“We have to find Jason. And we have to do it now.” O’Brien headed out, noticing the rain had stopped.
“Where are you going?” Lauren asked
“The next place these freaks will be, Dave’s locker. You’re right, Nick. Now it looks a hell of a lot like Davy Jones locker.”
“I’m goin’ with you,” Nick said.
Thompson stood. “No! You can’t go alone!”
O’Brien was already gone.
Yuri Volkow looked at the ball ping hammer and said, “Very effective little tool.”
“What are you gonna do?” Jason’s voice cracked.
“This hammer is small,” Volkow said. “However, it can do large damage. Because the steel head is small, I can tap certain vertebra on your spinal column with just enough force to cause severe pain. And, you will never heal properly. Your bones will be fused. You will never be able to bend over to tie your shoes. Your ability to make love with a woman will be greatly diminished.”
“Please ….”
“Get him out of the chair, Andrei. Rip the shirt off his back.”
“Wait!” Jason shouted. “You don’t need the numbers.”
“What do you mean?”
“The canisters aren’t on the bottom of the ocean anymore.”
“Where are they?”
“Here! Sean and Nick brought them up. They put them in a warehouse.”
“What warehouse?”
“It’s called Ponce Storage in Dunlawton.”
“Which room?”
“Number’s U-236. Same number that’s on the sub.”
Yuri turned his head like a cat looking at a goldfish in a bowl. He smiled, teeth barely visible, a web of saliva in the corner of his small mouth. “Excellent. You are proving to be valuable. My father wasn’t much older than you when they killed him.”
“Who killed him?”
“Your people, Americans.”
Jason stammered. “Look, there’s a lot more of that uranium.”
“Where?”
“Sean O’Brien knows. He met this woman and her grandmother. The grandmother told him in 1945 her husband, a guy about my age, saw the Germans bury a bunch of canisters like the ones we found.”
“Where?
“On the beach. Near here. Sean thinks he knows the location.”
Yuri walked around Jason’s chair. “Is O’Brien’s number on your cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Is O’Brien a good friend of yours?”
“Yes … he’s there for me. And he knows my mom real well.”
“Let us see if he will be there for you now. We will discover if he thinks your life is worth more than that of the German cargo buried in a hole in 1945.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
O’Brien thought about Maggie Canfield, the look on her face the morning she stepped on his boat after a twenty-year absence and, again, last night in the parking lot when he was walking Max. Then he pictured Jason, pushing images of torture from his mind. He drove his Jeep more than eighty-miles-per-hour in a forty-five zone. Nick tightened his seat belt. “This is a hellava way to make me never drink again. You don’t have to kill me!”
“I should,” O’Brien said.
“Yeah, man, you should. I really screwed up, runnin’ my mouth. Jason overhearing what I-”
“Let’s move on, Nick. We can’t change it. We can try to salvage what we have left, beginning with Jason’s life and maybe a couple million more.”
O’Brien’s cell rang. It was Maggie Canfield. “Sean, dear God! Where's Jason? I just saw the news. Nicole's dead! Jason's missing! Sean, please tell me Jason's alive! ”
“Maggie, listen to me. Jason's been kidnapped-”
“Kidnapped! Who? Who took my son?”
“I'm not certain. But I am certain of this-I will find him. Trust me.”
“Bring him back to me, please Sean. He's all I have.” Her voice cracked, deep sobs coming through the phone.
“I have to go, Maggie. I'll find Jason, I promise you.” He disconnected and felt his pulse hammer in his temples, his lips dry, stomach churning.
“Sean, man I'm so damn sorry,” Nick said, running a hand through his dark hair. “Look, I'll fight these bastards with you-”
O'Brien's cell rang again. He recognized the number. It was one of two on Jason’s cell phone the day they found the sub. It was someone whom Jason had called from Jupiter. The man said, “Sean O’Brien.”
“Who’s this?”
“You and I met. Eric Hunter, remember me?”
“How’d you get this number?”
“Jason gave it to me. I thought I might send you two some business.”
“I’m a little busy right now.”
“Look, Mr. O’Brien, I’m the kind of guy that gets to the chase real fast. I saw the news. Jason’s in deep trouble. I want to help you find him.”
“I have no idea where he is. You’re better off working with the police.”
“We both know Jason has little time left. Depending on what the kidnappers want, his life is protected only by the time it takes them to get the info out of him.”
“No thanks. I never liked riding with a posse.”
“Jason was kidnapped by two men.”
“How do you know that?”
“Across the street from Chapman’s is a church. A homeless man was on a bus stop bench. He was waiting for the church to open its soup kitchen. I sat down on the bench next to him and asked him if he saw anything. Said he saw two men toss a guy in a van and peel off.”
“Why didn’t he tell the police?”
“Because they didn’t bother to ask him.”
“How do we know this homeless guy is telling the truth?”
“Chapman’s lot is covered by a security camera, north end. When the detectives go through the hard drive, they’ll see what the homeless man saw. But, by then, it might be too late for Jason. Whether you like it or not, you need my help.”
Dave Collins drove with operative Paul Thompson on the passenger side of the car and FBI agents Lauren Miles and Ron Bridges in the backseat. Dave said, “We’re not far from the storage units. Sean may be there by now. I’d suggest calling the local authorities. Have the bells and whistles sounding. That may ward off any hostiles approaching the target area.”
Lauren said, “We don’t know if the hostiles have found out the location of the HEU. They certainly don’t know we’re headed there.”
“I agree,” Thompson said. “Our first objective is to secure the HEU and remove it. The second is to capture the hostiles. If we can manage to do both at the same time, great. I have back-up coming. The armored truck is on the way from Orlando. Jet is on stand-by. I hope your pal, O’Brien, doesn’t screw this up.”
“Sean won’t screw it up,” Dave said. “Trust me. He’s one of the best.”
“I don’t like his rebel style.”
Lauren said, “It’s not a style with Sean, it’s a talent-”
“All we have to worry about is O’Brien’s Greek friend doing something dumb.”
O’Brien looked in his rearview mirror and saw the driver trying to stay far enough behind but making the last three turns he had made. “Nick, we have a tail.”
“What?”
“Don’t look back! Two guys. Black Lexus. Following us since we hit A1A.”
“Can you lose them?”
“Maybe.” O’Brien cut the wheel and drove though a convenience store parking lot. He pulled out onto Atlantic Boulevard, hooked a quick left on Silver Beach and a fast right on Beach Street. He gunned the Jeep, and as he was cresting a slight incline, he could see the Lexus turn onto Beach. “These guys are good.”
“How good?”
“Good enough that I’m going to have to do something to shake them.”
“Oh shit,” Nick tightened his seatbelt.
“Yeah.” O’Brien made a sharp left, stopping at a long line of cars.
“Holly mother!” Nick shouted. The sound of multiple sirens seemed to converge from all four corners.
“Looks like a bad wreck,” O’Brien said.
The intersection was blocked by a dozen police cars and emergency vehicles. O’Brien looked in the rearview mirror. “They’re three cars back. Damn!”
“What do we do?”
“Whatever we have to do.”