The Cosega Sequence Box Set

by Brandt Legg

  “Here they come. Man, you got some important friends.” Elpate whistled. “Of course, you need ‘em, when you got so many pissed off enemies.”

  The helicopter landed, two BLAX agents jumped out, ran to Rip and Elpate, guided them back, and helped them into the craft. They were back in the air in eighteen seconds, flew in silence for about fifteen minutes, and then set down behind a busy truck depot. Elpate and Rip were pulled back off the chopper.

  “What the hell?” Rip asked, fearing that his trust in Booker might have been a mistake.

  “Sorry, sir. Precautions.”

  Another agent got out of the helicopter. “I’m the chief and this is my mission. Gentleman, my apologies; this will be very unpleasant. And there isn’t time to make it any other way.” The chief looked gravely at Rip. “Professor Gaines, I’ll need your pack.”

  “No.”

  “It wasn’t a question. Hand it to me now, or it will be taken by force.”

  Four soldiers trained automatic rifles on him. He handed it over to them.

  “Thank you. Now, please strip.”

  “What?” Rip protested.

  “You freaks are a bunch of perverts,” Elpate said.

  The chief put the contents of the pack on a nearby table and began running some sort of equipment over them.

  “Clothes off, now!”

  Rip undressed.

  Elpate was a little more reluctant.

  “Do you need help?” one of them asked him.

  Elpate rattled off a stream of profanities in Spanish, while he undressed.

  “We’ve got hot foil!” the chief said.

  “What?” Rip asked.

  “Tracking device in your pack,” another answered.

  Rip felt stupid. Of course they would track him. How did he not think of that?

  “Hot foil in the shoe,” an agent called. They all looked at Elpate.

  “Man, I didn’t know,” he pleaded, looking from the agents to Rip.

  Rip was stunned. “He didn’t know.”

  “How did they get this in your shoe without you knowing?” The chief asked. “This is not a simple task. It would take someone trained twenty minutes to get this in your heel and then closed up. “You’re lying.”

  “Rip, come on. I saved your life, man.”

  “He did. He’s saved my life all day. I’m telling you; he didn’t know.”

  The chief shook his head. He waved a wand over Rip’s camera. “Hot foil.”

  Rip’s heart sank. He looked at Elpate, who had purchased the camera new at a store in town. It hadn’t been out of Rip’s sight until they were captured. The commandos might have had time to plant the tracking device in his camera while on the plane. That was possible. But would they have bothered, when Rip was already in custody and presumably on his way to somewhere secure? The camera and the shoe together seemed very incriminating.

  “Dude, I don’t know nothing about that,” Elpate said, with pleading eyes.

  The chief raised his eyebrows, and then shook his head. He handed Rip the memory card. “Going to have to keep the camera.”

  “Rip, I didn’t put that there,” Elpate said.

  “I know,” Rip said, but he wasn’t sure.

  “Now, you won’t like this a bit,” the chief said, “but bear with me and bend over, gentlemen.” Rip was spared the anal search, but Elpate got the full treatment. They were each given jumpsuits and flip-flops. The chief handed Rip his remaining cash, the Odeon, the Odeon Chip, and the Eysen; all in a black canvass bag with a drawstring.

  “What about my computer, and my gun?”

  “The gun’s empty. Let’s not take it. The computer is too risky.”

  “I need it.”

  The chief shook his head.

  Another agent pointed to his watch.

  “I have to have that computer,” Rip repeated.

  The chief expertly took the laptop apart in less than ninety seconds and yanked out the hard drive. “This is the best I can do,” he said, handing it to Rip. “We’re out of time.”

  Chapter 57

  “You’re not going in the bird. They’re watching air traffic too closely where you’re going. And now we’ve got hot foil. We’ll be taking this heat and see if we can’t take some of the attention with us,” the chief said. Another agent slid the remaining contents and the pack into a box with their old clothes and shoes, and then loaded it onto the helicopter.

  Two agents stayed with them and the chopper lifted off the ground. A minivan pulled up beside them. “This is your ride,” an agent said to Rip. He and Elpate stepped forward to get into the vehicle. “Sorry you’re in the next one,” he said holding out his arm to bar Elpate from entering the van.

  “Why can’t he come with me?” Rip asked.

  “Safer to split you up,” the agent said. “We have to go, now!”

  Elpate waved to Rip. “You better go.”

  Rip grabbed Elpate into a hug, “Thank you, my friend. You sheltered me; you saved me.”

  “In the beginning, I did it for Dyce,” he smiled sadly. “In the end, I did it for you.”

  The agent pulled Rip. “Now.”

  “You’ll get him home?”

  “Don’t worry, professor. He’ll be taken care of.”

  Rip did worry. As the van pulled away, he thought about the damage that had been done to Elpate’s house, the smoke and broken windows, probably more. Elpate had never once complained. They’d mentioned Dyce once since it happened, down in the tunnel, while Rip was silently beating himself up over being the cause of another death. Elpate broke the silence, as if he could read Rip’s mind. “Shame about Dyce,” he had said, quietly. “He was a good friend.”

  “And a good man,” Rip had added, and that was that.

  Two and a half hours later, Rip finally stood face to face with Booker. “Are you okay?” the billionaire asked.

  “I don’t know, am I?”

  “If you mean, are you safe . . . yes, for the moment anyway. If you mean, do I forgive you for doubting me . . . I’d have to say that answer is also yes.”

  “Actually, what I mean is, am I safe with you?”

  “So, you’re still doubting me,” Booker took a deep breath. “Why don’t you take a hot shower; your room is the last one on the left. You’ll find fresh clothes and shoes,” he motioned to Rip’s flip-flops and ill-fitting jumpsuit. “Once you’re feeling human again, we’ll talk. I think once you hear what I have to say, you’ll understand the whole story and be able to answer that question yourself.”

  Jaeger had followed the great escape from the satellites and drones. They’d watched them switch the truck at the house without siding, and he’d known about the tunnel for several years. So once Gaines and Elpate disappeared into the warehouse, they knew where to expect them to surface. Being plucked by an AX chopper near the convenience store, had also not been a complete surprise. In fact, Jaeger had been taking a calculated risk that he could get the Eysen, Gaines, and Booker all at the same time.

  Booker Lipton had escalated things to the point where he was the first corporation in history, to effectively declare war on the United States of America. And Jaeger intended for the U.S., or at least the NSA, to respond in kind.

  AX had been clever in dropping them into a busy trucking depot; no doubt owned by the treasonous tycoon. Dozens of trucks departed in the thirty minutes after they arrived, and so did the helicopter with the tracking devices. Now, he’d have to raid the depot, and try to track each truck; a nearly impossible task, even for the NSA.

  That’s okay, Jaeger thought; as usual he had a Plan B.

  Chapter 58

  Gale, flanked by Larsen and Kruse, strolled through the field of sunflowers. “This is it,” she proclaimed. “Everything fits; the stream, the rocky hill, the road.” She studied the area again; thinking back on all she’d learned of Clastier from his letter and papers. She’d even watched him write some of them in the Eysen. These houses weren’t here back then she thought,
but the one up on the hill is where Clastier would eat breakfast and practice his sermons every Sunday. After he moved to Chimayo, he’d even stayed there, when he came back for visits. She had to see it.

  It seemed crazy to hope that after all this time, there might still be a clue waiting, or maybe even an answer to what had happened to Clastier after his disappearance. Yet, at every one of his churches, there had been some kind of message. She said a silent prayer to Clastier as they started up the hill.

  “I’m going to keep an eye on things down here,” Kruse said. “We may not be the only ones who know about this place.”

  Harmer nodded.

  “Don’t scare anyone,” Gale said.

  Kruse frowned.

  They knocked on the ancient front door of the little adobe; it looked as if it had been carved a thousand years earlier. Gale tried to wipe some of the mud off of her hiking boots.

  “Yes, what is it?” a man asked, as he opened the door.

  “Sorry to bother you,” Gale said smiling, “but by any chance would you happen to know anything about the vacant lot down there? I mean, its history.”

  “Sure, it’s got lots of history. It’s actually a hobby of mine.”

  Gale was elated. “Really! Would you mind talking to me about it?”

  “I’d be happy to. Come on in,” he said moving to the side. “Tell me, why are you interested?”

  “Well, it’s kind of a hobby of mine, too.”

  “Really?” the man asked, sounding pleased.

  Harmer and Gale entered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, I’m Gale,”

  “Yes, Gale Asher, I know,” the man said, as he turned and pointed a semiautomatic pistol at Harmer. “Easy, big girl, take out your gun slowly, I prefer not to kill you at close range, blood is almost impossible to remove from fabric.”

  Harmer looked into his eyes and decided in an instant that the man was serious and would happily pull the trigger. She might have fought, but there was backup nearby. It wouldn’t take Kruse long to come looking; better to stay alive as long as possible. Her mission was to protect Gale, and handing over her gun seemed the best way to do that.

  “Good girl,” Pisano said. “Now both of you sit on the couch. You too, old man, come out here, now!”

  The friendly man in his seventies was trembling so badly, that he could barely walk. “Sorry,” he said to Gale and Harmer. “He said he’d kill me, and my cat.”

  “Shut up, cry baby, and sit down,” Pisano said.

  The old man sat next to Gale.

  “Now that everyone is settled, we can get a few things straight,” Pisano said. “The cry baby tells me that the FBI has already been here and that they took an old book.” Pisano held up the receipt and Barbeau’s business card. “Not to worry, my boss will make a call to Special Agent Dixon Barbeau’s boss and I’ll have that book by the end of the day. FBI agents are like my personal errand boys.”

  For a brief moment, Gale forgot the trouble she was facing. Her excitement at hearing that there had been something connected to Clastier made her smile. She’d been right and Clastier was still helping them.

  “Is something funny, Gale? You don’t mind if I call you Gale, do you?” Pisano asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then wipe that smile off your face, sinner!”

  Gale assumed the guy was from the Vatican, and knew she needed to buy time. “Why are you afraid of Clastier?”

  “Oh, little girl, I am not afraid of Clastier. My mind is clear. It is the confused minds, like yours, that allow a creature like him to take root and destroy. He is destruction, Gale. And I do not fear destruction, because it is my God who does all the construction.”

  “Mind if I smoke?” Harmer asked.

  “Mind if I shoot?” Pisano asked incredulously. “Gale, let’s not waste our time arguing. I’m tired and muddy. This whole state is made of mud!” He brushed his hand down the side of his suit jacket. “Let’s finish this up, so we can all go home. Do you know where Ripley Gaines is?”

  “No.”

  “What about the Ater Dies, uh, what you call the Eysen?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then. Thanks for your help,” Pisano said sarcastically. “I don’t believe you. Perhaps, if I kill the sweet old man.”

  “In the middle of a Sunday afternoon?” Harmer asked. “I think the neighbors will call the cops.”

  “Is that so?” Pisano whined. “Do you know who I am? I have full immunity; I’m untouchable.”

  “I don’t know where they are. I came here looking for the book the FBI took.”

  Harmer felt the situation slipping.

  Pisano pointed the gun two feet from the man’s head.

  Harmer watched his eyes and his fingers; she knew he was about to pull the trigger and lunged for him. The gun went off; two shots. Harmer screamed; the old man collapsed on the floor. Gale tried to get up, but Pisano kicked her back into the couch. Harmer rolled onto the floor bleeding; she’d taken both bullets.

  “Damn you,” Pisano said to her body as she rolled weakly to the side. He then turned the gun to Gale. “Normally, I don’t do this kind of thing,” Pisano said, while using a handkerchief to wipe some of Harmer’s blood from his jacket cuff. “Do you know what this suit cost?” he hissed. “More than your car.”

  The old man was too scared to get the shotgun he kept in the closet, but that’s all he could think about.

  “Okay, Gale, are you still intent on lying?”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Tell that to God and see if he believes you.”

  “No!” the old man shouted getting shakily to his feet. “You let her go.”

  Pisano gave the man a nasty look and aimed his gun at him and was about to shoot, when something out the window caught his eye. Before he could focus on what it was, Kruse had fired a perfect head shot. Pisano dropped to the floor, dead.

  Chapter 59

  Gale went to Harmer. She was still conscious. “Do you have a phone?” Gale yelled to the old man. He just sat there unresponsive, with an empty stare, and trembling hands. Gale scanned the room and saw a phone mounted on the wall by the kitchen door. By the time she reached it, Kruse was inside and next to her.

  “Let me,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re about to call nine-one-one. I’m calling AX,” he said dialing.

  “Harmer is about to die. She needs medical attention!”

  “AX is faster. We take care of our own.” Kruse said, then spoke GPS coordinates and hung up the phone. He wiped the phone clean, and then put on surgeon gloves. “Who’s the old man?”

  “It’s his house,” Gale said, going over to comfort the man.

  Kruse went to Harmer. She looked up at him, as he cradled her head. “Thanks. I guess you need a new tattoo,” she said in a faint voice.

  He looked down at the three-bullet heart tattoo and nodded. “AX is on the way. The wounds aren’t that bad.”

  “They always say that to people, just before they die.”

  “Stop talking. You’ll make it.” He grabbed a light blanket off the couch, and wrapped it around her to staunch the blood. The bullets had entered her chest and upper arm, but he only felt one exit wound.

  “Three shots fired. Don’t you think someone has called the cops?” Gale asked.

  “AX will be here in seventeen minutes. My guess is that the local cops have a slower response time.”

  Gale got the old man calmed. Kruse dragged Pisano’s body outside the house. About ten minutes later, Harmer fell unconscious. Then five minutes later, one of Booker’s helicopters landed in the front yard. Two AX agents rushed in with a stretcher and took Harmer. They would fly her to Santa Fe where a surgeon, well-paid by Booker, was waiting.

  Kruse and Gale worked their way back to the car and drove away; six minutes before a New Mexico State Police cruiser arrived at the old man’s house. The old man was confused by everything that had happened and wasn’t
much help with descriptions or details.

  They rode back to Taos mostly in silence, as Gale, lost in her thoughts, tried to imagine what was in the book the FBI had taken. Kruse, contemplating his fourth kill, didn’t want to talk either. The tattoo on his right wrist, depicting three bullets penetrating a heart, had been designed to accommodate additional bullets and now, another would need to be added. It wasn’t worn as a trophy, more like a torture. Kruse didn’t like killing; he just happened to be good at it. He’d fired many rounds in skirmishes, for cover or to intimidate, but only four times with the intention to take life. Booker would offer him a long vacation. He’d never taken it before, but he might whenever this case ended.

  Booker greeted them in the driveway.

  “Any word on Harmer?” Kruse asked.

  “She went into surgery minutes ago,” Booker said. “We won’t know anything for a few hours.”

  Kruse nodded and headed inside.

  “We have Rip,” Booker announced to Gale’s delight.

  “Where? Is he okay?”

  “Here,” Booker said. “He’s arrived only ten minutes ago, probably still in the shower. It was a very rough day for him.”

  “Can I see him?” Gale asked, surprised he was really there.

  “Soon,” Booker said. “I need to debrief him first, and then he’s all yours.”

  Gale wondered what it would be like. She might have been wrong about Booker, and Rip might have been wrong about her. Could they get past their disagreements, and put the pieces of Clastier and the Eysen together? There was no choice. The final four Divinations were too serious to ignore any longer.

  “How did it go with Monroe?” Booker asked, bringing her back from her wonderings.

  “He said he won’t take possession of the Eysen.”

  “Do you believe him?”