Bike Week Blues (22 page)

Carl was light years ahead of us. Heck, he
was on the cutting edge—one of the people who made it all
happen.

“Okay, now to crack the code. Just so
happens I have a great program. I used it a while back when I was
working on the Bible code.”

“The Bible code?” I echoed.

“Yeah, many people think there are hidden
messages in the Hebrew Bible. You know, like, if you pull out every
third letter, you get a message or prediction about the future. It
was the rage a few years ago, and I took a stab at it.”

I’d never heard of it. Of course, I’d come
to realize what a sheltered life I’d led. Tattooed boobs, Tae Kwon
Do, Ayurveda, a Bible code—I’d missed a lot. “Did you find any
messages in the Bible?”

“Some, nothing conclusive. Hundreds of
mathematicians are working on it, so I figured I’d let them take
the point. Besides, I got a lucrative consulting gig about that
time.” He leaned forward, studying a lightening fast scroll of
data. “We’re closing in,” he said excitedly, then pointed at the
corner of the screen. “I’ve got it!”

Fran entered the room and slid a tray with a
soft drink and a thick sandwich onto the counter. “What does it
say?”

Carl reached for the sandwich and took a
bite. “I don’t know. I’ve found the algorithm. It will take a few
minutes to translate the files.”

“I’ve put a batch of my frozen lasagna in
the oven so the boys will have something to eat when they get back.
Gosh, I hope they’ve found Penny Sue and Rich. This whole thing is
making me tense.”

That was an understatement. A hard knot had
formed in my stomach. If we didn’t hear something soon, I feared a
major bout of gastric distress. Knowing Ruthie had a similar
inclination, it was fortunate that every room had its own bathroom,
otherwise a monumental traffic jam was in the offing. Ruthie.
Omagosh, I’d forgotten about her. I checked my watch and wondered
how long it took to fill out a kidnapping report.

“The boys will call, won’t they?” Fran
asked. “They took a cell phone with them, right?”

“They’ll call,” Carl said, chewing slowly,
eyes riveted on the computer. He put the sandwich down and rubbed
his hands together. “All right, let’s see what we have.”

We were huddled together, reading over his
shoulder when Carl’s cell phone played the theme from
Rocky
.
My heart nearly stopped. Carl answered, and his forehead knit with
concern. My stomach did a belly flop.

“Come back,” he said and hung up. Frowning,
he looked at us. “Vulture and his guys took them to the tunnels at
Klondike, like we thought. But, all the guys found was the
transponder, smashed.”

Fran crossed herself.

My hand went to my heart as tears erupted.
“Oh, God.” I said a silent prayer.

Ruthie walked through the door at that
moment. “What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw my face.

I told her.

She collapsed on a stool and buried her head
in her hands.

“I’d better call the judge.”

“This might kill him,” Ruthie squeaked out.
“Doesn’t Judge Parker have heart trouble?”

“Someone should tell him in person in case
he has a spell,” Frannie said.

Zack. I’d have to call Zack to go over
there. He was the only person I knew how to contact.

Carl swiveled to face us. “Give me a few
more minutes.”

“We don’t have any more time! It’s getting
dark. We need to get a search going. Helicopters and airplanes and
boats.” I broke down completely, sobs coming in uncontrollable
waves. “We should never have gone along with Penny Sue’s silly
scheme. I’ll never forgive myself if ... I couldn’t say the
words.”

Fran put her arms around me. “It’s not your
fault. Penny Sue’s a strong-minded woman. You couldn’t have talked
her out of it.”

I blew my nose. No, I couldn’t. At least,
this way we have an inkling of what happened. If she’d gone it
alone, Penny Sue would be one of those people who simply
disappeared—a picture on milk cartons and telephone poles.

“Leigh,” Carl said. “Do what you have to do.
I’m going to work on these files and see if I can come up with any
clues on where they might be.”

I went to my bedroom to gather my thoughts
before calling Zack. I wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.
First, and foremost, because I hated the news I was about to relay.
Secondly, there was still a lot of pain tied up in the sound of his
voice. Third, I was not in the mood to discuss Ann and her
impending engagement. Finally, what if his hot honey answered?

I heard he’d moved in with her. I wondered
if he took her to his office parties? I’m sure those silicon
breasts were a big hit with the old partners like Bradford Davis.
Bradford represented Zack in our divorce, and I’d come to loathe
the man. I could still see his condescending, crooked smile.
Bradford was one man, along with my own worthless attorney, that
I’d like to backhand in the mouth one day. Sorry, Grammy. I know I
should turn the other cheek and practice forgiveness—it wasn’t in
me at the moment. The wounds were too fresh and deep.

I took a breath and steeled myself for the
conversation. Call Zack’s cell phone, which eliminated the
possibility that
she
might answer. Get right to the point.
Hit him between the eyes before he had time to make a snide
comment.

He answered on the second ring. “Zack, Penny
Sue’s been kidnapped. You need to go over to the judge’s house and
tell him in person. He has heart problems, and we’re afraid the
shock might be too much. Someone needs to be with him.”

“Kidnapped? When?”

“A couple of hours ago.”

“Who? Have you called the police?”

“A roughneck biker called Vulture. We think,
maybe, he’s someone the judge locked up. And, yes, Ruthie filed a
police report. But, with Bike Week down here, resources are
scarce.”

“You were there when it happened?”

“Ruthie and I were both there. It was clearly
personal.” I wasn’t going to mention the potshots at Penny Sue’s
license plate. That would only evoke a long lecture of about what
we should have done and didn’t. “We’re staying with a friend, Fran
Annina. Take down her phone number.” I heard him punching it into
his cell as I gave it out. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear
anything.” Then, I hung up and started to cry.

* * *

Bobby Barnes’ distinctive
bass voice
blasted me out of my stupor. I ran to the bathroom and splashed
water on my face. My eyelids were swollen and red. Crying always
did that to me. There wasn’t a darn thing I could do about it short
of ice packs, which I didn’t have time for. I hurried downstairs to
the kitchen. Bobby and most of the Klingons were sitting around the
table eating huge plates of lasagna and sopping Italian bread in
spiced olive oil. Carl and Saul were conspicuously missing.

A wave of emotion bubbled up when I saw
Bobby.

“We’ll find her, Leigh,” Bobby said. “We’re
working on a plan. Carl thinks he’s onto something. Rich was
working undercover for someone, but it’s not clear who. It seems
that Vulture and his wacko band of merry men are worse than we
thought.” Bobby swigged his soda. “Saul’s gone home to change and
get some stuff. One of our Navy buddies, Roger, is in town. They’re
going back to Klondike Beach to snake through the tunnels. They’re
covering the back door.”

“And, the front door?” I asked.

“That depends on what Carl finds.”

I wasn’t sure I liked hearing that.

Fran handed me a plate of lasagna. “Eat
something, honey. Starving won’t help Penny Sue. You may need the
strength. This could be a long night.” I nodded and sat at the
table next to a crew-cutted blond Klingon named Thomas.

I’d only taken a few bites of pasta when
Carl flew up the stairs from the Bat Cave with the laptop under his
arm. “Those friggin’ mudderfuc—” he caught his mother’s stern
glare, “—er, fruitcakes are into drugs and arms dealing!”

He set the computer on the kitchen counter
and typed in few codes. “Look at this email—it’s from Fox to
Shorty. There are several messages from Fox—that’s Rich’s code name
I think. He says the Scavenger—Vulture, probably—is dealing drugs
and using the profits to stockpile weapons. He’s not sure if the
arms are for resale or if the Scavenger is planning to use them
himself. Fox says Scavenger’s friends believe the Feds have
embedded chips in drivers’ licenses to track Americans. They also
think the CIA is conducting mind control experiments from
satellites.”

“Boy, those guys are sick,” Ruthie said.

“Shorty must be Rich’s contact. What’s the
email address? We could send him an email and tell him Rich has
been kidnapped,” I suggested.

“It’s a Hotmail address, the kind anyone can
set up from anywhere. I suspect the addresses are rotated and this
one is no longer in use.”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

Carl rubbed the back of his neck as he
thought. “Yeah, but then we’d have to explain what we were doing
with this computer.” He glanced at Bobby. “I have no idea what laws
we’re breaking.”

“Holy shit,” Thomas muttered, then glanced
at Fran and shrugged a
Sorry
. “These guys think satellites
are being used for mind control and a military satellite is going
up on the Atlas V. You don’t think they’re going to try to sabotage
the missile, do you?”

“I hope not,” Todd said quickly. “The
satellite’s nuclear powered. If the missile blows up, it’ll
contaminate the whole East Coast.”

“Holy cow!” Fran said. She uncorked a bottle
of red wine and poured a few fingers worth into a juice glass. She
chugged some, then tilted the bottle toward Ruthie, who
declined.

“When is the rocket going up?” I asked.

“They’ve stopped announcing the times until
twelve hours before launch, precisely because of terrorists’
threats,” Todd said. “I’ll check the Canaveral web page to see if
they’ve released it yet.”

“We’ve got to do something!” Fran took
another swallow of wine.

“Damn straight,” Thomas said. “I have no
desire to glow in the dark.” The other guys muttered agreement.

“The launch is tomorrow morning, right
before sunrise—six-fifteen,” Todd called from the stairwell to
Carl’s apartment.

“Isn’t the area secured? How could they
possibly get to the rocket?” I asked.

“A Stinger missile would do it,” Bobby
said.

“How could they get something like
that?”

Ruthie’s eyes went wide. “A shipment of
missiles and ammunition was hijacked last week in North Carolina.
And there was another in Georgia yesterday. The stories were in the
newspaper. Maybe Vulture’s gang was responsible.”

“Or, bought some of the hot cargo.”

“A Stinger’s range is about five miles,”
Bobby said. “That means they have to get a lot closer than Klondike
Beach. The gang must be headed for Playalinda, which borders the
Kennedy Space Center. That’s about ten miles from the tunnel we
found.”

“Ten miles? Could they cut a tunnel that
far?”

Bobby nodded. “Sure, fanatics are dogged if
nothing else. Extremists tunneled from Egypt to Palestine to
smuggle weapons. Drug traffickers dig tunnels from Mexico into
California. The Feds find one tunnel, the bad guys dig
another.”

“Vulture probably had to start that far
away,” Todd added. “Since nine-eleven, the Space Center’s tightened
security. Playalinda Beach is closed off for shuttle launches. I
don’t know what kind of precautions they take for military
rockets.”

“If the Cape has beefed up security, maybe
there’s no need to do anything. The park rangers will find Vulture
and Penny Sue,” Ruthie said hopefully.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Bobby said. “I
suspect Vulture has scoped out the park rangers routine and taken
steps to avoid them. That’s apparently why they’ve burrowed all
those tunnels through the brush. Who knows how long they’ve been
working on it? Probably worked at night for months, maybe
years.”

“Wait, if there is tighter security, how can
we get through?” I asked.

“The Bird of Prey could avoid detection.
Going in by water, we could save Saul and Roger ten miles of
crawling through the tunnels.

“Yes, but how can we find the gang without
going through the tunnels? There’s a lot of real estate between
Playalinda and Klondike.”

Carl grinned. “Infrared. I doubt these guys
are smart enough to shield their body heat. Even so, they probably
didn’t plan on having Penny Sue and Rich along. My sensors will
find them. All we’d have to do is run parallel to the coast and
scan. Yesterday was the new moon, so it will be dark tonight.
Vulture’s thugs will never see the Bird.”

“Is the Bird seaworthy?” Bobby asked
Carl.

“Of course, I’ve taken it out in the ocean
many times. And Todd is an expert yachtsman. I’ll let him take the
helm.”

Bobby sopped bread in olive oil and took a
bite. “Okay, Ace, I’m counting on you.” He flipped open his cell
and dialed Saul. “Change of plans. Come here,” he said, then gave
Saul the address and hung up. “No offense, but paintballs aren’t
going to make it with this group. I think we should create a
distraction and concentrate on rescuing Penny Sue and Rich. Saul
and Roger will take the gang down.”

Carl frowned. “We don’t know how many people
Vulture has. How can two men handle a whole gang?”

“Trust me; they can do it.” The force of
Bobby’s voice left no doubt.

“If they’re the back door, what’s the
front?” Ruthie asked. “What are we going to do?”

Bobby regarded her soberly. “You ladies are
going to stay here and answer the phone.”

“I don’t think so!” Fran flew around the
counter and gave Bobby the
look
. He drew back. “Don’t talk
down to me,” she warned.

“I may have been hasty in my statement.”
Bobby glanced sidelong at Carl. “On second thought, you women would
be a valuable asset. Penny Sue may be hysterical and need female
reassurance.”