Dead Aim

by Iris Johansen

  “Yes. Will you go home?”

  “No.”

  “Then will you be careful?”

  “As careful as Monty will let me. We have to get those miners out.” She didn't speak for a moment. “Why? This has to end, John.”

  “I'm working on it. And so is your friend Alex. You just concentrate on your job. I'll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” She hung up.

  Logan sat staring into space after he hung up the phone. Christ, it was too damn convenient that someone had called and made a special request for Monty. Where Monty went, there went Sarah. If it was a trap, then it had been baited by one clever son of a bitch.

  He reached for the phone again to dial Alex Graham at the mobile home that Galen had found for her near Huntington.

  “Sarah and Monty are at the site,” Alex told Galen after she'd hung up the phone with Logan. “Logan's calling the local Emergency Rescue Unit to see if anyone there actually requested them to come here. He thinks they may have been brought here to be staked out.”

  “Could be. Betworth and his men can't be sure how much you know, but they're aware Morgan saw Morales's plans. This disaster is in the same category as Arapahoe Junction.” He paused. “Are you sure you don't want to come home with me? What can you do here? You can't go digging like you did at the dam.”

  “I don't know. But I'm here, where the action is. I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything sitting and holding your wife's hand.”

  Galen chuckled. “You don't know how funny that is.” He stood up. “But I have orders from Elena to stay near if you refused to come home. And I never disobey the lady. Anything I can do for you?”

  She shook her head. “Tonight I'm going to hit the computer.”

  “And do what? Research?”

  “No, I'm going to go over Powers's last words. God knows, I'm tired of looking at them. But there might be something I'm missing.” Her lips tightened. “I'm going to try to see if I can figure out why, when, or where.”

  The computer screen was becoming a gray blur.

  Alex rubbed her eyes and tried to focus. She should probably stop and try to get a little sleep. She sure as hell wasn't accomplishing anything in this shape. She'd been working all night, taking Powers's sentences apart and putting them back together. She'd come up with half a dozen possible explanations for every word he'd spoken. None of them made sense.

  Or maybe they did and she was too tired to see it. She hoped Morgan was having better luck getting answers.

  She instinctively shied away from that thought. She'd been trying not to think about Morgan or the fact that he hadn't called either her or Galen.

  Maybe he was too busy. Maybe he was caught in a situation where it would be dangerous for him to—

  Dammit, the bastard should have phoned. Didn't the cold son of a bitch know what he was doing to her? When he came back, she was going to make him—

  If he came back.

  He would come back. He had to come back.

  Stop thinking about him. Focus on this damn computer screen.

  Morgan's hand closed on his shirt. “Answer me. Where's Z-3?”

  “Kettle . . .” Powers's body stiffened and then convulsed. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream. It stayed open as life fled.

  “Kettle?” Alex repeated. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” It might mean nothing. It could have been the confused meanderings of a dying man.

  But he'd said Z-2 was in West Virginia, and he hadn't lied about that. He hadn't lied about Lontana.

  He'd said Z-2 wasn't important. If it wasn't important, why had they buried those miners?

  “West . . . Virginia. Not important . . . Z-3. Z-3 . . .”

  “And Z-3 is important? Not Z-2?”

  “Z-2 . . . It's all bunk—” He arched upward as agony struck him. “Son of a bitch. Screw him.” Powers's eyes were glazing. “Screw Z-3.”

  Her phone rang.

  Morgan?

  She jumped for it. “Hello.”

  “Any luck?” Galen asked.

  Disappointment tore through her. She tried to keep the emotion from her tone. “Not yet. Have you heard from Morgan?”

  “No, but I heard from Salazar. He said that Morgan had all his plans in place and was going to contact Leary tomorrow night.”

  “Contact?”

  “Well, that wasn't exactly the word he used. He said that Morgan was one tough bastard and he wouldn't be in Leary's shoes if they gave him a winning ticket to the lottery.”

  At least Morgan was still alive. She supposed she should be grateful for small favors. “I don't think that's why you called me in the middle of the night.”

  “No, I wanted to warn you. Logan checked on the request to bring Sarah and Monty to the disaster site. It was bogus.”

  It didn't surprise her. “Just so he's warned Sarah. And I don't think there's a chance in the world that he wasn't on the phone to her the minute he got word.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Now, if you don't mind, I'll try to figure out why Z-2 wasn't important. Why it was—” She jerked upright in her chair. “My God.”

  “Alex?”

  “Hang up, Galen. I've got to call Logan.”

  “What?”

  “I'll call you back.” She hung up on him and dialed Logan's number. Her hand was icy cold as it clutched the phone. She listened to it ring.

  Please pick up. Logan, for God's sake, answer.

  Morgan called her at six the next morning. “It occurred to me that you might do something reckless just because you're angry with me. So I thought I'd let you get it out of your system.”

  Sweet Jesus, he was alive. She was almost limp with relief. “You persist in thinking I'm going to react like an idiot,” she said unevenly. “When have I ever done that?”

  “Touché.”

  “But that doesn't mean I'm not going to tear the hide off you when I see you. You bastard, how dare you lie to me?”

  “I couldn't take you with me.”

  “So you played Spock and gave me the Vulcan knockout punch?”

  “Actually, it was a Tibetan blow I learned from a monk who—”

  “I don't care. It was wrong and you're going to pay for it.” She drew a deep breath. “When I have time to spare from trying to figure out where this damn kettle is located.”

  “Kettle?”

  “Remember Powers said that at the end? It has to be a topographical formation of some sort. I asked Logan to try to talk to the President. He'd know. But Logan can't get through to him. And who else is he going to trust when the FBI and CIA seem to be breeding grounds for—”

  “Easy. Why would the President know about this kettle?”

  “Bunkers. He'd have to know about the bunkers.”

  “Bunkers?”

  “Remember when Powers said ‘It's all bunk—' we thought he meant it wasn't important, that it was all bullshit. But he broke off because of the pain. He was trying to say they were all bunkers. Arapahoe Junction, Plummock Falls, and this kettle place.” She moistened her lips. “Right after September eleventh it came out that bunkers had been established to make sure the U.S. government could still function if Washington came under direct attack. They were principally concerned with nuclear threats, so underground facilities were chosen.”

  “I recall hearing something about a facility at the Greenbrier. But that was abandoned years ago.”

  “But the bunker concept wasn't abandoned. When the press secretary was questioned at a news conference, she reluctantly admitted there was more than one bunker. No officials would say anything more, because it was a sensitive security issue. Later, a magazine article came out with an interview with an anonymous lower-echelon government official who described how personnel rotated into the bunkers every month and weren't permitted to tell even their families where they were going. They could only be contacted at an 800 number. Most of the time there were at least fifty personnel keeping the bunkers going, but very few high
-profile members were called to serve at the bunkers. It was purely volunteer as far as they were concerned. Except for one cabinet member who was supposed to serve at all times.”

  “Why three bunkers?”

  “There may be even more. But I don't think so. They'd need one near the West Coast in case the President was in that part of the country at the time of an attack. One in West Virginia, which is close to Washington, but not too close. The other one . . . I don't know. Baltimore? Those hydro vents Melis mentioned were near Baltimore.”

  “And Baltimore is practically next door to Washington. The sonic manipulation of a hydro vent offshore could directly affect Washington.”

  “Jesus.”

  “But Betworth wanted more bang for his buck, so he contacted Morales.” Morgan was silent for a moment. “And what could Morales give him for more bang for his buck?”

  She was afraid to guess. “I hope to hell you find out. You meet with Leary tonight?”

  “If I'm lucky. I have a good many more questions to ask him now about those bunkers.” He paused. “Sharp, very sharp, Alex.”

  “Then maybe you should have called me before.”

  “I had to brace myself to be flayed. I'll phone you after I finish with Leary.”

  She slowly hung up the phone. She didn't want to let him go. Maybe she shouldn't have jumped on him. What if she never saw—

  Of course she should have done it. He was wrong. He was honest enough to realize that and expect her to—

  Dear God, she wanted him here.

  Forget it. Think about this blasted kettle. Think about those bunkers and why they were destroyed.

  More bang for the buck.

  Christ.

  “I've verified your bunkers, Alex,” Logan said. “No one in Congress wanted to talk, but I tapped one confidential source. Once he realized I already knew about it and only needed to be filled in, he opened up. The bunker wasn't in Arapahoe Junction, it was on the other side of the dam, where you were taking your pictures.”

  “Powers said there was a screwup. They didn't have the technology right.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “They blew the dam and buried the town of Arapahoe Junction. I'd say that was a big-time screwup. All those people . . .”

  “My contact didn't know anything about any of the other bunkers. Since they're all underground, he said he'd bet that the installation at Plummock Falls is practically right beside the mine. The location picks were supposed to be in fairly populated areas so that the Congressmen's comings and goings wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “And Plummock Falls is a bustling mining town.”

  “So they blow the bunker and take some of the coal mine with it.”

  “No information about Z-3?”

  “Evidently everyone knows about their particular bunker and no other. It makes good security sense. Sorry, I'll keep trying.”

  “You found out quite a bit. At least one thing is going right.”

  “More than one. Sarah called me and told me they'd located the miners.”

  “Alive?”

  “At least some of them. There was tapping.”

  “Thank God.” She paused. “Have you gotten through to Andreas?”

  “Not yet. There's a steel wall of security around him these days. I'll keep trying. Has Morgan phoned you?”

  “Not since this morning. He said he'd call me when he could.”

  “Let me know when he does.”

  “I'll do that.” If she heard from him. She was beginning to wonder if he— Stop wondering. Stop thinking. She had to believe he'd contact her when he could. He had his job to do and she had hers.

  She stared down at the open atlas on the coffee table in front of her.

  The kettle . . .

  Guatemala City

  Jesus.

  Morgan took a long drink of his bourbon as he stared at the television set over the bar.

  Plummock Falls.

  The cameras were panning the faces of the crowds gathered outside the fence that encircled the opening of the mine. Pain. Disbelief. Fear. Hope.

  “It's terrible.” The bartender shook his head. “But it's good that maybe some of them will be saved. To be buried alive would be anyone's nightmare.”

  “Yes.” He tore his eyes from the television set. This wasn't the time to be distracted. He was only grateful Alex was so absorbed in trying to figure out the location of Z-3 that she wasn't one of those people behind the fence. He turned to Marco Salazar. “You're sure Leary will be alone?”

  “Well, he won't be with anyone from the Matanza group.” Salazar shrugged. “Cordoba doesn't approve of gays. This bar is the hangout for homosexuals in Guatemala City. Leary was here last night and went home with someone he met. He'll probably be back. He didn't impress me as the faithful type.”

  “He's not. I remember when we were in San Francisco for a couple weeks, he hit practically every bathhouse in town.” He got off the stool. “Time to make myself a little less conspicuous. I'll be back in that booth in the corner. When he comes in, let me know.”

  Salazar nodded absently, his gaze focused on the TV set and the miners being carried out of the shaft.

  Ten minutes later Al Leary walked into the bar.

  Morgan didn't have to see Salazar's signal to know Leary was in the room. He blew in with his customary swagger and immediately began to talk to the bartender.

  He was on the hunt, Morgan thought. He had seen Leary operate in dozens of cities around the world and it was always the same. Make contact with the bartender and let him know he was available, then get a line on the most attractive men who frequented the place.

  He was turning toward Salazar, Morgan realized. He'd thought that would be his response to Salazar's dark good looks. Leary was all flashing white teeth and aggressive charm as he sat down on the stool next to Salazar.

  Fifteen minutes later Morgan got up from his booth and moved toward the bathroom in the rear of the bar. It was empty, but no telling how long it would stay that way. He cracked open the door so that he could see the bar.

  Come on, Salazar. Get the show moving.

  As if he'd heard Morgan, Salazar got off the bar stool and touched Leary's arm and said something to him. Leary and Salazar left the bar and strolled toward the bathroom.

  “It's good stuff,” Salazar was saying as he pushed open the door. “Enough to give you a high but not interfere with—”

  Morgan's arm encircled Leary's neck and jerked him backward.

  Leary gasped, gurgling helplessly as he tried to breathe.

  “We're leaving,” Morgan said in his ear. “We're going to go out the back way and then get in the car in the alley. When we leave this bathroom, my arm's going to be around your shoulders and my hand is going to be affectionately on your neck. If you're not equally quiet and affectionate as we go through that crowd, I'm going to stop being affectionate and give you a shuto blow to the back of the neck and kill you. It will be over almost before you know it. You've seen me do it before.”

  Leary's eyes were wide with terror as he tried to speak.

  “Go and start the car, Salazar.” Morgan loosened his arm around Leary's neck. “We'll be along in a minute.”

  “Morgan.” Leary's voice was hoarse. “Don't kill me. It wasn't my—”

  “Easy does it. This isn't the time.” His arm slipped around Leary's shoulders. “Now, let's go. Salazar's arranged a place for us to have a little talk.”

  14

  November 10

  8:45 P.M.

  “Danley tells me you're in position, Runne,” Betworth said.

  “Of course. We made a deal.”

  “You checked in at Z-3 last night. But no one's seen you since then.”

  “If they'd seen me, I wouldn't be doing my job, would I?”

  “I want you to report to Danley again tomorrow. I have to know that you're ready. Not that I don't trust you.”

  “Just have that helicopter ready to get me out of there. I'll handle the res
t.”

  “Report to Danley tomorrow or there won't be a helicopter.”

  “Don't bluff me. You want me out of there as much as I want to get out. When do I get Morgan?”

  “He's still on the loose. Who knows? You may run into him at the Kettle.” Betworth hung up.

  And he might not, Runne thought. The surer bet was still the woman. He had been disappointed that she hadn't shown up at the mine. Time was running out. He'd been running back and forth between the mine and Z-3 for the last few days to placate Betworth and Danley, but now there were only two days left.

  If he was going to have the opportunity to get Morgan, it might be necessary to escalate matters.

  He reached for his phone.

  9:05 P.M.

  Kettle.

  Dammit, Alex had stared at the atlas of the northeastern United States until she was almost blind. No mention of topographical features anywhere in this area that might fit. No lakes or rocks that could be—

  Screw it.

  Her phone rang.

  “Alex. This is Sarah.” Her words came bullet-fast. “I'm only going to talk for a minute because I don't know if he's found a way he can trace the call. Hell, I don't know how he got my number. He must have finessed someone at rescue headquarters.”

  “He?”

  “Someone called Runne Shin. He said you'd probably know who he was.”

  Alex stiffened. “Oh, yes.”

  “Look, I didn't even want to call you. But I decided I didn't have the right. I wouldn't want to be kept in the dark if it were me.”

  “In the dark about what?”

  “He said that there was going to be another disaster worse than Plummock Falls if you didn't stop it. He said to tell you he didn't care about Betworth's plans. He only wants Morgan.”

  Shock rippled through her. “And how am I supposed to stop this so-called disaster?”

  “He said to call him. He gave me the number.” She rattled off the phone number and then paused. “And now that I've given you that bastard's message, I'm giving you one of my own. Don't be crazy. You can't be held responsible for the actions of this asshole. Stay away from him.”

  He only wants Morgan.