The Senator's Choice (13 page)

Bill sat across from him and snarled as he flashed a half-hearted grin. Luke felt the sweat beading up on his hands as he clenched the metal along the side of his seat. The tattoos covering Bill
’
s neck weren
’
t garden variety. Vipers, guns, Asian symbols. Yet nothing signaled creepy to Luke like the black roses on Bill
’
s forearms.

“Ready for a good night of sleep, kid?” Bill asked.

Luke nodded. Though if he were truthful, he suspected he
’
d only get sleep if he wasn
’
t in the same room as Bill.

As the chopper set down, Luke strained to see some clue as to where he was. In an effort to remain discreet, he scanned the area and caught a glimpse of a lit sign in the distance: Mansfield Regional Airport. He noticed the Ohio flag whipping next to the U.S. flag with a floodlight illuminating both of them.

Luke had no idea what time it was, but at least he knew where he was: Mansfield, Ohio.

Doubling back, huh? These guys are good.

“
Get unbuckled,
” Bill snapped as the helicopter door flung open.

Luke scrambled to free himself from the harness. Then he felt a strong grip on his right bicep. It was Bill.

“Don
’
t get any funny ideas,”
Bill snarled.

Luke climbed out of the helicopter and marched toward a black Suburban parked about fifty yards away near the edge of the tarmac.

“Pick up the pace,” Bill said as he pushed Luke in the back.

Luke stumbled forward before falling to the ground. He looked at his hands, now covered with dirt and small pieces of rocks.

Bill snatched the back of Luke
’
s collar and pulled him to his feet. “Let
’
s keep movin
’, kid. We don’
t have all day.”

Once Luke and the rest of the men made it to the vehicle, they climbed in as the SUV lurched forward and roared away from the helipad toward an open hangar. As they got out, Bill bound Luke
’
s hands and feet and tied him to a chair.

Luke watched as the hangar door closed in an ominous fashion. He peered into the night until the last twinkle of light vanished.

The rest of the gang retreated inside an enclosed office space. Bill stared at him. “Don
’
t even think about trying anything,” he warned Luke before he slammed the door shut.

Luke sat still in the dark for a moment, pondering what to do. If he was going to help his uncle find him, he needed to do something — he needed to know something. So far, he
’
d left behind every clue he could think of to help his uncle find him, but now things were changing. He wasn
’
t sure what, but whatever was going down behind closed doors troubled him.

As stealthily as possible, Luke scooted his chair toward the office. Positioned about thirty feet away, he needed to get much closer if he was going to hear anything said — and he needed to get back to his original spot without arousing Bill
’
s suspicion.

His first attempt resulted in a low scraping noise on the cement floor. Luke froze. The office door swung open and Luke could almost feel Bill
’
s eyes boring into the back of his head. He didn
’
t move. He waited until the light that streaked into the darkened hangar disappeared before continuing his eavesdropping mission.

At a much slower pace, Luke navigated his chair, one leg at a time. Within three minutes, he managed to maneuver himself into position to hear what was being discussed in the office. He leaned his head toward the door and craned his ear to hear.

We don’
t have that much longer until the vote. A couple of days before it all goes down.

And then what? Are we really gonna give the kid back? I think he knows too much already.

Luke
’
s eyes grew big, his heart pounded. He strained to hear more.

So, proceed as planned?

As far as I can tell, there
’
s no reason to deviate. There
’
s been no chatter on any of the channels we
’
ve been monitoring that the senator has decided to defy our directives. He
’
s playing nice.

Then Colorado it is. Time to fuel the chopper. We
’
ve got a long night ahead of us.

Luke froze.
Colorado
’
s not the Northwest.
He
’
d misinterpreted something — or they were changing their plans. Either way, if anyone was following his clues, they
’
d be off now.

The handle on the office door squeaked as it turned.

Luke tried to shuffle back to the spot where Bill left him before the light from the office spilled into the hangar and betrayed him. He couldn
’
t move fast enough.

“Bill, come check this out,”
Sam said.
“Looks like we
’
ve got a nosy one here.”

Luke looked over his shoulder to see Bill storming toward him. Seconds later, everything went dark again after Bill delivered a punishing blow to Luke
’
s face.

CHAPTER 17

SETH MATTHEWS POUNDED HIS PILLOW as he attempted to get comfortable and catch a few hours of sleep on the floor of the farmhouse barn. His mind swirled with fear and concern for his nephew.
Is Luke even still alive?
It was a legitimate concern at this point, though one he presumed could be answered in the affirmative. Killing Luke so soon eroded the only leverage they held. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. They still had time, but the vote was Friday, leaving him with little room for error.

After a few minutes, he tried to turn his mind off and go to sleep.

“I
’
ve got
‘em!”
screeched Shepherd.

Matthews sat up, unsure of how long he
’
d been asleep or where he even was for several minutes until he woke up fully. He glanced at his watch. It
’
d been a meager seven minutes since he last checked, meaning he might have been asleep for a couple of minutes.

“What is it?” Matthews asked. “It had better be good.”

“Oh, you are going to love this,”
Shepherd said.
“I think I know where they are.”

Hammond sat straight up. “Where are they?” He stumbled across the barn toward the glow from Shepherd
’
s computer that illuminated his face.

Shepherd took a deep breath.
“Assuming that the man we met on the road was correct about helicopters landing on this property, I think there
’
s a ninety-eight point six percent chance that they are on a Eurocopter AS350 B2 Astar. According to the activity I found at the nearby Lancaster regional airport, that would likely be the helicopter of choice. It
’
s registered to someone with distant ties to Ophion. And it makes sense because it can carry up to five passengers — six with extensive modifications — and has a range of about four hundred and eleven miles, meaning if they were headed in a Northwest direction, they would likely be at the Mansfield Regional Airport in Ohio.”

“But what do you
know
?” Hammond snapped.

“I hacked into the Mansfield airport cam and was able to see the exact helicopter land a few hours ago. So, I guess I know that this same helicopter that was here is now there.”

Hammond shook his head. “But how do you know it
’
s them?”

“It
’
s registered to a man who has ties to Ophion.”

Matthews stood up and fished his phone out of pocket, quickly dialing a number. “Is it ready?” he asked.

“She
’
s fueled and ready to fly,” came the response.

“Excellent.” He hung up and addressed the rest of the team. “Pack up. We
’
ve got a bird waiting for us. We
’
re going to Mansfield.”

CHAPTER 18

SENATOR DANIELS PEERED THROUGH the slats in the blinds onto the street outside of his house. He couldn
’
t sleep, not with Luke gone. And he had no idea if he
’
d be able to sleep until after the vote on Friday. He couldn
’
t stop worrying about his son.

The street was empty.

He collapsed into a plush leather chair in the sitting room adjacent to the entryway. His dachshund, Gipper, hopped up in his lap. Daniels stroked the dog
’
s slick coat and rubbed its head. Gipper whimpered and rested his head on Daniels
’
lap.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon Daniels. He
’
d experienced enough loss in his life. He
’
d gladly trade his own life for Luke
’
s. Anyone but Luke.

He got up and poured himself a neat shot of Scotch. Before sitting down, he glanced out the window again. Nothing. He threw the shot back before staggering to his chair and collapsing into it again. He scratched behind Gipper
’
s ears with his free hand.

Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

He wasn
’
t exactly sure who he was addressing with his question, though he felt it might be an appropriate one for God — if he even existed. At the moment, it felt like he was all alone. And he was.

With Luke gone, the house creaked and groaned like it always did while settling at night. But tonight felt different to the senator. Perhaps it was the fact that Luke was indeed out there — somewhere. He certainly wasn
’
t lurking upstairs. Regardless, it made an already eerie soundtrack become more ominous. Senator Daniels wanted his son back — and he wanted him back now.

He walked into the downstairs bathroom and turned on the water. He then dialed Matthews
’
number on his burner phone.

“Please tell me something encouraging,” Daniels said.

“We know where Luke is,” Matthews answered.

“That
’
s great. Are you going to be able to rescue him?”

“It
’
s not that easy.”

“What do you mean?”

Matthews sighed.
“He
’
s a few hours away and we don
’
t know where he
’
s headed next.”

“
You can
’
t track him?”

“Just leave the details to us. We
’
ll handle it.”

“I can
’
t lose Luke.
”

“I know. Me either. We
’
re going to bring him home safely. Don
’
t you worry. Get some sleep, okay?”

“I will. Just promise me you
’
ll bring him home.”

“I promise. Now get some rest.”

Daniels hung up and dropped his phone and collapsed next to it on the cold tile floor. “I can
’
t lose you, Luke. I can
’
t lose you.” His tears spilled onto the floor.

After a few moments he stood up to turn off the water.

The house fell silent — and empty.

He shuffled into the hallway and started to walk upstairs to get in his bed before a loud noise startled him.

Bullets sprayed the front of his house, shattering glass and startling Gipper. The dog howled as he cowered behind the couch.

Daniels dove to the floor and waited for the glass to stop raining.

After several seconds, it stopped. Then nothing — before the screeching of tires pierced the silence.

Daniels raced to the window to catch the red taillights disappearing down the street.

Several porch lights from neighbors blinked on as bushy-haired men clad in robes and boxers stumbled down their walkways to survey the action.

Daniels glanced at the lamppost several feet down the walkway leading to his front door. It was off. He wanted to keep it that way.

Without a second glance he retreated upstairs and called Matthews.

“Hurry. They just sprayed my house with bullets. I
’
m not sure how much longer I can withstand this.”

Matthews took a deep breath. “
Relax
— we
’
re going to find him.”