Slaves to Evil - 11 (7 page)

Matt was still thinking about Lennox’s files. He needed some idea of what the man was really up to and didn’t have a lot of other options. He hadn’t seen a keypad for an alarm system at the front door. There wasn’t one by the door from the kitchen to the garage either. Maybe he could get into the house when the family was out or asleep. It seemed odd that a policeman wouldn’t have an alarm, but they had just moved in. Maybe they hadn’t installed it yet. But even without the challenge of an alarm system, the doors would presumably be locked. He really needed to learn to pick locks one of these days. In the meantime, maybe he could leave himself an opening.

Matt used the bathroom excuse. He went to the side door he’d spotted at the end of the hall. The doorknob had a small button that locked it. He unlocked the door and confirmed that it now opened from the outside. Of course, anyone in the family could notice this and relock the door anytime, but he might get lucky.

When cleanup was finished, Kathy packed some leftovers and gave them to Matt. On his way out, he paused at the door. “Thanks for inviting me,” he said.

“Thanks for coming,” she replied. Matt stood there for another moment, not wanting to abandon her. But there was no good reason to stay.

Maple Grove, North Carolina

It was another hot day in Maple Grove when Matt accompanied Brady to the parking garage. The man’s empty eye sockets had collapsed and his entire face caved inward, as if being slowly pulled into a black hole. At first Matt wondered why Brady was wearing a jacket in such weather. Then he saw the shoulder holster concealed beneath.

Everett was already there, squeezing his bulk into the back of a black SUV, presumably assembling the explosive inside. Peter was there too, handing him tools. Owen was pacing the garage nervously, serving as lookout. Matt realized he’d never seen the man in anything but a plain black T-shirt and jeans. He wore the same outfit today. Below the short sleeves, his arms were streaked with inflamed red veins, which had burst into blood blisters in a few places.

Brady approached Everett. “How’s it coming?” he asked.

“I think we’re set.”

“Good work.” He waited as the man extricated himself from the SUV, then reached back in and brought out the remote trigger.

He handed it to Brady. “Just flick this switch and it’s live.” Brady nodded. Owen and Peter looked at the little device with awe.

Matt asked Everett, “Can I see the device?” He tried to look as excited as everyone else. Everett clearly knew his work was being evaluated and didn’t appreciate it. He glanced at Brady, who said nothing.

“Sure,” said Everett, stepping aside. Matt climbed into the back of the truck.

The cramped space inside was even hotter. It smelled of stale sweat. Matt saw three steel barrels connected by wires and pipes. He was tempted to disconnect something but had no idea what might disarm the bomb and what might set it off. He looked at the small circuit board wired to the device. This was probably the trigger that the remote activated. He could unhook a couple of wires but had no idea if that would work either. Not to mention that Everett would spot the sabotage easily if he checked the device again.

Right on cue, he poked his head in. “Problem?”

“No,” said Matt. “Looks good.”

He crawled out of the SUV, trying to come up with another plan. He could disable the vehicle, maybe deflate the tires, or pull out a fuse. But could he do it and get away before Brady drew his gun?

The veteran soldier addressed his fellow Patriots. “I can’t tell you how proud I am to be here with you boys today. The world is full of people who complain about the problems they see. Not many have the balls to do something about it.”

Everett and Owen chuckled. Peter fairly beamed with pride. Matt had a sudden inspiration.

“Would you lead us in a prayer?” he asked Brady.

Brady smiled, flattered by the suggestion. “Of course.”

The four men lowered their heads and closed their eyes as he began to speak. Matt stepped slowly and quietly toward the driver’s door. He’d pop the hood, grab the distributor wire, and take off down the exit stairs before the Patriots figured out what was happening. He took a few more silent steps and reached the door. Matt glanced inside and saw something shiny. A ring of keys, hanging right in the ignition. He grinned. This might actually work.

Brady was still praying. Everyone’s eyes were still closed. Matt swiftly pulled the door open, leaned in, snatched the keys, and ran like hell.

“Matt?” he heard Brady call. He was almost halfway to the exit door.

“Stop!” said Brady more forcefully. A gunshot echoed loudly in the enclosed garage. The bullet hit the concrete a few feet in front of Matt. He stopped instinctively. He looked up at the exit again. Not quite close enough…

Brady strode up to Matt, pistol in hand. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Matt tried to think of any possible innocent explanation, then gave up. “This is wrong,” he said. “And you know it.”

“The hell I do.” The rest of the Patriots gathered behind Brady. Everett glared at Matt fiercely. The other two looked confused, waiting for some explanation that would clear this up.

Brady held out his hand. “Give me the keys,” he demanded.

Matt put them into his pocket. “No.”

The Patriot hesitated for only a moment before raising the gun to fire. It was just long enough for Matt to dive behind the nearest car, a white Volkswagen bug. Brady shot at him twice. A window shattered and chunks of safety glass fell on Matt.

He crouched behind the car, with the ring of keys sitting heavily in his front pocket. He’d stopped them for now. He just had to keep himself alive long enough to figure out his next move. But he could already hear Brady’s footsteps as he closed in to finish the job.

Matt returned to home base with the Thanksgiving leftovers. He’d give them to Elena. Small compensation for spending the holiday tied and gagged, he knew. The sun was getting low as he went inside, throwing long shadows into the room. One fell across Elena, lying on the floor, asleep. Another barely concealed the dark figure kneeling beside her.

Matt charged at him. “Get away from her!” he shouted.

Elena woke with a start. She saw him coming and retreated as far as the rope would allow. The Dark Man turned to Matt reproachfully. “Now look what you did.”

Matt stopped. He examined Elena’s face, the exposed skin of her hands and feet, looking for any sign that she’d been touched by Mr. Dark. No decomposition. At least none that he could see.

He made an effort to calm down for Elena’s sake. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “I thought I saw someone in the shadows.”

Elena was shaking with adrenaline and anger. “Yeah. God forbid I was getting rescued.”

“She’s right,” said Mr. Dark. “We couldn’t have that.”

Matt tried to ignore him. He checked the clear skin of her face again. “Are you OK?”

“Fuck you,” she retorted.

Mr. Dark chuckled. “I like this girl. You can keep her.”

Matt turned away, speaking quietly so Elena couldn’t hear. “Leave her alone.”

“But we have so much in common.” He appeared in front of Matt, counting the similarities on his fingers. “We’re both Gemini. And we’d both get a real kick out of hearing you scream in agony.”

Matt walked past him, dropping his duffel in his corner of the room. Mr. Dark was right there. “You didn’t really think that if you were a nice kidnapper and gave her some leftover pie she’d hate you any less, did you?”

When Matt didn’t answer, the creature clapped his hands in glee. “You did. You thought a few days in your delightful company would soften her right up and she’d abandon her silly quest for revenge.”

“No,” muttered Matt, refusing to admit the speck of truth in this.

Mr. Dark leaned in close, whispering confidentially. “She won’t give up, you know. You will have to kill her eventually.”

“No,” said Matt more loudly.

He turned back to Elena, who’d been watching the one-sided exchange. She shook her head in wonder. “I was wrong about you. I thought you were just some homicidal asshole. But you’re actually insane. Did the voices in your head tell you to murder Pete?”

“Would that make it easier to forgive me?” he wanted to know.

Elena hesitated, then said, “No.”

“Well, there you go,” said the Dark Man with a smile. He held up his hand, making a gun with his fingers. He aimed it at Elena and mimed firing.

“Pow,” he said quietly as he faded from sight.

Matt waited until almost two in the morning to return to the Lennox place. The family should be asleep by now, especially after that huge meal. He hoped.

The house was quiet and dark. He approached cautiously and peered through a small window into the garage. There were two cars inside. At some point Lennox had returned. Matt checked a few more windows. No movement, at least on the first floor.

He circled around to the side door he’d left unlocked earlier. Quietly he tried the knob. It turned. He’d gotten a lucky break, a rare enough event. He hoped his luck would continue as he pushed the door open—that he’d been right about the alarm system and hadn’t just missed the outward signs of one. As the door opened, there was no blaring siren, no warning lights. So far, so good.

Matt went to the office. It was easy to tell which desk belonged to Kathy. It was adorned with photos of the family in happier times. A stack of real estate listings sat neatly in a plastic tray. The other desk was almost completely bare, except for a computer. Matt turned it on. The log-in was password protected, of course. He tried a couple of the obvious ones, like
password
, which a surprising number of people actually used. No luck. He guessed he’d used up his allotment for the day.

He tried to pull open the file drawer and found it locked. Matt examined the construction of the desk. It was made of wood in a modern, sleek design. No rock-solid antique here. He thought that if he slid a tool into the right spot, he’d be able to pry open the drawer. The problem was that the damage would be obvious to Lennox. He’d know that someone had broken into his files. He might think it was Chris or Kathy and punish them accordingly.

Matt considered a different angle. He knew that the underside of a drawer was likely to be its weakest point. The bottom of this file drawer was about a foot and a half above the hardwood floor, so he could get at it. Matt lay on his back under the desk and scooted under the drawer. He pushed on the bottom panel. It bent inward slightly. As he’d hoped, the wood was relatively thin. Carpenters rarely wasted good, solid wood on the bottoms of drawers. This piece was probably resting in the dado slots in the solid sides of the drawer, nailed in place but not glued. He might be able to pry it loose.

He stole quietly through the hall, into the kitchen, and through the door to the garage. Lennox must keep a box of tools somewhere. Even if he never touched them, it was something most homeowners felt the need to have around. Matt found the toolbox on a low shelf. It was heavy and impressive looking, with a decent selection of tools. Some even looked like they’d been used.

Matt brought the box back to the office. Halfway down the hall, he thought he heard a footstep upstairs. He froze. For a few endless moments he stood and listened. There was nothing else. He finally allowed himself to keep moving.