Sins of the Titanic (A James Acton Thriller, #13) (35 page)

“Anything
illegit?”

“Nothing
we can find. He’s squeaky clean.”

“And his
contacts? Any indicator of who the others are?”

“Well, if
he’s number twelve, then I think we can safely assume there’s at least eleven
others.”

Child
laughed, spinning in his chair.

Leroux
and Morrison both looked at him. “What?” asked Leroux.

“Oh,
you’re gonna love this, boss! This idiot had his emails all routed through his
own personal server.”

“Are you
kidding me? Who does that?” A smile started to spread on Leroux’s face. If
Mashkov were stupid enough to have all his email routed through his own server,
a massive violation of any type of security protocols, they might have the
break they needed. He looked about the room, everyone having stopped what they
were doing, all just in as much elated shock as he was.

Morrison
cleared his throat. “So just what does that mean for us?”

Leroux
turned to his boss. “It means that every email he sent and received exited
their Dark Web and went onto the clearnet, the regular Internet.”

“So we
have copies?”

“Oh
yeah, Echelon would have picked them up. Now we just need to crack the encryption
and we’ll know everybody he ever sent an email to or received an email from.”

“Why
would anyone do that?”

Leroux
shrugged. “My guess is their entire communications network is on their own set
of hardware, possibly satellite based, and requires the use of a special piece
of hardware. I’m guessing Mr. Mashkov found that inconvenient, so had his own
IT guys set up the system to route all of the email through his own server so
he could read them on his laptop or iPhone, whatever. By doing that it’s secure
from normal prying eyes since it’s still encrypted—”

“But not
ours,” finished Morrison.

“Cuz we
ain’t normal!” laughed Child.

Morrison
gave him a look.

Child
clammed up, then pointed at the screen. “I’m pulling data now.”

“So what
you’re telling me is—”

Leroux
smiled at his boss. “We might be able to find out who the entire Assembly is.”

Morrison
inhaled audibly, looking at the screens, lines branching out across the globe
showing hundreds then thousands of communications.

“We’ve
got you now.”

Chinquapin Round Road, Annapolis, Maryland

Large delivery doors rolled up, Acton’s captor pulling them through
and bringing the SUV to a halt. The ride back from the university had been
somber as he pictured Tucker at the end-of-term barbecue less than a month ago.
He had been so proud of his first granddaughter, a cute little thing that had
behaved remarkably well for having so much attention heaped on her.

Always
smiling, always whistling.

He had
to admit he hated whistlers—it drove him nuts. Yet for some reason Tucker’s
whistle was always reassuring—and only heard when he thought he was alone,
patrolling the halls.

A
whistle that would never be heard again.

He just
prayed it wasn’t a student that walked in to find the body. It might be
something they’d never recover from.

He
looked at Laura as he stepped out, she immediately sensing his mood, giving him
a “what’s wrong?” look. “Tucker’s dead. She shot him.”

Laura
gasped, Mai sobbed and Tommy moaned.

He’s
going to die soon. Probably a brain hemorrhage or something.

“Here
they come,” said one of the guards, opening the doors that had just closed a
moment before. Another black SUV rolled through, the doors sealing them in once
more as two of the woman’s henchmen climbed out. They opened the rear doors and
Acton’s heart sank as he recognized the new arrivals.

We’re
all going to die.

Steve
Wainwright stepped to the ground, helping another woman out whom Acton assumed
was the man’s wife, his sister Judy following. Everyone looked terrified, and
Steve’s eyes widened when he saw Acton and Laura.

Acton
turned to the woman. “What are they doing here? You said you’d let us go once
you had the painting.”

The
woman shook her head. “No, Professor, I said we would part ways.” Acton’s
stomach flipped as she raised her weapon and pointed it at Steve. “It’s time to
clean up the mess you created, Mr. Wainwright.”

Steve
was terrified, that much was clear to Acton, but he was of a generation that
was a hell of a lot tougher than most alive today. He squared his shoulders, drew
a long breath and glared at the woman, placing himself between her and his family.

And said
nothing.

“This
isn’t necessary,” said Acton, stepping slightly to his left to block any clear
shot at Laura and his students. “You have the painting. If anyone asks, we’ll
just say it turned out to be a fake. End of story, nobody will ever know. You
don’t have to do this!”

Her
expression was cold, not even an inkling evident that he was getting to her.
She looked at him. “I have my orders. But don’t worry Professor Acton, you’ll
live until your former student appears to save the day.” Confusion gripped
Acton and he was about to ask who she meant when he suddenly realized it was
Kane she was after. Yes, she was eliminating anyone who had been exposed to
their secret about the Titanic, but she was also using it as an opportunity to
get her hands on Kane.

But
why?

He was
about to ask when her weapon fired.

Steve flinched,
his wife screamed, and Judy fell back against the side of the SUV, sliding to
the floor, blood pumping from a hole in her chest, the shocked look on her face
triggering a white rage deep within Acton. He took a step toward the woman but six
guns were immediately trained on him.

“You
bitch.”

It was
Laura who said it, Acton’s rage contained for a moment by reality. He looked
over at a sobbing Steve, his sister cradled in his arms as she bled out, the
life draining rapidly from her face as she looked up at her brother.

“I’m so
sorry!” he cried, “So sorry! I should’ve left it alone, I should’ve never
unlocked that door!”

Judy
reached up with a shaking hand and pressed it against his cheek. “It’s…” She
didn’t have the strength to finish, her hand falling to her lap, her head
lolling to the side, all life gone from her eyes.

Steve
turned to the woman, still holding his dead sister. “I’m going to kill you. I’m
going to kill everyone who means anything to you. I don’t care what it takes,
if I have to come back from Hell itself to torment you until your dying days,
I’m going to end you.”

The
woman raised her weapon and pointed it at Steve’s wife. “Who else have you
told?”

“No
one.”

She cocked
the weapon, it a needless action that impressively made a point.

“Steve!”
cried his wife, cowering behind him, his own bravado broken with the single
click. He held out a protective arm, tears streaming down his face, a face
Acton was quite certain had shed few tears of fear and sorrow in its life.

“Please,
I’m begging you. We told no one, I swear. Just Congressman Mahoney and the
professors, that’s it.”

“Didn’t
you tell Dean Milton?”

Acton
felt his stomach tighten at the mention of his best friend’s name.

God I
hope he’s safe somewhere.

“Right,
yes, I forgot, he was there.”

“Who
else?”

The look
of shame on Steve’s face spoke volumes to his character as his eyes
involuntarily darted toward Mai, the tiny girl shaking like a leaf, holding
onto an unresponsive Tommy as she squeezed her eyes shut, her head buried in
his shoulder.

“Miss
Trinh,” said the woman, Mai yelping at the sound of her name. “And no one
else?”

“N-no.
Once we figured out that this might be a big deal, we went home and decided no
one else should know, at least not for now.”

The
woman lowered her weapon. “Good. It appears the infection is almost contained.”
She raised her weapon and pointed it at Wainwright. “Thank you for your
assistance.”

“We’ve got a target down, I repeat, a target down. Looks like one of
the new arrivals. I don’t have a clear shot on the shooter. There’s a metal
girder in the way.”

Shit!

Red
sprinted down the side of the building, Wings and Jagger on his heels. They had
been forced to retreat when the second SUV arrived. The cover of night was
helpful, though nothing could hide three men standing against a completely
smooth wall. They came to a stop at an employee entrance, Red pointing at the
handle. Wings tried it and shook his head, quickly rigging it with an explosive
charge.

“Can you
reposition?” asked Red, activating his comm.

“Negative,
if I do I lose my angle on the other targets. I’m reading six hostiles now. Better
move quick, I think someone is about to get it. Wait, she’s lowering her
weapon. Ah shit, taking the shot.”

“Fire in
the hole,” hissed Red, squeezing the detonator. Glass shattered overhead, half
a dozen heavy panes obliterated, the shards falling straight down, the charges
enough to take out the windows though not send the deadly pieces hurtling
toward the very people they were trying to save. At the same time Wings
triggered the detonator on the door, blasting the locking mechanism apart, Jagger
yanking it open. Red surged forward, Glock raised as Jimmy’s first shot rang
out from across the street.

Acton spun around, ducking, rushing toward Laura and the kids as
glass rained down from above. He heard a shot and looked over his shoulder to
see one of the gunmen that had arrived with Steve’s family drop, a massive hole
in his chest. The others turned, weapons raised, looking for the shooter as
another dropped only feet from Acton.

He made
a decision.

He dove
for the man’s gun, grabbing his weapon and scurrying behind the front of the
second SUV, taking aim at the woman. She dropped, spinning toward him, one leg
extended in front of her as both her weapons came to bear on him, both barrels
blasting deadly lead in his direction.

He
ducked as Laura screamed, scrambling around to the other side, putting the
large tire between him and their captor. He popped up to take a look and
spotted three men surging around the office enclosure.

There’s
more of them!

Several
shots rang out, slamming into his cover, sending him back into hiding. He
leaned out, the angle not giving the woman a shot, and took aim at the new
arrivals.

Then
hesitated.

You
don’t know who they are.

He had
to consider they might be friendlies, someone clearly attacking their position
from outside. He lowered his weapon, hoping his gut was serving him well today.
He rushed down the passenger side of the vehicle, someone delivering
suppression fire from the rear bumper toward the outside, silencing the sniper
for now. Acton rounded the bumper and put his weapon to the man’s head, squeezing
the trigger.

He
dropped in a heap.

Katz rose from behind the SUV, spotting the three new arrivals
coming directly toward her. She raised her weapon and aimed at the fuse panel
on the wall twenty feet away, pumping several rounds into it, sparks bursting
from the shorted circuits, the entire warehouse suddenly bathed in complete
darkness.

And she
the only one prepared for it.

She
rushed toward the second SUV, its driver’s side door still open and dove
inside. Standard protocol was to leave the keys in the ignition in the event a
speedy exit was necessary and she was pleased to see her men had followed their
training. She jammed her foot on the brake and pushed the ignition switch as
she reached over and pulled the door shut. A hail of gunfire slammed into the
side of the SUV, the bullet resistant window splintering as she shoved the
vehicle into gear and hammered on the gas. Gunfire continued to tear into the
SUV as she aimed the vehicle toward the far side of the warehouse, keeping her
head down so the sniper across the street wouldn’t have a shot. The closed
doors to the rear loading dock beckoned and she rose, bracing herself for the
impact, unsure how strong they might be.

A bullet
tore into her dash, scoring the leather and passing through the windshield.

And she
knew that was the best shot the sniper had.

Red flipped down his night vision goggles and rushed forward, weapon
raised. Someone who had been standing behind the second SUV was suddenly
exposed and Red immediately recognized him as Professor Acton.

“Friendly
at two o’clock!”

He
opened fire on the rapidly accelerating SUV, as did Jagger and Wings, though it
appeared to have some sort of upgrades, their bullets not penetrating the door,
only the window splintering. He took aim at the tires but it was too late, the
vehicle blasting through a set of rear doors and into the night.