DEADLY RESCUE [042-066-4.9]

By JODIE LARSEN

Synopsis:

A geologist, still recovering from the death of her husband, sets out to
start a new career and a new life in California working for Rescue Inc.,
a company whose research into alternative energy sources matches her own
values. But she is unprepared for the ruthless tactics and strong
political lobby of a large oil company that will resort to sabotage and
even murder to retain high profits and market share!

A SIGNET BOOK

Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Putnam Inc.. 375 Hudson Street,
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Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

First published by Signet, an imprint of Dutton NAL,
a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.

First Printing, October 1998

10 987654321

Copyright Jodie Larsen Nida, 1998
All rights reserved

REGISTERED TRADEMARK--MARCA REGISTRATION

Printed in the United States of America

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of
this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without
the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above
publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO
PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM
MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN PUTNAM INC., 375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK,
NEW YORK 10014.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be
aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and
destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has
received any payment for this "stripped book."

For the best relatives
in the world: John & Vivian Gary, Vivian, Brooke & Hunter Dale, Nancy
the computer wizard.'), Jessica & Natalie and my loving family, Mark,
Amanda & Jon



Special thanks to John Heinsius, aka the
Rock Doctor, for his patience, expertise, ideas, and wealth of
geological information. This book came to life because of his
professional advice and guidance, and I'm truly grateful. Friends and
family are an essential ingredient in writing a novel. These are only a
few of the special people who inspire me while offering unconditional
support and encouragement: Joan, Randy & Courtney Rhine Dennis, Karen,
Garrett, Erin & Micah Larsen Pat & Larry Larsen Joy & Fred Ondracek
Julie & Ken Smith Chester & Debbie Cadieux Ben & Kathy Gorrell Pat
"Weird" Ward & Sherrie Dixon of Esq. Literary Productions
Prologue.

From the corner of his eye the killer glanced at the specially modified
briefcase, confident his unique weapon was secure. Lightning bolts, he
thought. Silent, powerful, and visible only for a few deadly seconds. If
they worked half as well on human flesh as he expected, the
painstakingly carved molds would almost certainly be used again.

Observing the pathetic tennis match on the court below, he played a
different game of his own for several minutes. As he gripped the sleek,
quiet weapon, his inner confidence grew. Recent advances in technology
had greatly changed the odds of success--in his favor, of course. With
starlight binoculars he could see in the dark as well as any raccoon.

The pocket-sized satellite-guidance system allowed him to maneuver
through the thickest forest on the blackest night of the year. Plus, the
laser scope precisely pinpointed any target, virtually assuring his aim
was not only accurate but lethal. Floodlights bathed the tennis courts
in a soft amber glow. For a few moments he switched his sights to the
other player, an equally impressive and influential senator who chose to
co-sponsor the wrong bill at the wrong time. The killer scoffed as he
watched the second target double-fault. Maybe you can practice in hell,
he thought. The longer he stayed, the more chance he had of being
exposed in the dense foliage, although he was certain the risk was
minimal in the dark. The hillside behind the exclusive tennis club had
been almost impossible to access, but the extra effort was paying off.

Pulling back his camouflage sleeve, he glanced at his watch. Sixteen
hours. Although he had waited patiently first for the sun to set, and
then for the targets to arrive, he was starting to get restless.

Cautiously shifting his weight, he bent stiff knees until they were near
his chest. Balancing the lightweight weapon atop them, he slowly,
gracefully reached for the starlight binoculars to scan the surrounding
area. When he was certain he was still alone, he slid the oversize
briefcase out from under a nearby shrub. It was heavy, leaving an
impression in the thick, lush grass that would spring back to normal
long before any FBI evidence team thought to look for clues there. Being
careful not to make a sound, he unlatched each side of the specially
designed case and lifted the top. The change of clothes was still sealed
inside, along with a bag to be used to incinerate the things he was
currently wearing. As a last precaution he checked each gloved hand,
making certain the cabretta leather fit perfectly over his slender
fingers. His right hand rested on the latch that would open the lower
section of the briefcase while he picked up the crossbow with his left
hand. Once again steadying the weapon on his knee, he flicked the red
dot on the first target's muscular neck for a millisecond. Waiting, he
knew both the tennis game and his own game would soon be over. In a
streak of fluorescent yellow, the tennis ball whizzed past the first
target. As the senator bent to catch his breath, the killer eased open
the lower section of the briefcase. White vapor curled sensuously around
his gloved hand, the slight evening breeze swirling it toward him. Even
through his clothes the frigid fog wrapped around his legs, sending
shivers of excitement to his bones. With one eye still trailing the
target through the scope, his fingers closed around the first bolt.

Slowly he lifted it, then slid it effortlessly into the crossbow.

Squeezing the button on the grip, he watched the red dot appear on the
senator's sweaty neck muscle. Putting steady pressure on the trigger, he
felt the weapon flinch. Every nerve in his body sang as the bolt struck
home. There was no time to enjoy the spectacular sight, although he
inwardly smiled when he realized the slick bolt had pierced both the
man's jugular and windpipe before it shattered into a million pieces on
the court. With the same calm movement he trained the red dot on the
other senator, who was now running to help his friend. After sliding a
second bolt into the crossbow, he squeezed the trigger again. The bolt
flew as straight as the first, cutting through layers of flesh and
muscle before it, too, shattered. The second man slumped lifelessly on
top of the first, his racket clattering as it hit the ground.

Bloodstained fragments of the icy bolt melted on the warm court, leaving
behind only harmless, untraceable drops of water. The killer could
barely hear the last gurgling gasps of his two victims as he packed his
gear into his backpack and began the hike to freedom. Resisting the urge
to study the scene below, he pulled the small guidance system from his
pocket. With the help of his starlight binoculars and years of training,
he navigated easily through the darkness. By the time sirens wailed in
the distance, he had already changed clothes. He slid the briefcase and
backpack under the false floor in the trunk of his car, then eased into
the driver's seat. First one ambulance, then another passed him as he
casually drove away. Hearses would be much more appropriate, he thought
as the beginning of a smile creased his weary face. Thirty minutes
later, after his clothes had been incinerated, he found a pay phone. "Is
the line secure?" he asked. "Yes."

"The job went perfectly. Fluidly, you might say."

"Congratulations."

"We make a good team. Our goal is getting closer."

"I'm sure we'll be there soon." He smiled, rubbing burning eyes. "I'm
counting on it."

"I still want to participate  ... someday."

"Too dangerous. You're needed where you are." He hung up and sighed, his
shoulders, arms, and legs aching from extreme fatigue. As he headed to
the airport, he knew he was breaking one of his own stringent rules on
this job, but he had too much time and energy devoted to the crossbow to
destroy it like every other weapon he had used to further his cause.
Unlike a simple gun, or knife, the crossbow was sheer brilliance.
Thinking of its clean, sharp power made him smile, a smile that widened
as he imagined using it over and over again.


Chapter 1.


Rae Majors slid the keys out of the rental car's ignition and took a
long, deep breath. Glancing at her watch, she knew she had arrived for
the most important interview of her life right on time. At least she
would be, if she could find the courage to go inside. RESCUE, Inc.'s
impressive glass building loomed before her, sparkling in the morning
sun. What am I doing here? she wondered. I'm over a thousand miles from
home, a thousand miles from my family, from him. What was I thinking ?

"Moving on," she said to the troubled brown eyes staring back at her in
the rearview mirror. "Ken is gone. It's time to make another life, find
new friends, in a new place." Closing her fingers around the handle of
the leather briefcase her grandparents had given her for graduation, she
felt her confidence climb. Her family believed in her. Her professors
believed in her. It was time to believe in herself. Her steps came
slowly at first, then a little more quickly. Within a few seconds she
found herself striding eagerly inside, only to stop as soon as she
entered the building's striking foyer. For a moment she couldn't believe
her eyes or ears. The cloak of self-doubt instantly fell away as her
nervous energy was replaced by pure fascination. Rae was sure she'd
somehow stumbled into Eden, or at least a man-made version of it. Easing
the sunglasses slowly from her eyes, she stared at the huge open area.

Tropical plants, some of them several stories high, swayed in a slight
breeze. A waterfall fell from the third floor, crashing into a pool that
covered half the floor. The pool had no sides; the marble floor merely
sloped gradually down to where small waves lapped gently at its edge.
Fish moved steadily under the shimmering surface of the water, dodging
lily pads as they zigzagged along. Rae began to stir, her attention
drawn to the walls. She was about to reach out and touch the rough
surface when she heard her name called from nearby. "Rae Majors?"
Whirling around, she almost lost her balance as she nervously snapped,
"Yes. I'm Rae Majors." Bounding toward her was a tall, lanky man wearing
a save the earth T-shirt, khaki slacks, and tennis shoes. His
sun-streaked brown hair was shoulder length in back and feathered neatly
away from his ruggedly handsome face. Slightly dazed by the intensity of
his green eyes, she simply stood, awkwardly waiting. Extending a
muscular arm, he smiled. "Good morning and welcome to RESCUE. I'm Ashe
Freeman. Nathan Green- wall asked me to meet with you first. He'll be
ready for your interview in about an hour. I see you're admiring our
Natureair system. It's one of rescue's many promising products."

"This is one of your products?" she asked, all the while hoping she
hadn't shaken his hand too firmly or, even worse, not firmly enough.
Flashing an even brighter smile, he replied, "It's one of my favorites.
A little expensive, though, but we're working on cutting the cost of the
materials without losing any of the system's integrity." Crossing behind
her, he laid his hand against the wall. "For instance, this surface you
were studying. It's a man-made, extremely porous, lightweight rock. The
air from the entire building is sucked through this room via the holes
in this material." Pushing her shoulder-length brown hair way from her
face, Rae touched the uncommon surface. "Is that what creates the
breeze?" He nodded. "You may have noticed solar panels running up all
four sides of our building. They power this system, as well as a few
other key maintenance needs. This is actually a self-sustaining
ecosystem."

"Maintenance free?"

"Well, almost. The plants have to be trimmed every once and a while, but
the moss, fish, algae, and constant circulation keep the water clean and
oxygenated. The insects handle pollination and serve as food for the
other inhabitants, just as they do in the wild. Nature is very good at
cleansing itself if people don't interfere." "It's beautiful," she said.
"Thanks. But I'll bet what you're really wondering is, Why would any
company spend so much money just to have fresh air? Why not open a few
windows or install a couple of electrostatic filters?" Rae tensed,
certain she was being tested.

Since she desperately wanted to make a good impression, she thought for
a couple of seconds, then timidly replied, "I'm sure a corporation would
have fewer employee absences from allergies and illnesses if the air
supply was pure. Stress reduction alone would probably result in greater
productivity. Fewer headaches, happier people. It's an intriguing
concept."

"My thoughts exactly. Why don't we go up to my office and I can fill you
in on the requirements of the job?" He gestured to his own casual
clothing and added, "As you can see, we're not a very formal
organization. Nathan believes comfortable employees will focus more
energy on creativity than their stiff-necked, high-heeled counterparts."
With an open glance down her slender legs to her three- inch heels, he
grinned. "No offense."

"None taken."

"Stairs okay with you?" Rae nodded as she rushed to keep up with him. "I
can't wait to meet Mr. Greenwall.

He sounds wonderful, and he was very encouraging when he called to ask
me to come interview. To tell you the truth, this is the first time I've
had on high heels since  ..." Ashe seemed like he was ready to break
into a run but was holding back for Rae's sake. He lightheartedly
encouraged her by saying, "Since  ...  ?"

"A funeral. Since my husband's funeral." His pace slowed, and his
expression darkened. "Oh, I didn't know. I'm sorry. I ..."

"It's all right." She smiled warmly. "Really.

It's been years." She took a deep breath, adding, "Since then I've lived
and breathed geology. Did Mr. Greenwall give you a copy of my resume?"

"No. He just told me you recently graduated and that your background was
perfect for RESCUE. Care to fill me in on the details?" They were
mounting the third flight of stairs as she answered, "I'll be honest
with you. Other than the college requirements, my field experience is
nonexistent at this point. I worked for ten years as an accountant. My
husband ran a small printing and copying store. I always dreamed of
being a geologist, and we lived near the Sarkeys Energy Center at the
University of Oklahoma. I started going to night school about six years
ago. My husband always supported my decision to change professions, so
when I suddenly found myself alone, I sold his business and made school
my only priority." Ashe quietly asked, "Was it an accident?" Rae's brown
eyes hazed with emotion. "No." Her breath caught as she started to add
an explanation, then abruptly stopped. Filling the awkward silence, Ashe
quickly said, "It sounds as though keeping busy in school was a healthy
thing to do after his death." She nodded, composure already returning to
her voice. "Studying helped me survive."

"I'm sure it did." With a smile and an upward glance, Rae added, "Since
the day I lost him, I've always felt he was up there watching me,
pushing me to build a new life. He would have wanted me to go on, to
make the world a little better."

"Then you're in the right place. How long have you been in the job
market?"

"I graduated last month, and have been looking ever since, I want to be
busy. I need to work. I'm sure you know how tight the field of geology
is right now--especially for thirty-eight-year-old women." If her age or
background shocked Ashe, it didn't show. Instead he said, "Your grades
must have been impressive to get Nathan's attention. He's known for
being very selective."

"I don't think my grades had anything to do with Mr. Greenwall
contacting me."

"Really? You didn't send in a response to one of our newspaper ads?"

"No. Apparently, he read an article I wrote for Transforming Today for
Tomorrow. He called to tell me how much he enjoyed it, and the next day
a round-trip ticket plus an invitation to interview for a position with
RESCUE came by Fedex. To tell you the truth, I'm still rather stunned by
the whole thing." They reached the fifth floor and headed down a hall.
"Must have been a hell of an article. What was it about?"

"Underutilization of Hot Dry Rock energy due to lack of technological
drilling advancements in the last two decades. Everyone else is certain
that a combination of solar and wind energy is the path for the future.
I'm afraid I'm one of the only people in the world who believes
geothermal energy can be economically mass produced."

"You mean it isn't already?" Ashe sarcastically asked. She smiled. "Only
a few of us are crazy enough to chase dreams. That's why I chose
geology. I thought it was a field where I could find ways to make
positive changes. If there's one thing I've learned from the last few
years, it's that I want my life to make a difference." They turned into
a striking hallway. Its blue-grey walls were lined with exquisite
portraits of nature--luscious green fields and crystal-clear mountain
lakes. Rae was admiring their beauty until she turned her head to the
other side of the hall. Along that wall were equally large portraits,
but these were of mankind's worst ecological blunders--oil-soaked birds,
a river where bloated fish drifted atop thick brown scum, a beach
covered with medical waste. Ashe gently touched her shoulder. "I'm
sorry. Those are to remind us why we're here." Moving to the other side
of her, he effectively blocked her view as they walked along. Turning
away from the wall of horror, she quietly asked, "So, what does RESCUE
stand for? I went to the library, but couldn't managed to dig up much on
the company. I found a picture of Mr. Greenwall. He's relatively young
to be head of such a large company, isn't he?"

"Late thirties. We old guys kid him all the time."

"You don't look like you're exactly ancient yourself." He smiled.
"Depends on your definition of ancient. I just passed forty-two. I'm a
dinosaur compared to most of our employees." Her hand automatically went
to her temple, where the first few strands of gray were rapidly taking
hold. "I guess that would make me prehistoric, too."

"Ah, yes, but you're a very well-preserved specimen." It had been years
since anyone had complimented Rae on her appearance, and she was
surprised to feel color rush to her cheeks. "I noticed that RESCUE was
mentioned in several transcripts of congressional hearings."

"We do tend to voice our opinions, but at the same time we maintain a
relatively low profile. We're actually a conservative organization with
progressive goals. You probably didn't find much on RESCUE because it's
a privately held corporation. Nathan founded it eight years ago and
still owns controlling stock. Loyal employees hold the rest of the
stock, so what we do here is kept relatively confidential. "RESCUE
stands for Renewable Energy Sources for the Conservation and Unity of
Earth." Ashe instantly held up his hands. "I know, I know. It's a little
pretentious, but everything Nathan is involved with shows his passion
for the environment." They had reached the far end of the hall.
Motioning for her to enter his office, he asked, "Would you like
something to drink?"

"Let me guess. Bottled water?"

"Better. We purify our own. Plus, we use it to make natural lemonade and
a variety of organically grown herbal teas. I should warn you, though,
our Pure Nourishment division uses the rest of the company as guinea
pigs. If you have a weak stomach, you'd better ask what something is
before you eat it."

"Thanks for the advice.

How many divisions are there?"

"Let's see. Pure Nourishment develops organic foods. Research &
Development scopes out the scientific community, trying to catch ideas
before they can be buried. We call them the ZT's." Rae almost laughed as
she pictured a bunch of nerdy scientists. "ZT's?" she asked. "Zero
tolerance. They've got a reputation for being a little on the radical
side. The head of the department, Brada Stevens, grew up with Nathan.
She's brilliant. Brutal, too." With raised eyebrows Rae asked, "Brutal
and radical, as in Greenpeace-style chain-yourself-to-a-tree tactics?"

"No. Radical as in fanatically zealous at times. Once she gets on an
idea, she holds on like a mad pit bull. About a week ago she discovered
some payments were made by certain individuals in the petroleum industry
to buy a graduate student's silence on a revolutionary type of drilling
technology. It supposedly would've greatly increased the depth of
conventional technology while actually reducing costs. Brada and her
crew have been ranting and raving for days about that one."

"Why would the oil companies want to keep new technology quiet? It
sounds like something they'd love to exploit."

"In this case the new technology would make their fleet of drilling rigs
obsolete practically overnight. But mainly they handle things quietly
for publicity reasons. For instance, if the public knew the technology
existed to build inexpensive, solar-powered cars right now, what do you
think they'd do?" Rae was wide-eyed. "Does it exist?"

"Probably, but you didn't answer my question."

"They'd be outraged. If there's an economical way to provide
transportation that doesn't pollute, political pressure would force
Congress to enact laws requiring conversion, especially in cities on the
EPA's dirty-air list"

"So, if you were the head of an oil and gas firm, and you happened to
own a substantial amount of stock in a major automobile manufacturer,
would you want to run out and buy the patent on an invention that could
cost your industry billions?" Rae nodded. "I suppose I would if it gave
me control of the product."

"But there would be public record of your purchase.

Conservationists would spread the word that you're hindering progress so
you can exploit every drop of oil the world has."

"So I'd find a way to accomplish the same thing without public records.
Very clever. But what can RESCUE do about it? The invention belongs to
the inventor. They can legally sell the information any way they like.
Right?"

"Yes. All we can do is watch. If we get a chance, we try to convince
them to do what's right, instead of what's profitable, but it rarely
works. That's one of the facts of life in this business. We're just
little fishes trying to mind our own business in an ocean filled with
piranha. None of us can change the world's dependence on oil overnight,
and we're not trying to.

Changes take time. We mainly want to make sure that when the time is
right, there are viable options. Of course, the sooner the better." Rae
slid into a chair Ashe extended for her. "The petroleum industry isn't
that bad, is it?" Ashe grimaced. "It's nice to be interviewing someone
who isn't twenty-one years old and ready to conquer the world. We've
both been around long enough to know we're surrounded by good and bad in
every part of our lives. Unfortunately, a handful of major oil companies
carry substantial weight in D.C.--and worldwide, for that matter. Think
of all the countries whose economies would collapse if suddenly
petroleum products were even significantly reduced, much less
eliminated. As a matter of fact, that's why Nathan is running late
today. He's in a meeting with two oilmen who flew in yesterday from
Midland, Texas."

"Would it be too inquisitive to ask what they're meeting about?" Ashe
shook his head and shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I'm not sure. I've
been out of the office for weeks. It may have to do with the
drilling-equipment problems we've been having."

"Problems?"

"The equipment keeps mysteriously breaking down. I just came back from a
month in the field, and I have to admit, it's absolutely maddening."
Ashe took a deep breath and raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, I digress. I
never told you about the last division at RESCUE, Solar and Wind Energy.
It's a good thing they're lumped together. Each group thinks it has the
only viable long-term energy solution for the planet.

Teaming them up was one of Nathan's smartest moves."

"And which division is the job I'm interviewing for in?" Ashe spread his
arms.

"Mine, of course. rescue's redheaded stepchild--Geothermal Exploitation.

Luckily, Nathan believes the world is overlooking the potential of Hot
Dry Rock, which we call HER. We think it has the long- term potential to
supplant almost every other kind of energy. The biggest problem is all
too obvious. In most parts of the world, drilling costs today make it
uneconomical. But the Earth's heat is, practically speaking, unlimited.

Our job is simply to tap it in a way that's less expensive." Rae smiled.
"You make it sound easy enough."

"How did you develop an interest in HER technology?" Her eyes sparkled
in anticipation. "When I was a kid, my parents took me to Yellowstone. I
sat and watched the bubbling mud pits for hours, wondering why the heat
never ended, even in the dead of winter. My husband and I spent our
honeymoon there. I guess that's why I've always wanted to be a
geologist. It's something I love, and it makes me feel close to him."

"Geology does get in your blood." With a broad smile Rae nodded
excitedly. "When I was a junior in college, I read a report by the
Geothermal Resources Commission. I was intrigued that there was such a
readily available, inexhaustible source of energy that was being ignored
by both the government and industry." Ashe nodded. "The tough part is
getting at it. I'm sure you know that, in principle, it's as simple as
drilling deep holes and installing the necessary plumbing to pump water
through the hot bedrock and return it, heated, to the surface, where the
steam generates energy." Rae was eager, brimming with enthusiasm. "I
studied the results of the New Mexico test site, as well as the plants
run by steam-filled reservoirs north of San Francisco. It was
fascinating. Imagine, power plants with the capability to produce
electricity at competitive prices, around the clock, with no harmful
emissions or pollution whatsoever." Ashe leaned back in his chair and
smiled as he listened to Rae, excited in more ways than one. As she
spoke, he studied her delicate, high cheekbones and watched her brown
eyes glow with anticipation. He couldn't remember ever meeting a woman
who made him feel so unsettled, so quickly. There was something about
her, something that made him hunger for things he had long ago decided
weren't meant to be. Maybe it was because she seemed so perfect for
RESCUE, or maybe it was some crazy instinct making him want to protect
her, to keep her from getting hurt again. But one thing he knew for
certain--the chemistry between them was making it practically impossible
for him to concentrate. Looking away, he mentally scolded himself. Stop
it! I'll end up getting sued for sexual harassment if I'm not careful!
This is work. She's here to find a job, and she deserves my respect.
Brada Stevens suddenly stuck her head in Ashes office. When she saw he
wasn't alone, she quickly remarked. "Excuse me, I didn't realize you
were in a meeting." Welcoming the distraction, Ashe replied, "It's all
right. Rae Majors, this is Brada Stevens. She's head of R and D."

"Nice to meet you," Rae said, quickly noting the worn- an's unmistakable
air of authority in spite of her lack of makeup and her very casual
clothing. Ashe asked, "What brings you way over to Geothermal?" Brada
practically ran to the far corner of Ashes office to turn on a small
television to CNN. "This is why I came. You aren't going to believe it."
The screen flickered to life, showing a brunette holding one hand to her
ear as her other hand tightly gripped a microphone. A fierce wind
whipped the reporter's bobbed hair around her face as she stoically
said, "This is Cindy Bear reporting live for CNN from Washington, D.C.
I'm here at the scene of last night's double murder of Senator Ross
Evans and Senator Peter Giles. The two were brutally struck down by a
sniper, whom the FBI now believe was hiding on this hill, which is
directly behind the main bank of tennis courts." The camera zoomed in on
a hillside covered with men in. a variety of law enforcement uniforms.
"Senators Evans and Giles recently gained national attention as the
Republican co-sponsors of the controversial Evans-Giles budget-reduction
bill, which pertains to government support of alternative-energy
sources. If passed in its present form, the bill would result in
significant reduction of government funding and tax credits for research
and development of both solar and wind energy, as well as total
elimination of all government-supported geothermal energy-source
programs." She hesitated for a second, nodding slightly as she said,
"I've just been informed that we have footage of a statement made only
yesterday by Senator Giles regarding the bill." As the tape rolled.
Senator Giles was seated in his office. His weathered face and lack
hair made him look older than his fifty-two years. In a deep, husky
voice he declared, "Our current economic crisis is exactly that--a
crisis. Funding any program that's not absolutely necessary at this
point is not prudent. I truly believe that in our free- enterprise
system, alternative-energy sources will be explored by the private
sector with or without government backing. Demand for a product will
bring about its production, as it has done for centuries, and I am
confident American ingenuity will rise to the occasion." The tape ended,
and the reporter's grim face appeared once again. Ashe walked over to
switch off the television. As the screen faded to black, he slumped into
his chair and muttered, "What is this world coming to?"


Chapter 2.


"Damn it! Don't you ever listen?" Although Chuck Kel- mar had barely
raised his voice, growing red blotches on his cheeks betrayed his
underlying frustration. "We didn't come here to rehash who's right.

We came here to negotiate the sale of a drilling rig."

"Why would we want to buy something that's constantly broken?" Nathan
Greenwall turned away from the window to glare at Kelmar. "I've been
sitting here, patiently listening for almost two hours. So far all I've
heard from the two of you is more of the same old crap about
conventional drilling rigs being inadequate for our needs. That the
geothermal gradients we're trying to reach require deeper penetration
depths than the equipment can handle. The old technology is exactly
that--old. We know you have the Triplate designs. Why do you keep
denying it?"

"Triplate technology is fiction, Greenwall. Your R and D boys bought
into some crazy college kid's story."

"That kid was a twenty-four-year-old graduate student named Marilyn
Prosser, who had an unfortunate car accident the day she secretly met
with one of my 'boys," as you call them. She's still in a coma. Quite a
coincidence, don't you think? And by the way, the head of RESCUE R and D
is Brada Stevens. And she's not the type to jump to conclusions without
all the facts."

"Then she should stop pointing fingers at innocent people," Karl Ross
snapped. He and his colleague
Chuck Kel- mar, shared many traits. Even though both men were barely
forty years old, they had already scaled one of the tallest corporate
ladders in the United States. As senior vice president of Petroco, a
huge conglomerate with offices worldwide, Kelmar was well-known for his
cutthroat tactics.. Ross was a vice president, the man personally
responsible for handling the millions of dollars Petroco spent lobbying
on behalf of the petroleum industry every year. Nathan glared at Kelmar
for a few seconds, sensing that he was toying with him, blatantly
playing the game for all it was worth. Finally, he held up his hands,
unwilling to stoop to their level any longer. With a steady voice he
stated, "Let's get back to the reason I asked for this meeting. The rig
we're leasing from you for our geothermal test site in western Oklahoma
is still not functioning adequately. Out of the last twenty drilling
days, the equipment has failed thirteen times. That's why we haven't
forwarded our latest lease payment. Your own service people don't have
either a reason for the repeated failures, or a way to fix the equipment
once and for all." Kelmar jumped up. "We're doing the best we can to
help your site technicians. Our field people say the most likely cause
is, well, to be blunt, a lack of experience on the part of your
employees. That's what's generating the equipment problems. Nothing
else." Nathan turned slowly, then suddenly slammed his fist onto his
desk. "Bullshit!" he roared. "At least half the RESCUE team was hired
from the petroleum industry specifically to prevent such accusations.

They've drilled countless oil and gas wells. It's the same equipment,
the same hole being punched in the ground. The only difference is that
our goal isn't to exploit a rapidly disappearing natural resource."
Kelmar rolled his eyes. "You just intend to exploit the world in a
different way. Have you ever thought about that? Who are you to say that
pumping huge amounts of water into a deep hole won't cause changes in
the earth's crust that can't be predicted? Some of our corporate
scientists think the lack of studies on potentially harmful seismic
activity should be enough to keep you from testing your theories, much
less marketing them. What are you going to do when your precious
plant ends up demolishing a major city by triggering a quake that'll go
off the Richter scale?"

"That's absurd. There have been plenty of studies, and none of them show
anything harmful. Besides, the need to eliminate the problems caused by
burning fossil fuels far outweighs the slight risks involved. Let's get
back to the point. What is Petroco going to do about the problems with
the drilling rig?" The two men exchanged a knowing glance as Kelmar
apathetically replied, "We're doing all we can." Nathan's eyes narrowed.
"Our crew thinks there's some kind of sabotage going on. They feel
damned lucky no one has been hurt ... yet." Ross impatiently shook his
head. "It's Petroco equipment, Greenwall. Why would we do anything to
**skip**hurt our own assets?"

"To drag out the lease time. To make sure our geothermal test well is a
financial disaster." But mostly because you're a bunch of goddamned
pricks who care only about lining your pockets with money! he wanted to
scream.

Kelmar paced as he launched into the same speech Nathan had heard
countless times before. "You environmentalists are all alike. You make
the oil industry into some horrible monster that's solely responsible
for all the world's problems. It's our fault there's a hole in the ozone
layer, you claim. You conveniently forget that Petroco is also a leader
in medical-product research. Our subsidiary is responsible for
developing the synthetic material that surgeons use to reattach severed
limbs, the artificial arteries used in transplants--"

"Save your breath, I've seen the commercials," Nathan interrupted. Ross
fervently joined in. "What about all the other petroleum products that
make people's lives better every day? People like you were probably
behind the assassinations of Senators Evans and Giles last night," he
sneered.

"Wouldn't want to lose your federal funding, now would you?" The color
drained from Nathan's face. "Evans and Giles are dead?" he asked. "As a
hammer. Drowned in their own blood. A sniper took them out during their
weekly tennis game. Probably some environmental nut at work again."
Nathan slumped into his chair. "I--I hadn't heard." Ross still didn't
let up. "Oh, come on. You don't expect us to believe you give a crap
about either of those two. They were like a boil on your ass. Besides,
liberals everywhere are overjoyed. Without its sponsors the Evans-Giles
budget- reduction bill doesn't have a prayer." Nathan never raised his
eyes as he shook his head and muttered, "On the contrary, now it will
almost certainly pass." In the executive reception area, the person
listening smiled. So far everything was going exactly as planned. It
wouldn't be long before Nathan's world started to fall apart, not long
at all. Even though Ashe acted as if he had nothing better to do than
escort Rae on a tour of RESCUE, she felt guilty for monopolizing so much
of his day. Rae was certain she'd never be able to remember all the
people he'd introduced her to, but she wouldn't forget the genuine
spirit of purpose they all seemed to share. She'd seen that type of
unity only once before, among the rescue workers who finally recovered
her husband's body. Ashe walked her through the entire building,
stopping in each division to show off their latest technological
advances. Along the way, he expertly covered rescue's short- and
long-term goals, then treated her to an early lunch. Although she should
have felt at ease when he dropped her off at the door to Nathan
Greenwall's office, her nervous sense of urgency crept back. The nagging
voice inside her head reminded her how many years of unending work had
led her to this point, years that would be wasted if she missed this
opportunity. Nathan's secretary, Dinell Blanchard, was a pretty woman in
her fifties with chin-length chestnut hair and penetrating dark eyes.

She politely welcomed Rae, then ushered her into the executive suite,
after Nathan and Ashe quickly exchanged a few words. After all the
impressive things she'd seen that morning, Nathan's office shouldn't
have been a shock, yet it was. It was glass. The walls were glass, the
huge desk was glass, even the base of the sofa and chairs were glass,
with fluffy cushions scattered on top. She wondered how he ever had any
privacy until he casually pushed a button on the corner of his desk. The
previously clear walls magically became opaque, making the office quite
private. "I love to watch people's faces when I do that," he said,
waving his hand toward the now creamy gray glass walls surrounding them.

"It's done with liquid crystals. I apologize again for not being able to
meet you sooner. Please have a seat and tell me how your day has been."
Rae took a deep breath to settle her nerves, then spent the next fifty
minutes discussing business with Nathan. He was a tall, muscular man
whose sharp blue-green eyes revealed his passion for RESCUE as he
described its goals. Although he seemed relaxed, she sensed he was
troubled as he spoke. Watching his index finger continually circling the
equator of a crystal paperweight of the Earth, she couldn't help but
wonder if he was even listening to her. Instead she had the feeling he
was contemplating something much more serious. By the time he stood to
extend his hand, Rae was certain he would rather hire a trained monkey
than her. Gripping his hand firmly, she pushed down the urge to flee
from another certain rejection. With a steady voice she said, "I'm so
glad you contacted me. You should be very proud of the wonderful
organization you've built."

"Thank you. I'm confident that Hot Dry Rock technology will change the
way we live. HER is efficient all day and all night, whether the wind is
blowing fiercely or the day is calm. Whether it's rained for a week or
the skies are clear."

"From what I've seen, your company can make it happen."

"Did you know that the economic feasibility of any project comes down to
three things?" She shook her head. "RESCUE has plenty of the
first--willpower. The second, political cooperation, can be influenced
by the last thing it takes--cold, hard cash. We will develop the world's
first commercial 'heat mine," and I hope you'll be on our team when it
happens." Rae drew in a ragged breath, totally shocked. Feeling like she
was about to jump off a cliff without looking first, she quietly said,
"I think I'd like to be." At the door she stopped. Shaking his hand
again, she determinedly said, "No, Mr. Greenwall, I know I want to be."

"Fantastic!" After spending a few minutes going over details, they said
good-bye. Walking down the hall, Rae appeared to be calm and collected.
There was no one around as she bounded cheerfully downstairs with a
broad smile lighting her face.

Every detail came alive as she zealously viewed her new world.

Anticipation fueled a strength deep within, filling her with something
she hadn't had in years--hope for tomorrow. "Sorry I didn't get back to
you sooner, I've been tied up in meetings all morning. The murders of
Evans and Giles have really thrown our whole office into a spin. They
were both clients." Nathan recognized Sherrie Rosen's energetic voice
immediately. She was not only his lawyer, but one of his best friends
from the East Coast. In fact, he had hoped they would become more than
just friends for years. Leaning back, he relaxed and said, "Believe me,
Sherrie, I understand. It was quite a shock to us, too."

"I'm sure it was." "Is it your case?" he asked. "I did the estate
planning for both of them, so, yes, my caseload has just mushroomed. I
suppose working sixty hours a week will seem like a vacation after this
is all cleaned up."

"I guess that means if I'm in town anytime soon, you won't even let me
buy you dinner." Sherrie laughed. "You can buy me dinner anytime, as
long as it isn't anything made with tofu. One tofu souffle was enough to
last me a lifetime."

"I promise. It can moo when you stick your fork in it for all I care."
Nathan hesitated, then added, "Listen, I called as soon as I found out
about the murders. I need some advice."

"I thought that was probably why you called. You haven't telephoned
about your mother's estate--or anything else, for that matter--in ages."
He laughed. "Maybe you've rejected my proposals so often, I finally gave
up. Seriously, Sherrie, we both know my mother's money will only go so
far. Pretty soon RESCUE will have to stand on its own. So give me your
best, New York City lawyer opinion on what the senators' deaths will
mean for the future of the Evans-Giles bill."

"Remember, I'm an estate expert, not a political specialist. But when I
got your message, I ran a few what-if's by a couple of our partners who
keep, let's call it 'active," in those circles. They were initially
surprised by your take of the situation, that the senators' untimely
deaths might actually improve the bill's chance of passing."
"Not necessarily. They both seem to
think the sympathy vote will carry only so far. Time may be on your side
as well. The Senate adjourned until after the funerals, which have been
scheduled for Friday. That means by the time the issue comes up again,
almost a week will have passed. We all know how short a memory
politicians have. I know, tacky. Very tacky. But what do you expect from
a New York attorney?" Nathan laughed. "Do you think I should send some
people to D.C. to sway as many votes as we can?"

"Couldn't hurt, but there probably won't be a vote for a while. By the
way, how is your latest project going? It's called HER, isn't it?"

"Yes, and it isn't going very well. The bastards at Petro- Co are making
sure we run into every problem in the book with the rig we're leasing
from them."

"Then why don't you lease a rig from a company you trust?"

"Petroco is the only one in this part of the world who has the type rig
we need. Otherwise, I'd never even consider doing business with them."

"You don't think they're actually undermining rescue's drilling, do
you?"

"Unfortunately, I do. I just don't know how to prove it." Nathan
hesitated, worrying again that his grand plans for RESCUE might not work
after all. Finally he said, "Listen, Sherrie, I think I'll come to D.C.
myself, so you're on the hook for that dinner. Stopping the Evans-Giles
bill is too important to risk failure; plus I'd really like to have a
chance to discuss some of our problems with you. You've always been my
favorite sounding board."

"I can't wait. See you soon." Softly cradling the phone, Nathan stared
blankly ahead. One way or another, RESCUE will survive! If it takes
stooping to Petroco's level, then fine. Two can play at that game, and
I'll be damned if I'm going to lose! Aboard the Petroco private jet
enroute to Midland, Kel- mar and Ross were thoroughly enjoying
themselves as they discussed their brief trip. Both men stood and
stretched as Ross asked, "Is our man on top of that college girl?"
Kelmar grinned at the sexual innuendo. "You know he's a perfectionist.
The first attempt to take her out may have failed, but he never gives
up. Never."

"What about the professor?" Kelmar answered, "Not a problem. He's been
loyal for years."

"Are you sure? I still think he seemed pretty shaken by the car wreck."

"He can only suspect. If anything, this would make him even more loyal
by pointing out how expendable any one person really is. Besides, we
need him. He's come up with several brilliant students in the last few
years. This just happens to be the first one who couldn't keep her mouth
shut." Sitting back down, he sighed. "rescue's really beginning to be a
major pain in the ass, isn't it?" Kelmar laughed, his deep voice filling
the small plane's cabin. "But not for long. The wheels are already in
motion to end our problems with RESCUE once and for all."

"How'd it go with the Petroco gentlemen?" Ashe asked lightly. Nathan
scoffed. "As well as can be expected. I'm always amazed at how well
Kelmar and Ross can slither around obligations, and I'm not talking
about just the legal variety."

"Moral, ethical, environmental--they seem to be immune to them all."
Nathan turned toward the window and sighed. His voice was harsh as he
said, "Someday soon they'll get what they deserve."

"Wishful thinking?" Ashe joked. Nathan shrugged, but his face was dead
serious as he replied, "Maybe not. By the way, I'll be going to D.C. to
see if I can influence a few people on the Evansgiles vote."

"How soon?"

"Depends on when it gets back on the calendar. Sherrie Rosen seemed to
think it might be awhile."

"I'd still like to meet her someday. She must be quite a woman to keep
you off the market from a couple thousand miles away."

"Maybe you should go to New York with me. What are your plans for the
next few weeks?"

"That depends on how your interview with Rae Majors turned out."

"I took your advice. Hired her on the spot. She's officially starting on
Monday, but she said if you need her any sooner to call." Ashe paced
back and forth, his nervous energy apparent as he replied, "I may have
her meet me at the HER site in Oklahoma day after tomorrow. I'll have
Dinell rent her a furnished place here, so when we get finished at the
site she won't have to worry about moving her things to California for a
few weeks. We might as well break her in right."

"Sounds good. Send her an advance, Ashe. Her background check showed
she's running on a pretty tight budget. We'll cover her moving expenses,
but she still might need some cash up front."

"Did you know she's a widow?" Ashe asked, realizing for the first time
that widow was actually a rather disgusting word. Nathan nodded. "She
keeps it quiet, but it turned up in the background check. Rae seems
pretty tough, though. Her professors said she was quiet but extremely
diligent. How do you think she'll handle the field problems we've been
having?"

"I don't think you could've found a better fit. Since she doesn't have
much field experience, maybe she won't be as frustrated as the rest of
the crew.

Besides, she'll just be observing for a little while. Maybe by the time
we get back down to serious business, our streak of bad luck will be
over." Nathan laughed. "Getting tired of baby-sitting?" Ashe walked over
and grabbed a handful of carob-coated macadamia nuts from the corner of
Nathan's desk. "Don't get me wrong. Our crew is the best. It's just I'm
sick of the mood swings. One minute they're so enthusiastic you can't
hold them back, and the next minute they act like the world is going to
end because of some minor setback. Plus lately their imaginations are
getting the best of them with all this talk about sabotage. A little
levelheaded maturity would be a welcome change."

"Let's hope so. Are you still taking Brada with you to the HER site?"
Ashe nodded and laughed.

"Like I could get out of it even if I wanted to? We're leaving tomorrow.

Maybe she can help put this project back on schedule." Nathan ran his
fingers through his hair, kicked his shoes off, and slumped onto the
sofa. "Just remember, Brada thinks she can solve the world's problems
all by herself. I'm not so sure it's a good idea to get her in the
middle of this mess. But if there's something shady going on at the well
site, she's certainly got the nose for trouble to find it. Has she
seemed all right to you lately?" Ashe hesitated. "Distant, even
distracted, but that's pretty typical." After years of working with both
Nathan and Brada, he never knew exactly where to draw the line when it
came to handling their personalities. He quickly decided to tell Nathan
the truth. "Honestly, Nathan, taking Brada to the HER site worries me.

Even though she's attended every meeting we've had here at headquarters,
I just don't see why she's so certain she can help. Her background is in
solar and wind, not geothermal." Nathan nodded. "Which is exactly why
she begged for a chance to get involved. She's tired of warming the
bench. Everyone needs to feel like they're contributing. Going with you
will bring her back to earth, so to speak. Come on, Ashe, we both know
Brada. If she could, she'd do every job in the building by herself.

She'd work twenty-four hours a day and then some. I'm worried about her.

She's been under a lot of stress lately."

"Haven't we all?"

"Of course, but Brada's got more emotional baggage than anyone I know.
Her mother's an alcoholic, you know. It really eats away at her, and
sometimes I think she takes it too personally. She never seems to have
fun anymore." Nathan turned to look Ashe in the eye. "Hell, when we were
kids, Brada invented our fun. What an imagination!" He shook his head
and added, "Now she's so driven, she's all business, all the time." Ashe
stood and headed for the door. "I'll see if we can round up the crew for
a night on the town, even though painting a little town in western
Oklahoma red may not qualify as Brada's idea of fun." Nathan smiled. "Or
anyone else's--" The intercom beside him buzzed. Pressing the speaker
button, he answered, "Yes." His secretary, Dinell, quietly said, "I'm
sorry to interrupt you while you're in a meeting, Mr. Greenwall, but I
thought you'd like to know." She hesitated, then continued, "The
hospital just called. That student who was in the car wreck, Marilyn
Prosser, she uh, well ...  I'm afraid she just died." Brada was already
pacing Ashes office when he arrived the next morning at seven. Her
short black hair was uncombed, and she wore the same ragged jeans and
midriff- length black sweater he'd seen her in yesterday. Even though
she was in her late thirties and was a highly paid professional, she
still dressed like she was barely scraping by, partly because she didn't
want to be bothered, but mostly because she just didn't care. Bitch
Brada's haunting my office. What a way to start the day, Ashe tiredly
thought, realizing how appropriate her nickname usually was. "Rough
night?" he asked. "Damn straight," she mumbled. She stopped in front of
him and stared. Deep blue eyes hinted at something more than just a
mixture of exhaustion and anger. Ashe fleetingly wondered if she was
going to hug him or belt him. He was relieved when she chose the first,
even though it made him slightly uncomfortable. Brada was a pretty
woman, about five-eleven with big, bright eyes. Some might even consider
her beautiful, but Ashe knew her too well to harbor any physical
attraction.

Ashe had heard the office complaints about Brada. Depending on whose
viewpoint you heard, she was either an aloof snob or an obsessed
workaholic--either way she was a bitch. The people who worked with her
on a daily basis had learned to deal with her personality quirks. They
were used to her abruptly walking off when they were in the middle of a
sentence. She wasn't rude, she was just on a different level. A higher
level than most of us? Ashe wondered. Brada had grown up with Nathan.

Although they attended the same school back East, their backgrounds
couldn't be more diverse. While Nathan's family had wealth and power,
Brada's family struggled by. They'd kept in contact during college, and
after they graduated, she accepted a job with Petroco, even worked with
Chuck Kelmar. It was a choice she apparently regretted from her first
day on the job. When Nathan founded RESCUE, she begged him to let her
join, even offering her services for far less than she had been making
at Petroco just to get away. In a short time she more than earned her
position at RESCUE. Her brilliance was proven over and over again in the
first few years after the company was founded. She had a knack for
looking at designs and making them better. It was as if she could not
only see all the trees in the forest clearly, she could mentally
rearrange them to improve the overall picture. Ashe finally drew back
from her. "What was that for?"

"I needed a hug." She sighed and added, "Loosen up, Ashe, how could
anyone have a problem with a friendly hug?"

"In the eight years I've known you, Brada, I've never once seen you need
anything. Are you ready to go to the HER site, or is something wrong?"
She scowled, "I'm ready. I'm just exhausted." Resuming her pacing, she
shoved her fists into the pockets of her jeans. "Marilyn Prosser was
brilliant. She was full of life and ingenious ideas that could actually
make a difference in the world. And what did she get for it?" Brada
angrily answered her own question. "A few thousand dollars and a
coffin!" Ashe extended his arms, but she stomped away from him. He
calmly said, "People have car wrecks every day. When it's a young
person's life, it's particularly hard to accept. It really could have
been an accident."

"Bullshit!"

"You're wasting valuable energy, Brada.

Do you have any actual proof that Petroco was involved?"

"Only what she told me." He walked over, sat in his chair, and propped
his feet on his desk. "Nothing concrete?"

"She was going to bring the information when we met the next day. The
rest is pretty obvious."

"Isn't there anything else she told you?" She dejectedly shook her head.
"I should have asked more questions, pulled the details out of her.
Marilyn was young and gullible. All I know is that one of her professors
talked her into selling the idea. She said he handled everything. The
night I met her she was terrified." Slumping into a chair, Brada dropped
her head. Her voice caught as she added, "I told her not to worry. I
convinced her to meet with me again and to bring what little information
she had. Ashe, I might as well have put a gun to her head and killed her
myself!"


Chapter 3.


A few miles ahead and a thousand feet below, bright afternoon sunlight
reflected off a sleek oil derrick that Rae hoped marked their
destination. While one of her white- knuckled hands held onto a safety
strap for dear life, she tapped Ashes shoulder with the other. Shouting
over the drone of the helicopter, she asked, "Why was this particular
location chosen?" Leaning so close his face touched her hair, he
answered, "In the thirties and forties the Anadarko Basin proved to have
huge reserves of deep natural gas. Over the next forty years the oil and
gas industry exploited the area, penetrating these plains with hundreds
of wells, some almost six miles deep. "RESCUE bought this well two years
ago. It was one of the few wells that never hit and holds the record for
the deepest dry hole ever drilled in the area. According to the
geological reports on the initial drilling logs, it was a 'sure thing."
We all know how 'sure things' go in the oil business! "At any rate,
their loss is our gain. We have a perfectly good, deep well to start our
test work. It's even close enough to Elk City to become a viable energy
alternative for the area someday." Rae asked, "What stage am I coming in
at?"

"Actually, pretty early. We've been trying to rework the old well for
the last month."

"How deep was it?" she yelled. "They gave up around 21,000 feet."

"How deep till we reach a viable HER core?"

"Best estimate is between 28,000 and 32,000 feet. Obviously, the deeper
the well, the longer it will take to drill." Rae nodded, eager to absorb
every bit of information. Ashe was still shouting, "We've had more than
our share of slow-downs--equipment failures, unexpected high- pressure
gas flows, even the flu knocked out the whole crew for a week. Like I
told you on the phone, all I want you to do on this trip is get a feel
for how the site works. You'll have plenty of time to study the reports,
logs, etcetera, when | we get back to headquarters. Right?"

"Right," Rae called back. The drilling site seemed to grow larger and
larger. In the center a 180-foot-tall rig marked Petroco #114 in
glistening gold letters towered above the other meager structures. To
the north Rae saw a line of tents fluttering in the wind. On the
southeast side was another familiar oil patch fixture, a shabby white
mobile home. And to the southwest was a rough dirt road with several old
trucks parked haphazardly on the grassy shoulder. The helicopter began
its descent, sending clouds of dust whipping around the derrick. Members
of the six-person crew fled for cover, burying their faces in the
sleeves of well-worn coveralls. It was a futile attempt.

The pelting, stinging dirt was impossible to avoid. Within seconds after
the helicopter touched down, Ashe, Brada, and Rae jumped out. Each
grabbed a large duffel bag and ran toward the campsite, ducking away
from the whirling blades. In the wake of the helicopter's departure, a
peculiar hush descended on the camp. The diesel-powered rotary rig was
obviously not drilling, since the only sound was that of the never
ending Oklahoma wind. Feeling as if she'd just stepped off a roller
coaster, Rae gazed around the site, still unable to believe she not only
had a job, but she was actually starting work. Today. She was finally
getting used to the fact that abrupt, inconceivable life changes were
part of her destiny. The knot in her stomach began to loosen, partly
from Ashes sincere welcome, but mostly because her growing excitement
left little room for worry. She followed Ashe and Brada to a spot near
the mobile home that was obviously being used as the site's drilling
headquarters. A tall, lanky young man smiled and ran toward them from
the other side of the field. When he reached them, he breathlessly
greeted everyone as he shook Ashes hand and slapped him on the back.

Ashe said, "This is Andy Phillips. He's our drilling supervisor for this
project. Andy, meet Rae Majors, rescue's newest employee." Ashe nodded
toward Brada, who had already left the group to head toward the rig.

Ashe explained Brada's rude behavior by adding, "I guess Brada's anxious
to get started, as usual." Andy held out his hand and shook Rae's
vigorously. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Anything you need while you're
here, you just ask. I'll personally make sure you get it." Rae smiled
shyly. "Thanks." Ashe said, "I tried to call and let you know when we'd
be here, but apparently the cellular phone isn't working."

"It's probably ringing somewhere, along with the other equipment that
was stolen last night." Andy reached up and opened the door to the
mobile home, motioning inside. "Someone trashed the place while we were
in town getting supplies." Ashe glanced into the vandalized trailer,
then quickly asked, "Who stayed here at the site? Were they hurt?"

"Collins and Joyce were on duty, but the rig wasn't running. It was
quiet, yet they didn't see or hear a thing." Andy pointed at the far
north end of the rig as he added, "They were both working on the other
side until about nine o'clock, then they went straight to bed. We got
back from Elk City a little after midnight. I suppose it could've
happened even after we were back, since we didn't check inside the
trailer until this morning." Rae and Ashe exchanged a troubled look.
"Why aren't we up and running?" Andy shifted nervously. "We were all
pretty spooked. Whoever trashed the trailer could've done something to
the equipment. Again.

We've spent all morning checking everything. We want to be damn sure
it's safe before we crank her back up." He hesitated, throwing a
questioning glance at Rae. "There's something else you need to know."

"RESCUE doesn't have any secrets. If you can tell me, you can tell Rae."
Andy shrugged, looking especially young and sheepish as he said, "Joyce
gave her notice this morning. She's had it with this job, wants to leave
as soon as she can. Collins is thinking about going with her." Ashe ran
his fingers through his hair. "They understand they're being paid by the
hour, whether we're drilling or not. Right?"

"It's not just the money. I know it sounds crazy, but they're convinced
this job is jinxed, and that it's just a matter of time until someone
gets hurt, or worse." Ashe shook his head. "Fine. We'll replace them. Do
they have their own transportation?" Andy nodded. "Then tell them to hit
the road. Right now is fine." He pulled a palm-sized cellular phone out
his pocket and tossed it to Andy. "Use my phone to call headquarters and
have them mail their final checks." Ashe turned to Rae and added, "Ready
for a tour?" As they walked slowly toward the derrick, Rae said, "Sounds
like things aren't going very smoothly." Ashe laughed. "You could say
that. But then again, how much in life goes smoothly? We'll come through
this, one way or another. I hope it doesn't worry you."

"I have to admit, this isn't the most secure feeling I've ever had. A
few years ago it probably would've sent me packing, but I suppose I've
learned to adapt." Ashe stopped and looked into her eyes. He seemed as
though he were about to tell her some deep, dark secret, but after a few
awkward seconds he said, "I'm really glad you came to work for RESCUE. I
promised Nathan I'd take the crew out for a night on the town. You're
one of the crew now, so that means you've got to go."

"Doesn't someone have to stay here and hold down the fort? Being the
newest, I'd think that job would naturally fall in my lap."

"I've got buddies around here who owe me some big favors, so you let me
worry about guarding the fort. Besides, it looks like we won't be up and
running again until tomorrow, maybe longer if we can't find replacements
for Collins and Joyce. Just promise you'll try to have fun tonight.
We've got a lot of work ahead of us." The idea of going out with Ashe
intrigued Rae more than she cared to admit. Shyly she said, "I'm looking
forward to it. The work, that is." Ashe genuinely smiled, his gaze
holding hers a breath longer than necessary. "Me, too." The phone rang
twice. Glancing at the Caller ID screen, the man smiled. As expected,
the originator of the call had blocked the number. After five more
rings, he finally answered but didn't say a word. All he did was listen.
"I think it's time." A different device monitoring the phone line glowed
a green light. The line was clear of listening devices. "I agree," he
said. "We'll have to move fast. They'll start drilling again sometime
tomorrow. Did you get it?"

"Yes, but not much. It's hard to come by, you know."

"It won't take much. A little will work just fine. Were the
international connections we discussed reliable?"

"As reliable as any such sleazy sources could be." He ran his hand over
the briefcase beside him. In some ways it was identical to the one he'd
designed to hold the frozen crossbow bolts.

But in others it was entirely different. The refrigeration chamber had
been replaced with lead. Inside that were layers of waffled,
shock-absorbing gray foam. The case could probably be thrown from the
top of a twenty-story building, and the cylinder nestled inside wouldn't
have a mark on it. "Can you handle it tonight?"

"I'll be there."

"Start thinking about Greenwall, too. I have a feeling it's almost time.
But it can't be anything permanent, right?"

"Just creative."

"That's your trademark. By the way, the senators' untimely deaths were
fluidly handled."

"I take pride in my work."

"Which is why we make such a good team."

"How true." As he hung up, the rush began to build deep inside.

Glancing at his watch, he knew there wasn't enough time to prepare
properly. Not enough time to scout the location, or to set up an
alternate escape route, he thought. Another precious rule shot to hell.

Years ago he couldn't have done it, couldn't have risked everything
without batting an eye. But after a lifetime of caution, he smiled at
the danger he was creating, certain the years of experience had finally
made him invincible-- a true killing machine. Dinell flipped on the
lights to the executive suite and dropped her purse in a desk drawer.

After glancing nervously down the dark hallway one last time, she rushed
into Nathan's office and riffled through the papers stacked on the
corner of his desk. Finding the ones she was looking for, she scurried
back to her desk and slipped them into an unlabeled file. Her heart
almost stopped when Nathan appeared in the doorway and asked, "What are
you doing here at this hour of the morning?"

"You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry. I'm usually the first one here." Taking a deep breath, she
nervously explained, "I had to finish up the progress reports for the
staff meeting this afternoon. Besides, I couldn't sleep."

"Anything I can do to help?" Shaking her head, she replied, "No. But
it's nice of you to offer. I'll bring you some coffee as soon as it's
ready." Nathan nodded and slipped into his office. Dinell's heart was
pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips as she shakily
measured the coffee grounds. What if he noticed the latest financial
reports were gone? With all that's going on right now, the last thing I
need is for him to be suspicious! The starlight binoculars were
necessary only for a small part of the approach, even though no moon lit
the night. Huge floodlights mounted on the sides of the drilling rig
illuminated the area almost as well as daylight. But there were still
random shadows, a few places to blend into nature. The entire site
covered less than twenty acres, and was quite literally in the middle of
nowhere. Under different circumstances, the structure would have been a
sight to behold. The derrick was a magnificent work of brightly lit
angles with a clear, star-filled sky as its backdrop. Wind whipped
through the rig, making some stray piece of metal scrape softly in the
night. He crawled from trees to bushes, avoiding the south road, where
several trucks were parked. Moving closer and closer wasn't an easy
task, as the heavy briefcase had to be pushed in front of him, inch by
inch. Even though he'd never been to this site before, it was exactly as
expected.

Drilling sites hadn't changed much in the last twenty years. Rigs hadn't
either, no thanks to people like that college kid who sold out for a few
lousy bucks. A chill of satisfaction ran through him as his mind
replayed the last, ragged breath of her life. Petroco had paid him
nicely to take out the traitorous slut. Little did they know he would
have done it for free. Destroying a Petroco rig was going to be a
pleasure! Gazing up at the sign that declared this particular rig to be
petroco #114, he felt his stomach turn. For him the journey to this
night had begun on a rig exactly like this one. Petroco #46, to be
exact. In twenty years his memory of that day hadn't faded. Instead, it
was nourished by his hatred. His father had died on rig #46. Just
another roughneck in the wrong place at the wrong time. Back then
accidents on drilling rigs were frequent. Families didn't sue, they just
limped along without any help from anyone. Kids still grew up. But the
lesson was learned. Pushing the lead-lined briefcase past the mound of
dirt surrounding the mud pit was out of the question. It was too heavy
to run with, and would be too noisy if it accidentally bumped against
any of the equipment or was dropped. He knew he was risking fatal
exposure if he handled the cylinder directly, but he didn't give a damn.

He seemed to be taking more and more chances these days. Deadly chances.

For five minutes, he stared at the path he would take, mentally
picturing each step, each movement, until he was certain he was ready.

Out of habit he glanced at his watch. It was exactly 2:16. Silently,
carefully, he eased open the case and wrapped his gloved fingers around
the cylinder. Moving like a cat, he wove in and out of shadows quickly,
efficiently. Covered from head to toe in camouflage, he was almost
invisible each time he froze to listen and scan the area. In seconds he
mounted the rig floor. Keeping low against the black surface, he blended
easily into the stark merger of machinery and night. He moved quickly,
stealthily crossing to the center of the derrick where the rotary table,
which turned the drill pipe, sat motionless. From a hole in the center
of the rotary table rose the threaded end of the six-inch diameter drill
pipe, the other end of which lay almost four miles beneath his feet. He
stood before it to peer down the black hole. Metal violating the
precious soil. A pathway straight to hell! Now it will be useless ...
One by one his fingers opened until the cylinder fell. Gravity pulled it
end over end down the twenty thousand- foot shaft, where its mere
presence would result in irreparable damage when the first few turns of
the drill bit pierced the thin encasement, shredding it into a million
pieces. A smile creased his face. Turning away, he was thankful it was
done, more than ready to slink back into the night as he stepped away
from the godforsaken hole. But he wasn't alone. From out of the shadows,
a tall, lanky man appeared with a crowbar poised ominously over his
head. In a surprisingly calm voice he said, "Move an inch and I'll beat
the living shit out of you. We've had enough of your little games.

Exactly what the hell did you just drop in there?" Although it seemed
like minutes passed, the killer made up his mind in less than a second.

The human body, when expertly used, is just as lethal as most weapons,
and usually caught untrained adversaries off guard. He instantly judged
this crowbar-wielding adversary to be as untrained as they came. In a
blur he whirled toward the man, his right foot landing a lethal blow
directly to the front of the man's neck, instantly crushing his
windpipe. Even as he was falling, another kick snapped his neck again,
this time breaking the vertebrae. The crowbar clanked loudly as it flew
against the metal flooring, its hollow sound reverberating in the wind
as it slowly came to rest. As the killer ran into the brush, the camp
came suddenly to life behind him. He didn't care, didn't even look back.

He merely grabbed the briefcase and continued carefully on his way. The
only evidence he had left behind was the cylinder itself, and it would
soon be crushed beyond recognition thousands of feet inside the earth's
crust. Ashe heard the unmistakable sound of metal falling against metal,
and bolted upright on his cot. He pulled a pair of sweatpants over his
underwear and snatched a batterypowered lantern that was on the floor
beside him. Glancing quickly around, he searched for anything he could
use as a weapon, grabbing the only thing he saw that looked even
slightly menacing--a large golf umbrella that ended in a nasty metallic
point. At a full run he headed for the rig, but stopped halfway when he
heard someone call his name. Rae was twenty feet to his left, waving
frantically. He ran to her, shouting, "What are you doing out here?" Rae
was barefoot, wearing a gray sweatsuit and holding the tiniest
flashlight he'd ever seen. "I couldn't sleep," she said as she waved the
little light. "I was reading when I heard the noise. I looked out and
spotted someone running that way." She pointed at the far side of the
rig, where there was a narrow opening between the field and the mud pit.

Ashe ordered, "You stay here!" Grabbing his arm, she stopped him. "What
are you going to do, skewer him with an umbrella?" Reaching under the
side of her sweatshirt she pulled out a small revolver, which she
quickly traded for the umbrella. Ashe was shocked. "We can discuss the
morality of the gun issue later! Just be careful. It's ready to fire
when you pull back the hammer." Ashe didn't know what to say, but he
knew every second counted. As he rushed past the rig and into the brush,
he wondered what kind of damage the bastards had done this time. Rae
stood for a few seconds, watching Ashe disappear into the night. She
wondered what she could do to help. A noise by the tents caught her
attention. Brada was zipping up a pair of faded blue jeans as she came
rushing out. When she spotted Rae, she yelled, "What the hell's going on
out here?" Rae answered, "We heard a noise. I saw someone running away
from the rig. Ashe went after him."

"Shit. I hope he's careful. We don't know what kind of crazy people
we're dealing with."

"Shouldn't we check the rig?" Rae asked. Brada shook her head. "I'll go
wake up the rest of the crew. You stay here. It could be dangerous." Rae
shrugged as she said, "I doubt it. The guy I saw was in a big hurry to
get out of here." Brada was heading quickly away from her. Over her
shoulder she raised her voice and said, "My point exactly. What if the
asshole planted a bomb?" Rae's knees almost buckled as a chill
temporarily paralyzed her. Ashes umbrella fell to the ground with a
soft thud. She tried to breathe, but she felt as though she'd been
slammed by a staggering blow to the chest. A bomb! Tears jumped into her
eyes, but they couldn't blur the mental pictures her mind was
unwrapping. Like horrible souvenirs from a visit to hell, she relived
the destruction, felt the strange crunch of fertilizer beneath each
carefully placed step, saw the blood run in the streets. Slowly at
first, then faster and faster she ran into the darkness, away from the
rig. More agonizing memories tormented her: the news flash she'd heard
on the radio just minutes after the explosion; the frantic trip back to
the print shop, only to find it empty; hours that turned into days of
hoping and praying; the funeral for what was left of her husband's body.
Rae's stomach clenched again, and she realized she must have been
running for quite some time. A violent wave of nausea dropped her to her
knees, and she lost what little was left of their celebration dinner in
Elk City.

She wandered slightly farther, then slumped against a nearby tree.

Pulling her knees to her chin, she closed her eyes, leaned back, and let
the memories rip out her heart one more time. Ashe knew his search was
hopeless after only a few minutes. The brush was thick, and the ground
was hard. There were no footprints to follow, no sound of anyone moving
ahead. At first the light from his lantern had shown a few broken twigs,
but even that trail quickly disappeared. He turned to walk back toward
the rig, then broke into a run when he heard one of the men shouting. As
fast as he could, he climbed the stairs. On the rig floor, one of the
crew members stopped him by grabbing his shoulders and quietly saying,
"It's Andy." "What about him?" Ashe asked breathlessly.

"He's dead." Ashe pushed the man out of his way, storming past him.

"Come on, this isn't funny." A few steps later, his eyes fell on his
friend and co-worker. The horrifying realization that it was true struck
home. He knelt bedside Andy's body to check for a pulse. An overwhelming
sense of loss rushed through him, followed by an anger that seemed to
rip holes in his soul. Rushing off the platform, he shouted, "Has anyone
called the police?" Someone's voice echoed in the still night. "They're
on the way. Brada is waiting on the edge of camp to flag 'em down."
Ashes eyes darted about the campsite. For several moments he just stood
there, fighting his own demons. Why does RESCUE even try? Is anything
worth losing a good man like Andy? What about Rae? What the hell have I
dragged her into? The last thought hit him with the force of a brutal
kick. Searching the site, he stumbled across the umbrella she had taken
from him. "God, no," he cried, pushing down another surge of anxiety.

Rushing across the site, he found Brada pacing at the edge of the dirt
road. "Have you seen Rae?" he breathlessly asked. Brada thought for a
second. "Not since all this started, maybe ten or fifteen minutes ago.

She was standing in the middle of camp when I went to wake up everyone."

"Did she say anything?"

"She wanted to check the rig, but I told her to wait, that it might not
be safe." Ashe was pacing back and forth. "When I left, she was holding
this umbrella. I found it lying in the dirt. You don't suppose something
happened to her, too, do you?"

"Let's hope not." Brada laughed nervously. "I'm still half worried that
man might have dropped a bomb down the hole before he killed Andy. I
hope the sheriff gets here soon." "Shit," Ashe said, knowing she might
be right. Jogging back to camp, he studied the area again. Rae's tent
was still empty, she wasn't in the mobile home, and no one had seen her.
Checking his watch, he realized it was still more than three hours until
sunrise. Marching back to the spot where he'd found the umbrella, Ashe
looked around. If she had left the way the killer had, he would've
spotted her during his initial search. There was only one other clear
way out of camp, in the opposite direction from the derrick. Turning his
lantern back on, he headed into the darkness. A thousand things crossed
his mind as he walked. Were there several people here tonight? Was the
man Rae spotted a decoy, leading us away while someone else still lurked
in the camp to do more damage ? What was Andy doing on the rig floor in
the middle of the night? Who would want to kill him? What if they
kidnapped Rae, or hurt her? The moment the thought of Rae being hurt
crossed his mind, he felt the oddest sensation pulse through him. It
made him sweat, made his muscles tense as if he should ready himself to
fight some invisible demon. Ashe started walking faster, practically
running with his flashlight, scanning the horizon as he shouted her
name. Even though they'd only met a few days ago, he already knew he
didn't want to lose her. Rae opened her eyes, realizing her heart was no
longer threatening to leap out of her chest. Dragging a deep, ragged
breath, she was suddenly embarrassed. God, my chance to prove I can make
it alone, and I run away at the first sign of trouble. What will Ashe
think? He'll think I'm a coward, a pathetic, frail woman. Shit! Drying
tear-streaked cheeks with the back of her sleeve, she quickly stood and
brushed the leaves and dirt away. It was dark, and she had no idea where
she was or which way led back to the drilling site, but she had no
intention of staying put until someone stumbled upon her. To the trees
she proclaimed, "I don't want their sympathy, and I'll be damned if
anyone from RESCUE is going to have to rescue me!" Moving to a clearing,
Rae searched the night sky. Closing her eyes, she pictured the place on
the south end of camp where she had been standing before she panicked.
With rising confidence she pinpointed the north star and began hiking in
that direction. It wasn't long before she heard Ashe calling her name.
"I'm over here," she shouted, pushing through a wave of fear. Seeing the
worried look on his face made her even more ashamed. Trying to sound
normal, but not quite succeeding, she asked, "What in the world are you
doing out here?"

"Looking for you! Are you all right?" Without meeting his curious gaze,
she tramped past him. "I'm fine. I was just heading back to camp. Sorry
if I caused any concern." At the instant she felt his hand on her
shoulder, she whirled around. "I said I was sorry!" Taken aback by her
sharp retort, he snapped, "Sorry for what? What the hell are you doing
out here, anyway?" Lie! her mind screamed, but the pain and concern in
his eyes made it impossible. Staring at the wet leaves beneath her feet,
she sighed. "I needed some fresh air. I just had to get away for a
little while. I really didn't think anyone would even notice I was
gone." Ashes slender fingers grazed the line of her chin, lifting her
face to meet his questioning gaze. "I'm not mad, Rae.

I'm just worried. Why'd you run off?" Rae hated to lie to him, but she
despised the sympathetic look in his eyes even more. "Okay, so I got
scared. With all the problems at the site, I didn't know what to expect,
who to trust. I thought it would be safer to kill some time out here
until things settled down." Seeing him wince at the word kill, she
asked, "Exactly what happened?"

"Someone killed Andy on the platform." A fresh wave of tears rushed to
her eyes. "Oh, my God, Ashe! He was such a sweet man, and I know he was
your friend. I'm so, so sorry."

"Me, too." This time it was Ashe who looked away, fighting to rein in
his emotions.

After taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, the police are probably at
the site by now, so I really need to get back. I have a lot to worry
about right now, and I'd rather not have to add you to the list."
Mortified, Rae trudged back to camp, certain that one way or another she
would earn his respect again. She had to. "You look exhausted," Nathan
said the next day as he watched Brada slump onto the sofa in his office.

"I just talked to Ashe. He said the site is still crawling with people
from the sheriff's department and every other law enforcement agency in
the area. Everyone is in shock."

"I'm glad I left. A few hours of endless questions were more than enough
for me, and seeing the look on the face of Andy's wife was the worst
experience of my life." Nathan shook his head. "Ashe feels horrible,
like it was somehow his fault."

"It wasn't."

"I just wish there was something I could do. I feel so damned helpless
here. It just doesn't seem real that Andy is dead. He was only
twenty-eight years old. Ashe said they think he was hiding on the rig,
waiting to see if someone was really sabotaging our work." Brada sighed.
"Unfortunately, he found the answer to his question. It's too bad he
didn't have someone with him. Any of us would, we helped stand guard.
Maybe--" Nathan spun around. "Maybe you'd be dead, too!" She walked over
and hugged him. "It's too late to change things now." He nodded. Pulling
away, he quickly changed the subject. "When are you scheduled to testify
before the grand jury about your meeting with Marilyn Prosser?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"You don't sound very thrilled about it."

"We both know how it will go. I'll waste an entire afternoon telling
them everything she told me, which is pretty incriminating except she
never mentioned the name of the company that paid her off or which
professor gave her the contact."

"You can never tell. Maybe she talked to someone else we don't know
about, or the police found something to implicate one of her professors.
After all, they don't convene a grand jury for no reason." Brada tiredly
rubbed her temples.

"I don't envy the police on either case--first Marilyn, and now Andy."

"Do they have any leads in Andy's murder?"

"They wouldn't tell us anything. I did overhear a couple of them
talking, though. They said the coroner's initial impression was that
whoever killed him was probably into martial arts and in extremely good
physical condition. A lot of help that is. It might narrow the list of
suspects down to a few hundred thousand people." Nathan walked over and
sat on the couch beside Brada.

"At least Andy stopped them before they damaged any of the equipment
again."

"He'd have been proud of that." He shook his head, then slumped farther
into the soft cushion. "Sometimes it just makes me want to give up. With
these kinds of people running around, maybe the world isn't worth
saving. Maybe extinction is the right idea." Brada shifted, moving
closer to Nathan, so her shoulder touched his. She gently stroked the
back of his hand as she said, "You sound like you could use a rest, too.
What happened to those high and mighty dreams of yours?" He scoffed.
"I'm beginning to think that's all they are. No one else knows this,
Brada, but I know I can trust you. Even with all the money I've
invested, if we can't present a realistic three-year profit plan, we may
lose everything."

"But how? I thought the money you inherited from your mother was more
than enough to keep RESCUE going."

"So did I. Thirty-Jive million sounded like it would last forever. Right
off the bat, five million went to build rescue's headquarters. Payroll
expense and benefits run almost a quarter million a month. Believe me,
it adds up fast."

"Isn't the Solar division holding its own?"

"Both Solar and Wind are marginally profitable since we stepped up our
advertising and started mass marketing. Pure Nourishment is profitable
on the West Coast and a few trendy markets on the Eastern seaboard.
Everywhere else, we're losing our shirts. And, of course, Geothermal is
sucking a lot of research money. The last thing we needed were more
problems at the site." Brada sighed. "Maybe we should give up on HER.
For now, at least.

Put more money into solar instead."

"We're too close. Besides, it has the potential to beat everything else
combined." He drew a ragged breath. "I can handle the financial end of
things. Sherrie Rosen has a lot of connections in New York. She's
already quietly watching for potential investors for us. I didn't mean
to dump more problems in your lap. I know you've had a rough time lately
with your mother. How is she since I last saw her?" Brada shrugged,
glancing away. "She should graduate from the rehab clinic again any day
now. Too bad they don't guarantee their work."

"I know how hard it's been. If there's anything I can do to help, just
say so. She doesn't have to know where the money came from. I'm sure she
wouldn't accept any help from me." Brada stared at him, her expression
fiery. "Thanks," she managed, trying to keep her emotions in control.
Nathan picked up a picture of the Oklahoma drilling site and stared at
it. "How are the other employees handling Andy's death?"

"No one was talking much when I left. By the way, what's the deal with
Rae Majors?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just after the murder, Ashe was looking all over the place for her. He
finally found her out in the middle of a nearby field. He says she's
fine. I think that's a pretty strange reaction, no matter how stressful
the situation." Nathan was tired and didn't care to invade Rae's privacy
by elaborating. "Let's just say Rae has had a tough life. We all need to
help her whenever we can." Brada yawned. "Whatever you say. I hope I get
a chance to get back to the site if they ever start drilling again."
Nathan stood, pulled her off the sofa, and pushed her toward the door.
"That's when, not if, they start drilling. You'll be the first to know.
Right now, get the hell out of here. You need to be alert for the grand
jury. Go home. Take a nap.

Relax for once." Brada smiled and left. As she walked down the hall she
mumbled to herself, "I'll relax when you do, Nathan. At the rate we're
going, that'll be the precise moment we can snowboard together in hell."
Four days after the murder, the yellow crime-scene tape was removed. The
steady stream of law enforcement officers who had invaded the drilling
site finally dwindled. Occasionally one would appear, wander around as
though just being there might help solve the murder, then slip away. A
few local reporters would still stop by, but once they realized no one
was going to tell them anything, they quickly hopped back in their fancy
satellite trucks and vanished in a cloud of dust. Ashe studied Rae from
a distance as the crew gathered for a meeting. She sat alone, off to one
side with her shoulder- length brown hair gleaming in the sunlight. It
tumbled freely around her face, perfectly framing big chocolate eyes
above a nose and cheeks sprinkled with freckles. He sighed. Every day he
noticed something else that attracted him, pulled at the very center of
his being. He wanted her near, yet at the same time he hoped he wouldn't
regret it later. The way she had acted the night Andy was killed still
haunted him. Why had she run off? What was she hiding? In a few steps he
was at her side. "You look awfully serious."

"I was thinking the same thing about you."

"I wish you'd gone back to headquarters with Brada." She glanced at the
grim faces surrounding them. "And miss all this? You've got to be
kidding!" The last of the fourteen crew members arrived, and Ashe walked
to where everyone could see him. After taking a deep breath, he said, "I
know we're all still a little shaken by what happened to Andy. What
we're here to decide is whether we can get back to drilling. It appears
that whoever killed Andy wasn't successful in his attempt to sabotage
the rig, so it should be ready to go. "You all know we've hired four
armed security guards who'll be positioned both on the derrick and in
the surrounding woods from now on. They've rigged booby traps that will
set off alarms if anyone is messing around the perimeter of the site.
There isn't much more we can do except stay alert. The question is, are
you willing to try one more time?" The sun was beating down on Ashe, and
even though there was a chill in the air, he felt a bead of sweat
trickle down his forehead. Hiring a whole new crew would add even more
time and money to a budget that was already stretched too far. He
honestly didn't think the project had a chance if they didn't get
started again. Right away. Finally, one of the men said, "I'll keep
going. Andy was a great guy. He died trying to stop these bastards. He
wouldn't have thrown in the towel, and I don't think he'd want us to
now." Another man agreed. Then another. Pretty soon everyone was nodding
in agreement. Ashe glanced at Rae, who smiled back at him. Ashe was
relieved, yet in some ways even more worried-- the safety of these
people rested in his hands. Standing, he dusted the dirt off the seat of
his pants. "Then it's settled. Let's get this sucker up and running."
The men patted each other on the back and headed for the rig. Pulling on
grimy overalls and gloves, each began to do what he did best--work. The
air was heavy with nervous apprehension. Everyone was thinking the same
thing, but no one uttered a word. Could the killer have sabotaged the
well without leaving even a trace of evidence behind? Was there
something down the hole? Ashe and Rae walked slowly toward the rig. They
stood back, watching the crew as they brought the huge network of
machinery to life. It cranked slowly at first, then began to hum
rhythmically. Minutes passed, each person anxiously waiting to see if
they'd finally be back in business. Ashe led Rae to a spot on the side
of the rig where they could watch, but still be out of the roughnecks'
way. "We can wait here. At this depth the trip out could take awhile."
Rae knew the trip out was the field term for how long it would take the
cuttings from the bottom of the hole to travel up the pipe to the
surface. A chill of excitement pulsed through her as she realized she
was finally a professional geologist. As they waited, Ashe reached into
his pocket and pulled out the gun she'd given him the night of the
murder. "Almost forgot. I've been meaning to give this back to you." Rae
casually took it from him, made sure it wasn't loaded, and smiled.

"Thanks," she said as she slid it into the pocket of her jacket. "Aren't
you going to ask why I have a gun with me?" Ashe tried to act
nonchalant, even though it was killing him. "I just assumed you feel
safer having it around." She shook her head. "Not really. It was part of
my college graduation present. The gun, plus lessons at a firing range."
He raised his eyebrows. "Interesting choice for a gift." She ran her
fingers over the cold metal in her pocket. "My father grew up hearing
stories about how rough the oil patch is. He was sure I was going to be
raped and killed on my first job as a geologist. I promised him I'd
bring it with me."

"Maybe you shouldn't tell him about Andy's murder." Rae nodded. "Good
idea, as long as he doesn't read about it in the paper."

"We're pretty far from Oklahoma City, so I doubt if it will make the
news. It is a nice little gun." Rae shivered in the wind. She rubbed her
hands up and down her arms to try to stay warm. ""Light but lethal," I
believe the guy said. It's a .38 Smith and Wesson Airweight Bodyguard. I
think my father cared more about the name of it than anything else.
Since Ken, my husband, was killed, he worries about me too much. He
liked the idea of me having a 'bodyguard."

" So do I, Ashe thought. He moved closer to her, blocking as much of the
biting wind as he could. "I'm just glad I didn't have to use it."

"Me, too. I hope I never have to use it, but it does sort of make me
feel more secure.

Especially at night. I never knew hours could drag by like they have in
the last few years." Ashe put his arm around her shoulder, then abruptly
pulled away. Rae looked at him, then grinned as she read the worried
look on his face. "It's all right. I'm not the type of woman who's going
to scream sexual harassment over a friendly gesture."

"Things have certainly changed in the last few years," Ashe said, moving
close again.

"It makes it damned hard to know what's allowed and what's not." He was
several inches taller, and she seemed to fit perfectly beside him. "I
came here hoping to find new friends, build another life. Being around
people like you, people who really care about what they do, makes it
easy."

"I know you've had a hard time. If you ever want to talk about it ..."
Rae simply nodded. "Maybe later, as long as you promise not to tell me
that time heals all wounds. It doesn't. All the time in the world isn't
going to help what happened make sense. Ask Andy's wife and kids in a
few months, even a few years. We accept our fate, but for the rest of
our lives we have to make a choice. We can either exist from day to day,
or we can fight to really live our lives. All because some senseless
bastards killed our innocence along with the people we loved!" Ashe
squeezed her closer to him, sighing. "I know I'm not much help, but I'll
be happy to listen anytime." Rae nodded, slightly worried that she'd
expressed too much of the anger she fought every day. They stood there
quietly for a long time. Finally, the trip out was finished.

Shouts of excitement came from the crew as they realized they were up
and running smoothly. Rae motioned for Ashe to follow her across the rig
floor, then into the small enclosed area known as the doghouse. Its
walls provided protection from the weather, and it was where most of the
drilling gauges and geological test equipment was located. They were
both thankful to be out of the cutting wind. Rae shyly said, "Sorry
about my tirade."

"No apology necessary. I'm just glad you felt comfortable enough to
confide in me." She nodded and smiled. "You're a good listener." Moving
closer to the shelf, she said, "I know I'm just supposed to watch while
I'm here, but I'd prefer to be productive. I noticed this the other day
when Andy showed me around." She dragged a large, dusty black case out
from under the narrow shelf. "Everything I need to test rock cuttings
and fluid samples is right here. Would you mind?"

"Of course not. In fact, if it won't bother you, I'd like to watch.
Contrary to popular belief, old dogs love to learn new tricks." She
grabbed a sample bottle, and they headed back outside. Fluids and sludge
brought up from the bottom of the hole flowed from a pipe into the mud
pit. Holding the bottle near the pipe, she filled it with the
brownish-red substance. Before Rae pulled the bottle away, the wind
suddenly shifted violently to the north, blowing globs of the viscous,
oily material onto her blue jeans and windbreaker. "Shit!" she
exclaimed. Ashe was staring at the ominous clouds rolling in. "We'd
better get this finished. It looks like we're in for a storm." Jogging
back to the doghouse, she said, "It won't take long." Once inside, Rae
hurriedly set up some of the equipment. "Do you know how this works?"
she asked, pointing at the apparatus in front of her. "Nope. But if you
don't mind, I'd like to watch." Ashe could tell by the smile that lit
her face she was finally in her element. "One of the things I love about
my job is learning new things. Since my background isn't in geology, I
find all this fascinating."

"What did you major in?"

"I've got an MBA in business administration."

"Then we'll start with the basics. This is called a light box. It's
simply a microscope attached to a box that can be flooded with
ultraviolet light. If we were drilling an oil well, this would tell us
if we've hit pay dirt. Oil fluoresces under ultraviolet light, making it
easy to spot."

"What will it tell us about an HER well?"

"If there is any oil in this well, we need to know. Almost all of the
water injected into an HER well will be recycled. Oil in the water could
complicate things tremendously." Ashe listened and learned as she walked
him step by step through each test she ran on the sample.

Finally, she smiled and asked, "That's it, everything turned out perfect
for our purposes. Do you feel enlightened? Or maybe I should say
relieved?"

"All of the above." He pulled a small, hand-held piece of equipment out
of the very back of the black case and asked, "You used everything else
in here. Why didn't you run a test with this contraption?" Rae took it
from him and said, "I'm not sure why that's even in there. Geiger
counters aren't exactly standard equipment on the well sites I've seen,
although I suppose it could have something to do with norm." "Who's
Norm?" Ashe asked. She laughed. "Not Norm, like the guy in Cheers. norm,
as in Naturally Occurring Radioactive Materials. I had to answer an
essay question about norm on one of my finals last month, so I'm pretty
well versed about it. Basically, norm constitutes a large group of
low-level natural radioactive materials such as shales which are
extracted from mining or drilling operations. "Not too long ago, the
materials in the sludge were just buried and forgotten. But in the past
few years ecologists have convinced enough bureaucrats that they
constitute an environmental hazard and must be disposed of in a safer
way if they measure over a certain specified radioactive level. So norm
laws were passed making it illegal to ignore the problem. That doesn't
mean something is always done about it. It just means that if someone
pushes for a site clean-up, they can use the law to force the companies
to take responsibility."

"I can see why your grades are so high. You sound like you memorized the
textbook."

"I had to," she laughed, "My professor wrote it." Ashe playfully grabbed
the Geiger counter. "I don't know about old Norm, but let's see if
you're radioactive." She moved away as she threw back her hair and
provocatively joked, "I've been told I have a radiant personality, but I
don't think that means I glow in the dark!" Ashe flipped a switch to the
On position and waved the wand close to Rae. The doghouse was
immediately filled with the sound of intense clicking, and the needle on
the face of the gauge almost touched the red zone. He stepped back and
the clicking decreased, but never totally stopped. Rae smiled, playfully
asking, "How'd you make it do that?" Ashe shrugged. "I just turned it
on." He tapped it on the shelf. "It must be broken."

"Let me see. We had the same model at school." She took it from him and
waved it over him.

Nothing happened, just the same low background noise. After adjusting a
knob on the side, she held it close to her body again. It clicked
frantically. Rae's smile faded as she noticed the clumps of dirt
splattered across her clothes made the Geiger counter practically sing.

She moved cautiously toward the shelf, until the wand was directly over
the fluid sample. Outside, the first threatening clap of thunder rolled
over the rig, but inside the doghouse the Geiger counter's clicks were
so fast and furious neither Ashe nor Rae noticed.


Chapter 4.


For a few moments Rae stood paralyzed, staring wide-eyed at the Geiger
counter. Logically, she knew the sample might actually be radioactive,
but the sickening image her mind immediately linked with radiation
poisoning was something she couldn't quite confront. Another clap of
thunder, this one close enough to rattle the very structure of the
derrick, brought both Ashe and Rae back to reality. Ashe snapped, "Leave
everything here. Your jackets and jeans, too." Rae threw him a nasty
look. Swiftly peeling off his overalls, he stood in jeans and a T-shirt.

"Here, put these on. I'll pull the crew off the rig until we figure out
what the hell is going on." Running out of the doghouse, he shouted,
"Meet me in the mobile home." Rae kicked off her boots, then peeled down
her jeans, being careful not to touch the splattered mud stains. After
slipping the gun out of her jacket, she wiggled free of it, too. Ashes
overalls were several inches too long, so she quickly cuffed them, then
started to put her boots back on. Seeing they were caked with mud as
well, she tossed them aside and grabbed the Geiger counter. Passing the
wand over her boots, then her socks, she knew they were contaminated,
too. Barefoot and shivering from a chill that came from deep inside, Rae
stepped into the pouring rain, slamming the door to the doghouse behind
her. She crouched as she carefully ran, shielding the gun and Geiger
counter she'd tucked inside the overalls away from the pouring rain. Mud
oozed between her toes and cold trickles of water snaked down her back
as she scrambled to the mobile home on the far side of the camp. By the
time she climbed inside, she was soaking wet. Finding a roll of paper
towels, she wiped her feet, then dropped to her knees to try to clean up
the tracks she'd left across the floor. She was still mopping up mud
when Ashe rushed in, scattering a fresh layer on the floor. Pulling Rae
to his side, he said, "Leave it. We've got much bigger problems to worry
about." From the look on his face, she already knew the answer to her
question, but she still asked it. "How did the crew take getting kicked
off the rig again?"

"I told them we were shutting down because of the storm. They looked at
me like I was some sort of maniac, but I was pretty insistent. I didn't
think we should scare the hell out of everyone by mentioning radiation
until we know for certain what we're dealing with."

"Good. Besides, it would be smart to do some damage control on the front
end of this problem. Maybe come up with some sort of long-term medical
package to keep them from panicking and running to the nearest lawyer."
His face fell. "Do you always have to be so logical?"

"Sorry. It's the accountant left in me. Maybe it'll wear off in a few
years." Taking the Geiger counter, she tested the mud clinging to Ashes
boots. Nothing happened. "That's encouraging," she said.

"What?"

"Apparently, the contamination isn't everywhere. Maybe we just drilled
through some of the very materials norm was designed to protect people
from." She shrugged and added, "Then again, norm specifically targets
low-level radiation, and I certainly wouldn't classify this as
low-level. Maybe someone illegally dumped some nuclear waste near here.

It could travel through the groundwater and come up in the mud, even if
it was dumped miles away." He doubted that was the case, but his eyes
softened as he replied, "We can always hope." Rae walked around the
mobile home, waving the wand everywhere. It was virtually silent, only
an occasional background click. Finally she sighed and said, "You know,
the Geiger counter could be broken. We may be blowing this way out of
proportion."

"Just for argument's sake, let's assume we aren't. How the hell could
something like this happen?" She shrugged. "Could be a freak of nature
and we're just the first ones to stumble across it."

"Wouldn't the workers on the original well have gotten sick if
radioactive material was being circulated out of the well bore?"

"I'd assume so, eventually. I think most exposure-related illnesses
happen years after the fact, like thyroid cancer and birth defects."

"Great." Ashe was amazed at how unemotionally Rae was handling all this.
For someone who had just made a Geiger counter hit the red line, she
seemed totally unalarmed. He wished he felt the same way. Right now his
heart was beating at twice its normal rate, and he was sweating in spite
of the fact the room temperature was probably fifty degrees. Rae turned
and asked, "Wasn't this site abandoned for several years?" He nodded.
"It's a pretty obscure area, a great place to dump some toxic waste
without anyone ever suspecting a thing. A four- mile deep hole would
hold quite a bit."

"I suppose so. It would have had to have been dumped above ground,
though. The hole still had its original plug when we got here." Rae
frowned. "Then it happened another way. The sample I took was from
twenty-one thousand feet down, yet the surface dirt on your shoes seems
fine. At this point it's just a guess, but it sounds like the radiation
is from deep inside the well bore."

"How in the world could that happen?

Mark Olender, the geologist you replaced, read every log on this site.
every report ever filed. There was no mention of any problem with
radiation."

"Ashe, he may not have tested for it. Maybe this place glowed in the
dark all along."

"Not according to Mark, and he's one of the best." Suddenly suspicious,
Rae cocked her head to ask, "So why'd he leave?"

"Relax. Nothing sinister. He and his wife decided to retire to New
Zealand." Shivering, Rae smiled. "Smart man. It's probably warm there."
The return of her nonchalant attitude had a calming effect on Ashe.
Rubbing his stiff neck muscles, he replied, "I'm beginning to think we
should all move to New Zealand. But seriously, have you ever heard of
anything like this happening?"

"We studied several wells in the Anadarko Basin in college. I remember
they ran into some problems with poisonous sulfides, and extreme
temperatures, but I never read anything about the kind of radioactivity
we're up against. norm is pretty recent, and most of these wells were
drilled before testing for radioactivity was a standard procedure. Any
test would've shown this was a problem."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"If the Geiger counter is working right, we're  ..."

"In deep shit?" She nodded, then began pacing back and forth. She was
trying to ignore how cold her bare feet were, but it wasn't easy. "Are
there any nuclear reactors in this area?" she asked.

"Not that I know of." Suddenly, Rae threw back her head and laughed. "I
know! They must have done a thermonuclear frac job!" Ashes face was
drawn, his eyes wide. "What the hell is that?" She walked over and put
her hands on his face. "Lighten up, Ashe. It's just an old joke from
college. You know what a frac job is, right?"

"Of course. It's where fluid is pumped into a well at extremely high
pressure to fracture the reservoir rock so the oil or gas, or water, for
that matter, will flow to the surface more freely."

"Exactly. In the early nineteen hundreds, guys called 'shooters' used to
frac wells by dropping nitroglycerin in the hole and running like hell.
A guy in one of my classes joked that a thermonuclear frac job would
penetrate so well they could suck out every drop of oil there was in a
five-mile radius. The professor embarrassed the hell out of the poor
soul. He demanded to know why, other than the obvious reason, even a
tiny nuclear device couldn't be used to frac a well." Ashe was listening
intently. "So  ...  why couldn't it?"

"Because any nuclear device would contaminate the hole and make it
totally useless. If I remember right, the half- life of plutonium is
around 24,000 years, so anything that came out of that hole would be
radioactive for a long, long time."

"Anything?"

"Anything. Dirt, water, oil, gas  ...  every single thing."

"Are you sitting down?" Ashe asked.

The storm was interfering with the reception, making Nathan's voice
scratchy over the cellular phone. "I am now."

"Is Brada around? I think we're going to need some of R and D's help on
this problem."

"She's testifying before the grand jury today, but knowing her, she'll
still come by the office tonight."

"Do you happen to know what kind of insurance we're carrying on the HER
site?"

"Minimal. Workman's comp and blowout liability. Cut to the chase, Ashe.
Exactly what the hell is going on out there?"

"It's too soon to know, but we may have a major problem. There's a
thunderstorm on top of us right now, so it'll be a few hours before we
can get out of here. We'll have to go to Oklahoma City or Amarillo,
since I doubt if any of the small towns around here would have Geiger
counters."

"I know better than to ask this, but I'll take the bait. What do you
need more Geiger counters for?" Nathan asked, his patience growing thin.
"There was one in the geological test case in the doghouse. We're hoping
it isn't working right, since we got some very high radioactive readings
on a deep fluid sample." There was a long moment of static before Ashe
asked, "Nathan, are you still there?

Nathan?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. I'm thinking."

"Same here."

"Is the crew in any danger?"

"I don't know. Rae and I were the only ones working around the mud pit.
Some fluid splashed on her clothes, and we did tests on the sample for
about fifteen minutes before we discovered it might be radioactive."

"Didn't Mark Olender run some preliminary tests when we first opened the
hole?"

"Yes, he did."

"I'll get in touch with him.

Maybe he'll have an idea."

"Ask if he kept any of the original samples.

That way we could compare them, see if this is something new."

"I will," Nathan said. "Shouldn't the two of you be heading for a
hospital right now?"

"We talked about it, but we don't think it would do any good. Rae and I
both know that people working in potentially dangerous areas wear tags
that show how much radiation they've absorbed. That way they know when
to run like hell. If it turns out there really is a problem here, we'll
just have to live with not knowing how big a dose we got. I don't
suppose you know how much exposure is considered too much?"

"I haven't got a clue, but I'll get our people on it right away."

"We'd appreciate it. Meanwhile, I pulled everyone off the rig again. Rae
and I are going to sweep the area with the new Geiger counters as soon
as this blasted storm lets up. I'll probably send the rest of the crew
into town just to minimize questions. When we have a better idea of what
we're up against, I'll talk to them."

"I don't like the idea of the two of you sweeping the area. Be careful,
Ashe. Understand?"

"Whatever you say," he promised. "Rae and I also discussed the
possibility that this could be a result of deep- well injection of
hazardous waste. Rae tells me contaminated groundwater from nearby wells
could easily have seeped here."

"I'll have someone check the Corporation Commission records on the
entire area; then I'll run down to R and D and see if anyone can reach
one of our connections at the EPA. Maybe we can get some kind of useful
information on allowable radiation levels and exposure hazards."

"The EPA will shut us down so fast it'll make your head spin, and I
can't blame them." Ashe looked at Rae, who was sitting on a stool
watching him as though none of this were even slightly out of the
ordinary. After a few seconds Nathan softly said, "So that's what Andy
interrupted."

"What?" Ashe covered his other ear with his hand, trying to hear
Nathan's voice over the sound of the pounding rain on the metal roof.
"The bastards contaminated our well, and they did it in a way it can
never be used again. Son of a bitch!"

"Get real, Nathan. In order to do that, someone would've had to drop
some uranium or plutonium down the hole. Last time I checked, you
couldn't just stroll into Wal-Mart and pick up a six-pack of the stuff."

"And last time I checked, Petroco had offices in every third world
country you could think of--Iraq, Tunisia, you narne it. Besides, enough
money can buy anything."

"But we discovered this purely by accident. Our workers would have been
exposed for years before anyone thought to test for radiation poisoning.

Personally, I seriously doubt that anyone would have figured it out for
a long, long time." Nathan sounded as though he was talking more to
himself than to Ashe as he said, "Haven't you learned by now that they
always have something up their sleeve? Some inspector on their payroll
would've stumbled onto the radiation after they tipped him off. The
press would've been notified, and in a flurry of hot news stories they'd
have smeared our name and made sure we never drilled another well. In
fact, this will probably really piss them off." Ashe was both stunned
and amazed by Nathan's slant on the problem. "How's that?" he asked.

"Think about it. We'd have sunk millions more of rescue's dollars into
that site. First completing the original well, drilling the return well,
then installing the HER equipment. We would have spent--hell, you know
the budget for this project better than I do. I'm sure their idea was
for us to be shut down just about the time we were finally ready to make
a profit. Your discovery probably saved our asses." Ashe didn't know
what to believe at this point. Almost to himself he said, "If you say
so, Nathan. If you say so. I'll call you back as soon as we have better
information."

"I'll be waiting." Ashe punched the button on the cell phone and shook
his head. Rae stood and walked over to him. "Well, what did he have to
say?" she asked. She was standing so close Ashe caught the citrus
fragrance of shampoo in her wet hair. "He thinks someone dropped
radioactive material into the well on purpose the night Andy was
murdered." Rae raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything while she
contemplated the idea. A flash of light came through the windows,
followed closely by a clap of thunder. Just as she was about to answer,
the lights flickered, then died. "Maybe my father was right. This is
pretty rough country, isn't it?" Ashe sighed. "I never thought so
before, but I do now." Standing so close her breath was hot on his skin,
she looked him straight in the eye. "It would be a perfect way to do
it." For a second Ashe was confused, more by his urge to take her in his
arms than by her statement. Those sexy brown eyes seemed to be toying
with him in the dim afternoon light. Clearing his suddenly dry throat,
he softly asked, "It would be a perfect way to do what?"

"To sabotage a well. Isn't that what we're talking about?" / wish it
wasn't, he thought. Ashe lightly shook his head to clear his erotic
thoughts before he answered, "Yes. Why do you think so?"

"It's quite ingenious, actually. You drop a small amount of uranium or
plutonium, or maybe even some nuclear waste, down the hole and wait.
Days, months, or even years down the line, basically whenever you decide
the time is right, you make sure the EPA finds out there's a radiation
problem. Meanwhile, depending on the dosage, your enemy's employees will
be slowly exposed while they work. Most doctors never treat radiation
poisoning, so when the workers finally do get sick, the chances of their
problems being traced back here would be minimal. Even if there were
some physical evidence to begin with, it'd be long gone by the time
anyone caught on."

"How true."

"Sorry for eavesdropping, but what did Mr. Greenwall say about
insurance? If this site is ruined, will the loss be covered?" Ashe shook
his head. "Nope. It'd be a total loss." Rae hesitated. "Sorry, but ten
years of being an accountant makes me see things from a cash-flow angle.

Can RESCUE survive this kind of financial blow?"

"I certainly hope so." He looked at her and sighed. "I don't mean to
insult you, Rae, but you seem to be taking this awfully well. If I had
just started work and someone told me I might have been accidentally
subjected to even a mild dose of radiation, I'd probably be screaming
and running the other way.

Yet it's almost as if this mess makes you more comfortable." Rae smiled.

"The*other day when I ran into the forest was really not like me. It's
just, sometimes since my husband's death, certain things seem
overwhelming." Ashe pulled her into his arms. "We're all overwhelmed at
one time or another." Her fingers grazed his cheek before she rested her
face on his chest and relaxed. "Maybe the smart thing to do would be to
run away screaming, but I doubt it. RESCUE gave me a chance to do what I
love when no one else would. There's so much to discover here, and
especially now, it'll be unique. Besides, I'm learning to accept that
life is full of danger. If it wasn't radiation, it would be something
else--maybe not this second, but sooner or later." She shivered and
added, "If it wasn't so damn cold, I'd probably be happy as a clam."

"If you'll tell me where to find them, I'll go to your tent and get you
a change of clothes and some shoes."

"No way! I don't want you running around in this lightning. I won't
freeze to death." Reluctantly, he pulled away to search the trailer. In
a back closet was a clean, dry pair of overalls. Tossing them to her, he
said, "Here, change into these." Rae slipped into the narrow bathroom
and emerged a few minutes later looking slightly less disheveled.
"Thanks. I feel much better."

"I found these, too." He dangled several pocket hand warmers and
grinned.

Once he snapped them, the chemical reaction instantly began to
generate heat. Leading her to the tattered sofa, Ashe waited for her to
sit, then placed a warmer under each of her feet. "Mind if we share body
heat?" Grinning, Rae shook her head. Sitting at her side, Ashe wrapped
an arm around her and pulled her close. Wrestling with his conscience,
he wondered again how wise it was to get involved with an employee. He
was afraid it was too late. Softly stroking her hair, he said, "I'm
sorry."

"You shouldn't be. That is, unless you're the one who sabotaged the
well."

"That's not what I was talking about." With one finger he tilted her
head so their eyes met. "I meant for this." Pulling her closer, he
kissed her tenderly. He reveled in the softness of her mouth, the
willing acceptance he felt in her response. Moments later, she opened
her eyes to breathlessly ask, "What was it you were sorry for?" Still
tasting her, wanting her, he sighed. "For making things even more
complicated than they already are  ..." Chuck Kelmar leaned back in his
leather chair, propped his feet next to his overflowing in-box, then
grabbed the phone. "How'd the grand jury investigation go?" he asked.

"Better than we'd hoped. As we suspected, the girl didn't give RESCUE
any proof, so we're off the hook."

"What about the professor?"

"Our scholarly friend wasn't even called to testify."

"Any idea when the grand jury will make its decision?"

"It won't be long. They don't have shit to work with, so I'm betting
there won't be any indictments handed down."

"Good. Thanks for the prompt report." Kelmar cradled the phone and swung
his feet around. Standing, he stretched. Pretty soon RESCUE would be
history, brought to its knees just as they'd been planning for years,
thanks to the invaluable help from one of rescue's own trusted
employees. The phone buzzed again. Kelmar picked up the receiver. "Yes."

"It's Karl. I just got a call from Elk City from our man on the RESCUE
crew."

"Really? So soon?"

"Rig 114 was shut down again a few hours ago."

"What's the reason this time?"

"That's what's so interesting. There really wasn't a reason, at least
not a mechanical one." Kelmar chuckled, his voice laced with sarcasm as
he said, "You know, Karl, they aren't ever going to get those holes
drilled if they don't stop shutting down every other day. They might as
well be standing out there throwing handfuls of hundred-dollar bills
down the hole every hour."

"It's a real shame, isn't it Chuck?" Karl Ross snickered. "It sure is."
Although physically exhausted from traveling for two days, he was too
excited about planning his next job to rest. The very idea was
tantalizing.

Getting Greenwall out of the picture for a while, but not permanently,
certainly presented a challenge. After all, the job would have to be
skillfully arranged since, for once, he and the target were on the same
side. Revenge against Petroco came in many forms--some short-term, while
others didn't reap benefits for years. Manipulating both sides was
becoming quite a rush. Using Petroco's own funds to slowly destroy them
was half the fun. Glancing at his reflection in the rearview mirror, he
noted his hair was still perfectly slicked back and his tie was
impeccably knotted. This time everything would be perfect. With two to
three weeks to plan, he had plenty of time to devise something clever,
which was the only choice in this situation. The parking lot of RESCUE,
Inc., was different from any he'd ever seen. Near the building were bike
racks, and even though it was almost six p.m. on a business day, they
were actually full of bicycles. Beside them were about twenty spaces for
mopeds and motorcycles, and most of those were occupied, too. The few
cars scattered about the lot were fuel-efficient models, and a couple
even appeared to be some sort of solar-powered prototypes. Smiling, he
proudly realized these people actually practiced what they preached, and
they were willing to work long hours to prove it. Environmental
activists like myself, he thought. It occurred to him how angry his
RESCUE contact would be, though, if she knew he handled special jobs for
Petroco, charging them millions of dollars to do their dirty deeds. But
she'd understand when she saw the proof. Every call, every job, had been
recorded to use against them when the time finally came. Someday she'll
realize how much I've done to help her accomplish our goals. Someday
Petroco will be history, thanks to the undeniable evidence I've
accumulated. Then they'll all understand. I'll be worshiped like a god.

Releasing the trunk from inside, he stepped out and watched it slowly
open. Glancing around once again, he realized he might need a different
car to pull off this job, one that wouldn't command so much attention if
he ever found the need to follow Greenwall. He thought about the days
ahead. This would undoubtedly be one of the most interesting jobs, a
work of art that would go down in history. For the first time he didn't
need any false id's or cover stories. He actually had a valid business
reason for being at RESCUE, a solid alibi that would hold up under even
the closest scrutiny. Even so, he rubbed the clearly sheathed tips of
his fingers together and was glad he had still taken a few precautions.

Peering into the trunk, he wondered if he could find a way to use the
lethal ice molds again. It was always dangerous to repeat a tactic, but
these were so special, so truly symbolic of everything he stood
for--pure, sharp, accurate, even environmentally sound--that he had to
use them again. Although he'd left the larger pieces of surveillance
equipment at the hotel, the crossbow was by far his favorite. It excited
him to know the weapon was tucked in the hidden compartment just inches
from his fingertips. After he grabbed his briefcase, he softly shut the
trunk, pushed the button to arm the car alarm, and walked briskly to the
building. The sun was beginning to set, bathing the windows in
breathtaking slashes of reds and golds. Most people would have stopped
and stared, but he totally ignored the sight. Little else eluded his
attention, even though his step was quick. He noticed the relatively
simple security system, the lack of guards, the types of glass used on
the windows, the after-hours magnetic identification setup. Once inside
the lobby, he was only momentarily taken back by the transformation of
the interior. The waterfall and foliage provided him a reason to slow
down, to observe. Pretending to be fascinated, he appeared to study the
plants and the strange walls, although he was actually noting the exact
locations of several key items. As soon as he was back in his hotel, he
would carefully diagram the position of everything in the lobby--the
stairway, the elevators, the doors. He realized this job might be easier
than he thought. There didn't appear to be much security at all. No
cameras, no guards. He was dealing with trustworthy souls. After a few
minutes he glanced at his watch and went to the company marquis. Nathan
Greenwall was listed as President and CEO, and his office was shown as
Suite 500. He walked to the stairs and effortlessly climbed five
flights. Being in top physical shape was one of the many things he
demanded of himself. When he reached the end of the hallway, he stopped
at Dinell Blanchard's desk to announce his arrival, even though it was
obvious. He knew Greenwall was already in his office, since he could see
him through the interior glass walls, and the familiar sound of the
secretary's voice confirmed he was right where he should be. Extending
his arm to shake her hand firmly, he said, "Good evening. My name is
Harvey Walters. I'm here to see Mr. Greenwall." Dinell cocked her head
and smiled at him the way old friends do when they cross paths. "It's
been a long time, Mr. Walters. I don't suppose you remember me." His
eyes narrowed as he returned her smile. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I really
don't have a very good memory for names. In fact, I'm much better at
recognizing voices." Nodding, she said, "As busy as you are, I'm not
surprised. I'll bet you do most of your business on the phone. I've
heard your company is doing quite well. Congratulations."

"Thank you." Dinell stood to escort him inside. "Mr. Greenwall's
expecting you. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," he replied. Following her into the office, he watched
the walls become opaque as she excused herself. Nodding in approval, he
asked, "Liquid crystals?"

"Exactly." Nathan crossed the room to greet him warmly. "After all these
years, it's finally good to be able to put a face with your name."

"I feel the same way." So far, so good, he thought as he pulled his hand
away from Nathan's. He didn't notice the polymer sheath on my
fingertips. "Sit down. Can I get you anything? We make a mean raspberry
sparkling water here. Plus there's a cafeteria in the building if you're
hungry."

"It's very kind of you to offer, but no, thank you. I really don't want
to take up much of your time. I know you're a busy man. Basically, I'm
just here to tell you how much all of us at Pure Air Systems appreciate
your business."

"You have a good line of products. We're happy to be able to use them."

"The new entrance to your building is even more impressive than I'd
heard. It's no wonder your electrostatic orders have been down this
year."

"The Natureair system does work wonders, but we still use your company's
filters in all our Solar and Wind products. They keep the engines free
of dirt and dust. Our engineers estimate they more than triple the life
of the mechanical parts."

"I'm glad we could work with you. By the way, don't get me wrong, even
with the decrease in rescue's orders, you're still one of our best
clients. In fact, that's why I'm here." He opened his briefcase and slid
out several small devices. "We'd like you to personally have our latest
products to test." . He set them on Nathan's desk. One was the size of a
pack of chewing gum, the others about the size of packs of cigarettes.
Picking up the smallest one, Walters said, "This is for your car. Simply
plug it into the cigarette lighter, and it will constantly filter the
air inside the vehicle.

You'll be amazed how much air pollution it will eliminate, not to
mention allergens and carbon monoxide." Walters picked up one of the
larger devices and continued, "These babies plug into any outlet in your
house. Each one will keep a forty-by-forty room totally free of air
impurities for over a year. I've slept with one in my bedroom for the
last six months, and I haven't woken up with a headache since I
installed it. I brought five for you to try, but if you need more, I'll
be happy to send them."

"Five is plenty. I'm still a bachelor, so I don't have a very big
place."

"I know how that goes. I'm hardly ever in my own apartment."

"I spend too much time on the road. I'm sure you know how it goes ..."
His voice trailed off, and he quickly changed the subject by adding, "I
must be more tired from the drive down than I thought. I almost forgot
to take care of your office." Walters removed one more of the larger
devices from his briefcase and slid it into a wall socket in the corner
of the room. "Considering the quality of air in this building, it's
probably a waste of time, but it can't hurt." "Thanks again," Nathan
said. Walters stood and walked toward Nathan's desk, extending his hand.
"I'd best be going now. If RESCUE needs anything, just give me or one of
my assistants a call. Our engineers would love to help in any phase of
your designs that we can." He slid his briefcase off Nathan's desk,
dangling it at his side as he started to leave. "I'll let my people
know," Nathan said. As they shook hands, the briefcase Walters held
popped open and its contents spilled onto the carpet. Both men squatted,
rounding up the stray items. Walters apologized, "I'm so sorry. The
latches on this thing are getting to be pretty unreliable."

"No harm done," Nathan said as he helpfully laid the last item, a
leather-bound calendar, back in the briefcase. "Thanks.

I'll be in touch. And let me know how the new filter prototypes work.

We're hoping to have a line tooled to manufacture them within the next
six months."

"I'm looking forward to trying them. Are you flying out this afternoon?"
Nathan asked as they walked toward the door. "No. I have six different
customers to meet, plus I decided to take a few days off while I'm here,
so I drove." Nathan nodded. "California is certainly the right place to
vacation. Enjoy your trip." Walters smiled. "I will.

In fact, I expect it to be quite an experience." As he crossed the
office, the smile never left his face. Everything had gone perfectly. On
the calendar inside his briefcase were Nathan's fingerprints; implanted
in the car filter was a homing device; nestled inside the other filters
were sophisticated listening devices; and between the thumb and
forefinger of his left hand were several carpet fibers from rescue's
plush executive suite. He wasn't sure which devices he might need, but
now he had every base covered. Nathan opened the door, and the two men
walked through. Dinell was still sitting at her desk, typing on the
computer. "Doesn't anyone who works here ever go home on time?" Walters
asked. Chuckling, Nathan replied, "Dinell is one of our best employees.

She arrives before everyone else, and she usually won't leave until I
do. Right?" Dinell smiled and shrugged. "I wouldn't want to miss
anything important, now would I?" Walters slipped her one of his
business cards, winking playfully as he crossed the room. "If you ever
decide to leave, I know a great place you could work." She nodded
politely, and their eyes held for a few moments before he slipped into
the hall. Walters' step was light as he walked slowly through the
building's entryway. It truly was magnificent. Studying it again, he was
fascinated by the marriage of nature and architecture. When he was
finally satisfied he could diagram the basic design, he opened the door
and stepped into the growing darkness. The sun was already well below
the horizon, causing the lights in the parking lot to spark to life.

Without pulling the small plastic bag out of his pocket, he flicked the
carpet fibers inside, then sealed it. The thin coat of polymer on his
fingertips was beginning to irritate him, so he roughly rubbed his
fingers together, effectively shredding the thin substance. Layers of
the clear coating fell imperceptibly to the ground as he walked. He was
confident he hadn't left any fingerprints behind. Walters was deep in
thought as he crossed the parking lot. So deep Chat when he reached the
place where he'd left the Lincoln a short time ago, he was certain he
had merely forgotten where it was parked. The lot wasn't very large, so
he walked down each row. With every step his heart pounded a little
harder. By the time he slowly circled the entire lot twice, he was a
nervous wreck. His entire body was moist with a thin layer of sweat.

Running his palm across his brow, he could not have cared less that the
Lincoln was gone, but he cared greatly about the item tucked inside the
hidden compartment of its trunk--the only thing in the universe that
directly tied him to the murder of two U.S. senators.


Chapter 5.



early morning tranquility made Rae painfully aware that she and Ashe
were the only people left in the camp. A misty shroud of chilly fog
seemed to taunt their isolation, making her shiver and pull her jacket
firmly around her neck to protect against both the elements and her
overactive imagination. Glancing out the window of the old trailer, she
was anxious to see Ashe again. For the tenth time that morning she
fought the urge to go to his tent and wake him in ways she'd only
dreamed of since she lost her husband. Confusing thoughts of death added
to the emotional upheaval she experienced every time she laid eyes on
Ashe. Each time she let her guard slip, a promise made on a cold, damp
morning much like this one would taunt her. A promise from her soul to
her heart that she'd never allow herself to be hurt like that again.

Never. Watching the sun give birth to what she was certain would be
another fascinating day made Rae almost forget there could be an
invisible, silent killer in the ground just a few feet away. She was so
lost in her thoughts, the sound of the door swinging open and Ashes
voice startled her. "Well, hello! When did you get back?" he asked with
a broad smile. Quickly regaining her composure, Rae replied, "About an
hour ago. Did you sleep well?"

"You should've come to wake me up," he teased. "Believe me, I thought
about it. But I was too anxious to use the new equipment." His eyes
locked on hers. "And?"

"The new Geiger counter confirmed that parts of the site actually are
radioactive."

"Then I'd better call the crew at the motel. Looks like we're out of
business for a while."

"Here, put this on." She handed him a small badge with a clip on the
end, then continued, "The badges will tell us if our exposure level
reaches a dangerous zone. Keep it on at all times you're in the area,
even when you're asleep. Okay?"

"Whatever you say. Will you be able to tell if someone sabotaged the
well?"

"Probably. Nathan faxed me the results of the tests performed by Mark
Olender. Not surprisingly, he did test for radioactivity two years ago,
before RESCUE bid on the land and mineral rights for the HER project.
His work seems to be very thorough. All the tests were negative, well
within the acceptable normal range." Ashe asked, "Is it possible to
develop naturally occurring problems, let's say, within the last two
years?"

"Anything is possible, but in this case it'd be highly improbable. With
plutonium's half-life being over twenty thousand years, the chances of a
high-speed molecular breakdown suddenly beginning in the last two years
would be phenomenal.

Especially considering the original dry hole was drilled almost
twenty-five years ago." Ashe laughed. "You're beginning to sound more
like a nuclear physicist than a geologist." Wrapping her arms around his
neck, she kissed him lightly. "I learn fast." "I'll say," he said,
pulling her closer. Twisting away, Rae smiled to hide the sudden surge
of uneasiness that washed over her. Part of her wanted to melt into his
arms, while another part screamed at her to run away. Stammering, she
explained, "As much as I hate to say this, I'm afraid I have a ton of
work to do."

"I'll help," he offered. "No!" Realizing she sounded a bit overbearing,
she softened. "Right now I'm afraid I won't be able to concentrate if
you're too close." Pushing open the door, Ashe cocked his head and
grinned. "I believe I'll take that as a compliment."

"As you should!" The blast of cold air felt good on Rae's flushed cheeks
as she rushed outside and crossed the camp. Another, more powerful flash
of anxiety struck her, twisting her stomach into a knot. What if it
happens again? What if he dies? Boy can I live through that kind of
agony? After taking a taxi to his hotel, Walters settled in for a long
night. Hour after hour he paced as he listened to the police scanner for
any report on a stolen Lincoln. Twenty- twenty hindsight tortured him as
he listened to the endless chatter. Why didn't I rig the damned car with
a tracking device? My secretary told them it was stolen from Colorado
yesterday, but can they prove it was actually stolen here? How did the
son of a bitch get around the alarm system? What will happen if the
police recover it and find the hidden compartment? Suddenly Walters
stopped, the answer clear. The only option was to cut his losses and get
out of town. He would have to take care of greenwall, and he'd have to do
it right now. Forty-eight hours was as long as he dared to risk. The
luxury of waiting a few weeks was no longer an option, but then again,
lately he'd done some of his best work under pressure. It forced him to
be more creative, more adaptable. Looking out the window, he smiled at
the thought of getting Greenwall out of the way, even if it was only
temporary. In fact, he was confident everything would work out
perfectly. The police scanner crackled to life at five a.m. Every nerve
in his body tingled as he listened to the discussion of the newly
discovered crash site. The description matched his Lincoln perfectly,
right down to the out-of-state tags. A boy was dead at the scene,
impaled on a small tree trunk after being thrown clear of the car as it
hurdled down an embankment. Inside the car they had found empty beer
bottles and a half-empty whiskey bottle. When the lieutenant arrived on
the scene, Walters switched to his frequency so he could follow the
conversation of the officers working the wreck. On the edge of his seat,
he waited to hear the words he dreaded. Waited to hear they had found
the weapon, the secret compartment in the trunk. An hour passed and no
one ever mentioned it. But some of what they said chilled him to the
bone: The coroner said the dead kid was a twelve- year-old named Cory
Williams, and they were pretty sure he wasn't the driver. Whoever drove
that car has my crossbow. But not for long! Across the road from the
crashed Lincoln, a lanky sixteen- year-old was crouched behind the
bushes, his entire body trembling. The bump on his forehead no longer
pounded so hard he couldn't see or hear. Instead, the ache had become
dull, somehow numbing most of his face. He couldn't move his left arm
without fiery pain shooting through his entire being, so he sat
motionlessly and listened, even though what he heard made him nauseous.

Beside him was the dented silver metallic case that held the fancy
weapon his brother had thought was so cool. After running a gloved
finger across the shiny lid, he wiped away a tear and prayed it was all
just a bad dream. The worst dream ever. He glanced at his hand. It
seemed foreign--so foreign he stared at it. Gloves. We wore gloves to
steal the car. To make sure we didn't leave fingerprints. This isn't a
nightmare! Jace Williams was old enough to know that stealing a car
could only mean trouble. He still couldn't believe he'd done it. And
why? To impress his baby brother! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! His mother was
going to kill him! Voices carried on the morning breeze as the officers
talked among themselves and on their radios. He heard his brother's name
mentioned, and wondered how they knew it. Even though he'd known in his
heart his brother was dead when he saw that thing poking through the
middle of him in the dark, the horrible reality didn't sink in until he
heard the coroner callously say he wouldn't be eating shish kabob for a
few days. The shock and pain was too much for Jace to bear. He slumped
sideways onto the brush-covered ground, tears streaking his dark skin as
he silently sobbed. Her good boys, Mama always called them. She raised
good boys who didn't get in trouble like those stupid kids who ran in
gangs. "Jesus," Jace cried. "Why him? Why didn't you just take me?"
Walters was unrecognizable in the rented van parked down the street from
Nathan's house. His hair and eyes were now almost black, thanks to a
quick stop at a local drugstore and colored contact lenses. The shopping
spree yesterday ensured his entire look was different, his imposing suit
and tie replaced by a breezy casual outfit, complete with sunglasses and
a baseball cap. Thanks to the listening devices, he already knew his
target's plans for the day. Walters expertly tailed Greenwall as he left
his house, drove straight to RESCUE, and went inside. When he was sure
it was safe, he pulled into rescue's parking lot and chose a space a few
rows behind Greenwall's car. He shut off the motor and crawled through
the empty gap behind the front seats, leaving the police scanner on so
he could monitor it. The rented mini-van was merely a shell, but it
suited his needs perfectly. It was light blue, a shade that blended
easily into traffic and provided excellent cover. Walters perched near
the small window in the back of the passenger side and withdrew his
binoculars. From a distance his van appeared to be empty, but from
inside he could easily watch both the main entrance to the building and
Greenwall's car. After tinkering with the receiver to find the right
frequency, he slid on the headphones and waited. It was only a couple of
minutes before he heard Nathan's voice through the static. Walters
listened as Green- wall greeted Dinell and she informed him of his
agenda for the day. For several hours he watched and listened.

Greenwall's conversations were, for the most pan, unbelievably boring.

Fatigue from the sleepless night was rapidly catching up with Walters,
and he mentally fought to stay awake by concentrating on clever ways to
only temporarily dispose of Greenwall. Just as he was about to lose the
battle with fatigue and nod off, a large white bus lumbered into the
parking lot. It pulled slowly around to the front entry and stopped.

Walters immediately perked up. His view of the front door was now
blocked, forcing him to reevaluate his observation point. Even more
intriguing, the vehicle blocking his view was an American Red Cross
Bloodmobile, and two volunteers were unfurling a banner that read give
the gift of life--blood drive today. At the same time, the conversation
in Greenwall's office had suddenly become downright interesting. Pushing
the Record button, he thought the folks at Petroco might be willing to
pay to hear it. A smile creased Walters' weary face. If he was lucky,
the solution to his problem had just fallen in his lap. His ingenious
idea would keep Greenwall out of the way for quite some time and advance
his own cause, while sucking money out of Petroco for worthless
information. God, I'm good! "Can you believe this crap?" Dinell tossed
the Wall Street Journal onto Nathan's desk. With trembling hands she
paced across his office, her anger growing with each step. It took all
her strength to remain silent as Nathan read the short article out loud.

"Petroco announced late yesterday that Charles 'Chuck' Kelmar has been
appointed President and Chief Executive Officer of the corporation. "Mr.
Kelmar has held various positions in the oil and gas industry for over
ten years, including his last position as Vice President of Marketing
for Petroco. He holds a degree in petroleum engineering, and has been
with the corporation for eight years. "Mr. Kelmar was in Las Vegas
attending the National Conference of Petroleum Leaders when the
announcement was made. In a telephone interview he said, "I intend to
follow in the footsteps of my predecessor, who has led this corporation
to greatness with a firm but gentle hand. My hope is to guide with the
strength 1 find in God, and to apply His standards to our business each
and every day."

" When Nathan finished reading, he leaned back in his chair. "Don't tell
me Kelmar's promotion caught you by surprise, Dinell." She scowled.
"With someone like Kelmar at the helm, God only knows what Petroco will
try to get away with." Nathan shook his head and slowly tore the article
out of the newspaper. He held it in the palm of his hand, then crumpled
it into a tiny ball. "I can't believe he'd stoop to using bible belt
tactics. Most of the stockholders of Petroco are God-fearing
Midwesterners and Southern Baptists. He's really kissing up to his
public." His voice dropped to a whisper as he added, "A bullet between
the eyes would solve the problem." She slumped onto the sofa.

"What?"

"Nothing," Nathan snapped. "Just wishful thinking." Dinell sat up a
little straighter. "I certainly hope the public figures out what kind of
asshole he really is before he manages to screw up the world even more
than he already has." Nathan stood, shaking his head as he looked out
the window. "I honestly believe people get what they deserve in the long
run. Kelmar's screwed so many people, sooner or later it will catch up
to him." He turned and tossed the wadded article toward the trash can.
"Just wait and see. He'll get his."

"We can always hope," Dinell said. "Sherrie Rosen called me at home last
night. Looks like it's almost time for me to head to D.C. to try to
defeat the Evans-Giles bill. Book me a flight for day after tomorrow."

"Okay." Nathan glanced out his window. "You'll have to excuse me. The
Bloodmobile is here."

"I'm amazed that you still donate every sixty days." He nodded. "I'd
donate every week if they'd let me. It's the least I can do." She stood
and walked to him, wringing her moist hands. "You still miss her, don't
you?"

"Every day. My mother was quite a lady." Dinell shifted nervously,
unable to return his steady gaze. "That's true. Have you ever heard any
more about the cleanup of the toxic waste that made her sick?"

"The city bought the entire chunk of land, then just fenced it off. I'm
sure that was cheaper than trying to remove all the chemicals. The
problem is, rainwater still carries the same pollutants downstream. Who
knows how many more people will have to die of leukemia before they
figure out a better solution?"

"You've done all you can." As he walked out of his office, he wondered,
"Have I?" Rae peeled off the protective suit before she stepped inside
the motor home. She was grinning, stepping as lightly as a teenager.
"I've got good news," she said. Ashe jumped up and excitedly asked, "The
site isn't as contaminated as you first thought?

We can keep drilling?" She frowned at him and shook her head. "Sorry. I
said it was good news, not a miracle." Rae walked over and stood next to
him, his face reflecting utter frustration. "See this?" She held up her
safety badge. It showed a small color change, but most of it was still
black. "I wore it on the outside of the protective suit the entire time
I tested the area." She glanced at her watch. "I spent over an hour on
or around the rig. The other half hour was spent testing random points
from the rest of the camp area." She sighed at his blank expression.
"Don't you see? This badge didn't register a lethal dose of radiation,
or even a particularly dangerous level. We can relax now.

Since I was handling only a small amount of the material from the mud
pit for around fifteen minutes, neither of us should have any long-term
exposure problems." At his gloomy expression, she added, "Gee, I'm glad
I didn't have really bad news. If you get any more excited, you might
accidentally regain consciousness." Ashe said, "Sorry. I was just on the
phone with Nathan discussing whether this problem could be fixed, or if
it would be the end of the HER project."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but so far all my tests indicate
that the source of radioactivity is deep inside the hole. In fact, one
of the preliminary tests shows that at the top of the well the reading
is over 3,500 mbq. That's more than four times the regulated rate for
Naturally Occurring Radioactive Material. I have a feeling that if we
could get a reading from the bottom of the hole, it would be much, much
worse." Ashe stiffened, his eyes suddenly alert. "So what you're saying
is the well was sabotaged." She nodded. "I'd bet my life on it."

"But isn't there some way to fix this? Couldn't we extract the
radioactive material from down the hole and then dispose of it like
hazardous waste?" She shook her head sadly.

"I've been wondering the same thing. There are several problems. First
of all, it would be dangerous for anyone to work the equipment. Not only
would RESCUE be opening the door for a string of lawsuits, you'd never
get government approval. "Then there's the problem of spreading the
contamination. We don't know what kind of material we're dealing with,
there's no easy way to find out, and it would be very expensive to try.
The source is twenty to twenty-five thousand feet down, so it would be
virtually impossible to deal with it in any economically feasible way.
If the contaminant is at the bottom of the hole, each time anything is
brought out, it would spread more of the hazardous material upward.

The cost of disposing of whatever comes out of there would be
astronomical." Ashe fumed, "Those bastards! Worthless, no-good
bastards." He leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling, his
hands clenched as though every ounce of his anger abruptly demanded an
outlet. Suddenly slamming a fist through the thin inner wall of the
mobile home's makeshift bedroom, he seethed, "Nathan was right.

Petroco paid someone to come that night. Andy got in the way, so one of
their son of a bitch hired hands killed him." Ashe turned, his face dark
with rage. "They won't get away with this!" Rae watched in stunned
silence as he paced back and forth. After a few moments she hesitantly
asked, "Is the old Ashe back yet?" Stopping in his tracks, he nodded. "I
suppose so. Who was that other guy?"

"I don't know, but I wouldn't want to tangle with him." Painfully
stretching his bruised fingers, he laughed and said, "Neither would I."
It was just after sunset when the Bloodmobile finally pulled into the
parking lot of the Red Cross regional headquarters building. With great
care it was backed into its parking slot under a protective awning. The
two volunteer nurses were exhausted, but pleased with the day's
excellent turnout as they opened the doors. Each crawled slowly out of
the vehicle, ready to wrap up a long day of work. An instant after the
first woman stepped onto the.-pavement, she felt a sharp sting in the
back of her neck. She barely had enough time to swat at the source of
her pain before she lost consciousness and slumped onto the concrete.
Less than a minute later, the driver came around from behind the
Bloodmobile, spotting her friend lying on the ground. Before she could
make a sound, she, too, felt a burning sting, then crumpled limply onto
the pavement. Walters watched for a few moments, making certain no one
was going to come to their aid.

After tucking the sophisticated blowgun into his belt, he rushed to
where the two women lay motionless. The darts were only an inch long,
and he carefully pulled one out of the back of the second victim's neck.

The first woman had managed to knock out the dart that hit her, and he
searched frantically for it for several seconds. He couldn't leave
without both of them. When he finally rolled her over, the silver needle
gleamed on the pavement beneath her shoulder. After sticking both darts
firmly into the cork on the side of the blowgun, he pulled the women
behind the vehicle, where they would be out of sight while he worked. In
less than five minutes, he quietly trashed the inside of the
Bloodmobile. Purposely leaving the impression he was searching for
drugs, he carefully chose a few of the day's generously donated blood
supply to take with him making certain Greenwall's was one of them.

Grabbing an odd selection of needles and medical supplies, he zipped the
loot inside his jacket, then nonchalantly walked into the quiet night.

It was dark by the time he reached the rented van parked several blocks
away. He glanced at his watch. If everything went as planned, the second
part of the job would be finished in less than twenty-four hours.

Hopefully, by then he'd have some idea exactly what the finishing touch
would be that could tie this reckless plan together. Business came
first, of course. Only when it was finished could he set his sights on
finding the police department's prime suspect in the car theft, Jace
Williams didn't know it yet, but he'd stolen the wrong person's car, and
it was going to cost him more than just his brother's life.


Chapter 6.


Chuck Kelmar kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the oversize bed,
never taking his eyes off the voluptuous woman at his side. He had no
idea what her name was, and didn't really give a damn if he ever found
out. The only thing he did care about was whether she had a condom with
her. He was horny, not stupid. "Well, do you have one or not?" The tall
redhead looked at him as if he were crazy. "One what?" Kelmar knew when
he'd met her downstairs in the casino she wasn't exactly brilliant, but
her tantalizing figure and obvious willingness more than made up for her
lack of brains. "A rubber, sweetheart. We need a rubber. Ever heard of
safe sex?" She abruptly stopped her clumsy yet still provocative
striptease. "You mean you don't have one?" He consciously shifted into
his persuasive routine, hiding his irritation as he convincingly
repeated his standard lie. "Remember what I told you downstairs,
sweetie? I'm married. Not only am I married, but I'm married to a woman
who hates sex. She thinks doing it once a month, straight missionary
style, is too demanding. I haven't bought a condom in years. I just need
someone to help me celebrate my big promotion. Couldn't you at least
give me a blow job? I'll pay you."

"You poor baby." She walked to him and bent over, her ample cleavage
just inches from his face. "I know you think I do this kinda thing all
the time, but I don't!" Standing, she angrily started to button her
blouse. "I'm outta here." Kelmar grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her
onto the bed next to him. It took all his willpower to control his
rising temper. "We can still have fun, even without a rubber." She tried
to pull away, but he held her down with one hand, while ripping away her
blouse and bra with his other until her breasts were free. He rolled
easily on top of her, his weight keeping her in place while he licked
and bit her neck and nipples. She struggled at first, then began to
respond beneath him. A moan escaped her lips, and he relaxed his hold on
her arms. "Let me help you out of those," she said breathlessly, her
fingers nimbly unzipping his slacks when he freed her hands. He
anxiously stood, but when the slacks fell around his ankles, she swiftly
landed three solid, totally unexpected kicks. The first one caught
Kelmar off guard, sending him flying backward to the floor. He was not
only shocked, his ankles were hopelessly tangled in his pants, leaving
him vulnerable. By the time he saw the second kick coming, it was too
late for him to defend himself. The redhead's heel smashed his testicles
like overripe tomatoes, shooting waves of nausea through him. Even as he
recoiled from the second kick, she followed with another, this one
catching him under the chin and snapping his head backward. Reaching
down, she dug her long scarlet fingernails across his face, leaving thin
trails of blood. While he lay semiconscious and gagging on the carpet
she said, "If you call the police, I'll scream rape all the way to the
courthouse." She waved her hand back and forth.

"I've even got your precious skin buried under my nails as evidence." He
was in the fetal position, so she grabbed his slacks and yanked them.

Digging out his wallet, she stuffed all his money into her purse, then
went to the closet. Her blouse was ripped, so she dropped it on the
floor and put on one of his freshly starched, designer dress shirts.

Keeping an eye on his unmoving form, she rolled up the sleeves, knotted
it at her slender waist, and gathered the rest of her things in her
arms. A knock at the door made her freeze in her tracks. Peering through
the peephole, she was relieved to see it was only a hotel employee. When
she threw open the door, he started to speak, but stopped when he saw
the man on the floor. His eyes locked on hers as he asked, "Are you all
right?" Even though his eyes were distorted by thick horned-rimmed
glasses, a primordial shiver still ran down her spine as her instincts
reacted to his nearness. She gingerly nodded to answer his question.

"Looks like today's your lucky day. I'll make sure he never bothers you
again." Although his words weren't threatening, those eyes made her
certain she was in more danger than she'd ever been in her whole life.

Clutching her purse to her chest, she squeezed past him to run to the
elevator. Furiously slapping the Lobby button until the doors finally
slid closed, she swallowed hard. God, two creeps in one night. I gotta
get out of this town! Unfortunately, less than ten minutes later she
realized that was not meant to be--tonight or ever. The next thing
Kelmar knew, the phone was ringing. He must have passed out, he couldn't
really tell. Grabbing the receiver, he mumbled, "This better be good."

"Chuck, how's it going? Are you believing this shit? You're actually the
president! God, I'm jealous. Listen, I know it's getting late there, but
I figured you'd be partying hard tonight." Rolling painfully onto his
butt, Kelmar fought down the urge to moan as he asked, "Who the hell is
this?"

"It's Karl. Karl Ross. Are you okay? Your voice sounds just like it did
a few years back when you tried to ride that mechanical bull down at
Gilley's. If I remember right, the bull won."

"That pretty much describes how I feel. Except that night at least I was
smart enough to get stinking drunk first."

"What happened?" Kelmar was beginning to think his balls might not
explode if he moved, so he carefully shifted his weight. "Don't worry
about it. What did you want?"

"I got a report today on the RESCUE site that I knew you'd be interested
in. I've been trying to reach you all day. It really isn't anything I
care to leave in a message, if you get my drift."

"Well? What is it?"

"They've shut it down! The last RESCUE people packed up and left. And
get this--the entire site is blocked off with black and gold warning
signs that say, extreme danger-- hazardous materials--do not enter. Our
inside man says they're calling it quits. What the hell do you think is
going on?" A smile crawled through the pain as he lied, "I haven't got a
clue, but it sounds like they just bought themselves a friggin' drilling
rig. Have our legal department look into it." There was a strange sound
behind him, a kind of dull thud. Realizing he wasn't alone, he quickly
said, "I'll call you tomorrow." Without even attempting to stand
upright, Kelmar staggered toward the bathroom, where he was sure he
would find the bitch that did this to him. Instead, it was a man in a
crisp black suit. Kelmar was too shocked to think fast. The man didn't
seem dangerous. In fact, he was average-looking, wearing thick
horn-rimmed glasses. But his hands were sheathed in surgical gloves, and
he was holding a vial of a dark red liquid--Blood! "What the hell--?"
Kelmar started to ask, but the expertly placed blow to his neck
instantly severed his words. Brada's eyes were wide when she walked into
Nathan's office the next morning. He was asleep on his couch, and as she
came in, he stretched and yawned. The L.A. Times was folded in her arms
and held firmly against her chest. Quietly she asked, "Did you read the
newspaper or watch the morning news yet?" Nathan was haggard-looking,
still wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before. Running stiff
fingers through his hair, he asked, "Do I look like I have?" She shook
her head. "Rough night?" He slowly stood and walked to the window as he
rubbed his eyes. "Couldn't sleep, so I came back here. I must have dozed
off reading the latest information on the HER site. It doesn't look
good, you know." When he turned toward her, Brada gasped. "Nathan! What
happened to your arm?" Nathan looked down, as shocked as she was to see
a blood stain on the forearm of his shirt. "What the hell?" he muttered.

As he pulled the shin away from his skin, the crusty wound started to
bleed again. The shirt and the first few layers of skin appeared to have
a three-inch cut. The wound wasn't deep, it was clean and straight, as
though it had been inflicted by a razor-sharp object. Brada grabbed some
tissues and handed them to Nathan. "How did this happen?" A nervous
laugh escaped his throat. "I know this sounds crazy, but I thought it
was just a bad dream."

"Looks like a damned realistic dream to me." He yawned and mumbled,
"I'll say."

"Tell me about it," she said, folding several tissues together to form a
makeshift bandage. "I was asleep on the sofa last night when I thought I
heard someone coming through my office door." Brada stopped and looked
at him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I laid absolutely still. I figured they'd leave when they saw
me. When I barely opened my eyes, 1 thought I saw something white--a rag
or piece of cloth coming | toward my face."

"And?"

"And nothing.

That's all I remember." "So how'd you cut your arm?" she asked. ; He
shook his head and shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me." Brada laughed.

"Nathan, old pal, I think you need to take that vacation you've been
putting off. Right away. If someone had broken in here, the security
alarm would've been going crazy. I must admit, though, you have quite an
imagination." She walked to his desk and picked up an empty bottle of
Dominus wine from the corner. "Since when do you drink?"

"I had a headache last night. I thought it would take the edge off. I
would've sworn I only had one glass, though. There's no way I finished
off the whole thing, even though my head does feel like it's going to
implode." Turning the bottle upside down, she skeptically raised her
eyebrows when not even a drop fell onto the desk. "Dominus, no less. At
least you have exquisite taste. A bad memory maybe, but good taste."

"Not me. That was delivered here yesterday." He rubbed his temples as he
added, "And no, I don't know who sent it. Dinell's been working way too
hard, so I insisted she take the afternoon off. When I got back here
last night, it was on my desk with a note chat said, "Relax and enjoy."
Okay?" Brada put the bottle in his trash can. "Okay, I'm not trying to
pry. It's just, well  ..." Nathan snapped, "Well, what?" After a few
moments of awkward silence he walked to her, placing his hands on her
shoulders.

"Stop worrying about me, Brada." Grazing a finger over the prickly
stubble of his beard, she said, "Easier said than done. I've been
worrying about you since we were kids."

"Then it's high time you stopped. The trip to D.C. will be like a
vacation, I promise. Besides, what could be easier than convincing a
bunch of bureaucrats not to pass the Evans-Giles bill?" Brada shrugged
and headed for the door. "If you say so. I'll run down to the employee
lounge and get you some real bandages from the first-aid kit." Nathan
said, "Wait, Brada. What did you want to tell me that was so important?"
She stopped, then walked back to him. "First, I need to ask you
something. Will you be honest with me?" He cocked his head, looking
irritated as he grumbled, "Why wouldn't I be honest with you?" She
narrowed her eyes and asked, "What were you doing last night? Really.
You can tell me." Impatiently he muttered, "What I just told you. I
couldn't sleep, so I came back here and caught up on my reading. Why the
inquisition?" Brada didn't answer; instead she just handed him the
morning newspaper. "Have you ever noticed that bad things come in
streaks?" Rae asked as she stared out the window of the jet at the
patchwork fields far below. Ashe was seated next to her with his head
tilted to one side. Without opening his eyes he replied, "Well, it all
started with Andy's murder. The well was sabotaged. We've been trying to
get back to California for, let's see " He narrowly opened one eye to
glance at his watch, then said, "Fourteen hours, eleven of which were
spent sitting in an airport terminal. We look like death warmed over,
and I don't know about you, but I'd kill for a shower right now. Is that
enough to qualify as a streak of bad luck?"

"I certainly hope so, but ..." She shrugged.

Opening both eyes, he sat up to glare at her. "Oh, God. But what?" He
leaned across her to look out the window. "It doesn't look like any of
the engines are on fire." She laughed. "Shhh  ...  You'll create mass
hysteria. Nothing else is wrong. I was just thinking of a friend of
mine who swears streaks of bad luck last for a whole year. My last one
certainly did."

"Was that the year your husband died?" She nodded. "It just seemed like
every time I turned around, something else went wrong." He reached over
and took her hand in his. "I know this doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry.
I've been working for RESCUE for years, and this is the first time
things have been like this. I wouldn't have hired you if I thought it
wasn't a great place to work. I swear." With one look at his tired eyes
she knew he was sincere. "I know you wouldn't have. I feel like I'm the
one who should be apologizing."

"For what?" She shrugged, turning her face to the small window. Ashe
leaned toward her.

"If you're somehow implying that you leave a trail of destruction
wherever you go, I'm not going to buy it. We had problems on the HER
site long before you even interviewed with RESCUE. In fact, six years
ago when we first discussed it at a board meeting, Brada wanted to fund
solar projects instead. She thought HER was too risky." Rae turned back
to face him. "Why?"

"She wouldn't say. Women call it intuition, men call it gut instinct.
Looks like whatever people choose to call it, she was right."

"I take it you don't believe in such things?"

"I believe we all make our own destiny. Unfortunately, the destinies
other people are carving for themselves frequently screw up our own
plans, but we all have a chance to react. It's how you react to
adversity that shows your true character. You're a perfect example."

"How's that?"

"You could have withdrawn after you lost your husband, crawled into a
shell and lived the rest of your life dwelling on the past. Instead, you
built yourself a new career, a new life. You took control of your
destiny." His eyes searched hers as he said, "I respect and admire you
for it." She closed her eyes and quietly sighed. "I'm not nearly as
brave as you think. In fact, you should know that-1 decided a long time
ago not to ever get involved with anyone again."

"Really?"

"Really."

"And you think that I'll just back away because of some silly decision
you made at a crappy time in your life?"

"But it would be-the wise thing to do. Trust me, I've thought about it a
lot." Ashe grinned. "Do you really think I'm the type that would just
stand by and watch someone who needs help?" Rae blushed, then
defensively snapped, "What makes you think I need help?" His smile
widened. "Do you know you're cute when you're really pissed off?" Rae
tried to find fuel for her anger, but his lighthearted gaze kept
disarming it. Finally she smiled with him. "Okay. Assuming I could use a
little help, what makes you think you're qualified to provide it?"

"Because I believe in you." His warm fingers wrapped around her hand,
and she stared at them for a few seconds before she said, "I'm glad I'm
here. Even if the HER project has to be abandoned, at least I had the
chance. Thank you." With his free hand he caressed her cheek, then
gently kissed her. As he slowly pulled away he said, "I know part of
your problem. You think work and romance don't mix." He grinned and
added, "But I've been trying not to fall for you ever since we met." She
pulled him back toward her, and this time she kissed him. Sighing, she
said, "Besides, we may as well admit it, working together may not be a
problem for long." His eyes widened. "What gave you that crazy idea?"

"If the HER project is dead, I'm out of a job. Remember?"

"Bullshit."

"Bullshit?"

"Rae, RESCUE doesn't hire people unless we need them. And that's Need
with a capital N. Our people are our only truly valuable asset, or to be
even more specific, their time, devotion, and energy are. First, you'll
be in charge of reevaluating the alternate sites we've already found. If
my memory serves me, several were quite promising. Then, if none of them
are still feasible, you can find one that is. We both know HER can work
..." She finished his sentence, ". if there weren't the economic
constraints." Ashe leaned against his head rest and pulled her close.
"Someday, maybe people will understand that oil prices don't include the
true price of burning hydrocarbons.

Think how much money is spent every single day cleaning up our
environment and coping with medical problems that are directly related
to pollution. If people considered all the true expenses of relying on
oil for energy, maybe they'd see oil is uneconomical now, instead of
thirty or forty years from now when the supply starts to dwindle. But
people like you and I will change all that. We'll do what's right."
Softly kissing the top of her head, he added, "And you're going to have
a hard time convincing me that this isn't right." Rae was intrigued, as
always, by his enthusiasm. It was easy to relax in his arms. Easy to
feel the beat of his heart beneath her hand. Easy to leave behind years
of frustration and loneliness. Brada handed Nathan the L.A. Times and
backed slowly toward the door. Sinking into his chair, he read the story
on the front page of the business section: NEWLY APPOINTED PETROCO CEO
MURDERED Charles "Chuck" Kelmar, who only two days ago was appointed
President and Chief Executive Officer of Petroco, was viciously murdered
in his hotel room in Las Vegas last night. Mr. Kelmar had been attending
the National Conference of Petroleum Leaders when he was apparently
killed in an attempted burglary. Police have not released any
information at this time, but did confirm that Mr. Kelmar struggled with
his assailant or assailants, and that the apparent cause of death was
multiple stab wounds. Petroco is listed on the New York Stock Exchange.

A representative from the company stated that the news of Mr. Kelmar's
death is a shock not only to his coworkers, but to everyone in the
industry. Nathan looked at Brada, his eyes wide. "You don't think that I
..." She hesitated as though she was going to say something but thought
better of it, then said, "Of course not. It's just I know how you feel
about him and, well ...  when I came in  ...  there was blood on your
shirt and the empty bottle of wine. You have to admit it looked a little
suspicious." Nathan slumped into his chair and stared at her.

Grabbing the paper, he reread the article. "Thank God he was killed in
Vegas. There's no way I could have done it."

"Actually, if you flew each way, there was plenty of time."

"Brada! You know I'm not a murderer!"

"I know, but does everyone else?" she asked. "Listen to you! We both
know Chuck Kelmar was a lowlife bastard who finally got what he
deserved!

What's wrong with you?"

"No! Can't you see? We'll lose everything we've worked for!" Shaking,
Brada stormed out of his office. Stopping at Dinell's desk, she snapped,
"You really should quit eavesdropping all the time." Dinell blushed.
"I--I was busy typing."

"Sure you were." The plane jerked as the tires touched down. The massive
engines roared for a moment, then purred as they taxied to the terminal.
As they briskly walked to the baggage-claim area, Rae caught a glimpse
of a local newscast. She grabbed Ashe by his shirtsleeve, and they
watched together. The story was brief. The police were not yet releasing
any information about the murder of Charles Kelmar. As the reporter
switched to the next story, Rae said, "Isn't that one of the guys
rescue's been having trouble with?" Ashe nodded, obviously deep in
thought. Rae said, "He looked really young. It's a shame." Ashes voice
was laced with contempt as he said, "Actually, it couldn't have happened
to a better guy. Chuck Kelmar was an asshole through and through. It
sounds like someone finally got tired of his bullshit." Rae turned to
him, shocked.

"Ashe, I'm surprised at you. Ever heard of respect for the dead?"

"People have to earn respect. Believe me, Kelmar never earned my respect
while he was alive. Why should he have it just because he's dead?" Karl
Ross sauntered into his Midland office a little after nine in the
morning. He'd stopped for his usual morning massage, and was relaxed as
he mentally prepared for the day. His secretary was on the phone, grimly
nodding. "What's wrong?" he asked as she hung up. She was an older
woman, biding her time until she could retire. Her voice cracked. "That
was the chairman of the board's secretary. She said Mr. Kelmar was
killed in Las Vegas early this morning."

"That's impossible. I talked to him on the phone last night. He didn't
sound great, but he certainly wasn't dead."

"Really? You'd better call the police. I'm sure they'd want to hear
about your conversation." She hesitated, then added, "She said an
executive board meeting has been scheduled for one o'clock this
afternoon, and you're expected to attend." Ross leaned against the door
frame of his office as his briefcase dropped to the floor. Thoughts were
flashing through his mind so fast he couldn't sort them. Over the last
few years only he and Kelmar had worked on what the two of them called
the Protection Program. Even though a few key employees had been given
occasional responsibilities, Kelmar was the only one who knew the entire
scheme. Ross wasn't even sure if the members of the executive board knew
of the activities Kelmar had undertaken to try to secure the future of
the petroleum industry. Kelmar had always been the one who attended
board meetings and manipulated the budget to fund the program. Ross had
accepted him as the mastermind from the beginning, never thinking about
the future of the program if something should happen to him. Now,
suddenly, he was gone. The thought of additional power intrigued him
more than he had imagined, yet at the same time it made his stomach
tighten. He picked up his briefcase and practically stumbled into his
office. Closing the door, he slid into the nearest chair. What if the
board appoints me president? Chuck's death may be the biggest chance
I'll ever get! A smile slowly spread across his face. The opportunity of
a lifetime had just landed in his lap, and he had no intention of
letting it pass him by. Sunlight pierced the clouds hanging over the
cemetery as the brief graveside service concluded. Cory Williams had
been laid to rest just three days short of his thirteenth birthday
amidst loud sobs from his mother and little sisters. His older brother
said nothing. In fact, he had barely uttered a word since the night of
the wreck, even though the police had grilled him for more than four
hours. Walters watched the austere service from far across the rolling
hill, pretending to pay his last respects to another recently departed
soul. His eyes never left the tall black boy who stood behind his
mother--the one whose left arm was in a sling, rendered useless by a
full cast, while his right hand rested on his mother's shoulder. Had
Walters not known what scum the kid actually was, he might have been
moved. Besides stealing his car, the kid had been kicked out of school
twice in the last six months for starting fights. Without binoculars
Walters couldn't see if the boy was crying, but he doubted it. The kid
looked tough, even from a distance. And he'd been smart enough not to
leave a single fingerprint at the scene of the crime. The police didn't
have enough evidence to arrest him, at least not yet. A murmured chorus
of

"Amens" signaled the conclusion of the service, and the mourners began
to stir. Walters watched every step the teenager took, until the time he
slid into the backseat of the old Ford and they drove away.

Casually, Walters began the trek back to his own vehicle, but there was
no hurry. He'd already been to the kid's house. He even knew where he
hung out most of the time, the name of the doctor who had treated his
injuries, and that the kid claimed he had broken his arm and hit his
head in a makeshift game of football that turned violent. Walters had to
get the crossbow back soon, just in case the kid, maybe for the first
time in his life, decided to tell the truth. "That arm hurting you,
Jace?" He shook his head, staring out the window of the car. He couldn't
bear to look at his mother, to see the pain in her eyes. Even as she
drove, he knew she was staring at him in the rearview mirror, searing a
hole through him so the truth would ooze out. Thankfully, his sisters
started fighting just as they arrived home. With his mother occupied, he
rushed inside, hoping to hide in the tiny bathroom. Instead, he stopped,
his mouth gaping open. They didn't have much, and what little they did
have had been ransacked. "Oh, God," he mumbled, then ran back outside.

Stopping the rest of the family before they stepped onto the narrow
porch, he said, "Mama, I forgot to tell you Aunt Vivian called. We were
supposed to go to her house right after the funeral."

"What? But she didn't say anything at the service--" "Nobody said
anything at the funeral. It ain't polite. Just go. You don't want her
getting all upset, now, do you?" Taking her by the shoulders, he twisted
her around, then grabbed each of his sisters by their sleeves. Opening
the car doors for them, he ushered them nervously inside. "What's wrong,
Jace?" his mother asked, her eyes brimming with a fresh batch of tears.
"Nothing. My arm's starting to hurt. Gonna lay down for a while. Tell
Aunt Viv I'm sorry I couldn't come." Slamming the car door, he watched
until they were driving away, then rushed inside. It took several
minutes to find the phone, since it had been jerked off the wall. With a
screwdriver Jace quickly opened the wall plate, reconnected the wires,
and fiddled until he got a dial tone. Calling his aunt as fast as he
could, he nervously tapped the wall. "Aunt Vivian?"

"Yes."

"Mama and the girls are coming over. Someone wrecked our house and I
didn't want her to see it this way. Can you keep 'em busy for a couple
of hours while I clean this mess up?"

"But--"

"Please, Aunt Viv. Mama has enough to worry about now."

"Okay. Should I send over my boys to help?"

"No. I can handle it.

Thanks." Jace scanned the rooms, one by one, straightening furniture
along the way. It was a small house, only a kitchen, a living area, a
bathroom, and two tiny bedrooms. When he opened the door to the bedroom
he shared with his sisters, he froze. The center of his pillow was
pinned into the mattress with an oversize butcher knife. Moving closer,
he recognized the knife his mother used to cut up chicken. Between it
and the pillow was a neatly typed note: I know who you are. I know what
you did. If you want your mother and sisters to live, you'd better think
twice about talking to the police. I'll be in touch. Soon.


Chapter 7.


The letter was marked confidential in bold red letters. It was addressed
to Detective in Charge--Homicide Division-- Las Vegas Police Department,
and it was printed on plain white paper, the kind sold in reams at any
office-supply store. The type appeared to be as ordinary as the paper,
probably from a common laser or ink-jet printer. Yet unlike most
correspondence, this letter bore no postage, no postmark that might have
revealed even a scrap of information about its sender. In fact, it
seemed to have miraculously appeared on the front desk out of nowhere.

The detective on duty in Homicide that day held the envelope to the
light to inspect it before he sheared its top edge with his letter
opener, ignoring the fact it was addressed to his superior officer. He
blew it open with a quick whiff of air, then unfolded the plain white
paper and read the contents: I know it isn't right, but I can't afford
to get involved in this. I didn't do it, I only had drinks with him in
the casino and went to his room for some fun. We had a fight, but I
didn't kill Charles Kelmar, and I don't know for sure who did. He told
me there was a guy out to get him, even pointed him out to me in the
casino. He said the guy was from California, some kind of ultra-paranoid
ecology freak, and his name was Greenwall or something. They've hated
each other for years because they're in some sort of competition. Maybe
he's the one who did it, because I didn't. Don't bother to look for me.

I've already left this sleazy town and I'm never, ever coming back. He
held the letter for several minutes, reading it again while he plotted
his next move. It could have been sent by any crackpot, and at first
glance appeared to be written by one. Greenwall was a pretty common
name, and California was certainly a state chock full of ecology nuts.

But they had found a woman's blouse at the scene, and scratches on the
victim's face. He thought for several minutes, deciding it was
definitely worth his effort to follow through, and that Los Angeles
would probably be his best place to start. With the letter still in one
hand, he picked up the phone, dialed the LAPD, and asked for Homicide.

It didn't take long to find out the basics: Greenwall's first name was
Nathan; he was head of a multimillion-dollar alternative-energy
company; the people of California loved him for creating jobs, his
environmentally sound business principles, and his generosity to
charities; his reputation was spotless, far from a criminal stereotype.

After ten minutes on the phone, he was confident he had solved the
Kelmar murder investigation, and the killer was the type the media
loved--stinking rich, with a long, hard fall ahead. Logically, Walters
knew better than to lurk around in the state he was in. It had been well
over seventy-two hours since he'd slept for longer than an hour or two,
yet the extreme fatigue made him feel more jumpy than tired. He was
certain the nervous exhaustion gave him an edge, somehow sharpening his
senses instead of dulling them. AH he had to do was track down the kid,
find out what he knew about the crossbow, then kill him. Easy. In no
time at all he would be out of California, as he should have been right
after his late-night visit to RESCUE to set up Greenwall for Kelmar's
murder. Finding Jace Williams turned out to be the easiest thing he had
done in ages, in spite of the fact the kid hadn't been home since the
day of the funeral. He was exactly where he had expected him to be,
talking with a few friends outside the youth center on the edge of his
neighborhood. From a distance, Walters studied the scene. Blending in
would definitely be impossible. Well-dressed, middle-aged white men
didn't hang out on street corners at this hour of the night. He would
have to settle in and wait. Several hundred yards from the center, he
eased behind a garbage can to watch the boys with his starlight
binoculars until it was time for the chase. By the time the gathering
finally broke up almost an hour later, Walters had almost nodded off.

Caught off guard, he was shocked when his first attempt to stand gave
him a vicious leg cramp that almost sent him tumbling onto the concrete.

His foot banged the can as he rolled to one side, proclaiming his
position with a resonating metallic clank. Holding perfectly still, he
couldn't believe no one was alerted by his writhing agony. Why should
they? Jace Williams has no idea what's in store for him! With his right
calf muscle on fire, he futilely rubbed it, trying to increase the
circulation before he dared to stand again. There wasn't time for him to
wait for the cramp to pass. In spite of the pain, he forced himself
upright, expending an incredible amount of effort. The hunt was on.

Although some of his friends headed down the street the opposite way,
Jace started walking directly toward him. Drawing his gun from the
holster inside his jacket, Walters expertly screwed on a silencer
without his eyes ever leaving the approaching boy. He knew he had to be
careful. The kid had to drop but not die. This kid knew about the
crossbow, probably even had it. He would make him spill his guts before
he finished him off. Although Walters was tempted to fire just to end
his personal torture, years of practice made him hold back until exactly
the right moment. Squeezing the trigger, he watched for a split
second--but Williams didn't fall like all the others before him. At the
precise instant Walters fired, the boy wheeled around to answer a
question shouted from the door of the youth center. The bullet whizzed
within a quarter inch of his thigh, then thumped into the concrete curb
on the far side of the street. Jace whirled around, his questioning,
stunned eyes meeting his for an instant, and in that instant he knew
what lay ahead. The boy's bloodcurdling scream alerted everyone in the
youth center as he came to his senses and ran. Six or seven kids seemed
to come out of nowhere, all shouting and running in a panicked frenzy.

Walters stared in shock for several seconds, frozen in surprise that he
had actually missed. He glanced at the people running up and down the
street, and knew he had blown his chance. With his right calf still
cramped into a rock- hard knot, he half limped, half ran as fast as he
could toward the rented van. The initial hysteria slowed his
adversaries, but youth was in their favor. As he approached the van, a
rock flew past his head, shattering the driver's window. He dropped,
rolling onto his side as he began firing in the direction he had just
come. Bodies dropped; screams filled the still night. Walters wasn't
used to his victims fighting back. In spite of his lack of aim, two
bullets struck home. One boy screamed as he went down, the bullet
shattering his kneecap, the second silently dropped when a bullet caught
him just above his right eye. "Got ya!" Watching their friends collapse
made the others think twice about the wisdom of their chase. They
scattered for cover, then froze like frightened quail. Two retreated,
but the other three managed to find hiding places along the side of the
deserted road. In the blink of an eye Walters ran to where the wounded
boy lay, shocked to see it wasn't Williams after all. The boy was
rocking, his knee clutched to his chest as he wailed. Walters didn't
waste any time. He grabbed him by his hair and dragged his body in front
of his own. Shoving the gun under the boy's chin, he shouted, "I'll kill
him if any of you even think about trying to save his ass!" Walters
began to move backward, using the boy as a shield. No one moved. No one
even breathed. When he felt the van against his back, he shoved the
shaking, whining boy away from him, carefully keeping him in his line of
fire. Climbing quickly into the van, he sped away. It was several miles
before reality sunk in--Jace Williams was still very much alive. Alive
and scared. Across town, the night was endless. Each minute seemed to
click audibly away. Staring at the ceiling revealed nothing new, not
even some trivial morsel of information that would help fit the pieces
of the puzzle together. Sleeplessness was not unusual--in fact, it had
been a part of a lonely existence for years. But tonight was different.

For the first time in years, the plan seemed to be unraveling. Something
had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Some people might believe Chuck Kelmar
had been struck down by random violence in a town where such things
happened all the time. But it wasn't true, it couldn't be. Somewhere out
there was Chuck's killer, and his killer was tied to the plan. But how?

The ache deep inside was too fresh to allow logic to creep in. The
window to the future had exploded into a million meaningless slivers
with the news of the murder. Without Kelmar's help, RESCUE might
survive, might actually thrive. So much work, such a complicated scheme,
ruined by the senseless death of a close friend. A silent vow was made
sometime before that timeless night turned into morning--Chuck's death
would be avenged, and somehow, some way, Nathan Greenwall would die a
poor, miserable man. Rushing to catch Rae as she walked down the hall,
Ashe suddenly slowed his pace, falling in a few steps behind her to
enjoy the view. As he watched the swing of her hair, the subtle but sexy
motion of her hips, he wished he could sweep her into his arms, hold
her, make love to her over and over again. When he tapped her shoulder,
she greeted him with a smile so genuine it seemed to touch his heart.

That smile made him realize how different this relationship was from any
he had experienced in the past. Before there had always been periods of
strained silence, moments when each person wondered where they were
headed, what their future together held. Yet with Rae the sizzling
undercurrent of sexual tension could actually take his breath away. It
was always there, barely covered by the fabric of their growing personal
and professional relationships. "Did you get your things unpacked?" he
asked as he stirred his morning coffee and strolled at her side. Rae
rolled her eyes and sarcastically replied, "Oh, sure. The radiation gave
me super powers, so I flew through all fifteen boxes my parents shipped
in no time at all; then I rushed out to save the world from certain
doom. It was a long, hard night, but very satisfying." Ashe didn't
playfully grab her as he would have liked, since they were walking down
the central hall of rescue's headquarters. Instead, he merely stopped
dead in his tracks. After several steps Rae realized he was no longer
beside her and glanced back at him curiously. Ashe frowned and shook his
head. "Life certainly isn't fair."

"You're forty-some odd years old and you just figured that out?" Rae
snapped. "No wonder the people around here think you're some kind of
genius. I'm impressed." He jutted his lower lip into a quivering pout.
"I'm jealous. You got super strength and can fly. All I got from the HER
site was a nasty case of poison ivy in a very embarrassing place." Rae
smiled and moved closer to him as she whispered sexily, "Poor baby. Want
me to scratch it for you?" Ashe was about to answer when they both heard
Dinell right behind them. "Excuse me," she said. Rae visibly jumped and
blushed, while Ashe managed to politely say, "Good morning, Dinell. What
can we do for you?"

"There's a woman in Mr. Greenwall's office who insists on seeing someone
'with authority' right away. She asked for Brada first, but Brada
already left for the National Scientific Research Contest this morning.
She won't be back for a few days." Ashe asked, "How did you end up with
her?"

"She was making a pretty big scene in the lobby, so someone brought her
up to see Mr. Greenwall. Unfortunately, he won't be in until late this
afternoon, if at all. He's attending a golf tournament to raise funds
for leukemia research." Dinell caught her breath, adding, "I hate to
beg, Ashe, but this woman will not leave. Could you please meet with her
for just a few minutes?"

"Do you have any idea what she wants? Who she is?" Dinell shook her
head. "Not a clue. She won't even tell me her name." Ashe looked at Rae,
winked, and said, "Rae and I will both talk to her. Sounds like it might
be educational." Dinell sighed and said, "Thanks. Follow me, you can use
Mr. Greenwall's office. She's already inside." They followed Dinell to
the executive suite, past her secretarial station, then into Nathan's
office. Dinell quickly introduced Ashe and Rae, then slipped out the
door, closing it silently behind her. Ashe leaned against Nathan's desk
and asked, "What can RESCUE do for you, Mrs.--?"

"Prosser. Margaret Prosser." Ashe nodded, immediately recognizing the
last name. "Good morning," he said, extending his hand. Margaret was in
her mid-fifties, with short gray hair neatly combed away from her face.
She looked skeptically at Ashe and asked, "Exactly what do you do here?"
He glanced at Rae, then replied, "I'm head of one of rescue's primary
divisions. Vice President of Geothermal Exploitation is my exact title."
Her eyes narrowed. "How long have you worked here?"

"I've been with the company since it was founded eight years ago. I'm
sure I can help you, if you'll tell me what the problem is." She
hesitated, asking, "So you know Brada Stevens personally?" Ashe
shrugged. "I've known and worked with her for years.

Why?" She turned her probing gaze to Rae. "What about you? How long have
you worked here?" Rae started to answer, but Ashe held up his hand.

"Mrs. Prosser, Ms. Majors is a loyal RESCUE employee. We'd both like to
help you in any way we can, but you'll have to trust us. Your daughter
did." The woman seemed to relax slightly. "I know I sound paranoid, but
I think I have good cause to be. You see, it's only been a few days
since Marilyn died, and I guess I ...  I just haven't  ..." As she
started to cry, Rae handed her a box of tissues. Ashe quietly said,
"Take your time, Mrs. Prosser." After a few seconds, she regained enough
composure to carry on. "You're right. Marilyn did trust you, so I should
too." Ashe was aware of everything that had happened, but for Rae's sake
he explained. "Marilyn wrote an excellent thesis on a hypothetical new
way to drill wells which she called Triplate technology. She was in a
car accident shortly after she met with Brada to discuss her work. Is
that correct, Mrs. Prosser?" The woman nodded. "I went to her apartment
yesterday, you know, to pack her things." She snapped open the purse on
her lap and after taking a deep breath added, "I found this." In her
hand was a small journal. "It was hidden in the same place she's been
hiding things since she was a little girl. When she was six, she hid my
Mother's Day present inside a cereal box in the back of the pantry. She
was so proud of herself. I can't believe she still does that, I mean,
did  ..." Rae asked, "Can I get you something to drink, Mrs. Prosser?"
She shook her head. "The police had already gone through all her things,
both at my house and at her apartment, before the grand jury
investigation. Of course, they didn't find this journal." Ashe asked,
"Didn't they ask you where your daughter might have hidden important
items?"

"Yes, but I'd forgotten. Besides, the day of the accident she called and
told me to be careful for a while--not to trust anyone and not to talk
to a soul about her work. When 1 asked her why, all she said was that I
shouldn't worry, I should just be careful. If only I'd known." She took
a calming breath. "When I read these notes, I knew I had to do
something. I didn't believe it at first, but now I'm certain she really
was murdered." Rae asked, "Have you talked to the police?" She shook her
head. "What she did  ...  I  ...  I was disappointed that Marilyn would
even think of doing such a thing, of selling her brilliant idea to the
highest bidder. But then 1 realized how desperate she must have been,
how scared--especially in the end when she tried to do the right thing.
She was only twenty-four years old. She and her father never got along,
but if I'd known how badly she needed money, I'd have found a way to
help her." She stopped talking and sat for several seconds, just staring
at the book in her hands. Ashe asked, "Would you mind telling us what
the journal says, or letting us read it?" She didn't say a word. She
merely extended her hand to give him the book.

Walking over, he stood next to Rae and carefully began flipping through
the pages until he found the last entry. Just from casual observation it
was obvious the book was a diary of sorts, where Marilyn had recorded
both notes about her studies as well as her personal feelings. Together
Ashe and Rae read the last entry: I can't live with myself. Even though
KT says these kinds of deals are done every day, all this secrecy just
doesn't feel right. Even if it is expensive, I think I can patent the
Triplate design myself in a few years. It must be really good, or they
wouldn't want it so much! Five thousand dollars a month seems like such
a fortune right now--but I've made it this far without much. Somehow I
can make it a little while longer. I called Brada Stevens at RESCUE and
set up a time to meet her tonight. Maybe she can help get me out of this
mess. She seems to be the only one I can trust. On the phone she said
the oil company would be upset, but she promised RESCUE could help. I
hope she's right. Ashe glanced at Rae, then asked, "Did you read the
entire journal, Mrs. Prosser?" She nodded. Ashe began pacing across the
office, obviously in deep thought. After several moments he quietly
asked, "Are there any names or places specifically mentioned?" She
nodded, then said, "Several people are mentioned a few times, but most
of them are referred to by their initials. I think the person she refers
to as"KT' is one of her engineering professors. She refers to another
person who was involved in this awful business with the oil company
several different times, but never uses a name. Can you tell me
something?"

"We can try," Ashe said. "Is what Marilyn did illegal?" He shook his
head and said, "Not at all. It was Marilyn's right to do whatever she
wanted with her idea."

"Then why couldn't she ever tell anyone? Why was it all such a big
secret."

"Because some oil companies don't want the public to know there are
alternatives to the current methods, at least not yet. They buy
technological breakthroughs and bury them until they decide the time is
right--from a profit-stand- point, of course. By keeping these deals
secret, it minimizes outside pressure from companies like RESCUE." Mrs.
Prosser sighed, apparently relieved her daughter hadn't died a criminal.
Rae asked, "Did Marilyn mention anything about where her research work
was done, or where she kept the information?"

"No, but she didn't have to. I know where it is." Ashe and Rae looked at
her in disbelief as they simultaneously asked, "Really?"

"She doesn't have a computer of her own, and she didn't feel comfortable
using the ones they provide at school.

I've always typed her papers for her. I'm a medical transcriber at
Medicdata. I typed a thesis for her called"Triplate Penetration and
Augmentation' a couple of weeks ago. It was very technical, so I typed
exactly what she wrote, just as I do for the doctors. Of course, her
terminology is different than what I'm used to, but in some ways it's
the same." She beamed with pride. "She was very smart, you know." Ashe
said, "I've never seen her work, but I'm sure your daughter was
brilliant, Mrs. Prosser. Do you have a copy of the Triplate papers?"

"No, but the file would be stored on my computer. I have a personal
subdirectory for that sort of thing. It has a password so no one else
can look at the files. I may even have kept a copy of her sketches, too.
They're very good.

She almost majored in architecture, but she changed to engineering at
the last minute."

"Would you mind if we come with you and get copies of the information? I
promise you, RESCUE will handle your daughter's work with the dignity it
deserves. We won't exploit it." She seemed nervous again. "You can't
come to where I work. We're not supposed to use company time to do
personal things." Sitting a little straighter, she added, "I didn't.

I always went in early and typed her papers on my own time, but 1 still
wouldn't want anyone to know."

"Could we meet you somewhere after work? You could copy the file onto a
diskette. We'll put it in a safe deposit box and convince the police to
reopen her case."

"I can do that. Why don't you come by my office after work tonight?
Since I'm going to be late getting to work this morning, I probably
won't be finished until about six.

I'll meet you in the parking lot." Rae handed her a note pad, and she
jotted down the address.

They thanked her profusely. Just before she left, she turned to say, "I
knew as soon as I came into this building and saw all those beautiful
plants and the waterfall that you were good people. Marilyn will be at
peace knowing her hard work won't be ignored. Thank you for helping me."

"No, thank you. It took a lot of courage to come here, and we appreciate
it," Ashe said.

As Ashe and Rae watched the woman disappear into the hallway, the phone
rang. Dinell answered it and handed it to Ashe. "It's Brada."

"Ashe? Are you there?" Brada shouted.

"Yep. Where are you?"

"St. Louis. They're getting ready to unveil the entries.

Supposedly there are several energy ideas worth our time."

"Sounds fascinating. You aren't going to believe what just happened
here, Brada. Marilyn Prosser's mother stopped by." There was a brief
pause where Ashe could only hear loud whoops and yells, then Brada said,
"Sorry about that.

This place is a zoo. What did you say about Marilyn?"

"Her mother has the Triplate designs. We're going to meet her tonight to
get a copy."

"You're kidding!"

"You haven't heard the best part. Marilyn kept a journal.

We may be able to nail those bastards at Petroco yet. It may not have
specific names, but it does have initials, which should be enough to get
the police involved again. I'm especially excited about discovering
which one of her professors was involved."

"I think I'd better catch a plane back there. This sounds too good to be
true."

"No need. We're going to put all the information in a safe deposit box
where Petroco can't get their hands on it.

Then we'll present copies to the police. We'll handle it. I promise.
Besides, with the HER problems we're having, this will be a good
distraction for Rae and me for the next few days." There was another
loud commotion on Brada's end of the conversation. She finally said,
"I'd better head back."

"Don't worry. We've got it under control." Ashe could hear her
reluctance as she replied, "Okay.

I'll see you in a couple of days." She hung up, and Ashe turned to Rae,
who was walking back into Nathan's office. He followed her inside and
closed the door.

"I'm really getting paranoid," Rae said, shaking her head.

"Why?"

"The whole time you were talking, I was worried who would hear. Dinell
was so busy listening she didn't even pretend to work."

"Dinell wouldn't hurt a soul."

"Let's hope not. This whole thing just doesn't feel right." Rae turned
to sit down, when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.
Walking to the far end of Nathan's office, she pointed at a black
plastic box plugged into the lower part of the wall. "What is that
thing, anyway?" Ashe crouched to study it. "I haven't got a clue." He
pulled it out of the electric socket and examined it more closely. "I'll
ask Nathan when he gets in, but it looks like some sort of filter."

"I was just curious. It wasn't there the day I was interviewed." Ashe
cocked his head and looked at her. "How can you be so sure?"

"I noticed everything about this office that day. How the liquid crystal
walls were constructed, the furniture, everything.

I remember seeing that electrical outlet and thinking how ingenious it
was that they encased the wiring in mirrors so it wouldn't be as
noticeable when the crystals were clear."

"You never cease to amaze me. What do you think about Marilyn's
mysterious death?" Rae was quiet for a few seconds. She turned to stare
out the window. "I'm really worried about her mother."

"Just because people heard about our meeting?" Rae nodded. "I think
she's in deep trouble. Emotionally, and physically." Ashe said,
"Emotionally, I'm afraid we can't help her much, except possibly by
making certain her daughter's work is put to good use. I'm not sure why
you're worried about her physical well-being. Only a couple of RESCUE
people know about the information she has, so I don't think there's
anything to be concerned about, at least not yet.

Once the police get involved and the people implicated start getting
nervous, then she'll need protection."

"I'm sure you're right," Rae answered unenthusiastically.

"You don't sound very excited about Mrs. Prosser coming forward." When
his eyes met hers, he shook his head and sighed. "Oh, no. I've seen that
look before. What could possibly be wrong?" Rae attempted a smile and
shrugged. "I just have a gut feeling that we've made a mistake. It's
probably nothing.

Forget it."

"What's probably nothing?" Ashe asked.

"Marilyn's diary," Rae said. "We should have kept the diary." Power
corrupts quickly, or at least it did in the case of Karl Ross. Although
he had been appointed acting president of Petroco only until the board
could call a formal meeting, for the last forty-eight hours he had lived
like a.king.

When the cell phone in his shirt pocket rang, he expected it to be his
new secretary for the fourth time that morning. He finished merging into
traffic on the crowded expressway, then answered the phone with a curt
"Yes. What now?" He was shocked when he heard an unfamiliar woman's
voice ask if he was Karl Ross. "Who is this?" he asked without answering
the question.

"That's not important. I've always worked with Kelmar, but now that he's
dead, I suppose I'll have to deal with you." Ross didn't like the
demanding tone of voice, but he knew better than to irritate the type of
people Kelmar had on contract. "This is Ross. What kind of work did you
do for Kelmar?"

"Let's say that I'm well aware of the secret Protection Program and that
I've been an integral part of it since its inception." He tightly
gripped the soft leather steering wheel as sweat began to trickle down
his brow. Over the knot in his throat he said, "I understand."

"I was hoping you would."

"Why are you calling on this line?" he asked nervously, then added,
"Cell phones aren't secure."

"I didn't have a choice. We have a problem that requires immediate
attention." Ross attempted to sound professional by second-guessing the
reason for the call. "I see. So you need permission to handle this
'problem' according to a certain plan of action?

Or do you just need authorization to spend money?" The silence at the
other end of the line went on for so long, Ross finally said, "Hello?
Are you still there?" The reply was cold, every word enunciated
precisely as though immeasurable willpower was required merely to speak.
"Listen, Mr. Ross. I realize that you have only attained your position
of authority quite recently. Kelmar and I had an understanding. Do you
wish to continue the relationship or not?"

"First, tell me what you perceive to be such a major problem, then I'll
decide."

"Are you familiar with the Marilyn Prosser incident?"

"Extremely." He began sweating profusely. Glancing over his shoulder, he
promptly swerved his new Mercedes convertible across four lanes of
traffic, pulled off the expressway, and cut the engine.

"There's been a complication." The woman finally had his full attention,
but all Ross heard was silence. "So tell me," he said impatiently.

"Tell you, my ass. Either you're going to commit to continue the deal
Kelmar and I had, or I'm not going to feed you any information. Ever."

"What was your deal?"

"Twenty-five thousand a month. Cash."

"What?"

"You heard me. It was actually much more complicated than that, but
that's what I'll settle for now."

"No shit! I wouldn't think for that price you'd have to settle for
anything!" Moments ticked away in silence before the irritated voice
continued, "You're wasting valuable time, Mr. Ross. The Prosser deal is
about to blow Petroco out of the water, and you're dangling on an
unsecured phone line haggling over a few measly bucks."

"Okay. You win. Whatever you want."

"Wise choice. Prosser's mother has copies of the Triplate files, plus
some sort of diary her daughter kept that may name names. She's going to
turn them over to RESCUE tonight, along with a copy of her designs. I'm
sure you realize why that meeting cannot take place. Margaret Prosser
must be eliminated immediately, and I believe Professor Tolmin has
become a liability as well. He's the only true connection, the only way
they can trace the murder directly back to Petroco." Ross merely leaned
his head on the steering wheel and mumbled, "Oh, shit!"


Chapter 8.


Jace Williams' body quivered as streaks of white-hot agony radiated up
his arm. He hadn't slept all night, his stomach was screaming for food,
and his broken arm felt like it was going to burst through its cast. His
house was only eight blocks from where he was hiding, yet it might as
well have been halfway across the universe. For the second time in only
a few days, he was stranded, afraid to go--yet equally afraid to stay.

Scanning the street from his hiding place in the weeds beside a bridge
abutment, he continued to watch for the van from last night while he
tried to think. What else could go wrong? The police were looking for
him again. Two of his friends had been taken away in ambulances. His
baby brother was dead. And for some crazy reason a gun-toting white goon
was trying to kill him!

Closing his eyes, he rested his chin on his knee and lost himself in
whimpering self-pity. Had he not been so absorbed in his own misery, he
might have seen the same van drive under the bridge twice in only five
minutes, once in each direction. It was not the van from last night.
Although it was a similar style, this one was a rich shade of champagne
beige, and all its windows were not only still intact, they were so
darkly tinted the interior was practically undetectable.

Minutes passed while Jace simply rested. Soon the tears subsided, giving
way to a weariness that ached to his bones.

An innocent noise brought him back to reality--the faint crunch of brush
slightly up and behind where he was crouched. Although he didn't want to
move, he was compelled to look, to see what could be making the hair on
the back of his neck stand on end.

When Jace turned his head, the chill of a gun barrel dragged against the
flesh of his neck. Without moving, he merely closed his eyes and waited.
Jesus, help me!

Instead of quietly accepting his fate, Jace dropped his face on his
knees and cried, "Just tell me why you want to kill me. What did I ever
do to you?" For several seconds neither of them spoke. Jace was too
tired and hungry to fight, but he still wanted to know. He took a deep
breath and again pleaded, "Why, man? I didn't do nothing to you."
Walters pulled the gun away from the boy's head and sat down next to him
where he was partially hidden by tall clumps of weeds. Keeping the
barrel pointed directly at him, he managed to hide the gun behind his
free arm so that passersby would not be alerted. Walters, too, appeared
to be haggard, far more so than the boy. With a smile he simply said,
"You stole my car." Jace half laughed, half whined, "So you're going to
kill me? Nobody kills somebody just for taking their frigging car. So
what if I did wreck it? Don't you have any freaking insurance?"

"There was something inside the trunk that wasn't insured.

Something I know you have. You picked the wrong car to steal. You made a
mistake. A very big, fatal mistake.

Unless, of course, you show me where it is." Jace was trembling again,
tears streaming down his face as he sputtered, "I don't know what you're
talking about.

Really." Walters was too tired to laugh, but he managed a smile.

"Let's not play games. You've been smart enough not to take my little
toy to the police, which means you're a pretty shrewd kid. Just give it
to me and I won't kill you. You have to live with knowing you killed
your own brother. That seems like enough punishment all by - itself.

Jace hung his head and shrugged. He knew the man was right. Raising
his head, he watched the cars whoosh past just a hundred feet below, and
he wished he were already dead. After several seconds he finally asked,
"How do I know you aren't going to pop me after I show you where it is?"
Walters chuckled. "Guess you'll have to trust me." Forcing Jace to
stand, he added, "You're going to walk nicely down this little hill and
get in my van. I parked right on the other side of the abutment where
you couldn't see me. I'm going to tie you up, then we'll go for a ride.
I have some urgent business to take care of, but as soon as it gets
dark, we'll find that nice silver briefcase together, won't we?" Jace
shrugged. "Like I have a choice? What kinda business do you do? Kill
people?"

"Among other things. And I'm quite good at it."

"That's a relief. I wouldn't want to be killed by someone who was bad at
it! Who are you gonna kill today besides me?"

"A sense of humor. I like that. Today I'm taking out two people--one
loyal to the cause, one not."

"Why kill someone who's loyal?" Shaking his head, Walters sighed. "You
have no idea how complicated life can be. Sometimes sacrifice is part of
getting where you want to be. For now, you can sit tight in the van.
We'll have lots of time to talk later."

"I don't think we have much to talk about."

"Sure, we do. We can talk about never being able to walk, or even crawl
again. I'll bet a lot of things would be pretty damned hard to do
without any kneecaps, and if you decide to be stubborn and keep your
little secret, that's where we'll start. I suppose your buddy could tell
you how painful it is. Now get off your butt and slowly, very slowly
start down the hill. I'm sure you're smart enough to figure out where my
gun will be aimed. By the way, if you think you can get some kindhearted
driver to help you, they'll end up just as dead as your other friend
did. Understand?" Jace nodded. A few minutes ago he would have welcomed
death, but now adrenaline surged through his veins, making him
momentarily forget the pain. All he could think of was his mother. How
could he let her bury two sons in less than a week? The answer was
simple. He couldn't.

The first few strides were easy enough, but Jace knew one of his next
steps would either kill him or save him. A slight break in the oncoming
traffic signaled his opening.

He closed his eyes, then pretended to trip over a stone. As his body
impacted the ground, he tucked into a ball, purposely accelerating like
a rock, falling recklessly toward the road below. A scream ripped
painfully out of his throat as he rolled atop his broken arm over and
over again, half wondering whether it would be a bullet or the impact of
a car that would end his miserable existence.

His excruciating trip down the steep incline landed him exactly where he
knew it would--sprawled in the center of the closest lane of traffic.
Chaos followed. Jace drew himself even tighter into a ball and listened
to the horrifying sound of squealing brakes and crunching metal for what
seemed like an eternity.

When he finally had the nerve to open his eyes, he was surrounded by a
mass of wrecked cars. Somehow, the cars had managed to dodge him, but
not each other. Before he had time to wonder what happened to the man
with the gun, he tried to move and a new flash of pain ripped through
him. Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew he should run, but instead he
relaxed, and welcomed the growing darkness that enveloped him.

Ashe glanced over Rae's shoulder after he quietly walked into her
office. She was so absorbed in whatever she was working on that she
didn't notice he was behind her. His lips grazed her ear as he
whispered, "Are you nervous?" Rae practically jumped out of her chair.
She tried to act as though he hadn't startled her, shaking her head.
"No.

Why do you ask?" He pointed at the pad of paper in front of her. It was
covered with hundreds of doodles--some words, some drawings--but none of
it made any sense. "I thought you were going to spend the morning
outlining the steps needed to continue the HER work." Ashe picked up her
paper and pretended to try to read it, adding, "I don't mean to be
critical, but I find this a little hard to understand. Maybe you can
decipher it for me." She tossed down her pencil in frustration. "Okay,
so I'm having a little trouble concentrating. I told you already, I have
a really bad feeling about Mrs. Prosser. I can't explain it, I just know
we shouldn't have let her leave."

"And how could we have made her stay? She didn't exactly invite us
along." Rae scowled. "Good point." Ashe perked up. "I just spoke with
Brada again. She's very excited about one of the projects presented at
this year's contest. It may be the solution to the avian mortality
problem our Wind division has been having."

"Avian mortality?" Rae asked with raised eyebrows.

"Birds inadvertently committing hara-kiri by flying into high-speed wind
turbines. I know it sounds crazy, but in some areas it's a major
concern. Even though electric lines kill far more birds than wind
generators, any energy system we market needs to be as environmentally
friendly as possible. Obviously, RESCUE would rather not become a
contributor to the mortality rate of any species." Each day since she'd
started work Rae had learned some new, intriguing bit of information.
Her curiosity was obvious by the tone of her voice. "Are certain types
of birds more prone to having accidental run-ins with the blades?"

"Surprisingly enough, yes. Raptors, birds of prey like eagles and hawks,
have the highest risk of being killed by the turbines. Part of the
problem is they like to perch on top of the structures, where they can
watch for quarry." Rae's face lit up, and she smiled slyly. "How
interesting, and what a great idea!"

"Excuse me?"

"Maybe the turbine problem could be used to solve our HER predicament."
Ashe pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. "This I gotta hear."
She shook her head. "Not the turbines themselves. The way I see it,
whoever sabotaged the HER well is like a raptor. Somehow they have
managed, figuratively speaking, to perch on top of our equipment and
wait to attack when we're least expecting it." She had piqued Ashes
curiosity. "And  ..." he urged.

"And  ...  maybe we need to toss out some more bait and see if anything
swoops down to take it. Except this time we'll be watching and waiting
to see which vulture strikes." Smiling from ear to ear, he said, "Lady,
I truly like your style." With shaking hands Margaret Prosser copied her
daughter's thesis file onto two different diskettes. She tucked one in
her purse, the other in the envelope she had already addressed, then
pulled out her bottom desk drawer as far as it would go. She removed a
file marked low priority from the very back, and stood so she could
glance around the office.

On her tiptoes, she could barely see over the tops of all the cubicles.
Everyone seemed to be busy working, so she sat down and discreetly
opened the file.

The last papers in the back of the folder were Marilyn's original
sketches. Tears welled in her eyes as she held them in her hands. One by
one she folded them, making certain they were perfectly creased before
tucking them in her purse beside the diskette.

Margaret took a deep breath, trying her best to focus on the work
waiting at her fingertips. Still too nervous to begin, she carried the
envelope past the ladies' room to the U.S. Mail chute in the hallway.
Once she dropped it inside, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. As
quickly as she' could, she hurried back to her desk, inserted the tape
in her transcription machine, put on her headphones, and began to work.
Years of blocking out everything made hours pass quickly as Margaret
concentrated on doing her job.

At 5:55 that afternoon, she was still so absorbed in her work she didn't
think twice about the repairman who stopped just outside her cubicle.
After setting up a stepladder, he crawled atop it to work on the
overhead fluorescent lights.

He was dressed in the standard maintenance uniform, drab gray overalls
with his name embroidered on the pocket, and he nodded politely at
Margaret when she hesitantly glanced his way. Most of her co-workers
were busily wrapping up their day's work, eager to leave as soon as
possible.

It didn't strike her as odd that none of the light bulbs he replaced
were burned out, since she looked away from her work only once, then
focused back on the doctor's voice stammering through her headphones.

Fifteen minutes later, a sharp pain in her side made her freeze, her
fingers poised in midair above her keyboard.

There was no time to scream because her mouth was simultaneously covered
by a cloth that reeked of chemicals.

For a fleeting moment before she passed out, she could see the
repairman's image reflected in her computer screen.

Instinctively she knew it was the same bastard who'd killed Marilyn,
even before he leaned close to whisper, "I'm sorry it had to be this
way. I know you meant no harm. But I had to agree to kill you, so I
could kill that deceitful professor who got Marilyn involved in all this
in the first place.

That's the way is has to be." "She's late," Ashe said, his fingers
rhythmically tapping the steering wheel as they waited in the parking
lot outside Margaret Prosser's office building.

Rae placed her hand on his, effectively stopping his incessant drumming.
"She didn't say she'd be here at exactly six tonight. Calm down.
Worrying isn't going to make things better." He scowled playfully at
her. "I thought you were nervous about all this."

"I am."

"You don't act like it." He suddenly remembered how calm she had been at
the HER site after they were exposed.

"But then again, you seem to work pretty well under pressure."

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes?" * "Okay, most of the time, as long it's not an explosive
situation--" Catching herself, she quickly added, "Like the one at the
HER site the other day. But this is different.

She's not coming. I just know it."

"I hate this intuition nonsense," he sighed, running his fingers through
his hair. "It doesn't fit your analytical, rational personality." She
smiled. "Typical male logic. If you can't see it, touch it, smell it, or
eat it, it isn't real?"

"Something like that." Ashe stared into her eyes for a few seconds, then
meekly asked, "Are you usually right?" Rae nodded.

"Shit!" he muttered.

Facing him, Rae smiled. "Maybe we should check inside.

She should've been here by now." He glanced at his watch. "Do you think
we can still get in the building?" She shrugged. "It's better than
sitting here waiting." Ashe grinned as she opened the car door. "Worried
that gut feeling might be a little off base, aren't you?" he taunted.

She cocked her head, defiantly answering, "Not in the least. It's just
the logical way to handle the situation." As they climbed the stairs to
the building, a maintenance man came rushing outside. "Excuse me," Ashe
called.

"Could you tell us how to get to Medicdata?" Shrugging, the man mumbled,
"No." Keeping his gaze on the ground, he practically ran down the
stairs.

After exchanging a puzzled glance, Ashe and Rae entered the building.
There was no security guard on duty, so they simply found the name
Medicdata on the marquis and took the elevator upstairs. Just as they
stepped into the hallway, they caught a glimpse of a woman entering the
stairwell.

"Was that Dinell?" Rae asked, then shook her head in response to the
doubtful look Ashe cast her. "I really am getting paranoid, aren't I?"
Ashe shrugged. "Maybe a little  ..." A young man was just leaving
Medicdata as they approached the entrance. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"We were supposed to meet with Margaret Prosser."

"I'll buzz her for you." Following him into the reception area, they
waited while he dialed her extension. "She doesn't answer. I could go
check to see if she's already left."

"We would really appreciate it," Ashe replied.

The man disappeared for several minutes, then came rushing back, all the
color drained from his face. "She's  ...  I think she's dead!" Rae
grabbed the phone and dialed 911 as Ashe took the man by the shoulders
and demanded, "Show me where she is!" It didn't take long for Ashe to
realize the man was right.

Margaret was slumped in front of her computer. He touched her neck. It
was still warm but carried no pulse. Even so, Ashe eased her onto the
floor so he and Rae could administer CPR. Minutes later, a team of
paramedics took over.

Stepping aside, he put his arm around Rae, and together they watched the
paramedics' valiant efforts. When the blanket was gently pulled over
Margaret's head, Rae buried her face in Ashes chest. "We should've come
sooner. They actually killed her! We should never have let her out of
our sight." Stroking her hair, Ashe was grim. "You're right. I can't
believe this is happening. How could this happen?" They were both quiet,
each lost in shock and dismay until Ashe overheard one of the paramedics
comment, "Never seen that before!" His eyes followed the man's hand as
it pointed to streaks of soot left by a small fire inside the computer.

Chuckling, the man said, "Probably scared the old gal so bad it gave her
a heart attack." Ashe suddenly grabbed Rae's shoulders. "Oh, my God!

That maintenance man was in an awfully big hurry to get out of here,
wasn't he?"

"So was that woman I thought was Dinell!" Jace knew he was in a hospital
long before he opened his eyes. Without moving a muscle, he concentrated
on the antiseptic odor and muted whispers that filled the room.

Grogginess quickly was replaced by terror as memories flooded back.
He'll kill me next time! I know it!

Barely opening his eyelids, Jace evaluated his situation.

He was in some sort of ward. There were four other beds to his right. A
nurse was near the end of the room, reading to a boy whose leg dangled
from wires over his bed. Behind them was a large window, and he could
see it was almost dark outside.

Imperceptibly shifting his line of sight to the left, he found his bed
was the one nearest the door. He knew his arm was still in a cast, and
his head pounded with each heartbeat.

Flexing first his feet, then screaming leg muscles, he knew he could
probably walk, but it would hurt like hell.

As soon as the nurse leaves, I'll sneak out of here  ...  he knows I'm
here  ...  knows I'm alive  ...  Jace was so tired he could hardly
think. As he drifted back to sleep, his last thoughts were. Got to get
up  ...  Run  ...  Hide  ... Ashe and Rae drove toward RESCUE in
silence, both deep in thought. Rae quietly asked, "Are you as worried as
I am?" He nodded. "It's so unreal. Twice in the last few days I've
touched the warm neck of a body and found no pulse.

I actually feel like RESCUE is being swallowed by some horrible monster
and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I keep wondering how this could
be happening. And why  ..."

"I wish I knew."

"Be sure and let me know right away if you get any more of those bad
feelings. Okay?" Rae resisted the urge to say, / told you so. Instead,
she curled her hand around his and squeezed. "I promise you'll be the
first to know."

"Have you come up with any grand schemes to trap these bastards?"

"I've been thinking about it all day. For obvious reasons, I don't
believe we should use the current site. But it might be very interesting
to spread word that we've selected our new HER location. We could choose
an abandoned well that's currently up for sale, one we have no intention
of actually buying, and see if anyone tries to beat us to it."

"What good would that do?"

"We might be able to find out if the problem is at home."

"Sorry, Rae, it's been a long week. What in the world are you talking
about?"

"For starters, what just happened to Margaret. Besides the two of us,
only Brada and Dinell knew she was giving us the information. What if
that was Dinell I saw?" Ashe shook his head, as if doing so could keep
such ideas from being true. "But we don't know how many people Margaret
told. It's even possible someone has been following her."

"Wouldn't it be better to be safe than sorry? Eliminating the
possibility that it's someone within RESCUE wouldn't hurt." Ashe sighed.
"You just don't understand because you haven't been around these people
as long as I have. RESCUE is a way of life, not just a job."

"I know! But I also know that two women who trusted RESCUE to help them
are dead! Whoever's doing this shit is trying to cover their ass while
at the same time cost RESCUE as much money as possible. Run us out of
business.

Right? So, if someone at RESCUE is leaking confidential information, our
little trick might just pay off. If we pretend we're actually going to
start drilling again, we might be able to flush them out."

"True. How do you plan to spread the rumor?"

"Maybe you could send a memo to the other departments.

You know, one that says even though there were problems with the first
Oklahoma site, HER is still very much alive ...  We plan to begin our
next project in a few days at a new location, which has just as much, if
not more, potential than the last ..."

"Nathan will go into shock. I'd better run this scheme by him first."

"Just keep in mind his office might not be the best place to have a
private conversation." When Jace finally woke again, the ward was dimly
lit and the nurse was gone. He edged his feet off the bed and slowly sat
up. The room seemed to float around him, the walls drifting back and
forth until they settled into their proper places. Jace took a deep
breath, pushing himself to think clearly.

He needed clothes to leave, and there was an IV in the back of his hand.
But most of all he was afraid he would faint when he tried to stand. For
a long time he just sat on the edge of the bed, paralyzed with fear.

"Whatcha doing?" Jace almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of the
whispered voice behind him. He slowly turned, certain it was the
beady-eyed crazy man ready to finish his work. Instead, he saw a six- or
seven-year-old boy in the bed next to his--a frail kid with one bandaged
eye and skin so pale his face matched the bleached white pillow case it
rested on. Jace caught his breath and whispered, "Gotta go to the head."

"I heard 'em talking about you. You got something called a concussion.
You aren't supposed to get out of bed by yourself. There's a red button
on the side rail if you need the nurse." Jace stood slowly, wobbling to
and fro. "I don't need no nurse to help me pee. Besides, I can't stay
here." The other boy sat up in his bed, wide-eyed. "You gonna leave?"

"Ssshhh  ...  I got to. Someone's trying to off me, man." The timid
little boy thought for a second, then slowly whispered, "Someone is
trying to hurt you with bug spray?" Jace glared at him. ""Off means
kill. Now, go back to sleep." The boy was too excited to rest. "I know
where your clothes are."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They're in that closet over there."

"Thanks." Jace moved along the edge of his bed, grasping it for support
until his IV line was stretched to its limit.

In one swift motion he pulled the needle out, grimacing but never making
a sound.

"Did that hurt?" Jace nodded.

"You scared?" He nodded again as he tried to stand without the help of
the bed. Swaying, he made his way to the closet, grabbed his clothes,
and barely managed to get back to his bed before he collapsed.

Shaking his head, the boy said, "You don't look so good.

Where you gonna go?"

"Don't know."

"Maybe you could stay at my house." Jace stared at him in wonder.
"Thanks, but it'd be too dangerous."

"When I get out, I could help you get the bad guy. I'm meaner than I
look." Jace almost smiled. When he was dressed, he worked his way over
to the boy's bed. Bending close to him, he said, "Thanks for the help.
You just worry about getting well. I can take care of myself." He
nodded, leaning back against his pillow.

Jace made his way to the door. He peeked through a crack and watched
until he was certain no one was coming. Slipping into the hall, he
grasped the wall for support as he inched his way toward a bank of
elevators at the far end of the floor. When he was almost there, he
heard the ding of one arriving. Yes!

A nurse walked briskly out of the elevator, heading away from him with
her head buried in paperwork. Just as the doors started to slide closed,
Jace rushed inside. He collapsed against the back wall and sighed, only
to suck in his breath when he saw someone racing toward the elevator.

In spite of the green surgical scrubs, he instantly recognized the
deranged man. His eyes burned through to his soul, practically screaming
his intention to finish his work without ever uttering a word.

Walters had finished checking the juvenile wing of the hospital and was
plotting his next move when he saw Jace creeping down the hall. Although
he ran as fast as he could, his fists slammed futilely against the
elevator doors as they slid closed. He was too late. Again.

There wasn't time to wait for another elevator, so Walters ran to the
stairwell. Three flights down, he emerged.

Besides the guarded underground parking area, the hospital had two main
ground-floor exits, one directly in front of him, the other near the
emergency room on the opposite side of the building. Since the kid was
on foot, Walters had a fifty-fifty chance of catching the bastard.

Like dominoes falling, botching the Prosser girl's murder the first time
had set off a chain reaction of outrageous proportions. Even now he knew
he could've had Williams in the palm of his hand if he hadn't had to
take care of the professor and the girl's mother first. And if he didn't
know better, he would've sworn that damned kid had more lives than Wile
E. Coyote.

He'd better enjoy his last few minutes, Walters thought. Because I'm
really going to enjoy putting a bullet right between his eyes, with or
without the damned crossbow! It's time for this nightmare to end.


Chapter 9.


Jace rushed off the elevator on the second floor, charging down the hall
past a waiting room packed with people.

Weaving through the confusing maze, he flew around a corner and ran
straight into an elderly black man, sending them both sprawling to the
floor.

The impact made Jace cry out. He was shaking so hard his feet kept
slipping on the slick floor when he tried to get up, but he knew he had
to keep going. When the old man grabbed him by his shirt, he was too
weak to get away. "Let go of me!" he cried.

Calmly, the man shook his head, his eyes stern yet tolerant as he stared
at Jace. The expression on the man's face seemed to be one of confusion
and bewilderment, as if he didn't know what to say. Finally Jace asked,
"What're you staring at? Did I grow an extra nose or something?" As if a
trance had been broken, the man shook his head.

"Sorry. It's just you look so much like someone I know."

"That's real nice, but I gotta get out of here."

"Not until you tell me what your problem is." Jace's eyes darted
nervously back and forth, trying to figure a way out. Nurses were
rushing toward them. His heart was pounding a million times a minute.

Seeing the unwanted attention they were drawing, the man looked Jace
right in the eye. "It's all right, son. If you promise not to run, I'll
help you. Just calm down." Knowing there was no other way out, Jace
simply nodded.

As an orderly and a nurse slid to a stop, the old man said, "It's okay,
Mildred. We just didn't see each other."

"You know this kid?" the nurse asked skeptically.

"Sure. He lives in my neighborhood. Came up to see how Alice was doing."
Jace merely stared at the floor and nodded, but the nurse and orderly
seemed convinced. Once they were out of sight, he asked, "You crazy or
what?" The old man smiled, answering, "Maybe. My name's George. What's
yours?" He considered lying but muttered, "Jace."

"Who are you running from, Jace?"

"Nobody."

"Could've fooled me. You know, I've seen lots of sick folks in my time,
and you're looking pretty puny. How'd you end up here?"

"The question is, how do I get outta here?"

"Seems easy enough to me. There's the elevator." Jace shook his head.
"Won't work."

"Police after you?"

"No. Some crazy white dude thinks he's gonna kill me for stealing his
car." George thought for a moment. "Did you steal his car?" Jace nodded.

"You planning on ruining your whole life pulling stunts like that?" He
shrugged.

"I'll help you, because you remind me of my own son, and because you
look like you could use my help. But stealing isn't the way to live.
You're only gonna be in this world a little while. It's time you figure
out if you want to trash your life or do things right. A man who knows
he's done good can always hold his head high, no matter who he is."

"I've heard it all before ...  What makes you so sure you could help me,
anyway?" George smiled. "I was a janitor in this place for thirty years.
I know every inch of this building." Jace looked around. "What're you
doin' here now?" Worry creased George's brow. "My wife got real sick
this afternoon. But she's out of surgery, and the doctors say she's
going to be just fine. God answered my prayers tonight.

When God smiles on a man, he should show he's thankful by helping
someone else."

"That's great, but I really gotta get outta here. Fast." George cocked
his head. "Then come with me." Jace followed him, surprised how painful
it was to start walking again. They went through a maze of hallways and
service elevators until they emerged somewhere deep inside the
employees' underground parking garage. George led him through several
rows of cars, stopping at an old Dodge van. He pulled out his car keys
and opened the side door. "I can't leave just yet, but if you'll stay
awhile, soon as I get a chance I'll get you some food and a place to
rest."

"Thanks, George. Hope your wife is okay." George rolled down each of the
front windows a couple of inches, then said as he slid the side door
closed, "Think about what I said. You're the only one responsible for
your life. Not your parents. Not some guy who wants to hurt you. Just
you." He started to leave, then turned back. "Does your mother know
you're okay?" Jace shook his head.

"I could call her for you. Tell her you're going to stay with me for a
while." Jace nodded, mumbling his phone number. He watched George walk
back toward the building and disappear into the stairwell, wondering why
anyone would want to help him. Leaning against the seat, he was tempted
to lie down and sleep until this nightmare ended. Instead, he knew what
he had to do.

Enough light came through the windows to show him there were no tools in
the back of the van. Jace gasped when he knocked his broken arm while
wedging himself through the narrow space between the back and front
seat, then moaned when his head bumped the roof. Opening the glove box,
he rummaged through years of trash until he found an old screwdriver and
a rusty pocketknife.

Easing himself onto the front floorboard, he bent to look under the
steering column. His head pounded as blood rushed to it, launching a
wave of nausea that made him crumple to the floor. Jace lay motionless
for several minutes, waiting for the pain to pass before he tried to
start again. Each movement seemed to take hours, every stage a different
battle.

Hot-wiring a car was hard enough with two good hands.

It was next to impossible with only one. Sparks flew as the third wire
made contact. The van's motor turned over in a matter of seconds, and
Jace finally exhaled. His head fell painfully to the dirty floor mat as
he listened to the miraculous sound of the engine idling.

He wondered what time it was, then moved his head so he could see the
digital clock on the dashboard. If it was right, what should have been
accomplished in just a few minutes actually took over an hour. With
great effort he managed to sit up, then move into the driver's seat.

His good hand gripped the gear shift as he slipped the van into reverse.
The transmission groaned and the van lurched backward when he gave it
some gas. Halfway out of the parking space he put his foot on the brake
and shifted into drive. The van eased back into the exact same spot it
had been in all along. He slammed it into park and laid his head on the
steering wheel.

Jace couldn't do it. When he closed his eyes, his mother's tears poured
through his soul until he thought he would drown. His shame was
intensified by George's kindness, and his searing words: It's time you
figure out if you want to trash your life, or do things right ...
Crawling back on the floorboard, Jace disconnected the wires and the
engine died. In less than a minute, he was sound asleep.

Ashe and Rae were solemn when they arrived at rescue's headquarters.
When they went through the front door to the lobby, Rae gently touched
his arm. "Why don't we sit here and talk for a while? It's such a
beautiful place." He shrugged and followed her to a wooden bench.

"We need to call the police, don't we?" she asked.

"I've been thinking about that. What in the world are we going to tell
them?"

"Exactly what Margaret told us."

"Do you realize how fanatical we're going to sound?" he asked.

Rae leaned against the bench and thought for a few seconds.

"You're worried because the grand jury didn't hand down any indictments
when Marilyn Prosser died, aren't you?"

"I know you haven't been here long, Rae, but one thing we try very hard
to do is keep our reputation clean. We try not to make huge
waves--that's Greenpeace's strategy, not ours. In order to survive,
we've got to play the corporate game, and we've got to play it well.
That means making sure we don't become so controversial that potential
investors are scared away. Right now we're surviving on Nathan's funds,
but our future depends on outside capital.

Without it we're dead."

"Appropriate choice of words, considering everything."

"Sorry." Rae stood, pacing to and from the water's edge. "Then, what are
we going to do?" she asked.

"First, we're going to call Brada. She may have a contact at the police
department who will look into Margaret's death without spreading the
word around that RESCUE was involved in another murder."

"We'd better do it fast," Rae said.

"Why?"

"I didn't see anyone treating that cubicle like a crime scene. Plus,
Margaret's body should be autopsied. If she's cremated like Marilyn was,
any forensic evidence will be gone forever."

"You scare me sometimes. How in the world did you know Marilyn's body
was cremated?" Rae cocked her head. "I don't suppose you'd believe it
was intuition?"

"No."

"Okay, you're right. Brada told me about Marilyn's memorial service when
we were at the HER site. She said it was heartbreaking to see someone so
young and innocent killed because they wanted to do the right thing."

"Maybe Brada will have an idea how we can get our hands on the
information Margaret was planning to give us, too.

She has a reputation as being very resourceful."

"That's right, a true zero-tolerance woman." Wrapping his arm around
her, Ashe managed a weak but worried smile. "I seem to be surrounded by
them." The next morning in Midland, Texas, Karl Ross arrived at work
before the sun peeked over the horizon, even though it was Saturday. He
was too excited, too anxious to sleep.

For years he had known only some of the intricate details of the
Protection Program, and now that it was all in his hands, the feeling of
power was almost overwhelming.

When news of the Prosser girl's death had come, it had had no more
effect on him than watching an evening news report of any other
stranger's demise.

But yesterday's confirmation of the deaths of Margaret Prosser and
Professor Tolmin had been different. He was directly responsible for
them. No one else. What would have nauseated most people only made him
more aware of the incredible potential his future held. The amount of
money at his disposal was almost unfathomable. It could buy anything.

Anyone.

Staring at the phone, he knew it would ring in the next ten minutes. The
people Kelmar had dealt with were extremely punctual, very professional
in their attention to detail, and quietly lethal. He was grateful for
those traits, even though that nagging voice in the back of his mind
warned that the same abilities could easily be turned against him.

The phone rang. He picked it up, simply saying, "Yes."

"Now that everything is under control again, we need to talk." His hand
was shaking from the edge of nervous excitement. "That's why I'm here."

"Do you plan to continue Kelmar's activities?" Ross drew a deep breath,
then said, "Of course."

"Good. Do you feel you can handle all future issues alone?" After
several seconds Ross replied, "I don't feel I'm in a position to make
that decision at this time. Kelmar could've had arrangements with
outside parties that I'm not yet aware of. Until I have time to sort
through everything I've inherited, so to speak, I won't know what kind
of expertise I may need."

"I need a commitment. Do you want to continue at my offered price or
not?"

"I'll need to know exactly what services I'm paying for."

"You're paying for observation and damage control. Yesterday's timely
deaths were proof of the efficiency of the information I can provide.
Both Margaret Prosser and the good professor could have destroyed your
precious empire."

"True. Define observation."

"Let's just say I have ways of protecting your interests.

I warned you in time, didn't I? Yet you haven't forwarded the money. I
thought we already had a deal."

"Okay, okay. I'll need a few days to get you the money." Silence.

"A few hours?" Ross asked.

"I don't have time to play games, nor do I wish to be involved with
anyone who can't handle responsibility. Wire it in the next three hours,
or not at all."

"It will be there." Ross cradled the phone, controlling the urge to stop
the plan before it spiraled out of control. A sense of impending doom
wrapped around him, threatening to steal the thrill of his newfound
power.

Standing, he shook off the dread, knowing he couldn't let his panic stop
what had worked for years. Besides, with that cold-hearted bitch on
Petroco's side, they could do anything they ever dreamed, and more.

The lobby of RESCUE was quiet on Saturday morning.

Too quiet. Every falling droplet echoed in the entryway as Rae
sluggishly walked past the waterfall, then up the stairs with the
morning newspaper tucked under her arm. Although she planned to read the
rest of the paper, the sound of raised voices coming from Ashes office
was too much for her to ignore.

Ashe and Brada were in the middle of a heated discussion when she
quietly knocked. They both stopped talking to glare at her. "Should I
come back later?" she timidly asked.

Ashe walked toward Rae, relaxing slightly. "Of course not. Come in. When
we left last night, things were in limbo since we couldn't get through
to either Brada or Nathan. I'll bring you up to speed, and you can join
in the discussion." Rae raised her eyebrows. "If that was a discussion,
I'd hate to hear you two having a full-blown argument." Brada laughed.
"We don't pussyfoot around. It's much healthier and faster to say what's
on your mind. Get straight to the point." Rae nodded. "If you say so."
Ashe explained, "Nathan called me at home around midnight, and I finally
got through to Brada at one o'clock this morning. We all agreed Brada
was needed here, so she flew back. Believe it or not, we've only been
here about ten minutes." Brada said, "Ashe told me what happened to
Margaret on the trip from the airport. We were just in the middle of
discussing how to report it. I'm afraid, as usual, he disagrees with my
tactics." Ashe chimed in, "Her tactics are a little on the illegal side.
Brada thinks we should get proof before we contact the authorities with
our suspicions--" Brada interrupted, "Because the police didn't take us
seriously, and the killer is still out there! The diary Margaret found
had incriminating evidence, but it was never disclosed to the grand
jury. I think we have to find a way to thoroughly check all of Marilyn's
things, so this time nothing falls through the cracks. Who knows, maybe
Margaret wouldn't be dead if they'd uncovered the truth earlier." Ashe
said, "And, of course, Brada doesn't want to wait for the police to
handle things. She thinks we should mosey over to Medicdata and check
the place out for ourselves, which I think is ludicrous." Brada snapped,
"We don't all have to go. Just one of us.

Even though I've been up most of the night, I'd prefer to do it myself.
They said her computer blew, which gives us a perfect cover. I'd make a
convincing delivery person. I could take in a new machine and bring the
old one out in a matter of minutes. Jim, down in Technical Assistance,
could have a field day trying to find anything salvageable on her hard
drive."

"No way," Ashe countered.

Rae agreed, "I don't think it's a great idea, either. We'd be stealing
confidential Medicdata information, not to mention their equipment.
Besides, if we did find something still on the machine, how could the
police use it as evidence?" Brada said, "And if they don't investigate
her death as if it was a murder, they won't find anything anyway.
Right?"

"If we're dealing with professionals, what makes either of you think
anything was left behind?" Ashe asked. "Suppose they killed her because
they knew she was going to turn over the evidence. What kind of murderer
would leave without destroying all the files?" Brada said, "A pro
wouldn't. That's why her computer was ruined. Somehow they knew
everything she had was on her hard drive, and since unlocking her
password to erase only certain files would take valuable time, they
eliminated the problem, then eliminated her." "And next they eliminate
us?" Rae asked. "Like Andy and the HER site?" No one spoke for several
seconds. Finally Rae asked, "Ashe, what were the initials of that U.C.
professor Marilyn referred to in her diary?"

"KT, I think."

"That's what I thought." Rae opened the newspaper and pulled out the
city/state section. She pointed at a small article inside: UC
ENGINEERING PROFESSOR DIES AT 53 Kelsey Tolmin, a professor with the
University of California, collapsed and died of an apparent heart attack
on his way to class yesterday.

Mr. Tolmin was a native Californian, born and raised in Stockton. He
held degrees in both engineering and physics, and has been a faculty
member with the university for over fifteen years.

In lieu of flowers, the family wishes donations be made to a scholarship
fund established in Professor Tolmin's memory. A memorial service will
be held at the University Chapel at noon Sunday.

Rae asked, "Do you think he was the"KT' in Marilyn's journal?" Brada and
Ashe exchanged a knowing glance as he said, "Probably. They're tying up
all their loose ends. Something spooked them." Rae started to pace. "Am
I the only one who's getting really scared? First Marilyn dies in a
suspicious car wreck; then her mother and one of her professors die on
the same day. There's no way this is all a coincidence!"

"I couldn't agree with you more!" Ashe replied. "We just have to figure
out a way to catch the people responsible for this."

"You sound as if you know exactly who's behind all this." Brada said,
"We do. It has Petroco written all over it." Shaking her head, Rae said,
"But Petroco is in a crisis of its own right now. Its CEO was murdered
the other night.

Right?" Ashe thought for a moment. "Maybe we are barking up the wrong
tree. The problem is, who else would want Marilyn, Margaret, and this
Tolmin guy dead?" Nathan stuck his head in the door. "No one. Brada's
right.

This is Petroco's work, just like the problems at the HER site. And for
the icing on the cake, you won't believe what just came by certified
mail." Nathan held up a thick legal document. "Petroco is suing us for
the full replacement cost of rig 114. They claim the EPA received
reports of 'unmanageable' levels of radioactivity in and on their
equipment.

Explain to me how they got their hands on that tidbit of information."
Ashe shrugged. "Last I heard, we were going to leave the EPA out of this
until a specialist could test the site in more depth to determine
exactly what we're up against." Nathan nodded. "The only person I told
was my lawyer and friend, Sherrie Rosen. She hasn't said a word about
the HER site to anyone. She was as shocked as we were that information
had leaked, and even more surprised the EPA would confirm or issue any
kind of report at this stage.

As you'd expect, they have a reputation for being slow to respond."
Brada ran her hands through her hair and headed out the door. "I need
some caffeine. Anyone else?" They all shook their heads as Rae said,
"Frankly, I'm not surprised at all by the lawsuit." Even though she felt
comfortable with these people, the probing look Nathan shot her
instantly reminded her exactly where she fit in the corporate chain. She
looked down, took a deep breath, then said, "What I meant was, if
Petroco was responsible for sabotaging the well, then they would know
exactly how it was contaminated. They could file an anonymous report
with the EPA, then proceed with their lawsuit. It was probably part of
their plan all along." Nathan smiled. "You think like I do."

"Ashe and I have been discussing the possibility of luring Petroco, or
whoever is doing this, into a trap." With a gleam in his eye Nathan
asked, "What did you have in mind?" Rae apprehensively shot Ashe a look
to gain his approval, then continued, "So far, nothing spectacular. We
could spread a rumor that we're transferring all our HER funds to a
different drilling site. I know it isn't any of my business, Nathan, but
are you planning on selling any RESCUE stock anytime soon?"

"No. I'm hoping we can make it at least another year without outside
investors. Once they get hold of you, things are never the same."

"Since you own the majority of the stock, all rescue's financial records
are confidential. Right?" she asked.

Nathan nodded. "Only our controller and a few of our suppliers have
copies. Plus the bank, of course."

"Then a rumor that the next HER investment will either make or break the
company could help bring in the vultures.

If someone is trying to guarantee our failure, they may not be able to
resist such an easy way to finish us off.

Maybe they'll swoop in for the kill a little prematurely." Ashe laughed.
"And get caught in our turbines." Answering Nathan's inquisitive glance,
he added, "It's a long story. Let's just say Rae has a brilliant idea. I
guess it's pretty hard to shake off that accounting background of yours,
isn't it, Rae?" Rae blushed. "I suppose so." Nathan agreed excitedly, "I
think it's a great idea. But how do we do it?" Rae answered, "I took
home the files on several sites last night. There's another abandoned
deep-gas well in the Anadarko Basin, about five miles north of our
previous location. It wouldn't be prime property if we were really
drilling, but for this it may be perfect since it's covered in the
surface lease we already have. Some equipment could even be moved from
the first site since it's so close. That'll make things look really
convincing without costing an arm and a leg."

"Considering Petroco is suing us, I doubt if we'd be able to get our
hands on a rig," Ashe said.

Rae nodded. "And a rig would be too expensive to set up anyway. We
shouldn't need one to be convincing for a few weeks. Just having some of
our people milling around may be enough." Nathan said, "Sounds like you
planned for everything." Rae raised her eyebrows. "Not quite. I have no
idea what to do if we catch them." It was past noon when Nathan walked
out the front door of RESCUE. He was immediately approached by two men
who emerged from a forest green Suburban parked near the curb. The
taller man gruffly asked, "Are you Nathan Greenwall?"

"Yes. Can I help you?" They both flashed badges as one said, "We're
homicide detectives. If you don't mind coming downtown, we'd like to ask
you a few questions. Of course, you don't have to answer anything
without your lawyer present." Stunned, Nathan asked, "Questions about
what?"

"The murder of Charles Kelmar."

Chapter 10.


Monday mornings were normally quiet at RESCUE, as employees recovered
from their busy weekends. Most had an extra cup of coffee at their desk
while they slowly eased back into their daily business routines. But
this Monday was different. The crowd that gathered in the employee break
area almost vibrated with restless anticipation and tension.

Ashe carefully listened to tidbits of various overlapping conversations
until it was apparent how twisted the story had become. He stood in the
doorway disappointedly shaking his head for several seconds before he
shouted, "Excuse me! Excuse me! All of you, listen up!" Discussions
slowly dwindled until all eyes turned his way.

Raising his voice, he said, "I'm not sure how things like this spread,
but I know you've all heard the rumors about several RESCUE employees,
including Nathan Greenwall, being questioned by the police this weekend.
First, let me assure you that neither he, nor anyone else, has been
arrested.

"As a matter of fact, right now I'm on my way to his office to meet with
him. From what I understand, people are saying he's a suspect in last
week's killing of the head of Petroco, Chuck Kelmar. Each of you who has
worked with Nathan could end such a vicious lie. He is one of the most
generous, giving men I've ever had the honor of working with, and I am
shocked and irritated his employees would believe such utter nonsense."
Suddenly, people began shifting back and forth, their eyes downcast in
shame.

Ashe continued, "Nathan has devoted his life to making the world a
better place, and to providing all of us the opportunity to get paid for
doing what we love. I, for one, plan to stand behind him and support him
in any way I can." Heads nodded.

"Now, I think we all have work to do. If anything happens to Nathan or
to RESCUE, rest assured you will be notified. In the meantime, we need
to show Nathan we're backing both the company, and him, one hundred
percent." Ashe watched the crowd disperse, then turned and briskly
walked down the hall and up the stairs to Nathan's office.

Dinell smiled sheepishly from behind her desk. "How'd it go?" she asked.

"I didn't knock any heads together, if that's what you're asking.
Although it would've been a pleasure. Apparently, loyalty is tougher to
find than I thought." She shifted nervously, turning to stare at her
computer.

Ashe motioned to the closed door of Nathan's office as he impatiently
paced, asking, "Is he in yet?" She shook her head. "He called from his
house and said he'd overslept and he'd be here a little late. I'm glad
you broke up the mob scene before he arrived."

"Me, too." Dinell was unusually fidgety, her fingers tapping on her
desk. "Ashe, did they question you?" He stopped pacing. "No. Did the
police call you?" She nodded. "A detective came by my house early
yesterday morning, just as I was leaving for church. He said they only
wanted to ask a few routine questions. I know he had Brada on his list
to contact, and he asked me if I knew which security guard would've been
on duty the night Chuck Kelmar was killed. When I told him we didn't use
security guards, he looked at me like I was crazy. They asked a lot of
rather pointed questions, Ashe."

"If they talked to that many people, it explains the rumors that have
popped up. I wonder who else they called."

"From what I've heard, you and Rae are about the only ones who spend
much time around Nathan that they didn't call yet. The detective is
probably holding off since I told him you were both at the HER site in
Oklahoma the night of the murder."

"Exactly what kind of questions did he ask?"

"At first just background things. How long have I worked here? What kind
of place is RESCUE to work? Do I think the people who work here are
happy? How do people feel about the oil industry, about Petroco, in
particular? You know, general information. But then the questions
started targeting Mr. Greenwall. Does he have a bad temper? Does he
drink a lot? Have I have heard him threaten anyone?

Has he had any recent meetings with Mr. Kelmar? Did they argue?" Dinell
took a deep breath, then continued, "I feel just terrible about all
this. I told them the truth, Ashe. Everything happened so fast, and I
wasn't expecting them. I didn't have time to think about how it would
look--especially how he crumpled up the newspaper article about Chuck
Kelmar and threw it across the room. And, even worse, what happened the
day before the murder. It just didn't dawn on me to lie!" "Calm down,"
Ashe said. "No one here expects you to lie about anything. What in the
world are you talking about?"

"Mr. Greenwall ordered me to take the afternoon before the murder off.
He said I'd been working way too hard, and that he didn't want to see me
back here until noon the next day."

"So?"

"So  ...  I don't know! The detective really snagged on that for some
reason. He kept asking why I needed the time off, and when I told him
Mr. Greenwall was just being generous, he acted like he didn't believe
me."

"Is that all you're worried about?"

"No. I'm worried about other things I told them, too."

"Which are?"

"That two weeks ago when Mr. Kelmar and Mr. Ross were here, I could hear
them arguing. I heard Mr. Greenwall accuse them of trying to make sure
our geothermal test well was a financial disaster. And, worse still,
that not too long after that meeting you discovered the HER well had
been contaminated with radiation and the site was ruined." Ashe paled.
He should have realized Dinell would know everything about the HER
problems, but it never dawned on him how incriminating the situation
would appear to be. "Is that all?", She shook her head. "It gets worse."
Ashe tried to make her feel better by smiling and saying, "So far all
you've described is a typical adversarial business relationship. Last
time I checked, that wasn't a crime."

"But I told them what Mr. Greenwall said when I gave him the newspaper
article describing Chuck Kelmar's promotion to CEO of Petroco." She was
shaking, extremely upset.

"It couldn't have been that bad, Dinell."

"We were talking about what a hypocrite Mr. Kelmar was, about how he
professed to be a Christian when he was the least Christian person we
knew." Ashe stared at her until she finished.

A tear ran down her cheek as she muttered, "Ashe, I told them I heard
him say how the Kelmar problem could be solved!"

"So?" "He said something like, "I'd enjoy putting a bullet right between
his eyes!"

"Wake up, boy. You need to eat." Jace forced himself to open his eyes,
even though the morning light streaming in the window stung them. He
groggily scanned the tiny bedroom before hoarsely asking, "Where am I?"
George chuckled. "I wondered if you've been out for a whole day. I figured
you could! so I let you be. But you need to drink some water, or; get
even sicker. I've got a can of chicken noodle soup heating on the stove
to warm you up. Bet a growing boy like you eats quite a bit. Your head
still hurt? Yesterday you said it was pounding pretty hard." Jace slowly
remembered George helping him" taking him in, telling him to rest, and
...  the white guy who wanted to kill him! He bolted upright in bed and
instantly regretted it. Holding his head with his good hand, he mumbled,
"What day is it?" George gently pushed him back down. "Monday. But you
listen to me, son. Don't go being stupid again. You need to rest.
Promise me you won't do nothing crazy like try to leave." Jace didn't
respond; he merely stared wide-eyed at George, as if he were trying to
decide which of them was crazier.

After several seconds George said, "Either you promise, or you can leave
right now--without eating any of that chicken soup that's smelling so
good. I'm not gonna feed you just so you can get your strength back,
then go out and get yourself killed. Understand?"

"Yeah."

"Promise?" Jace hesitated, then asked, "Yeah. How's your wife?" George
smiled. "So you do remember. She's doing real fine, may be back home in
a few days. Now, try to sit up, and I'll go get you some food. You
willing to tell me your real name yet?"

"It really is Jace." As he walked away, George shook his head and
mumbled to himself, "Jace? Whatever happened to names like Bill, Joe,
and Bob?" Rae hung up the phone and turned to face Ashe. "It's all set.
I've arranged for the site to be cleared and the mobile home to be moved
next week." Ashe unenthusiastically replied, "Good job. Now it's my turn
to get busy. I'll have tents set up after the land is cleared.

We'll reactivate our accounts in Elk City, and put out the word we may
be looking for contract help. At least it will look like a lot's going
on, even if it isn't. Probably wouldn't hurt for the two of us to
schedule a trip out there." Rae's eyes searched his. "I know we haven't
known each other for long, but you seem really down today. Anything I
can do to help?" Brada barged into the room and interrupted by saying,
"Probably not. He's got a good reason to be down. Dinell said Nathan
just called from the police station. They formally arrested him before
he left his house this morning." Rae was shocked. "For what?" she asked.

Ashe answered, "First-degree murder. But it isn't as bad as it sounds."

"How can being charged with first-degree murder not be as bad as it
sounds?" Brada asked sarcastically.

"He's innocent. All we have to do is keep calm and find him a good
lawyer," Ashe replied.

Rae agreed. "Nathan doesn't seem to be the type to do such a thing."

"Still, it looks really bad." Brada hesitated as she reacted to the
stunned glares cast her way by Ashe and Rae, then continued, "It's just
...  I was there the morning after the murder. Nathan was not himself,
but I didn't tell the police." Ashe defensively crossed his arms.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Brada reciprocated his irritated tone of
voice with an equally defensive one of her own. "Listen, I care as much,
if not more, for Nathan than you do, Ashe Freeman, and I'm not saying he
did it. What I am saying is that it looks pretty bad. Apparently the Las
Vegas police wanted mm arrested days ago. They waited this long only
because the D.A. wanted to be damn sure they were right before they
brought in such a high-profile person. Supposedly they've built a hell
of a case against him." "Such as?" Ashe asked.

"I wish I knew. Our best bet at this stage would be to find the most
aggressive lawyer in town. But before we do anything, we need to talk to
Nathan. He has probably already contacted someone. From what I heard,
they not only questioned him this weekend, they took blood samples.
Surely he didn't go through all that without calling an attorney." Ashe
said, "I'll bet he did. After all, from his viewpoint he's just being
cooperative. He probably assumed if he answered their questions, they'd
realize it couldn't have been him and leave him alone. Brada, what did
you tell the police about the morning after the murder?"

"Nothing. I didn't tell them Nathan had been drinking that night. All I
said was that I woke him in his office about seven the next morning."

"How do you know he'd been drinking?"

"There was an empty bottle of Dominus on his desk."

"But Nathan doesn't drink," Ashe said.

"That's why I asked him about it that morning. He said he had a headache
the night before, so he had a drink."

"Where would he have come up with a bottle of Dominus?"

"He said someone sent it to him." Rae asked, "How could he have made it
to Vegas and back in time?" Brada answered, "The police say he paid cash
for a round-trip flight. Quit staring at me like that! Unlike some of
the people who work here, I didn't tell the police a damn thing!" Ashe
nodded. "Actually, it sounds like you were pretty uncooperative."

"Of course I was. We have to stick by him. That's why I purposely left
out the most incriminating piece of information!" she shouted.

"Which was?"

"That Nathan had a fresh cut on his forearm. Right through his shirt,
and he said he didn't even remember how he got it." Ashes eyes clouded
as he contemplated the ramifications of what he had heard. "No shit."

"Yes, shit!" Brada stood. "We can plot how to help him later. Right now
I promised to meet Dinell. She's pretty distraught about the whole mess,
maybe a little too much so. You know, we'd better be careful around
her."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, she's being awfully cooperative with the police.

Maybe a little too cooperative. Doesn't it strike you as odd that the
one day she decides to take off, the shit hits the fan?"

"Why are you meeting with her?"

"Apparently there's a pile of reports that have to be reviewed and some
sales agreements that need signatures. I figured the least I could do
was volunteer to help organize things so we can go over them with
Nathan. Besides, someone will have to run things while he's gone." Brada
started to leave, then popped her head back in the door to say, "By the
way, Ashe, would you mind being the one to issue an employee memo about
all this?" He sighed. "I'll get right on it." When Ashe was certain
Brada was gone, he slumped into a chair next to Rae. "This doesn't make
sense. In fact, it's giving me an overwhelming sense of deja flu." "Deja
flu?" Rae asked with raised eyebrows.

"It's sort of like deja vu, but deja flu is when something revolting
flashes through your mind and makes you sick to your stomach." Shaking
her head, she said, "At least you haven't lost your sense of humor."

"What's that old saying, something about it being better to laugh in the
face of adversity than cry  ..." Rae leaned toward him, her gaze holding
his. "I meant what I said. Nathan didn't kill anyone. I just know it.
He's not a violent man, and he's very intelligent. What would he have to
gain from killing Kelmar? I interviewed with Petroco a month ago. It's a
huge corporation. Places like that don't change because one person is
gone. Someone else just slides into their place like a shark replaces a
lost tooth. I think the real question here is. Who's trying to frame
Nathan, and why?" Ashe smiled. "As usual, you're right, and sitting here
isn't helping him one bit. For starters, I think I'll run downstairs and
put some pressure on the lab. I know they're swamped, but now we really
need to understand what that black box you noticed in Nathan's office is
for."

"Are we going ahead with the plans on the fake HER site?"

"Unfortunately, I think it's more important now than ever." Walters
yawned for the thousandth time Tuesday morning as he listened to his
secretary cover everything he had missed in the last few days. She was
accustomed to handling everything during his prolonged absences after
all these years.

Having spent an unsuccessful Saturday night at the hospital and all day
Sunday chasing phantoms, he'd given up Monday and flown back to Denver.
He needed to rest and regroup, develop a foolproof scheme to stop Jace
Williams once and for all.

That was the problem with the last few days. There had been no time to
plan. He suddenly realized his secretary was asking him a question. "I'm
sorry, what did you say?" he asked.

"I asked if you were feeling all right. You don't look very well at all,
Mr. Walters. Can I get you something to drink? An aspirin?"

"A whole bottle of aspirin might be enough to help, but don't bother. I
think I'm going to have to go home and hit the sack. This bug I picked
up in California is a real killer.'' "I was shocked to hear about that
nic& man from RESCUE being arrested. Who would have guessed?" Walters
acted nonchalant, even though he was inwardly pleased with the fruits of
his labor. Maybe things were finally going to go his way. "What are you
talking about?" he asked innocently.

"Nathan Greenwall was arrested for murder. I still have this morning's
paper if you want it." Nodding, he said, "I have to read about it. It
could directly impact our sales to RESCUE. You'd better notify our
controller to immediately put a flag on their credit line, possibly even
demand a letter of credit be in place before we ship any more filters."

"Yes, sir." She left, then returned with the newspaper.

The article was buried on the second page of the business section:
RESCUE, INC., PRESIDENT ARRESTED Nathan Greenwall, the president and
founder of RESCUE, Inc., a California-based corporation specializing in
the development of renewable energy sources, was arrested on murder
charges in the case of Charles Kelmar, the newly appointed CEO of
Petroco.

Sources say Greenwall has been despondent over the failure of rescue's
latest undertaking, conversion of an abandoned oil and gas well in the
Anadarko Basin of Oklahoma to an alternative-energy source commonly
known as Hot Dry Rock. The company reportedly lost millions of dollars
when they were forced to abandon the project after the site was
apparently sabotaged. RESCUE was leasing Petroco drilling equipment at
the site.

Charles Kelmar was killed in his Las Vegas hotel room three days ago.
Sources indicate Greenwall and Kelmar were openly hostile toward each
other. Las Vegas police confirmed Greenwall is the only suspect this time, and
that they will seek to extradite as soon as possible.

Walters' heart was pounding in his ears as he read the sentence again.
The company reportedly lost millions of dollars when they were forced to
abandon the project after the site was apparently sabotaged.

He was certain he had defiled a Petroco oil well in the Anadarko Basin,
not an HER site. Their damned sign declaring it to be Petroco #114 had
even been lit with spotlights bright enough for the whole world to see.
His fight was against Petroco, and everything it stood for, not RESCUE!

Closing his eyes, he remembered each recent job. The senators, the
college girl, the oil well, the professor, the girl's mother, and
finally, framing Nathan Greenwall. He had managed to suck money out of
Petroco while punishing the traitors, but his RESCUE source must have
lied to him about the oil well  ...  and about Greenwall. Walters tasted
bile when the pieces of the puzzle finally started to come together.

The bitch must have been using him all along!

"Are you cross-eyed yet?" Ashe asked.

"Almost," Rae answered.

"I'll bet you never expected your degree in geology to land you in a
basement looking at security photos."

"True. But I didn't exactly expect it to land me in the middle of
nowhere covered with radioactive mud, either.

At least this is a little safer."

"Let's hope so."

"I'd have never guessed there were cameras in the lobby.

Even after I knew where to look, I had a really hard time spotting them.
Mother Nature provides great camouflage." He nodded. "Has anyone told
you why we added the hidden surveillance cameras a few years ago?"

"Nope. I assumed it was same reason every other business does, to
protect its assets and employees."

"Yes and no. We were pretty trusting until we were hit."

"Were the cameras installed because RESCUE got robbed?" He laughed as he
shook his head. "Actually, it was because of a prank. Someone added a
bottle of kid's bubbles to the Natureair waterfall one night. You can
imagine what happened by the next morning."

"I'll bet that was quite an experience," she said. "And I can imagine
the manhunt it took to capture the culprit.

What'd they book him on?"

"First-degree murder."

"You're kidding!"

"Actually, I am. We never caught anyone. Until then we didn't have much
of a security system at all. But, unfortunately, that little prank cost
a shitload of money. The bubbles killed most of the fish, algae, even
some of the plants.

So we became a little more cautious. Now an outside security firm
maintains the cameras just in case anything happens again."

"Do they monitor them?"

"I don't think so. The magnetic locks on the front door supposedly will
keep just anyone from wandering in after hours."

"I know." She nodded toward the monitor. "I've been watching various
employees and the cleaning people come and go all night. Sometimes
caution is a good thing," she said.

"Have you found anything yet?" he asked.

"I've only covered the day before the murder so far. No one came into
the building that day carrying a bottle of wine. At least not openly."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning four people came in carrying bags large enough for a bottle of
wine to fit completely inside."

"All employees?" She shrugged and said, "At least two of them are. Quite
frankly, after watching this for three hours, everyone is starting to
look alike."

"Which employees did you recognize?"

"Dinell and Brada. These are the others." She moved the arrow backward,
freeze-framing two images.

Ashe nodded. "The first guy is Greg Burns. He's head of our Solar/Wind
division. Doesn't surprise me he'd have a gym bag. He works out
religiously in rescue's fitness center. The other man is vaguely
familiar. I think he's one of our suppliers, but I'm not sure. Can we
print a copy of this frame somehow?"

"These digital cameras are awesome, especially the way the two units
alternate pictures. I think we can get a print, but I don't know how.
I'd be happy to track down the company we lease them from and find out."

"That'd be great." He started to leave, then stopped and added, "Thanks,
Rae. Your attitude really means a lot to me.

In fact, I'm beginning to wonder how we survived around here before you
came along."

"I'm sure you did just fine."

"I don't want to upset you, but the lab finished with that black box
from Nathan's office. It's quite a complicated contraption. At first
glance they thought it was just a miniature air filter that worked like
the larger, electrostatic ones.

But when they dismantled it, they found a sophisticated electronic
listening device inside as well." Puzzled, Rae asked, "Why listen to
what you're filtering?

Are they sure that's what it is?"

"Positive. They even found the frequency and tested it.

Apparently it has a range of almost half a mile. This could be the break
we're looking for. Brada's going to talk to Nathan about it tonight."
With wide eyes Rae said, "So someone could've heard our conversation
with Margaret Prosser! That's how the bastards knew she was going to
turn over Marilyn's information that night!" Ashe smiled and nodded.
"Exactly." Nathan was shocked to see Sherrie Rosen waiting for him in
the small room used for prisoners to consult their attorneys.

"What in the world are you doing here?" he asked.

"I thought you were swamped handling the late senators' estates." Before
uttering a word, she embraced him. It was a long, warm greeting.
Stepping back, she took his hands in hers and said, "You'd expect me to
stay in New York when one of my best friends is in trouble?" He hugged
her again. "I'm honored." She smiled. "You gave me a good excuse to
delegate for once, and I brought work with me, so I'm not totally
playing hooky. With fax machines and overnight mail, they won't even
know I'm gone." He loved the way her words flowed through him, warming
every part of his body. "Thanks for coming, Sherrie. It really means a
lot to me." She stepped back, her brown eyes probing his. "I must admit,
I am pretty hurt."

"Why?"

"I thought we were good friends, Nathan. You could've called. I know I
spend all my time working, and that I really should watch the news or
read the paper, but still ... Do you know how I found out you'd been
arrested?" He shook his head and meekly asked, "From one of the other
lawyers?"

"I should be so lucky. I saw it at the grocery store, for God's sake!
You're on the cover of this week's Nation's Inquired." She pulled out a
copy of the paper and handed it to him. "I must have no shame. I
actually bought the damned thing. Hopefully, no one I know saw me, or my
reputation will be ruined forever." He laughed, then scanned the article
and dejectedly said, "Is this true? Do they really have enough evidence
to convict me?"

"That's why I'm here. I know I'm not up on criminal law, but I couldn't
rest until I was sure whoever is representing you is the best. Who are
you using?" Smiling, he said, "I'm thinking of using a public defender."
Sherrie stared at him wide-eyed.

Nathan tousled her wavy brown hair. "I'm joking. Lighten up, will you?"
He pulled her to him and suggestively asked, "Why don't you defend me?"
She slipped away, shaking her head. "Impossible. I'm just here to help,
and besides, I'm too close to you. If you need me to call a few of my
lawyer friends who have been transplanted to Earthquakeland, I can help
you find the best."

"No need. Jill Burkhart is representing me."

"Great." She winked and added, "At least you had the sense to choose a
woman. I'll check her out." He shrugged. "If it'll make you feel better,
go ahead.

She's brilliant, though. I dated her most of last year. I don't think
she loses very often."

"Why'd you break up?" she asked, a little too nonchalantly.

"You know I've got my sights set on you. When are you going to give in
and marry me?"

"When you move back to New York." He pulled her into his arms. "You'd
love the West Coast." She backed away again. "We really don't have time
to go into all this again, Nathan. If I'm going to help at all, I need
to know a few things." He sighed. "Such as  ..."

"Under normal circumstances I'd never ask this, but we both know things
are far from normal. Did you do it?"

"Do you think I did it?"

"What I think is irrelevant." Looking him straight in the eye, she asked
again, "Nathan, did you kill Charles Kelmar?"

"No." She smiled. "That's all 1 needed to hear." With a concerned look
he added, "Sherrie, do you think I could have done it? I know this
sounds crazy, but I can't help but wonder. I don't clearly remember
anything that happened that night; it's all a haze. God, I hate this!"

"You definitely didn't kill anyone, Nathan. Someone wants you to take
the fall for this, and they've gone to a lot of trouble to make-sure you
do. So, who would want to frame you for his murder?" Nathan began
pacing. "The only obvious answer is Chuck Kelmar, but somehow I don't
think he'd have himself killed just to see me locked away."

"Then we've got to dig deeper. There has to be someone who wants you to
suffer. Any bitter girlfriends lurking around?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous."

"Even if I am, it's still a relevant question. You're a handsome, very
wealthy man. Losing you might be enough to push someone over the edge."

"I'm flattered. But, really, I don't date that much, especially not
seriously."

"What you perceive as a casual relationship might be serious as hell to
someone else. Just think about it, okay?

Who else?"

"Maybe Karl Ross, Kelmar's right-hand man. I've been considering his
potential motives, and he'd win both ways.

He takes over Kelmar's shiny new position as president, and gets RESCUE
out of the picture once and for all." She'd pulled a pad from her
briefcase and was scribbling furiously. "He's at Petroco in Midland,
Texas?"

"Right."

"I'll hire someone to check him out," Sherrie said.

Nathan took her hand. "Some of my friends are working on leads here. I'd
like you to work with them, if you have time."

"I'll make time."

"You can stay at my place, and work at RESCUE." Sherrie shook her head.
"I don't think that would look very good." Winking, he asked, "Worried
someone in California will recognize you?" She laughed. "No. I just
think it casts the wrong impression.

It implies we're, you know  ..."

"Friends?" She shrugged. "Okay. It would be easier to stay at your
place."

"Stop by RESCUE in the morning. Ask my secretary, Dinell, to introduce
you to Ashe and Brada. They're looking after RESCUE while I'm gone, and
doing a little investigating on the side. Right now we're not sure who
we can trust, so we're not taking any chances."

"Isn't Brada the one you used to talk about in college?"

"In the flesh."

"Is she still brilliant?" she asked.

"Are you still jealous?" he mocked.

"Maybe a little, but right now we have bigger things to worry about.
I'll get hold of your lawyer and see what's taking so long to get you
out of here."

"Sherrie, bail has already been denied. We're busy fighting extradition
to Nevada right now."

"Why the hell was bail denied? You're an upstanding member of the
community. A frigging model citizen! You've probably never even gotten a
parking ticket before!"

"Whoever we're up against is very good, and money is no object. They not
only covered their tracks, they somehow managed to put my tracks in
their place. It seems day before yesterday they paid cash to book me on
a flight to Australia, which, of course, makes me appear to be a flight
risk to the court. And it gets worse."

"That's not the worst news?" she asked, obviously disheartened.

"The DNA tests aren't all back yet, but apparently there's an even
bigger problem." He slumped into his chair as he said, "My blood matched
what was found at the murder scene."

Chapter 11.


Twelve hours after reading the article on Greenwall's arrest, Walters
was still furious. Logic was beyond his grasp, pushed aside by his
primal hunger for revenge. His life had been devoted to destroying
Petroco, using schemes against them that were as clever and deceptive as
those they used to fool the public.

He tried to convince himself there must be a bigger picture, one he
didn't yet understand. He knew that college kid's design would make
drilling for oil much less expensive, but she had sold out. How could
contaminating rescue's HER well hurt Petroco? And what was the real
reason Nathan Greenwall needed to be out of pocket for a while?

Mentally chastising himself, he was plagued by negative thoughts. Since
when do if trust anyone? How could I have been so damned stupid? What
the hell is really going on here?

The answer was clear. He had let his guard down, broken his own
stringent rules. Again. Sloppiness was unforgivable, and now it was time
to pay the price.

The real cost was to his spirit. His entire life he had backed away from
relationships. So few people ever met his standards and expectations
that he had become a loner by choice. After years of brilliantly
designed jobs, he finally deemed his contact at RESCUE trustworthy, a
kindred spirit in the fight against Petroco and its related concerns.

He had stopped questioning every move, instead relying on the judgment
of the person he had grown to respect.

Trusting one person might just have cost him everything.

Pacing across his living room, he tried to calm down.

His next move would be critical. Jace Williams loomed over him like a
hurricane hovering a mile offshore. Dealing with him would require
assistance at this point, since Walters couldn't risk being seen in
California again.

A boyish grin crossed his face at the thought of his double-crossing
friend. Two could play her game. With a little special attention, he had
a feeling that, in this case, vengeance would truly be a pleasure.

When the ingenious idea struck him, Walters knew he couldn't wait. He
placed the call in spite of subconscious warning signals that were
screaming. Slow down. Plan each step thoroughly. This is how you blew it
last time. But his need to hear that deceptive voice was overwhelming,
not only to refocus his hatred, but to prove to himself he was back in
control.

On the second ring, the phone was answered with a clouded, hoarse "Yes?"
He quietly, very calmly, said, "I know this call hasn't been cleared,
but I need to discuss something with you. Is it safe? Are you awake?"

" ...  Yes."

"After the, um, let's call it the liquid incident, you mentioned you
might want to participate in a more direct way.

I indicated you were more valuable where you were. There's a way you can
do both in the near future. Are you still interested?"

"That depends on what you have in mind. Things are hectic since
Greenwall's arrest." From the tone of voice, he could tell grogginess
was quickly being replaced by the level-headed temperament he was used
to. Bragging, Walters said, "I do good work, don't I?"

"What are you talking about?" "Who do you think framed him? You said you
needed him out of the way but not dead. i inquire how it
is going. It was a difficult, complicated plan to carry out, but
obviously worth the extra effort. He'll be locked away for quite some
time. Unless, of course, Nevada has the death penalty, in which case we
might have a tiny problem."

"But ...  so  ...  you killed Chuck?" Walters laughed. "I can't believe
you didn't realize it right away. Who else could carry out such an
elaborate scheme? Wasn't his blood at the scene a nice touch? And what
about booking the flight to Australia? A stroke of pure brilliance, if I
do say so myself."

"But ...  it wasn't time! We didn't agree . , ." Walters was ecstatic as
he listened to the agitated voice.

He continued by explaining, "There were extenuating circumstances that
made the original time frame impossible.

The plan had to be changed, and you know flexibility has always been my
forte. Unfortunately, there's been a small snag. That's why I contacted
you. I need some assistance."

"What kind of assistance?"

"There's a person I need taken out, and soon. It shouldn't be too
difficult. The hard part will be locating him."

"What concern is he of mine?"

"Let's just say he could be the thread that unravels all we've done
together. And I do mean all. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Are you willing to help?"

"Do 1 have a choice?"

"Not really. After all, I've been coming to your rescue for years. Maybe
it's time you came to mine. I'll get back to you with details in the
next two days." Walters hung up without waiting for a response.

He finally started to relax, knowing that this time he had the upper
hand.

Several hundred miles away, the night held as many questions as it did
answers. That stupid son of a bitch killed Chuck just to frame Nathan!
Oh, my God, what have I done? Who does Walters want me to handle, and
why after all these years, does he suddenly need my help? Could I
actually kill someone? If he ever finds out I tricked him, will he hunt
me down and kill me, too?

Of course he will!

Jace moved slowly across the small living room of George's house,
thankful pain no longer cursed his every move. When the glow of
headlights splashed against the dingy wall, then disappeared, he
realized George was finally home. Very carefully Jace eased himself into
the old recliner and waited.

When George shuffled in, Jace asked, "How's your wife doing?" It was
late, and George was obviously exhausted. "Little better every day.
Kinda like you. It's harder on her, though.

Old bodies don't heal like young ones. I waited till I knew she'd sleep
through the night, then I came on home. What're you doing up at this
hour? You still gotta get lots of rest to get well."

"I needed to ask you a favor. I know you've already done plenty for me,
so I'll understand if you say no." George wearily dropped onto the
sagging sofa, propping his feet on the coffee table. "It's good to know
you trust me that much. I have a feeling a couple days ago you'd have
just taken whatever it is you wanted without bothering to ask first."
Jace hesitated, then said, "I probably would've. But you've been really
good to me. Better than anybody ever, except maybe my own mama."

"Everybody deserves a break now and then. What kinda favor did ya have
in mind?"

"Your van. I just need to borrow it for a couple of hours tomorrow
afternoon. I could take you to the hospital and then come back and pick
you up whenever you want me to.

It's real important." George looked at him skeptically, then asked,
Tell me what you've got planned?" Jace scowled, then
stood, steadying himself by leaning  against the wall. "I need to
watch for somebody. That's all I'm going to do. Watch. I promise."

"Does this have anything to do with the white guy who was following
you?" Jace nodded.

"Sounds dangerous."

"No way. Your van's safe. Besides, he'd never expect me to show up where
he works."

"Why would you want to do a fool thing like that anyway?"

"One way or another, I've got to stop him. He's not the type to give up.
He's a pro."

"How's watching for him going to stop him from coming after you again?"

"Thanks to you, I've had a lot of time to think about things the last
couple of days. First, I need to make sure he actually works at that
place where I stole the car. Then I can turn him over to the cops."

"Why not call them from here?"

"And tell 'em what? "Hey, I stole a car, killed my own brother, and now
I need you to protect my sorry, thievin' ass'?" George shook his head.
"I see your point, but it still might be the safest thing to do."

"No way! We both know they ain't gonna believe me if I just tell 'em
some white creep's been chasing me all over the place. But I figure if I
can show them who it is, exactly where to find the guy, they might cut
me some kinda deal since I've got the goods on him. You know, let me off
on the car-stealing thing in exchange for arresting a hit man." George
nodded. After several moments he stood and walked into the kitchen. Jace
followed, asking, "Well?"

"You can use the van." He reached into his pocket and tossed him the
keys. "Start it with these this time. It's a little easier than hot
wiring. By the way, where did you learn that?"

"At school."

"Really? Some new kinda class?" Jace defensively turned away. "Not
exactly. I paid attention in shop class, learned a lot about computers,
too. It comes easy. I'm just good with wiring and things like that."

"My son was, too." Turning slowly around, Jace scrutinized George's
face.

"That's his picture in the den, isn't it?"

"Sure is."

"I look a lot like him, don't I?" George glanced away, nodding.

"What happened to him?"

"Got killed in the Gulf War."

"And that's why you're helping me. "Cause I look like the son you lost?"

"That may have been why I started, but now I'm doing it because I like
you. I can tell you need a friend, and that someday you're going to be a
fine young man, just like he was." Jace simply nodded, the knot in his
throat choking back his words.

No one would have guessed Nathan wasn't in his office on Wednesday
morning. The glass walls were opaque, as though they could deter the
invasion of any further problems.

The room was buzzing with activity as Dinell, Brada, Ashe, and Rae did
their best to brainstorm ways to help him.

Brada asked, "Have you guys heard the latest piece of incriminating
garbage they turned up?" Everyone shook their heads. It was early in the
morning, and they all looked as though sleep had eluded them for days.

"They found out about his mother," Brada divulged.

Dinell and Ashe nodded as though they understood perfectly, but Rae
shrugged. "What did they find out about her?" , - Ashe explained,
"Nathan's father died when he was only six. He was very close to his
mother, Elizabeth. She was, a wonderful woman. She grew up sixty years
ago when kids and adults didn't think twice about where they played, or
what the consequences of pollution were. It wasn't until thirty years
later, after Nathan was born with a mild birth defect, she discovered
the truth.

"Unfortunately, her childhood home was downstream from a processing
plant that dumped waste products into the river. She was one of about
fifty people who all grew up in the same neighborhood and went to the
same grade school. Of those who could have kids, several had children
with deformities. Others were like Nathan, who had a cleft palate. He's
led a normal life after having a couple of corrective surgeries when he
was a kid. Most of Elizabeth's friends died of mysterious diseases
before they were fifty years old. Last I heard, only one was still
alive." Rae shook her head. "That's horrible. What did his mother die
from?"

"A rare form of leukemia," Dinell said.

"And that's why Nathan is so involved in ecology?" Ashe answered, "Yes.
Right after she died, he blamed the worst offenders, some of which, I'm
sure you guessed, are in the petroleum industry." Brada chimed in, "And
he was openly hostile to Chuck Kelmar. Kelmar's personal quest to lobby
against every bill designed to control pollution caused by the oil
industry particularly offended him. But lately they seemed to have been
getting along a little better." Dinell said, "I don't think so. During
their last meeting they had a pretty heated argument. Even with the door
closed, I could hear every word they said." Rae asked Dinell, "So do you
believe Nathan truly wanted Kelmar dead?" Dinell blushed and shrugged.

Ashe quickly answered, "Nathan accepted his mother's death and went on.
I don't think it would ever cross his mind to solve problems illegally.
He truly believes the future can be changed by hard work, and that
includes using legislation to make it happen." Brada said, "Which is
exactly what we need to be doing-- working hard. The prosecution is
making it sound like Nathan's been lurking in the shadows all these
years waiting to catch Kelmar off guard so he could avenge his mother's
death. What a crock of shit. We need to find ways to prove Nathan wasn't
carrying a grudge. But how?" Ashe answered. "I don't know. So many
people know why he started RESCUE; plus it's common knowledge in the
industry that one of our biggest problems is Petroco.

Unfortunately, the story of his wanting revenge for his mother's death
is like another nail in Nathan's coffin. It sounds terrible and will be
impossible to disprove." Brada said, "We've got to figure out how
Nathan's blood could be at the scene without him being there. Then we
need to prove it." Rae offered, "It seems pretty obvious to me. Nathan
may have actually been there. After all, he doesn't remember anything
that makes much sense. Maybe he was drugged and taken to Las Vegas, and
someone cut his forearm so he would bleed at the scene. Nathan's
innocent, but whoever killed Kelmar was smart enough to take him along.
A perfect setup." Ashe said, "But the security photos don't show Nathan
leaving the building. Besides, I've never heard of a drug that totally
wipes out a person's memory but leaves them conscious enough to travel
from here to Las Vegas and back without people remembering him acting
oddly." Dinell said, "But he had to be in Las Vegas. O.J.'s jurors are
the only people on the face of the earth who don't grasp the accuracy of
DNA blood tests." Rae shook her head. "The police are sure he was there,
but it doesn't add up, Brada, the cut on Nathan's arm wasn't very deep,
right?" Brada nodded.

Rae continued, "It's only been a few days, and the cut is already
healed. According to his lawyer, there were drops of blood in the hotel
room and leading down the hall to the elevator. But Nathan's slacks
didn't have any spots, or his shoes, or his car, for that matter. Only
his shirt, and just around where the cut actually was--like his arm
hadn't moved much. When you add that to the fact someone had his office
bugged, it makes the prosecution's case a lot more suspicious." Brada
stood and stretched. "I'm going to see Nathan in an hour. I'll ask him
about the blood."

"What did he say about that black box?" Rae asked.

Grimacing, Brada snapped, "Shit! I completely forgot to ask where he got
that thing! I'll talk to his lawyer about it when we discuss how to turn
over the surveillance photos." Ashe added, "Make sure she finds out if
the police checked his house and car for bugs, too. And you'd better
bring her up to speed on the murders of marilyn, Margaret, and Andy.
There's a good possibility all this is connected." Rae replied, "Poor
Margaret, I feel terrible about what happened to her. Do we know if the
autopsy showed signs of foul play?" Ashe shook his head. "Ever since
Nathan's arrest, the police are treating everyone at RESCUE as though
we're a bunch of homicidal maniacs. I doubt if they'd tell us the time
of day right now." Dinell said, "Can you blame them? First, Marilyn dies
under questionable circumstances. Then we're some of the last people to
see her mother alive. Throw Mr. Greenwall's problems in, and you've got
a certified bunch of troublemakers." Rae asked, "Has anyone besides me
wondered how Nathan suddenly became a suspect? I mean. Kelmar was
murdered in Las Vegas, and the first news stories said the police there
thought it was a hotel robbery gone bad. Then, out of the blue, they
start questioning Nathan. Quite a leap, don't you think?" Sherrie Rosen
poked her head in the door and answered, "Not if you consider the Las
Vegas police received an anonymous tip." The four of them all stared
with wide eyes ' at the perky brunette. She continued, "I'm Sherrie
Rosen, a friend of Nathan's from New York. I don't mean to intrude.

It's just no one was in the reception area, and I could hear your
conversation. Nathan's lucky to have so much support." Dinell hopped up
and practically ran to Sherries side.

"I'm sorry. I completely forgot Mr. Greenwall told me you'd be coming
by. This is Brada, Ashe, Rae, and I'm Dinell." As she introduced them,
each one smiled and nodded.

"Nathan's told me a lot about all of you. In fact, I probably know as
much about Brada's college antics as she does." Brada muttered, "Oh, no
..." Sherrie said, "Don't worry, even back then Nathan always spoke very
highly of you. I flew in from New York to try to help get him out of
this mess." Dinell added, "She's his persona! attorney, so she'll be
using his office for a while."

"Of course, if any of you would prefer I didn't, 1 can always work out
of Nathan's apartment." Seeing the look Brada shot Ashe, Sherrie quickly
added, "He insisted I stay there." Ashe said, "Any friend of Nathan's is
welcome here. If you need anything at all, just ask." Sherrie smiled
warmly. "Thanks, I will. If you've all got a minute, I'd like to fill
you in on what Nathan and I covered yesterday." She set her briefcase on
his desk and nipped it open, pulling out a legal pad filled with notes.
"First, he's worried RESCUE will get off track once he's extradited to
Nevada. As usual, he's more concerned about the company's future than
his own. He asked me to have Ashe handle the financial end of RESCUE
while he's out of pocket." Brada interrupted, "But I've already begun
working with Dinell on the financial reports." "He said you
were doing a fine job, but that you flipped through her
notes--" ...  I believe he called them 'killer instincts' would be
better utilized to help find who did this to him. He asked me to see if
you would go to Midland to speak to Karl Ross."

"I'd be glad to, but what good will it do?"

"He thinks he has a motive for killing Kelmar, and that you might be
able to rattle his cage a little." Brada smiled widely. "No, I'll rattle
his cage a lot!" Nathan paced the cell like a caged animal, unable to
believe his world was crumbling around him. That afternoon, the look of
pity on Sherries face had told him more than he ever wanted to know. He
was in real trouble.

Sitting on the hard cot, he cradled his face in his hands.

There had to be an explanation. Someone had gone to a hell of a lot of
trouble to frame him, to be certain he rotted in jail for the rest of
his life. But who? Who would want him out of the way? Wouldn't it have
been easier just to kill him? The thought made him shiver.

Pacing again, he thought. Money. Greed is always a motivating factor.
Yet, even from prison he would still control his mother's money. It had
to be something deeper, a longstanding grudge. Someone who hated him
with all their soul.

There was only one person he knew who felt that way, who had told him to
his face that she hoped he rotted in hell. But that was years ago. The
thought of telling Sherrie to have her checked crossed his mind, then
just as quickly disappeared because he knew she had so many problems to
deal with right now. Surely, after all this time her hatred had waned.

Besides, she wasn't capable of pulling off a complex scheme like this.
At least, he hoped she wasn't.

That evening Ashe and Rae shared dinner atop a cozy blanket spread on
the outer edge of rescue's grounds.

As the last blush of a spectacular sunset eclipsed the building, Rae
sighed. "Isn't this a beautiful place? Everything seems so peaceful
here. Like there couldn't possibly be anything wrong in the entire
world. But we both know how far that is from the truth."

"I suppose that's a matter of perspective." The fine, sheer dress Rae
wore offered little warmth, and she shivered as the chill of night began
to settle in. Turning to face him, she asked, "So you don't think things
are going badly?" He grabbed another carrot stick and munched on it.

"Things can always get worse."

"Let's see, since I started, the HER well has been sabotaged, we've been
exposed to God knows how much radiation, four people have been murdered,
and the head of the company is in jail. How much worse can it get?"

"At least Nathan is still alive, and so are we. We could've worked on
the HER site for years before discovering it was slowly killing us, but
we didn't. Losing Andy and the others is truly horrible, but all in all,
I think we still have a lot to be thankful for." Moving closer to him,
Rae ran her finger along the middle knuckle of his right hand. "I don't
remember you being so optimistic at the HER site. In fact, I seem to
recall you knocking a hole in the wall. Still a little swollen, isn't
it?"

"Maybe. But I've learned a few things since then." He leaned to gently
kiss her.

"Like what?" she whispered, her lips brushing his.

"Like life's too short to take for granted the good things that are
waiting right at your fingertips." He kissed her again as the first
stars welcomed the awakening night.

Rae shook her head, trying to clear her senses. "If you don't stop that,
we won't notice when the cleaning crew arrives. Remember, that's why we
stayed late--so we could interview the cleaning people. Especially the
janitor in the security photos the night of Kelmar's murder."

"And I thought you agreed to share a romantic, starlit dinner with me
for other reasons." She kissed him, long and sensuously, then said, "I
did ... but, Ashe  ...  someone just pulled up in front of the
building." He rolled away from her and sat up. There were only four cars
left in the parking lot. His, hers, an old van, and a white utility
truck that had custom cleaning painted along the side. "Okay, you win."
Ashe held out a hand and pulled her up. "But don't forget where we
were." She laughed. "How could I forget any of this?" Together, they
folded the blanket and stuffed the remnants of dinner back in its
basket. As they started to walk toward the building, Ashe asked, "What'd
you think of Sherrie?"

"She seems very nice. She must care a lot for Nathan to come this far to
try to help him."

"In a way, it's really sad. Nathan's never gotten over her.

They dated most of the time they were in college. When Nathan's mother
became so ill, he moved her here to be near a specialist who was
researching innovative bone-marrow transplants. Nathan proposed, even
begged her to come with them, but Sherrie didn't want to leave New
York."

"I take it the transplants they tried didn't work."

"Quite the contrary. She was given less than six months to live before
the treatment. Afterward, she went into remission for almost five years.
She got to see Nathan's plan to build RESCUE, but the second onset of
the disease was faster than anyone expected." Ashe pulled his key card
from his pocket and slid it through the security lock on the front door
so they could follow the two women who had just disappeared inside.

Rushing to catch them near the elevator bank, he extended his hand as he
said, "Excuse me, I'm Ashe Freeman, one of rescue's directors. Would you
mind answering a couple of questions?" One woman nervously asked, "Is
there a problem with our work?"

"Oh, no. We just need to talk to the people who clean on Friday nights.
Could you tell us how to contact them?" The other woman asked, "Was
something stolen?" Ashe shook his head as he explained, "No! Nothing is
wrong. We just need to ask some questions. That's all.

Really." Both women relaxed but only slightly. The first one said, "We
clean this building every night." "Every night?" Rae asked.

"Monday through Friday."

"The two of you do the whole thing?" Ashe asked.

They both nodded. "It takes us a little over an hour to do each floor.
We work from the top down--dusting, vacuuming, and emptying the trash.
The bathrooms are handled by a different crew who comes during the day.
We start each night at eight and finish around two in the morning."

"Are you familiar with the large glass office in the northwest corner of
the fifth floor?" Rae asked.

They nodded.

"What time do you usually clean that office?"

"Between eight-thirty and nine."

"Has anyone ever been asleep on the sofa when you arrived to clean?" Rae
asked.

They looked at each other, then shook their heads and said, "No." Ashe
and Rae exchanged a glance. "What about the man?

Does he join you later?" Rae asked.

"What man?"

"Don't you have a man who helps you clean?" Rae asked.

They both shook their heads.

"Are you sure?" Ashe asked.

"Positive. We work alone. Always have." Ashe handed each of them a
twenty-dollar bill and said, "Thank you, ladies. You've been very
helpful."

"Thank you, sir!" They hurried into the elevator and disappeared.

Rae walked over to the far side of the Natureair entry and sat on a
marble bench. She laid the blanket beside her.

Ashe leaned against the closest window, and they watched the waterfall
for several minutes. Finally Ashe asked, "Did you find out how to get
prints off the tape?"

"I gave the security company the frame numbers of everyone who came in
or out that night. They're sending over pictures. Sounds like we need to
order copies of the frames where the mysterious janitor goes in and out
as well." Ashe stared at the front door and asked, "How could someone
get in without a key card to release the magnetic locks?" Rae shrugged.
"Somehow, I don't think those locks would slow down a very sophisticated
criminal. After all, whoever framed Nathan was pretty clever."

"True." Admiring the lobby, Rae said, "It's hard to believe one man's
dream could build all this."

"That's why we have to stop whoever's doing this. Nathan is a rare
soul--a person who cares more about other people than himself." With a
smile she replied, "RESCUE has several of those running around." Ashe
began to pace. "I feel like we're missing something.

Like the answer is here somewhere, and we just can't see it." As he
walked back toward Rae, he suddenly stopped.

"What the hell is that?" he asked.

Rae followed the line of his sight, almost jumping off the bench toward
him when she saw what was just outside the glass wall behind her. "Oh,
my God! Not another one!" Resting his hands on her shoulders, he said,
"Stay calm.

It can't be what it looks like." Even though they were alone, Rae
whispered. "It looks like an old tennis shoe, and with the way our
luck's been going, it's probably still attached to the dead body someone
hid behind those shrubs."

"I'll go check." She grabbed him, holding on a bit too tightly. "No, you
won't!"

"Why not? If it's what it looks like, it certainly isn't going to hurt
anyone."

"We should call the police. What if whoever dumped it there is still
lurking around? What if they jump out and grab you?" Ashe stared at her
as though to say, / can handle it.

Rae took a deep breath, then dug to the bottom of her purse and pulled
out her "bodyguard." Forcing the gun into his palm, she said, "All
right, all right. But at least have enough sense to take this with you."

"Rae! I can't believe you're carrying a handgun in your purse in
California! Are you trying to get thrown in jail, or do you just have a
death wish?" She shrugged. "I forgot I had it. I usually leave it locked
in my glove box, but the other night I needed to run some errands after
dark, so I moved it to my purse. I read this book once where the robber
hid under a car and slit the woman's Achilles' tendon. It scared the
hell out of me."

"Your imagination is in overdrive, Rae. All I'm going to do is see if
whoever's lying out there has a pulse. They may need help, you know."

"Right. Most people dive in the bushes when they feel chest pains coming
on. Or maybe the poor guy had a heart attack while he was window
peeking."

"Good point. Maybe he was just window peeking."

"Could it be a homeless person?"

"I doubt it. Surely no one would choose to sleep in a spot right under
the sprinkler system, where they're sure to get soaked at the crack of
dawn," he replied as he started toward the door.

"I still think we should go upstairs and call die police."

"And tell them what? Excuse me, officer, but there's a shoe in our
bushes and we're terrified of it?" He smiled at her and added, "Let me
go see what we're dealing with.

Then we'll know who to call--police, the coroner  ..."

"Okay. But I have a bad feeling about this. I'll hold the front door
open so you can run back inside if you need to." He rolled his eyes. "If
it'll make you feel better, then by all means hold the door." Ashe
walked briskly out toward the shrubs, the gun in his hand. Before he
checked the bushes, he glanced over his shoulder at Rae, who was glaring
at him from the open front door.

Carefully spreading the dense leaves of the bush aside, he leaned
closer, now certain it was a body. His right hand instinctively
tightened around the trigger as he reached forward with his left hand.

Although the grassy area was dimly lit by both the lights inside the
building and across the parking lot, the shrub effectively blocked most
of Ashes view. Slowly, he extended his fingers to check for a pulse,
gingerly touching the neck of the teenager lying before him. The flesh
was warm, sweaty. Relaxing, he realized whoever it was, he was still
very much alive.

Before Ashe could react, fingers viciously dug into his left arm,
jerking him hard and fast against the thick glass wall.


Chapter 12.


When Jace awoke, the first thing he saw was a white man leaning over him
with a gun. The bastard found me again! As his eyes focused, he was
confused by his surroundings, hoping he was in the grips of another
nightmare. Then he remembered  ...  There was a man inside the building
late that afternoon who looked like the man, walked like him, even
dressed like him.

Earlier, from the parking lot, Jace couldn't be certain if it really was
the homicidal maniac who'd been stalking him, or just a figment of his
exhausted imagination. He was positive about one thing--he had to get a
closer look, had to know for certain.

Gripping the van's keys in his hand, he had made his way carefully
across the parking lot. After sneaking to where he could peek inside the
glass walls without being seen, he quickly realized it wasn't him. Jace
had disappointedly slumped against the wall to rest. For a long time he
waited, but he was trapped in his hiding place by the constant stream of
people hurrying in and out at quitting time.

When he saw the gun in the darkness overhead, he quickly realized he
must have fallen asleep. He knew he couldn't afford to waste any time.
With all his might he used his good hand to grab the man's forearm,
hoping to catch him off guard. When he heard a dull thud against the
glass wall of the building, then a loud groan, he knew he'd accomplished
his goal.

Before the man could regain his senses, Jace crawled up to steady
himself. But he instantly fell back down, screaming in agony from an
unexpected kick that landed directly on his broken arm. The bastard was
even stronger than he remembered.

Jace reacted instantaneously, wildly swinging his fist to catch the man
in his left eye. He kicked everything in range, doing more harm to the
nearby landscaping than anything else. By the time he stopped flailing,
he was in front of the row of bushes, standing on the sidewalk. His
adversary was still tangled in branches, trying to find his footing and
free himself from the prickly grip of the broken shrubs.

Jace started to run toward the van, then realized his keys were no
longer in his hand. They were in the bushes-- somewhere--and he knew he
wouldn't have enough time to hot-wire the van and escape. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw a woman near the front door of the building.

He ran toward her, his aching free hand groping for the switchblade
buried somewhere in his jacket. When his fingers finally grasped it, a
quick push sent the gleaming blade flying out.

He smashed into the lady blocking the door at full speed, knocking the
shocked look right off her face.

As Rae watched Ashe wrestle in the bushes, she was torn between going
for help and going to help. She didn't have her key card, and she knew
if she let go of the door, it would automatically lock them out.
Searching the landscape, she saw a rock the size of a cantaloupe nearby.
Praying the door would close slowly, she ran to the rock, grabbed it,
then wedged her fingers in the door just before it latched.

After propping the door open with the rock, she whirled around and
frantically tried to find Ashe again. Finally, she spotted him stumbling
out of the bushes. She stepped toward him, intent on helping, but was
promptly thrown against the door by the impact of a teenager's body
striking hers.

Grabbing a fist full of her hair, he threw her in front of him as he
yelled, "Tell him we're all going inside. Now!

Him first. And that I got a knife ready to slice you!" He poked her rib
cage with the point, wanting to make sure his message was understood.

Rae did as he said, barely raising her voice as she called to Ashe,
"He's got a knife. He wants you to go inside the building first." Ashe
held up his hands and stepped slowly toward them.

As he walked past, he muttered, "That damned intuition of yours was
right again." Grabbing the door, he kicked the rock in first, then
followed it inside.

Rae stumbled as the teen roughly shoved her through the entryway.
Catching her balance, she cried, "Hey! I'm doing what you asked me to
do. You don't need to be rude!" He shoved her again, plainly setting the
ground rules.

Watching Ashe, Rae knew he was searching the Natureair lobby for
anything he could use as a weapon. Unfortunately, as far as she could
tell, the most lethal thing in the room was a poisonous plant. She
fleetingly wondered what had become of her "bodyguard," whether Ashe had
hidden it in his clothing or dropped it in the fight.

Rae's eyes met Ashes again, and she sensed his defiance, his
unwillingness for either of them to be a victim.

She followed his glance to the rock and back, knowing he was trying to
tell her it could be a way to stop him. Her mind raced as she weighed
each of their options. There are two of us and only one of him. He's
already hurt. How much harm can one knife do? If Ashe has the gun, he
can make his move if I distract the bastard. How am I going to get to
that damned rock ?

Remembering the self-defense class her father had insisted she take, Rae
decided to act first and worry about the consequences later. With a
blood-curdling scream she wheeled around, her well-placed kick catching
the boy's knees. He wailed as he crumpled to the ground, his knife
sliding in circles across the marble floor before coming to rest in the
gently waving pool of water.

Rae scrambled toward the rock, while Ashe defensively positioned himself
between the two of them. Two seconds after her attack, all three were
staring intently at one another, waiting for someone to make the next
move.

She could hardly believe her eyes when she watched the battered teen
crawl back to his feet and lurch at Ashe. Even though the kid was
obviously in great pain, he would not give up.

Ashe kept his distance, carefully jumping away from the boy's attack,
then warily guarding him again. When he saw the boy's eyes dart toward
the knife glimmering beneath the shallow water, he knew what the kid was
foolishly thinking.

In an instant they were both bounding toward the water, each intent on
reaching the blade first.

As Ashes body struck the boy's light frame, the impact threw them both
into the water. They slid away from the knife on the slippery marble,
struggling through lily pads and slimy weeds. Rae dropped the rock, then
rushed toward the knife, losing her balance and plunging headfirst into
the shallow water. While still sliding, she grabbed the weapon.

Whirling to face them, she thought about tossing it to Ashe, but quickly
decided to hurl it into the deepest part of the man-made pond instead.

Ashe overpowered the teenager, easily pinning him down with one knee
against the slick marble. Holding the boy's good arm in one hand and his
soggy cast in the other, Ashe tightened his grip. Through clenched teeth
he muttered, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Going for a little swim. Let go of me!" he spat.

"What were you doing in the bushes?" Ashe demanded.

"Sleeping. You're hurting me!" Ashe smiled, shaking his head and
showering the boy with water. "Good. Maybe you'll tell the truth."

"I'm telling the truth. Look at me, man, I'm soaked. So I am swimming.
And I was sleeping. Don't you believe me?" Keeping the boy pinned, Ashe
settled into a more comfortable position. "Listen, we've got all night.
You can keep up the smart-ass answers, or we can figure out why you just
tried to kill us."

"What? I wasn't trying to kill nobody! You scared the hell out of me!"
Soaked from head to toe, Rae waded out of the water, her dress clinging
provocatively to every curve. She moved near the men, coughing as she
said, "This isn't getting us anywhere. We don't want to hurt you. We
just want to know what you were doing, and we aren't going to let you
leave unless you tell us." The boy leered at her. "Listen, lady, I
really need to get outta here. If someone sees me, it could mean big
trouble for all of us, and I didn't come here to get nobody hurt." Ashe
said, "If I help you up, are you going to run?"

"Who, me?" he mocked.

Shaking his head, Ashe said, "If I didn't know better, I'd think that
was another one of those smart-ass answers." He looked at Rae. "Why
don't you go call the police? I'll just wait here with our friend until
they show up." As she started to walk off, Ashe added, "You might want
to wrap up in that blanket over there first." Rae glanced down, blushing
as she realized how little was left to the imagination from her
clinging, wet clothes.

She ran to the blanket they'd used for their picnic, covered herself,
then rushed toward the stairs.

She stopped when the boy yelled, "No! You can't call the police!" Ashe
nodded to her to go on, but she stopped again when the boy screamed even
louder, "Please! Don't call the police.

I'll tell you what you want to know." Rae walked back toward them as
Ashe literally lifted the kid out of the water and stood him upright.
She asked, "Why are the police looking for you?"

"They're not. Well, not directly. It's someone else." "Who?" Ashe asked.

"Some white guy who works in this building. He's trying to kill me."

"Why?"

"I stole his frigging car." Rae said, "I thought you said the police
weren't looking for you."

"They don't know for sure I stole it. They think I did, but they can't
prove it."

"But he's sure?" He nodded.

"What's your name?" When he hesitated, Rae spun around, briskly heading
toward the stairs. "Jace," he replied.

"Jace what?" she asked.

"Jace Williams. Now can I go?" Ashe smiled as he shook his head. "First,
we're going upstairs where we can talk. Then we'll see."

"But--" Ashe said impatiently, "But nothing. Why'd you jump me outside?"

"You white guys all look alike in the dark."

"Very funny."

"I ain't trying to be funny. I thought you were him. Besides, you're the
one who had a gun pointed at my head."

"The gun was in my hand. It was not pointed at your head."

"Whatever. When someone's got a gun on me, I try not to hang around and
figure out which piece of me is gonna be Swiss cheese first." Rae asked,
"Do you frequently have guns pointed at you?"

"Just lately." She shook her head. "That's too bad. Maybe we can help
change that."

"Yeah, right," he muttered.

They rounded the top of the staircase as Ashe said, "She's right. We
will try to help. How do you know the person works at RESCUE?"

"Do what?" Rae explained, "This building belongs to RESCUE, Inc."

"Oh, I get it. You folks get off by coming to the rescue of poor people
like me. No way. I don't need no help. I just need to find out who that
guy is so I can stop him. He's dangerous."

"And you're not?" Rae asked.

"Nothing like him. This guy's lethal. And he doesn't give up. He's like
that pink rabbit on TV; he keeps coming and coming and coming ..."
Whether it was because they were all soaking wet, or just because their
tautly wound nerves finally snapped, they all started to laugh. By the
time they were in Ashes office, they were practically hysterical.
Except for the dark, wet weeds clinging to them, they looked like the
end result of a wet T-shirt contest.

Rae said, "I'd better get some bags of ice. Ashe, your eye's starting to
swell, and Jace, those knuckles look pretty mangled." Ashe said, "Speak
for yourself, lady. You've got quite a knot on your temple." Rae
gingerly touched the spot Ashe described. "Then I guess I'll get three
bags." She disappeared into the hallway.

Ashe motioned for Jace to sit down. "What did this dangerous man look
like?"

"He's white."

"That much I already figured out."

"The first time his hair was black, then the next time it was light
brown. It was short both times. But it was his eyes that made him easy
to recognize." Jace shivered. "His eyes and his voice. Even when he was
screaming at my friends, he said every word perfect."

"Did he have an accent?"

"No. He just talks real careful. Like he has to think about every word
before it crawls outta his mouth, or like he has lots of money." Ashe
walked to his bookshelf and took down a framed eight-by-ten color
picture. As he handed it to Jace, he said, "These are the employees of
RESCUE. And by the way, we don't rescue people. We're trying to rescue
the environment.

We design and market products that don't pollute | the air or water."

"I noticed those pictures in the hall. Pretty gross stuff, especially
that bird covered in oil."

"We'd like to stop all that, but we can only do so much." Jace looked
carefully at the picture, pulling it close to his face so he could see
the tiny facial images clearly. "This ain't everybody who works here."

"How do you know?" Ashe asked.

"That wet lady isn't in here, and there's another woman I saw come and
go twice today, always carrying a black briefcase. She's kinda short,
with wavy dark brown hair.

Real classy-looking, has a New York accent. She was the only one I saw
all afternoon who was dressed up, even had on high heels." Ashe was
truly amazed. "You are observant, aren't you?" Jace cockily answered,
"Gotta be if you're gonna survive the streets."

"You're right. The woman you met wasn't working here when this photo was
taken, and that other woman is only temporarily using an office at
RESCUE while she's in town."

"So the white guy I'm looking for doesn't work here?"

"RESCUE hasn't hired any men in over six months, at least not to work in
this office. When did you steal this guy's car? What kind of car was
it?"

"Seems like years, but it was only about a week and a half ago. It was a
new Lincoln."

"No one who works here drives a Lincoln, much less a new one. We don't
exactly pay top wages. In fact, most of our employees could work
somewhere else for substantially more money."

"Then why do they stay here?"

"We're a dream magnet. People who work at RESCUE are all drawn together
to meet a common goal. They feed off each other's enthusiasm while they
get the chance to fulfill their visions. Hopefully, we pool our talents
to make the world a better place."

"Must be nice," Jace sneered.

"What?"

"Being able to worry about the world. Where IF come from, you worry
about food, whether someone's gonna pop you in the head if you cross the
wrong street with the wrong color on."

"No one's forcing you to stay there," Ashe said.

Jace muttered, "And no one's offering me a million bucks to leave,
either."

"Did it ever dawn on you that you could work your way out? Why does
someone have to give you the money?" Jace's temper was rising. "How
would you know what it's like? Any place you go, they'd give you a job."

"How many places have you applied for work?" Ashe asked.

"Gotta have wheels to get back and forth. Besides, one look is all they
need. I'm out the door before I ever get in."

"You didn't answer my question. How many times have you applied for a
job?" Jace stared at him defiantly. "Twice."

"And did you have that chip on your shoulder?" He scowled.

"Ever think that might be your problem?"

"Right now I have lots of problems. Mainly with the police."

"What a coincidence. Lately a lot of detectives have been hanging around
here, too." With a puzzled expression on his face Jace asked, "Why are
cops hanging around? "Cause I took that car?" He shrugged.

"What time is it?" Jace frantically asked.

"Around nine forty-five," Ashe answered.

Jace jumped to his feet. "Shit! I gotta go." Ashe cut him off before he
could get to the door, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around.
"Hold on.

What's the big hurry?"

"I promised someone I'd pick him up at ten. I'm not gonna let him down."

"How can we contact you?"

"You can't. The last thing I need is that maniac finding out where I'm
staying."

"We have security tapes showing every person going in and out of RESCUE
for the last month. Will you come back tomorrow? Maybe you can spot him
for us."

"And maybe you'll have the police waiting here for me." Rae walked in,
tossing each of them a small plastic bag of ice. She said, "If we were
going to call the police, they'd have been here by now. I had ample
opportunity to contact them while I was gone." Jace thought about it,
then asked, "Tomorrow night at seven?" Ashe smiled and held out his
hand. "Tomorrow night." With each step Ashe took, Thursday morning's
bruises reminded him of the events of the night before. He walked slowly
up the stairs, giving in to his aching muscles. Not one part of his body
was immune to the soreness. For the first time he could remember, he
felt old.

Just moments after he eased himself into the chair behind his desk, Rae
rushed in. Bursting with excitement, she said, "You aren't going to
believe it, Ashe!" Rubbing his head, he asked, "Believe what?"

"I was in Brada's office this morning when--" Ashe interrupted, "I
thought she left for Midland already."

"She was supposed to leave at six this morning, but her flight's been
canceled. She's booked another one at ten."

"And?"

"Dinell came rushing in with an envelope from Medicdata addressed to
Brada." Ashe immediately perked up. "You're kidding!"

"No! It had a diskette inside and a note from Margaret.

The note said she was just making certain we got the information we
needed, and thanked us again for being nice to her daughter."

"What did the diskette have on it?"

"I don't know. Dinell and Brada are checking it now.

They asked me to come get you so we could all--" He was out of his chair
and halfway to the door before she finished her sentence.

Sherrie paced across Nathan's office, occasionally stopping to gaze out
the window at the horizon. In New York the leaves had already fallen,
autumn's crisp air a sign of colder days ahead. But a few stories below
where she stood, the lush Southern California landscape seemed to deny
the passage of time, of seasons.

She glanced at her watch. Nathan was already well on his way to Nevada,
extradited for a crime she was certain he didn't commit. On his desk was
a pile of notes she had read backward and forward a hundred times.

To her relief, Nathan's criminal lawyer had been impressive--efficient,
knowledgeable, and cool under pressure.

Her performance at the extradition hearing had been outstanding, but the
case against Nathan appeared to be airtight. A little too airtight to be
believable.

Sherrie grabbed the phone and dialed the number of the private
investigation agency they had hired in Las Vegas.

"This is Sherrie Rosen. Could I speak to someone working on the
Greenwall case?" After several seconds a woman's voice answered, "Kate
Spears."

"Ms. Spears, my name is Sherrie Rosen. I hired your firm to look into
the arrest of Nathan Greenwall. I had an idea that might turn up a
lead."

"We'd appreciate any help we can get. So far we've confirmed the rumor
that the police received an anonymous tip leading them to your client.
Apparently it was unusual."

"In what way?"

"It was in writing, typed or printed on a computer. Most people make a
quick phone call, or the greedier people call the police hot line, where
they might eventually get a reward for their information. This tip was
clean as a whistle.

No fingerprints, no stamp, run-of-the-mill paper stock. Very unusual."

"Interesting. It dawned on me that the hotel might have surveillance
videotapes. The tapes of rescue's lobby don't show Nathan leaving and
returning in the middle of the night."

"We already checked. The entrances and casino are both monitored, but
the tapes are rotated every week. If the police got them before the
rotation, then there's hope. Otherwise, they've been erased." Sherrie
jotted a note to herself to ask Nathan's lawyer if the police had seized
the tapes in time. "Anything else?" she asked as she tossed down her
pen, then nervously grabbed a small gold and red lapel pin from the desk
and began turning it around and around as she listened.

"Possibly another problem. There was a guy in the casino that night
introducing himself as Nathan Greenwall.

The description isn't quite right, but it still doesn't look good. Most
of the people who remember him were rather intoxicated."

"Great," she said sarcastically. "Call me if you find out anything
encouraging, okay?"

"Sure." Sherrie hung up and examined the piece of jewelry in her hand.
Excitement rose as she recognized its significance-- the Red Cross
awarded such pins to people who donated gallons of blood. "Anything's
possible," she mumbled as she grabbed her purse and ran out the door.

Ashe and Rae rushed down rescue's hallways, practically falling into
Brada's office.

"I can't find anything on this damned diskette!" Brada moaned. She was
so upset her hands were shaking.

Rae said, "Maybe it wasn't made using standard wordprocessing software.
Medicdata probably uses specialized programs for deciphering medical
dictation." Ashe added, "Why don't we take it downstairs to Jim in
Technical Assistance? The last thing we need is for anything to happen
to it."

"Good idea!" Brada popped the diskette out of her machine.

She started to stand, then slumped back into her seat.

"Except that Jim is on vacation this week, and both his technicians are
at the Solar/Wind test facility reprogramming.

That lightning strike did plenty of damage, and they're trying to find
out why the system's surge protectors didn't work." Rae asked, "So the
HER site isn't the only RESCUE site where strange things are happening?"
Ashe said, "I hadn't connected the two, but I suppose you could be
right--if someone unplugged the surge protectors." Brada stood again.
"You two are nuts! Do these mysterious saboteurs manufacture their own
lightning? Are they little green aliens who secretly want us to fail so
that in a couple hundred years we'll all be dead from pollution and they
can have our planet without worrying about us? Wake up! We're just
having a frigging streak of bad luck." Ashe smiled at Rae and winked.
"Brada, I wish you had shared this tidbit of information with us a
little sooner. The radiation at the HER site was probably from their
spaceship.

If only we'd known  ..." Brada grabbed a book and hurled it at Ashe. He
ducked, easily avoiding its path. "A little short-tempered, aren't we?"
Dinell rushed into the office, anxiously asking, "Well?"

"Well, nothing!" Brada shouted. "There's nothing on the damned thing!"
The two women's eyes met in silent challenge. "What's your problem?"
Dinell asked.

"That depends. What did you do to the diskette?" Brada seethed.

"How dare you" Dinell stepped forward, but Ashe blocked her path.

"Okay. That's it!" he sternly commanded. "We're here to solve problems
together, not make them. Brada, give me that diskette. Everybody else,
get back to work. Now!" Walters hung up the phone, his last call finally
made.

Except for his stock in the air-filter business he'd founded, all his
interests had been liquidated. After converting some of his funds to
gold, the remainder of his assets had been wired to accounts in
Switzerland and the Cayman Islands.

In all, he had a little over two million dollars to begin his new life,
as soon as he decided where to go.

Every fiber of his being warned him to leave the country now. But he had
to finish the business he started. There were three loose ends to tie
up, things that would haunt him forever without some degree of closure.

First, Petroco had to be stopped once and for all. Years of nibbling
away at them had obviously been unsuccessful.

It was time they went down, and hard.

Second, Jace Williams had to die. At this point he didn't care how or if
he ever saw his precious crossbow again, but that kid would pay.

And last, he would personally make sure that bitch at RESCUE never
double-crossed anyone again.


Chapter 13.


By four o'clock Thursday afternoon, Sherries patience was running thin.
After three hours of being shuffled from one person at the Red Cross to
another, she knew little more than when she arrived. Nathan's
well-deserved reputation for his personal and corporate donations to one
of his favorite causes was apparent. Almost every person Sherrie met not
only knew Nathan but respected and admired him.

Ironically, the very people who wanted to help him the most were
prohibited from telling her anything without a court order. They danced
around her questions with vague generalities, implying the answers
Sherrie needed but purposely skipping the details necessary to present
to the police.

Finally, one encouraging tidbit of information was tucked in her hand by
a particularly zealous volunteer who regularly worked rescue's on-site
blood drives.

After a harrowing taxi ride across town, Sherrie was glad to be back at
RESCUE. As she walked up the stairs, she looked at the clipping in her
hand for the hundredth time in the last hour. It was a one-paragraph
article from the local paper describing the recent vandalism of one of
the Red Cross Bloodmobiles. Little information was given, only that two
volunteers had been treated and released from a local hospital, and that
damage to the vehicle had been minimal.

Dinell was at her desk when Sherrie came into the room.

"Do you happen to know if Nathan gave blood recently?" Dinell seemed
distant, thoughtful as she replied, "It's been so hectic lately, but he
does believe in giving. The Bloodmobile regularly comes here every two
months. Now that I think about it, I guess it wasn't very long ago they
were here."

"Does he give every time they come?"

"I think so. Why?"

"Is there any way to find out the exact date they were last here?"
Dinell flipped through her desktop calendar and shook her head. "I'm
afraid I didn't write it down. They're here so often that it's become
pretty routine. If it's important, I'm sure I can find out." Sherrie
walked back into Nathan's office as she said, "Maybe later. Thanks
anyway." Closing the door behind her, she picked up the phone. After
several calls to various people at her New York law firm, she finally
got through to a partner specializing in criminal litigation. "I'm sorry
to bother you at home," she said. "The time difference between coasts
can be hard to work around."

"Don't worry about it. What can I do for you?"

"I heard through the grapevine that you took a special interest in the
Simpson trial a while back." He laughed, then said, "You mean you
didn't?"

"I'm afraid I actually had a life at the time. How closely did you
follow it?"

"Closer than I care to admit. What do you need to know?"

"I'm interested in the blood evidence in particular. Didn't his
attorneys claim blood was planted at the scene?"

"Among other things. They claimed there was EDTA in some of the
collected samples their people tested. If I remember right, the
prosecution's testing didn't show any EDTA." Sherrie was scribbling
frantically. "EDTA?" she asked.

"EDTA is a chemical preservative used to protect blood samples taken
from victims and suspects. It's already in the vial when they draw
blood, so it mixes readily with it.

EDTA prevents blood samples from coagulating in the test tubes, so the
serology and DNA tests can be performed."

"Do you think blood donated to the Red Cross would have some sort of
identifiable chemical in it as well?" she asked.

"I know it does. The last time I donated blood, I asked.

I don't remember the exact name of the chemical, but the nurse showed it
to me before she drew my blood. The bag the blood flows into has the
compound already in it. My curiosity is killing me, Sherrie. Why does an
estate attorney care about blood evidence?"

"Because it may save a man's life. A very good man." Brada came back
from the airport for the second time that afternoon, angrier than Ashe
had ever seen her. "I can't believe the frigging flight was canceled
twice in one day!" she barked.

Ashe said, "Calm down. Ross didn't even know you were coming to see him,
did he?"

"Hell, no. I want to catch him off guard."

"Then another day won't make any difference, will it?"

"Another year wouldn't make any difference. I've thought of every
question I could ask him, and I really don't see why Nathan wants me to
go. What's Ross going to say, "Why, yes, Ms. Stevens, now that you ask,
I did frame your boss, and knocked off my own at the same time. And by
the way, we arranged to have Marilyn Prosser and her mother killed, and
we dropped some plutonium down your HER well." Hell, no, he's going to
feed me more of the same garbage.

He'll have an airtight alibi. Going there is a total waste of time and
money." Ashe thought for a moment. "You know, you're probably right."
She whirled around to look at him. "You've got to be kidding. You're
agreeing with me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Ross appears to be irrelevant at this point,
either way. Sherrie said the police verified his call from Midland to
Kelmar's room in Las Vegas the night of the murder."

"That proves a call was made from his house, but not who made it."

"True." Brada said, "I think I'll hang around here instead of booking
another flight. Besides, if they cancel my flight again, it'll be me
you're trying to get off the hook for murder."

"I don't doubt that a bit. Anyway, Rae and I are planning a trip to the
new HER site in western Oklahoma early next week. We could easily swing
down to Midland if Nathan still thinks it's important someone check out
Ross." "That makes a lot more sense to me," she said. Ashe turned to
leave but Brada added, "Before you go, I have a couple of things I'd
like to run by you." He stopped, facing her again. "Fire away."

"Rae told Dinell and me what happened in the lobby the other night. Have
you considered that this Jace kid may just be another Petroco spy?" He
laughed. "A spy? Isn't that taking all this a bit too far?"

"Ashe, you have to admit his story is a little farfetched.

I just think we need to watch him. Closely."

"We are watching him."

"Really? According to Rae, you two let him walk out of here the other
night without a care in the world. And that was after he pulled a knife
on you. Pretty darn generous of you."

"Maybe we shouldn't have let him go, but the only alternative was to
send him to jail. Deep down, he seemed like a nice young man who
deserved a break."

"Andy was a nice man, too. He certainly didn't deserve what he got."
Ashes face hardened. "I agree, but it's too late to change how we
handled it now. What else did you want to discuss?" Brada walked to the
door to be certain she couldn't be overheard before she lowered her
voice and asked, "Do you think Dinell's been acting a little odd
lately?" Ashe hesitated, then said, "Not odd, just tired."

"Why would she be so tired? As far as I can see, the rest of us are
putting in just as many hours, if not more."

"True, but I think Nathan's absence impacts her directly.

She has to sit there looking at his empty office all day, and you know
how close they are. Half the time it seems like she's reading his mind."

"If you say so. It's just odd that, oh, never mind."

"Come on, Brada, say it."

"I've been giving all this 'bad luck' we've been having a lot of
thought. Dinell has access to all the confidential information and
everyone's schedules, including things like when HER would be drilling
and when testing would be done at our Solar/Wind facility. She even knew
about my meeting with Marilyn, and you told me yourself she knew why her
mother came here the day she was killed. And that diskette Margaret
sent, she had access to it before anyone else ever even knew it existed.
She could've erased it to be sure her secret was safe. It just seems
like too many coincidences to ignore, especially when you consider
everything."

"Everything?"

"Don't you know? Dinell's IQ is up in the clouds somewhere.

She's a member of Mensa, and yet she's a secretary.

I've always thought it was strange. She could do anything, anywhere, yet
she works here in a job where she has no control, no authority, no
people to supervise, no chance for advancement. Does that make sense to
you?"

"Maybe she likes what she's doing," Ashe said.

"And maybe she's doing what she likes." Clearly frustrated, Ashe said,
"Speak English, Brada."

"What if someone from outside wanted to hurt RESCUE?

Can you think of a better way than having an informant in the executive
office?" Ashe paced, deep in thought for several seconds, then said,
"This whole conversation disgusts me. If we turn on each other now,
we'll never pull through." Brada held up her hands. "Okay, I didn't mean
to start a war. I'm just trying to help Nathan." He turned to leave. "We
all are. Even Dinell."

"That's him!" Jace shouted.

Rae froze the frame of the security tape. It showed a rather
average-looking white man in a business suit carrying an oversize
attache case. "You know, he looks a lot like that janitor." Past
forwarding, Rae stopped on the second image. One glance at Jace
confirmed her suspicions.

Ashe asked, "Are you sure? Both are pretty fuzzy images." Jace was
visibly shaking. "I'll never forget him as long as I live. No matter
what disguise he wears, he can't hide those eyes." Rae touched his
shoulder and calmly told him, "At least he can't hurt you now." Pulling
away from her, Jace sputtered, "Bullshit! No wonder you want to protect
the ozone layer, lady. That must be where you've been living. "Cause of
him, I'll probably never see my mama again, or my baby sisters." Ashe
said, "But, Jace, we'll help you. With this information we can contact
the police. I guarantee you they'll listen."

"Yeah, right. Look at him. Once the police have me, he'll have me. Which
one of us you think they're gonna believe?" Rae replied, "Then we'll
just have to handle this matter a little differently then we'd planned.
Ashe and I will meet with the police. We don't have to mention how we
found out about the car theft, or the man who's trying to kill you.

We'll come up with a way to--"

"To get me killed!" Jace shouted.

Ashe said, "Calm down. She's right. We can work around you for a while.
No one has to know your name, or who you are. You feed us the details,
like how you stole the car, where you left it, what you took. Basically,
we need to have something concrete to work with so the police will know
there really is a problem." Jace laughed. "Stealing it was easy. I got
the recipe for a grabber off the Internet."

"A grabber?" Rae asked.

Jace proudly said, "It's a thing that intercepts the signals people send
when they remotely set their car alarms and lock their doors. We waited
in the bushes and watched for an easy target. Once he was inside the
building, all we did was use the grabber to send the same signal to
unlock the car. It was awesome! The door locks popped up and we were
in!"

"You built one of these all by yourself?" Rae asked.

"Sure. I'm really good with electronics. I can fix almost anything."
Ashe said, "Good. Where'd you leave the car?" Jace's jaw clamped tightly
closed as he walked toward the basement's narrow door. Just as he
reached it, Ashe said, "Walk out now, and he'll be after you for the
rest of your life, which may not be very long." Jace's hand froze on the
doorknob for several seconds before he turned back to face them. "What
difference does it make? I can't go near my own family! I got no friends
left. Anything I do in this town, he'll know."

"Who'll know?" He stomped back, thrusting his finger at the picture on
the surveillance screen. "If I was ready to die, I would've rolled over
and let him kill me the first time."

"Because of that car you stole? If he's so lethal, how'd you manage to
get away?" Jace hung his head and shrugged. "Luck?" Ashes eyes
narrowed. "You've got something he needs, don't you?" Jace's eyes darted
around the room.

"Where is it?"

"Someplace nobody but me knows. It's safe there." Rae couldn't contain
her anger. "Jace! You've got to go to the police!"

"No!" Looking her right in the eye, he added, "If you don't quit pushing
the police, I'm leaving!"

"Why?"

"Because he'll hurt my mama and my sisters! He already ransacked our
house when we were at Cory's funeral. I won't risk them!"

"Who's Cory?" Jace ignored Ashes question for a moment, then softly
said, "My baby brother. The one I killed when I wrecked the damned
stolen car!" Absolute silence fell around them. Finally Rae said, "I'm
sorry, Jace."

"Me, too," Ashe said.

"Yeah. Me, too," Jace sighed.

"If you trust us, we can help," Rae said.

"How?" Ashe leaned close. "Tell me where the evidence you have against
him is. I'll take it to the police. They can fingerprint it and put a
warrant out for his arrest." Jace eyed them suspiciously, then asked,
"And what if they don't have them on file? Then what?"

"We'll print this picture and find out. I'm sure someone who works here
will recognize him. We don't have many strangers coming through RESCUE,
especially disguised as janitors."

"And you'd leave me out of it? You won't turn me in?"

"For as long as possible. But sooner or later, Jace, you're going to
have to make this right." He shook his head. "I can't make it right. I
can't hurt my mama like that. It's bad enough Cory's dead. It would kill
her if she knew her other son killed him." Ashe and Rae exchanged a look
of concern, but before they could argue with him, he said, "If I tell
you where to find the thing, will you get off my back?"

"Sounds like we don't have a choice," Ashe muttered.

Jace grabbed a piece of paper and quickly sketched a map.

"It's under this bridge not far from where we went off the road. If you
crawl up the grass and reach around the steel girder, you'll feel the
handle. It's a silver briefcase, and inside is a crossbow like you've
never seen before. Laser sights. The works."

"Are your fingerprints on it?"

"I'm not stupid. I had on gloves. We weren't going to keep the car. Cory
just wanted to ride around for a while.

You know, pretend he was somebody." Rae walked over to Jace and hugged
him. "You've certainly been through a lot lately." Stiffening, he said,
"I ain't coming back here. They'll be watching for me."

"Fine. You name the place we meet again."

"I'll call." Ashe jotted down the phone number and handed it to him.
"Leave a message on my voice mail if I'm not at my desk."

"Okay. I'll call tomorrow to tell you where to meet me.

Just the two of you will know, right?"

"Right." They walked silently up the stairs to the lobby. Ashe and Rae
followed Jace to the van, then watched as he pulled out of the parking
lot. Just after he turned the corner at the far end of the street, a car
slid into the lane behind him, its headlights dark. They could barely
see Jace's taillights as he turned left a block away. The other car
turned left, too, it's brake lights never glowing as it rolled through
the intersection.

Ashe muttered, "Oh, shit." He exchanged a quick glance with Rae and
grabbed her hand. Together, they ran across the parking lot to his car.
The tires screeched as they fishtailed into the street.

Ashe and Rae ran three red lights, praying they were going the right
way. Luckily, traffic was light, and after about a mile they could see
both cars ahead. "Are you buckled?" Ashe asked.

"Yep," Rae answered nervously. "What are you going to do?"

"I think the best thing would be to stay back and follow them." "Do you
have your cell phone?" she asked.

Ashe pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"The problem is, by the time we call for help, whatever they have in
mind will probably be over. We need a way to make sure Jace gets away."

"Why don't you pull in front of the car that's following him and slam on
your brakes? That should at least slow down whoever it is."

"Good idea." Ashe floored the accelerator, easily passing the late-model
blue sedan with darkly tinted windows.

"Hold on," he said. His car squealed to an immediate stop, catching the
other driver off guard. They both watched as the car behind them
expertly veered around them, then slid sideways. Its front tire bounced
over the curb as it came to a sudden, screeching stop.

Rae grabbed Ashes arm as she twisted to watch. "We'd better get out of
here!"

"I'd rather see who it is first. But don't worry. We'll be outta here
before you can blink if whoever's in there comes out with a gun."

"Thanks. I feel a lot better now," she said sarcastically.

It didn't take long for someone to step out of the car, and the two of
them shared a confused look when they immediately recognized the woman.

Brada was storming toward them!

Ashe jumped out of his car, meeting her halfway.

"What the hell are you doing?" Brada screamed.

His voice matched hers in both volume and intensity as he answered, "We
thought we were trying to help Jace!

Why in the world were you following him?"

"Because we both know he could be part of our problem!

I was just going to find out where he's staying, so we can get some
background information on him. You're too damn trusting! We don't even
know if he's really who he says he is!"

"Damn it, yes, we do! He doesn't know it, but I already contacted the
police. Even though I gave them only sketchy details, apparently at
least part of his story is true." "Really?" she asked incredulously.

He was starting to calm down. "Really." Brada wrinkled her nose. "Then I
just screwed up, didn't I?" Ashe looked down the road they'd been
traveling. "Let's hope not. I think he was far enough in front of you
that he wouldn't have noticed. Besides, I doubt if he would think the
little traffic stunt I just pulled had anything to do with him."

"God, I hope I haven't blown all your hard work! I'm really sorry, Ashe.
I should've trusted your judgment."

"It's okay. Is your car all right?"

"Probably needs a front-end alignment, but I think it'll be fine."

"Then let's all go home. It's been a long day." As they drove away, Rae
kept her eyes on the road behind them for a few moments, then asked,
"We're not really going home, are we?"

"Of course not." Thirty minutes later, they found the bridge. Ashe drove
past it, then pulled onto a dirt road and parked.

"Are you making sure no one's following us?"

"Absolutely. There's no use taking any chances."

"What if someone stops?" Curling his fingers around the back of her
neck, he pulled her gently to him. After a long, sensual kiss he
whispered, "They'll think we had other reasons for parking here." While
romantically sprinkling light kisses over his face, Rae said, "Life with
you  ...  gets more exciting every minute.

Murders  ...  hidden treasure  ...  what next?"

"Hopefully, a big climax!"

"Ashe!" Rae laughed, blushing as she pulled away. "We | have a lot to
learn about each other before we take that step."

"I was talking about retrieving the crossbow, but your interpretation is
much more intriguing. What exactly do you want to learn about me?" Rae
was obviously embarrassed. "I ...  didn't mean that quite so  ...  so
literally." With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Ashe tickled her.

"Oh, come on. Let's see. My favorite color is blue. I've never been
married, and I think you have the prettiest smile in the entire world."
She couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks."

"Now it's your turn. Favorite color?"

"Purple."

"How long were you married?" Rae was instantly serious. "Oh, Ashe, let's
not go there."

"We have to sooner or later. As far as I can tell, it's the only thing
standing between us." Rae was quiet. Gazing out the window at the stars,
she said, "I'll always love him. Always."

"That doesn't mean you can't love someone else, too."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I can see it in your eyes, in that smile. He'd want you to be happy,
wouldn't he?"

"Of course. It's just ...  you don't understand!"

"Then make me understand. Tell me why you can't let go." Rae was silent
for a long time. Finally, she sighed as tears welled up. "I lost my
husband in the Oklahoma City bombing. He left to run an errand, to
deliver some copies, and I never saw him again." Ashe pulled her into
his arms relieved to finally know the truth. "I know how horrible it
must have been, and I know the pain will never leave. But it was years
ago, and you deserve to move on." As if a light had just snapped on,
Ashe tilted her face so he could see her eyes. "Is that why you ran off
at the HER site the night of Andy's murder?

Because you thought there might be a bomb?" She nodded. "That brought it
all back. Then I was so embarrassed, and I didn't want you to feel sorry
for me.

The people killed in the bombing weren't the only victims."

"I'm sure that's true. But keeping it a secret isn't necessary."

"Don't you see? That's why I wanted this job! I needed to get away from
Oklahoma. Everyone here has been wonderful, very supportive of me, and I
don't have to wonder if it's because they think I need their help. It's
just, after a while, you get worn out seeing that 'poor thing' look in
people's eyes when they pass you on the street. It's a constant reminder
of something horrible that happened in the past."

"Rae, I'd like you to feel free to talk to me about anything, at any
time. I respected you before you told me because you've earned it. All
that's changed now is that I know I was right. You're a very special
woman. A woman I've fallen hopelessly in love with." After wiping away
her tears, Rae kissed him, and for the first time in years her heart and
soul became one.

At noon the next day, Rae was absentmindedly staring out the window
of Sshe's office, waiting for him to return.

She was fascinated by the heat waves shimmering from the parking lot, as
if they were crawling back to their home in the huge California sky.
Hearing him behind her, she whirled around. "So, how'd it go at the
police station? Is one of our suppliers really a cold-blooded killer?"

"Looks that way. Harvey Walters certainly has some explaining to do."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic." Tossing aside his briefcase, Ashe
plopped into the desk chair. "That's because I just spent three hours
trying to say things without saying anything. Helping Jace is next to
impossible without his cooperation!" Rae rubbed his shoulders. "I know
it's frustrating, but I have to admit, I can see his point. I don't
think I'd be in a hurry to turn myself in under these circumstances. I
know it's wrong for him not to be punished, but I think he's learned his
lesson." Ashe sighed. "I'm not sure if they were just trying to scare
the hell out of me, or if it was the truth, but Jace was right about
that crossbow we recovered last night. The police weapons expert said it
was something only a pro would use. Remember those odd blue molds? He
thinks that it's the crossbow that was used to murder Senators Evans and
Giles. By the time I left, there were FBI agents crawling all over the
place. I'm afraid we may be in way over our heads!"

"Oh, my God! Now what are we going to do?"

"Before the FBI gets to him, I want to see if Harvey Walters is safe and
sound in Denver where he can't hurt Jace.

Why don't you listen on the extension?" Rae nodded and grabbed the other
phone when Ashe signaled the long-distance call had gone through. "This
is Ashe Freeman with RESCUE, Inc. Could I please speak to Harvey
Walters?"

"I'm afraid he isn't in right now," the receptionist replied.

"When do you expect him to return?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Walters will be out of the country indefinitely due to a
family emergency."

"Oh."

"Would you like me to transfer you to your account rep?"

"No. Actually, I thought I just saw him here in town. Do you happen to
know if Mr. Walters drives a late-model Lincoln?"

"He did until a couple of weeks ago, when it was stolen."

"I see. Well, thank you for your help." Silence filled the room until
Ashe finally said, "Walters could be anywhere."

"So what do we do now?" Rae asked.

"We have to get Jace to turn himself in, or lie to him and take him to
the police ourselves."

"Or  ..." Rae smiled. "What if we put him someplace where no one can
find him? That way he's safe, and we don't break our word." Ashe nodded,
pulling her close. "Great minds really do think alike." Jace watched the
hands move slowly around the face of the old clock hanging on the
kitchen wall. George was bringing his wife home from the hospital today,
and they would be there any minute. Time was running out. He dialed the
phone number and waited.

"Ashe Freeman."

"I want to do it right away."

"Fine, but we need to talk first. The police verified your story. You're
in grave danger. Do you trust me?" Jace sucked in a deep breath. "Like I
got a choice?"

"Rae thought of a way to keep you safe, and I think it's our best bet.
We'll leave the police out of the picture for a while, but you have to
trust us." Jace heard the van pull into the driveway, then the sound of
George talking softly to his wife. His stomach clenched as he realized
he was risking the life of the only man who had ever treated him with
respect. "Okay. Tell me what you want to do."

"We can pick you up, or meet you at the airport."

"Airport," Jace said.

"Gate twenty-two?" Ashe asked.

"Okay. Leave now?"

"Now's great. Everything's going to be all right, Jace.

And, remember, no weapons at the airport."

"Whatever." He hung up just as George helped his wife in the door. Jace
took her hand and said, "I've heard lots of nice things about you.
George really missed you. I'm glad you're feeling better." She smiled.
Tears welled in her eyes as she studied Jace's familiar face. After
casting a glance at George, she warmly said to Jace, "Thanks for keeping
him company while I was gone." Jace beamed at George. "I kept him in
line for you." Turning serious, he added, "He's been real good to me. I
hate to ask, but can I borrow the van one last time?" George threw him
the keys. "It runs better now than it ever has. You're quite a
mechanic."

"Thanks for everything," Jace said as he stared at him, wishing he could
hide with these people forever. "I can't tell you how much you helped
me." The finality in Jace's eyes was apparent. "What goes around comes
around, son. I'll sure miss you. Remember, do what's right and the rest
will work itself out."

"I'm trying to." George hugged him, carefully avoiding his broken arm as
he whispered in his ear, "Just call and tell me where you leave the old
rattletrap. Put the keys under the driver's-side mat. I'll come get it
later." Tears were in Jace's eyes as he ran out the door.


Chapter 14.


"What do you mean, right now?"

"I mean, we have to leave for the airport. Immediately." Rae's eyes
widened. "But ...  I haven't packed  ..." Ashe grabbed her hand.
"Neither have I. We'll have to pick up a few things when we get there.
I'm sure Jace will need some warm clothes, too. We both know how cold
that HER site can be." Rae stopped in her tracks. "Wait!" She rushed
back in her office, opened the bottom drawer, and grabbed a Geiger
counter and the radiation badges they'd worn at the site. As she stuffed
them inside her briefcase, she said, "We might need these."

"Good thinking." They dashed down the hall, practically running over
Dinell as she came out of the executive suite. "Where are you two off to
in such a hurry?" she asked.

Ashe answered, "We're meeting Jace at the airport. I'll check in every
day."

"Where will you be?" she asked.

He quickly looked up and down the hall, then whispered, "You know Jace
can identify Harvey Walters as a professional killer. We're taking him
to the fake HER site, where he'll be safe. Have you told Sherrie and
Nathan?"

"First thing. She was on her way to visit him, so I'm sure by now
they're thinking of ways to stop Walters."

"Good. We'll see you in a few days." They hurried down the hall, then
ran down the stairs.

When they were in Ashes car, Rae asked, "Why'd you tell Dinell we were
going to the fake HER site? I thought we agreed to pitch a tent at the
old site where no one would expect anyone to be, just in case our trap
worked and someone from Petroco shows up to cause trouble."

"That is where we're going, but this way we may find out who we can
trust and who we can't. Maybe Brada was right about Dinell. I don't want
anyone to know where we are really staying besides you, me, and Jace.
You wouldn't happen to have your "bodyguard" in your purse, would you?"
Rae smiled shyly and shrugged. "Well, yes." Ashe reached over the seat,
grabbed a duffel bag, and dropped it in her lap. "Unload it, then put it
and the Geiger counter in here. We'll check it as baggage, so you don't
get thrown in jail."

"Good plan. Wait a minute, no lecture this time?"

"I can't exactly blame you for not feeling safe lately. But after all
this is through, you'll have to promise not to--" Holding up her hands,
she said, "Okay, okay." She winked at him as she leaned close and wound
her arm around his.

"Besides, I'd rather have a real live bodyguard around to protect me."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," he said.

Walters shut off the engine of the Land Cruiser he had bought with cash
the day he left Denver and stared at the headquarters of Petroco. During
the drive across New Mexico and the Texas panhandle, he'd had plenty of
time to think of ways to make them pay. The answer came to him at the
end of a long day on the road. It was time to start the wheels turning
that he'd set in motion years ago.

Stopping at the first motel he saw, he paid cash for a room and carried
his bags inside. Two briefcases held all the documentation he had
accumulated over the last twelve years with the help of his contact at
RESCUE. Unzipping the carrying case, he gently lifted out his laptop
computer and set it on the table. After connecting his modem, he was
ready to begin.

In a matter of minutes, he drafted an outline. Changing files, he
scanned his personal phone directory until he found the numbers he
needed. He dialed the first phone number and waited.

"Corbin White," the woman snapped, her voice gravelly, tired.

Walters spoke through a device that rendered his voice unrecognizable.
"You are the youngest journalist ever to land a Pulitzer prize, aren't
you?"

"Yes. Listen, I'm sorry to be rude, but I was on my way out. What can I
do for you?"

"Would you be interested in a story that could bring down one of the
largest oil companies in the world? Are you willing to expose them as
the greedy bastards that they are?" There was a pause, then, "Of course.
What have you got?"

"Do you have a fax machine you can personally monitor?"

"Yes."

"Give me the number. Wait by the machine, then read what I have. I'll
call you back in ten minutes." He jotted down her fax number, then hung
up, switched on the modem, and faxed her the outline. Precisely ten
minutes later, he called again.

"Corbin White." This time she was alert, eager to talk.

"Did you get it?"

"You bet. Where did you get this information?"

"That's irrelevant, but I assure you I have documentation to support
every claim. The important question is, are you willing to set up
Petroco's current president, Karl Ross, to prove the allegations are
true?" "Anything illegal involved?" she asked.

"Slightly."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I can arrange for him to meet with you. He will believe you have
designed a revolutionary lightweight battery, capable of efficiently
running automobiles and small vans utilizing a combination of electric
and solar power. Your invention supposedly allows the economical
production of electric cars in the very near future. Of course, you
would have to arrange for the meeting to be secretly filmed, etcetera,
and be convincing. I want the public to see what kind of people are
running America."

"What am I supposed to do if he wants the plans for this wonder
battery?"

"If my guess is right, you should be able to get the evidence you need
without bringing the actual product to the table. I've already planted
enough hype about it that any area checks will verify the product
exists. The point is to show Petroco's desire to hinder the progress of
pollutionfree transportation--that their arrangements to purchase
brilliant ideas, although perfectly legal, are somewhat less than
ethical."

"And you'll provide actual documentation of the other items you listed?"

"Petroco has effectively buried most of the technology I mentioned in my
fax. I can, however, give you the writeups the inventions received
before the inventors suddenly withdrew their ideas from the public. Of
course, my identity will remain unknown, for obvious reasons. Are you
interested?"

"That depends on the price."

"Ah, a woman to be reckoned with. My payment will be watching you nail
them to the wall. But there is one catch."

"There always is."

"You'll have to meet with him tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! How do you expect me to set everything up so soon?"

"That's why you have a Pulitzer and I don't. You're resourceful."
Walters hung up and smiled. He checked his watch, then dialed the second
number on his list.

"Hello."

"Find out anything?"

"Ashe and Rae know everything. Who you are, what you look like,
everything." Walters was quiet for a while. "Where are they?"

"An HER site in Oklahoma."

"What the hell are they doing there?"

"Apparently, they believe you're trying to kill Jace Williams."

"With good cause," he muttered.

"Being the good little Samaritans that they are, Ashe and Rae are hiding
him until you're locked up."

"Not a wise decision."

"If there isn't a warrant out for your arrest already, there will be
soon. Not only from the information Williams gave them, but from Chuck's
murder. Apparently, the evidence against Nathan is unraveling quickly."

"Shit. I expected it to take them months. Where, exactly, are they
hiding Jace?"

"About five miles due north of the site you sabotaged.

There's another abandoned well there. I'll fax you an aerial map." She
laughed, adding, "Rae had this harebrained idea that Petroco would try
to sabotage that site as well!" Inwardly he seethed. She didn't even
bother to pretend that it wasn't a Petroco well she had asked him to
contaminate with radiation. He took a deep breath to calm himself before
asking, "How long will they be there?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. When will you take care of them?"

"Sunday morning. I can wrap up what I'm doing here anytime, for that
matter, from anywhere. Don't worry, I'll make sure no one is available
for future comment." Covering his irritation with her, he sweetly said,
"As always, your information has been extremely helpful." Gently
cradling the receiver, he made certain the line was disconnected, then
added, "And when I'm finished with them, it will be your turn to pay. No
one is going to make a fool out of me. Not you, not that stupid black
kid, no one!" Sherrie walked out of Nathan's office just as Dinell hung
up her phone. "Everything okay?" she asked.

Dinell nodded nervously, then took a deep breath. "I'm just having a
hard time right now." Sherrie smiled and waited, encouraging her to
continue by being silent.

"That was my  ...  sister on the phone. She found out a couple of weeks
ago she's very ill. They want to know if I'm a possible kidney donor.
This is the third time she's called this week."

"Are you worried about the procedure?" Dinell's eyes darted about the
room. "Yes and no. My sister and I have never been close. Even when we
were kids we fought all the time. In fact, we haven't spoken in more
than ten years. It's almost like having a total stranger come up to you
and ask you to undergo a serious operation.

Then, on top of everything else, they need help paying for it because
they don't have medical insurance. I want to help, I really do, but my
husband thinks I'm crazy. He wants me to refuse to even be tested--"

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't think it's fair for her to even ask.

He doesn't care that I may be her last chance. He thinks that because
she always treated me so badly, she should find someone else. I told him
I could sell some of my RESCUE stock to pay for it, and he went nuts.
That stock has always been for our retirement."

"So you're damned if you do, and damned if you don't.

Nothing like loading on the guilt, right?"

"Right." Dinell dabbed her moist eyes with a tissue.

After an awkward silence, Sherrie asked, "It seems awfully quiet around
here. Where is everybody?"

"Ashe and Rae went to an HER site in western Oklahoma, and Brada's been
out all day chasing down some lead she says will help Mr. Greenwall. The
rest of the employees are either keeping their noses to the grindstone
or out looking for jobs." "Is it that bad?" Sherrie asked bleakly, for
the first time realizing that clearing Nathan's name might not be enough
to save RESCUE.

"The articles the newspapers keep running are really getting to
everyone. They make it sound like an open-and-shut case, like the
prosecution has enough evidence to  ...  you know. I guess some people
who work here think he's guilty; others are just afraid they won't have
a job tomorrow.

Dreams are nice, but they don't put food on the table and pay the rent.
Are you making any progress at all on the case?"

"Definitely." Sherrie excitedly added, "You've heard about the carpet
fibers the police found near the body?" Dinel! nodded. "They were
mentioned in the paper."

"But what the paper didn't say was that even though the fibers match the
carpet in Nathan's office, they're unusual."

"Really? Why?"

"First, they've been stretched, like they've been pulled out. Plus, they
have microscopic pieces of latex on them that can't be explained. Both
support our framing theory."

"That's great. I really don't mean to eavesdrop, but I can hear most of
what is said in Mr. Greenwall's office. You've been talking an awful lot
about blood samples lately." Sherrie nodded. "The final lab work won't
be back for several days, but the preliminary reports show there is some
kind of chemical in the blood found at the scene."

"What kind of chemical? Alcohol?"

"No. Preservatives. If they're present in the samples at the scene, it
might prove someone stole Nathan's blood from the Bloodmobile the last
time he donated, then used it to frame him." Dinell shook her head. "Who
would think of such a thing?"

"Obviously, someone very clever, but not quite clever enough. The
forensic expert we hired said the blood-splatter patterns leaving the
hotel room aren't typical of the minor injury sustained by Nathan. The
drops of Nathan's blood the police photographed and collected are large
and round."

"So?"

"So Nathan didn't have any wounds serious enough for blood to be pouring
out. The flesh wound on his arm wasn't deep at all. In fact, it was
practically healed before they even arrested him. Besides, for the drops
to be perfectly round, Nathan would have to have been holding still,
literally dripping blood, not struggling in a fight to the death with
Kelmar. If the lab verifies our suspicions, Nathan's problems are over."
Dinell cocked her head and flatly stated, "Not necessarily."

"Excuse me?" Sherrie asked, amazed at how quickly Dinell had not only
regained her composure, but assumed an aggressive attitude.

She shrugged as she stood up. "Obviously, he's been set up by someone
who wants to hurt him, or get him out of the way for quite a while, if
not forever. When they release him from jail, that problem will still be
there. And this time, whoever is trying to harm him and RESCUE may not
take such an indirect route." Rae jumped out of the pickup, holding the
Geiger counter in front of her as she walked along. Ashe and Jace
unloaded three camouflage pup tents, plus the six boxes of supplies they
had just purchased in town. They had stopped at an Emergency Medical
Center long enough to get a new cast on Jace's arm. It gave him a little
more flexibility since it only went from his wrist to his elbow, and was
wrapped in camouflage to fashionably match the brown, green, and gray
pup tents.

"Are you sure the two of you will be all right here?" Ashe asked.

Rae winked. "Positive, after all, I've got my 'bodyguard."

" Jace perked up, puffing out his chest and lowering his voice to mimic
Ashe: "That's right, I'll take care of the little woman." After rolling
her eyes at Jace, Rae turned her attention back to Ashe. "You'll be back
before dark, right?"

"I certainly hope so." Ashe hopped back in the pickup.

"All I'm going to do is pitch the other two tents at the new site." Rae
and Jace watched the truck bump away along the dirt road. Tugging on the
chest of his brand-new insulated coveralls, Jace asked, "How long do I
have to wear these things? They itch, and they're hot." Rae laughed. "If
you want people to believe you're working on a well site, you have to
dress the part. Believe me, you won't be hot once the sun goes down." He
shook his head and started to walk off. "Stay by me, Jace," she warned.

"I need to check for radiation before you go anywhere."

"Yeah, right. Radiation. I thought you were trying to protect me. Seems
to me you're trying to kill me!"

"We wouldn't have brought you here if there was any real danger. Walters
couldn't possibly know where you are, and the only people who might show
up at the new HER site are some of Petroco's spies. The chances of
either happening are slim since we haven't even cleared the site."

"Why would Petroco send spies?"

"To keep us from succeeding." Pointing to the west, she quickly changed
the subject. "Our tents need to be under that grove of scrub oaks over
there, so they won't be easy to spot from the air, or at night, for that
matter. If you don't mind helping me carry these things--"

"Whoa! You're expecting them to look for us with airplanes and
helicopters?"

"I'm not expecting them to look for us at all! It's just since we don't
know what to expect, we're going to prepare for the absolute worst.
After all, we promised you'd be safe."

"Why can't we stay in that mobile home over there?"

"It might be contaminated. Besides, camping out is more fun. Right?"

"How would I know?"

"Haven't you ever communed with nature before?"

"I ain't sure what that means, but if it means not having hot water and
a place to  ...  sit in the morning, I don't think I'm gonna like it
much." Jace grabbed a load of supplies, including the gadgets they'd
picked up at various electronic stores. "When do I get to rig up those
things we talked about on the plane?"

"After we get everything ready for tonight. We need to pitch the tents
and get the supplies squared away so raccoons or other critters don't
run off with them." He stopped in his tracks. "Raccoons?"

"Jace, we are in the middle of nowhere, you know." He searched the area.
"What other kinda animals haven't you bothered to tell me about? Bears?
Lions? Tigers?"

"More like deer, elk, wild pigs, and stray dogs. Nothing that won't be
as afraid of you as you are of it."

"What about snakes? I don't like snakes. Or spiders."

"Too cold for snakes. Now, if it was warmer  ..." They reached the trees
and put down the first load of supplies. Jace immediately started
rummaging through the boxes. Rae asked, "What are you looking for?"

"That hunting knife we bought. I think I'll keep it with me. I feel
kinda naked without my blade." Rae laughed, but in reality she thought
it was an excellent idea.

The site of the abandoned well was much rougher than when RESCUE first
tested it and had pictures taken years ago. In fact, the area was so
overgrown, Ashe wasn't certain whether he was still on the road or not,
especially since there were so many potholes and washed-out places.
Finally, after inching and bumping along for several minutes, he decided
it would be faster to walk.

With the aerial photo of the site in hand, he searched the area until he
finally found a pile of gravel he recognized.

Pulling back some dead weeds, he located the old well site, which
obviously hadn't been touched in years. Kicking through the crunchy
overgrowth, he located the rest of the equipment nature had disguised so
well.

Glancing at the sun falling low in the sky, he knew he had a problem. It
was already late afternoon, and there were no clear places to pitch one
tent, much less two. Blackjacks and scrub oaks had covered the land,
most of them three to four feet tall. Even though a 'dozer could clear
the area in a matter of minutes, Ashe knew that it would take him hours
using a machete. Even the hand-held torch they had brought along to burn
brush couldn't be used.

Hiking to the pickup, he decided to go back to the real campsite. They
could return in the morning to pitch the tents, and at the same time rig
the booby traps they'd devised.

When he reached the driver's side, he realized the truck was listing at
an odd angle. Walking around the bed, he saw the back passenger-side
tire was flat.

Kicking the dirt, he muttered, "Shit!" Stomping back to the cab, he
cursed the entire way. Digging under the seat, he found the pouch of
tools he needed to fix the tire. As he wedged the jack under the frame,
the soft ground crumbled with every move. After thirty minutes of
dragging rocks over, he finally had the tire far enough off the ground
to take it off.

It hadn't dawned on him that there might not be a spare.

"You worried?" Jace asked.

"Of course not. Ashe can take care of himself, and so can we." She
stirred the chili cooking over the camp stove, ladling some into a bowl
before she turned off the stove and put a lid on the pot. "I don't think
he'd care if we ate without him. It's getting pretty late." The night
was quiet except for the wind rustling the few stubborn brown leaves
still clinging to the branches. Jace took the bowl of chili and
immediately started eating as though he hadn't been fed in years.
Halfway through, he slowed down long enough to ask, "Aren't you gonna
have any?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You sound mad," Jace mumbled as saltine cracker crumbs fell from his
lips.

"Only at myself. This was not a good plan. We should've all stayed
together, or at least kept the cell phone so we could call for help. I
can't believe I agreed to it."

"I'm having a hard time believing I'm even here." He set down the empty
bowl and pointed at the evening sky.

"Look how clear it is up there. You can see every star." Rae turned off
the lantern, leaving them in darkness. Relaxing, she sat next to Jace
and stared at the constellations with him. "They're pretty awesome
without any city lights to fade them." Jace was quiet, then asked, "Did
someone die here?" Startled, Rae answered, "Yes, but how'd you find
out?"

"There's a little wooden cross over by that drilling rig. It says,
"Daddy, We miss you."

" The first thing that crossed Rae's mind was concern for Andy's family,
but exasperation at Jace for ignoring the warning signs quickly took
over. She unleashed her anger by shouting, "Jace! I told you not to go
anywhere near there without me! We're not kidding about there being
radiation problems here. When did you go? How long did you stay? Do you
understand how dangerous radiation poisoning can be?"

"Jeez. I just walked over while you were pitching the tents to see what
it said. I wasn't there but a second, and I didn't touch anything."

"You don't have to touch anything. Just being near the source exposes
you, and we know the well is contaminated.

It can kill you, Jace. Not necessarily that instant, like a bullet, but
over a period of years--cancers, horrible things.

Don't do it again. Please?" He stared at her, then nodded.

"Promise?" Jace didn't answer. He was too busy jumping up and struggling
with the hunting knife at his side.

They had both heard the rustling noise a few yards from camp. Rae
hurried into the pup tent where her things were stowed, pulling the gun
from under the pillow of her sleeping bag. "Jace, get in here!" she
whispered.

Jace had succeeded in removing the knife from its leather sheath, and it
was the first thing Rae saw as he crawled into the small tent. Rae
pulled him close, breathing, "Shhhhh  ..." Twigs snapped outside as
leaves blew against the side of the tent. Whatever it was, it was
approaching fast.


Chapter 15.


Rae clutched Jace's arm as the rustling noise moved closer.

"It's probably just a raccoon," she whispered.

"Must be a damn big one," Jace muttered. "Sounds more like a bear."

"I told you, there aren't any bears around here." Glaring at her, he
asked, "A mountain lion?"

"How many mountains did you see on our drive out here?"

"Maybe it's just Ashe."

"I didn't hear the pickup." Jace shrugged. "Could've broke down. That
would explain why he's so late."

"Ashe wouldn't sneak up on us. He knows I have a gun."

"I think we should run. This flimsy tent is a death trap." Rae looked
around the small enclosure, instantly realizing Jace was right. The pup
tent's material was too thin to stop anything that really wanted to harm
them, and the narrow exit made a quick escape impossible. She shifted to
her knees. "I'll peek out and see what's out there. The problem is,
where do we run?" "That mobile home?" Jace asked.

"It's locked."

"The rig?" She glared at him. "Do you remember where the road is?"

"Of course. I keep telling you, I ain't stupid."

"Then get to it and head north. I'll be behind you. Maybe we'll run into
Ashe. When I give you the signal, you go for it. Remember to stay low,
and that most animals are more afraid of you than you are of them."

"What if it ain't an animal? What if it's a person? What if it's n'w?"
Trying to sound calm, Rae said, "How could it be? No one knows where we
are. No one except Ashe, and he wouldn't do anything like this."

"What if he has a sick sense of humor?"

"Under the circumstances, that wouldn't be very wise, now would it?"

"Maybe it's that dead guy's ghost from the oil rig. Maybe he don't like
people running around here bothering him." She rolled her eyes, then
leaned forward, poking her head out the zippered opening that served as
the tent's door. "I don't see anything."

"I don't hear nothing." But the second he stopped talking, they both
heard a low, guttural bawl. With wide eyes Jace asked, "What the hell
was that?"

"I don't know, but it's pretty close. I've got the gun. You make a run
for it, and I'll cover you." Rae rolled out of the tent and landed in a
crouch, the gun ready to fire in her extended hand. Jace followed,
lurching forward, then running at top speed toward the road.

From the brush a huge animal emerged, aggressively charging Jace at an
impressive pace. In the moonlight Rae could tell it was only a bull,
complete with long, lethallooking horns. Jace, no doubt, was certain he
was being attacked by a beast straight from hell.

Rae dropped the gun to her side, watching as Jace climbed the first tree
he came to, the new cast on his left forearm not slowing him down a bit.
Unable to control herself, she started snickering as soon as she knew he
was safe. In a matter of seconds she was laughing so hard she could
barely see past the tears in her eyes.

Jace was busy trying to climb higher in the gnarly tree, the limbs
beneath him bending each time he pulled his legs away from the bull's
horns. When he finally found a branch strong enough to hold him, he
glanced down at the bull, which seemed intent on standing guard directly
below until he surrendered.

Just as Jace was about to call for help, he caught a glimpse of someone
emerging from the shadows behind Rae. She heard Jace's warning at the
exact moment a hand touched her shoulder from behind. Screaming at the
top of her lungs, Rae whirled around, bringing the gun to shoulder
level, ready to fire.

Ashe instinctively ducked sideways as he shouted, "It's me! Don't
shoot!"

"What the hell are you doing here?" she howled.

"Looking for you! Don't the lanterns we bought work?" She lowered the
gun and took a deep breath. "They work fine. We were watching the stars
when we heard him." She pointed toward the bull.

"Oh, I know all about him. I've crossed his path a couple of times in
the last hour. I think he lost his girlfriend. A little testy, isn't
he?"

"I'll say. He scared the hell out of us," Rae muttered.

"As a matter of fact, you both did." "Where's Jace?" Ashe asked.

Jace answered by calling, "I'm up here. Would you two shut up and make
him go away!" At the sound of Jace's anxious voice, Rae started
snickering again.

Ashe walked a little closer. "Exactly how do you propose I make him
leave you alone?" A long silence was followed by Jace shouting, "Use the
rest of the chili as bait. Maybe he smelled it cooking, and that's why
he came."

"Hey, Jace!" Ashe hollered back. "What do you suppose is in that chili?"
More silence. Ashe and Jace had caught Rae's contagious laughter, and
Jace answered from high in the tree, "I suppose it's some of his
frigging relatives. Maybe he came to avenge their deaths."

"Probably," Ashe called.

Rae wiped more tears from her eyes. "Where's the pickup?

Maybe you could convince Mr. Bull to move with a friendly little push."

"Flat tire. No spare. That's why I'm late, and on foot."

"Maybe this place really is possessed!" The bull snorted, turned
completely around twice, then took several steps toward Ashe and Rae.
She glanced down, picking up the ladle and the lid to the pot. Banging
them together, she started to walk toward the bull, who backed up a few
steps, then stopped to stare at her.

"What are you doing?" Ashe hissed. "He charged me twice on the way. I
don't think he's in any mood to be taunted."

"I'm just scaring him a little. Letting him know we aren't going to put
up with his nonsense. Trust me, my grandpa John had a farm, and I spent
a lot of time there as a kid.

But just in case, if I were you I'd pick which tree you want to sleep in
tonight." Jace yelled, "Oh, yeah, he looks absolutely terrified of that
racket you're making." In response to a distant, similar bawl, the bull
grunted again. He whirled back around, lumbering slowly down the road
with his tail swishing. When he was almost out of sight, Jace shouted,
"I can't get down!" Ashe winked at Rae and yelled, "What was that?"

"I'm stuck up here!"

"And?" Ashe shouted.

Exasperated, Jace screamed, "And I can't get down!"

"So?" Ashe asked, smiling from ear to ear.

"So, you goin' to get me outta this frigging tree or not?"

"Are you asking for help, Jace? Because I haven't heard you ask for help
yet, and I know you don't like us helping you all the time. You said so
yourself on the plane yesterday.

At least, that's what I assumed all those silent glares were implying.
One of these days you're going to realize we aren't doing all this for
ourselves." Thirty seconds later, they barely heard him mumble, "I'm
never getting on a plane again. Besides, I was tired yesterday.

And my arm hurt."

"And Rae and I weren't tired?"

"I'm sorry!" Jace bellowed.

Rae winked at Ashe. "Apology accepted!"

"I still can't get down!" he yelled.

Ashe took Rae's arm, turning her around with him. They both started to
walk back to the tents, ignoring Jace's incredulous screams from high in
the tree.

"Any chili left?" Ashe asked as he moved toward the camp stove.

"Sure. So, you had to walk all the way back from the other site?" she
asked.

He nodded. "It took awhile, since I didn't have a flashlight and Mr.
Bull kept harassing me. I wish I'd had a chance to charge my cell phone
before we left. It was pretty weak when I used it to call someone to
bring out a new tire. Naturally, they couldn't be here with a spare
until morning. While I was at it, I lined up a 'dozer, too."

"A 'dozer? I thought we were minimizing costs."

"This plan isn't going to work if we can't make it look like we're
staying at that site. Right now it's covered with such thick brush, it's
hard to walk, much less pitch a tent.

We only need to clear a small area."

"It's just as well. I was worried about burning brush when the grass is
so dry. We'd need a good rain first, and we don't have time to wait for
one." Ignoring Jace's cussing in the background, Rae asked, "Isn't this
getting out of hand?"

"Jace? No, he'll figure out how to say 'please' sooner or later."

"I wasn't talking about him. I meant this whole plan.

Maybe we should just find a motel for him to stay in where we know he'll
be safe." Ashe shrugged. "What? And miss all this?" She laughed. "It is
entertaining, but I have to admit, I was pretty damned scared when you
didn't come back on time."

"We can't afford to baby-sit Jace while RESCUE falls apart. At least
this way, while we're watching him, there's a slim chance we might catch
whoever's trying to run us out of business."

"Do you think it's the same people who framed Nathan?" she asked as she
handed him a bowl of chili.

Sitting down, Ashe said, "I honestly don't know. Hopefully, when I check
in with Sherrie tomorrow, she'll have some good news. You know, I still
don't really understand why she came, much less why she hasn't gone back
to New York yet, especially now that Nathan's been extradited to
Nevada." Rae walked behind him and rubbed his shoulders. "Sometimes
people don't realize how much they care about someone until it dawns on
them they might never see them again. I think she finally realized her
priorities were a little screwed up."

"More intuition?"

"Nope. Common sense. Plus, I have firsthand experience with that damned
biological clock ticking away, not to mention regrets about not saying
things before it's too late." She paused, then added, "It certainly got
quiet, didn't it?" They both listened. Finally, they barely heard Jace
say, "Would you please help me out of this tree?" Ashe sat his chili
down and jumped up, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled Rae into his
arms. Taking his time, he kissed her, holding her tightly against him in
spite of Jace's groans floating past them on the wind. Finally he
whispered, "Come on, we've got to rescue him from himself.

Again." Walters awoke Saturday morning refreshed and invigorated.

It had been a long time since he had slept so deeply.

He felt certain his restful night was a sign his times of trouble were
finally a thing of the past. After a quick shower and a light breakfast,
he loaded the Land Cruiser and headed north, intent on making it to
Oklahoma well before sunset.

It saddened him to think that it would probably be the last time he used
his lethal toys, but the thought of watching Jace Williams die revived
his spirits.

Along the way, he used his cell phone to call Corbin White on the
private number she had given him. "Did Ross take the bait?" he asked,
not bothering to identify himself or disguise his voice.

"I'm meeting with him this afternoon. When I mentioned I had discussed
my options with a certain professor at the University of California
before his untimely death, he was all ears."

"Where are you meeting?"

"I insisted on a neutral place. We're setting it up at a bar in
Stillwater, Oklahoma, called Eskimo Joe's."

"And you're certain he's personally coming?" "He said he would. I'm
working on finding a picture of him so I'll know if he's the real thing
when he shows up."

"Does he understand you won't have the plans with you?"

"I told him they were in safekeeping until I decided what options I
cared to pursue."

"Good. You'll be safer that way."

"Two of our cameramen will be discreetly watching. If he tries anything
funny, they'll be all over him."

"Then I'll get back to you on Monday. If you have the videotape, I'll
provide the rest of the documentation."

"Wait! Don't hang up."

"Why?"

"I want you to know how much I appreciate this. It could be the story of
the year. I'd like to meet you someday." He hung up, laughing out loud
at the irony. No woman had given him a second look in years, and now one
of the top reporters in the nation was coming on to him just days before
he had to leave the country for the rest of his life.

In New York, Corbin hung up the phone and turned around. One of the FBI
agents sitting behind her listened intently to his partner on his
headset, then smiled. He patted her shoulder and said, "I know you were
having second thoughts about contacting us, but you did the right thing.

If it makes you feel any better, this is the lead we've been searching
for. It's the same man who was tied to the car theft in California,
where the murder weapon was found."

"Right," she grumbled as visions of another awardwinning story faded
before her eyes. Glancing at the outline of Petroco's purportedly
devious undertakings the mystery man had faxed her, her stomach knotted
as tightly as it had the first time she read the sixth entry: Petroco
made extensive cash payments to Sen. Evans and Sen. Giles to induce them
to sponsor the controversial bill currently before Congress. The
corporation is, therefore, indirectly accountable for their untimely
deaths.

Corbin glanced at her watch and laid down the fax. Standing up, she
said, "If I'm going to be in Stillwater by this afternoon, I've got to
catch a plane."

"We'd prefer you let one of our people handle this." Smirking, Corbin
said, "No way! We had a deal, remember?" Shaking his head, he said,
"We'll still have agents there to meet you." Corbin was becoming
agitated. "I don't think that's a great idea. You might blow my cover,
and then I won't have anything to show for all this. After all, what the
head of Petroco is doing isn't illegal. Is it?"

"No, but the person you just talked to might be nearby.

We don't want to miss our chance to nail him."

"Fine, but stay outside. Deal?"

"You still don't understand what caliber of person you're dealing with,
Ms. White. Let's suppose he is watching, and he doesn't care for the way
your little meeting is going.

He's more than capable of killing everyone in the place without batting
an eye. Is that the kind of risk you're willing to take?" Corbin glared
at him, then finally said. "One. One agent inside the bar. But that's
all, okay?"

"Okay." She tossed her oversize handbag over her shoulder and walked
briskly out of the room.

As soon as they were certain she was gone, the two men burst into
laughter. They both knew Eskimo Joe's would be crawling with so many FBI
agents by five o'clock that afternoon, there wouldn't be room for any of
its regular customers.

Neither of them had any intention of telling Corbin White. After all, it
was for her own good.

"I thought I was the only one crazy enough to work on a Saturday
morning," Sherrie said.

Brada smiled. "A few weeks ago you'd have run into half the office. Now
it looks like I'm the only one here. It's pathetic."

"What are you working on?"

"The real question is, what aren't I working on?" Sherrie walked around
Brada's desk, leaning over the papers. "You're reviewing a financing
agreement?" Brada nodded. "We've got a Solar project ready to go.

It'll run ten to twelve million. Dinell asked me to look over the
paperwork."

"Does Nathan know about this?"

"Of course he does. It's been in the planning stages for almost four
years." Sherrie nodded, then picked up an airline ticket from the corner
of Brada's desk. "Are you leaving town, too?" "Nathan asked me to go to
Midland to talk to Karl Ross.

I canceled the first trip I had scheduled, but I decided Nathan was
probably right. It wouldn't hurt to lean on Ross a little. He has more
motive than anyone else on the face of the earth." Sherrie started to
open the ticket. "When are you leaving?" Brada snatched it, stuffing it
in her purse as she curtly answered, "In a couple of hours."
Skeptically, Sherrie asked, "You've arranged to meet him on the
weekend?" She nodded. "It was the only time he would agree to see me.
Believe it or not, RESCUE employees don't exactly have the red carpet
rolled out for them at Petroco."

"That's not surprising." Brada closed the file she had been studying.
Standing, she said, "If you'll excuse me, I need to see if I can find
the files that list which assets we can post as collateral." Sherrie
nodded as she backed out of Brada's office. "Well, have a good trip."
When Sherrie was out of Brada's sight, she practically ran back to the
executive suite. Flying through the door to the reception area, she was
shocked to see Dinell coming out of Nathan's office.

"My goodness, you almost scared me half to death. Why are you in such a
hurry?" Dinell asked nervously.

"I've just ...  got a lot to do. What are you doing here?" Dinell sat at
her desk. "I'm wrapping up a few things before I leave. I decided to be
tested to see if my tissue type matches my sister. My flight leaves at
noon."

"I think you made the right choice. Where are you going to have the
tests run?"

"Oklahoma City."

"Really? I didn't know they had high-tech medical facilities there.
Usually you hear of people going to the Mayo or to Houston. Can't they
test you here?" Dinell shrugged. "I guess not. Besides, my sister wants
to see me." Sherrie started to back into Nathan's office, physically
withdrawing from the strain of continuing the tense conversation.

"When will you be back?" Dinell grimaced. "Whenever it's finished. I'm
afraid this could get complicated." She grabbed her purse and headed out
the door. "I'll call you when it's over."

"Good luck," Sherrie replied. Once she was certain Dinell was gone, she
rushed inside Nathan's office and locked the door. She pushed the button
on his desk, turning the walls opaque, and she sighed. Her anxiety was
apparent as she tried to dial the phone, her hand visibly shaking. All
she heard was the roar of equipment. "Ashe? Can you hear me?" she
yelled.

"Not very well. The 'dozer's making a lot of noise. Let me walk to the
top of the hill." After a couple of seconds he asked, "Is this any
better?"

"Much."

"Sorry, but you'll have to speak up." Loudly, Sherrie said, "I did what
you asked, and things are more confusing now than ever."

"Are either one of them leaving town?"

"That's the problem. They both are."

"Interesting. Did you find out where they were going?"

"Brada says she's leaving for Midland to see Ross. Dinell says she's
headed for Oklahoma City for medical tests."

"Shit! Both of those are close enough to here to be trouble." Sherrie
sighed. "How could I find out more about the new Solar project?"

"There isn't a new Solar project."

"Are you sure? It's supposedly going to cost ten to twelve million
dollars."

"What?" he screamed.

"Brada was working on the financing for what she called 'the new Solar
project." She said Dinell asked her to review the paperwork."

"Are you sure? We haven't used outside financing since Nathan's mother
died. Last I heard, Nathan still had several million left." Sherrie
said, "I know. That's why it struck me as odd."

"Can you get your hands on the papers Brada was working with?"

"I can try, but last time I saw the files, she had them with her." Ashe
warned, "Don't take any risks, just in case."

"Is there anything else I can do?" Sherrie asked.

"Nothing I can think of right now." Sherrie paused, then asked, "Ashe,
does all this look as bad as I think it does?" "No," he said. "It looks
worse." Sherrie hung up (he phone and laid her head on the desk,
momentarily surrendering to her fierce headache. If the walls to
Nathan's office had been transparent, she might have caught a glimpse of
the woman who had listened to her conversation and was quietly slipping
out the door.

"What's going on?" Rae asked, thankful the 'dozer was finally gone and
the countryside was once again peaceful.

Ashe shook his head and answered, "More than I expected.

We need to hurry. The tents and traps have to be set before this
evening."

"Why the rush? I thought we'd at least have a few days." He hesitated,
then said, "I'm beginning to think you were right. Our problem probably
is someone at RESCUE.

Someone knowledgeable enough to feed Harvey Walters information." Rae
was quiet, then said softly, "So do I." He touched her chin, turning her
face toward his. "Next time you have doubts, feel free to hit me over
the head to get my attention. I should have listened to you before." She
shrugged, her eyes cast down. "I didn't want to press the issue.
Besides, I wanted to watch what was going on without anyone knowing."

"And what conclusions did you come to?"

"Brada and Dinell both had access to the information about Marilyn, her
mother, when we would resume drilling at the HER site again, the
diskette that was erased ... They were both filmed carrying large bags
into RESCUE the day before Kelmar's murder ...  Both are very bright,
quite capable of devising a way to get Nathan out of the way for a while
if they wanted to ..."

"So they can bankrupt RESCUE? Do you think they're working together?" he
asked.

"Maybe, but why? Why would they want to hurt RESCUE?

What could either of them possibly have to gain?" Ashe was quiet, then
said, "Could be money. Petroco would probably pay a small fortune to
make sure we disappeared." He shook his head, "But I don't believe
either of them would stoop to murdering people just to make money." Rae
watched Jace working diligently in the bed of the pickup at the foot of
the small hill where they stood. "Thank God you didn't tell anyone where
we're really staying," she said.

"No kidding. I'm beginning to regret pulling Jace into all this. He had
enough problems without getting sucked into rescue's mess."

"Look at him, though. He's really quite talented. Those traps he's
working on are ingenious, very clever. I'm amazed at his knowledge of
electronics."

"He's probably had his share of exposure," Ashe said.

"He told me he learned most of it in school."

"You're so naive about some things, Rae. He's street wise. Hot-wiring
cars, drug deals  ..."

"What do drug deals have to do with electronics?"

"I doubt if Jace came up with the booby-trap idea by himself. More than
likely he found out on the Internet how drug dealers protect their
marijuana fields. But their traps are a lot more lethal than the ones
we're going to use."

"Lethal?" He looked up, then to the side. Finally, his eyes met hers as
he explained, "I don't want to upset you, but they usually wire them
with explosives. Protecting their crop, so to speak." Rae didn't
respond; she merely shook her head in disbelief.

Ashe continued, "I do agree with you, Jace has a lot of potential. He's
mechanically inclined, and sharp enough to do anything he wants to in
life. The problem is convincing him of that." "He politely asked if he
could have more cereal for breakfast this morning. And he didn't
complain once about coming with us to help. I think we may actually be
getting through to him."

"I hope so. Speaking of helping, we have a lot of work to do. We'd
better get busy, so we can wrap this up in time to go into town and rent
another truck." "What do you want me to do?" she asked.

He tossed her a roll of garbage sacks. "Fill these with leaves and
sticks. I'll need you to help set up the tents in a few minutes." Rae
headed into the woods, then turned back around.

"Ashe, be careful," she called, her brow furrowed.

Stopping, he saw the unmistakable look of warning in her eyes. Shaking
his head, he muttered, "Oh, no. Here we go again." Sherrie waited inside
Nathan's office for over an hour, then dialed Brada's extension. When
there was no answer, she slipped out, feeling like a criminal as she
crept silently through the empty halls. The door to Brada's office was
locked, so she used Nathan's magnetic key card to open it.

After she slid inside the office, the door closed behind her and she
felt the lock engage again. She wasn't surprised to find the top of the
desk cleared, all the papers and files that usually cluttered the
surface removed.

Sherrie sat in Brada's chair, rolling out each drawer to check for the
Solar project file she had seen. It wasn't in the desk, so she tried the
file cabinet. With her nerves on edge, she quickly checked all the
hiding places she could think of, then left.

Back in Nathan's office, she gathered her things and locked his door as
she prepared to leave. After peeking out of the reception area to be
certain she was alone, she conducted a similar search of Dinell's desk
and file cabinets.

When nothing unusual turned up, relief washed over her. Toting her
briefcase and purse, she walked down the hall, her step much lighter
than it had been only minutes ago.

Bounding down the first flight of stairs, she held the banister as she
rounded the corner. Sherrie never saw the ultra-thin metal wire
stretched four inches above the second step of the next flight. She did,
however, feel it catch the toe of her shoe.

As she painfully crashed head over heels down the marble staircase,
Sherrie would have sworn she heard footsteps and laughter echoing all
around her. The instant before she lost consciousness, she looked up to
see a woman peering down at her from the rail upstairs.

"Why?" Sherrie whispered just before she drifted into a silent, black
void.

Ross chose to drive from Midland to Stillwater, hoping the long hours
alone in the car would help him decide how to handle things. He knew
Kelmar had never actually participated in the purchases, yet he had not
had enough time yet to develop the underground contacts necessary to
find trustworthy outside parties to perform the services.

Since the phone call yesterday, his stomach had been on fire. Reaching
for the bottle of antacid beside him, he chugged another dose. Taking a
deep breath, he convinced himself that he was capable of handling any
situation.

He wanted to believe today's meeting would be the beginning of a new
reign--his. It had to be. With the professor dead, Ross knew that a new
network would have to be established, and this was his chance to start
the ball rolling in the right direction.

But one thing would change. Unlike Kelmar, as soon as this woman's
battery design was in his hands, she would immediately become an
unnecessary liability. In the long run, killing such people would be
much cheaper than paying them off.


Chapter 16.


Even though it was mid-autumn, by early afternoon both Ashe and Jace had
shed their shirts. The wind had died, and the sun was warm on their
backs as they worked, first wiring the area, then raking the leaves and
sticks Rae had collected into a convincing pattern over the freshly
cleared dirt.

When they heard Rae calling from over the hill to the north, they both
dropped their rakes and ran. "What is it?" Ashe called as they reached
the crest of the small incline.

"Come see!" she shouted.

Jace rolled his eyes, plodding apathetically toward her.

Ashe followed. After hiking several hundred yards, they came to a small
clearing next to a pond. Rae was sitting on a blanket, a picnic spread
before her. "Anyone hungry?" she asked.

For the first time that day they ate, stuffing themselves with peanut
butter and jelly sandwiches, chips, and Oreos.

Relaxing, Jace lay back on the sun-warmed blanket and said, "This ain't
half bad." Rae asked, "What isn't bad?"

"Working outside. Fresh air. I never knew it could be so quiet
anywhere."

"Have you ever thought about what you want to do with your life?" Ashe
asked.

Jace shook his head. "I never thought past tomorrow. You learn that real
young when every day is a disappointment."

"Maybe it's time to think about it. RESCUE is always looking for bright
young minds." Jace glared at Ashe as though he were crazy. "So?" Rae
said, "You can do whatever you want, Jace. It just takes hard work."

"Maybe I don't like hard work." Ashe laughed. "You weren't complaining a
minute ago.

In fact, I think you've had a very productive morning."

"Maybe, but I wasn't learning things outta books."

"There are lots of ways to learn, Jace. The key is, you have to be
willing to try." Back at the freshly cleared site, a few hundred yards
to the south, the cell phone in Ashes shirt pocket rang, and rang,
until finally the last of the battery's power was gone.

Ross walked into Eskimo Joe's and glanced around. He ordered a beer at
the bar, then scrutinized his surroundings.

It was obvious some of the people in the bar were college kids, ready to
get a head start on their Saturday night partying.

An equal number of people inside the bar were older men, possibly local
professors or businessmen.

The woman he was meeting had told him she would find him, so he wandered
awhile, then chose a table away from the late-afternoon crowd. It wasn't
long before a blonde with thick glasses and a ponytail approached him.
"Mr. Ross?" she asked.

He stood and shook her hand. "You must be a friend of the late
professor. It was truly a tragedy, his heart attack at such a young
age." Shaking her head slowly, she agreed. "It really was a shock."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. It's nice to meet you, Ms ....  ?"

"Black."

"Can I get you a beer, Ms. Black?"

"No, thanks. I'd prefer we get this over with as soon as possible. I
need to catch another flight this afternoon." Glancing around, he said,
"Why did you choose this place? Wouldn't somewhere in California have
been more convenient for you?"

"No. I'm not attending school there anymore. Besides, I thought a
college town bar would be an inconspicuous place for us to make our
arrangement. I'm sure they're used to professors meeting students here."
Looking around, he nodded in agreement.

Wringing her hands, she asked, "Listen, this whole thing makes me
nervous, so can we just get down to business?" Ross nodded again. "What
exactly did the professor tell you?"

"He said your organization was interested in purchasing the rights to
cutting-edge technological advancements, especially those that reduce
the consumption of our world's natural resources. He also said you would
be willing to pay handsomely for them."

"That's true."

"I was wondering, since my design is for a lightweight, rechargeable
battery, what interest would a petroleum company have with it?"

"What makes you think I represent a petroleum company?"

"Mr. Ross, I'm neither stupid nor blind. I know you are president of
Petroco, one of the biggest oil companies in the world. And I know what
kind of--let's call them-- 'ideas' you've purchased in the past." Ross
tried to appear calm. "Really?" Rolling her eyes, Corbin said, "Does
Triplate ring a bell?" Ross froze. After several seconds he stared at
her and said, "The professor was not at liberty to discuss such
transactions with anyone. I'd like you to forget you ever heard such a
thing." She held up her hands. "Okay. He was just trying to convince me
to talk to you. When will you start marketing my battery if we come to a
mutually beneficial understanding?"

"Although we try to incorporate the technology we purchase into our
current products and systems, it isn't always immediately feasible.
Plus, many of the designs we purchase are utilized behind the scenes to
reduce consumer costs. The general public benefits but indirectly. Even
if we can't currently put your battery design to use, rest assured, we
are still very interested in purchasing your work." Corbin hesitated,
then asked, "Let me get this straight.

You're not going to use the battery I designed right now, but you still
want it?" She acted puzzled. "I guess I'm kind of naive, but could you
tell me why?"

"Our main interest is to have control of the product, for sometime in
the future." Corbin nodded. "I see. Like a kid who wants to hoard all
the newest toys for himself?" Ross shook his head. "Not at all. We want
to test and develop the product so that when the proper time comes to
market it, it will be ready."

"How much are you willing to pay?"

"That depends. Our rates are negotiable, depending on the report our
engineers give your work."

"Let's talk ballpark here. Two thousand? Ten thousand?

Ten million?" Ross laughed. "Somewhere between the last two figures.

We'll guarantee ten thousand, just for your time and trouble to this
point. Then, based on what our estimate of your invention's prospects
are, we'll arrange for a generous monthly stipend. Of course, everything
we do is strictly confidential."

"Why?" Glaring at her as though she were a moron, he explained, "Because
it has to be. If word were to get out that we pay so much for 'ideas,"
as you call them, we would be swamped with inventions from every nut
around the world. We work through a very exclusive network of
professors, only on recommendation, thus minimizing our exposure."

"And what happens if I change my mind after we come to an agreement?"

"Our deals are final. We commit our resources, and we expect you to
commit yours." She laughed. "No refunds, no exchanges?" Ross was not
amused. He stood and said, "I believe this conversation is over."

"No! Please sit down. I was just kidding. My friends tell me I have a
weird sense of humor. I'm sorry." He hesitated, then sat back down. "Did
you bring your work?"

"No. I wanted to be sure you were legitimate before I risked losing it."
Ross acted insulted. "Why would our meeting risk you losing your work?"

"For all I know, you could grab my research, then knock me off as soon
as I walked out the door. Like I told you, I'm not careless." Ross took
several deep breaths, trying to think. From his aching head to his
knotted stomach, he sensed this girl was trouble. "So what exactly do
you want from me? Surely you don't expect to be paid before we test your
designs?

What if they're worthless?"

"No, I don't expect money at this point. I just want some sort of proof
of your good faith."

"Such as?"

"Such as the name of someone else you've dealt with.

Someone I can contact and find out if you really came through on your
end of the bargain. Like maybe the person who designed Triplate?" Ross
stood, then angrily said, "That is not possible! In fact, this whole
arrangement will not work. We're obviously wasting each other's time."
Without looking at her again, he stormed out of the bar.

Corbin pulled off her glasses and smiled directly at the camera. * * *
Rae sat in the trees on the side of the road, well outside the newly
cleared site. She held the two-way radio in her hand, listening for the
signal. Even though she was expecting it, she still jumped when she
heard Ashes voice, indicating he and Jace were ready for her to test
what they had painstakingly worked on all day.

Rae stood, brushing moist soil from the seat of her blue jeans as she
stepped forward. Although she knew exactly where to look for the clear
fishing line that would trigger the perimeter alarm, she had a hard time
seeing it in the waning light of day. Almost imperceptibly, it caught
her foot as she crossed it, and she was certain it wouldn't alert an
unsuspecting intruder, or even a large animal.

A few seconds later, she heard Ashes voice on the walkie-talkie again,
and she walked into the campground. Outside the entrance to each tent
were pressure-sensitive pads, the kind commonly used under carpets in
burglar alarms. They had carefully covered the pads with thin layers of
dirt, then scattered leaves and twigs across the rest of the freshly
turned soil to hide their tracks.

"Everything's working," Ashe said. "We'll be there to get you in a
couple of minutes." Pressing the button, she responded, "Okay, but
hurry.

This place gives me the creeps." Laughing, Ashe asked, "What happened to
that logical, mature woman I hired a few weeks ago?"

"She glows in the dark from radiation exposure and has a sick feeling in
the pit of her stomach. Just hurry, okay?"

"Be right there." One last time, Rae fluffed the sleeping bags stuffed
with leaves to make them look occupied, then ran from the tent to the
extra pickup they had rented that afternoon. The temperature was falling
as fast as the sun, and she shivered as she hopped inside the cab. After
locking the doors, she took a deep, calming breath, mentally scolding
herself for allowing her gnawing fear to overwhelm her logic.

By the time Ashe arrived, she had calmed down. They were leaving the
spare pickup at the new site, under the assumption that no one would
believe anyone was actually staying there without transportation.
"Where's Jace?" she asked as she hopped out and locked the door.

"He wanted to lie down. I figured he deserved a rest after the day he
put in."

"Intense, wasn't he?" Rae said.

"It's been a long time since I saw anyone as proud as he was when you
triggered those alarms a few minutes ago."

"With good cause. He worked hard, and I think he earned something very
important."

"What's that?"

"Self-respect. Maybe now he'll decide he does have a chance to make
something of his life."

"Let's hope so." They climbed into the other pickup, and Ashe started
down the bumpy road. Rae shivered, the fear grabbing her again, this
time with a vengeance.

Ashe pulled her close. "Are you okay?" She snuggled against him.
"Physically, I'm fine. Mentally, I just can't shake this feeling that
something terrible is going to happen. Soon." On the crest of a hill a
quarter mile north of the new site, Walters dropped his night-vision
binoculars to his side and smiled. Although lightly disappointed that
Williams apparently wasn't staying with them at the site, he knew he was
getting close. Very close.

Dinell's flight landed in Amarillo, Texas, a little after three o'clock
that afternoon. With a Texas map in one hand and an Oklahoma map in the
other, she pointed the rented Jeep Cherokee due east and drove like a
madwoman until it was too dark to read the maps any longer. Pulling into
the first gas station she saw in Elk City, Oklahoma, she filled the gas
tank and ran inside.

"Excuse me, but I'd like to know how to get to this location." She
showed the cashier the aerial photograph, complete with the legal
description of the acreage.

He was an older man, with a huge pot belly and a stubbly beard, which he
scratched as he studied the picture. "If this ain't the damedest thing.
No one's cared a flip about that hunk of land for years, and now twice
in one day someone's asked about it." Her stomach turned, but she
managed to ask calmly, "Is it hard to find?" Glancing out the window, he
replied, "Not really. But the roads out that way are a mess, especially
if you're going in from the south. Those are mostly oil-lease roads, and
since that land's full of dry holes, they ain't been used much lately."
Nodding at her Cherokee, he asked, "That thing got four-wheel drive?"
Dinell shrugged. "I guess so. It's a rental." His yellow teeth showed as
he snidely said, "Really. I'd have never guessed." She was getting
impatient. "Would you mind telling me how to get there?"

"Just head north on Route 34. When you pass the red barn on the east
side of the road, turn west. Follow that about three-quarters of a mile
until the road dead-ends. You can get in either way, but it's easiest to
follow the road around and come in from the north. I'll warn you, all
the gates on that property are supposed to be locked."

"Then how do I get in?" she asked, exhausted.

"Depends on where you're going. It's a big hunk of land, mostly
overgrown. I used to coon hunt out there, back when they kept the place
up. Guess you could hike, if you don't have too far to go. But if I were
you, I'd wait until tomorrow.

There's a storm blowing in from the north. Might get some sleet before
the night's over. Could be pretty nasty." She was wringing her hands,
her eyes nervously darting around. After grabbing a sandwich and two
bags of Sugar Babies, she paid for everything and rushed out.

He called after her, "If you don't mind my asking, what're you planning
to do out there?" Over her shoulder she yelled, "Meet someone." But
under her breath she added, ""Kill someone' would probably be more
accurate." When Ashe and Rae arrived at the campsite, Jace was sound
asleep in his pup tent, still wearing his coveralls and boots.

"Should we wake him for supper?" Rae asked.

"I don't think he'll starve. Besides, missing our gourmet hot dogs and
canned pork and beans is probably better for him than eating them."

"We'll be more creative with our menu when we go into town in the
morning. Can we make a camp fire, or do you think that would draw too
much attention to us?"

"Sorry, I don't think it would be a good idea. The wind's really
starting to come up, and the fields are still pretty dry.

Hopefully, we'll be able to make it to town in the morning like we
planned." Rae's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I heard on the radio that the weather service has issued a
winter weather advisory for tonight. The roads may be pretty hazardous
by morning. I wish my cell phone wasn't dead." Rae smiled and snuggled
into his embrace.

He kissed her, then rested his head atop hers. "I'll never figure you
out. You like the idea of being stranded out here?"

"No. But I like the idea of everyone else being stranded somewhere
besides here." Once Walters was sure they were gone, he circled wide to
the road Ashe and Rae had driven out on. In a matter of seconds he had
disabled the pickup they left behind, then scurried back into hiding,
since he was uncertain how long they would be gone. Fighting the frigid
wind, he backtracked in his own footsteps until he reached the north
gate of the land. From there he stayed on the dirt road, hiking back to
the Land Cruiser. The black ATV blended so well into the trees where he
had backed it off the road, he walked past it the first time.

Working without light, he shifted part of his gear into the two front
seats, clearing a narrow place behind the seats to sleep. After
unrolling his sleeping bag, he took off his boots and climbed into the
warmth of the snug, down-filled fabric. He wasn't sure how long he
stared at the dark ceiling, plotting ways to find out what hole Williams
had managed to crawl into this time.

Jace's absence certainly complicated his plans simply to kill Ashe
Freeman and the unlucky woman who was with him, since they were probably
the only people who knew where the little bastard was hiding. Finally,
he developed several alternative solutions, and fell asleep looking
forward to the challenge of tomorrow.

The sound of gravel crunching under tires abruptly aroused him from a
dead sleep. Resisting the urge to bolt upright, he rolled to one side,
then crawled to look over the top of the front passenger seat. Sometime
in the last few hours a light mist had begun to fall, and the
temperatures had plummeted. The windshield was covered with a thin sheet
of ice, and his breath fogged as it escaped through clenched teeth.

Although his view was blurred, he could tell it was a red Jeep Cherokee
crawling along the bumpy road. When it was out of sight, he pulled on
his boots, then climbed out of the truck. Tiny ice pellets were pinging
off the car, stirring the leaves, blanketing the land. Rummaging through
his bags, he finally found his winter gear and several of his deadly
toys.

Once he was completely outfitted, he began his hike. The gate to the
land where he had briefly seen the RESCUE workers was only a quarter
mile ahead. Following the Cherokee's tire tracks made his job easy, in
spite of the weather.

In fact, he enjoyed the challenge. Fighting the elements made his tasks
more interesting, adding a degree of unpredictability that he frequently
used to his advantage.

Trudging along, he knew his luck had definitely changed.

This time the odds were all in his favor.

When Dinell reached the gate described by the disgusting man at the gas
station, she was so tired she knew she couldn't hike far. What should
have taken minutes to find had actually taken hours, since she got lost
several times and the weather had turned bad.

In her hand she held one of the good things her roundabout way of
finding the place had provided--a pair of wire cutters she purchased at
a hardware store in a little town called Clinton. She'd also purchased
gloves, a knit ski mask, coveralls, insulated hiking boots, an ice
scraper, and the most lethal things she could find--a lightweight
hatchet and a hunting knife.

Awkwardly, Dinell pulled the warmer clothing over the things she already
wore. Although she'd been driving in the freezing rain for over an hour,
she was still shocked by the blast of cold air and the tiny ice pellets
striking her face when she opened the car door. She was immediately
grateful for the extra layer of clothing as she pulled the ski mask to
cover her chilled face. Climbing out, she ran to the gate, quickly
scanning the area illuminated by the halo of the Cherokee's headlights.

A culvert ran along the entrance, leaving two-foot-deep channels in the
dirt in front of the fence line. Choosing the flatter of the two sides,
Dinell hurried toward the barbed wire. The brand-new boots didn't grip
the slick grass as well as she expected, and she slid precariously down
the slight incline, her face stopping inches from the dangerous fence
line.

Sitting up, she caught her breath, trying to relax. Using wire cutters
for the first time in her life, she barely managed to snip the taut
bottom wire. When the wire suddenly popped, each end instantly curled
toward a fence post, shocking Dinell so much she lost her balance and
tumbled back into the ditch. She stayed there for a few seconds,
regaining her strength, her nerve. Working quickly in the cold, she
snapped the other two wires and climbed back into the Cherokee.

After warming herself on the car's heater vents, she backed up and drove
slowly through the brand-new opening.

Once inside, she maneuvered back to the dirt road and stopped again,
using the aerial photograph to locate exactly where she thought she was.
Besides the problems darkness brought, the picture was several years
old, taken when RESCUE had initially evaluated the site. What little she
could see looked totally different than what she expected.

According to the map, she needed to drive south for a half mile. The oil
well itself was only a few acres south of a small pond. The road built
by the oil company to access the actual site came in from the other side
of the pond and ended at the wellhead. She knew she could drive most of
the way, but she would have to hike around the pond to get to the actual
site.

Looking at the grim, rough country awaiting her, she wondered if she had
lost her mind. But deep down she knew she had no choice.

Walters watched the woman struggle with the wire cutters, almost
laughing aloud when she tumbled backward the second time. He was too far
away to see who it was, but he had a feeling it was his friend from
RESCUE. Maybe she was having second thoughts about telling him to kill
two of her co-workers, or maybe she wanted to help carry out the plan.
Either way, coming here was a fatal mistake on her part.

Even though she drove most of the way to the pond, he had no trouble
keeping up with her on foot. He had the advantage of knowing where she
was going, so he took a shorter route, cutting through the woods.
Ironically, she had taxed him the aerial map of the site, making his job
infinitely easier. When he neared the edge of the treeline, he could see
the pond in the clearing. He wasn't surprised to find the Cherokee
parked beside it. Pulling out his nightvision binoculars, he was shocked
to see she bad already made it halfway around the pond. Maybe she's more
competent than I thought.

Stepping up his pace, he maneuvered as silently as he could through the
crunching, frozen brush underfoot. He was torn between stopping her
before she had a chance to warn them, and watching to see if, instead,
she was there to make sure they never told anyone what they knew. Even
though she appeared to have planned her attack, he doubted if she was
capable of handling both of them. Unless, of course, she was well
equipped.

The thought of her being armed unexpectedly disturbed him. Over the
years he had grown to respect her shrewd tactics, sometimes even relying
upon them. He suddenly realized that in many ways they were alike. If
she was here to kill them, she probably intended to kill him as well.
The bitch wouldn't be happy until every link to her was severed.

Forever.


Chapter 17.


At the real campsite, Ashe, Rae, and Jace were burrowed into their
sleeping Sags, resting peacefully. Even though it was sleeting, the
inside of each small pup tent was dry and comfortable. To prepare for
the storm, they had moved the tents into a circle, the openings turned
inside. The camp stove and some of their supplies were covered with a
blue tarp in the center of their makeshift wind block. Everything else
had been packed into the toolbox attached to the bed of the pickup.

When the alarm sounded, for several seconds no one moved. Each thought
they were imagining the sound, that they could bury their heads even
deeper in the warm covers and it would fade away like a bad dream. But
it didn't.

Jace was the first to react. "It worked!" Several seconds later, as
reality sunk in, he said, "Shit! Now what do we do?" Ashe groggily
answered, "Maybe it's the weather." He poked his head out of his tent
and added, "Everything's covered with ice. Could the extra weight
trigger either one of the alarms?" Jace replied, "No way. The fishing
line has to have at least a ten-pound pull, and those pads require
twenty-five pounds of pressure." Rae stuck her head out of her tent,
tiredly muttering, "Then we'd better get dressed." Jace snapped, "It's
probably that damned bull."

"You know  ...  it could be," Rae said as she pulled on her boots.

Ashe was busy dressing. "I don't think we can take that chance, do you?"
No one answered.

"That's what I thought. I'll go and check. You two stay here." Rae
stopped and stuck her head out. "But, Ashe, what if it's  ...  It could
be, you know  ...  You'll need someone to back you up."

"First of all, the chances of this being who we thought it might be are
slim to none. Why would anyone at Petroco give a damn at this point?
Second, I don't think we should risk exposing Jace to anyone" Jace
shouted, "Do you two think I'm deaf? Quit talking 'bout me like I ain't
here. If it is him, I don't wanna be anywhere near that place. I'm
staying here!" Ashe snapped, "Fine!" Rae came out other tent. "Then
you'll have to stay here alone, Jace. I'm going with Ashe."

"Good. Go. Get the hell out of here. I'm going back to sleep." Rae
snickered. "What are you going to do if that bull comes back?" Jace
didn't answer; he only grunted and zipped the door to his tent closed.

Rae walked over, unzipping an opening big enough to stuff in one of the
walkie-talkies. "Keep this by you just in case," she said.

"Right," he mumbled.

Ashe said, "It'll probably take us awhile in this ice. Do you want us to
check in with you?"

"Can't hear you, I'm already sleeping," Jace shouted.

Rae said, "Fine. We'll try not to disturb you when we get back." After
Ashe and Rae climbed into the pickup, she said, "I see Jace is back to
his old self."

"Makes you wonder why we bothered, doesn't it?"

"Yep. I don't suppose we have an ice scraper?" Ashe dug through the
glove compartment and said, "Ut course not. No spare tire, no ice
scraper. That rental agency is going to hear about this." He started the
engine and turned on the defroster. "At this rate, by the time we get
there, whoever or whatever triggered the alarm will be long gone."

"Let's hope so." Dinell didn't feel the fishing line tug against the toe
of her hiking boot as she crept through the woods surrounding the well
site. She was too busy trying not to make a sound. Everyone at RESCUE
had heard the stories of the night of Andy's murder, complete with
details of the gun Rae carried.

She knew the reason they were camping in the middle of nowhere was to
hide Jace. It was only logical that they would be prepared for trouble.
Dinell slumped against a tree, too tired to think clearly. They might
shoot her if she just walked unexpectedly into their camp in the middle
of the night.

Laying her head on her knees, she wished it were daylight.

At least she could announce her presence and gain their trust, if they
could see her. It was awfully cold, but maybe it would be best to wait
till daybreak.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she heard two noises.
One was behind her in the woods, the faint snap of a twig. The other was
the sound of a vehicle cautiously approaching. As its headlights
illuminated the two tents, Dinell shifted behind the tree where she
couldn't be seen.

The deep holes in the dirt road were hard to navigate when they were
dry, and even harder when covered with a thin layer of ice. By the time
they made it to the well site, both Ashe and Rae were worried they
wouldn't be able to make it back out.

"You see anything?" Rae asked.

"Nope," Ashe answered. "I'll go check the line." Rae pulled the gun out
of her pocket and handed it to him. "Take this with you. And please  ...
be careful!" He hesitated, then answered, "I'll leave the truck running.

Lock the doors. If there's any trouble, you get the hell out of here.
Understand?" Touching his cheek, she hugged him. "Be careful, just in
case." He hopped out, adding, "I'll be right back." Rae pushed the
automatic door locks and sat in the truck, nervously clutching the
walkie-talkie. She watched as Ashe found the tree alongside the road
where they had rigged the alarm. He disappeared into the brush, creeping
along with his hand cupped around the line.

If she strained her eyes, the truck's headlights allowed Rae to spot
Ashe, crouched above the alarm line, and she relaxed a little. Seconds
later, sheer terror ignited every nerve in her body when she heard a
gunshot.

Ashes thighs were beginning to ache as he inched along, his right hand
on the gun, his left cupped around the clear fishing line. In the light
from the pickup, he watched for any sign of an animal recently crossing,
even though he had already decided they were on a wild-goose chase.

When he saw the figure of a person dart from behind a tree directly in
front of him, he jumped so violently the gun fired into the dirt.
"Shit!" he muttered. He climbed awkwardly to his feet. Making his way
through the woods, he plowed over small trees and around large ones, his
only goal to catch whoever was running away from him.

The person dressed from head to toe in coveralls emerged from the woods,
running at top speed toward the opposite side of the site. As Ashe
crashed out of the bushes in chase, he heard Rae slam the pickup into
drive. The entire time he ran, he knew she was following.

By the time they reached the top of the incline, his legs were burning.
Below, the glow of the headlights allowed him to see the figure cutting
in and out of the brush.

The added light was all he need to finally catch the person he'd been
chasing. From behind he tackled the darkly clad figure. The two of them
rolled down the pond dam before crashing into the icy water below.

Walters was several hundred yards away, watching as much as he could
with his night-vision binoculars. Although he lost sight of them when
they crested the hill by the pond, he quickly slipped back through the
woods until he found a spot where he could see them again.

He found the entire scene absolutely entertaining. Sliding his gun out
of its shoulder holster, he checked the clip to be certain it was
loaded, and started screwing on the silencer.

Ashe gasped when they hit the cold water, but he had no intention of
letting go. Struggling, he managed to grab hold of the stocking cap at
the nape of the person's neck. Wrestling under the water, he finally
wrenched one of the person's arms behind their back. A pained cry as
they came up to gulp for air told him he had successfully overpowered
his adversary.

Literally picking the person up, Ashe waded out of the water and slammed
them down on the ground. With one knee in the middle of their back and
still twisting their wrist in his hand, he struggled to catch his
breath.

Looking up, he saw Rae sliding down the embankment toward them.

"Are you all right?" she called.

"I guess. Just once I'd like to catch someone without having to get
wet." Rae skidded to a stop next to him. "Where's the gun?" He jerked
his head toward the water.

Rae muttered, "Great." Ashe pushed the person's arm farther up their
back as he asked, "Who the hell are you?" Weakly she answered, "Dinell.
Will you let go of me now? You're hurting, my arm." Rae leaned over,
peeling back the soggy knit stocking cap from her head. "It is Dinell,"
she gasped.

Ashe looked inquisitively at Rae, then used his free hand to check
Dinell for weapons. Roughly rolling her over, he pulled a hatchet, still
in its leather case, out of her belt.

"Rae, get whatever's inside her boots." Rae did as she was told, pulling
a sheathed hunting knife out of Dinell's right sock. After Rae tucked it
into her overalls, she removed a pair of wire cutters from the left boot
and handed them to Ashe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ashe demanded.

Dinell's teeth were chattering as she answered, "I came to warn you. I
think Brada  ...  is coming here to  ...  to kill all of you." Rae
asked, "Why didn't you just call us on the phone?"

"I did! I probably called  ...  a hundred times. No one ever answered
the stupid thing!" Ashe glanced at Rae. "That could explain why my cell
phone battery went dead." He hesitated, adding, "If you're here to help,
why didn't you just tell me who you were instead of running?"

"You sh--shot at me!"

"What about the police? Aren't they answering their phones either?"

"I thought about calling them, but I don't have any real proof. Besides,
RESCUE doesn't need any more bad publicity." Ashe helped Dinell to her
feet, but was obviously still wary of her. "What about the hatchet and
knife?"

"Br--Brada's dangerous. I didn't know if I could make it here before she
did. Needed to  ...  protect myself."

"Why do you think she's so dangerous?" Rae asked.

Dinell started crying, obviously distraught. "I saw what she did to
Sherrie! It was horrible. I'd never have believed anyone could be so
devious, so cruel ..." Ashe said, "Wait. What did she do to Sherrie?"

"She rigged the staircase so she'd trip and fall." Dinell was sobbing.
"The poor thing  ...  lying there  ...  a pool of blood under her head
..."

"Is she all right?" Rae asked.

"I don't know. I went back upstairs  ...  called an ambulance, but I
knew if Brada saw me she'd kill me, too. I locked the door and watched
from a window until she drove away. By then I knew the ambulance would
be there any minute, so I tried to warn you. When you didn't answer, I
knew coming here was the only way to stop her ... I have proof in the
car. The diskette Margaret Prosser sent wasn't blank. Brada erased it.
Could we go in the tent now?

I'm  ...  freezing to death!" Ashe shook his head, not sure who or what
to believe anymore. "Okay. Lead the way." When Dinell was several yards
in front of them, Rae rushed to Ashes side, tugging on his jacket until
he stopped.

She whispered, "We can't trust her! She could be making all of this up
so we'll let our guard down."

"I know. In the morning we'll call and find out if her story about
Sherrie is true," Ashe said.

"Even if it's true, Dinell could be the one responsible. I don't think
we should take our eyes off her, much less let her know where Jace is,
just to be safe."

"Good idea. Once we get to the top of the hill, I'll watch Dinell while
you get Jace on the walkie-talkie. Tell him to ignore the alarms we're
going to set off outside the tents, and that you'll be back in a few
minutes. First thing in the morning when this storm lets up, you can
take him into town. Obviously, anywhere near here isn't a safe place for
him to be."

"What will you do the rest of the night?"

"Make sure Dinell doesn't have any more tricks for us.

There's a sleeping bag inside each tent. I'll stay here with her until
morning, then take her into town. Hopefully, we can figure out a way to
get to the bottom of this."

"What if Brada really is coming to kill us? She'd come to these tents,
too." Ashe thought for a second, then said, "Leave your walkie-talkie
with me. Once you're back at the campsite, I'll tell you when we're
inside the tents for the night. Jace can reset the alarms. If one goes
off, you can warn me with the walkie-talkie he has."

"By then they'll be too close, and now you don't have a gun. How are you
going to protect yourself?" He pulled out Dinell's hatchet. "I guess
I'll have to use this. Besides, what are the chances of anyone else
being crazy enough to come out in this kind of weather?" They had
reached the top of the hill, and Rae slid into the truck, which was
still running. She closed the door so Dinell wouldn't be able to
overhear her as she grabbed the walkie-talkie. "Jace  ...  Wake up,
Jace! Now!" After several seconds of static, he finally replied. "What?"

"We have a problem at this site, but it's under control.

Stay where you are. Ignore the alarms in front of the tents until Ashe
calls you back. Ashe is going to stay here, and I'll be back there to
stay with you in a few minutes. We'll go into town in the morning when
the roads are better and find you a place to stay." Jace was obviously
wide awake, his voice sharp as he asked, "What the hell's going on? Is
it him?"

"No, it isn't him, it's a woman we work with at RESCUE.

I'll explain everything as soon as I get back." She got out of the truck
and went to Ashes side, whispering, "Jace has been taken care of."

"Do you have another pair of coveralls back at camp?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You'd better let Dinell have those, so she doesn't freeze to death."

"What about you?" she asked.

"I'll survive," Ashe said.

Shaking her head, Rae said, "I'll bring back some dry clothes for you
from the other camp."

"No. You're going to have your hands full just making it back to camp
once on that sorry excuse for a road. Besides, we don't want her to know
how close Jace really is, just in case." Rae knew he was right, and she
was already dreading the short drive alone.

When they were near the tents, which were considerably larger than the
puptents they had at the other site, Ashe said, "I'll stay out here
while you two change." Rae went inside the tent, peeled off her
coveralls, and tossed them to Dinell, who was shaking from head to toe.

She took the hunting knife and stuck it into her own boot.

Emerging in clinging long underwear and hiking boots, she held up her
hands and said to Ashe, "Don't say a word. I know how ridiculous I
look." Admiring every curve of her figure, he shook his head.

"Actually, I think you look damn sexy." She leaned toward him, trying
not to get wet, and kissed him lightly. Rummaging through some of the
boxes in the bed of the truck, she found the shirt he had worn
yesterday, a blanket, and a flashlight. "Maybe these will help warm you
up," she said as she handed them to him.

"You've already managed that, but I suppose anything's better than these
wet clothes. Thanks." Climbing into the pickup, Rae gave him the
walkie-talkie.

"See you in the morning?" He kissed her one last time and said, "Count
on it. Be careful."

"Don't forget to call Jace on the walkie-talkie so he'll know to reset
the alarms." Ashe was beginning to shiver again. "I won't," he said.

She started to roll up the window but instead reached out and touched
his cheek. "I love you, Ashe."

"I love you, too." Jace was wide awake, waiting for Ashe to signal him
to reset the alarms. His muscles involuntarily tensed when he heard the
distant crunching of gravel down the road.

Nervously, he burrowed into the sleeping bag, using his flashlight to
look at his watch again. It had been only three minutes since Rae
called. Even in broad daylight with good road conditions, he knew
dodging the potholes made it take at least eight to ten minutes to get
back from the other well site.

He turned off the flashlight and crawled out of his sleeping bag. After
slithering into his insulated coveralls, he pulled his boots back on and
felt in the darkness for his gloves, hat, and overcoat. Stuffing the
walkie-talkie into his pocket, he took out his hunting knife, unzipped
the tent, and slipped into the darkness.

Working his way into the woods, Jace stayed low. Hiding behind a tangled
mass of fallen dead limbs, he watched the headlights of a vehicle
approaching from the south. Totally unnerved, he pulled out the
walkie-talkie with shaking hands. "Ashe? Ashe!" he whispered, terrified
no one would answer.

"What's wrong, Jace?"

"Someone's coming down the road, and it ain't Rae."

"Calm down. How do you know it isn't Rae?"

"They're coming into camp from the south, and she'd be coming from the
north! It must be him. I gotta get outta here!" Ashe thought for several
seconds. "Jace, do you think you can hike to the road and head this way
without being seen?"

"Yes."

"Do it fast, but be sure to stay out of sight in the woods alongside the
road. When whoever just pulled up there realizes no one is at that site,
they might move north on that road to try to find us. You need to stop
Rae before she gets close enough for them to see her headlights. Are you
still in the tent?"

"No. I'm deeper in the woods, by that big pile of dead brush." Ashe
realized it was too late to worry about getting more warm clothes from
camp for either Rae or himself, so he said, "Then start hiking, and go
as fast as you can without getting hurt. Okay?"

"Right."

"And, Jace, keep telling me what's going on and where you are, every ten
minutes or so. I'm going to get in the pickup we rented this morning and
head your way. We need to stick together."

"Yeah. That way he won't have to go to the trouble of picking us off one
by one." Ashe ignored Jace's comment and paced inside the tent, glaring
at Dinell. "You need to come with me," he finally said.

She had been quietly listening and waiting with a sleeping bag wrapped
around her shoulders. Though she was still shivering, her lips weren't
quite as blue as they had been earlier. "What's going on?"

"I wish I knew." Wide-eyed, she said, "It's Brada, isn't it? She's
close, isn't she?"

"Right now I wouldn't be surprised to see an entire circus, complete
with clowns riding elephants, marching through these woods. Let's get
going  ..." Dinell started to walk out, then abruptly stopped when Ashe
yelled, "Wait! Don't step outside! It'll set off the alarms, and
whoever's at the other campsite might hear them!" "What alarms? What
other campsite?" Dinell asked excitedly.

"It's a long story. Trust me, we can't go out that way." He pulled the
hatchet out of his wet coveralls and cut a slit along the bottom of the
back wall of the tent. They squeezed through, then Ashe led her
carefully around the booby traps to the pickup.

When they were inside the truck, Ashe turned the key, but the engine
didn't start. After four more attempts he slammed his fist against the
steering wheel and seethed, "Shit!" Sliding out the driver's-side door,
he lifted the hood and immediately saw the problem, even in the
darkness.

Virtually every wire in sight had been cut.

His eyes full of hatred, he marched back to the door of the pickup.
Glaring at Dinell, he shouted, "Did you tamper with this truck?"

"No! Really! I came here to help, Ashe."

"Then why did you have wire cutters, and what were you doing traipsing
around the woods in the middle of the night? I want the truth this
time!"

"I told you! I was trying to decide how to safely get your attention;
when I stumbled, and you shot at me. I used the wire cutters to get
inside the barbed-wire fence. The man in Elk City warned me that the
gate would probably be locked, so I stopped and bought some warm clothes
and the wire cutters so I could drive around the gate. I'm telling you
the truth!"

"So you cut the fence and drove in? Where's your car?"

"Off the road, on the other side of that ice-cold pond you tried to
drown me in."

"Stay here!" He slammed the door to the pickup and walked away. After
taking a few deep breaths, he used the walkie-talkie. "Jace? Jace?"

"Yeah."

"Are you all right?" Jace was obviously breathing hard as he said, "I
can see Rae's headlights up ahead!" Rae was concentrating, inching the
pickup along the road at a snail's pace for the first mile to build her
confidence. It had been years since she had driven anything larger than
her compact car. With virtually no clothes on, and no twoway radio, the
last thing she needed was to end up stuck in a ditch.

After the second mile passed without a problem, she gained enough
confidence to pick up her speed a little. She was anxious to get back to
camp, and even more anxious to have the chance to talk to Ashe again,
even if it was only on a radio.

She was only a little over a mile from the original HER site when Jace
darted out of the bushes directly in front of her. Screaming,
hysterically slammed on the brakes.

The pickup's rear end slid sideways, the back tires dropping into a
muddy ditch alongside the road while the front tires stayed where they
belonged.

Jace ran to the door and jerked it open. "Turn off the headlights!" he
whispered breathlessly. "Hurry!" Flipping them off, she shouted, "You
scared me half to death! What are you doing out here in the middle of
the night?"

"Shhhh! There's someone at our camp. They just drove up."

"Who?" Rae whispered, trying to regain her composure.

"Did they spot the tents?"

"I don't think so, but I didn't exactly hang around to chat. Where are
your clothes?" Rae glanced down, immediately blushing. "Get in, it's a
long story." Stepping back, Jace looked at the odd angle of the truck.

"I don't think we're going anywhere in this." Holding the door slightly
ajar, she lightly stepped on the gas, leaning out to watch the back end.
The rear tires threw mud and slid sideways, but the truck didn't budge.

Jace held up his hands and shook his head. When she opened the door, he
said, "It's no use, it's high-centered."

"Can we push it out?" she asked.

"Ashe can probably pull it out with the other pickup if we can find a
rope." Smiling slyly, he said, "There's plenty on the rig."

"A lot of good that does us." Jace grabbed the walkie-talkie and quietly
asked, "Ashe, where are you?" After several seconds of static, Ashe
answered. "Still at the other camp. Are you with Rae?"

"Yeah."

"Let me talk to her."

"Right." Jace glared at Rae and warily handed her the radio. "I guess he
doesn't trust me." Shaking her head, she said to Jace, "You know that
isn't true. He's really worried about you. Besides, you have to earn
people's trust." Speaking into the walkie-talkie, she said, "Ashe, the
pickup's stuck on the side of the road about a mile from the old HER
site. Do you think you can come pull it out?"

"We've got more problems than we thought, Rae. Someone cut the wires in
the pickup we left here. It'll have to be towed out of here." Rae's own
emotions mirrored Jace's as the expression on his face turned from fear
to desperation. Almost whispering, Rae asked, "Was it Dinell? She had
wire cutters on her when we found her."

"She swears she didn't have anything to do with it." For a few seconds
Rae and Jace stared at each other. Finally Rae asked, "What do you think
we should do, Ashe?

Is there any other way to get out of here?"

"Dinell left her car on the other side of the pond. We're hiking there
now. The road doesn't go through to where you are, so we would have to
leave from the north and circle around to the south entrance to come get
you. That would take too long, and since we don't know who's there, we
don't want to have to pass the other camp."

"Should Jace and I start hiking your way?"

"Won't you freeze?" Jace peeled off his overcoat and handed it to Rae.
"No. I think we'll be all right," she said as she slipped it on.

"Then that's our best bet right now. I'll call you when we get to her
car."

"Be careful, Ashe. Please." Brada remembered the way to the old HER site
from her last trip there with Ashe and Rae. Keeping her eyes only on the
slick road, she maneuvered into the clearing and parked near the mobile
home. The icy yellow danger hazardous materials ribbon that surrounded
the area around the rig gleamed eerily in her headlights.

She sat there for several seconds, staring at the black tower and
thinking how much things had changed in the last few weeks. No
spotlights lit the rig, and she squinted to see the Petroco sign at the
top. There was no one to trust anymore, no hope for the future she had
been certain would come to pass.

Turning off the engine, she climbed out and stretched.

The cold air refreshed her dull senses, and she was glad she was almost
at the end of her long journey. From the back of the rented Jeep CJ5,
she pulled out a sleeping bag and her suitcase. As an afterthought she
reached under the driver's seat, removed the loaded .44 she'd brought
with her and the extra boxes of ammunition she'd picked up along the
way.

Using the duplicate key she'd kept from her first trip to the site, she
unlocked the mobile home and climbed inside.

It was almost two o'clock in the morning, and she was exhausted.

Dropping her things on the floor, she kicked out the sleeping bag and
crawled inside.

Brada knew she needed rest, even if it was just a couple of hours. If
her plan was going to succeed, she had to be at the site where Ashe,
Rae, and Jace were sleeping well before dawn.


Chapter 18.


Walters practically wore a path in the woods between the pond and the
well site. With amused curiosity he watched the entire scene unfold
before him, almost laughing aloud when he recognized the woman Ashe had
so easily defeated.

Regretfully, he wished he had thought to bring along one of his
sound-amplification devices so he could listen to what they were saying
to each other. Instead, he had to rely on what he could see of their
body language, which was quite a challenge when everyone was freezing.

When he watched the pretty brunette emerge from the tent in her long
Johns, he was tempted to follow her instead of keeping an eye on the
other two. But without a car he doubted if he could keep up with her. As
soon as she left, he regretted his decision. What if she was on her way
to town for help? But if that was the case, why didn't they all go?

Then he observed the most puzzling thing of all. Ashe and Dinell crawled
out a hole in the back of the tent instead of using the zippered door in
front. Walters smiled when he realized they had somehow set a trap. But
for who? And why? They couldn't possibly know he was coming, unless she
had come to warn them.

Their attempt to leave in the pickup was, of course, futile.

Walters momentarily panicked when they started to hike back toward the
pond, realizing they were probably heading toward the Cherokee. He
couldn't believe he had passed so close without disabling it. It was
definitely time for him to get out of the business. One careless mistake
could cost him his life, and he was making far too many.

Moving as fast and quietly as he could, he darted through the woods.
When he reached the edge of the road, he stopped and searched the area
with his night-vision binoculars; Ashe and Dinell were halfway around
the pond, headed directly toward him. Opening the pouch on his belt, he
stuffed the binoculars back in and took out a small, razor-sharp knife.

Crawling on his stomach, he edged his way to the back of the Cherokee,
then around to the driver's side. After putting his gun back in its
shoulder holster, he slid under the car and started to work.

It was difficult in the tight space and with gloves on, but Walters
managed to reach around the motor and slice several wires. As he
disappeared back into the woods, he hoped they were important ones.

Ashe grabbed Dinell's arm and stopped her, his hand motioning for her to
be quiet. Leaning close, he said, "I thought I just saw something move
behind the Jeep." She didn't answer, but stared into the darkness before
them. "It was probably the shadow of a tree, or something blowing in the
wind. I don't see anything," she whispered.

"It's pretty misty, though."

"At least it stopped sleeting. Let's slow down just to be sure," Ashe
said. They moved on, walking softly toward the car. Using the
walkie-talkie, he said, "Rae, I've got one of those feelings like you
usually get."

"Then turn around and come back! With all four of us pushing, we can
probably get the other pickup out of the ditch." He hesitated, then
said, "We'll be careful. Where are you now?"

"Near that tree that was split by lightning."

"Good, you've made it halfway already. See anything unusual?"

"No. But then again, I'm not sure what would be normal for sometime
after three o'clock in the morning in the middle of nowhere, and I'm too
cold to care. I'll call when we get closer." He stuck the radio back in
his pocket and pulled Dinell toward him. "We're going to swing wide and
come in from the back."

"Better safe than sorry, right?" she whispered.

Ashe shook his head, almost certain now that Dinell was not their leak.
"More like better alive than dead. If we're up against who I think we
are, he's got a lot of high-tech weapons on his side."

"You mean you don't think it's Brada?" He squatted, trying to look under
the car from the edge of the trees. Pulling her down beside him, he
said, "I wish it was. Give me your keys." She patted her pockets, then
said weakly, "They're either in my wet clothes back at the tent, or they
fell out of my jacket when you knocked me in the water." The furious
look he shot her made her wish she could crawl off and die. "I'm sorry,
really. I'm just so tired, and cold." He stood, shoving his hands in his
pockets to block them from the wind. "Did you lock it when you left?"

"No. It never dawned on me anyone would try to steal a car out here,
especially on a night like this."

"Either way it'll be all right. Even without keys Jace will probably be
able to start it. We'll just have to wait for them to get here, and hope
that whoever disabled the pickup didn't do the same thing to the
Cherokee." From the woods behind them, Walters said, "Actually, I just
took care of it a few minutes ago. I'm glad to hear Jace Williams is
lurking around here somewhere ...  Both of you put your hands up, very,
very slowly. I'm sure you've guessed that I have a gun. You wouldn't
want me to use it, would you?" Before pulling his hands out of his
pocket, Ashe pushed the button on the walkie-talkie and loudly asked,
"What do you want with us, Walters?"

"I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered that you know my name.
To answer your question, it's Williams I'm after, among other things.
Now get those hands up!" Lifting his hands above his head, Ashe said, "I
don't suppose you'd believe we don't know where he is." Walters laughed.
"You're right. I don't believe it. Besides, I just heard you say they
were coming here, and that Jace's hot-wiring abilities might come in
handy. Did you know that's how this all started?" Ashe nodded.

Walters laughed. "I can't wait to see who shows up with him this time.
This is getting to be quite an interesting little party." Jace stopped
dead in his tracks. "Did you hear that!"

"Of course I did. Be quiet!" Rae shoved him behind a tree to block the
wind while they talked. She squatted so the jacket covered her ice-cold
legs, and pulled Jace next to her. After several seconds she whispered,
"We're not moving another inch until we have a plan."

"A plan? Are you kidding me? How about running like hell? Sounds like a
plan to me!"

"No! Ashes and Dinell's lives are in our hands."

"Wrong, lady. Their lives are in his hands, not ours.

He wants me dead, and he don't care who else he has to kill along the
way. They're probably already dead by now anyway."

"No, they aren't! You listen to me, Jace Williams. We are all going to
get out of this alive! Understand?" He nodded sheepishly.

Rae took a deep breath and said, "Okay. He won't kill Ashe and Dinell,
because he'll try to use them as bait to get you. That is his style,
isn't it?" Jace was quiet, then said, "He'll probably wait for us at the
camp, but if we don't show, he'll come hunt us down like dogs." She
rubbed her aching legs. "Do you think you can make it to the highway
alone? I know it's four miles, but you could probably flag down a semi
and get a lift into town."

"Right. Like anybody's gonna stop to pick me up on a dark, deserted
highway. Are you nuts?"

"You need to get away from here. It's you he wants, not the rest of us."

"He'll kill all of you either way. You know too much. He didn't bat an
eye when he was shooting at me."

"We'll have to take our chances, Jace. Head for the road, but stay in
the brush. Try not to leave a trail he can follow, just in case." Jace
stared at her for a long time, then began shaking his head. "No. I'm
staying with you. I been out there alone before, twice, and he found me
both times. It's like he can smell my fear and go right to where I am."

"It's very noble of you to offer to stay, but I can take care of myself.
Really."

"I ain't leaving. He'd find me--sooner or later."

"Jace  ..." He shook his head.

She took a deep breath. "Okay. We've got our work cut out for us. Any
brilliant ideas?" Jace said, "We could sneak back to the other camp for
some supplies."

"What! There's somebody back there!" Rae said.

"But now we know it isn't Walters. He's the main one we should worry
about."

"But we don't know who it is!" Jace anxiously said, "Maybe it was the
police. Maybe someone saw everyone coming and going tonight and thought
we were trespassing or something."

"And maybe your fairy godmother is going to turn Walters into a mouse at
dawn. What do you want to get from back there, anyway?"

"There must be something on that rig we could use. I saw lots of pipe,
chain cutters  ..."

"I told you, that rig is radioactive."

"Maybe it is  ...  but where else can we find something to stop him
with?" Rae's frown slowly turned into a smile. "We'll have to move fast.
It may not work, but I have an idea ..." Walters shoved Ashe as he said,
"Lean against the car and spread 'em." Pushing Dinell, he added, "You,
too, lady." They did as he said, and he frisked each one. Pulling the
hatchet out of Ashes coveralls, he tucked it in his pants.

Running his hands along Ashes jacket, Walters stopped when he felt the
walkie-talkie. "What's this?" he asked.

"My ticket to Jace's funeral?" Ashe stared silently ahead.

Walters grabbed Ashes shoulder, turned him around, and shoved the gun
under his chin. "You do realize, I'll find them with or without your
help." Grabbing Dinell by the hair, he added, "However, Greenwall's
little secretary probably wouldn't care for the slow death she'd have to
endure all because of your uncooperative attitude." Through clenched
teeth Ashe replied, "Leave her alone.

I'll do what you ask." Walters released her, and she fell against the
Cherokee in tears. Turning to Ashe, he said, "I'm going to tell you
exactly what to say over that radio. If you warn them in any way,
there'll be a bullet hole between her pretty brown eyes. Understand?"

"I understand perfectly, you bastard." Rae and Jace ran as fast as they
could back toward the stranded pickup, staying in the woods alongside
the dirt road. Breathlessly Jace said, "I'm tired of getting kicked in
the face by the branches you hit. Why can't we use the frigging road?"

"Footprints. Besides, the road is even slicker than these leaves. We
don't want them to know we got this far and turned back."

"Why are we going back to the truck anyway?"

"Have you ever siphoned gas?" Jace nudged her from behind. "What'd you
think I am, a juvenile delinquent?"

"Yes or no?" she asked, purposely letting go of a branch just before he
reached it.

"Ow!" After a second he muttered, "Yeah, I know how to suck gas. We
gonna make a bomb?" Rae cringed. "No. What we'll do depends on what's in
the back of the pickup for us to work with. I know there's a small
torch, because we bought it to start fires to clear the new site.
Hopefully, there'll be some hose, rags, maybe ajar or a container. The
tire tool might come in handy, and the Geiger counter's in the front
seat."

"Ashe didn't want any raccoons chowing down, so he had me put last
night's trash in the toolbox."

"Good. There's got to be something flammable there; plus it should be
dry," she said.

When they could see the truck, Rae made Jace stop. While they caught
their breath, she said, "Look for fresh tracks, and listen before we go
out in the open. We still don't know where that other car stopped, or
who was in it." He did as she said, and when they were confident they
were still alone, he was the first to the truck. Climbing into the bed,
he began rummaging through the supplies.

At the sound of ashe's voice, Rae yelled, "Jace, be quiet!" Rae waited
until Ashe called again before answering on the radio. Even though she
could hear him loud and clear, she said, "Ashe, you're not coming in
very well. You're breaking up." Slowly Ashe asked, "Where are you?" She
hesitated, then answered, "In the pickup. I twisted my ankle and can't
walk." When Jace was sure he couldn't be heard over the radio, he
snapped, "You told them exactly where we are! Are you crazy?" Rae glared
at him, signaling him to be quiet. After several seconds Ashe asked,
"Where's Jace?" Still glaring at Jace, Rae answered, "I sent him back to
the original HER site to get the first-aid kit and something to use as a
splint." Another hesitation, then Ashe asked, "How long ago did he
leave?"

"Say again, Ashe. Your radio's really fading. I told you not to carry it
around in those wet coveralls. It probably has a short. Or maybe it got
jarred when you helped Jace chase off that bull. Actually, Jace is
headed back up to where he hid from the bull as we speak."

"How long ago did Jace leave?" Ashe flatly repeated.

"Just a few minutes. He helped me back here so I wouldn't freeze to
death out in the wind, then left. It'll probably take him an hour to
hike back and forth. Did you get Dinell's car started?" After an even
longer silence Ashe said, "Yes. We're going to drive around and come
back in from the south road.

We should be there by the time Jace gets back."

"Great. I'll be watching for you." She laid the radio in the front seat.

Jace was still furious. "Why did you tell them where we were?"

"I told you, I have a plan," she growled.

"And I told you, he's gonna kill us!"

"We'll see. What time is it?" Jace strained to see his watch, then
answered, "Two thirty-five."

"California or Oklahoma time?"

"California."

"That means it's four thirty-five here. The sun will be coming up in
about two hours. I hope they hurry. This plan won't work in daylight."
Jace shook his head. "Ashe won't just lead him to you, you know." Rae
was digging through the toolbox as she said, "Weren't you listening when
I was talking to him on the radio?"

"Yeah. So?"

"He knows enough about what I have planned to bring Walters right here
to us. It's better than the two of us walking into whatever clever trap
Walters would devise."

"You really are crazy, aren't you? You didn't tell him nothing."

"Sure, I did," she said as she unscrewed the gas cap. "I told him you'd
be up in a tree waiting for his help." Jace dropped the box he was
holding. "I'd be where?

First of all, I ain't climbing no tree. Second, you didn't tell him
anything like that."

"The story about the twisted ankle is our way of making them come to us.
He knows there's nothing wrong with his radio, and that I never told him
not to put it in his wet coveralls.

That was his clue that we heard his warning and know exactly what is
going on where he is. And the only way he helped you with the bull was
by getting you out of the tree.

Trust me. He'll figure it out."

"Well, I ain't climbing no tree again. You should have checked with me
first." Rae instantly regretted slamming down the lid of the toolbox as
the noise vibrated around them. Through clenched teeth she said, "Sorry,
Jace, I guess I should have cleared every single thing with you first!
Forget my plan! Instead, we'll just politely ask Walters to let us all
go! It's up to you, since I'm sure you'll be the one he kills first."
She pointed at the large limb hanging directly above them. "Either you
climb this damned tree, or you die. It's your choice!"

"Jeez. You don't have to be so hateful." She took a deep breath. "We
have to work together to survive. Okay?"

"Okay  ..."

"I don't believe they're driving anywhere in this weather.

My bet is, they'll come on foot, so it'll take them awhile to get here.
Are there any supplies left from the alarms you rigged?"

"Some wire and some fishing line," Jace answered.

"Can you fix something to make a little noise when they cross it?
Preferably Not too noticeable. Loud enough for us to hear but natural,
so it won't arouse their suspicions too much." Jace thought, then said,
"I think I can, if everything isn't too wet."

"Just try. Make it as wide as you can on each side. I'd bet they'll stay
close enough to see the road so they don't get lost, just like we did.
You work on that while I figure out the rest."

"The rest of what?" Pulling the hand-held propane torch out of one of
the boxes, she said, "Just wait. You're gonna love it. Give me your
flashlight." He handed it to her, and she followed each step as she read
the side of the twelve-inch-long tank out loud. "Danger.

Propane Fuel .2500F. To operate: Screw tank into valve body tightly.
Turn fuel button completely on, and press Ignite button." Jace laughed
when Rae jumped back from the nozzle's unexpected whoosh of bluish-white
flame. Rae admired her lethal weapon, then turned the fuel knob
counterclockwise, immediately extinguishing it. "Pretty impressive. That
empty milk carton in the trash should hold enough to do the job. Now all
we have to do is siphon the gas." Shaking his head, Jace said, "That's
gonna be pretty hard, considering we don't have any hose."

"We can use a vacuum hose off the motor. If not, there's a screwdriver
and a hammer in the toolbox. For now, you worry about the alarm, I'll
worry about the gas."

"Be careful. If this place stinks of gas, he won't come anywhere near
it."

"Hopefully, we can get done soon, and the wind will blow any odor away.
Besides, from the awkward angle of the truck, he'd probably assume the
gas tank was leaking." Jace looked right in her eye. "You really capable
of this?" Confidently glaring back at him, Rae snapped, "I'll fry his
balls and serve them on a platter if he gives me half a chance. Now get
busy." Jace instinctively cringed, then smiled as he walked away. "I
gotta see this. Good luck."

"Thanks. You, too. And, Jace  ..."

"What?"

"Hurry!" Ashes mind was racing as they trudged through the woods.
Walters had tied his hands, then attached a threefoot piece of rope
between him and Dinell. The rope attached to her hands, which were tied
in front of her. As Ashe expected, he was forced to lead the way, with
Dinell in the middle and Walters bringing up the rear.

Everyone silently endured the first mile. Then Dinell suddenly slipped,
stumbling to the ground. The rope pulled Ashe backward, almost on top of
her. He swung around, hoping Walters was close enough to kick, but he
was at least six feet away.

Walters warned, "Try that again, and you won't live to see tomorrow."
"Will we anyway?" Ashe asked.

"Possibly. Contrary to what Williams has probably told you, I'm not a
psychotic killer. As a matter of fact, we have similar goals. Saving the
environment can be done in many ways. I prefer to systematically destroy
Petroco at the same time." Ashe grumbled, "How does killing an innocent
kid help save the environment or stop Petroco?"

"If you're speaking of Jace Williams, he's far from being an innocent
kid. Sometimes people do foolish things, and they have to pay the
price." Ashe wanted to keep him talking, hoping Jace and Rae might hear
them coming. "Other than your air-filter company, how else have you
helped the environment?" Walters laughed. "Do you have a death wish?"

"No. But I'm curious. You've gone to an awful lot of trouble to track
down Jace just because he stole your car.

Either you really liked that car, or there's more to the story."

"There's more, but if I tell you too much I'll definitely have to kill
you. How much farther is it?" Ashe lied. "How should I know? She said
the pickup slid off the road about halfway between the two camps. It's
probably at least another mile, maybe two."

"Then pick up the pace. I need to be out of here before sunrise. And no
more talking. If I decide to announce our arrival, I'll do it myself."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, the eerie quiet broken only
by their footsteps and the sound of bits of ice blowing out of the
barren trees.

"When they trip the line, I'll hear the twigs I rigged fall.

I'll drop an acorn in the bed of the truck so you'll know," Jace
whispered. He sensed the urgency in the air, fully aware their time to
prepare was almost up.

Rae asked, "Are you sure you understand the plan? I'm going to pretend
to be asleep in the truck. I disconnected the inside light, so he won't
be able to see the torch in my hand when I open the door. When he gets
directly under you, dump the gas on him, and I'll let him have it." Jace
shook his fist in the air. "And hopefully he'll fry even before he gets
to hell!" She gave him a little hug. "You'd better get up there now.
I'll hand you the gas." Jace let Rae give him a boost to the closest
limb. Then he nervously watched the ground move farther away as he
climbed higher. When he was positioned on a large limb directly over the
truck, he took deep breaths. Until yesterday he had never realized how
much he hated heights.

Rae climbed into the bed, then on top of the cab. She carefully rubbed
mud all over the milk carton full of gas to keep it from standing out,
then handed it to him. When she was safely back on the ground, Jace
said, "I guess we should be glad it finally stopped sleeting."

"I'm not so sure. The sleet made it harder to see. I hope he doesn't
spot you."

"I'm glad I picked the camouflage cast instead of the blaze orange one."

"Me, too." She looked up, throwing him a timid smile.

"We'll celebrate when we get out of here. How about a nice, thick slice
of prime rib for dinner tonight?" Jace felt his stomach knot. "Forget
dinner. Right now I'd settle for a big stack of pancakes for breakfast.
Did you have to mention food? Now I'm really hungry." Rae climbed inside
the truck. "Then it's an official date.

Pancakes, hash browns, sausage, orange juice, eggs, toast, muffins  ..."
Jace groaned, practically drowning in his own saliva. To take his mind
off food, he began searching what little he could see of the horizon.
With the clouds blocking the moonlight and the brisk wind blowing the
tree limbs, it was impossible to tell if anyone was coming.

But within a few short minutes, he heard what he was sure was a pile of
twigs falling. His alarm had worked.

Brada's head was resting on her hands when the alarm on her wristwatch
sounded, practically scaring her to death.

She bolted upright, her legs hopelessly tangled in the sleeping bag as
she groped for her gun. By the time she realized no one else was in the
mobile home, she was wide awake, her heart pounding in her ears.

Unzipping the bag, she freed herself and stretched. She tried the light
switch, but wasn't surprised to find there was no electricity in the
mobile home. Using a flashlight, she reviewed the aerial photograph of
the other site for the last time, then refolded it and stuffed it into
her jeans. It confirmed the decision she had made yesterday. She would
drive halfway, then hike the rest of the way to the other HER site.

The element of surprise was essential. Brada needed to find a good
hiding spot where she could watch Walters, literally, execute his plans.
Then she could execute hers.

"Stop here!" Walters hissed.

Ashe and Dinell halted. Both of them had heard the sound of sticks
falling just a few feet from where they were. It could have been from
the build-up of ice, or it might have been a person.

"Stay right where you are. Don't even breathe." Keeping them in his
sights, Walters moved cautiously toward the road. The truck was half off
the road, only thirty yards ahead. In the darkness it appeared to be
abandoned.

Easing his night-vision binoculars out of his utility belt, he
concentrated on the cab as well as he could without losing sight of Ashe
and Dinell. It looked as though a woman was asleep in the driver's seat,
her head resting against the window. The rest of the pickup appeared to
be empty.

Marching back to them, he shoved the walkie-talkie into Ashes bound
hands. "Ask her how she's doing." Ashe simply stared at the ground,
purposely antagonizing him. "Ask her yourself, you son of a bitch." In a
flash Walters kicked him in the jaw. Unable to defend himself with his
hands tied, Ashe fell backward, pushing Dinell into the tree behind him.
As he fell, he flung the walkie-talkie as hard as he could into the
woods.

After helping Dinell up, Ashe wiped the blood from the corner of his
mouth with the back of his hand. "I hope Rae is as far from here as she
can get. Jace, too, for that matter." Shaking his head, Walters said,
"Well, then I'd better explain things to you. If she isn't in that
truck, both of you are dead. Right now." He walked into the woods and
emerged with the walkie-talkie. Shoving it into Ashes hand again, he
seethed, "Call her!" Ashe hesitated, then spoke calmly into the
walkie-talkie, "Rae. Are you okay?" There was no answer, only static.

Even as Walters' second kick sent him reeling, inwardly Ashe was
smiling.

Rae's heart almost stopped when she heard Ashes voice so clearly, but
she didn't move an inch. Although she had decided not to answer the
radio again, she desperately wanted to talk to him. Instead, she very
slowly reached into her pocket and switched her radio off, making
certain to maintain her exact position. Walters needed to believe she
was asleep.

Her hands held the propane tank against the door, one ready to open the
fuel valve, the other ready to push the Ignite button. She closed her
eyes and silently thanked God Ashe was still alive. Her second prayer
was that they would all stay that way.

Walters deliberated for several minutes before deciding how to approach
the pickup. His natural distrust of people made him evaluate every angle
of his strategy. Using the piece of rope that bound Dinell and Ashe, he
placed them on opposite sides of a sturdy tree, then tied them together
once again.

He hiked well past the pickup, crossed the road, then approached it from
the rear. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Moving only inches at a
time, he stepped from the woods onto the road, waiting for movement.
Walters was certain that if she had a gun, the temptation would be too
great. She wouldn't wait much longer to use it, After several minutes of
waiting in the open, he would have bet she was asleep and, more
important, unarmed.

Years of experience had taught him two things: patience and the
importance of being more prepared than your enemy.

He thought he had covered both.

Every muscle in Jace's body was screaming to move, but he remained
frozen, concentrating on Walters' strange movements, or rather, the lack
thereof. Even though Walters was covered from head to toe in camouflage,
Jace could see each step he took. He wondered if it would hurt much,
dying from a gunshot wound. In the darkness the gun that hung by
Walters' side looked as though it were a natural extension of his right
hand, a gleaming reflection of the evil deep inside.

When Walters reached the center of the road, near the bed of the truck,
he suddenly dropped to the ground. Instantly rolling to the driver's
door, he stopped. The unexpected maneuver surprised Jace, but he didn't
flinch.

Looking straight down, he saw Walters crouching by the driver's door,
covered with a fresh layer of mud.

In the darkness Jace couldn't tell if Rae swung the door open, or if
Walters reached up and yanked it open himself.

All he knew was it was his turn to act, and fast.

Rae rolled out the driver's-side door when Walters jerked it open,
igniting the torch as she hit the ground, Walters was screaming, no
doubt from the unexpected shower of gasoline pouring over both of them.
Rae felt it splash across her face and arms, but it was too late to
stop.

The bluish-white flame touched Walters' pant legs first, but the wet,
muddy fabric didn't ignite. Rae tightly squinted her eyes, the horrible
smell of gas assaulting her senses.

She knew she was risking her own life as much as his by holding the
torch so close, but it didn't matter--there was too much at stake.

Frantically holding the hissing cylinder at arm's length, she prayed the
flames would engulf only him. The smell of singeing material mingled
with the stench of fuel as sparks flickered on his pant leg. Then she
heard the sickening whoosh of his gas-soaked face and hair flashing into
flames.

As Walters screamed, his finger tightened on the trigger of the gun.
Dropping to one knee, he fired blindly in every direction.

Inching northward without headlights, Brada was concentrating on the
dark, wet road, wondering how long she would have to wait for Walters to
arrive. When an arc of bright yellow flames suddenly appeared in the
distance, followed by the flashes of a gun barrel, she instinctively
slammed on the brakes.

At first Brada was certain she was imagining things. She knew otherwise
when she watched the burning mass drop lower, then disappear.

Slamming the CJ5 into park, she grabbed her gun and filled her coat
pockets with extra shells. Excitement pulsed through her as she jumped
out of the truck and silently closed the door. Easing into the woods,
Brada worked her way closer, confident her long struggle was finally at
an end.

The second bullet caught Rae in the shoulder, hurling her against the
front tire of the pickup, away from the flames.

The torch flew out of her hand, coming to rest just outside her grasp.

Everything had happened so quickly, Jace barely had time to regain his
senses. He cringed, instinctively freezing when the bullets started
flying. Three sailed within inches of him; one struck the limb just
above his head.

When he finally pried his eyes open to look back down, Walters was
rolling on the wet dirt road. The flames engulfing his head were quickly
going out.

Jace could hear Ashe shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Rae! The torch! Get the torch, he's coming back! Hurry!" The torch was
still lit, about a foot from her arm. Jace saw the dazed look in her
eyes, then the dark spot growing on her right shoulder. He knew he had
no choice. In spite of his fear, he wrapped his good arm around the
branch and swung down, dropping onto the top of the pickup before
falling painfully into the road.

Walters had struggled back to his feet and was heading toward Rae with
the gun still dangling from his hand. As he slowly raised it, a sinister
grin creased his burned face.

He growled, "Finally! This time you won't get away, you little bastard!"
Just as Walters pulled the trigger, over and over again, Jace struggled
to get up, then lunged for the torch. He cringed, anticipating pain,
surprised when nothing ripped through his flesh. Walters must have run
out of ammunition.

Jace's fingers reached for the torch, but it slid away from him. Mud was
clogging the nozzle, extinguishing the flame he so desperately needed.
Walters laughed, tossing his gun to the ground as he leaned down. Almost
casually he started to remove something from his boot.

Grabbing the torch even though it wasn't lit, Jace turned the cylinder
around and gripped it like a baseball bat. Leaning against the side of
the pickup for only a second, he took a deep breath, then stepped toward
Walters, swinging with all his might.

The smooth metal container slammed against the side of Walters' burnt
face, sending him reeling sideways. Jace attacked with all his strength,
alternating brutal kicks with vicious swipes of the butt end of the
torch.

When he felt Rae's hand on his shoulder, Jace finally stopped his attack
and dropped to his knees. She was pulling him away, pleading with him
not to kill Walters.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she sank to the ground beside him.

Jace's eyes burned with fury. "You should have let me kill him!" Pulling
at him, she shook her head. "He's not going anywhere.

Help me find Ashe." They stood, and Jace wrapped his arm around her
waist to support her as they walked. Together they followed the sound of
Ashes voice into the woods. Jace helped Ashe free his hands, then did
the same for Dinell.

"Are you hurt?" Ashe asked, gently touching her shoulder.

"Not too bad. Maybe a graze  ..." Ashe swept her into his arms,
carefully positioning her on the ground against the tree so he could
check her wound.

She flinched when he lifted Jace's jacket to look underneath.

"I'm sorry, but it's a little more than a graze. At least it looks like
the bullet went all the way through." "I know it did," she said.

"Really?" Ashe asked.

Rae nodded, then weakly giggled. "It hit the tire behind me. I could
hear the air hissing out of it ..." Ashe turned to Dinell. "See if you
can find something clean in the truck to use as a bandage." Turning to
Jace, he added, "I'm going to carry her to the pickup. She needs to be
warm. Will it still run?"

"We pulled off a vacuum hose to siphon the gas. I'll try to find it and
get it started again."

"Before you do that, would you take some of this rope and tie up
Walters? Unless he's dead, he's still dangerous."

"Right. I'll check to see if he has any more surprises on him, too."
Ashe grabbed Jace, roughly hugging him. "Thanks, Jace.

For everything." Rae agreed, her voice growing weak. "You really came
through when it counted, Jace. I'm proud of you." Squatting beside her,
Jace replied, "Don't you give out on me now, lady. We got a date for
breakfast. Pancakes, remember?"

"I remember ..." As Ashe swept her gently into his arms and carried
her,. he playfully whispered, "Dating other men, are you? And I thought
you only loved me."

"Wishful thinking."

"On his part or mine?" he asked as he lifted her into the front seat.

With her eyes closed, she mumbled, "Both." When Sherrie Rosen finally
awoke, her mother was at her side. She had no idea where she was, only
that something was terribly wrong. Trying to sit up, she barely lifted
her head. Her mother's voice soothed her. "Relax, Sherrie.

Everything's going to be all right." Looking around, she tried to ask
where she was, but her throat ached so much she knew she couldn't talk.
Raising her eyebrows, she silently pleaded with her mother.

"You've had a bad fall. You're in a hospital in California, but you're
going to be fine. You need to rest." Memories flooded back. The stairs,
the fall, the wicked laughter  ...  Nathan was innocent, and she knew
how to prove it!

She tried to sit up again, but her mother held her gently.

"Calm down, Sherrie. I know it's hard, but whatever it is, it will have
to wait. You have a severe concussion and a broken leg. There's a tube
in your throat to help you breathe.

That's why you can't talk. Understand?" A tear of frustration rolled
down her cheek as she closed her eyes and nodded. She prayed Brada
wouldn't succeed.

Again.

Brada watched from the woods as Ashe, Jace, and Dinell frantically
worked. Rae and Walters were both hurt, but she couldn't tell how badly,
and she didn't want to risk getting any closer. There was no time to
plan. She had to act now, before they managed to leave.

It was obvious Walters had wreaked havoc, but they had managed to win
the first battle. Her fingers tightened around her gun as she thought.
But the last victory will be mine!


Chapter 19.


Jace cautiously approached Walters' still body. Using a long branch, he
prodded him several times before moving close enough to risk actually
touching him. Since Walters was lying facedown, Jace used a piece of
rope to bind his hands behind his back. When he finished the last knot,
he sighed, relaxing slightly with the knowledge Walters could no longer
attack.

Gripping Walters' shoulder, Jace rolled him over in the center of the
muddy road. A gust of wind carried the sickening smell of seared flesh
and gasoline, causing Jace to gag. The sight of Walters' burned, beaten
face made his nausea even worse. Although Jace wanted to feel his neck
for a pulse, just to be certain he wouldn't ever hurt anyone again, he
couldn't bear to touch the grimy, blackened flesh.

A shiver ran through Jace's entire body when he realized how close they
had all come to death. Jace shook himself, clearing his mind so he could
finish searching Walters' body and get away from the horrible stench.

Walters moaned. Jace froze, first disappointed that Walters was still
live, then immediately apprehensive. Was the bastard inhuman enough to
spring up and strike again, even with his hands tied behind his back?
Jace didn't care to hang around long enough to find out.

Working faster, Jace removed Walters' utility belt, quickly noting its
pockets were filled with binoculars, a Swiss Army knife, brass knuckles,
pepper gas, and an assortment of miniature high-tech gear. Jace couldn't
begin to guess what some of the things were for, much less how to
operate them. He strapped the belt around his waist and continued his
search.

Nervously, Jace ran his hands down Walters' legs, not surprised to find
a switchblade inside one boot and a larger knife inside the other.
"Ashe! You gotta come see this stuff!" he shouted.

Ashe walked over. Jace handed him the weapons and showed him the utility
belt. Walters moaned again. "Is he coming around?" Ashe asked.

"I think so. Maybe I'd better tie his feet."

"No time to worry about it right now. I need you to help me push the
pickup. We need to get the hell out of here and get Rae to a hospital."

"What about the front tire? It's flat, you know."

"I'll drive on four rims if I have to. Dinell helped me bind Rae's wound
tightly, so at least she's not losing as much blood. I'm still afraid
she'll go into shock. Even if we could change that tire in this slop,
there isn't time."

"I'll go gather some sticks. Putting them under the back tires should
get us a little more traction. If we both lift up on the back end, it
may crawl right outta there."

"Good idea." Ashe patted him on the shoulder and added, "And Jace  ..."

"I know  ...  hurry!" Dinell was inside the pickup with Rae, trying to
keep her warm. Cracking the door open, she screamed, "Ashe! Jace!

Look!" Pointing down the road, she added, "Someone's coming!" Everyone
temporarily froze, staring like frightened deer at the headlights
bouncing toward them.

Brada stopped the CJ5 and hopped out. Running toward Ashe with her hands
in her pockets, she yelled, "Thank God you're all okay. I've been
worried sick about you." Ashe said, "We're not all okay. Rae's been
shot. We need to get her and Walters to a hospital. Fast!"

"You can take them in my Jeep. What's been going on here?" she asked
innocently.

"It's a long story," he sighed.

"I need to talk to you for a minute first," Brada said, then pulled Ashe
away from everyone else. She nervously looked around, then whispered,
"Sherrie sent me. She said Dinell tried to kill her and that I needed to
warn you. I went to the old HER site first, because I didn't know how to
get to the new one. When I heard the shots a few minutes ago, I knew
something was terribly wrong. Since we can't all fit into my Jeep, we
can tie up Dinell and I'll watch her while you take Rae to the
hospital."

"Dinell isn't our problem." Ashe motioned toward Walters, who was
quickly regaining his senses. "He is."

"You're wrong. If he's who I think he is, Dinell's been feeding him
information for years. She's trying to run RESCUE out of business. I
have proof." Dinell climbed out of the pickup. Walking toward Ashe and
Brada, she kept her distance while quietly stating, "Whatever she's
telling you, don't believe it. I have proof she's the traitor at RESCUE,
not me! Back in the Cherokee is a copy of the diskette Marilyn Prosser's
mother mailed to us. I made copies before I gave one to Brada, and we
all know what happened to the data on her diskette!" Brada shook her
head. "Surely you don't believe her, Ashe. Dinell paid Walters to
sabotage your HER well. She may as well have killed Andy herself! I have
evidence back at headquarters. Besides, how do you know the diskette
wasn't blank when she gave it to me? If she made copies, why didn't she
tell anyone?" Dinell fumed, "I gave copies to our computer division so
they could prove you erased the information! I've been watching you for
months, trying to find a way to stop your treachery!"

"Then why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I had to have proof!" Ashe didn't like the fact he couldn't see Brada's
hands.

Holding up his own, he said, "We'll have plenty of time to decide who
did what later. Right now I need to get Rae to a hospital." The two
women glared at each other, and Brada excitedly said, "Save Rae, Ashe!
Dinell and I can stay here and guard Walters. When you get to town, you
can send the police, and a wrecker." Dinell was backing away. "I'd
rather be thrown into a pit of vipers. At least they can't lie about
what they are.

She'll kill me if you leave me here, Ashe! After I'm dead, she'll blame
all rescue's troubles on me." Ashe mentally weighed his lousy options.
"I'm not going anywhere until you give me the gun in your pocket,
Brada." Wide-eyed, she asked, "You mean you don't trust me?"

"No one should trust her." Everyone turned to stare as Walters, a few
yards away, futilely tried to get to his feet. He laughed, then groaned,
his deep, gravelly voice carried by the cold wind stirring the leaves.
Although he slurred his words, they all could understand everything he
said. "She's your problem, not the other lady. Brada is a manipulative,
sleazy bitch," he rasped. "I should know, she succeeded in making a fool
out of me!

Used me to do her dirty work for years, and I was stupid enough to trust
her." Brada stepped back, pulling the gun out of her pocket and pointing
it at Ashe and Dinell. Ashe quickly evaluated the situation, realizing
he would jeopardize Dinell's life if he attacked. Looking around, he was
glad Rae was lying on the front seat of the pickup, out of the line of
fire. It was Jace he was worried about. He was nowhere in sight. Raising
his hands, Ashe sighed.

Walters stumbled, rolling back to the ground and coughing before he
said, "She tricked me into sabotaging one of rescue's wells by telling
me it belonged to Petroco. She even had me frame your buddy, Nathan
Greenwall--" Dinell interrupted, "So she could bankrupt RESCUE by
sinking millions of dollars into a Solar project that hasn't got a
chance in hell!" Brada's eyes were wild as she squeezed the trigger and
screamed, "Shut up!" He laughed as the bullet flew harmlessly over his
head.

"You really think I'm going to make it through this? What have I got to
lose? We've worked together a long time, Brada. If you don't kill me,
I'll kill you, and you know it." Ashe asked, "Are you saying you killed
Chuck Kelmar just to frame Nathan?" His voice was growing more hoarse
each second. "That was the best part. Killed two birds with one
stone--pinned it on Greenwall and made Petroco bite one, too. Clever,
wasn't I?" Brada screamed, "Shut up!" She pulled the trigger again,
firing three shots. Two struck Walters, one in the right chest, the
other the lower abdomen. The third barely missed Dinell, who turned and
ran.

"Stop where you are, Dinell, or I'll kill Ashe and Rae," Brada screamed.

Dinell slowed down near the bed of the pickup, but stopped so most of
her body was blocked. "You'll kill us all anyway. We know too much!"
Turning the gun toward Ashe, she said, "That bastard deserved to die.
He's murdered countless people. Senators, professors, even poor Marilyn
Prosser. Now get over there by Dinell so I can think." Out of the corner
of his eye, Ashe caught a slight movement in the trees behind her.
Purposely turning his back to Brada, he reached inside his coveralls and
pulled out the knife Jace had taken off Walters.

Positioning himself behind Dinell where Brada couldn't see both his
hands, he asked, "Why, Brada? Why would you want to hurt RESCUE?
Nathan's been your friend since you were kids. He gave you the chance to
do what you always dreamed of doing. Why betray him?"

"Saving the world from itself was never my dream, it was Nathan's. Chuck
and I hit it off when I worked for him. It was our plan. He wanted
RESCUE out of the way, and I wanted Nathan to pay for everything he did
to me." Ashe was bewildered, sickened by the hate that flowed so easily
from Brada. "What could Nathan have done that would make you hate him so
much?"

"You mean the poor little rich boy? Nathan Greenwall never had to work
for a damned thing in his entire life. His mommy made sure he would
never have to get his hands dirty, never have to grovel like the rest of
us. Don't you know how they treated my mother? Don't you remember?"
Thinking back, Ashe barely remembered Brada's mother had worked for Mrs.
Greenwall. But it had been only for a few short months. "You mean when
she worked for them for a while?"

"I should've known he never told you. We needed money so bad, and they
fired her! They said she stole something from them! Why the hell
shouldn't she? Her kids had to wear clothes from Goodwill! Her kids
lived for a month on the money she got from selling that stinking
necklace she took! Her hatred for the Greenwalls has kept her drinking
for years. I swore to her that Nathan would pay, and he will!"

"But, Brada, that happened so long ago. Nathan would never do anything
to hurt you. Surely your mother wouldn't want you to do all this just to
get revenge on him." Brada was growing agitated. "Bullshit! I want him
to lose hope just like she did. Nathan is a spoiled rich kid who'll do
whatever it takes to get what he wants! Look at RESCUE!" Nodding toward
Walters's body she screamed, "It was RESCUE, and that stupid bastard's
fault! He killed my best friend. Chuck was the only person who ever
really cared about me! He wasn't supposed to frame Nathan by killing
Chuck. All he was supposed to do was get Nathan out of the way!" Ashe
seethed, "But why? Why sabotage his company for years instead of just
ruining him once and for all?" Brada was shaking. "Because he had to
suffer! A long, agonizing life is what he deserves, just like the one my
mother has had! I swore I'd give it to him, and I will!" Ashe could see
Jace slowly approaching Brada from behind.

Loudly he said, "You were happy just screwing things up for a long time,
weren't you? But everything started to fall apart when you told Walters
to kill Marilyn."

"It was too late when I realized she was a lot like me.

She just needed money ..." Goading her, Ashe said, "And then her mother.
She was just trying to help her little girl, like your mother did."

"Shut up!" Pushing, Ashe shouted, "And you're still helping Petroco,
aren't you, Brada? Still selling our secrets to the highest bidder!" She
was screaming, "You bet I am!" He yelled back, "And now you're going to
murder all of us, too? You're insane! Stop now while you still have a
chance!" Brada must have caught a glimpse of Jace, because she whirled
around. Ashe threw the knife just as she turned, but she still had time
to fire two rounds before it struck her in the back of her thigh.

Screaming, she fell, the gun still in her hand. Jace ran toward her, but
before he reached her, she turned the gun on herself. "One more step and
I'm going to blow my brains out. Get back!" Jace froze, staring first at
her, then at Ashe, who was moving slowly toward her from behind.

"I mean it! Get away from me!" Brada reached back with her free hand and
pulled the knife out of her thigh.

Ashe gently said, "Calm down, Brada. We'll get you help. There's no need
to do anything rash." With the gun still to her head, she stood and
turned to look at Ashe. Shaking her head, she said, "Sorry  ..." Just as
she pulled the trigger, Jace lunged at her. He knocked her to the ground
as the gun fired into the woods.

Ashe booted the gun away. from Brada, then grabbed her arms, twisting
them behind her.

"You filthy bastard!" Brada screamed. "Who do you think you are?" Jace
staggered to his feet. "A better person than you are, lady. You and
Walters deserve each other." Ashe turned to Dinell. "Can you bring me
something to tie her with?" Dinell nodded. "Gladly. Will duct tape do?"
Ashe said, "It'll do fine." Jace added, "Put some on her mouth while
you're at it." Brada struggled again, her eyes wild with fury. "I'll get
all of you. Just like Nathan. It may take me awhile, but you'll see ...
I'll never give up. Not until I throw dirt on your graves  ...  Never!"
Ashe slapped a piece of duct tape over her mouth, then bound her hands.
After bandaging her leg as best he could, he looked at Jace. "Do you
think you can watch her until I get back with the police?" Jace realized
the responsibility and trust Ashe was showing him, and he nodded. "You
bet I can." Rae watched the events unfold from inside the pickup, her
eyes barely over the edge of the driver's window. When Ashe taped
Brada's hands behind her back, Rae could hardly keep her eyes open. The
numbing shock of the night's events had taken their toll.

Ashe and Jace moved Brada toward the truck while Dinell ran down the
road to bring Brada's Jeep closer. Rae thanked God for the second time
in just a few hours that everyone was going to be all right. Except
Walters. Even though it was painful, she forced her eyes open and
shifted her weight far enough up in the seat to cast one last glance his
way.

But what she saw wasn't a dead body at all. In fact, his hands were free
and he had curled into a fetal position, his torso facing her. Just as
her eyes locked onto his, he struggled, then pulled a small handgun from
under his clothes.

The intensity of his eyes burned through her, and for a fleeting moment
she froze. But she felt no threat from his compelling gaze; instead it
held a plea for final justice. The instant he shifted his eyes away, the
trance was broken.

Jerking the door handle, Rae screamed as she fell to the ground, "Look
out, Ashe! He's got a gun!" The echo of gunfire overpowered her voice as
each of six shots rang through the still morning. Ashe raced toward
Walters, but the gun was empty by the time he kicked it away.

Rae rolled over in time to see Jace crawling back up, apparently
unharmed. As she turned over, a wave of pain ripped through her
shoulder, but it was overpowered by the warm rush of relief that washed
over her when she spotted Ashe, alive and well. Closing her eyes, she
sighed.

Brada had fallen backward from the impact of Walters' shots, and now she
was still, her eyes open but unseeing.

Ashe knelt beside Walters, feeling for a pulse. "He's dead," he said.

Jace squatted beside Brada. In a shaky voice he said, "She's dead, too.
Man, he hit her all six times. He didn't miss once. Ashe, are you sure
he's really dead? Absolutely, positively sure?" Feeling the strength of
Jace's fear even from a distance, Ashe checked for a pulse one last
time. "He won't bother you again, Jace. I swear." As Dinell helped Rae
stand, she weakly said, "He wasn't trying to hurt any of us. She was his
only target." Jace asked, "How in the world do you know that?" Rae
leaned against the truck. "It was in his eyes. He did what he felt he
had to do before he could leave." Skeptically Jace asked, "Leave? Like
go to heaven?" Dinell countered, "More like hell. I guess you're lucky
he decided to only take Brada with him." Jace stared in disbelief,
unable to absorb the grisly scene in which he stood. "But I tied his
hands. How could he  ..." Ashe held up a thin four-inch metal blade.
"This was next to him. He probably had it taped to his wrist, or maybe
it was in the cuff of his shirt. He had the gun in a soft pouch on his
chest. The guy really was a professional killer." Looking up, he spotted
Rae leaning against the truck with her eyes closed. Concern for her
consumed everything else as he rushed to her side.

Jace was still staring blankly at the bodies. Almost to himself he
asked, "Why do you suppose Walters said those things to Brada before she
shot him? Why would he push her like that when she had a gun pointing at
his head?" Ashes voice carried the urgency he felt as he answered, "I
think he wanted to die. Even if he survived the burns, he knew he'd
spend the rest of his life in prison." Cradling Rae in his arms, he
hurried to Brada's car.

After he rested Rae in the passenger seat, Ashe said, "Come on, you two.
I'll strap you on top if I have to, but no one is staying here. We'll
send the coroner and the police when we get to town. After Andy's
murder, and now this, I'll bet they'll pay us to drill somewhere else."
Neither Dinell nor Jace argued with Ashe when they crowded into the
CJ5's warm, snug backseat. Ashe turned the Jeep around and drove away.
Looking back in the rearview mirror, he saw the first rays of morning
sun break through the trees, washing patches of the muddy road in soft
light. Ashe shivered when he realized each body was cloaked in shadow,
as though nature knew their souls didn't deserve to bask in the dawning
light of day.

Jace leaned forward as they raced away. Touching Rae softly, he
whispered, "Don't forget those pancakes. We have a date, you know." Her
eyes were closed, but she mumbled, "Or the sausage, eggs, muffins  ...
Oh, and waffles. Belgium waffles buried under tons of whipped cream  ...
fresh strawberries  ..."

Chapter 20.


"I love you. Wake up so you can answer my question. Will you marry me?
Come on, I know you're just pretending to be asleep." Sherrie opened her
eyes at the sound of his voice. For two days she had drifted in and out
of the real world. Certain she was still dreaming, she closed her heavy
eyelids again.

"Come on, Sherrie, fight for it. I don't think I can handle another
rejection." This time her eyes cracked open, and she tried to focus.

Lifting her hand, she touched his face, which was only a few inches from
her own. "It is you. But how?"

"They let me out of jail this morning. Ashe, Rae, and Dinell managed to
convince the police that I was innocent, so here I am!" A look of horror
crossed Sherries face. "Oh, my God.

Brada! I've got to warn Ashe and Rae!" Nathan calmly said, "Brada's
dead. And so is Harvey Walters.

Apparently he was the one who actually killed Chuck Kelmar, then pinned
it on me." Sherrie pulled him to her and hugged him. "I knew it wasn't
you who killed him  ...  couldn't have been." He smiled. "So you think
I'm a wimp?"

"A wimp  ...  no. I'd never agree to move to California ... and marry a
wimp." "What?" Nathan asked skeptically.

"You have to promise to let me go back East whenever I want ...  to
visit, shop, catch the shows  ..." He kissed her, then said, "Okay, as
long as I don't have to come every time. But when the kids start coming
along, well, you know how hard traveling can be with babies." Sherrie
closed her eyes. As she drifted off, she contentedly asked, "What have I
gotten myself into?" Rae climbed into Ashes car with a newspaper tucked
under her arm. Excitedly she asked, "Did you see the story?"

"Not yet. Why don't you read it to me on the way?" After buckling her
seat belt, she opened the paper. "Do you mind if I just paraphrase?"
Running his hand provocatively up her thigh, he replied, "You can do
whatever you like." Rae smiled, shifting the paper so she wouldn't be
distracted by the sexy grin on his face. "The byline is Corbin White,
New York Times."

"I've heard other. Didn't she win a Pulitzer?"

"A few years ago. The gist of the story is that an unknown informant,
who we both know must have been Walters, tipped her that Petroco was
buying the rights to inventions that could minimize the world's
dependency on oil. To find out if it was true, they set up hidden
cameras and filmed a meeting with Karl Ross.

"It says the tape of their meeting will air tonight on Dateline. Corbin
told Ross she was a graduate student, and that she'd designed a
lightweight battery that could make solarpowered transportation much
more feasible. Apparently, he tried to buy her silence as well as her
invention." Ashe said, "Not surprising, considering what happened to
Marilyn."

"Corbin was working with the FBI, and they've agreed to release some of
the evidence accumulated by the unknown informant in return for her
cooperation."

"What did they do to Ross?"

"The police haven't done anything  ...  yet. Ross's participation in the
murders of Marilyn and her mother are being investigated, and his
position with Petroco seems to be rather shaky.

"Petroco's board of directors called a press conference to be certain
the public understood Ross was only the temporary president. They claim
they never intended for him to have the position permanently, and they
had always planned to announce his replacement next week." Rae crushed
the paper and added, "Amazing how fast the board is backing away from
him, isn't it? Really loyal to their employees, aren't they?"

"Doesn't surprise me a bit. They'll bounce back. Petroco always does."

"At least Walters hurt them a little. Their stock fell over twenty
dollars a share when this story broke."

"Did Nathan know how Brada might have gotten involved with Walters in
the first place?"

"He and Sherrie are pretty sure it was right after college.

Apparently, they met while she was working at Petroco.

You know, what amazed me the most was that neither of them ever seemed
to give a damn. They'd cost countless lives, hurt hundreds of people,
yet even when they knew they were going to die, they didn't stop
hating."

"That was probably the hardest thing I had to come to grips with after
the bombing. The senseless violence ate at me for a long time. Believe
it or not, a letter left on the memorial fence was what finally made me
let go of my hatred." Ashe squeezed her hand, the love in his eyes
urging her on.

"All it said was, "Our lives honor those lost here."

"And yours has. He'd be proud of you, Rae." She smiled, nodding as she
brushed a tear from the corner of her eye.

Ashe pulled into the driveway of a small house in a wellkept older
neighborhood. Looking at the address on a sheet of paper, he said, "I
think this is the right place. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she replied, and he knew it was true.

As Ashe was helping Rae out of the car, Jace raced toward them from the
front door. He carefully hugged Rae, then asked, "How's the shoulder?"
She cheerfully answered, "It'll be fine in a few weeks.

Is your arm still itching?" Jace rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, but
look what Mrs. Benton gave me." He rolled up his shirtsleeve and
carefully pulled a knitting needle out of his cast. "It's loose enough
for me to really scratch good with this thing. You gotta come in and
meet Mr. and Mrs. Benton." Ashe helped Rae up the concrete steps as he
whispered, "Did you hear that? Mr. and Mrs. Benton! He's actually being
polite!"

"Shhhh. They'll hear you!" Rae said as Jace led them into the living
room of the Benton home.

Jace said, "This is Ashe and Rae." George stood and shook their hands
while his wife nodded politely. Laughing, he said, "I'm George and this
is Alice. We've heard all the stories about you two  ...  at least ten
times!" Rae replied, "It was nice of you to help Jace so much."

"He's always welcome here," George said.

Jace explained, "Mama wants me to come home, but she knows it's better
if I stay in this neighborhood until I'm not on probation anymore.
Besides, being home reminds me too much of Cory."

"I think the judge was a wise man to suspend your sentence," Ashe said.
"Have you made up your mind about that RESCUE internship we talked over?"
Jace smiled and nodded. "Geothermal. I was tempted to do Solar/Wind, but
I think Geothermal is more exciting.

That Triplate design you showed me is awesome!" "Fantastic!" Rae said.

Ashe looked at him and asked skeptically, "So you're willing to work
days at RESCUE and go to school at night until you get your high school
diploma?" Jace frowned. "I've been thinking about that part a lot."
Shaking his head, Ashe said, "You know the offer is only good if you
stay in school." A wicked smile lit Jace's face. "Well, I was thinking
maybe high school wasn't enough. Maybe I'd try some college, too." Ashe
and Rae both smiled and hugged him.

"When can I start?" Rae grinned and said, "How about next week?"

"Great!"

"We've got to get you broken in before we drag you to New Mexico. But
don't worry. In a few weeks we'll be finished lobbying against the
Evans-Giles bill, and Dinell will be recovered from the surgery she had
to help her sister.

Then we're all going to the new HER site to break ground."

"No shit?" Jace exclaimed.

George roughly said, "Jace! We don't use language like that in this
house."

"Sorry, Mr. Benton." Jace stared at Ashe and Rae.

"What's wrong?" Rae asked.

"Nothing." Ashe said, "Come on, Jace. We've seen that look before."

"Are you sure we're all going to go?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Since you two are, uh  ...  involved  ..."

"What?" Rae impatiently asked, then suddenly realized the answer. "You
don't think that our dating is going to keep me from working at RESCUE,
do you?" Jace looked at the carpet, then at George, then out the window.
"When you were in the hospital, Ashe said it was too dangerous  ..."

"Jace Williams, I have no intention of quitting RESCUE, and even if I
decided to leave, I'd still want to spend time with you! And what's this
crap about it being too dangerous?" Reacting to the grimace on George's
face, she immediately corrected herself, saying, "Excuse me. What's all
this nonsense about it being too dangerous?" Sheepishly Ashe explained,
"Jace and I were talking while we waited for you outside the emergency
room." Glaring at Ashe, Rae snapped, "And you decided that women had no
business being on a well site?" Ashe answered, "Not exactly. Can't you
understand, I was worried about you? Being shot isn't exactly something
I'd like to put the woman I love through again." Rae visibly softened,
then said, "Okay. For now you're off the hook. But, Jace, surely after
all we've been through, you've learned that anyone, male or female,
black or white, can accomplish anything they really want to." Jace
nodded and smiled. "Only if they're willing to work hard, of course."
JODIE LARSEN found success in the corporate world as a certified public
accountant. She was a vice president of a multimillion-dollar gas
marketing company before she discovered her true love--writing. In spite
of her lifelong battle with asthma, she enjoys running and encourages
people to actively pursue their dreams. Jodie is a native of Tulsa,
Oklahoma, where she currently lives with her husband and two children.