Deep Disclosure Read online

  Her mother.

  “She says she thought my father knew. He must have been devastated. He loved her so much. How the hell could she have done something like that to him?” She threw the pictures in the same direction she’d thrown the journal. The photos twirled in invisible eddies as they drifted to the floor. “My dad was George’s best friend. How could George have betrayed him like that?” She looked up as if expecting Tucker to answer, then realized she’d been so lost in the past she’d forgotten the present. “I’m sorry. I know none of this matters now. They’re all dead. It’s just that I didn’t know. And now that I do… well, don’t you see, it changes everything.”

  “It changes nothing,” Tucker said, sitting down beside her, the cadence of his breathing more soothing than she could possibly have imagined. “Whatever they were to each other, they all loved you. That much is abundantly clear just from what you’ve told me.”

  “But we were a family.”

  “And you still are. Look, Alexis,” he said, tilting her chin so that he could see her face. “When I was young, my mother ran away. She just left my father and my brother and me. Without ever looking back. And my father was destroyed. But slowly, with a lot of help, we put our family back together again. We realized we didn’t need her to go on.”

  “That’s what all the baseball games were for,” Alexis said, her voice coming out on a rasp.

  “Exactly.”

  “But don’t you hate her? Your mother, I mean? For leaving you?”

  “I did,” he said, wiping away her tears with one large finger. “But I finally realized that in hating her I was letting her win. So I just quit caring altogether.”

  “Well, right now I hate them for what they did to my dad. For what they might have done to me—if my mother hadn’t died, that is.”

  “You have no way of knowing what she would have done. But one thing is perfectly clear: At least in that moment, she chose you and your brother. And later, when it really mattered, George chose you.”

  “Because of her.”

  “Maybe a little. But he loved you too.”

  “You can’t know that,” Alexis insisted, shaking her head. “And I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to forgive them.”

  “Well, in the meantime I think we should keep the photos and journal.”

  “Take them if you think it could help us.” She shrugged. “But don’t keep them for me. I don’t want them. And I don’t think anything will make me change my mind about that.”

  “Okay. But I’ll still hang on to them,” he said, his tone still soothing, as if he were talking to a child. It should have made her angry. But, oddly, all she felt was protected. Clearly she’d lost her mind.

  “I’ve got something out here you need to see,” Harrison said, stepping into the doorway, his eyebrow raised at the sight of the two of them huddled on the bed. “You finding anything interesting in here?”

  “Just some old photos and a journal.” Alexis pushed off the bed and away from Tucker. “My mother’s.”

  “We haven’t read the entire thing yet.” Tucker stood up too, his expression guarded. “But so far there’s nothing in it that sheds any light on our current situation.”

  “Except the fact that my mother was cheating on my father,” Alexis said, the words coming before she could stop them.

  “With George,” Tucker added.

  “God, I’m sorry,” Harrison said. “What a lousy way to find out.”

  Alexis nodded. “I guess maybe he really did love her. If he kept her pictures and her journal all these years. I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be so angry. It’s not as if either of them betrayed me. But my father had been through so much. It just seems so horrible that they’d add adultery on top of everything else.”

  “Sometimes people can’t control how they feel,” Harrison observed with an apologetic smile. “You just love who you love.”

  “And damn the consequences?” It was a question, but she already knew the answer.

  “Sometimes.” This was from Tucker, whose smile was bittersweet. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that wishing things had been different is a wasted effort.” He shrugged, then turned to Harrison. “You said you found something we need to see?”

  “Yeah, right.” Harrison nodded. “I found an old suitcase under the house. But it’s wedged in pretty tightly, and the space is too narrow for me to be able to get at it. So I figured you guys could help.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Tucker knelt down beside Harrison to look underneath the pier-and-beam foundation of the cabin. There was only a couple of feet of space, the rocky terrain beneath the bottom of the house anything but inviting.

  “You can see why I needed help,” Harrison said. “I’m not even certain it’s worth trying to get it. I mean, clearly it’s been there awhile.”

  “Or someone wanted to make it look that way.” Tucker said, frowning as he looked at the case.

  “Alexis, do you remember seeing this before?”

  She dropped down beside him, bending low so she could see underneath the house. “No. It definitely wasn’t there when I was a kid. Frank and I used to crawl under here all the time. If you crawl past the porch, it’s big enough to sit up. We called it our secret clubhouse. Anyway, there wasn’t a suitcase.”

  “Okay, so we know it dates from after the time Alexis’s family died. I’d say that makes it worth giving it a look-see.”

  “Any idea how you want to retrieve it? I tried crawling in, but it’s pretty damn tight.”

  “I can do it,” Alexis volunteered. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

  “Fine,” Tucker said, fighting against the instinct to say no. She’d already had one shock, and there was no telling what else George had squirreled away up here. “Just be careful, okay?”

  She squeezed his arm, smiled, and then dropped to her stomach and began to crawl underneath the cabin. “It’s not so bad,” she called, still shimmying forward. “At least there’s nothing dead under here.”

  “You know, for a girl, she’s pretty damn game,” Harrison said, barely hanging on to his laughter.

  “I heard that.”

  “Good hearing as well.” Tucker, too, was working not to chuckle.

  “All right,” Alexis said. “I’m here. What now?”

  “See if you can jimmy it loose.”

  “Okay.” She shifted slightly so they could see the bag. “Looks like an old satchel of some kind. Maybe George threw it out.”

  “Or a vagrant left it. Anything’s possible.”

  With a quick intake of breath, she started to pull the suitcase forward. “It’s stuck against something. But I can’t see what.”

  “Hang on,” Tucker said. “Let me give you some light.” He flipped on the flashlight he’d pulled from the car and aimed the light at the case. “That better?”

  “Yeah, much. Thank you. Looks like it’s caught on the wooden beam.” She shifted position again, this time with her body blocking their view of the case. There was a grunt and then a whoop of satisfaction as the case pulled free. “Got it,” she called triumphantly, already pushing herself backward toward the edge of the porch.

  “Almost there,” Harrison called, shining a second flashlight to give her even more illumination. She nodded and then shifted slightly to the right as she tried to turn around. Something from deep underneath the house groaned, and the floor above Alexis came tumbling down, a cloud of dust obscuring Tucker’s view.

  “Shit.” Alexis’s voice was muffled by the dust.

  “You all right?” Tucker called, already trying to push his way underneath the house over to Alexis.

  “I’m okay, but I’m stuck. And we’ve got a serious problem.”

  “More serious than your being trapped?” Tucker asked, his back scraping against floorboards and joists.

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice losing some of its bravado. “The suitcase just started blinking.”

 
“Fuck,” Harrison said.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Alexis agreed, a tremor of fear underlying her attempted bravery. “Any chance you can get me out of here?”

  “I’m trying but it’s really tight,” Tucker said, pushing himself forward with a burst of adrenaline. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so. But I’m caught on something and I can’t get loose. And I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything but the damn blinking light.”

  “Any sign of a timer?” Harrison asked as he aimed the flashlight beam at the two of them. “It might help if we knew how much time.”

  “Hang on,” she said, her voice muted as she struggled to pull herself closer to the suitcase. “I’m not seeing anything. Should I try to open it?”

  “No.” Tucker and Harrison said almost in unison.

  “Okay, no touching the suitcase.” She held up her hands for a moment in mock surrender, then started to squirm again as she worked to pull herself free. “I think it’s my shirt. Maybe it’s hooked on a nail or something.”

  “Can you get it off?”

  “Sure, leave it to you guys to rig a strip show.” Her laugh was forced, but Tucker smiled anyway, impressed with her ability for humor under pressure. “Okay, I’ve almost got it.” She blew out a big breath. “It’s off. Shit.”

  “What?” Again Tucker and Harrison spoke as one.

  “I found the timer. Fifty-six seconds. I’ll never make it.”

  “The hell you won’t,” Tucker growled, worry making him sound angry. “Just keep moving and don’t bother turning around. When you get close enough, I’ll grab your ankles and pull.”

  “Okay,” she called as she scrambled back, her feet finally coming within reach.

  “Got you,” Tucker called. “How much time do we have left, Harrison?”

  “Forty seconds.”

  “Okay, Alexis. I’m going to pull now. There’s a lot of rocks and debris, so this could hurt.”

  “Beats the hell out of being blown to bits” came the reply.

  Despite the gravity of the situation Harrison smiled, then mouthed the words “thirty-five.”

  Tucker pulled—hard—and Alexis flew out from under the house. “Come on. We’ve got to run. Now.”

  The three of them stumbled to their feet, heading away from the cabin toward the road and the safety of the Jeep.

  Behind them the cabin exploded, a roaring wind of fire and heat enveloping everything as it shot toward them. Grabbing Alexis by the hand, Tucker pulled her forward, following Harrison, to dive behind the relative safety of a tree. Tucker used his body to protect hers as the fire whooshed past, the tops of the trees swaying with the force of the blast, embers and ash raining down on their heads.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, her skin warm against his.

  “Yeah.” She nodded, her breath grazing his ear. “Thanks to you.”

  “Harrison?” Tucker called as he—somewhat reluctantly—rolled off of Alexis.

  “Present and accounted for. And more or less in one piece.” Harrison pushed an ash-covered tree branch off of his chest and sat up. “You guys sure know how to throw a party. That was one hell of a blast.”

  “Yeah, and unless I miss my guess, the person behind it is somewhere close by.” Tucker pushed to his feet, extending a hand to Alexis. As if to underscore the thought, a Mini Cooper roared out from the trees and down the road.

  “Damn it,” Tucker said, starting to give chase and then realizing the futility of the move.

  “Where’s the bionic man when you need him?” Harrison quipped as he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood off his face, a small cut above his eyebrow the culprit.

  “Did anyone catch the license plate?” Tucker asked, cursing himself for not making note of it.

  “I did.” Alexis said, hands on hips, her sports bra making her look at once tough and sexy. “B56 BKG. Texas plates, I think.”

  “That’s my girl,” Tucker said with a smile, brushing the debris off his shirt. “At least it’s something.”

  “Hope it pans out better than the one outside the apartment in New Orleans,” Harrison said. “I checked it out and—big surprise—the plates were stolen.”

  “Well, sooner or later we’re bound to catch a break. At least we got here before the place blew. Although I’m not sure Alexis’s mother’s journal has any real value as far as all this is concerned.”

  “Oh my God,” Alexis said, her hands covering her mouth. “The journal… I…” She trailed off, her expression stricken.

  “No worries,” Harrison was quick to say. “Tucker put it in the Jeep before we went to check out the suitcase.”

  “I didn’t think I cared,” Alexis said as she lifted her gaze to meet Tucker’s, “but I guess I do. Thanks.”

  “Not a problem. At least we got something out of the deal. I just wish to hell we’d managed to catch up to whoever set off the bomb.”

  “You think it was the same person who killed George?”

  “I think it’s likely. But in order to be sure we’ll need a little expert help,” Tucker said, shooting a look in Harrison’s direction.

  “Don’t tell me you have a friend who knows about bombs?” Alexis asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  Actually he did, but one A-Tac member in the mix was probably enough. “No.” He shook his head. “But if I call it in, then the local police or maybe ATF will be all over it, and with a little luck—”

  “I’ll be able to tap into the investigation and find out what’s what,” Harrison said.

  “Sounds like a convoluted way to deal with it, but I guess under the circumstances, we really don’t have a choice.”

  “Unless you’ve changed your mind and want to take this whole thing to the authorities,” Harrison said.

  Alexis’s shoulders tightened, and a small line formed between her eyebrows as she frowned. “Not a chance in hell. There’s no way to know for sure who we can trust. Especially if you’re right and the bomber is connected to my father and the Omega Project.”

  “She’s right,” Tucker affirmed, not sure at all that it was the right move but positive that if he revealed himself now, she’d run. “For all we know, it’s someone pretty high up the food chain. Which means they’re connected. And that means they’ll be able to get to pretty much anyone.”

  “Okay,” Harrison agreed. “We go it alone. But I like your plan to report the bombing. You want to use my phone? It’s secure.”

  “Secure?” Alexis asked, again looking at them both with suspicion, reminding Tucker yet again that she was nobody’s fool.

  “I’m a hacker, remember?” Harrison reminded her with a grin. “I figure if I can get to someone else, they can get to me. So I added a few bells and whistles to my phone. Makes it impossible to trace.”

  “Right. Of course,” she said, her eyes going to the smoldering remains of the cabin. “I’m sorry. This is all just a bit much, you know?”

  “It’s understandable,” Tucker said, taking the phone from Harrison. “Why don’t the two of you go on and get in the car. I’ll make the phone call and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”

  “So where are we with Atterley?” Michael Brecht asked as he took a sip of cognac. The lights of Montreal filled the window behind the table, the restaurant one of the finest and most discreet in all the city.

  “Other than knowing he’s not really Atterley?” Alain DuBois asked the question, which was, of course, rhetorical.

  “Yes, well, that was a given from the start,” Brecht said. “But now that we’ve got DNA we’ll know the truth soon enough. And in the meantime at least we’ve ascertained that he’s not a government plant—which was a long shot but nonetheless a worry.”

  “So you still want to wait it out?” Alain wasn’t certain exactly why Brecht was willing to tolerate Atterley’s games.

  “I think the prize is worth the risk, yes. And to be honest, I’m a little curious as to what the man is truly up to.”
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br />   “You think he’s running a scam?”

  Brecht paused a moment, sipping his drink. “No. Interestingly enough, I think that except for the name, he’s shooting straight with us. Something just happened to blow his plan to hell.”

  “Something involving the real George Atterley?”

  “Yes, that’s where it really gets interesting. The real Atterley seems to have disappeared. I’ve had all my sources checking on him, and so far, nothing. The man was released from prison and apparently dropped off the face of the earth.”

  “What I don’t understand,” Alain said, leaning forward to light a cigarette, “is why he thought we’d believe he was Atterley in the first place.”

  “I’m not sure he really cared. My take is that he thought he’d make the deal and be done with it before anyone had time to question who he really was. It just didn’t happen that way.” Brecht shrugged, his perfectly cut suit creasing slightly with the motion. “And in the meantime we’ve got another problem. Or at least a potential one.”

  Alain inhaled deeply, then released the smoke slowly. “You’re talking about Bastion Carmichael.”

  “Yes. I’ve gotten confirmation that he’s been on the move again. Some woman in New Orleans. Word on the street is that he hasn’t been able to run her to ground, but the only time the governor gets antsy is when he believes information regarding Omega is about to surface.”

  “So he’s aware that someone is trying to sell the formula.”

  “Apparently so. At least that would be my guess. He’s been using Peter Dryker again. And that’s usually a telltale sign.”

  “Any chance he’s on to us?”

  “No. But even if he were, it wouldn’t matter. He’s addicted to power. And it took him a long time to work his way back into the political mainstream. Which means he’ll do anything to protect his turf. Case in point—the activities in New Orleans. Push comes to shove, we’ll simply make it impossible for him to say no to our offer of protection. But for the time being I think it’s easier to let it all ride.”