I stumbled across the hardwood floor, leaving a trail of blood in my wake. Stopping behind the desk, I rummaged through its contents. Like the desktop, the drawers were neatly organized. Finding nothing inside, I turned around and examined the bookshelf.
Hundreds of thin binders, labeled in neat black lettering, filled the shelves. I selected one at random and opened it up. The first page indicated that the book summarized the cleanup of an oil spill during the Persian Gulf War. I returned it to the shelf.
For the most part, Chase seemed like a neat, orderly person, albeit one prone to fits of insanity. With that in mind, I started at the beginning of the binders and systematically searched through them by date.
I passed through two dozen binders before I came across one labeled, “Operation Die Glocke.”
My tired fingers shook as I retrieved it from the bookcase. The binder was old and worn. It looked like it had been read dozens if not hundreds of times. I sagged into Chase’s chair and took my flashlight out of my satchel.
I read page after page, record after record. And soon, the entire story began to emerge in front of my fatigued eyes.
Sam Rictor was indeed a traitor. He’d reached out to ShadowFire, which was still in its infancy at that time, with an offer to sell them the Bell. Based on some sort of sample or demonstration, Chase offered to pay him a million dollars upfront with five million more upon delivery.
I flipped back and forth a couple of pages. A description of the Bell and its purpose was absent from the binder. I wondered if I was looking at whitewashed records, designed to protect Chase in the event of a raid.
I flipped another page. My eyes widened. The page didn’t have anything to do with the Bell. Instead, a photograph of a subway car was taped to the top of the paper. Underneath it, a box of text provided all sorts of information such as year built, conductor controls, and propulsion.
I studied the photograph. The subway car was unlike any I’d seen of that era. In fact, I’d never seen anything like it in my entire life. It wasn’t covered with graffiti and faded, peeling paint. Instead, it was sleek and painted silver. On the side, tall black letters spelled out a word.
Omega.
Jenson mentioned something called the Omega. Maybe he wasn’t delirious after all.
I flipped another page and continued to read. Soon, the importance of the Omega became clear. After Rictor disappeared, Chase started a massive investigation to find him. In the process, he discovered that Rictor secured the Omega on the evening of March 6, 1976, presumably as a transport vehicle to move the Bell out of the lab.
I flipped more pages. The final notations were handwritten and confusing. From what I could gather, the Omega, along with Rictor and the Bell, had vanished completely into thin air.
Abruptly, the door opened.
Apprehension crept over me, oozing its way through my veins. The light flicked on. Holding my breath, I whirled around and found myself staring into familiar eyes.
Standish.
He strolled into the room. “Well, well, well. It looks like I won’t have to track you down after all. I can just kill you right here.”
Chapter 33
Standish reached to his waist and removed a 9 mm.
The gun rose, pointed in my direction.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
“Hold it,” I said loudly. “You don’t want to do that.”
Suddenly, Jack Chase walked into the room, surrounded by shadows. He looked bony, wiry, and tired. He wore a well-tailored black suit, a dark blue tie and white gloves over his hands. He looked similar to the last time I’d seen him with every inch of his body, save for his face, covered with clothing.
Immediately, he pulled out his Smith & Wesson. “Cyclone? How the hell did you get in here?”
“Never mind that. Tell your goon to lower his gun.”
“Or what?”
“Or you’ll never get Hartek’s journal.”
“Ryan,” Chase said sharply. “Do as he says.”
Standish’s eyes bulged. “He’s lying, Jack.”
“I’m not lying. I hid the journal. If you kill me, you’ll never find it.”
Chase shrugged. “I’ll play along. For now. Stand up and remove your weapons. Place them on the desk.”
Thunder crashed. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a bolt of lightning shoot across the sky. Raindrops poured through the broken window. A small puddle formed on the floor and swiftly grew in size.
I’d convinced Beverly to wait for me in the tunnels until I finished in ShadowFire’s headquarters. We were supposed to meet later that evening. That meant she wasn’t following Chase or Standish.
Which meant I was on my own.
I paused for a moment, debating my chances of grabbing my pistol and blasting holes right through their foreheads. But no matter which way I ran the scenario in my mind, it always ended the same way…with me bleeding out on the floor.
Standing up, I took my gun from my holster and tossed it carelessly on the desk. “Happy?”
“The machete too. And put everything into your bag.”
I did as he requested, stuffing my weapons into the satchel and placing it on the desk.
“Ryan,” Chase said. “Get the bag.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Jack. Just let me kill him now and be done with it.”
“Not yet.”
“But…”
“But nothing. Get his bag. Then pat him down and make sure he doesn’t have the journal on him. Afterward, I need you to leave us alone for a few minutes.”
“Jack…”
“Now.”
Standish clenched his jaw in fury. But he moved toward me anyway, keeping his 9 mm trained on my forehead. Upon reaching the desk, he retrieved my bag.
“Spread your legs and bend over,” he said. “And place your palms on the desk.”
I obliged. His hands swept across my legs, feeling every inch of them. I glanced over my shoulder. “Could you hurry this up? The grown-ups have to talk.”
The butt of his gun crashed into my forehead. I winced and fell to a knee, feeling blood trickle down my face. Another wave of dizziness came over me. But again, I didn’t notice any headaches or discoloration in my vision. I was so used to battling episodes while under stress that I found myself thrown off-balance by their absences.
As the dizziness vanished, I saw Standish striding toward the door, my bag in his hands. “Hold onto that for me,” I called out. “I’ll be coming for it real soon.”
Standish didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he walked out the door and slammed it shut behind him. The entire room rattled slightly but one noise rose above the rest. It sounded like trembling glass.
But it wasn’t coming from the broken window. It was coming from the side of the room. Immediately, I recalled the case full of antique guns.
There were dozens of ways I could attempt to smash the glass. However, Chase was armed. Retrieving a gun under such circumstances would prove nearly impossible. And even if I got my hands on one, there was a strong chance it wouldn’t be loaded.
I lifted myself into Chase’s chair and propped my legs on the desk. “Is this really the most comfortable chair you could afford? Because…”
“I see you’ve been doing some reading.”
I glanced at the Operation Die Glocke binder. “Yeah, it’s an interesting story actually. It’s about this guy named Jack Chase. He struck a deal to buy a weapon but ended up paying a million dollars for nothing. The weapon slipped through his fingers and the rest of the world lived a happy ending.”