The Second Ship Page 26

  “Gone. Anyway, it’s a cave and there has been some wet work in it. I want both bodies gone and the place wiped clean ASAP. Let the team know vehicles won’t make it out here. They’ll need a chopper.”

  “Got it.”

  “And they’ll need to clean Harry’s telephone company van, too.”

  “I’ll take care of that myself. Where is it?”

  “No. It’s parked too close to the McFarland home. I don’t want to risk your being seen. Let the boys do it, but tell them to hurry.” Jack rattled off the address where the van was parked.

  “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get the team out here. They’re in Santa Fe, but the chopper will have to come from Albuquerque.”

  “I want it done tonight, both places.”

  “Anything else?”

  “That’s it.”

  The phone disconnected as Janet terminated the call from her end. Jack knew she would be efficient. She always was.

  Jack glanced down at the young girl in his arms. Her pulse was steady, although shock had clearly set in, dropping her blood pressure to a dangerous level. Her head had a bloody welt where she had been struck, probably a slap across the face that bounced her head back against the rock wall. Jack wanted to get her to the emergency room as quickly as possible, so the doctors could get her stabilized. A concussion wasn’t usually deadly, but if there were other internal injuries, they could be.

  Jack reached his car, which was several blocks closer than the McFarland house, and gently laid Heather in the backseat, belting her prostrate form to the seat. Then, carefully stowing his holster and special equipment deep in some nearby bushes, he slid into the driver’s seat and fired the engine, sending the car roaring through the sleeping neighborhoods on its way toward the hospital.

  The Audi squealed to a stop in front of the emergency entrance. Within seconds, Jack lifted Heather’s limp form and walked into the emergency room. Two alert nurses grabbed a gurney and helped him lay her down, then wheeled her away. Another nurse looked at the blood-soaked rags knotted around his arm, her gaze then passing across his naked upper torso. Suddenly Jack was very glad that the emergency room was largely empty at this hour of this night.

  “Doctor, would you take a look at this man?”

  “Take care of the girl first,” Jack said.

  “She is already being looked at by another physician,” said the doctor, a young man who appeared to be an intern. “Since you can obviously walk, please follow me to the examination room.”

  Jack paused momentarily. “Nurse, the police are going to want to be involved in this incident. Also, please call Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert McFarland in White Rock. That’s their little girl in there. Her name is Heather.”

  “Sir.”

  “Yes.”

  “If you’ll give me your keys, I’ll have someone move your car and park it for you.”

  Jack reached into his pocket and set the key ring on the counter.

  The nurse's face tightened as if she were about to ask more questions, but Jack turned and followed the doctor from the room. Behind him, he could hear the nurse pick up the telephone and dial.

  The doctor’s office was a typical windowless room, just large enough for a bed-table and chairs. Jack took a seat on the table as the doctor retrieved some scissors from the cabinet and set to work cutting away the blood-encrusted scraps of his shirt.

  The doctor frowned at the long wound, which once again began bleeding freely. Grabbing a squirt bottle filled with Betadine, he poured it liberally over the arm and then scrubbed vigorously at the wound with some sterile pads, tossing them into a biohazard bin near his feet. Satisfied with the cleaning, he grabbed a needle, injected a deadening agent along the length of the cut, and set to work stitching.

  “That’s quite a cut there.”

  “Yes.”

  “It looks like you have had a few scrapes in your day.”

  Jack nodded. “I was an Army Ranger when I was younger. The short version of a long story is that I took a few bullets and managed to get myself captured.”

  “Most of those look like knife wounds.”

  “Yeah. Let’s just say that the Geneva Convention gets loosely interpreted in some parts of the world.”

  The intern’s eyes widened momentarily, and then he resumed his stitching. “I’m sorry. This is going to leave a scar.”

  Jack’s grin made the young doctor realize how absurd the statement was. He chuckled softly.

  “How’s the girl doing?” Jack asked.

  “I’ll check on her as soon as I’m done here.”

  Just as the doctor finished with the last of the sixty stitches, the police arrived, one officer heading off to check on Heather while the other approached Jack, now wearing an airy hospital gown in place of his shirt.

  Jack had barely started his statement when Gil and Anna McFarland arrived, panic-stricken looks on both their faces. They walked directly to the nurse's station, oblivious to Jack or the policeman at the side of the room.

  “We’re the McFarlands. You have our daughter here. How is she?” Mrs. McFarland’s voice broke.

  Just then, Jack’s doctor reappeared, making his way immediately up to Anna and Gil McFarland. “I am Doctor Forsythe. I just left your daughter’s room. She is in shock with a mild concussion and some minor scrapes and bruises. Otherwise, she’ll be just fine.”

  “Oh, thank God. Can we see her?”

  “In a few minutes, but you won’t be able to stay long. She just regained consciousness.”

  Anna McFarland turned and buried her head in her husband’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, her sobs coming in great shuddering bursts of relief.

  Suddenly Gil McFarland saw Jack and the policeman holding the clipboard. Gil grabbed Anna’s hand and led her toward them, his eyes both questioning and accusing.

  “Jack, what happened to our daughter?”

  Jack stood, glancing at the policeman, who nodded an okay.

  Jack’s story spilled from his lips, his hand shaking in a seemingly involuntary reaction as he spoke. He told how he was returning late from a water sampling survey down in one of the deep canyons near the McFarland house. As he reached his car he saw someone run into the woods carrying a small person’s body.

  Concerned, Jack had chased the guy, finally catching up to the man in the deep woods, a mile or so along. As Jack got close, he yelled for the man to stop, and the fellow had tossed Heather down, then turned to attack Jack. It was the Rag Man.

  Only Jack’s old army training had saved him, although he had taken a nasty cut on his arm. In the end, the Rag Man had run off, disappearing into the darkness. Jack had rushed Heather here as fast as he could.

  As he finished the tale, Anna McFarland threw her arms around Jack, hugging him hard enough that it threatened to break open his stitches.

  “Oh, Jack. Thank you so much for saving our little girl.” She kissed him firmly on the cheek, her tears leaving a wet saltiness that dripped into the corner of Jack’s mouth.

  As she released him, Gil McFarland stepped in and gave him another bear hug.

  Then the doctor interrupted. “Mr. and Mrs. McFarland, you can see your daughter now.”

  With one more grateful glance at Jack, the McFarlands turned and disappeared down the hall after the doctor.

  The policeman cleared his throat. “Now, Mr. Johnson. If you don’t mind sitting back down, let’s go through all this from the beginning, for my report. Then, if you don’t mind, I would like to have a look through your car.”

  “Certainly, officer.”

  Jack took a deep breath and began the story from the beginning, pausing to answer questions and to let the officer scribble notes onto the forms on his clipboard. It was going to be a very long night.

  64

  Here, well away from the dim light leaking from the cave, the moonlit semidarkness enfolded Mark, like the shimmering spectral shroud of a wraith. In the void left by Jack’s depar
ture, the silence of the night was complete. No wind, no chittering insects, no bird noises, nothing. It was as if all life in the vicinity sensed the presence of a hunter and remained frozen, hoping that through absolute stillness, a state of safe anonymity could be achieved.

  The silence of the night grew so loud it practically screamed at Mark. “Be still. Let that one go on his way. Do not draw his attention.”

  Thoughts raced through Mark’s mind in a torrent. Heather was alive. Jack’s actions, the gentle way in which he wrapped her carefully in his shirt and picked her up, reassured Mark. Jack had saved her from the Rag Man. Jack would get her to the hospital.

  Mark glanced back toward the cave and shuddered. The violence in Jack had shocked Mark to his core. Not that he cared that Jack had killed the Rag Man. Mark had come here to do that himself. But the way Jack had been able to overcome the incredible speed and strength the Rag Man had displayed. So efficient. So calm. So incredibly deadly. Undoubtedly Jack was a professional killer, but for whom? And why was he interested in the McFarland and Smythe families?

  The answers that came into his mind raised the hair on the back of his neck. If Jack was the kind of person the NSA had sent in response to their message, then they were neck-deep in shit.

  One thing was for sure: Mark needed to get back home before his parents were notified of Heather’s trauma and discovered him missing and Jennifer panicked.

  Jennifer. Shit. She was probably near a nervous breakdown by now.

  Having made up his mind, Mark turned away from the path taken by Jack, heading directly back toward his house along the way he had come, his powerful stride propelling him forward at a ground-burning run.

  He made his way through the front door so silently that Jennifer didn’t hear him, although he knew she was listening for his return. Not wanting to scare her to death, he paused outside the door to her bedroom, which remained open a fraction of an inch.

  His voice, barely a whisper, called out to her. “Jen, it’s me.”

  The door whisked open, and a small hand grabbed his arm, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him.

  “Tell me!” Jennifer’s face was drawn, her eyes red.

  “Heather is going to be okay.”

  “Going to be? Is she hurt badly? What happened? Where is she?”

  “It’s all right. I think she just passed out. Anyway, Jack Johnson took her to the hospital.” Mark was guessing this part, but it seemed a very likely guess.

  Jennifer looked confused. “Jack Johnson? From the McFarlands?”

  “Right. I ran as fast as I could. When I got close, it turned out to be a cave. Not our cave. Just a cave. The Rag Man had her chained to a wall.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “I was about to rush him when Jack charged in, pointing a gun at the Rag Man.”

  Mark continued on, working his way through the whole story, pausing many times to answer Jennifer’s questions. Although he covered all the important parts, Mark left out the details of exactly how Jack had killed the Rag Man, only telling her that he had killed the maniac with a knife.

  “Are you sure he is dead?”

  “They don’t get any deader. Jack made sure of that.”

  “But how? Jack against the Rag Man?”

  “Believe me, Jack Johnson, or whatever his real name is, is no EPA man. From what I saw, he’s a professional killer, an agent for somebody. I’m thinking NSA, although he could be working for Stephenson and therefore the Rho Ship.”

  “But he saved Heather.”

  Mark paused, reflecting on how gently Jack covered Heather with his own shirt. “Yes, he did.”

  Jennifer sat back on her bed, piling the pillows high behind her. “So Jack is one of the good guys.”

  “Listen, I want to think so. It sure looked like he was sincere, and he got cut up bad protecting her. But we still have to assume that if he finds out about us and the Second Ship, he’ll turn us in. In a heartbeat. And I wouldn’t blame him.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Then we’re just going to have to be careful around him and Janet.”

  Mark raised an eyebrow. “Janet? What has she got to do with anything?”

  “Oh, so you just assume that a professional killer agent of the United States government brings his civilian wife along for the ride? Mark, think about it. She has to be an agent too.”

  Mark frowned. “I don’t know about that.”

  “Let your brain do your thinking instead of your crotch. It makes sense.”

  Mark shrugged. “I just think we should keep an open mind about Janet, that’s all.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Anyway, the only thing for us to do right now is try to get some sleep. Once Heather is in the hospital, the McFarlands will find out. They’ll call Mom and Dad when they get a chance. Then we’ll get to see her.”

  “So, in the meantime, we should just hang tight?”

  “You’ve got it.”

  Jennifer bit her lower lip. “I guess there’s nothing else we can do.”

  “Nope.” Mark opened her door, then paused to look at Jennifer. “Sis, it’s going to be okay. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Jennifer nodded, then reached over and switched off her lamp.

  “Good night.”

  Despite the stress that had built to a painful tension in his neck, Mark was asleep as his head hit the pillow. He awoke to his father’s hand shaking him.

  “What?”

  “Mark, wake up, Son. We need to go to the hospital. Heather’s been hurt.”

  Mark sat up. “Hurt? How?”

  “I don’t know the details. We just got a call from the McFarlands. They spent the night at the hospital. They said that Heather is going to be all right, but they wanted to let us know what was going on.”

  Mark slid out of bed and into his robe. “I’ll get through the shower and be right down, Dad.”

  “You'll have to wait a bit. The showers are booked with your mom and sister.”

  Mark looked into his father’s eyes. “Did they tell you how she got hurt?”

  “No, they just said she had a concussion. It was a little odd. Anyway, they said they’d tell us the whole story once we arrive.”

  “What time is it, anyway?”

  “It’s almost nine. It’ll be ten before we get Jen and your mom ready and get over there. Come on down and have a cup of coffee with me while you wait for a shower to free up.”

  “Okay. Give me just a sec, then I’ll be right down.”

  “I’ll pour you a cup. See you in a minute.”

  “Sure thing, Dad.”

  As his father left the room, Mark sat back on his bed. So Heather was truly okay. Despite convincing himself last night that Jack would get her to the hospital, a wave of relief swept over him. All night, in his dreams, he had looked for Heather and had been unable to find her. He felt more tired now than when he went to bed.

  Arriving at the hospital, the Smythes paraded up to the information station. By the time they had gotten the information on Heather’s room number, Mark’s anticipation level had risen to the point that he could barely contain himself.

  He just wanted to see her, to hug her, to tell her how glad he was that she was safe. He was as nervous as a boy before his first date, a thought that both amazed and mortified him. After all, this was Heather, the friend he had known all his life.

  As he and his family meandered through the hospital corridors, Mark thought about what he would say to her. Certainly, the tale of how Jack had killed the Rag Man would have to wait. On this visit, he would just be there for her, just let her know how much he cared.

  Arriving outside the door to her room slightly ahead of the others, Mark could not contain his grin. As he entered the room, his grin froze. There, sitting in a chair pulled up next to Heather’s bed, both hands gently holding Heather’s, sat Raul Rodriguez.

  65

  Jack stepped out of the Audi into the cold morning air, his breath p
uffing out in a cloud. Glancing up and down the street, he walked over to the bushes where he had stashed his weapon and goggles. He grabbed the shoulder holster and returned to the car, tossing it onto the floorboard on the passenger side as he slid into the driver’s seat.

  The morning sky was a brilliant blue, and traffic was light at this early hour, making for what should have been a pleasant morning drive. But Jack was tired, he had a headache, and he had a to-do list in his head that meant he wouldn’t get to bed for a good long while yet. Oh well, what else was new? They had never promised him a cushy office job.

  Jack pulled into the carport next to Janet’s little blue sedan, grabbed his things, and walked into the house. Janet glanced up at him from the kitchen table where she sat cradling a steaming mug of coffee.

  “Nice outfit.”

  Jack glanced down and nodded. They had given him one of those off-white hospital robes to wear as a shirt, and he had tucked it into his black corduroy pants. At least they used to be black. Yesterday had left them torn in several places and stained with a variety of fluids. The ensemble was augmented by the bandages down his left arm.

  “Thank you.” Jack grabbed a mug from the cabinet, paused at the coffee pot to fill it, and then sat at the table with Janet. “The cleanup?”

  She shrugged. “They had a bit of trouble. The cave is spic’n’span, but the police had already towed the van.”

  “And?”

  “Our team didn’t have any trouble getting to it in the impound yard. No problem recovering most of the special gear. But Harry’s clothes and the laptop had been moved to the evidence room.”

  “Damn it. Anyone they could get to on the inside?”

  “Not in a way you’ll like. The night shift at the station had pretty good records. Our guys did manage to bribe one of them, who had some heavy debts he was struggling with.”

  “So they got it?”

  “No. That’s the bad news. He balked at taking the laptop out of the cage. Was scared that someone would be on to him. So the team got him to insert a floppy disk, boot the computer, and leave it running.”

  “Shit. They wiped it?”

  “Had to. It was that or storm the station. They figured we didn’t need that kind of attention.”