by Dave Buschi
You need to go, said that voice in his head.
He ignored it. The man was hurt. He went over to see if he was alive.
The man had a pulse, but appeared to be unconscious. Less than a foot from him a downed tree was burning. James hesitated. He needed to go. But there was that other voice in his head that wouldn’t let him.
He grabbed hold of the man and pulled him gently to an area where the fire couldn’t reach him. The man moaned.
“Are you okay?” James said.
The man didn’t reply. He was dressed in what James realized was a suit, which was now blackened and torn.
“Are you hurt?” James said.
The man looked at James. He seemed disoriented; eyes not focusing. James heard a vehicle approaching and saw headlights. He couldn’t stay here.
“Who are you? Are you police?”
The man closed his eyes. James saw something shiny clipped inside the man’s jacket. It was an FBI badge.
The headlights were getting closer.
93
“GODDAMNIT!” Paulson felt his world sinking. He slowed down when he saw what was ahead.
“Wow,” said Portino’s head of security.
“What’s wow about this? This is fucked up.”
The explosion had been like a small quake. When it went off the ground had shaken. Paulson had held his men back. He didn’t want to be driving after that thing when it went off.
The Feds had raced ahead. Paulson saw what looked like their vehicle. It was upside down and burning. It was about a hundred feet from the crater. They must have reached the van or been close behind when it exploded.
Paulson eased to a stop. He left his headlights running and stepped from his vehicle.
“Give me your gun.”
“What?”
“Just give it to me.”
Reluctantly the guy handed it over. Paulson checked it. He pulled back the slide and loaded a bullet in the chamber.
He surveyed the scorched ground and started walking. With the van blown into smithereens they were going to have a hell of a time taking out The Vault. What the fuck were they going to do?
“Goddamnit!”
His world was collapsing. Three hundred billion dollars gone? How was that possible?
“Goddamn you Kolinsky!”
He was going to find his charred body and plug every fuckin’ bullet he had into his dead carcass. Then he was going to piss on his skull, right where his eye sockets were!
He walked towards the crater. He could feel the residual heat coming off the ground. The explosion had incinerated everything a good hundred feet from the blast point.
Gasoline and fertilizer were a toxic mix. He didn’t see any of the remains of the van. It was completely gone.
Paulson wasn’t going to get the privilege of seeing Kolinsky’s remains. He was probably all over the ground. Dime-sized pieces of him littered like pieces of bird poop.
Goddamnit!
“Found one!” yelled Portino’s head of security.
Paulson took his eyes from the crater.
The other men, including Savic’s, had arrived and were getting out of their cars. Portino’s head of security was about seventy yards away from the crater, near the tree line.
Paulson walked over. It was one of the Feds. The man was still alive, barely.
“Here’s another.”
Paulson looked up. The second was about ten yards away. They were nowhere near where their car would have been. These men had gotten out. They’d run all the way over here?
Why would they do that? They wouldn’t have known there was a bomb in the van. Unless…
Unless they had been chasing someone.
Paulson smacked his palm with the butt of his gun. Kolinsky was alive!
“He’s around here,” Paulson said. He yelled instructions to the others for them to start searching. “We need him alive. Alive!”
“What should we do with these guys?” Portino’s head of security was looking down at the second guy. The man, like the other, was still breathing. His face was all burned up. The man was trying to say something, which was more just a mumble.
Paulson walked over to him. “What did you say?” He pointed his pistol straight at the man’s face. Blam!
“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”
Paulson strode over to the other guy. The guy was trying to get up. Blam!
“Jesus, man! That’s my gun,” said Portino’s head of security. “Why’d you do that? These guys are Feds.”
“Fuck ‘em. We’ll just tag Kolinsky with this. Like everything else.”
Paulson looked around. “Anyone?”
“Not yet,” someone said.
“Start searching the woods! What are you fuckers standing around for? Find him!”
94
NOT more than thirty yards away, James and the FBI agent were screened by a burning tree. Otherwise they’d be in plain view.
“Can you walk?” James said, barely a whisper.
“He shot my men.”
“I know. We need to go. Can you walk?”
The man tried, but could barely stand. James knew he couldn’t leave him here. Those men—that had been Nick Paulson’s voice!—would shoot him for sure.
“How much do you weigh?” James said.
The FBI agent looked at him, confused.
James looked out on the field. The men, including Paulson, were walking towards the woods.
“We can’t stay here,” James said. “I’m going to carry you.”
James bent down and picked him up. Jesus. The guy weighed a ton.
Getting his balance, James began to hobble with the man slung over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” James said. The man had to be in pain, but didn’t cry out.
“I’m James.”
“Mac,” said the man. “Thank you.”
James picked up the pace.
Hold on ankle. Hold it together.
Fighting back the pain, James, laden down like a pack mule, headed deeper into the woods.
95
THE darkness was thick as soup. James couldn’t see a thing. He had no idea if he was walking in circles, or if he was heading in a straight line.
For the first twenty minutes he didn’t think they were going to make it. Every step he took he expected to hear a shout, signifying they’d been seen. A few flashlights had come close to being shone their away, but Mac and he had somehow avoided detection.
It certainly wasn’t because of James’s speed. He was walking at a snail’s pace. Branches kept scraping him. Mac moaned once or twice, but otherwise he was a silent package on James’s back.
James was still processing what he’d seen. That had been Paulson who had done the shooting. Nick Paulson.
James knew the guy was a certified asshole, but a cold-blooded killer? If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t believe it.
“How are you doing?”
Mac didn’t respond.
James set him down. The man was in bad shape. He needed medical attention. James hoped he hadn’t done the wrong thing moving him.
As he second guessed his actions, he had to remind himself that the man’s two colleagues had been shot. He couldn’t have left him. That wasn’t even an option. But now that they were away, out of immediate danger, he wondered if he was doing the right thing carrying him.
“Can you hear me?”
The man looked at him listlessly.
“I’m going to get help for us.” Should he leave him here?
The man didn’t respond, but closed his eyes.
Shit.
James had no idea what to do. With the darkness and expanse of the woods, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find him again. Leaving him now might be leaving him to die.
“Thank you,” Mac said.
James turned his head. “I was getting worried about you. You still with me?”
The guy raised his thumb.
“Good. We�
��re getting out of here. Think you’re up for one more go on my back?”
“I don’t know how… how you carried me this far.”
“Me either.” James managed a laugh.
“You’re James Kolinsky?”
James nodded.
“We intercepted some emails from you. You sent them off…”
The man trailed off and his eyes closed.
“Mac?”
Mac opened his eyes back up. “If you got it in you, I’ll go along for the ride.”
“Alright.” James ignored what his body was telling him. He picked him up, worked through the pain, and continued on.
96
THEY drove up the drive.
“This is your home?”
Bob nodded.
The place was definitely out of the way. It had taken them a while to get here. The traffic on the road had been terrible. There were cars left abandoned without any gas and people were walking on the side of the road. They’d gone through one road block. The National Guard was screening cars. Around them it seemed like chaos was breaking loose. There were lots of fires.
A guardsman had told them a curfew was in effect. He’d let them pass. The last road to Bob’s house was a curvy country lane. His place was in the middle of nowhere it seemed.
“Neat,” Katie said. “Is that a barn?”
“I see horses!” said Hannah.
Sue was amazed at the spread. “Is all this yours?”
“It’s about two hundred acres, more or less. Do you like it?”
Sue looked up at the house. It was enormous. The type of place you’d call a manor house or an estate. It was lit up and looked beautiful.
Bob parked his pickup in the circular driveway. A man came out to greet them. “This is Lewis,” Bob said. “He lives here and helps me run the place.”
The man had wrinkly skin and looked ancient. “He’s part Navajo,” Bob said. “Doesn’t talk much. Kind of like me. We’re just a bunch of old guys out here waiting to die.”
“Don’t say that,” Sue said.
“Sorry,” Bob said. “Didn’t mean it that way.” Bob looked at the girls. “Do you want to see your rooms?”
The girls looked excited. “Can we see the horses?”
“Tomorrow girls,” said Sue. “It’s getting late. We need to eat and get to bed. It’s nice to meet you, Lewis. I’m Sue. These are my girls, Katie and Hannah.”
The girls ran inside with Tigerlily.
Sue looked at her dad. “This is really nice.”
Bob gave her a warm smile.
Sue touched his arm. “Thank you for taking us in Dad.”
Bob’s eyes seemed extra shiny. “Of course. Let me get you something to eat.” He turned quickly and walked inside.
97
“CASH reward,” Paulson said. “Call this number if you see them.”
“Phone ain’t working, so well,” said the man. He was dressed in just his underwear and a dirty tee shirt. The room they were in smelled of cat urine. “What I do if it don’t work?”
“These are dangerous criminals. I’d protect yourself as best you can. Do you have a gun?”
“Does a pig shit?”
Paulson nodded. “Then I’d suggest you use it then, sir.”
“Ain’t that illegal, Agent—what you say your name was?”
“Chambers.”
“Right. Chambers. You saying I can just shoot ‘em?”
Paulson feigned a look of deep concern. “These men just killed two federal agents and blew up a facility. They will kill you in a second. I’m just saying… if it was me, I’d have my gun loaded and ready if these men came anywhere near me.”
“How much that reward, ‘gain?”
“Fifty thousand.”
The man whistled. “Does it matter if they’re dead?”
“No, it doesn’t. Take care of yourself, sir. Sorry to disturb you this evening.”
The man shrugged. “Hell, I might just get my dogs and find ‘em myself.”
“Good night, sir.” Paulson left the trailer and looked at his two men.
“Next house.”
One of them was holding a map. “We’ve hit the three that are in this area. Savic’s team has this area covered. Next plat is over the ridge, but that is a good four miles away—you think they’d head that direction?”
Paulson got in the car. “How the hell should I know. Was this trailer shown on the map?”
“No. Just the plat.”
“Fuck.” Paulson started the car. These places were dirt holes. These people were disgusting. They lived in abject filth. He needed a shower just to get the stink off him. “Have you been able to get Enrique?”
“Not yet. Our service out here—”
“What was that?”
A deer had darted across the road. Paulson cursed as he almost went into a ditch. “Dammit!” He picked up his phone.
Enrique you better be making progress.
Paulson glanced at his watch as he called Enrique to check on the status of things. Manually doing what the bomb was supposed to do was not going to be easy. They were running out of time. The Feds could show up at The Vault any minute.
“No service, we…”
Fuck!
Paulson shifted into third gear as they raced against the clock.
98
Cyber Warfare Unit, FBI field office (undisclosed location)
“WE’RE not getting a reading. It’s off the grid.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s gone. Their car is no longer there.”
Special Agent in Charge Wiseman looked around the room. “How about you Kulnich? Pulled anything up?”
“Negative. Still trying... having issues with connectivity.”
“Keep at it.” SAC Wiseman frowned. He raised his voice. “We’re going to work all night, people.”
“Got something!”
“Spit it out, son.”
“James Kolinsky opened up a new Amex account three months ago. I’ve got several purchases here. There is some interesting stuff you’re going to want to take a look at. Just this one here, ammonium nitrate… that is common grade fertilizer. I’ve got several purchases. Each were too small to trigger a watchdog alert. This one here from ‘Drag Racing Depot’. Nitromethane.”
“Jesus.”
“That’s not all. I’ve been working with the ComTek representative, I told you about. Have clearance to the top. Their COO is fully cooperating with our investigation and has given us special access to their records. They sent over some more info regarding Kolinsky. Kolinsky signed off on seven new corporate Amex cards in the last six months.”
“Have you run that info down?”
“All different names, sir. But he may have been using those cards.”
“Purchases?”
“Looking into it right now, sir. I should know in a few minutes.”
SAC Wiseman was not liking this one bit. They were playing catch-up on a cyber attack of seismic proportions. And this was in his team’s sandbox. His home turf.
And then there was Mac. He hadn’t called in.
He’d known Hockney since the Academy. This wasn’t like him. Last call they received was going on two hours. Wiseman could only think the worst. And to top it off, their systems were working like they had molasses junking up the works.
They couldn’t pull up Skyview—couldn’t even pin down where Mac, Martinez and Chambers were last. Right now a kid was rifling Mac’s desk looking for a hand scrawled note… anything.
It was amateur hour. And it was happening on his watch.
Wiseman picked up the sheaf of papers, which he’d already read twice.
James Kolinsky.
This guy had been under the radar for forty-two years and now he decides to become public enemy number one?
Wiseman looked at the printout Mac had given him before he went down the rabbit hole. This didn’t line up with the rest.
Wiseman rubbed his temples.
It was going to be a long night.
99
JAMES heard dogs barking. There seemed to be several of them and they were wound up. He was too exhausted from carrying Mac to think anything other than the noise was a good thing.
It meant that up ahead was a house. A house meant people. He needed to get this man help. He was in bad shape. He wasn’t responding anymore when James spoke to him, and James had given him an earful.
Each time they’d stopped, he told him a little more what had happened. How he’d been set up. What was really going on; the players involved. But he wasn’t sure if any of it got through.
Not that he could blame the guy for not listening. The guy was barely hanging on. James had tried to attend to the man’s injuries the last time they’d stopped, but what the man needed was to be taken to a hospital. Mac had told James to leave him, but James couldn’t do that. “We’re going to get through this together.”
For some reason saving this man he didn’t know was important. James was not about to leave him. He’d carried him this far. He could carry him farther.
It was his oar, his special burden.
His oar…
His mind was wigging out a little as he placed one foot in front of the other. James had been a fan of The Odyssey when he was a boy. He’d read the book over a dozen times. Right now he felt an intimate affinity for the storyline.
Odysseus, after the ten-year siege of Troy, had endured all sorts of horrors and pitfalls on the journey home. Polyphemus, Charybdis, Scylla… When he finally returned to his rocky homeland, twenty years since he’d first set sail, he discovered his house had been taken over by rogues. His wife and now grown son were at their mercy, being eaten out of house and home. Odysseus, older and gray, not the young warrior he used to be, was able to fight off the rogues and rescue his family.
Peace would not come to him easily, though. During his journey, he’d angered Poseidon by blinding Polyphemus—the Cyclops—and Odysseus was destined to not rest until he carried a heavy oar on his back and wandered the ends of the earth until he found a land where the people didn’t know what an oar was.