiful young girl on military bases surrounded by lonely and powerful men made you vulnerable...and something was taken from you.”

  Her lip quivered and breathing quickened.

  He paused. “I see I’m hitting a nerve. Want me to stop?”

  “There’s no record of anything like that...but go ahead...prattle on with your fantasy.” She struggled to keep her emotions in check yet still wanted to hear where this was going.

  His eyes were soft and compassionate. “You grew up Catholic, sang in the choir, but stopped attending church. I believe that was right after you were...attacked. Did you stop believing? Or feel you had been abandoned?”

  “Religion became irrelevant to me.”

  “When you needed it the most?”

  “I didn’t need it!” Her tone was sharp.

  “I’ll bet your father was strict and pushed you to excel at everything you did. Am I close?”

  “Fairly.”

  “And because you felt ashamed, you never told him.”

  Her eyes widen again, and despite a slight shiver, she stayed silent.

  “Look, I’m not a shrink—” he continued.

  “No kidding!”

  “But I’m not ignorant of the issue either.” His voice became somber. “My kid sister—”

  Suddenly Anna grasped the connection he felt with her. “Your sister...what?”

  “MacKenzie, she’s 29 now, but she also lost a piece of herself one night 10 years ago. The difference is, she had someone help give her closure.”

  “Who was that?” Her voice softened.

  “Me.”

  “What did you do?” Her body relaxed as she leaned forward.

  “Mac calls me her guardian angel, though avenging angel is more accurate. Want me to go into detail?”

  “Did he live?”

  “Barely. But I’m telling you this because I sense you didn’t have closure...there’s no evidence you told anyone. Nobody was there for you.”

  “How
the hell would you know?!”

  He anticipated her abrupt challenge and countered with sympathy. “Because when someone is traumatized, they often change their behavior, and from what I know of you, you closed up, quit your school activities, school sports, the church, and took up martial arts. You decided to be your own avenging angel, didn’t you?”

  Anna eyes misted as she listened to this guy reach into her soul. “I took care of myself, yes.”

  “I suspected as much when I decided to check unsolved physical attacks on the Marine base from a month before you quit the drama club to two years later. After you broke his ribs and arms, you castrated him, didn’t you?”

  A grim smile spread. “I won’t admit to anything.” I kind of like this guy. Straight to the point.

  “I’m not criticizing. I think he deserved it, too,” Pete assured her. “And you did it when your dad was deployed so he wouldn’t be suspected.”

  Her eyes looked down, her lips were tightly pursed. After a moment, her eyes angled upward. “So how’s your sister, MacKenzie?” She relaxed back in her chair.

  “Mac’s doing great. She doesn’t have the anger, or the nightmares that nearly incapacitated her at first. She’s engaged to a great guy and they’re happy.”

  “Must be nice,” she said sarcastically.

  “You should try it.”

  “Try what?” Her brow furrowed.

  “Having a normal life...a happy life.”

  “It’s overrated.”

  “Only if you don’t know what one is.”

  “Pete, do you have a normal life? Are you happy?”

  He ignored the sarcasm. “Normal? Somewhat...Happy? Often.”

  “Break it down for me, Marine. What’s happy to you? Being married? A 9 to 5 job? 2.1 kids? White picket fence in the suburbs? A dog and a cat?”

  He leaned in. “Happiness to me…is when those I love are happy, and it infectiously spreads to others.”

  She smiled cunningly at him. “Profound, but I prefer a John Lennon quote, ‘When I hold you in my arms, and I feel my finger on your trigger, I know no one can do me no harm, Because happiness is a warm gun.’”

  “Cynical. I prefer the happiness that comes knowing those I care about are safe through the actions of all. That the burden is not put upon just one person.... Anna, you seem convinced it all falls to you to protect yourself.”

  She cocked her head while studying his face. Her facial expression changed from thoughtful to calm. Finally, her eyes widened and a charming smile broke out. “Hungry?”

  He leaned back and blinked rapidly at the changed atmosphere. “Ah, yes...a bit. And very thirsty after you narc’ed me up.”

  “Don’t go anywhere.” She stood and cheerfully walked out of the dojo.

  That was an about face! His confusion was short-lived. He looked at his bindings and, though she was out of earshot, muttered, “Okay, I’ll stay here if you insist.”

  He studied the bones the dogs were chewing. Hmmmm, definitely not human. Thank God.

  Next he twisted his head around to analyze the items on the walls, the shelves, the dummy next to him, the OLED monitor with its security status, and his predicament.

  A lot of ancient weapons. Which appear to be most used? A lot of blades. The dummy certainly seems beaten up. Looks high too, about…Hmm, my height…maybe a little taller. She’s obviously kicked the head to hell and back. She must be really flexible.

  Looking back at the dogs, he sensed warmth, then softly whistled. “Come here, guys.”

  Fifteen minutes later Anna returned. Barefoot, and dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, she carried a tray of fruit, bread and cheese, an open water bottle, and a bottle of Bordeaux with two crystal glasses. Her makeup had been washed off, and the fake nails and push-up bra were gone.

  She stopped at the dojo door, aghast at the sight.

  “Damn it, those dogs are supposed to intimidate!”

  A wagging dog was at each of Pete’s wrist-restrained hands, each having its nose scratched. He looked up at her with an exaggerated apologetic smile.

  “Yes...I’ve got a dog...no cat though.”

  She erupted in laughter.

  After a quick recovery, she was back in character. Anna sternly called back the dogs, and, with her foot, pushed a table over, sliding it just over his arms and into his stomach.

  He grimaced at the impact.

  She put the tray, glasses and bottles down. Walking to his right, a blade suddenly projected out of her right fist.

  His eyes widened at the sight of the switchblade.

  She cut his right restraint. “You’ll pardon me if I leave the left one on?”

  “Of course.”

  She poured both wine glasses and sat down. “Okay, Mr. Heyward. Where do we go from here?”

  “Call me Pete. And I’d say you’re calling the shots, so you tell me. By the way, you’re much prettier without all the heavy makeup, or the padded top.” He chugged the water, put the empty bottle down, then picked up the wine glass.

  “Thanks...Pete.” Smiling, she stabbed a piece of cheese and bread with the switchblade and took a bite. “So when do the lawyers and investigators descend?”

  “Probably day after tomorrow...it’s past midnight, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Probably tomorrow, if they don’t hear back. See...the investigator planned to come himself with a team, but I asked him to let me do it. I was able to convince everyone my experience in reconnaissance would ensure I would stay out of trouble.”

  She smirked and shook her head.

  He had a crooked smile. “But, as you can see, you’re a bit better than I anticipated.”

  “I’ll give you credit for having subdued most of my sensors in that area without detection.”

  “Thanks. But I’m thoroughly embarrassed now.”

  “Why? Because you were beaten by a girrrrllll?” Her voice was mocking.

  “Not that. I’ve worked with some women in the military who are as good as most men. It’s just that I underestimated you. I should have realized the observation point was a set-up. It was too good.”

  “I guess you won’t use that spot again.”

  “Trust me. I wouldn’t step onto your property again without an engraved invitation.”

  “So Pete, why should I trust you?” She was guarded.

  “Because as sappy as it sounds, I like you. Perhaps too much.”

  Her expression softened. “I’ll admit, you’re hard not to like. You’ve got that disarming Texas ah shucks attitude that I’ve always found annoyingly saccharine.”

  “And I’m going to be frank with you, Anna…I’ve spent far too much time staring at a composite sketch of you, then your passport photo, then all the photos I could get of you. Admittedly, I’ve seen many of those high society photos of you dressed to the nines. I’ve read as much as I could find out about you, which isn’t a lot.”

  “I try to stay out of the press.”

  “I’ve never found you ever having a long relationship – not in college, not in Harvard, not on the Riviera. I’ve asked our investigators to dig deep into your early life so I could understand you. I’ve even read articles you wrote for the Harvard Law Review, which frankly, I found far too cynical of legal rights. After awhile, I couldn’t get you out of my mind, and that’s why I came alone.”

  “And what is it about me that you trust?”

  “You are intense and ruthless. That makes you a very dangerous woman—”

  “One point for Petey,” she said sarcastically.

  He winced at the nickname.

  “Both those are reasons to stay away.”

  “Those are effects, not the cause. You’re very guarded because you don’t want to be hurt again.... I think because you never recovered from your early trauma. I think it numbed you and flattened your emotions to the point of making you cold and distant.”

  “You think my emotions are buried?”

  “Yes, but accessible.”
>
  “Did Mac go through that?” she asked with some introspection.

  “Yes, but she had her family to help her cope.” Keeping eye contact, he leaned forward. “If you want…I’ll help you cope.... I’d like to help.”

  She leaned back. “So, you’re on a rescue mission…to save me?”

  “I guess so, since you put it in those words.”

  “And you think I want to be rescued?”

  “I don’t know if you ever considered it an available option.”

  “What if I like my life?”

  “Your surroundings…are not your life. It’s what’s in here”—he tapped his heart—“and here”—then his head—“that determines whether you need rescuing.”

  “I don’t want rescuing,” she argued.

  “Perhaps, but do you need rescuing?”

  For a moment she was speechless. She cocked her head and looked at him. “And if you get out of this...predicament...what do you intend?”

  “To tell them to drop the investigation.”

  She studied him carefully, searching for any micro-expression indicating deceit. His eyes are soft, and mostly keeps eye contact. He shows slight embarrassment. All I see is a determined man who’s fallen under my spell, certainly isn’t the first. He really is like a big puppy.

  Finally, after a long pause, she asked, “Pete, can I trust you?”

  “Yes.” He responded hopefully and without hesitation.

  “Your option. I’m tired. You can sleep in a bed tonight and leave in the morning, or you can stay tied up here in a chair.”

  “The bed sounds better.”

  “Smart...and Pete?”

  “Yes, Anna?”

  “If you make one mistake—”

  “I know. You’ll feed me to the dogs?”

  She nodded. “Just so we understand each other.” She stepped to his side, stopped, then said sternly, “Oh, and Pete?”

  “Yes?”

  “So that you don’t underestimate me...”

  He cocked his head in confusion.

  “Knurren!” Her command was sharp.

  Styx and Perses stood up, leaned forward, and snarled at Pete with their ferocious teeth bared.

  “Got it.... They’re not my friends.”

  “Right.... Platz!”