The Project: A Kat Beckman Thriller, page 18
Kat knew from her time with Dr. May that when trauma happened, the brain generally had all the information stored in it, but would only release enough so that the conscious mind wouldn’t get overwhelmed. Many traumatic thoughts and memories could take years to resurface, if they ever did. Dr. May had told Kat during one of her sessions she’d always thought there were thousands of people walking around with traumatic memories in their minds that only partially resurfaced. Their unresolved issues might come out as bad behavior of one kind or another — everything as innocuous as a pervasive sense of impatience, all the way to alcoholism, food abuse, drug abuse, violence, and even self-mutilation. Experiences could be very good or they could be very bad. Unfortunately, Logan now had one very bad one he would probably need to deal with for the rest of his life.
Logan sighed. “As I said, they were focused on who I told about the information and what I had found. They asked about you, Kat. I told them you were just a friend and that you didn’t know anything.”
“And they bought that?” Van raised his eyebrows.
Logan nodded. “Seemed like they did. I keep wondering what the point of all of that was. Yeah, they were trying to get information out of me, but it was more than that. It was like they were willing to kill me, but they weren’t sure they wanted to. It was almost like the whole experience was more of a warning than anything else.”
“Warning about what?” Kat asked.
“Ruining their plans for the ARES laser system. They want me to keep quiet while they make millions.”
45
“Did you get what you needed out of your guest?”
Part of Zeke was glad that he was on the phone with Jeff Morrow, the CEO of Alphacon, and Sam Rutgers, the brains behind the development of the MARS and ARES projects, and not sitting in front of them. The last thing he wanted was for them to see the look on his face. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of the SUV. Logan Galbo had been more formidable than he’d expected. Not physically, of course. Bones would break, muscles would rip, and pain could be inflicted the same on nearly everybody through a wide variety of means. Bodies were bodies after all. Not much more than a pile of meat. Every person Zeke had ever encountered had the same nerve structures, limited blood supplies, and the same unconscious responses to pain, no matter age, race, religion, nationality, or even favorite brand of breakfast cereal.
Logan was different. He had steel inside of him, not willing to budge on giving Zeke and his team any information. Even the threat of Kim’s knife skills didn’t get much of a response. Zeke frowned. It was clear that Logan knew about the ARES project. How much he had leaked was yet to be determined.
As Zeke drove, listening to Jeff and Sam prattle on about the status of ARES, Zeke winced. He remembered the moment the Director of IT, a small, fine-boned Asian woman with thick glasses, bright red lipstick, and a tightly twisted bun perched on the top of her head, strode into his office with her lips pursed, telling him about the data Logan had stolen.
That wasn’t the worst part of it. Corporate espionage happened all the time. The IT department at Alphacon was constantly fighting off intrusions from outside — companies that wanted to get all of the information they could from Alphacon to steal, manipulate and beat them to market. That was expected. But from within? Not so much.
Nora, the head of IT, had set a single sheet of paper down on Zeke’s desk with the IP address, desk location, and the serial number of the computer that had been used to steal copies of classified, proprietary information on MARS and ARES. Zeke remembered narrowing his eyes, asking her one simple question, “What did he take?”
Nora shook her head, a single wisp of black hair settling near her cheekbone. “Hard to tell exactly. Looks like emails, copies of contracts, and technical specifications.” She drew in a breath. “The emails weren’t any run-of-the-mill ones. They were linked to your account, Jeff’s, and Sam’s. He knows everything you do.” The words landed like a ton of bricks.
Without saying anything more, Nora turned on her heel and walked out the door.
Zeke tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he drove, listening to Sam and Jeff as his thoughts swirled in his head like a cyclone. Nora, at least, had the sense to let him know that the emails had been found, but didn’t say much more after that. She had to have seen the communications between the men, probably read them, might have even kept copies of them in her personal records. But Nora was smart, smart enough to know that she shouldn’t get involved in things that weren’t her business.
And while the MARS project was certainly front and center at Alphacon, ARES wasn’t.
Sam’s voice interrupted Zeke’s thoughts: “Regardless of what’s going on, the data we're getting back from the installation at the Protea is exactly what we were looking for. I’m sure the outputs are a little bit more than the Navy was expecting,” he said, chuckling. “I’d like to have seen the looks on their faces when that beam lit up.”
“Expecting? They probably have no idea what they have on board.” Zeke could imagine the sly smile on Jeff’s face as the words came out of his mouth.
Sam chuckled. “That’s true enough. At any rate, Supernova is ready. We just gotta get through this last test and then time to cash in.”
Jeff took over the conversation as Zeke’s SUV bumped onto the driveway to the hunting cabin where they had left Logan to stew for a while. “Do you think you’re going to be able to get anything out of Logan, Zeke?”
Zeke glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing the matching black SUV behind him carrying the rest of the team – Reggie, Tom, John, and Kim. They needed to clean up the mess that had been left behind before some unlucky hunter found what they’d done to George Hunt. Zeke licked his lips. “All I can tell you is we're doing everything possible to get the information out of him.”
“And then you’ll make him disappear?”
Zeke narrowed his eyes as he pulled up to the gate. His SUV was in the lead, but he knew one of his guys would jump out of the vehicle behind him and unlock it. “Yes, sir. That’s the plan.”
“Good, good,” Jeff muttered. “We only need to hold this project together for a few more days, gentlemen, and then we will all see a very nice payday.”
Although Jeff didn’t say it directly, Zeke knew from their previous conversations that the pressure was really on him. Tension filled Zeke’s shoulders as he watched his men move through his side-view mirror. In some respects, he felt like the little Dutch boy sticking his fingers in the seawall, trying to keep the town from flooding. Sure, he had help from his team, but the responsibility was on him to keep the rogue elements, like Bobby Jenkins, George Hunt, and Logan Galbo, under wraps.
Zeke shook his head slowly as he pulled the truck through the gate and drove up the hillside to the hunting cabin. George Hunt’s involvement had been wrapped up. His team would have the unsavory pleasure of cleaning up the man’s rotting carcass. But they still had some work to do on Logan. Zeke blinked. What Logan knew was immaterial. Who he told was critical. Any leaks could destroy their ability to sell ARES. That’s what they needed to know. After that, Jeff had said to disappear him. That was the easy part. The hard part was trying to get Logan to tell them exactly who else he’d snitched to.
As Zeke pulled up in front of the hunting cabin, the image of the petite blonde woman he’d seen with Logan at the baseball field popped into his mind. Even under duress, Logan had insisted that the woman was no one.
Was she?
Something in Zeke’s gut told him that the woman was more of a threat than he’d ever realized. His gut was rarely wrong.
Getting out of the SUV, Zeke slammed the door, shoving the key fob in his pocket. He strode around the front of the vehicle, waiting for the rest of his team to join him. As soon as they did, he grouped them together. “Ladies and gentlemen, the activities for this afternoon are twofold and quite simple,” he barked at them, sounding more like a drill sergeant than a leader of a corporate security team. “Mission one is to see if our guest has been softened up enough to give us information on who he’s been chatting with.” Zeke looked at Reggie and Tom, who were both standing with their arms crossed in front of their chest. “Why don’t the two of you go into the cabin and give me a quick assessment before I join you? Let’s see if the guy has managed not to wet himself since we left him.” Zeke turned his head, staring at John and Kim. “You two stand guard out here. Once Reggie and Tom and I are done with Mr. Galbo, then we will work on disposal. That is mission two.” John and Kim nodded, Zeke noting the ripple of muscle across John’s jaw. John liked to be in the middle of the action. He’d probably prefer to be in the cabin, helping with Logan, but there was something about John that Zeke didn’t fully trust. At least not yet.
Just as Zeke took his first steps toward the cabin, he saw Reggie’s broad shoulders come out of the narrow doorway, his mouth hanging open. “Boss, he’s gone.”
Zeke paused for a moment, wondering if he understood the words that were coming out of Reggie’s mouth. “Gone? What are you talking about?”
Reggie raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “I know we left him tied up in there, but he’s not there anymore.”
Zeke took off at a run, charging through the door into the hunting cabin, his head on a swivel, nearly knocking over Reggie in the process. He hit the door to the cabin so hard that it banged against the wall, clattering the dishes inside the cupboards of the kitchenette. Zeke stopped inside the doorway. He took in everything in front of him — the twin bed, neatly covered in a blanket, the toolbox on the counter of the kitchenette, the curtain blowing in the breeze, and the empty wooden chair.
The empty wooden chair…
Zeke strode over to the chair, picking up the broken cable ties and flinging them toward the nearest wall. “How in God’s name did he get loose?” he bellowed, spinning around. The only other person who was brave enough to follow him into the cabin was Reggie. Reggie shook his head and shrugged again, his face relaxed, as if everything in him was saying, “Sorry, not my problem.”
Fury filled Zeke’s body, heat gathering in his belly. “What a bunch of incompetent, inept…” he muttered under his breath as he stepped into the sunlight. He took a couple of long strides and ended up nose-to-nose with Tom. “You’re the one that took him the water. Didn’t you check his cable ties?”
Tom didn’t say anything for a minute, as if considering his options. He folded his arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes. “Check his cable ties? You told me to take him water and let him drink half of it. That’s what I did. If Logan got away, that’s your problem, not mine.”
Blood rushed to Zeke’s face as fury rippled through him. He drew the pistol from his holster and shot Tom between the eyes. Kim gasped, and the rest of the team stepped back, the gunshot echoing off the hillside. Tom’s body dropped to the ground as a few animals scurried away.
Zeke stared at what was left of his team. Reggie lifted the edge of his shirt and used it to wipe a faint spray of blood from Tom’s head off of his face. Zeke holstered his gun. The rage he felt was subsiding, but only a little. He pointed to Kim and John. “You two, drag that sorry excuse for a man into the barn.”
Without saying anything, the two of them moved in silence toward Tom’s limp body. Zeke didn’t watch. He listened, hearing the gravel grinding underneath Tom’s dead body as he turned to Reggie. Reggie’s face was blank, as if he’d just watched something as innocuous as a commercial for dog food on television. Nothing flustered him. That was one of the reasons Reggie was the team lead. Unlike Tom, Zeke could count on Reggie. Zeke stared down the hillside for a moment before speaking. “Well, it looks like everyone’s share just increased.”
“Glad to hear it. Tom was always a wildcard anyway.” Reggie glanced toward the barn where John and Kim had disappeared with what was left of Tom. “What do we do now?”
“Burn it to the ground.”
Zeke was the one to light the match. Reggie, Kim, and John had each taken a bright red jerrican filled with gasoline and spilled the contents all over the hunting cabin and the barn, dousing everything with the liquid, the sweet fumes so thick it made Zeke’s eyes and nose burn. His phone pinged with a text. Nora. “I found an outgoing set of emails from Logan Galbo to a reporter. Thought you’d want to know.” A sneer curled Logan’s lip. “Bingo,” he muttered under his breath. He knew the woman at the baseball field was trouble. His gut was right.
Glancing at the cabin, he held out his hand for the pack of matches Reggie had been playing with for the last few minutes. No one needed to know what had gone on here. The cabin was so far off the beaten path, that there was no chance the fire department could make it up the hillside fast enough to get there before the flames ate through the old wood of the barn and hunting cabin. That was if anyone even noticed. That was a big if. The cabin belonged to a vacation rental company. No one would care if it burned to the ground, least of all Zeke.
Zeke struck the match against the strip on the pack, smelling sulfur. He tossed the flame into the cabin and then one into the barn. With a whoosh, the gasoline ignited. The smell of smoke filled the air, the crackle of the old wood becoming engulfed by the fire. Zeke stood for another minute, wanting to make sure the evidence they’d left behind was fully eliminated. Losing Logan Galbo had been a setback. It was one that Jeff would not be happy about. But, as Zeke had learned throughout his career, it wasn’t the mistakes that defined a man, it was the correction.
Finding Logan and ending him would be the best revenge of his career.
46
With Logan feeling better after breakfast, Van suggested they all go together to The Hot Sheet to do a deep dive on Alphacon. Kat started to object, wanting a little peace and quiet, but saw the look on her husband’s face, stony and steel-eyed. “No, don’t even say it. We're all staying together.”
“All right, fine enough. Give me twenty minutes to get ready.”
Kat, Van, Logan, and the two dogs piled into Van’s truck for the drive to the office. Van, who was normally jovial no matter what the circumstances, seemed quiet, quieter than he should be. Kat reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. He glanced over at her, quickly dropping it, giving her a nod. Part of her wanted to be hurt by his quick release, but she knew he was concentrating, processing everything Logan had said, trying to figure out how to keep all of them safe. She glanced at him. Van was fiercely loyal. The fact that Alphacon was preparing to commit treason against the United States, given Van’s military background and all of the people they had helped over the years who were military members, wouldn’t sit well with him.
It didn’t sit well with her either.
Upon seeing where they had arrived, the two dogs scampered out of the car, barely containing their excitement at being able to go to the office. By the look on Dillon’s face, Kat knew that as much as he was concentrating on doing his job at comforting her, part of him was much more interested in visiting Aunt Stephanie and her box of dog treats. She smiled. Kat glanced at Tyrant as Van led him into the building. The brown Belgian Malinois didn’t seem nearly so happy-go-lucky as his younger brother. In fact, Tyrant seemed preoccupied and more vigilant than usual. Whether it was Logan’s presence or something evil on the horizon that only a dog could sense, she didn’t know.
By the time they walked into the building, it was late morning. That wasn’t unusual for Van’s arrival, but the bruised and beaten man that came with him certainly earned them a few stares.
The office was filled with hustle and bustle as usual, with groups of journalists, web designers, proofreaders and copy editors surging together and then breaking apart. To Kat, it looked like a school of fish dodging and darting through the waves, small groups breaking off and then rejoining the larger group, only to break off again.
Seeing them emerge at the door, Stephanie charged toward them, her fluff of curly hair even larger than usual. She had on a red dress that had tiny flowers all over it, tennis shoes on her feet, and a zip-up hoodie jacket over her shoulders. She knelt to greet the dogs, heading back to her desk for treats before introducing herself to Logan. “I’m Stephanie. I’m Van’s assistant and den mother to this hot mess at The Hot Sheet,” she said loudly enough that Kat was sure anyone on the floor would have heard her calling everyone a hot mess.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Logan.”
Kat saw Stephanie search Van’s face. Without asking the question about what Logan was doing in the office and why he was in the condition he was, Van looked at her. “We need to get set up in the conference room. Logan’s here to help us do a deep dive on a story we're working on. Safety in numbers, if you know what I mean.”
Stephanie nodded. “Sure, whatever you need.”
Kat leaned toward Stephanie, whispering, “We could use a few ice packs, a bottle of ibuprofen and if you’d like to go ahead and order subs for lunch, that would be great. Make sure to get yourself one, too.”
Stephanie nodded as if catching the hint from Kat that this wasn’t exactly the right time to ask questions.
Kat turned away, tugging on Dillon’s leash. Tyrant followed. Van darted off to his office. She called behind her, “Come on, Logan. The conference room is right over here.”
It took a few minutes, but Kat and Logan managed to get themselves set up in the conference room. Stephanie arrived a minute later, tugging two dog beds and bottles of water with her, setting them on the center of the table. She disappeared again and came back with ice packs and an oversized bottle of ibuprofen. Kat glanced up and nodded at her. “Thanks.” She frowned for a minute, half expecting Van to already be in the conference room with them. “Any sign of Van?”
Stephanie frowned. “No. He disappeared.”
47
Van was leaning over his desk, staring at his screen, dealing with a few pressing emails when he heard someone knock on the frame of his door. Without looking up, he said, “Come.” Before he had a chance to see who had shown up in his office unannounced, a picture slid across his desk. He stared at it. It was him, Kat, and the dogs standing in the driveway, taken that morning as they were loading up the truck. A chill ran down his spine. He lifted his gaze slowly. A small Asian woman stood in front of him, with bright red lipstick and thick glasses, her hair piled in a bun high on the top of her head.
