Dead Man's Switch (13 page)

“Blake Watt?” Murdoch shut the engine off.

“Something's happening on the island,” King said. He quietly unfastened his seat belt, making sure to talk loudly so Murdoch wouldn't hear the slight snap of release. “Something bad. Blake was putting together information on it. Everything is on the laptop.”

“And you've got the password.”

“Yeah,” King said. He was waiting for Murdoch to open the lid. The light from the screen would be a distraction.

Murdoch lifted the laptop. He began to open the lid.

That's when King leaned down a little and reached for his sock. No way would he have even thought about this in an enclosed space. Because then it would be just as bad for him as Murdoch.

But the Jeep was open to the night sky.

“What's the password?” Murdoch demanded. His eyes were on the screen.

King straightened.

“Pepper spray,” King said.

“Pepper spray?” Murdoch turned slightly to King.

King held his breath, closed his eyes, and punched the spray button on the little canister he'd just taken from his sock.

He was rewarded by a scream of agony from Murdoch.

Still holding his breath and eyes still closed, King reached up for the Jeep roll bar and pulled himself into a standing position. Using the roll bar as a guide, he stepped onto the fender and then jumped away from the Jeep.

Then, finally, away from any droplets of the spray, he looked back at the Jeep. Murdoch was clawing uselessly at the sky above him.

King pulled open the driver's door and yanked Murdoch by the collar, and Murdoch sprawled onto the ground and began to vomit.

King held his breath again and felt around inside the Jeep. Bingo. The EID.

The electric pistol felt great in his hand. He leaned down and zapped Murdoch, who gurgled in renewed agony and more convulsions. He gave Murdoch a full 20 seconds, matching what Murdoch had given Mack.

Then King went back to the Jeep to help his father.

CHAPTER 26

“I love you, son.”

Not the first words King expected from Mack when King stepped back into the house holding a roll of duct tape he'd just put to good use.

Mack was standing at the kitchen table, hands solid on the tabletop, arms splayed. He was panting as he tried to regain his energy.

“I love you, son.”

King was panting himself as he stared at his father. King had expected questions. Like “Where did you go?”

Answer: I drove the Jeep about a quarter mile away, off the road and into some bushes where it might be hard to find, and then ran back to the house.

Or “Where is Murdoch?”

Answer: Duct taped into a tube. Rolled under some bushes at the side of the house. Well hidden.

Or “What are we going to do now?”

Answer: I don't know. Run, I guess. Find a way to keep you out of jail (even though you deserve it) because watching Murdoch zap you with the EID filled me with a rage beyond anything I could comprehend, and I realized that yes, I love you too, but I don't want to say it. Or say that I love you so much that even though you're doing something criminal on the island, I will protect and hide you.

Mack croaked out his next words. “And I'm saying I love you because if we don't get off this island alive, it's something you need to know, and I should have said it a lot earlier.”

“Yeah,” King said. “Well, I hate talking about it too. And some things you don't need to say because you prove it every day. Okay? Now, how are we going to fix things?”

Then Mack asked the expected question. “Where did you go?”

After zapping Murdoch with the EID, King had gone to the passenger side of the Jeep and lifted Mack out and half dragged him into the house and onto a couch. Mack's body had been trembling with aftereffects of the shock.

“Hid Murdoch first. He's rolled up in duct tape under a bush. I waited until he finished all his puking and then taped up his mouth too. Didn't want him to puke into the duct tape and drown. Put tape over his eyes too. Wish I could be there when they pull the tape away and rip out his eyebrows. I wanted to kill him for hurting you.”

Mack managed a weak snort. He tried to stand straight. Couldn't. He leaned on the table again. “I might need a few more minutes. The Jeep. You moved it.”

Not a question. A statement. Like Mack trusted him to be smart.

“They're going to come looking for us,” King said. “They're expecting you and Murdoch out at the SCC anytime. This is going to be the first place they check, right?”

Neither of them wasted time with the other questions yet. Both of them had obviously stepped over a line, and there was no going back. Escape first. Then the luxury of second-guessing whatever they had done.

“My closet,” Mack said. “Black sweat pants, shirts, and shoes. Get a set for you and for me. Look on the top shelf. Black shoe polish. Grab a facecloth. We're going to need it for our faces.”

Again, no time for questions, including why Mack would have that stuff.

When King got back, Mack was standing without the table for help, taking deep breaths.

King threw sweat pants, a jersey, and the can of shoe polish on the table.

“Not dressing you,” King said.

“Not going to let you,” Mack said.

This felt good to King, his new role as an equal to his father. King stripped down to his underwear, dropping his clothes on the floor.

King was faster getting dressed than Mack. Of course, he hadn't sustained 20 seconds of electric voltage to short-circuit his neurons.

“Run next door,” Mack said. “Get that stupid dog. Bring it back.”

King gave his dad a puzzled look.

“No time to explain. We've got maybe five minutes before they swarm this place.”

King ran from the house and slipped into the yard next door, where Patches pulled against the long rope that tethered him to a post in a circle of worn-out grass. Patches gave a little yelp in greeting.

King unsnapped the dog's collar from the rope and dragged Patches back to the house.

Mack had scooped up King's clothes from the floor, put them into a plastic bag, and duct taped the bag into a compressed tube.

“Hold the dog still.”

Patches wagged his tail in total noncomprehension as Mack put the plastic bag on the dog's back and began wrapping duct tape around the dog's body to hold it there like a saddle.

“Guessing they tracked you to the old prison by something in your clothes. Probably your jacket. Device would be too small to find easily. If it's in there, they can start looking for you in some strange places.”

Mack went to the door and held it open.

“Hey, stupid dog,” Mack said. “Freedom.”

Patches was smart enough to know what an open door and no leash meant. With a happy yelp, Patches bolted with a scratching of claws on the floor and was gone without looking back.

Mack grabbed the shoe polish.

“Come here,” he said to King.

It had been a while since King had been physically this near to his father. They were almost eye to eye as Mack spread shoe polish on King's face and neck. Mack's fingers were strong, pushing hard on King's skin.

“Now me,” Mack said, handing the can to King.

Mack maintained eye contact.

“Getting a feeling that you don't like me much right now,” Mack said.

“Brilliant,” King answered.

“Let's make sure we get a chance to sort it out later,” Mack said. “But for now, I think it's best we get moving. That stupid dog isn't going to buy us much time. They're good at tracking things at night.”

“Don't we need to take anything?”

“Nope,” Mack answered. “Trust me.”

CHAPTER 27

They were a hundred yards from the house, jogging inland, when King spoke.

“What's the matter with the shoreline back there?” King asked.

“You say that like you know there's danger.”

“You've given this some thought,” King answered. “Black sweats, my size, in your closet. Black sneakers, my size. Like you've been ready for us to run.”

They were on a gentle rise, headed toward the tree line that started closer to the center of the island.

Mack didn't answer, just kept a good rhythm to their jogging.

“Easy escape,” King said, “would be to have a boat hidden as close as possible to our house. Three minutes of jogging gets us to the shoreline, and we're on the water.”

This seemed utterly surreal. The two of them on the run. Because King had assaulted the warden with pepper spray and then gone a step further and duct taped him and squirreled him into a bush.

But then it seemed surreal to King that the man he was escaping with had hidden more than a quarter of a million dollars. Money he had earned for reasons that King couldn't even guess. All because a kid who drowned had been sending King on a chase, directed in cyberspace.

No sense thinking about it all, King told himself. Roll with the flow. Or more accurately, jog with the flow.

“I know stuff,” Mack finally said. He stopped, barely breathing hard.
“And they know I know stuff. I couldn't tell you. They were using you as leverage. They promised something would happen to you if I let you off the island. It's why you couldn't visit Ella. And that was killing me as much as it was killing you.”

Mack put up a hand and cocked his head, listening. He seemed satisfied at what he heard. Or didn't hear.

“And they also threatened Ella's coma would end with her death.”

“What!”

“It's like they've got her in a prison,” Mack said. “She's helpless and can't move. So I had to pretend everything was normal. I couldn't tell you. Didn't want to tell you. It wasn't that I didn't trust you. I just wanted to protect you.”

He waved his hands. “Obviously, things have changed. So yes, I've had an escape plan in mind. Even Murdoch had to admit that if I didn't visit Ella at the hospital once or twice it would look bad. I bought some stuff for escape each trip, and I've done some planning. You would be right about the shoreline. They've got thermal sensors everywhere. Keeping a boat hidden wasn't going to do it. They'd know down to the second when we got into the boat. A minute later, a chopper would be there. We'd be sitting ducks.”

Mack began jogging again. “They've got the entire shoreline rigged with sensors. Hidden cameras too. They know if someone gets on the island. Or gets off. The whole island is a prison.

King kept pace. “Except for the northwest corner, right? At the cliffs. That's where we're headed. No point putting sensors there.”

There was a stretch of about a half mile where the island rose vertically from the strait. At the top of the rocky cliff, it was a 100-foot drop to jagged rocks in shallow water. Seals loved to congregate beyond the rocks.

“You're wrong,” Mack said. “They've got sensors there too in case someone found a way down the cliffs. But yeah, that's where we're headed.”

“That's going to take us through the forbidden zone. No way to make it past the thermal sensors.”

“Not much choice,” Mack said. “At least it will put us in the trees.
Choppers won't get us when we're in that cover. If we move fast, we can get through the zone and to the cliffs before they can send anyone in after us.”

“Then what?” King asked.

“One thing at a time,” Mack answered.

They were almost at the edge of the trees.

“Mack,” King said. “How are we going to protect Mom?”

Mack kept jogging.

King thought Mack hadn't heard. “Mack, what about Mom? You said they were using her as leverage. She's like a prisoner to them. Now they know you're on the run with me. What's the plan to make sure she's safe?”

More jogging.

“Mack—”

His dad stopped again. He put his hands on King's shoulders. “It's what I would have wanted her to do if things were reversed. We both love you more than you can ever know.”

“Mack?”

“Don't ask, okay?” Mack started jogging again. Faster. Harder. As if he were trying to outrun a demon.

Then King figured it out. Mack had been forced to choose. Save his wife or save his son.

CHAPTER 28

“Chopper,” King said.

They were maybe a hundred yards from the first plateau on the nearest hill, now both breathing hard.

Still, above his panting, King caught the
throb-throb
of the chopper engine—felt it at first more than heard it. King glanced back. Seconds later, just above the house they'd left behind, beams of light cut downward from the night.