B007GFGTIY EBOK (25 page)

“Did he see us?” Rebecca asked.

Lockhart pursed his lips. “No. He says he can’t make the meeting, so he’s left something for us.”

“Where?” Hayden asked.

“You two aren’t going to butt out, are you?” Lockhart said.

“Too much has happened,” Hayden said.

“It’s on the BART platform.”

They rode the escalators down to the central platform, which was occupied by a smattering of passengers. It was well lit, so anything left for Lockhart had to be in plain sight.

Lockhart led the way to the end of the platform which dead-ended at a wall punctuated by a tunnel on either side. Either out of safety or convenience, no one else ventured to the end of the platform. Their breaking this unsaid taboo drew occasional glances, but Lockhart’s professional appearance diffused people’s concerns.

Hayden felt the heat of the CCTV cameras in the ceiling. Someone had to be watching. Security couldn’t be as lackadaisical as the criminal would hope. Whatever had been left had to be found fast and without fuss if they weren’t to alert anyone.

“Who is this person you were supposed to be meeting?” Hayden asked

“I don’t know. Just someone who is too frightened to go to the police. He’s hoping my involvement will help.”

This brought a chill to Hayden. It was all too reminiscent of Mason’s trick to lure him. He didn’t like the way this felt. He checked behind him for anyone watching them with too much interest.

They reached the end of the platform. There were no trash cans or anything to hide an object. Whatever had been left was either small or the person who’d called Lockhart had lied.

“What are we looking for?” Hayden asked.

“It’s down there,” Lockhart said, pointing at the eastbound tunnel. “On a ledge.”

The package might be on a ledge, but it was still dangerous to go anywhere near the tunnel. Hayden eyed the computer display board. The next train wasn’t for seven minutes. Plenty of time to retrieve the package before it came.

“I’ll get it,” Hayden said to Lockhart. “It’ll look weird if you do it.”

Lockhart and Rebecca provided cover. They stood in front of him and pretended to talk while he dropped to his knees. He gripped the platform wall and reached deep into the tunnel. Mercifully dark and silent, it stank of grease and trapped air. His hand found the ledge and his fingers slid through the dirt and grime caked to the surface. Just as he came to the end of his reach, his hand slipped through the padded loop belonging to a backpack.

“Got it.”

He yanked on the backpack. It was far heavier than he expected and slipped off the ledge. Its weight jerked at him, pulling him toward the electrified tracks. He caught himself and swung the pack onto the platform. It connected with the tile floor with a metallic clang. He exchanged a confused look with Lockhart. Lockhart hadn’t been expecting this gift.

Hayden unzipped the backpack and his breath caught when he opened it. Hayden knew the item inside even though he’d only seen it on paper and on his computer screen. He peeled the pack away to reveal a pressure vessel the size of a fire extinguisher. Just like a fire extinguisher, a liquid slopped about inside. Instead of a hose, a circular manifold with six ports in a rosette formation protruded from the top with an electrical box fixed atop. A single, red LED blinked at him.

“Oh God,” Lockhart murmured.

“What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked.

“Leave it,” Lockhart barked. “Get out.”

Just as Hayden put the vessel on the ground, he felt movement from inside. The LED switched from red to green. The actuator snapped into place and released the vessel’s contents. A colorless and near-odorless gas rushed from the rosette ports. Cold and damp, the gas hit the back of his hand.

Lockhart told Hayden again to leave the vessel and get out, but he couldn’t. He no longer had the strength to stand. He pushed himself up and fell flat on his face.

Rebecca yelled out. Hayden turned his head, but it took all his muscle control to flop his head in her direction.

Lockhart pulled her away, but she tore herself free and staggered toward him.

He motioned to her to stay, although his control over his arm was pitiful.

But it was too late. Rebecca’s legs went out from under her and she crashed down hard on her butt.

Passengers rushed forward, but stopped short when Lockhart collapsed seconds after Rebecca. When they started dropping, Hayden knew he was the only person who could save himself.

He called Rebecca’s name, but she didn’t answer. He tried dragging himself across the platform to her, but he had no control over his body. Then he lost control of his eyes. Every time he tried to focus on something, his eyes rolled back. It scared him how little control he had over his body. It was shutting down, betraying him one muscle at a time. It was a mercy that none of it hurt.

A heavy weight pressed upon him. The weight was the inexorable desire to sleep. It took too much effort to lie there on the tile. It was easier to succumb to his longing. He let go and it felt good, as if he were descending into warm waters soaking through his body and into his being. He gradually sank to the bottom. The deeper he went, the darker it became. He was no longer aware of the panic around him, Lockhart or Rebecca, or his impending death. He was aware of nothing.

H
ayden regained consciousness and this time it stuck. He’d woken up twice before, but only briefly. His eyes had fluttered open long enough to take in his surroundings before he’d passed out again. The first time was on the street outside the Powell Street BART station. The second was in a hospital. Now he was in a windowless holding cell. He tried not to let this fact disturb him.

He didn’t know what time it was. His watch had been taken. The absence of windows didn’t help. Diffused fluorescent lighting made it permanent twilight. Whitewashed walls hemmed him in from three sides and a Plexiglas wall turned him into a sideshow attraction. He pushed himself into a sitting position and instantly became light-headed. Whatever had been in that canister still had a kick to it.

He had the cell to himself. If he was being held here, where were Rebecca and Lockhart? In neighboring cells? The significance of the holding cell sank in. He was being viewed as a suspect and not a victim. He didn’t dare think about the charges.

He now understood why Shane and fourteen other people had lost their lives. They’d all helped design a weapon—including him. They were unwitting dupes but guilty all the same. No wonder Shane had killed himself. This was his terrible thing. He should have listened to Shane and kept out. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it was going to put Hayden away for life.

He was strangely calm considering his situation. He put it down either to the drug’s lingering effects or the fact that he couldn’t even fathom how big a hole he was in right now.

He was wondering how he could alert someone when he spotted the camera trained on him from the corner of his cell. He expected someone to come for him now that he was awake, but no one did for an hour. His welcoming committee was a pair of uniformed men.

One man cuffed him while the other watched. They walked out of the holding area and his stomach tightened when he didn’t see Rebecca or Lockhart in any of the other cells. They marched him through a number of corridors and an office area. Daylight poured through large windows. He was high up but didn’t recognize the view outside.

“Where am I?”

“The FBI Field Office in San Francisco.”

He thought he was in Santiago’s custody. He could work with Santiago. Santiago would understand. The FBI wouldn’t. His calm demeanor evaporated.

The officers directed him into another corridor that led to a bank of interview rooms, but interview rooms were only interview rooms when you were a witness. They became interrogation rooms when you were the suspect, irrespective of what it said on the door.

The officer who’d cuffed him knocked on an interview room door. A sharp-looking man in a suit answered. He stood back for Hayden and his escorts as they filed inside.

Rebecca was sitting at a table across from a man dressed in a suit. She was pale and looked tired and scared. He smiled at her to lift her spirits. She smiled back and a sparkle returned to her eyes.

Lockhart was nowhere to be seen. Hayden wondered if he was receiving special treatment elsewhere.

The uniforms uncuffed Hayden and left. He sat alongside Rebecca as directed.

“I’m Special Agent John Bohnert,” the man at the door said. “And this is Special Agent Keith Schrader.”

Hayden didn’t have to ask if he was being considered as a terrorist.

“You want to tell us what happened in the BART station yesterday, Mr. Duke?” Bohnert asked.

Yesterday
? He’d been out for a day.

He walked the agents through their encounter with Lockhart after following the Angels fan from Santiago’s office. The agents listened but took no notes, even though they had legal pads in front of them. There wasn’t any need to write anything down. He guessed everything was being recorded. Not that recording equipment and notepads mattered. The two agents made no effort to hide their disbelief.

“This guy in the Angels cap. Know him?” Bohnert asked.

“No,” Hayden answered.

“I’m guessing you didn’t get a license plate number either.”

Hayden groaned inside. He hadn’t. He’d been too wrapped up in the chase. “No.”

Schrader leaned back in his seat and let out an overdramatic sigh. “Another case of some other guy did it. Why can’t you people be more original?”

“We’re telling you the truth,” Rebecca said.

“Of course you are,” Schrader said.

Rebecca went to say more, but Hayden put a hand on her forearm to stop her. These guys wouldn’t listen to reason. They’d only listen to evidence.

“We’ve done some checking up on you, Hayden,” Bohnert said. “You worked for Marin Design Engineering. They’re a very interesting firm considering they’re all dead. Even more interesting is that James Lockhart was their last client.”

Now Hayden knew why Lockhart was nowhere in sight. The FBI saw him as the victim and them as the aggressors. He tried to see it their way. They couldn’t know the circumstances. This was a case of mistaken identity.

“Talk to Lockhart,” Hayden said. “He’ll explain everything.”

Bohnert ignored him. “We have witnesses stating you and Rebecca accosted Mr. Lockhart outside South Bay Industries. More witnesses saw you retrieve the device from the tunnel moments before it went off in the station. No one saw a guy in an Angels cap.”

“This is insane,” Rebecca said. “You’ve got it wrong.”

“Does this have something to do with Shane Fallon’s death or MDE firing you?” Schrader asked Hayden.

“No,” Hayden said. Who was giving them their information? Lockhart? Santiago? Both? He’d been out of the game for a day. They could have gotten to a lot of people in that time.

This case against them kept building and building. It frightened Hayden how quickly Bohnert and Schrader had amassed their information. He guessed it wasn’t difficult. His name had made it into the newspapers after the fire, and Santiago had his statements. OK, he’d had his hands on the device when it went off, but why did Bohnert and Schrader see him and Rebecca behind all this? He couldn’t believe they hadn’t spoken to Lockhart. One word from him would point suspicion in the right direction. So why were they still suspects?

“Is Lockhart OK?”

“Why do you care?” Schrader asked. “Did you wheedle your way into MDE to get to him?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What are your affiliations?” Bohnert asked.

“Affiliations?” Hayden said. “Look, we’re victims, not terrorists.”

“Do we look like terrorists?” Rebecca pleaded.

“You’d be surprised what a terrorist looks like,” Schrader said.

“You used a pretty powerful sedative yesterday,” Bohnert said. “Your stunt not only took out you and Mr. Lockhart, but nine other passengers. It would have been more if the sedative hadn’t lost its potency. Where did you get it from? If you want to get out of here, give us some names.”

“Are you listening to us?” Rebecca demanded. “We don’t know anyone, because we had nothing to do with this.”

“Who manufactured the device for you?” Schrader asked.

“You’re not interested in hearing a damn thing we’ve got to say,” Hayden said.

“Your father is a skilled machinist, Mr. Duke,” Schrader said. “Did he manufacture it for you?”

Hayden stabbed a finger at Schrader. “Hey, you leave my dad out of this.”

“How many more of these devices exist?” Bohnert asked.

Hayden was wasting his time. Bohnert and Schrader had made up their minds. They had their culprits. They had no reason to look any further when they had viable candidates and a nervous public to quell.

“I know you’re not going to believe me, but I’m going to say this one more time: we didn’t have anything to do with yesterday’s attack,” Hayden said. “What can I do to convince you?”

“Tell me something that doesn’t sound like bullshit,” Bohnert said.

“Look into Marin Design Engineering. People started dying long before I started working for them.”

“My brother said he’d done something unforgivable before he killed himself,” Rebecca said.

“He wasn’t the only one to say that,” Hayden added.

Neither Bohnert nor Schrader showed any signs of believing them. Hayden didn’t give them a chance to launch back into their interrogation. Instead, he detailed recent events including Shane’s death, the fire, Malcolm Fuller’s beliefs before his death, and Tony Mason’s attack.

“Y’know,” Bohnert said. “It sounds all very convincing, but there isn’t one person who can corroborate any of this. Your witnesses are either dead or somewhere in the ether. It doesn’t help.”

Bohnert sounded sincere and Hayden couldn’t fault his logic. He was right. There was no substance to anything he said. No one other than Rebecca could back him up and not even she could back him up on everything. The only thing he had was the busted needleless syringe and even that didn’t help. Bohnert and Schrader could make a case that it belonged to him. He had never been more scared. Not even when Mason had tried to press the syringe to his neck. With a head-on attack, he could fight for his life. But against the likes of Bohnert and Schrader, he was helpless. He hadn’t wanted to play the lawyer card. It smacked of guilt. But he needed protection from a different kind of enemy than the likes of Mason.

“I would like a lawyer.”

“You haven’t been charged,” Bohnert said.

“Then we’re leaving.”

Hayden stood, taking Rebecca’s hand. Schrader moved quickly to block their path. Rebecca tightened her grip on Hayden’s hand.

“Leaving would be a big mistake,” Schrader advised. “You leave and you’ll kick-start a law-enforcement machine that can’t be stopped.”

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. If Bohnert and Schrader played their Patriot Act card, he and Rebecca were going to be buried by the power of the law. He backed away from Schrader and retook his seat.

“Smart thinking,” Bohnert said.

Schrader remained standing. He retreated to the room’s only door and leaned against it.

Rebecca sat alongside Hayden and slipped an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll be OK.”

He nodded, although he wasn’t sure she was right.

“We’ve searched your homes,” Bohnert said.

“I hope you had a warrant.”

“Probable cause makes life very easy,” Schrader answered.

“We didn’t find any more devices or the sedative,” Bohnert said. “Tell us where we can find them and we’ll cut you some slack.”

“You keep blaming us for this attack, but you’re missing one vital point,” Hayden said.

“Which is?” Bohnert asked.

“The device was remotely triggered. It went off after I retrieved it. You didn’t find a transmitter on us.” Hayden didn’t wait for a response. “And we didn’t have a chance to dispose of it. The sedative took us out.”

“Does that make any sense to you?” Rebecca demanded.

Hayden and Rebecca didn’t get an answer, but Hayden didn’t expect one. He’d punched a hole in their case.

Someone knocked at the door and Schrader opened it. Santiago stood outside with an FBI escort alongside him. Hayden had never been so happy to see the detective.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m Detective Ruben Santiago, Marin County Sheriff’s Department. I was wondering if I can join the circus. These two have some questions to answer for me, too.”

Bohnert and Schrader glanced at each other and shared an unspoken thought. “All right, detective,” Bohnert said. “I think we’ve come to a break for now. Maybe you’ll be able to get them to say something that makes sense.”

Santiago held the door open for the departing agents and closed it behind them. There was an air of privacy that Hayden knew didn’t exist. Camera surveillance was on them. With the seriousness of the allegations, there’d be a team of agents glued to everything they said.

“The police grapevine must be working well today,” Hayden said.

Santiago seated himself opposite them. “It is, but I find CNN works even better.”

Hayden sagged. This mess was getting worse by the minute.

“What the hell are you two up to?” Santiago said. “I can’t leave the pair of you alone for ten minutes.”

“You’ve got to get us out of here,” Hayden said.

“Why should I? You’ve been screwing with me for weeks with your own little private investigations. You think you’re Nancy Drew and one half of the Hardy Boys. Well, I’ll give you a shock. You’re not. You two are one step from ending up as the next Timothy McVeigh.”

“We’re sorry,” Rebecca said.

“Sorry isn’t going to rebuild the bridges you’ve burned.”

“Tell them we didn’t have anything to do with this,” Hayden said.

“How do I know you didn’t?”

“Christ, Santiago, you know we didn’t.”

“Convince me. Tell me what happened after you left my office.”

Hayden and Rebecca gave Santiago the same account they’d given the Feds.

Santiago slammed his fist on the table. “You’re idiots. Do you know that? The moment you spotted this guy in my parking lot, you should have called me. If I had stopped him, then we might have prevented yesterday’s cluster fuck. I thought we had an understanding. You tell me when something happens and I do something about it.”

“We did. You didn’t pick up,” Rebecca said. “Besides, if you’d picked up this guy, we wouldn’t have known he was after Lockhart, too.”

“When are you going to get this through your thick skull? None of this is your decision. It’s mine. It’s the FBI’s. Not yours.”

“OK,” Hayden said. “We’re idiots. We dug this hole for ourselves. Can you get us out?”

Santiago rose and paced the claustrophobic interview room. “I don’t know. I know you didn’t have anything to do with this. You aren’t smart enough.”

The insult was also a compliment. It would be heard by Bohnert and Schrader and their colleagues.

“Let me see what I can do,” Santiago said.