Black Smoke (28 page)

The agonizing note he’d left on her pillow and the way she looked sleeping as he placed it next to her. God, how many times had he written that note, only to crumple it up and start over. He knew it sounded lame, but he wasn’t a poet that could spout flowery words to make her feel better.

His dreams were haunted by the vision of her standing in the rain, watching the plane take off, her uncle running to her side. The dream came every night. He supposed it was because she was the last thing he thought about before he went to sleep and the first thing he thought about when he opened his eyes. Not to mention the countless times her face popped into his head during the day.

Cannon wouldn’t like him coming along, but he’d have to deal with it. Because this time, he wasn’t leaving her. This time he would plant himself in that perfect home she made and stay, forever. If she refused to give him a second chance, then he’d rent an apartment and show up on her doorstep every morning. If she was alive. God please, let her be alive.

“Come on Kong, plane’s here,” Boomer yelled to him.

The plane touched down in Pennsylvania less than an hour later. Kong braced himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. It couldn’t be helped. If the man wanted to pummel him so be it, but he’d have to wait until he brought Sam back home.

Ricochet and Boomer left the plane first and headed toward Cannon who was standing there waiting to meet them. Kong watched the man’s face when he walked down the steps of the plane. It was no surprise when he saw deep-seated hatred burn in the man’s eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Walt growled.

“I came to find Sam.”

“Wasn’t it clear when I called, when I asked specifically for the two of you, that I didn’t want him involved?” he shouted at the other two. “I thought you two cared about her?”

“With all due respect Sir, it’s going to take the three of us working together to find her,” Boomer replied in a calm voice. Inside, his stomach was churning and acid was burning into his throat. He understood Cannon’s anger, felt it himself. But now wasn’t the time for this, they had to find her.

Walt turned abruptly and walked toward his office building. His hands clenched into tight fists, he cursed under his breath. This whole mess just kept getting worse by the second. Once inside the building, Walt turned and faced them. “I sent a couple of detectives to her last known location two days ago. They didn’t find much, but what they did find is in here,” he said tossing a file on his desk.

“You sent her out on another job so soon after she was shot?” Kong snarled at him.

“I didn’t send her anywhere Lowe.” Walt stepped out from behind his desk and stood face to face with Kong. The two men that loved her most in the world were going to have it out before this was over. “You want to know what happened after you left? I’ll tell you. She didn’t come out of her house for almost a week. I had to go and drag her out. She was a mess!” He left out the part about having to break her door down and the fear of what he’d find when he entered. “It took two straight days of me going over there and talking to get her out. Sam and I agreed a long time ago not to interfere in each other’s personal lives, but I warn you. If you think you’re going to use her and walk away again, I’ll take you down.”

Kong met the man’s stare. He had no idea she was destroyed by his leaving. Hell, he didn’t even know she was in love with him. “I think we should settle this later Cannon. Right now, we need to find her.” His throat was tight as he spoke, his emotions teetering on a thread.

Walt continued to stare him down for a few more moments then sat down at his desk. The need to punch him was too strong and it wasn’t going to bring her back any faster. Kong was right, they would settle it later.

“Two and half weeks ago, she told me she found a lead on her parents’ murderers. I tried to convince her to turn it over to the police but she wouldn’t.”

“They did a half-assed job,” Kong muttered. “That’s what she told me.”

Walt burned a glare through Kong then continued. “I agreed to give her what she needed to follow up on it, if she agreed to turn it over to the police. She spent the last two weeks or so following a man who had a tattoo that matched the one on her parents’ killer. They both had it in the same spot. Four times a day, she called and checked in with me, let me know where she was, what she was doing and what she found out.”

“A mark on his hand,” Kong mumbled, remembering the bits and pieces of what she’d told him.

“What do you know about them?” Boomer asked calmly.

Walt sat back in his chair and looked the three men over. No matter how much hate he felt for Lowe, Kong was good at what he did and he needed him. Unfortunately that meant telling him the whole story.

“I doubt Sam knows what her parents did for a living. She was so young and children don’t generally care what their parents do as long as they love them.” He paused and rubbed his eyes.

“My brother and his wife were low level spies when they died. Before Sam came along, they were the best the government had to offer. Once she was born, they decided it was time to take less risky jobs. Marcy, Sam’s mother, had been gathering intelligence on a terrorist cell in a small town in New York State. Ben, my brother, was working with the CIA and making plans about how to infiltrate the cell.

“Marcy was always too good at her job. She dug too deep and ruffled some feathers. It didn’t take long for them to find out who was asking all the questions and digging up records. Turns out they had their own surveillance team. They followed her home one day and watched the house.

“Two nights later Marcy and Ben were dead and Sam was dying.”

Kong felt the floor tilt. She didn’t tell him all that, in fact when she spoke about it, she didn’t even seem to know who the killers were. “Does she know who killed them?”

“No.”

“You never told her who killed her family?” Now Kong’s temper was up. “You let her go after a terrorist group alone? What the hell were you thinking?”

Walt stood and pointed his finger at Kong. “I’ll tell you what I was thinking Lowe. I was thinking of how destroyed she was after you left. When she got onto this lead, it pulled her from her depression. Hell, I didn’t think it would pan out. What are the chances she’d stumble on them here, in Pennsylvania of all places? Why do you think I moved her here?”

Kong’s face was paling. The fact that he could destroy something so strong and gentle was overwhelming. He’d never forgive himself for it and Cannon wasn’t about to let him forget it. Now wasn’t the time to sulk like a child. She needed them, she needed him.

“That doesn’t excuse withholding information from her about her family.” Kong’s tight throat made his voice sound hoarse.

“I didn’t think she’d find anything substantial,” Walt said quietly. He’d been mentally beating himself for the last three days for not telling her the truth. “When the murders happened, the police did their best to investigate. When they started to get too close to the cell, the government stepped in and called them off. I stayed in the military long enough to find out what I could.”

Walt sat back down at his desk then motioned for them to sit as well. “I called in a lot of favors, risked some good friendships, but I found out about the cell. I even went as far as to let the police think Sam was dead. I knew if the terrorists found out she was alive, they’d come for her. There is no mercy in their world, not even for a child.”

Memories of Sam as a child flooded Walt’s mind. How tiny she looked in the hospital fighting for her life, the smile on her face when she managed to beat her first martial arts instructor in hand-to-hand. If he lost her now…

“How much do you think she knows?” Boomer asked interrupting Walt’s thoughts.

“I went to her house the second day she didn’t contact me. Sam’s good at taking notes and keeping files on things she works on. I found this,” he said opening his drawer and pulling a large envelope from it.

Kong took it first and opened it. Inside were handwritten notes on what kind of cars they drove, what time they met and at what bar. How many she felt were involved. As he flipped through the pages, he found disturbing photos. The first photo showed large crates being unloaded from commercial vans, the next showed one of the men holding up a surface-to-air missile.

As Kong shuffled through the photos he wondered exactly how close she had been to take them. How much did she risk in finding her family’s killers? The last photo he came to was older, worn. His heart skipped as his eyes focused on the battered body of a woman lying on an autopsy table. Then his heart fluttered when the face of the woman looked familiar.

“This is her mother. This is her autopsy photo. How the hell did she get it?” Kong couldn’t stop himself. His eyes roamed the photo from top to bottom. The woman had been beaten beyond belief. Her breasts had what looked like dozens of bite marks. Her arms had deep slashes in them. One rib was poking through her abdomen and her lower body had been carved up so badly it was impassible to tell what was used.

“Her face wasn’t touched. Why?” he asked absently.

“They were sending a message. They knew who she was, what she was doing. They wanted the government to know that.” Walt pulled his bottle from his drawer. “As for how she got that photo, I have no idea,” he said as he poured the clear liquid into a glass.

The earth shifted. “If they have her, if they know who she is…” Kong couldn’t finish the sentence. He wouldn’t allow the thought to interfere with what he had to do.

“The plane is fueling to take us to New York. That’s where she last contacted me. That’s where my men found her abandoned car. That’s where we’ll find her.” Walt downed the rest of the liquid in his glass and stood.

“You’re coming with us Sir?” Boomer asked.

“She’s my niece. Yes, I’m coming with you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Pain burned through Sam’s body as she fought through the thick haze in her mind. There was searing pain running from her wrists, down her arms. As she tried to move her arms she realized they were stretched above her. Heavy metal shackles held her wrists, every time she wriggled, the thick metal cut deeper into her flesh.

Panic pushed the haze away. Her heart beat like a drum against her chest as she realized she couldn’t move. Her intense training over the years snapped into motion. First she stilled then calmed her mind. She couldn’t help herself if she allowed panic to rule and helping herself was the only way she was going to get out of this.

Take stock first. How badly are you hurt? Sam began with her arms. Her wrists burned, that she knew. She also knew she was held by heavy metal shackles. With her mind, she followed the pain down her arms and into her sides. Bruised ribs, if not broken. Okay, she could deal with that. Next she let her mind float across her chest. Pain with every breath she took.

Her legs were spread and chained to something, she didn’t know what. Metal was poking into her back, so she assumed she was lying down on some sort of cot frame. Her left knee throbbed and pressure was building in it. Running was going to be difficult.

Sam tried to open her eyes and see where exactly she was, but they wouldn’t move. Blindfold? Nothing seemed to be wrapped around her head, so that couldn’t be it. Again, she calmed her mind and allowed herself to feel. God her face hurt. She wasn’t blindfolded, her eyes were swollen shut.

Think Sam, what is the last thing you remember? Relaxing her body, even through the extreme pain, she let her mind replay the last events she could remember. Following a white van, explosives inside, parking her Mustang on a dirt road in the woods, walking through the woods toward a shabby farm-type house. The tattoo on the man’s hand, the man she saw in the bar back home. That’s how this started. The tattoo.

It was the same tattoo she saw on the hand of her parents’ killer. Same one, same place. She remembered how fear and panic ripped through her body when she saw it. Gathering herself together, she followed the man to an abandoned building. She watched as three others joined him, all of them branded with the same tattoo. Two days were spent watching them go to that same warehouse, waiting for something to happen.

Then on the second day a moving truck pulled into the lot. Sam knew they wouldn’t reveal what was inside there for the whole world to see, so she waited for the truck to be moved inside the building. Once she felt it was safe enough to leave her vehicle, she crept toward the building the way we she would creep through thick woods, or barren desert.

The old building offered her a wealth of vantage points to see in. The best was a second storey window with its glass broken out. With deliberate skill she began to scale the side of the building. Careful not to knock mortar loose, she slipped her fingers between cracks in the cinder block wall. Muscles bunched in her arms and legs as she climbed up the building to the window.

A small balcony outside the window served perfectly for a perch and gave her an excellent vantage point to view the meeting inside. Sam’s pulse quickened as she watched the group of men unload large heavy crates from the back of the truck. When the first crate was open, she gasped.

The weaponry inside those crates would arm a small country, or destroy one. Her mind raced. What were their plans? Who did they want to destroy? And most importantly, what would her parents have to do with people like this?