Fatal (21 page)

“Describe the device again,” Wesling said. She had a pad in front of her. She had filled three pages with notes. Now she flipped to a new page.

“It’s a box kind of thing,” Ronnie said. “That’s all I can tell you. They were putting some kind of pieces into the middle of it. Each piece had a wire attached to it. That part in the middle was round and it was sitting in a mount, like a stand. Everything else was wires. I don’t know what it was.”

“Tell me again how big you think it was.”

“Maybe head height,” Ronnie said. “Maybe three feet high. What do you think it was?”

Wesling looked sick. “With Vit working on it at Omsk? It has to be a bomb. There’s nothing else it can be. He doesn’t build stereo systems.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Report back up the chain. What happens now isn’t for me to decide. We know Vit is working with Andropov and that’s what we were assigned to confirm.”

“So you just file a report and walk away? That’s your job?”

“Yes. I gather information, try to piece things together. Sometimes it’s not as easy as this. In fact, most of the time it’s not as easy as this. We’ve established that Vit is in a facility overseen by Andropov. That facility is geared toward research and innovation. We also know that Andropov is in a shaky relationship with the man we’re going to be negotiating with at the summit. With the background and a few key facts, we can draw a reasonable conclusion that Vit is building a weapon. The negotiators use that information to find a position that can prevent that happening. Or they could do something else.”

“Something else? Like what?”

Wesling hesitated. Ronnie was an unusual case. By the very nature of his presence here, he was given information that ordinarily would be closely held. He couldn’t function without it. Strictly speaking, he shouldn’t be told anything unless there was a valid reason. The darker aspects of what he was doing, the actions taken because of his ability, had never occurred to him. He wasn’t stupid though. The background reports on him indicated a high level of intelligence. They also indicated he was no stranger to violence. Wesling decided to give it to him straight.

“It’s quite possible that the decision may be made to eliminate the threat by whatever means necessary.”

“You mean kill Vit.”

Wesling nodded. “Kill Vit, which would be tough and could cause major problems if not done correctly. They might decide to eliminate members of his team, or more than likely an accident at the plant that destroyed the work. It could be any or all of the above. That’s not for me to decide.”

“It doesn’t bother you to know that you might be helping to kill someone?”

“I’ve read your file. Did it bother you to kill that man in your house? Or Thorne?”

That startled Ronnie. He had no idea that Wesling knew that much about his past. He thought back to his actions then. At the time, he and Cassie had been young and scared to death. Their discovery that Thorne, an agent of General Archer at the time, intended to kidnap them, had set off a chain of events that pushed him beyond anything he’d believed he could do, including murder. But was it murder if it was self-defense? He spent many a night debating that problem.

“That was different. I had to defend myself, and Cassie too.”

“I understand,” Wesling said. “I’m not judging you. This situation is similar. Is it wrong to eliminate Vit if his actions endanger the lives of other people? In this case, we’re talking more than just you. We’re talking thousands, potentially. There’s no telling what Andropov might do. Vit is his weapon. Take his weapon away and the threat is gone, at least for a while.”

Ronnie got up from the table. “I’m going back to my room. My head hurts too much to be thinking about this.”

Wesling held up her hand. “You need to think about this. Frankly, I don’t know what Francis is going to do if he finds out your usefulness is limited. Getting Cassie in here and cooperating may be the only hope you have. Otherwise, he’ll keep you until you’re useless or dead. Cassie too.”

Ronnie went out the door without answering.

*****

Beuhl was sitting on his front porch, a tall glass of orange juice by his side. Karen was inside. She commandeered the kitchen that morning, tossing him outside when he got too involved in making breakfast. The night had gone well. The hay was soft and sweet smelling. Karen even more so. For the first time in years Beuhl was feeling a kind of contentment that he never even know he missed. He had money. He had time on his hands. The feeling that things were coming full circle, into a place where he could live and be happy, felt like it was right at his fingertips.

Karen was singing to herself as she cooked, a soft country tune he couldn’t place, but it sounded familiar. It was early enough to still be cool, but the sky overhead was cloudless. Before long, the dogs would have their tongues hanging out, looking for shade and a breeze. He was thinking about the chances of getting Karen back upstairs when he saw movement on the road. From his seat on the porch he could look to his right and see the vague outline of the highway that led past the Ag Center, look left and see a ribbon of dusty road, poorly paved but adequate for the sparse traffic that passed. It was to the left he could see someone walking.

Whoever it might be, they were walking steadily, one foot after another. Beuhl could see a ball cap and figured it to be some farmer’s son broken down on the road, making his way for the nearest house and a phone. That would be his place. The figure stopped for a minute a few hundred yards away, then resumed walking. Beuhl could see a jacket, unzipped at the front, and tennis shoes. He looked again, something familiar there, but he couldn’t quite place it. The hiker reached his driveway and turned in.

Karen came out on the porch. She was barefoot, wearing one of Beuhl’s shirts and nothing else. Last night had gone exceptionally well, he thought again. “Everything’s ready,” she said. Beuhl stood up, moving to the stairs. Whoever the walker was, they had found his driveway and started up toward the house. Karen followed his gaze. “You expecting company?” Karen asked, and Beuhl shook his head. His breath caught in his throat and stayed there. The figure stopped twenty yards away next to his truck. The hat came off and a pile of curly brown hair piled out from underneath. Beuhl sat down heavily on the top step.

“I need your help,” Cassie said.

*****

“Are you sure he’s in Omsk?” Francis asked. “If that’s the case, I can act on that information. If there’s a mistake it could cost one of my men their life. It could also cost me my career, not to mention yours, and endanger the organization.”

“Yes,” Wesling said. “Before we started he was fully briefed. He described the whole scene and it fits perfectly with Omsk, which means they’re working on something special. He even described the piece they were working on and it jibes perfectly with the type of device we suspected. Vit is going to give our friend Andropov the perfect weapon.”

Wesling had come to Francis immediately after her meeting with Ronnie. Bad news, by its nature, had to travel fast. They were seated at a table in the cafeteria, drinking the bitter coffee.

“And you’re satisfied that Ronnie Gilmore is the real thing?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it. But there is one thing you should know. He can’t continue doing this. When he came out of the trance, or the travel, or whatever you want to call it, he looked like death warmed over. The doctor says his blood pressure was sky high and his heartbeat was erratic. If he keeps it up, we’ll kill him.”

Francis stood up. “You’ve done some good work here, Dr. Wesling. I’ll make sure this information gets into the right hands.”

Wesling wasn’t finished. “What about the boy? Are you going to let him go?”

“I think not, Doctor. How can we?” Francis tossed his cup in the trash. “Why are you asking? Do I sense some professional interest here? You’d like to work with him more, wouldn’t you? He does offer some interesting possibilities.”

“I was thinking,” Wesling said, “that he doesn’t do us any good if he’s dead. I think he’s lived out his usefulness to us.”

Francis wasn’t buying it. He shook his head, giving Wesling a look that could almost be taken for pity. “But he is useful to us. We can use him again, I think. But it’s more than that. He’s the best bait we have to bring the girl in. If you think the boy is talented, wait till you meet Cassie Reynold. If anything, she’s even better than he is, more intuitive, more perceptive. You’ve read the analysis.”

“Yes, I have.” Wesling said. “Let’s be frank here, Agent Francis. From what I’ve read in the reports, General Archer used them only when absolutely necessary. He gained their trust. He got excellent information from them without overplaying his hand. It was a system that worked well.” She pointed to her notes on the table. “But I can also read what happened when this girl fought back. How many men did we lose? The bottom line is this: if you try to keep them against your will, you might be able to do it. But the information you get will always be suspect. There’s also the second possibility.”

“And what’s that?” Francis asked.

“You might get another bloodbath, get more people killed. Ronnie could die, along with Cassie and quite likely a lot of other people. And if they die we lose the best assets we could ever hope for.”

“You listen to me, Dr. Wesling.” Francis, who had been on his way out, turned and took two quick steps back to the table. He leaned in close, poking his finger at Wesling. “They’re mine. You understand?” The change was stunning. In the space of a second, Francis had gone from calm and thoughtful to outraged. “I’m not going to risk anyone else getting their hands on them. They’re mine and I’ll use them the way I see fit. You handle your end of the deal and I’ll handle mine. My deal is getting them under control. Your deal is getting information from them. Do we understand each other?”

Wesling nodded, afraid to do anything else. “Yes, I do. I’m just trying to get the best situation for everyone.”

Francis stood straight again, adjusted his tie, and moved off. Before he went through the door, he turned back to Wesling. “Nothing is going to stop this project, Dr. Wesling. Nothing. The girl will be found. They will remain under my control. Anyone who gets in my way will be dealt with. If you want the chance to keep working with them, don’t cross me.” He turned and walked off, leaving Wesling alone with a cup of bad coffee that was now burning a hole in her stomach.

*****

The breakfast was finished and Karen was cleaning up. Clayton Beuhl and Cassie Reynold were sitting across the table from each other, each staring into their own coffee cup. Cassie had eaten ravenously, and now that she found herself in a safe haven, was feeling the weight of the last few days. For his part, Beuhl was incredulous. The girl in front of him just spent the better part of an hour weaving her way through a long incredible tale of psychic mumbo jumbo and wayward government agents. If he saw it on TV, he would think it was a clever story, woven from imagination. The girl, however, was sitting at his table, eating his food.

Underneath it all was a kernel of sincerity. Cassie spoke quietly and with firm conviction, as if she were telling a story about going to the grocery or walking her dog. The whole thing had the feel of truth. There was also, of course, the fact that Beuhl had seen this girl appear in his front yard, plop down in front of him from out of nowhere. What he had been trying to believe the result of too many beers, too much boredom, and a weak grasp on real life, had suddenly become an unbelievable reality. That reality had just polished off three scrambled eggs and a generous helping of bacon. Throw in the fact that Beuhl had his own doubts about what was happening behind his house, had in fact spent weeks documenting the coming and going of cars and trucks and people, and spent more than one night watching and wondering, and he was left with only a weak protest.

“That’s a pretty incredible story,” he said. “And you think it was your boyfriend I saw in the back of that car?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s not a lot of people fitting that description that would be right here where I wound up. Yes, the date is right and the description is dead on. Why else would I be here?”

Karen came back to the table with a fresh pot of coffee, poured for everyone, and sat down in her own chair. The whole time Cassie was relating her story, Karen hadn’t said anything. Now, she spoke her mind.

“I don’t know about this whole thing with the visions, but I’m smart enough to know there’s plenty of things in this world that can’t be explained. Why can’t we go to the police about this? Make them search the place or something? If your boyfriend is there, they could get him out.”

Cassie shook her head. “When we were in New Orleans they bought off the police. That’s in a major city. How likely is it that your local Sheriff is willing to defy the federal government? Not likely, is it? Once they told him to back off, he would turn around and give them anything they wanted, which means me. I walk into a police station and I might as well walk over to that Ag Center and knock on the door.”

“Honey, what exactly do you want Clayton and I to do for you?” Karen said.

“I’m not sure I want you to be involved in anything that’s going to happen,” Cassie said. “I’m not going to lie to you. The last time someone helped me, one of them ended up dying. Right now, I just need a place to sleep. I have to figure out how to get in there, or get Ronnie out of there. Then I have to find a way to stop them from trying this again.”