Deep Disclosure Page 10

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have thought about what I was saying—how I was saying it.”

  She blew out a breath and pulled her hands free, surprised at how much she instantly missed the contact. “George thought it was better if I stayed out of sight. I was young. And there were bound to be questions. And he was afraid that if the people after my father knew I was still alive, they’d feel obligated to come after me. Loose ends—that’s the way he put it. I didn’t have a life in Walsenburg anyway, not without my family. George was all I had left. It was easy just to do what he wanted.”

  “And you’ve lived off the radar ever since.”

  “Yes.”

  “Lonely way to go,” he said, and she had the feeling he was speaking from personal experience, that he actually understood the box she’d been trapped inside for all of her life.

  “It was easy at first, with George. But then I grew up, and he insisted I needed my own life. Separate from him. And so Alexis Markham was born. I’ve just been off the grid so long that I can’t even begin to conceptualize what it would take to be legitimate. And even though the problems originated with my father, I’m still his daughter, and I’m not convinced there wouldn’t be fallout if someone figures out who I am.”

  “Well, I think now you know.”

  “So you really think all this has to do with me?” She ran a hand through her hair, emotions running riot.

  “I think it has to do with your father. And his relationship with George and whatever the hell someone thinks you have access to. So what happened with your father? What set all this in motion?”

  “I wish I could tell you definitively,” she said, pushing off the sofa and walking to the window. “Most of what I know comes from my father, but he was just talking about the general situation, not the specifics. Over the years I’ve tried to dig out more, but for the most part I’ve hit dead ends. And I didn’t dare push too hard because I was afraid I’d accidentally out myself.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell me what you do know.”

  She paused again, wondering how much she should tell him, and once again opted for the truth. “My dad was a chemist. And before I was born, he worked at the Department of Defense. Selected projects, from what I can tell. Maybe two or three over the course of his tenure there. But it was the last project he was working on that caused problems. As I said, he never discussed specifics. All I’ve been able to glean from my years of digging was that it was called Omega. And that it was super-top-secret stuff.”

  “I think most of what DOD does is top secret.”

  “Well, apparently Omega was as secret as it gets.” She sighed, moving again to sit across from him in an armchair, leaning forward, her hands cupped beneath her chin. “My dad and his lab partner were the key players. And according to my father, they believed they were doing theoretical research. Just playing with equations and applying them to biochemistry. But somewhere along the way they realized that the work wasn’t theoretical at all. That it was, in fact, being used to develop a biotoxic weapon.”

  “Sounds like pretty serious stuff.”

  “Yeah, and when they found out, they threatened to go public with it. As I said, it was a secret project. Anyway, shortly after that, my father’s partner wound up dead. And Dad figured he was next.”

  “So he believed people within the government killed his partner?”

  “Yeah. Which meant he didn’t stand a chance on his own. So he took my mother and my brother and disappeared. He said the conspiracy, whatever it was, went to the top. That there wasn’t anywhere legitimate he could turn.”

  “He told you all of this?”

  “No.” She shook her head and attempted a smile. “I overheard a lot of it. My mom and dad talking. She hated giving up her life. She was a college professor. English literature. I don’t think she ever really got over losing it all. Although don’t get me wrong—she made the best of it. Just like we all did. We loved my father. And we understood that it was the only way we could all be safe. But in the end it was all for nothing. They found him anyway.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you. I’ve lost people I love—some of them violently—but I never had to witness it firsthand.” He leaned forward again but this time she shifted away, avoiding contact.

  “I managed.” She shrugged, the gesture forced as she pushed up to walk over to the window again. Below her, over the balcony, she could see the street and the restaurant on the other side. “I even thought I’d put it all behind me. Until someone took out George and tried to do the same to me.”

  “And you honestly have no idea what they want? Or who ‘they’ are—other than people who may have been connected with this Omega Project?”

  “No. I’ve got nothing. And, believe me, I’ve been over and over it. But I just don’t have the access to the information I need. To be honest, I’m not sure anyone does. It’s been thirteen years since my father died, and almost thirty since he worked on Omega. That’s a long time for someone to have to cover their tracks.” She frowned as her gaze settled on a black car sitting just past the coffee shop.

  “What is it?” Tucker asked as he came to stand behind her.

  She frowned, eyes still on the car. “I think we’re being watched.”

  CHAPTER 10

  There’s a car down there. See?” Alexis pointed and Tucker shifted so he could follow her line of sight. “It was there when I looked out the window just a little while ago. But it’s moved—maybe a parking place or so. I think there are people inside. It’s probably nothing, but…”

  “Better to be sure,” he said, pulling a small scope from his pocket. He put it to his eye, adjusting it until the car swam into focus. “There’s definitely someone inside. Two men. Can’t make out who they are, but I think you’re right. I think they’re watching the apartment.” He slid the scope back into his pocket. “Good catch.”

  Despite the seriousness of the situation, she smiled, clearly pleased with his words. He wondered, not for the first time, how often in her life someone had taken the time to give her praise. George Atterley and her father had clearly cared, but her father had died early and George had been in prison almost half the time since her dad’s death. That meant she’d spent a lot of time on her own. And he knew better than most the loneliness that kind of existence created.

  “So what do we do now?” Alexis was still looking up at him, a shadow of worry crossing her face.

  “We get out of here.” He smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You keep watch here at the window, and I’ll give Harrison a call and check the fire escape.” He hit speed dial and waited.

  “Yo, what’s up?” Harrison said, answering on the first ring.

  “We’ve got company out front,” Tucker said, striding over to the bedroom window and pulling the curtains back. “There’s no one watching the fire escape, though. They must figure we’d have to spill onto the street if we try to get out.”

  “Any other option?” Harrison asked, the sound of tapping keys accompanying his words.

  “Not that I can see. You got anything?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” he said. “There’s a door at the end of the alley. Assuming you can make it, it’ll take you through an absinthe shop and out onto Bourbon Street.”

  “Well, at least that gives us an option. There’s no movement yet, so I can’t be positive they’re there for us. Got a license, though. Local. CZH 964.”

  “Tucker?” Alexis called from the other room. “I think they’re coming up here.”

  He moved back into the other room, crossing over to the window, passing the phone to Alexis as he pulled the scope from his pocket. “Damn,” he whispered as he gained focus. Two men in overcoats on a steamy Louisiana evening couldn’t be a good thing. “Tell Harrison we’re on the move. We’ll go with his plan. They’ve just now entered the building, which means they’re on the way up.”

  Alexis relayed the message, and ag
ain Tucker was struck by how calmly she handled crisis. “He said he’s on his way. So you going to fill me in?”

  “We’ll go down the fire escape. But we need to move now,” he said, already shepherding her into the bedroom toward the window. “You go first.”

  She nodded and was just about to throw her leg over the windowsill when she stopped, a line forming between her eyebrows as she frowned. “Wait. I need my things,” she said.

  He started to protest, then changed his mind. It would be faster just to give her the damn pack. He reached across the bed for the pink and purple strap, and then tossed it across the room to her just as the door to the apartment burst open, a barrage of bullets strafing the living room walls and bedroom door.

  “Go,” he said, stopping to grab his own pack, figuring the extra ammo and gun inside might come in handy. Pulling his gun, he fired through the door, then made his way to the window and out onto the fire escape. Alexis was already on her way down, and he followed suit, the alley only two floors below them now.

  Behind him he could hear the intruders as they clamored out onto the fire escape. Alexis had reached the bottom floor, but the final ladder was rusted firmly in place. “What now?” she asked as he joined her and a bullet whizzed by.

  “You’re going to have to jump,” he said, turning to shoot behind him, the men ducking back to avoid the gunfire.

  She opened her mouth to argue, took a quick look at the men above them, and, without another word, jumped down into the alley. Tucker took another shot, satisfied to see that he’d clipped one, and then followed suit. The men above opened fire, but by sticking close to the wall Tucker managed to keep them out of range.

  The alley was short, lined with trash bins and other refuse. Although they passed a cardboard box that clearly served as a home, thankfully the occupant was not in residence. Tucker turned to fire again. The two men had reached the bottom of the fire escape, one of them aiming to shoot while the other tried to push down the ladder.

  “Keep going,” Tucker said, pushing Alexis forward. In front of them the alley curved sharply to the right and dead-ended into a small courtyard overgrown with plants from what had once been a garden.

  “Shit.” Alexis slid to a stop, frustration cresting. “Is this your big plan?”

  “There’s a door on the back wall. Must be behind the vines. We’ve got to keep moving.”

  She sprinted forward, pushing aside the heavy tangle of ivy that covered the back of the building. “You’re right,” she called, “it’s here.”

  She pulled on the old wooden door but it refused to budge. “Maybe it’s locked.”

  “You better pray it’s not,” Tucker said, pushing her aside and yanking with all his might. The door groaned as it granted access. “Inside,” he said, “quickly.”

  She dashed through the opening and he followed, pulling the door shut behind him. “Come on.”

  They were in some kind of storage room, shelves stocked with boxes and crates. Alexis followed as he moved forward, gun still drawn. It was unlikely that anyone dangerous was waiting, but he didn’t want to take a chance. The storage room opened onto a brick-lined hallway, old wrought-iron brackets standing testimony to the age of the building. A locked door led off to one side and a swinging row of beads separated the back rooms from the front.

  “Through there,” he said, following her through the beads, lowering his hand to mask his gun.

  “What the—” The startled woman behind the counter jumped to her feet, dreadlocks swinging, the tattoo of a monkey climbing up one of her arms.

  “Sorry to pop in like this,” Alexis said, giggling like a schoolgirl. Surrounding them were the glass fountain sets, brouilleurs, antique bottles, spoons, and other accoutrements that accompanied the reviving practice of drinking absinthe. “I’m afraid it’s my fault.” She giggled again, swaying slightly as she placed a hand on Tucker’s arm. “We’ve been partying all afternoon and—well…” She smiled beguilingly. “We ducked into an alley to—well”—she giggled again—“you know. Anyway, then I dared him to come through here.”

  Tucker forced a crooked smile, slipping his gun into his pocket. “I told her we’d get in trouble.”

  “No way,” the girl said with an answering smile. “I’ve used that alley myself on occasion.”

  “Thanks.” Alexis grinned, slipping her hand through Tucker’s, pulling him toward the front door. “Nice shop.”

  They slipped outside into the twilight and the gathering crowds of tourists on Bourbon Street. “Good work,” Tucker said, picking up the pace as they made their way up the street. “That was quick thinking.”

  “A lifetime looking over your shoulder makes you pretty nimble on your feet.” She shrugged. “So what now?”

  “We blend into the crowd until we hook up with Harrison at the rendezvous point,” Tucker said, pulling out his phone.

  “You keep sounding like a spy movie.” She shook her head, her hand tightening on his arm as they hurried down the street. “Or a government operative.”

  “I told you I have a military background. They drill the words into your head. Guess I’ve carried them over more than I realized. Anyway, we need to keep moving—one of our guys just rounded the corner.”

  Alexis slowed, shooting a look over her shoulder.

  “Don’t look. He hasn’t made us yet. But if you keep checking him out he’s going to see us.”

  “Right.” She nodded, her eyes back on the crowds in front of them. “I’m sorry. I’m not as good at this as you are. Where are we meeting Harrison?”

  “Intersection with Toulouse. If he turns onto Bourbon, we’ll never get out of here.” He indicated the tourists, many of them spilling out onto the street, most of them already inebriated. Behind them their pursuer was closing the distance.

  “I thought there were two of them,” Alexis whispered as they hurried forward.

  “I clipped one. Maybe he wasn’t up to the chase.”

  “A girl can dream.” Alexis started to turn again but stopped, resisting the urge. “What if he catches us?”

  “He won’t.” Tucker shook his head to underscore his words, hoping he was telling the truth. Odds were that the man wouldn’t open fire on a crowded street, but anything was possible. “It’s just another half-block or so.”

  Ahead of them a black sedan pulled into the street. Tucker reached back for his gun, careful to keep it out of sight. His finger tightened on the trigger, the pressure just short of firing. The car, a Toyota, honked at an errant pedestrian and then moved forward.

  “Is that the same car?” Alexis asked, her fingers digging into his arm.

  “I think so,” he said. “But unless they open fire we’ve still got maneuvering room.” They picked up the pace, dodging laughing patrons spilling out of a bar, the piano music adding a macabre sound track to the already tense situation. “When I say go, I want you to run for the corner. Harrison should be there. A blue Jeep. He’ll be watching.”

  “What about you?” she asked, her gaze darting over to meet his.

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  She nodded, and Tucker stepped back into the shadows of an alley, checking behind him again. The man was closing fast, maybe three yards back. He lifted his hand, talking into a mic, and the Toyota hit reverse and then swerved to block the entrance to Toulouse.

  “Go. Now.” Tucker barked. “Cut to the right to stay away from the car.”

  She nodded once, then sprinted forward, knocking people aside in her haste. He waited a beat, then stepped deeper into the shadows as the man behind them broke into a run. As the guy moved past, Tucker grabbed him by the neck and with a quick twist rendered the bastard unconscious.

  “One down,” he said to no one in particular. “Now for the Toyota.” Reaching into his bag, he grabbed a flare and dashed out into the street just as the driver started forward again, gun stuck through the window, the muzzle aimed at Alexis as she hit the corner frantically looking for Harrison. Wit
h a mumbled curse, Tucker ran up on the car from behind, triggered the flare, and lobbed it through the open window.

  The car lit up like a Christmas tree and then filled with smoke. People screamed as the driver lost control and rammed into a utility pole. In front of Tucker the Jeep roared into view, slowing as it approached the corner where Alexis was standing.

  Tucker gave the car a last look and then made for the Jeep, following Alexis through the open door almost before Harrison could bring it to a full stop. “Go,” he yelled as Harrison floored the Jeep, the engine roaring to life as they sped up Toulouse away from the frantic scene.

  “Well, you guys certainly can’t be accused of making a boring exit,” Harrison said as he turned, heading for the highway. “Where to next?”

  “Colorado,” Tucker answered, turning so that his gaze met Alexis’s. “George’s house. And, hopefully, some answers.”

  Governor Bastion Carmichael looked out across the expansive Sacramento skyline. Below him traffic moved at a snail’s pace, the cars surrounded by the swaying palm trees that marked the gardens, their arching branches stark against the darkening sky. The city—hell, the whole fucking state—was his kingdom. A lot better than his meager start at DOD. He’d worked long and hard to earn his place here, and he wasn’t about to let it go easily. Especially not because some twit of a girl suddenly decided to become a player.

  “So explain to me exactly how it is that you’ve managed to let her get away—again.”

  Peter Dryker winced at the accusation, his face flooding with color, his hands tightening into fists. “I told you. She has help.”

  “Clearly.” Bastion waved his hand, impatience biting at his gut. “But so did you. You assured me yourself that Jason Fogerty was one of the best.”

  “This guy with the girl—he’s good too. He’s got training. Maybe military. Maybe something more.”

  “So you’re telling me this guy’s one of ours?” Bastion frowned.