Precipice Page 19

  “Interesting idea, but no.” His tone grew louder and more intense at the prospect of getting to explain his genius to someone, to let him in on the secret. “We may do a few kidnappings for ransom, what with the star power attending the celebration, but we’ve got something bigger planned. Care to wager a guess?”

  Dominic remained silent, at a loss.

  “No? I’ll give you a hint,” he winked. “It has to do with the capitol building.”

  “I don’t-,” he began. But then it dawned on him. “Surely you don’t mean - ?”

  “I do!” That creepy grin returned. He seemed thrilled Dominic managed to guess correctly. “The vault will be unguarded. Everyone will be at the parade and other festivities.”

  “But that’s just a myth…an old legend. Everyone knows that.” Dominic laughed aloud in derision, unable to help himself. The capitol building wasn’t a true capitol, but it looked the part, so the name had stuck. In reality, the ornate structure housed the mayor’s offices and a few dozen government workers. Because it was rare for such a building to exist out here in the boondocks, a variety of rumors floated around to explain the reason for its construction.

  One of the more fanciful stories held that a top-secret bank vault lay beneath that structure, protected by a complex labyrinth and a heavy electronic security system. The idea of secret money had been rumored ever since the building’s initial construction, but local historians dismissed it as the rambling brain child of an old, drunken moonshiner. Besides, no plausible explanation ever surfaced to explain how it got there, why it would be in a town like Greenlake, and who would have constructed it.

  “Careful, Dominic, I wouldn’t chuckle at dragons.” Olayemi’s lips twisted. “It’s no myth. The vault does exist.”

  “How do you know that?” Dominic doubted the story, but Yemi must be confident enough to risk an assault on the capitol during the largest celebration in the city’s history.

  “Now, now, I can’t reveal everything just yet,” Yemi taunted him.

  Dominic finally had enough. Summoning every ounce of strength and willpower his sore, stiff muscles provided him, he lunged forward, straining at the bonds that held him. He could almost feel himself snapping the cords and flying upward, colliding violently with Yemi to take him down. Almost.

  Instead, the bonds held fast. No matter how hard his muscles flexed and how much his body wrenched against the knots, all he earned for his efforts were painful rope burns on his bared biceps. The knots held fast, seeming to tighten even further against his efforts. As he sank into his chair, defeated, his captor snickered.

  “Growing up with mercenaries will teach you a few tricks with rope.”

  Dominic ignored the smug expression and comment. “Why are you doing all of this? What do you want?” he demanded.

  “The same things all men want. Wealth. Power. Fame. Success.”

  “There are ways to get that without breaking the law.”

  His retort was short. “Very true.”

  Dominic sat without speaking for a whole minute, waiting for more. Surely more explanation was coming. But nothing came. “So what do you want with me?”

  A sound from the hallway momentarily distracted Yemi, but after listening for a few seconds, he answered. “Technically, I never wanted you…still don’t. You came to find me, remember? Once you arrived on scene, I had to do something. What did you expect? A sugar cookie and a glass of milk?”

  That would have been much better. His attempt at humoring himself failed. “So why am I alive? You could’ve just killed me.”

  The look Yemi shot his way chilled Dominic to the bone. It was difficult to accurately describe, but he instantly knew he had made a mistake. A strange smile crept across the man’s face, satisfied and smug, as though pleased with what he was about to say. At the same time, Dominic recognized a tinge of disappointment in the wrinkles around his lips.

  “If it were up to me, you’d get a bullet in your head and we’d be done with it. You’d be long dead by now, your body stashed where no one would ever find it.” He smiled serenely. “Unfortunately, I was persuaded otherwise.”

  Persuaded? By who?

  The next words that escaped Yemi’s mouth sent shock waves rattling down Dominic’s spine. A violent rush of blood shot to his head. Had he been on his feet rather than bound in a chair, his knees would have buckled.

  Yemi sneered. “Shannon? Will you come in here?”

  Chapter 31

  Krieger followed Jacob Sloan into a stunning, if unusual, room. He had a hard time believing this was actually someone’s office. Twice the size of Sloan’s space, if not larger, it seemed even more expansive because of the floor to ceiling, glass windows that ran along two walls and overlooked the downtown city streets.

  A small sitting area took up the area nearest the door they’d just entered. Two oversized black leather armchairs and a couch bordered a small glass-top table. All the seats faced what Krieger guessed was the newest high-definition TV on the market. A full 72 inches of pixelated beauty, its color spectrum spanned twice that of anything else in stores. Such a television must be custom-ordered. They didn’t sell anything like it in stores.

  The opposite half of the room gave a different feel than the near side. High-class business. Wood-paneled bookshelves lined the right wall, made of high-end cherry. The desk facing the door was one of the most elegant he’d ever seen. Either cherry or mahogany wood, with a black top inlay, it had been etched with some fancy design that reminded Krieger of the fleur-de-lis.

  Atop the black inlay sat two large computer monitors, positioned adjacent to each other and centered on the desk. To one side of the monitors stood a small picture frame, to the other a marble desk lamp.

  A myriad of plaques and awards displayed the occupant’s many accomplishments. Diplomas from Duke University, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and Harvard Business School, several certifications for weaponry, and a variety of medals Krieger didn’t recognize hung on the far wall.

  The name on the door had read simply C. Dax—no title—but based on the room, this was a man of prominence and influence. The dual monitor set-up on the desk hid the chair and the office appeared to be empty. Krieger and Sloan took a few steps into the office.

  “Dax!” Sloan barked to the empty office.

  “Please come in.” The voice emerged out of nowhere, as though through an incredibly clear intercom, but Krieger couldn’t spot any obvious source.

  “We’ve got a problem. It’s Randal and Faye.”

  “I know.” A man emerged, disproving the intercom theory. He rose from his chair and stepped out from behind the desk. Krieger choked down a gasp.

  All military personnel who served in combat went through training on emotional control. Remaining clear and emotionless allowed for quick thinking. When still active, Krieger had passed every one of those tests with flying colors. But he wasn’t prepared for the appearance of the man who now stood before him and it must have shown.

  “Carter. I’d like you to meet General Michael Krieger, a new outside consultant working with my team. Mike, this is Carter Dax, Deputy Director of SISA.” Sloan made the introductions.

  It was obvious why the director had been unseen. Standing maybe five feet tall, the director could be easily hidden behind the monitors, but even ignoring his short stature, unusual in this business, he would stand out anywhere.

  His skin a deep bronze, likely from years basking in the sun, created a stark contrast with his thick, snowy hair, long and slicked back. He was perhaps eligible for the senior citizen discount at the local museum, but the only signs of his age were accompanying crow’s feet around his eyes and lines across his forehead.

  Even more surprising was the man’s laidback attire. Whereas everyone else in the office wore identical dark suits and ties, Carter Dax had dressed for a night out on the town. A blue screen-printed T-shirt and black leather jacket topped blue jeans and brown sandals. He looked as though he’d just arriv
ed on his motorcycle, not like he was ready for a full day at a government intelligence office.

  “Krieger, huh? German, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.” In the presence of a superior, his military training kicked in and he instinctively stood at attention.

  “At ease, soldier.” Dax smirked. “I’m a director, not a General.” Carter Dax spoke in a deep voice, with a slight Australian accent.

  “Yes sir.” Krieger relaxed his posture. Once he got past the surprise at meeting this man, he kind of liked him. He projected a calming aura about him.

  “To business, then.” The director turned toward Sloan, his smile dissipating. “I assume you’re here about the Amadi case?”

  “Exactly. Randal and Shannon are AWOL and their tracer was left behind on the ground of a parking lot…”

  “That’s right.” Dax already knew.

  “And this morning, Krieger discovered a connection between our victims, too, through Sasori.” Sloan’s gestures and tone were agitated.

  “The Sasori? Hiroto Sasori?”

  “That’s the one. Looks like he’s been renting space to some nasty folks.”

  “So you think your agents discovered this and that’s why they went off grid?” Krieger stood amused at the interaction between Sloan and the director. Sloan could eat the smaller director for breakfast with room left over, but Dax held command of the room.

  “As you know, Randal can be brash. He may have tried to go after Sasori –”

  “You mean, after Amadi,” Dax interrupted.

  “Right. If he uncovered confirmation that Sasori’s company is connected to those murders, he wouldn’t wait until morning to get a team together. He’d go after Amadi himself.”

  Dax smiled his approval. “Interesting theory. But I’ve had Ford and Williams stationed in Campbell since yesterday afternoon. They haven’t seen or heard any activity there at all.”

  Sloan grunted. Krieger had never heard a walrus grunt, but he suspected it would sound exactly like that. He was stumped. If they’d not gone back to Sasori Software, then where were they?

  “My thoughts exactly,” Dax grimaced.

  “What about the other properties?” Krieger had said little, so his voice sounded jarring, even to himself. Both men turned toward him.

  “What do you mean?” the director asked.

  “Well, Sasori’s a rich man and his software company was originally headquartered here. He doesn’t own just that one building in Campbell. Maybe Dominic and Shannon were tipped off about another location.”

  “Of course!” Dax exclaimed, and smacked a palm to the side of his head. “He has a half dozen properties all over the area.”

  Krieger chimed in, “So if we can research what else he owns –” His voice trailed off as Dax marched behind his desk and started typing. Krieger and Sloan moved closer, but the boss waved them off.

  Dax held a high security clearance, one of the many generous perks of his position in the governmental pecking order, so it only took him a few keystrokes to bypass the security features of the site he wanted. Once he’d accomplished that, he beckoned the two men in again to help search. “Other than his vacation home, Sasori owns four different properties in this town.”

  “Including the one in Campbell?” Sloan asked.

  Dax scrolled down the page, the three men searching for any clue. “Including Campbell. So we’ve got three other locations to look at.”

  The three men fell silent as they concentrated on the images on the screen.

  “There.” Dax jabbed a finger at the screen. “That’s the one.”

  “How do you know?” Sloan asked.

  “Because,” Dax murmured, so soft Krieger thought he misheard. “My plan is working.”

  Chapter 32

  “Shannon?” Dominic’s voice cracked. Olayemi uttered something further after inviting Shannon into the room, but Dominic didn’t hear it.

  Her name struck him like a baseball bat. He gawked at her standing in the doorway. His mind reeled and for a second, he forgot he was in a dungeon, lashed to a chair, with a sadistic radical in front of him straight out of the heart of darkness.

  Questions flew through his head at a hundred miles a minute, faster than he could verbalize them. Shannon worked for this monster? She was a mole? A double agent? For how long? And more importantly, why?

  “What are you doing here?” Well, that was a stupid question, he mentally kicked himself. It was obvious what she was doing there.

  “Hi Dominic. Surprised to see me?” She raised an eyebrow and gave a half-smile.

  You could say that again. “You set me up?”

  He glanced to his left. The creepy face of Olayemi smugly grinned back, causing Dominic to shudder. This man had pulled one over on a federal SISA agent and was getting away with it.

  “I’m sorry. You were getting too close.” Her voice was expressionless, as though she speaking to a brick wall.

  Dominic cast his mind back to the club the night before. “So when you were talking to Mack…” She sent him away to prevent him from finding out too much! It wasn’t about his temper at all!

  “I couldn’t allow Mack to reveal something jeopardizing. You were already jumping at the bit to charge after Amadi.”

  “And that phone call…” Sloan didn’t know…

  “…was to Yemi.” She nodded in the direction of the African radical. “And I was the one who delivered the photograph to Sloan, too.”

  It all clicked into place. She’d played him perfectly. That temper of his had once again led to rash behavior. She exploited it, parlaying his predictability into a trap. Pressure formed behind his eyes, but he fought off the tears. Anger was more his style.

  Yemi interrupted his thoughts. “I’ll leave you two alone…”

  For such an evil, despicable man, he certainly couldn’t stop smiling that hideous grin. He stood and in one smooth motion, swept his chair off to one side, set it against the wall, and exited. The door crashed shut behind him, the bars in the window rattling at the force.

  Dominic gawked at Shannon. His jaw gaped at her deceit and he snapped it shut. “You do realize this is treason? You’ll be in jail for the rest of your life. And that’s if you’re lucky!”

  For a long time, he’d struggled with his former partner’s betrayal. Not until today had he discovered it wasn’t true. Amadi was innocent. Rather, his current partner had done the betraying, setting him up for capture and probably death.

  Unable to grasp the rollercoaster of emotions, he guessed it was akin to having your legs violently and painfully ripped from under you, only to see it happen yet again after managing to stagger back to your feet. Some agent I am, he thought bitterly. Can’t even keep track of who’s betraying me.

  Shannon took her time with her answer. When she did speak, the bite to her voice frightened him. “You don’t know me,” she snapped. He’d never heard such bitterness from her. “I only did what I had to do.”

  “What about Brendan? What would he think?” Her face turned red and her countenance darkened at the name of her ex-fiancé. He’d hit a sore spot.

  “I did what I had to.” Her response was sharp and stinging.

  “I can see that.” He snarled. “So what now? You have Yemi kill me? Or will you off me yourself?” He spat the words.

  Her tone softened and she frowned. “Actually, I’ve been preventing that. He wanted to, but that was my one condition for bringing you in.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m so thankful…” So generous…

  He flexed his muscles again, but in vain. A rivulet of sweat formed just above his right eye before descending over his brow and drifting downwards into the corner of the eye. He blinked furiously, trying to expel the salty solution that blurred his vision. He thought he saw a similar tear forming in Shannon’s eye, but when the room became clear again, it appeared all in his imagination. No such tear was present.

  Shannon reached into her pocket and pulled out a small item. As
she stretched out her arm, Dominic recognized the shape of a syringe. He flinched backwards, “What’s that?”

  “It will help you sleep.” She injected the needle into Dominic’s upper arm and depressed the syringe. “Again, I’m sorry Dom. I really am.”

  The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Dominic alone once again, with only his bitterness to keep him company. As he stewed, a dizziness washed over him and the world went black.

  ***

  He’d been running for several minutes now. His chest heaved as he fought for enough oxygen to keep going. To stop now would be the end of him, so he fought through the pain. A burning coursed through his lungs and he struggled for breath, but still he ran. Bare feet, ripped and raw from the jagged terrain, pounded against the dirt beneath his toes.

  He used his fingers for leverage, grasping at the rough brick wall to help him maneuver around the corner of a building. At the peak of his swing, however, loose brick gave way beneath his right hand. Skin scraped off his finger as he struggled to keep his grasp. He fought to keep his balance and planted his foot right into a deep patch of mud. It instantly gave way. His knee bent the wrong way at the sudden lack of foundation and he fell, a sharp pain racing along the neuronal pathway to his brain. He was forced to ignore it.

  With every wasted second, the pursuing footsteps gained on him; it was the one thing that echoed louder than the heartbeats against his ribcage, threatening to break through at any second. He struggled to his feet. Time was running out. His pursuer would be on him any second. He needed to find a safe refuge in which to hide. Desperately, he searched his surroundings. The alley wasn’t designed for a game of hide and seek. The sole equipment present that provided enough room to conceal him was a small dumpster about ten feet away.

  He limped as quickly as he could straight for it and scrabbled wildly at the cover. He mustered as much strength as he could and heaved against its heavy metal lid, lifting it just enough to scramble through. He plunged downwards for a split second before landing with a soft plop on the pile of rotting garbage at the bottom. And not a moment too soon. Right as the lid closed behind him with a soft thud, footsteps entered the alley.