The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) (28 page)
Read The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) Online
Authors: T.K. Harris
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Yuri clenched his jaw, wondering what the robin-hood "watchers" had planned. He wasn’t ready for this think go blow up yet.
Abruptly he logged off, picking up the phone to call Barrett. It rang too many times, for his liking, before he heard, "Hello."
"Get the detainees ready to transport today."
There was a pause before Barrett said, "There’s no way."
"Make. It. Happen."
He thought he heard muffled curses and then, "The earliest possible time would be tomorrow. Probably in the afternoon."
"Fine. Just do it."
"What difference does a day make?"
"We have our reasons. I want a report the minute you move them outside. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good."
"What about the doctor?"
Yuri had to work to keep his voice even as he replied, "I understand that you’ve already made plans to handle it despite what we told you."
"Just a precaution."
"Fine. Then consider her your responsibility from this point on."
"Meaning?"
"Do whatever you want with her."
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Jane stared out the bus window, wondering what she should do next. The bus had already made several stops over the last twenty minutes, but no one had tried to make contact with her. She wondered if she should have kept her phone turned on as they pulled into the next stop. She watched several tourists get off, cameras and kids in tow.
I should have stayed in Afghanistan,
she thought.
Though she had been even more confined there, at least in Afghanistan she knew that
what
they were doing was the right thing. They were trying to end a war. And her skills were respected. Feared. But still respected. And that had been comforting.
Absently, Jane noticed someone taking the empty seat next to her. She'd chosen to sit all the way in the back of the bus to discourage this. Her mind, kicking in gear, reminded her why she was on the bus in the first place and she glanced over at the young kid now sitting beside her. She took in his dark hair and slim build, placing him somewhere between eighteen and twenty-five. She waited to see if he said anything but, when he didn't, she decided to turn her phone back on.
As she was reaching in her backpack to pull it out, the kid moved, setting his motorcycle jacket in his lap. A vaguely recalled memory, caused Jane to pause, first looking at the jacket and then the kid.
The coffee shop in Denver.
"You!"
The kid looked at her, his dark eyes pleading with her as he motioned for her to be quieter.
"Sorry," she whispered. "You were the one that sat next to me in the coffee shop right? Are you the one that sent me the note?"
He smiled, holding out his hand. "Jason."
Shaking his hand she whispered, "Nice to meet you. Now tell me what the hell is going on!"
Jason chuckled. "Patience."
A moment later they pulled into another stop and he rose, gesturing for her to follow. Bewildered, she picked up her backpack and followed him off. They walked for several feet until they came to a sleek blue and white motorcycle that looked like it was built to fly. He handed her the helmet and then got onto the bike and started it up. She noticed that one side had FZ1 painted on it and wondered what that meant.
"Get on."
Looking at the all but non-existent passenger seat, she shook her head. "No thank you. I don't ride motorcycles, I don't talk to strangers, and I am
not
going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."
Sighing, the kid turned off the motorcycle, staring at her. Emotions flitted across his face too fast for her to comprehend. Finally he said, "You're in danger. I'm taking you to one of Alex's 'friends'
who will make sure you stay safe until this all blows over."
Jane didn't like the way he bunny eared the word
friends
and she certainly didn't like the idea of following someone she didn't know to lord knew where. She said as much to Jason and then asked, "Why should I trust you?"
Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jason pulled out his phone and made a call. A moment later he said, "She doesn't want to go."
He listened for a moment before handing her the phone.
Hesitantly she took it, putting it to her ear. "Who is this?"
"Doctor Lyndsay." The voice was that of an older man. "My name is not important but I must insist that you put your trust in Jason and listen to him. We have intercepted communications that states someone believes you have become a liability. I must apologize if your involvement in working with us has put you in danger."
"Are you 42?"
She heard a soft chuckle at the other end of the line. "I'm afraid I don't have enough time to explain the answer to that question. I will simply say that I am 42 and yet not, and, that we would like to help gr@yg@nd01f and the others trapped by this political stupidity. With what you did for us, we think we may be able to put an end to this soon. And, because of your help and the fact that gr@yg@nd01f seems to trust you –"
Jane snorted at the last comment. She seriously doubted Alex trusted her far enough to throw her. He'd only confided out of necessity. She said as much.
"Regardless, doctor. You helped us and now we're going to help you against this threat."
"What is this threat?"
"That, we do not know. Only that we found communications stating that you would be, and I quote, 'taken care of'. It did not sound like a good thing. What it means exactly, we do not know. But, as a precaution we would like to put you and Jason somewhere safe until this goes away."
"So the keylogger worked then?"
"Yes. But this information came from another source."
Not sure how to respond, she glanced at Jason. He gave her a slightly cocky smile. The kid seemed far from resembling a killer.
So did Ted Bundy,
murmured the unhelpful voice in the back of her mind.
She recalled the uneasy feeling she'd had since completing her 'mission' and then David’s call earlier. She already knew she was in some sort of trouble. And it wasn't like she worked directly for the FBI. If she left for a few days, so what? Of course, she'd have some explaining to do to her real employers.
Finally, she said, "Fine. What do I need to do?"
She listened as the man on the other end of the line explained and then hung up.
Handing the phone to Jason, she said, "Okay. Let's go."
What seemed like several terrifying hours later, they pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of some run down general store-cum-gas station. When the bike came to a stop, it took Jane a few seconds to finally loosen her death grip on Jason and stiffly get off the bike. Silently, she vowed never to get back on one again. No matter
what
the danger.
As Jason got off, they both turned at the approaching sound of a large vehicle. They watched as a very expensive looking black Escalade pulled in and parked. As the door opened and the driver stepped out, Jane's eyes widened. Though only around 5'9, Jane could tell the driver was a man you ignored at your own risk.
As he walked toward them, Jane noticed that the driver's black hair was cut short in military style and he was dressed from head to toe in black. Black t-shirt, black cargo pants and black boots. His t-shirt stretched over a well-muscled chest and his eyes looked alert and cold. He skin was tanned and he looked to be of Latino descent. And incredibly good looking.
"Jason. Doctor Lyndsay."
Their names were uttered as a statement in a voice that sounded as if it was used to giving commands.
She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she started seeing spots. She took a deep breath, ready to ask a question when Jason demanded, "How do you know Alex?"
Jane looked from the soldier – for he was definitely either a soldier or ex-soldier – to Jason and then back to the soldier, wondering if questioning this man resulted in quick and untimely deaths.
She'd been surrounded by soldiers like this as she worked interrogations. It didn't matter the military branch, they were all trained to be the best of the best at what they did. Which was usually extracting or killing targets under extreme conditions. She knew when to be afraid.
The man's smile never reached his eyes. "Not a need to know. We need to go, now. You'll have to leave the bike."
Jason shook his head. "I've got my own plans."
The soldier quirked an eyebrow, then turned to Jane. "Let's go."
Jane swallowed against the intensity of the man’s gaze and her body’s inexplicable reaction, especially given her circumstances, and glanced at Jason. "Where are you going? How will we know you're okay?"
Jason gave her another cocky smile and Jane realized it suited him.
"Once he's out, just tell Alex that I should have taken that left at Albuquerque. And that I never liked the Black Forest. He'll know where to find me."
For a moment, Jane thought she heard the man next to her chuckle but, when she turned to look at him, his face looked as if it had been set in stone. Turning a confused gaze back to Jason, she told him she would relay his message and thanked him for his help. Then watched as Jason climbed back on his bike, sans helmet, and took off.
Stupid kid,
she thought, before turning to the SUV and the man who was waiting for her. Feeling a bit like Little Red Riding Hood following the big bad wolf she had a sudden hope that he had already eaten.
Once inside she realized the man was wearing a cologne that smelled impossibly good for someone that looked like he could rip people's heads off with his bare hands. As they drove, she swallowed as she realized he'd never given them his name.
At least he smells good,
she thought.
The driver didn't even turn to look at her when she let out a nervous laugh and Jane suppressed a shiver as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Maybe Jason wasn't the stupid one here
.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Michael was getting ready for an intense session of WoW gaming when his monitoring alerts went off. Jumping onto the designated private chatroom, he began to read through the data they'd downloaded for the day. So far it had been a total waste. The senator was as boring as they came.
Michael ignored him. He had, at first, been glad when µβ had agreed to bring g@mb1t on board with this project, but hadn’t realized just how much having kh@n had buffered g@mb1t’s sheer annoyingness. Michael still wasn’t sure why kh@n was being left out, but g@mb1t didn’t seem to care.
<µβ> working on it
Michael was about to respond that he agreed when something in the logs caught his eye. Opening one of the files, he scanned a few lines and let out a loud ‘whoot!’.
<µβ> seriously g@mb1t?
<µβ> right on! ready to do some more reading fags?
g@mb1t posted a crude picture of what he was really thinking before typing: hopefully they’re more interesting than the senator's snoozefest.
Ignoring g@mb1t, µβ typed out who would take what, asking Michael to make it happen.
Michael was nodding in agreement as he opened up Barrett’s emails and began parsing out the folders the way µβ had suggested. After making sure everyone had access to what they needed, he read back through the logs and noticed another set of login credentials. Opening these, he followed the login trail, his eyes widening when he realized what they were for.
Excitedly he logged into what could only be Barrett’s offshore accounts, letting out a low whistle when he saw the balances. Any shred of doubt he may have had that the FBI was on the uptake – not that there had been much – went out the window. There was no way Barrett was legit with these kinds of numbers. Working for the FBI did not net you that kind of money!
Briefly Michael wondered what µβ would do if he siphoned off just a little bit. There were a few US based and world-wide gaming conventions he had been dying to go to but didn’t have the money. And he could use some new equipment!
He spent a few minutes day dreaming about the possibilities before he admitted that he wasn’t ready to risk it. Not yet anyway. Instead, Michael pulled out information for just one of the accounts and funneled the rest straight to µβ. Maybe, after this was all over, and he was sure he had covered his tracks, he might just dip in. He laughed out loud at the idea.
"Michael, keep it down in there," his mom yelled. "I'm trying to watch my shows!"
Rolling his eyes, Michael went back to scanning the logs. Finding nothing new, he settled in for a night of tedious email reading.