Paradise Falls (45 page)

“Heavy,” he muttered.

Jennifer crouched beside him as he sliced the box open, stopped to look around again to make sure no one else was walking down the row between the containers, and lifted out a package from inside.

“What is that?”

He didn’t answer her, but took a picture instead.

It didn’t look like drugs to Jennifer. It looked like a brick of bright yellow clay, wrapped up in a layer of vacuum-sealed plastic. Jacob tested its weight in his hands, and visibly paled. He carefully wedged it back in place, closed the box, then hefted it back into the container with a grunt.

“Help me with the door.”

“What is it?”

“I need to see inside the others.”
 

Getting the container closed was a little easier. Jennifer looked around uneasily as Jacob walked down the row. He was reading the markings on the containers. He picked one, and she rushed to help him get it open and swung the doors open again.

The inside was full of large crates, about six feet long, in stacks. Some sat on their ends. Jennifer wasn’t sure what language, but the markings on the crates were all in Cyrillic. Jacob took pictures, standing back to get more of the crates in view.

There were metal cases, too, along one wall. They were strapped down with thick yellow nylon safety lines. Jacob carefully undid the ratcheting straps one at a time and grunted as he yanked open the metal latches running along the side of the case. It reminded Jennifer of a coffin. She rushed to help him swing the lid up, and blinked a few times when she saw what lay inside. Nestled in a heavy layer of protective foam was a metal tube, as long as Jennifer was tall, with a flared end. Towards the other end, there was a big box. Jacob pulled at the foam, revealing a screen.

“Jacob,” Jennifer whispered, “What is this thing?”

He swallowed. She could see his throat moving under the mask. He snapped a picture with one hand, and then carefully closed the lid.

“We need to get back to the Martyr. Now.”

“Why? What is it?”

“Come on.”

Hurriedly, he closed the container and took her arm, pulling her along as he jogged towards the fence. He stopped and crouched, and let her go through force before wriggling under himself. On the other side he stopped again, looking long and hard back at the camp before he again took her arm and moved low across the road. Once they hit the ditch he got up and sprinted until, visibly winded, he dropped back to a jog. He didn’t speak until they got back to the vehicle and he leaned on the side.

“Jacob?”

“That yellow stuff was plastic explosives,” said Jacob. “Semtex. That other container, those crates. From the markings, those are RPGs. That was a stinger missile in the big box.”

“Stinger missile?”

“Ground to air. Use it to shoot down airplanes.”

Jennifer’s mouth fell open.

“
What?”

“This is bigger than we thought,” said Jacob. “I don’t understand. I would assume they’re moving the missile launchers out. Maybe they use the drug money to pay for them and ship them out through the same channels. The semtex doesn’t make any sense.”

“Why not?”

“It’s for construction and demolition. It’s not for throwing at people or something like that. It’s stable, relatively safe to handle, and fairly difficult to set off. The military uses plastic explosives for clearing obstacles, but it’s mostly used for peaceful purposes. Excavating rock, demolishing buildings, that kind of thing. Terrorists used it in the 80’s. It was pretty much undetectable back then, but that doesn’t work anymore. We need to go. Now.”

Jacob boosted her up into her seat, lowered himself in, and fired up the machine.

It was a long ride back, even cutting through fields and ditches. Jacob was quiet, gripping the yoke tightly. He yanked his mask off and tucked it in his pocket. Jennifer could see his reflection in the windows. His face was pale and grim. Her face itched from wearing the mask, and she scratched at her cheeks and sat back in the seat. Eventually he switched from the electric motors to the roaring engine and took off, but the joy in his face was gone and he stared ahead grimly as he wound the Martyr up the back side of the hill towards the house, swung it around and rolled back into the carriage house.

“I need a more covert location to store her,” he said, after the engine cutoff.

“Jacob?” said Jennifer. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m just being paranoid.”

She stepped down and folded her arms over her chest, and gave him the eyebrow.
 

“Moreso than usual. Demolitions, Jennifer. You’d use explosives like that for imploding an old building, or…” he trailed off, sighing.

“Or what? Just say it.”

“Taking down a bridge.”

She covered her mouth with her hand but the sound she made came out anyway.

“It was an accident,” he said, leaning back to sit on metal shroud over the big, muddy wheel. “I’m sure of it. I looked at that report a dozen times. It was caused by negligence and greed, but the bridge collapsed because of structural issues and age. It wasn’t blown up. Everyone would know if it was. There’d be no way to hide that.”

 
“What if the report was lying?”

He looked up at her.

Jennifer’s hands fell to her sides.

“If somebody running a coverup told the investigators what to put in that report, they could make it match the original engineer’s report on the bridge’s condition before the collapse, couldn’t they?”

“Possibly,” he said. “Still, we have no proof. I need to make sure I have secure backups of these photos.”

He looked at her, reading the look on her face.

“I don’t want to jump to that conclusion, Jennifer. I can’t let myself do that.”

“Why?”

He pressed his eyes shut and trembled.

“I’m not sure I’d be able to control myself.”

Jennifer swallowed and put her hand on his shoulder, then his neck.

“You’re burning up. Let’s get you out of that vest.”

He stood up, visibly steadying himself, and walked slowly to the house. Jennifer scanned the treeline in the dark as Faisal opened the door. Jacob headed for the basement but Jennifer took his camera and gave it to Faisal to back up the pictures, took him upstairs, and sat him on a chair in the bedroom and stripped off his utility harness and vest. Jacob winced and sucked in a breath as he maneuvered his arm out of the gear. Jennifer helped him tug off of his shirt and suppressed the urge to suck in a breath when she saw his muscles flexing and pulling against his scars. His shoulder wound was not bleeding, but she changed the bandage anyway. Once his muddy clothes were off he sprawled on the bed.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” she said, wriggling out of her own gear.

“I’m not pushing myself hard enough.”

Though she was very tempted not to, Jennifer had to duck into the bathroom to finish changing. She was too tired for a shower, and crawled onto the bed next to him.

“So what do we do? We should tell somebody about this, shouldn’t we?”

“I’m working on that.”

“Tell me what you’re planning.”

“Okay, fine, I have no idea. I’m still a little shocked.”

Jennifer laughed softly, but there was a bitter undertone.

“I’ve been thinking about what to do with my findings. I think bringing it to the media would work but I have no idea how far James’ influence would reach. I need intel. We need to go that fundraiser.”

“Right,” said Jennifer.

“We’re going to hit the lawyer’s office, first.”

“You mean break in, right? We’re leaving the tank at home.”

“Tanks are very useful.”

Jennifer propped her head on her hand and scowled at him. Jacob smirked up at the ceiling, but his eyes were flat, sad. He took a long breath and winced as he let it out.

“You’re not doing anything tomorrow. I’m putting my foot down.”

“No,” said Jacob.

Jennifer scowled, but the edges of her lips trembled as it threatened to turn into a smile.

“We’re going shopping. You don’t have anything to wear to a fifty grand a plate fundraiser. Actually, it’s two-fifty for the seats we’re getting.”

6.

“We could go to Sabrina Ann,” said Jennifer. “Katie got her prom dress there. They have display dresses and once-worn stuff.”

Jacob gave her a look, and smirked.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m not buying you a used evening gown.”

Jennifer shifted uncomfortably in the Aston Marin’s comfortable seat. Jacob hadn’t really bought her anything so far. That wasn’t true. He did buy her a bulletproof vest, but that was different. The idea of any man taking her somewhere and blowing a bunch of money on baubles to adorn her was foreign and she wasn’t sure she agreed with it. Jennifer’s jewelry box was sparse, she wore only light makeup and hadn’t worn a skirt in years. Three-quarters of her wardrobe was work clothes, mostly men’s clothing in smaller sizes. It was cheaper and lasted longer.

They were about a half an hour from Philadelphia now. Jacob slowed down on the Interstate, the Aston Martin skimming along at a mostly sane seventy-five. It felt positively slow after winding through the back roads.

“So where are we going?”
 

“There’s a Saks in Bala Cynwyd.”

“What?” Jennifer chirped. “I can’t afford that.”

Jacob let out a long sigh.

“I can. I could probably buy the store if I felt like it. We’re going to a major event. We need to look the part. You need shoes, accessories, the whole nine yards.”

“What about you?”

“A tux is a tux. I’ll splurge on some brand or other in case someone would be able to tell.”

Jennifer had gone shopping around Philadelphia before. From the outside, the Saks looked like any other store in one of the dozen malls in the area. She was already tempted to suggest they drive down to Delaware to avoid the sales tax, but she also knew Jacob was dismiss the idea. He parked out in the open at the far end of the lot and was quick enough on his feet now to open the door for her. Taking his hand, she stepped out, and walked across the lot.

“Fifty bucks says someone parks right next to us.”

Jennifer snorted.

“Are you okay?”

It must have been the look on her face. When they walked into the mall and she saw the sign for Saks, her stomach did a backflip. The idea of spending money like that made her palms sweaty. Jacob squeezed her hand, which he was still holding. Jennifer squeezed back. Stepping over the threshold into the store was worse. They didn’t make it ten steps before a saleswoman approached. She was smiling, but Jennifer felt appraised anyway and looked at the floor until Jacob gave her a little nudge.

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

“We’re attending Senator Katzenberg’s fundraiser later this week,” said Jacob. “Jennifer needs a full ensemble. Dress, shoes, accessories, new purse.”

Jennifer shot him a look.

“I need a tux. My other one never came back from the cleaners.”

The woman nodded.

“I’ll set you up with one of our personal stylists, ma’am. Right this way.”

Jacob let go, but Jennifer almost didn’t. She let her hand fall away from his and as the saleswoman led her away, Jennifer suddenly felt weirdly alone. She’d been around Jacob in some way or another for what felt like forever. The store was too big, too open, too brightly lit. She followed behind like a chastised child, and inwardly wished this would all just be over.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” said Jennifer.

“Were you two in an accident or something? That bandage on your face.”

“Oh, yes. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Jennifer stepped into an elevator with her and shrugged.

“You should see the other guy.”

The saleswoman shot her a confused look but said nothing until the elevator stopped, and she motioned for Jennifer to step out. Another woman came to meet her immediately folding out of the racks of dresses and mannequin displays. The other woman was already gone when Jennifer turned around. The new one offered her hand.

“Hello. I’m Catherine. Mister Kane called ahead for you. You’re Jennifer, yes?”

“He did,” said Jennifer. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Yes. I understand you’ll be attending the fundraiser.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Ah. We need to find you an ensemble then. An evening gown, to start.”

“Okay,” Jennifer sighed. “I don’t want anything that shows too much skin.”

The woman nodded, but Jennifer felt like she was looking down her nose.

“I see. So a short sleeve, then.”

“Do you have long sleeve ones?”

“A few, yes. Is that what you’d prefer?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, then. Why don’t we look at this one?”

The personal stylist began rattling the designer’s name and such, and held up a dress. It was black. She liked that. Jacob liked black on her, she knew. There was a problem, though. It had no back. She felt itchy just thinking about walking into any kind of gathering dressed like that. There was a sudden quiver in her stomach

“I can’t wear that.”

The stylist blinked a few times. “Why?”

“It doesn’t have a back.”

The woman nodded slowly and smiled.

“I think I know what you need. Wait here.”

Jennifer hugged herself and looked at dresses she would never dare to wear while she waited for the stylist to come back. There were other women speaking to other stylists, but Jennifer still felt alone. It was cold up here, too. The stylist came back, and Jennifer spotted her in the mirror. Draped over her arm was a long black gown with long sleeves. It would cover her from toe to neck, front and back, with only a slit up the back side.

“I think this is you. Would you like to try it on?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“I’ll help you with the zipper.”

Jennifer froze.

“Ah, no, that’s okay. I can handle it.”

Catherine shrugged, slightly, and walked her to the dressing area. Jennifer locked herself inside and looked at the dress. Then she glanced up, looking for a hidden camera, before she worked up the will to slip out of her clothes and step into the gown. The fabric was cool on her skin, and she did have quite a time twisting and contorting to get the zipper up. When it was finally on she turned and looked at herself in the mirror.