The Midas Code tl-2 Page 5

  The only car left was a cherry-red Dodge Viper. A crewman next to it was looking around. Grant ran up to him.

  “This yours?” the man said. “I was just about to call the tow truck. Be a shame with a car as nice as this.”

  “Sorry I’m late,” Grant said to the man as he opened the driver’s door. “Bad time for a bathroom break.”

  He opened the glove box and found the keys Tyler had left for him. He started the car and roared out of the ferry.

  Tyler was waiting for him two streets over in the SILVERLAKE TRANSPORT truck. Grant pulled up along the driver’s side. Tyler leaned through the window.

  “We can’t get out, partner. Orders.”

  “We?”

  A beautiful blonde peeked her head around. Grant shook his head. He definitely wanted to hear what that was about.

  “Your friend can’t drive a stick?” Grant asked.

  “We’re supposed to stay in the truck,” Tyler said. “Just follow us, but not too close.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  With his hands out the window, Tyler quickly signed to Grant. The truck has eyes and ears. No calls. Tyler’s deaf grandmother had taught him American Sign Language, and he in turn had taught it to Grant during their stint together in the Army.

  Grant nodded, but he had no clue why the truck was bugged. He shook his head and put the Viper into gear to follow.

  Tyler drove off, and Grant stayed a respectful distance behind. The rain that until now had only threatened started coming down in a patter that rippled on the Viper’s cloth roof.

  For thirty minutes, they drove south and west, eventually turning onto a gravel road. A rotted wooden sign read STILLAGUAMISH STONEWORKS. In less than a minute, the road ended at an abandoned quarry partially filled with water. Tyler stopped the truck at the edge of the pond.

  Grant parked, flipped his rain hood up, and got out. He was halfway to the truck when Tyler and his new friend exited the cab.

  “Ready to tell me what this is about?” Grant said as he approached.

  Tyler waved him back. He had what looked like a canvas sack under his arm. The woman next to him didn’t seem to care about the rain drenching her.

  “We’re leaving,” he said. “Pop the trunk.”

  Grant hit the button and followed Tyler, who laid the item down carefully.

  “What is that?”

  Tyler threw the canvas aside to reveal a shiny bronze device. Grant recognized it immediately.

  “Isn’t that the geolabe you built?”

  “Yup.”

  “Now I’m really curious.”

  “I’ll explain on the way.” Tyler closed the trunk.

  “You want to drive?” Grant asked. The Viper had only two seats. One of them was going to have the woman on his lap.

  Tyler squinted at Grant’s bulk and shook his head. “You better.” Tyler turned to the woman. “Sorry, but it looks like it’s you and me.”

  The woman brushed Tyler’s apology aside. “To get away from that bomb? Are you kidding? Get in. I’ll try not to crush you.”

  No chance of that, Grant thought as he eyed her tiny frame.

  They piled into the cramped cockpit, the woman perched on Tyler’s legs. Once they were seated with the doors closed, Grant turned to Tyler. “Did she just say ‘bomb’?”

  “I couldn’t tell you on the phone,” Tyler said, “but there’s enough binary explosive in that truck to jump-start a volcano.”

  While Grant processed that bit of news, he turned the Viper around and sped toward the exit. Tyler tapped the screen on his cell phone and put it on speaker. After one ring, a man answered.

  “Are you in your car with Grant Westfield?” the man said, to Grant’s surprise. “I knew you’d get him involved at some point anyway, so I thought he should join in the fun.”

  Grant shot Tyler a pointed glance, but Tyler put up a hand that said, “I’ll tell you later.”

  “He followed me to the quarry just like you instructed. And we disconnected the geolabe from the bomb.”

  “Drive back to the ferry. I’ll take care of the truck.”

  “Why are we going back to the ferry?” Tyler asked. “Another bomb?”

  “No,” the voice on the phone said. “Just that one.”

  As they reached the quarry’s sign, Tyler said, “Before we go anywhere else, I want to—”

  A tremendous blast shook the car. All three of them ducked instinctively. Grant mashed the pedal to the floor, throwing a plume of gravel behind him. In the rearview mirror he saw a cloud of black smoke that was already being dissipated by the pouring rain. The sound of the explosion would have been heard for miles, but no one would be able to tell where it came from. It might even be mistaken for a crack of thunder, though lightning storms were rare in the Pacific Northwest.

  Grant kept driving. There was no reason to stop and go back to the truck. The only thing they’d see was tiny pieces. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whole truck had been blown into the water.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, you maniac!” the woman shouted.

  “Good,” the voice said. “You’re still alive.”

  “Your concern is touching,” Tyler said.

  “Do you think that explosion would have been big enough to sink the ferry? Be honest.”

  “Yes. What’s your point?”

  “So, Locke, if that’s what I was willing to do to a boat full of innocent people, imagine what I’m willing to do to your father.”

  TEN

  Tyler looked at Grant and saw the same flash of alarm on his face that he felt in his gut.

  “What does that mean?” Stacy said.

  “Now to your mission—” Orr continued.

  Tyler hung up. He had to warn his father, but the certainty in the caller’s voice made him fear that he was already too late.

  He found his dad’s number and called. The phone was answered on the second ring.

  “Dad, it’s Tyler—”

  “Nope,” Orr said. “I thought you’d be calling, so I had my colleagues forward his phone to mine.”

  Tyler gripped the phone so hard that he nearly crushed it. “If you hurt my father in any way, my mission will be to hunt you down and drain the life out of you one drop at a time.”

  “Yes, you’re upset, but I’m not going to harm him unless you decide not to help me. Or if you call the FBI.”

  “Do you have any idea who you’ve kidnapped?”

  “Of course I do, because I’m not a grade-A moron. Major General Sherman Locke is newly retired and looking for work, so he’s not going to be missed right away by anyone but you.”

  Tyler thought about that and knew he was right. If Sherman had still been in the Air Force, the Pentagon would have contacted the FBI within hours of his disappearance, not least because he was a military officer with access to top-secret information. But out of the military he was just another civilian who was free to do as he pleased. If he took off without telling anyone where he was going, that was his business.

  “How do I know he’s all right?” Tyler asked.

  “He’s unavailable to talk at the moment because he’s being taken to a secure location, but when he’s safe and sound, I’ll send you verification that he’s fine.”

  “What do you want?”

  “First, put the phone back on speaker. Stacy should hear this, too.”

  Tyler switched it on. “Go ahead.”

  “I did what you asked, you bastard!” Stacy yelled. “Now you hold up your end of the bargain!”

  “I’m not letting your sister go just yet,” Orr said.

  Tyler and Grant looked at each other in confusion, then at Stacy.

  “Sister?” Tyler said.

  “Good. Stacy followed her instructions and didn’t tell you about Carol. For that, Stacy’s sister will get to keep all her fingers.”

  “No! You let her go!”

  “Not so fast,” Orr said. “Now that you’ve passed your test, I ha
ve a mission for you.”

  “What mission?” Tyler asked.

  “I want you to find the location of the Midas Touch for me.”

  Tyler wasn’t sure what Orr meant. “Is that the code word for something?”

  “No code word. No metaphor. No brand name. I mean the actual Midas Touch that can turn objects to gold.”

  Grant snorted in disbelief. Tyler could only gape. That was about the last thing he would have guessed Orr was going to say. Tyler thought the kidnapping was going to be about paying a ransom or maybe even using his top-secret clearance to gain access to government files.

  But the Midas Touch? It was ridiculous. Everyone knew it was a myth about the corrupting power of greed. King Midas was given the wondrous ability to turn anything he touched into gold, which he initially thought was a blessing. But when his feast of celebration became inedible at his touch, Midas realized that this talent was a curse. He begged the gods to rid him of it, and they did, but not before he accidentally turned his own daughter into gold.

  “Say that again,” Tyler said.

  “You heard me right,” Orr said. “The Midas Touch. The two of you are going to find it, or your father and Stacy’s sister are dead. If you find it, I’ll make a trade with you.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly. I promise you that the Midas Touch does in fact exist.”

  “Okay,” Tyler said slowly. He was already wondering how he could give the impression of going along with this wild-goose chase while figuring out how to find his father.

  “I’ve seen it for myself, and I can prove it to you.”

  “If you’ve seen it, why do you need us to find it?”

  “That’s a story better told in person. Meet me at 1 p.m. outside the southwest corner of Safeco Field and I’ll tell it to you. Just you and Stacy. No police and no Westfield, or both your father and her sister are gone.”

  The Viper’s clock read 10:10. There had to be a ferry back to Seattle before noon.

  “We’ll be there,” Tyler said. He hung up and closed his eyes, trying to absorb the news of his father’s abduction. He concentrated on breathing, because it felt as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

  They were all quiet for a moment until Grant broke the silence.

  “By the way, I’m Grant Westfield,” he said. “I’ll be your chauffeur back to the ferry today.”

  He held his hand out to Stacy, who gave it a firm shake. “Stacy Benedict.”

  “Yeah, you’re from Chasing the Past. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

  “Thanks for picking us up.”

  “Anything for Tyler. But would you mind telling me why some lunatic just blew up a truck you were driving?”

  Tyler explained about the puzzle to deactivate the bomb, that it was some kind of test to prove to Orr that they could carry out his insane quest.

  “And how did he know my name?” Grant said. “Who is this guy?”

  “You met him once. His name is Jordan Orr.”

  “Wait a minute. The guy who hired you to build the geolabe?”

  Tyler nodded. “And I’m guessing Stacy knows him, too.”

  “Only since this morning,” she said. “I was in town for a fund-raiser, and I get a call that my sister, Carol, was kidnapped. All he told me was to get on the ferry and not to tell you about her or he would hurt her.”

  Tyler dug his fingernails into his palms until the knuckles were white. He’d never been angrier in his life than he was at that moment. If he had known about Stacy’s kidnapped sister, he might have been able to warn his father in time. Tyler wanted to yell and scream and pound his fists against the dashboard. But it was Orr he wanted to throttle, not Stacy. She was as much a pawn in this as he was.

  Tyler shook his head and took a deep breath until the moment passed.

  “It’s good we decided not to talk in the truck with Orr listening in,” he said to Stacy. “We’re going to have to be very careful dealing with him.”

  She turned to him, and Tyler saw her face etched with fear. “Just promise me that my sister will be all right. I know you can’t really promise that, but do it anyway.”

  Tyler nodded. “I promise. We’ll find a way to get them both back safely.”

  “There’s something I want to know,” Stacy said. “If you built that device, the geolabe, how did Orr get hold of it?”

  “I was approached by Orr last year, after Miles twisted my arm to go on your show. I mentioned on the program that I had an interest in Archimedes. Orr showed me a translation from an ancient Greek document with instructions for building an object called a geolabe and told me it was from a private collector. It sounded like an intriguing job, so I said yes.”

  “And you weren’t suspicious of this mysterious request?”

  Tyler nodded. “Mildly, but the project seemed harmless enough. I had one of my guys, Aiden MacKenna, look into the documents to see what he could find, just out of curiosity. Nothing came up. It wasn’t until a month after I delivered the completed project that Scotland Yard released a long-lost photo of a manuscript page that matched my document verbatim. Only then did we realize that it had been stolen.”

  “Did you report it to the police?”

  “Yes, but by that time Orr had been tipped off and disappeared.”

  “How long did it take you to build this thing?”

  “About three months,” Tyler said. “Without Gordian’s engineering resources, it would have taken a lot longer to decipher the schematics.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, though,” Stacy said.

  “Why?”

  “Because if he blew up the ferry, the geolabe would have been destroyed along with it. Why did he risk losing something that would take so long to build again if we couldn’t solve that puzzle?”

  Tyler’s skin prickled at the thought of how close they had been to becoming permanent denizens of Puget Sound.

  “Orr must have decided that you and I were the only people on the planet who could solve the Archimedes puzzle, so if we failed the geolabe was worthless to him. Now that he knows we can operate it, we’ve become indispensable to him. We’re a package deal along with the geolabe.”

  “This is crazy,” Stacy said.

  Tyler shook his head at the colossal understatement. “Which part? That Orr thinks the Midas Touch exists or that he thinks Archimedes constructed a device that will lead us to it?”

  ELEVEN

  The van slowed, but with the blindfold on, Sherman Locke couldn’t tell whether it was because they were approaching another turn or because they had reached their destination.

  They’d been traveling for over an hour, mostly at highway speeds, which meant they could be in DC, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, or West Virginia. After he was hit with the Taser, a cloth had been stuck in his mouth and his wrists and ankles were cuffed. He was thrown into the back of a panel van, with the fake hotel staffer driving and the phony Army officer in back with him. He was frisked thoroughly, and his car keys, wallet, and phone were taken.

  Before the blindfold went on, Sherman saw a girl lying unconscious on the floor of the van. There were no bruises or blood, which made him think she’d been drugged. He didn’t recognize her, so he couldn’t fathom why the two of them had been kidnapped. Blond and in her late twenties, the girl had a runner’s physique. That would be helpful when the time came to make an escape attempt.

  His gag had been removed for the drive, but Sherman hadn’t been able to get anything out of his stoic captor, whose sole response was to tell him to shut up or he’d put the cloth back in. But if he was trying to intimidate Sherman, he might as well piss up a flagpole.

  As a former fighter pilot, Sherman had taken the Air Force’s Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape course, but that SERE training had been decades ago. Now he wished he’d taken a refresher. Maybe he wouldn’t have been captured so easily. At this point, he was more annoyed than anything else.

  How he handled the situati
on would depend on why the two of them had been taken hostage. Was it just a chance to earn some quick cash? Maybe the woman was also involved with the Pentagon and the kidnappers wanted to torture information out of them. The well-executed operation suggested that these men weren’t a couple of hustlers who had hatched this scheme in their crack house. The fact that they had abducted Sherman in broad daylight, exposing their faces to hundreds of witnesses, meant they were either desperate or had a well-thought-out plan. Sherman guessed the latter.

  The van came to a stop. Sherman heard the clank of a garage door opening. It was industrial, too large and noisy for a residential garage.

  The van nudged forward and stopped, and the engine turned off. His kidnapper waited until the garage door was closed again before he removed the blindfold.

  The Taser was trained on him, the threat obvious. It was a dual-operation model that could either be loaded with a single-use cartridge that would shoot the electric leads thirty feet or be used without a cartridge by making direct contact with the subject. Since he was cuffed, the single-use cartridge had been removed.

  The van door opened, and the guy calling himself Wilson gestured with the Taser for Sherman to get out.

  Struggling against the cuffs, Sherman climbed to his feet and hopped through the door. The sound of his shoes hitting the floor echoed through a warehouse cavernous enough to hold twenty tractor-trailers. Fluorescent lights flickered above the windowless space. With the power active, it was unlikely they were squatters. The building looked as if it was in good repair and was probably in a warehouse district. If Sherman could make it outside, he might be able to find help quickly.

  The warehouse was empty of the expected shelves and boxes. Instead, a small grouping of furniture sat near the van: four cots, six large tables, four chairs, and a trash can that had been ignored. Empty pizza boxes and Chinese-food containers were piled on the tables, which held a TV, two laptops, and a wireless router. There was also some metal-working equipment: drills, soldering guns, an arc welder, and a large box of tools. Metal shavings and discarded scraps littered the floor.

  Beyond the furniture was a line of twelve steel barrels. Wooden crates were stacked behind them, but Sherman couldn’t see any writing that might reveal what they held. On one side of the warehouse, a peninsula of four rooms jutted from the cinder-block wall, with two doors facing the front of the warehouse and two facing the back. The doors had six-inch-by-six-inch cutouts where windows would normally be, but otherwise the rooms were completely sealed. Sherman could make out the remains of glass squares on the floor. The panes were the size of the cutouts and were cracked but intact because they were held together by wire mesh inside the glass, indicating that the rooms had been secured for valuable items. They’d been removed and replaced with crude metal plates that could be swung back and forth.