Plot counterplot, p.39
Plot/Counterplot, page 39
Dylan exchanged a glance with her. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Good. Probably still a few of Xavier’s men left out there. Be careful about opening the door.”
“One thing first.” Dylan returned to the control panel.
While Dylan worked, Leilani did a full circle. “Something’s happening outside.”
“Don’t worry. I—”
The explosion was thunderous. It deafened them and sent them tumbling to the floor.
The titanium-slab door opened. And a few moments later, when his hearing returned, Dylan detected movement.
A second later, three of Xavier’s men raced through the entrance, rifles aimed and ready.
“Think a minute before you fire,” Dylan said. The men formed a semi-circle around him. “I don’t know why you’re involved in this operation, but I can tell you this. There will be no payroll at the end of the month.”
They stopped, looked at one another, eyes questioning.
“The Supervisor is dead. Xavier is dead. The operation is over.”
Mr. X stepped forward. “He’s telling the truth.”
Kalifa sharpened his aim. “We can still kill you. Both of you, if necessary.”
“That’s true,” Dylan replied. “You can. But there’s something else you need to know.” He gestured toward the control panel. “I’m determined to make sure this weapon is never used again. By anyone. We’re not ready to have this kind of power, and we probably never will be. That means I have to not only take out the super-collider—I have to take out the whole cavern. The geophysical anomaly. So I’ve restarted the weapon, and this time, the target is itself. I’ve triggered a timed-release fire so I don’t actually have to be here pushing a button. I’m going to make this weapon disappear. But that will eliminate a lot of structural supports, which will probably trigger a massive collapse. This whole place is going down in...” He glanced at the panel. “Four minutes, I think. But given the time reversal effect, I can’t be entirely sure. So do you want to stay here and die? Kill me to accomplish nothing for masters who are dead? Or do you want to run and have a slight chance of seeing tomorrow?”
They only considered a moment. “It’s over,” Kalifa said, throwing down his rifle and heading out. The others followed, including Marco.
Dylan ran to Leilani’s side. “Come on.” He looked at Seamus.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve been in worse shape. Let’s go!”
He was grateful Bobby had fixed the elevator. They returned to the surface and ran for cover. They were barely out of the complex when he heard the sizzling sound that told him the weapon was firing, this time with far more power and intensity than before.
The sky exploded with a brilliant burst of light. “Close your eyes!” He clenched his eyes shut to protect them from the intense glare. He could still tell the light was shifting, first to gold, then to a bright purple. A thunderous sonic boom shook the ground, followed by a fiery roar. A moment later, a tornado-like burst of wind knocked him to his feet. He fell forward, cradling and protecting Leilani.
He slowly opened his eyes and glanced behind him.
The base was gone. Totally gone, as if it had never been. And a huge chunk of the surrounding volcano was missing as well.
The ground rumbled beneath his feet. This was going to be bad. The sudden destabilization affected the entire area.
Seamus leaned out from behind a semi-trailer truck. “Get back here!”
Dylan carried Leilani behind the semi before the next explosion came. The boom seemed loud enough to shatter their eardrums. Half the volcano appeared to implode Magma flew up. Debris thudded against the opposite side of the truck. The ground felt as if it might crumble beneath their feet at any moment. Another explosion followed, then another. The explosions were like popcorn kernels in a hot pan. Once one burst, it triggered another, then another, each bigger than the one before.
They clung to the side of the semi, hoping it wouldn’t fall on them. Leilani wrapped herself tightly around Dylan.
“This is going to get worse before it gets better,” he said. “We need to move further away.”
He grabbed Leilani’s hand and ran, Seamus close behind. Barely seconds later, they heard the semi slide backward into a newborn chasm. The sky was filled with a pyrotechnic display. Magma-based fireballs crashed around them like meteorites.
“Keep running!” Dylan shouted. “Don’t stop!”
They reached the crest of a rocky promontory and dove. Behind them, the entire area disintegrated. Smoke and dust rose in huge clouds, making it hard to see and harder to breathe. Dylan and Leilani clung to the ground, hoping Mother Nature’s revenge was over.
He heard screaming. Someone was trapped in that unfolding disaster—but still alive.
“You stay here,” he told Leilani.
“Dylan, no! It isn’t safe.”
He was already gone, sprinting back the way he came, toward the nearest crater. It was a long shot, but there’d been so much death, so much carnage. If he could save one life, it was worth the risk. He pushed his legs to the maximum, using all his remaining strength to get there as quickly as possible.
He slowed as he reached the crater. Someone clung desperately with both hands to the rim.
Dylan reached down. “Grab my—”
He stopped.
It was Marco.
“Help me!” he screamed.
Dylan’s hand wavered. “Give me one good reason why I should.”
“It’s—It’s what Fargo Cody would do!” He stared upward, eyes wide. His hands were slipping. He was barely hanging on by his fingertips.
“Do you remember what I said, when you hurt Leilani. Do you remember what I promised?”
“Help me. Please!”
Dylan’s eyes were as cold as he felt. He raised his foot and kicked Marco in the head. Marco lost his grip and tumbled into the abyss, screaming as he plummeted out of sight.
I’m not Fargo Cody, Dylan thought as he watched the man fall. I’m stronger than Fargo Cody.
Dylan raced back to safety. The crater was spreading, widening. There was no way of knowing how far it would go, how long he would have to run before it stopped.
Seamus was with Leilani. Together, they all kept running until at last the explosions stopped. There was a moment of eerie silence, followed by an ominous rumbling.
“It’s over,” Dylan said. “I think. The weapon and the cavern are gone. Destroyed. Forever.”
“Good,” Seamus replied. “I don’t think the world needs any gateways to alternate universes.”
Leilani laid a hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “Were you able to save...?”
“No,” he replied, without explanation.
Dylan peered into the distance. A gigantic sinkhole had formed, as if some subterranean vacuum had sucked the earth away, leaving an enormous canyon in its wake.
“Everyone okay?” he asked.
Seamus was lying down, still clutching his attaché. “Depends on how you define ‘okay.’ I made it out alive.”
“What the hell is in that damned case that’s so important, anyway?” Leilani asked. “You carry it with you everywhere.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Dylan said.
“Funny you should ask,” Seamus said, sitting up, favoring his wounded shoulder. “Because I’ve been waiting a long time to tell you...”
The Afterglow
“No matter how much we try to convince ourselves differently, no book is ever truly finished.”
Ernest Hemingway
Chapter 88
One Week Later
Dylan tried to get comfortable in the chair opposite Seamus’s desk at the NCTC, but it was a challenge. His body had taken too much damage. His ribs were wrapped but he was still broken and bruised and aching in places he never knew had muscles. It would be a long time before he fully recovered.
And he didn’t care. He was glad to be free, in any condition. After they left Kohala, the NCTC, the Navy, and various other agencies had put him through an endless series of debriefings and rebriefings. Over the course of the week, as additional evidence was gathered, he’d had the pleasure of watching their initial disbelief turn into stunned acceptance.
And now it was over. Seamus was cutting him loose. To reclaim his life. To go home, see friends.
And to visit Dobie’s grave.
He had to focus on the freedom. Not to be a writer. Fargo Cody was over. He wanted to reclaim Dylan Taggart, the human being.
“We found their headquarters. Base. Hideout. Whatever you call it,” Seamus explained. “Once you told us it had been constructed from an abandoned Navy post, the possibilities became much more manageable. Turns out, you hadn’t gone far. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived, there was not much left.”
“Felix? Tolga?”
“Probably not their real names. Nowhere to be found.”
Dylan found himself feeling almost nostalgic about them. Criminals, yes. But they’d worked together as a team. And they’d worked well.
“We did snagMikala, though. Thanks to you vouching for her, there will be no charges. She’s been returned to her home. Her father is safe. I asked if she wanted to speak to you, but...she passed.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t. She owes you a great deal. You saved her life.”
“After I endangered her.” He lowered his eyes. “I used her as a pawn in my chess game.”
“The important thing is,” Seamus said, coughing into his hand, “the secret cabal has been exposed. We’ve traced the funds that were embezzled from the military to finance the operation.” Dylan noticed the charitable shift to passive voice. “There won’t be any more insider plots to steal super-weapons. At least not from that source.”
“No trace of Mr. X?”
“No. She disappeared during the explosion. Probably killed.”
“I doubt it. She’s too smart to die so stupidly.” He thought a moment. “I hope she’s happier in...whatever life she constructs for herself next. And I hope that with Karelis and Scheimer dead and the geophysical anomaly destroyed, that will be the end of that superweapon.”
“I hope so, too.” Seamus didn’t have to add the rest. History told them that if enough minds worked hard enough on any scientific problem—eventually they would solve it. If people wanted this weapon badly enough, they would find a way to recreate it. Even without the Kohala anomaly.
Seamus changed the subject. “You know they were drugging you.”
“They were trying. I didn’t eat any more than necessary. I didn’t sleep in my bed, so I didn’t inhale the gas or hear the subliminal messages. I only drank from a bottle. They were trying to induce the Stockholm Syndrome. Make me feel I was one of them. After they staged Bobby’s death, I let them think they’d won. Think I joined them. Most of them believed it.” He stopped. “And then I really did kill Bobby.”
“You acted in self-defense. And don’t lose any sleep over Marco. Or Xavier, either. He was first-class scum.”
“You and he have history.”
“Yes.” Seamus’s eyes seemed to lose focus for a moment. “He held me responsible for the death of his family. So he took his revenge. He tracked down my home, my family. My wife. She wasn’t happy. She was an easy target. Started an affair that got more crude, more violent as it progressed. Eventually became so degrading it robbed Ingrid of every ounce of self-esteem. She left me, then embarked upon a long string of cheap, meaningless affairs. Every time I move, she follows. Like she wants me to see, wants me to be reminded of what she’s become. And I...” Seamus slowly drew in his breath. “Well. I can’t really blame her.”
“Love makes you vulnerable.”
“Yes,” Seamus said quietly. “Every damn one of us.” He smiled abruptly. “You should be proud of yourself, Dylan. You did an incredible thing here, against insurmountable odds. You brought down a major terrorist organization, one that was totally off the intelligence radar. They were pros. But you beat them. You outsmarted them.”
Dylan shook his head. “I didn’t, really. I just...” He paused. “I wrote a better story.” He paused. “I want to thank you, Seamus. For chasing all over the islands to find me. I appreciate it. Obviously. I wouldn’t be alive now if not for you. Xavier would’ve killed me. Or if not him, his men.”
“Your tax dollars at work.”
“A bit more than that, I think.”
“I couldn’t let one of Hawaii’s greatest cultural treasures be co-opted by a bunch of wannabe revolutionaries, could I?”
“You could. But I’m glad you didn’t.” Dylan reached for his messenger bag. “I have a little something for you. To show my appreciation.”
Seamus waved his hands in the air. “That’s not necessary. I was just—”
He stared at the tall stack of paper now resting on the edge of his desk. “You read my manuscript!”
“I had a strong suspicion I would find paper in that attaché of yours. I’ve seen the hungry look of the aspiring writer many times before.”
“You seriously read my manuscript?”
“Better than that. I line-edited it.”
Seamus gasped.
“From start to finish. And let me tell you something. It’s good.”
“You’re just saying that because I saved your life.”
“No, I just edited it because you saved my life. The book is solid.”
Seamus picked up the manuscript and hugged it to his chest. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
“Least I could do.”
“No,” Seamus replied. “The most.”
Chapter 89
Dylan rolled over on his side, wrapping his arms around Leilani, squeezing her tightly.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for that,” he said.
“You have.” Leilani’s lips turned up at the edges. “Think about me.”
So much time had passed since he’d seen her, much less in bed, unclothed, with that radiant expression on her face. He’d almost forgotten how good his life really was—when he didn’t have terrorists and psychopaths trying to control his every move. She was a gloriously beautiful woman. Especially now, wearing nothing but the splint around her twisted ankle.
“Leilani—I’m sorry. For what happened.”
“You didn’t do it.”
“I couldn’t stop it.”
“No, you couldn’t. And just for the record, I don’t think anyone could have. Not you. Not Seamus. Not Fargo Cody. No one.”
“You’re kind. But the fact is—I failed you.”
She sat up and took his head in her hands. “If you’d given up, that would’ve been failure. But you never did. No matter what they did to you. That’s why you’re a hero. My hero.”
Dylan pressed a hand against hers but said nothing.
“I know what’s bothering you. It’s your father. That bitter old hardass has plagued you your entire life, and now he’s got a new way of getting to you when you’re most vulnerable. You’re worried that he’ll say you failed, that you were weak. That he’ll be hateful when he finds out—what you did to Bobby.” She inhaled deeply. “When are you going to understand this, Dylan. He doesn’t know who you are. He never did. And that’s not because you’re so unfathomable, either. It’s because he doesn’t want to. You don’t fit into his tidy, tiny little world view. That’s his problem, not yours.”
She pressed his hand to her breast. “But I get you. And I love you. That’s why I worked with Seamus to track you down. Because a love like ours is a gift. And when God gives you a gift like that, you don’t let it slip through your fingers. You fight for it.”
“You are definitely a fighter.”
“Damn straight. I’ll always be in your corner. Come what may.”
“And I’ll be in yours.”
They held each other for a long moment.
“Good,” she said, rolling over. “Now that we’ve got that settled, come over here and show me some more of your genius. Read me like a book. Send me into orbit.”
“But we just—”
“We’re making up for lost time, lover boy. And we’re starting a family, remember?” She pulled close and kissed him for a very long time.
* * *
Dylan had been staring out the window since he awoke, not sure what to do with himself. Leilani was deep asleep. When he first returned home, he felt as if he had the world at his fingertips. And ever since then, he’d watched his options become either non-existent or overwhelming. Trying to put a life back together after all he had been through.
Something was missing. He’d tried writing, but didn’t know what to say. Fargo Cody had been a joke, a cheat. Just as his own life had been. Maybe God was a novelist, and he was just an undeveloped character in a potboiler who only thought he was real.
He sat down in front of his computer and wrote: The bitter subzero wind chilled Dr. Scheimer—but not nearly so much as the thought of what they were about to do....
No. Maybe later. Not now. Dylan stared out the window, watching the tide roll in, weighted down with inertia, utterly unsure what to do next.
Until his cellphone buzzed.
“Seamus?”
“Hope you don’t mind my calling so early. What are you doing?”
“Staying busy. You know how it is. Tons to do. Catching up.”
“I can imagine. Writing anything?”
“No, not...I don’t know...I just...no.”
“Look, I don’t want to take up your time, but I had this thought. Crazy notion. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’ve been reviewing the NCTC ops reports for the past month and—how can I say this? They’re pathetic.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m convinced that if most of our nation’s enemies weren’t so poorly organized and underfinanced, we wouldn’t stand a chance. There’s something going on in Pakistan right now and no one knows a damn thing about it. We need to get an agent in to infiltrate their military, but no one can figure out how to do it.”
