Bad Nights (18 page)

“Max and I will alternate taking care of pending business at Rockfort,” Shane said.

“Okay.”

“You'll both stay here,” he added, looking from Jack to Morgan and back again.

“Okay,” they both answered.

“Actually, it's probably safest if we all sleep here.”

Jack agreed, thinking that having the other guys around would help keep him and Morgan from getting into anything heavy.

He cleared his throat. “I told you when I was hit on the head that I lost the memory of what happened right before Trainer's men captured me.”

Shane nodded.

Jack kept his voice even. “Morgan wants to try a technique that might help me recover the memory.”

Shane studied her. “Like what, exactly?”

“Hypnosis,” she said.

“I thought that kind of thing was discredited,” Shane said, sounding scornful.

She wanted to answer in the same tone, but she kept her voice even.

“To a certain extent it is, when a therapist is trying to dig up long-term memories of abuse. But this is different. It's something that happened to Jack a few days ago. And there's no downside. Either he can recall the incident, or he can't.”

“You're qualified as a hypnotherapist?” Shane asked.

She opened her hands. “I took a course in it and had some practical experience with volunteers. But if you wanted, we could call someone else in.”

“Not a good idea from a security standpoint,” Shane answered.

Jack nodded in agreement.

Shane gave him a searching look. “But you want to try it?”

“Like she says, what do I have to lose?” He glanced at Morgan. “If we're going to do it, let's go ahead.”

“And you're not going to poke into any of his other memories?” Shane asked.

“Of course not,” Morgan answered promptly. “If you want to be there, you can.”

“Won't that be distracting?”

“Yes, but I'm willing to do it if you don't trust me.”

“I trust her,” Jack broke in.

“Then go for it,” Shane said.

She looked toward the great room. “We need a quiet place.”

“We can use one of the bedrooms,” Jack said.

“We'll need two comfortable chairs,” Morgan answered.

“They all have one. I just have to bring another one in.”

***

Morgan had made herself sound confident as she'd told Jack and Shane what she had in mind, but she was less sure of herself than she pretended. The class she'd taken in hypnosis techniques had been a couple of years ago, and she hadn't practiced since then. But she wanted Jack to get those memories back, for more than one reason. Whatever he'd found out might speed up the process of putting the militia leader out of business, but more important to her was Jack's attitude toward himself. She knew he felt like he'd failed in his mission. If he'd discovered something, and she could help him recover the memory, that would help his attitude.

And help their relationship? She hoped that would be true too.

Her heart was pounding as she followed Jack upstairs. There was a lot riding on this session.

He hesitated in the hallway. “Maybe a room that's not being used is best.”

“Sure.”

He opened another door and ushered her into a chamber that was similar to the one where she was sleeping, only the decor was more masculine than in hers.

Jack gestured her to the easy chair in the corner. “Be right back.”

She sat and felt her heart start to pound even harder. This was her idea, but now she was nervous.

When Jack stepped out of the room, she clutched the chair arms in a death grip, then eased her hands into her lap and did some deep breathing exercises to calm herself.

Jack was back all too soon, carrying another large chair which he set down a few feet from her. “Now what?”

“Push that chair over toward the bed so that you can look at the far wall. Then sit down.”

He did as she asked, leaning back in the chair.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.”

She could see he was nervous. She hoped she wasn't projecting the same tension.

“The usual procedure would be to spend at least a session discussing your background before we got into hypnosis.”

“I thought you didn't do clinical work,” he snapped, revealing his anxiety.

“I don't. But I know the procedures.”

She heard him drag in a breath and let it out.

“Maybe what we can do is have a practice hypnosis session where we only get into relaxation techniques.”

“Okay,” he answered, and she heard some of the tension ease out of him.

In the next second, he came up with an objection. “We don't have a whole lot of time.”

She struggled to keep her voice even. “So which do you prefer? Getting right to the main event or doing a trial run?”

He considered the question. “Maybe a trial run.”

“Then let me tell you a little about the technique we'll employ. I used it in the class I took. Really, it's self-hypnosis. And I'm just there to guide you back to an earlier time you want to remember and help you control the experience. The best part is that you're perfectly safe. Nothing can harm you while you're there.” After giving him a fuller explanation, she asked, “Any questions?”

“No.”

“Then make yourself comfortable.”

He stretched out his long legs, crossing his booted feet at the ankles.

Morgan leaned forward slightly in her chair. “The technique will be the same this time and next. Breathe deeply, raise your eyes just a little, and look up at the line where the wall meets the ceiling.”

Jack did as he was asked.

“Now I'm just going to help you relax. Relax. Relax now.” Morgan continued in a soothing voice. “If you could get away from your problems and go on vacation—where would you go?”

He laughed. “I wish.”

“We can do it here.”

He shrugged. “I don't know. A beach, I guess.”

“You like the beach?”

“I did when I was a kid. Not much time to lie around since then.”

“Well, you can now. Imagine you're in a sling chair staring out at a beautiful blue ocean. The waves are rolling in, breaking on a horseshoe stretch of white sand.”

She saw the tension ease out of Jack's face.

“It's nice, isn't it?”

“Um.”

“Can you talk to me?”

“Yeah,” he answered in a slow, drowsy voice.

“When I tell you to wake up, you'll come right back to this room.”

“Uh huh.”

She looked at his relaxed posture, pleased with her success. It was tempting to ask him questions that had nothing to do with recovering his memories of the time before Trainer's men had captured him, but she wasn't going to bait and switch on him.

“Let's just stay here for a while, enjoying the sun and the surf.”

“Okay.”

“Do you see any dolphins?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Are there any sailboats out on the water?”

He smiled. “Um hum.”

“Wiggle your toes in the sand.”

She spent another ten minutes with him on the beach, then said, “The next time I say, ‘wake up now,' you will wake. Now or anytime you are in the trance state. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Wake up now.”

His eyes blinked open, and he stared at her. “I guess it worked.”

“How do you feel?”

“Better than before we started.”

“Refreshed?”

“Rested.”

“Good.” She was feeling pleased that it had gone so well and gave him an encouraging smile.

“Next time we'll start the same way, then I'll take you back to Trainer's camp.”

That sent a small wave of doubt across his face, and she suspected that the last place he wanted to visit was the training camp. Perhaps she should give him a little time before they started in again.

“Maybe we should have a snack, then come back up here and try it again,” she said.

He nodded in agreement.

***

Wade felt his tension mount as he drove back to the militia camp. He'd rushed off to meet Davenport because it was important, but now he was thinking about what Barnes might do.

Although Wade had put a few extra men on guard duty, there had been no problems. Everything was the way he had left it, including in the infirmary.

“No change in Preston?” he asked.

“Sorry.”

“Do your best,” he answered, wondering how long they were going to keep the man lying in a hospital bed. Would Wentworth cooperate if he suggested giving the troop an overdose of painkiller? Or would Wade have to do that himself?

He made a quick inspection of the camp. A few men were still in the recreation area shooting the breeze, but most of them were already in bed because the RAM days started early.

After he was satisfied with the camp, he went back to his office and checked his email, relieved that there were no communications from Mr. Money.

While he was sitting at the computer, a message came in from Davenport with the subject header, “Bad News.”

Wade felt his stomach clench. Was the guy going to tell him he couldn't get the information on Jack Barnes after all?

His finger hovered over the mouse button. Then he remembered his cover story—that a man named Jack Barnes was stealing from him.

He opened the message and quickly read:

“You wanted to know if your employee, Jack Barnes, was legit. It wasn't hard to run those prints. They came right up. His real name isn't Jack Barnes like he told you. It's Jack Brandt. It looks like he's working for a security company in Rockville called Rockfort. Weird. Is he stalking you or something?”

Wade's heart was pounding as he hit the reply button. “Thanks for the info. I owe you one, buddy.”

Shane joined Morgan and Jack in the kitchen when he heard the refrigerator open.

“How did it go?”

“The test run was fine,” Jack answered with more animation than he'd displayed when they'd been alone together. “It left me feeling good. We're going to have something to eat and get to the real deal.”

Morgan turned away from the two men and took out the tray of sandwiches they'd served earlier, glad that there was prepared food at hand. She didn't want to get stuck being the cook for three guys at the safe house. Or should she impress them with her chicken cacciatore? The thought brought a wave of emotions surging through her. It had been a long time since she'd thought about cooking in any way besides providing herself with the essentials. Maybe while she was here she
could
play around in the kitchen. For her own amusement, of course. Not because she wanted to impress Jack and the rest of the Rockfort men.

In addition to sandwiches, she pulled out coleslaw and potato salad that they hadn't served earlier.

They all helped themselves and carried plates to the kitchen table, along with coffee.

“I'm checking into Trainer's finances,” Shane said after he'd chewed and swallowed a bite of roast beef sandwich.

“How do you do that?” Morgan asked.

“We have a program that can look at bank records.”

Morgan kept her gaze on him. “Isn't that illegal?”

He laughed. “You could say it was illegal for him to torture Jack. Or burn your house down. I'm not losing any sleep over how we nail him.”

“I guess that's right.”

“What did you find out?”

“That he's getting regular infusions of cash that's being transferred from an account in the Cayman Islands.”

“Where people like to hide money that might not have come from legitimate sources.”

“It could be from legitimate sources too, but it could be there to avoid paying taxes.”

She nodded.

Jack set down his sandwich. “And you haven't found out who owns the account?”

“Not unless I can find someone who has better access to the banking system. But there is some other information I might be able to get.”

“Like what?”

“Like when the account was established.”

“You think Trainer owns the account?” Morgan asked.

“I'm betting it's someone else,” Shane said.

He explained something of Wade Trainer's background to Morgan. “He's never had nearly enough cash to finance an operation like his militia. We've always thought the funds were coming from a third party.”

Morgan nodded. They discussed the problem while they ate, but she saw Jack getting more and more restless. Finally he set down the unfinished part of his sandwich. “I get the feeling I'll have a better appetite after the session. Let's go up and get it over with.”

“You sound like you're anticipating an unpleasant medical procedure,” Morgan answered.

He shrugged. “Whatever. The sooner we start, the sooner we'll finish.”

***

Excitement coursed through Wade Trainer. He had the bastard now. His first impulse was to wake the men immediately. Then he reminded himself not to go off half-cocked. Barnes—no, Jack Brandt—had put one over on him before. The guy was tricky, and Wade had better have his ducks in a row before he went over there.

Starting with scoping out Rockfort Security. He Googled them and found the firm's address in Rockville, Maryland. Not so far away, which made sense. There were three partners: Jack Brandt, Shane Gallagher, and Max Lyon. Those other two must be the bastards who'd pinned Wade and his men down in the cave and set the fire at the mouth while they got away. He confirmed the assumption by finding their pictures on the Web site, along with a head shot of the super-prick, Jack Brandt.

He had to keep himself from throwing a glass paperweight against the wall before continuing.

When he was more in control of his anger, he read Jack Brandt's biography. In a lot of ways, it followed the general pattern of what Brandt had told him. But he was definitely a former Navy SEAL, unless he was lying about that on the Web site.

Switching to the other two guys, he found out that Shane Gallagher had been a cop, and Max Lyon had been an officer in the Army MPs. They'd formed the Rockfort Security Agency about a year ago. How the hell had the three of them hooked up?

Well, that wasn't important. The important thing was making them wish they'd never tangled with the Real Americans Militia.

Various scenarios ran through his mind as he called up a map, checking the exact location of the agency. It was in an industrial park a little north of downtown Rockville.

Would they be stupid enough to be in the office now? And was the woman, Morgan Rains, with them? That would be a nice bonus, if he could capture her.

While he was at it, he put her name into the Web too and found that she taught at a local university. As he stared at her self-confident face, he imagined stripping her and strapping her to his torture table. The idea aroused him. He got up and locked the office door, then unzipped his fly, grabbed a handful of tissues, and let himself enjoy the fantasy of what he would do to her.

***

Morgan and Jack returned to the bedroom where they'd had the first session.

“As I said, we'll start the same way,” she said to Jack as she sat down in the chair she'd occupied earlier. “Then I'll take you back to Trainer's office—in a safe way.”

“How?” he asked as he took the opposite chair.

“I'll distance you. You won't actually be there, but you'll see it on TV.”

“TV?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Well, an imaginary TV over there.” She gestured toward the far wall.

She saw his hands gripping the chair arms and knew he was forcing himself to do this.

“Comfortable?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Then we'll start. Like before, look up to the line where the ceiling meets the wall.”

When he'd directed his gaze to the line, she said, “Relax now. Relax now. We're going back to that beach.”

She saw his features soften.

“Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“That's good. What do you see?”

“Sailboat. Dolphins,” he answered in a dreamy voice.

“Okay, now you're going to get up from your chair and come inside the beach house.”

She saw him shift in his seat.

“Come on inside, and take the chair across from the big television screen on the wall. Are you sitting across from the TV now?”

“Yes.”

“Use the remote to turn it on. We're going to watch the Wade Trainer militia program. Three days ago. That's the day that somebody caught you sneaking around the compound. You won't actually be there, but you can see everything that's happening. Just like it happened before. But you'll be at the beach house. Nothing you see can hurt you.”

He grunted.

“There's no threat to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see yourself in the picture?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing?”

“Peeing.”

She made a low sound. “I don't need to know about that. Skip to breakfast.”

“Okay. I'm eating breakfast in the mess hall. They've got pancakes today. They're pretty decent. But I always make sure I have protein. Scrambled eggs.”

“Then what?”

“Inspection. Trainer's going over my stuff with a fine-tooth comb. I think he wants to find something wrong. But he ends up giving me a superior rating.”

“After that?”

“We're supposed to go to the firing range.” He paused.

“What?”

“I start walking with the rest of the men, but I tell Trainer I have a bad stomach. He lets me go back. Lucky he doesn't make me shit in the woods. I go back to the main compound. I go into the bathroom and stay there for a while. When I come out I make sure nobody's around. Then I go to Trainer's office.”

“Have you been in the office before?”

“Yes. He's called me in for talks on his theories about why the U.S. Government has gone bad. I always nod and agree like I think he's a master of philosophy.”

“Have you been there alone before?”

“Yes, I've used my lock picks to open the door and slipped in to poke around.” He laughs. “I figured out his password. McVeigh. His hero, apparently. Not very imaginative.”

“What do you do now?”

“I check again for a tail. Nobody's there. Then I sit down at the computer. I get into his email account. I've been there before. He's on the mailing list for a lot of nut groups. And one guy in Delaware. Someone who calls himself G. Washington.” He stopped short. “Wait a minute. I guess that's why I thought of George Washington in the cave. But I couldn't make it make sense.”

“What?” Morgan asked.

“Never mind. Hasn't happened yet. I'm coming in in the middle of Trainer's conversation with the guy. Could G. Washington be his moneyman? I fix that address in my head. Must report that to Rockfort. There's also a message from someone named Yarborough. I read it. Then I scroll through his mail looking for messages from either one of them. Both have been talking to him a lot. I'm memorizing the Yarborough guy's address too. I want to read more of what they have to say, but I think I've been in the office long enough. Also, I can't stay away from the firing range forever, so I get back out of the mail and onto his desktop. Then I hear a stealthy noise in back of me. I'm starting to turn, when thump…”

He gasped and slumped to the side.

Morgan hadn't been prepared for that. She'd told him he was safe here with her. Apparently she'd been wrong.

Leaping out of her chair, she crossed to him, kneeling at his side.

“Jack, wake up now.”

Nothing happened.

“Jack, wake up now,” she ordered, hearing the panic in her voice as she gave the command. She'd been sure she could bring him out of the trance with the suggestion, but it was like they weren't even in the same room.

“Jack. Jack!”

His face had turned pale, and he had stopped breathing. Morgan's heart was in her throat as she leaned over him.