Run into Trouble Read online

  Slick approved the plan. Since no other guard had shown up, they headed up the hill in the cleared area. Melody wished she were wearing her running shoes. She was in danger of losing the ones she had on because of the rough ground, but she didn’t say anything to Slick. Once they were past the line of sight from the windows, they followed a sidewalk close to the building. Walking on the concrete was easier. As they came around the corner of the building, they saw the door they were looking for. The window near it was dark.

  Slick tried the handle. It was locked with a simple lock. He had a couple of thin metal strips attached to his key ring. He opened the door in less than a minute. They went inside and found a light switch by feel. A number of ceiling lights came on. The room was large, with all kinds of equipment in it, including blankets, bed linen, pots and pans, and other kitchen utensils. It had a stove and sink. There was also electronic gear of some sort. The room was furnished with a long table with chairs around it. Half a dozen cots were lined up along the far wall, made up for sleeping with military precision. Schematic drawings of what looked like a submarine covered another wall.

  Melody was attracted to several manuals she saw sitting on a bookshelf. They looked familiar. She walked over to one and glanced at the cover. She gasped and opened it up.

  “Slick. Look at this.”

  Slick ambled over and came as close to showing emotion as Melody had seen from him. “If I’m not mistaken that’s Russian.”

  “This is identical to a manual Drake and I saw on the sub.”

  “Proof that Big G is dealing with the Russkies.”

  “Worse. It’s proof that Big G made the attack on Malibu. This was a training room for the crew. They slept here; they studied here.”

  “Ah, the light dawns. Casey faked the attack to aid his quest for power.”

  “I remember now. A helicopter flew along the beach just before the attack. It must have been communicating with the sub, telling it when to fire to catch the tail-end of the runners. Killing one was acceptable to Casey, because it helped rouse the public to demand security.”

  “I wonder if those generals and admirals downstairs know about this.”

  “I doubt it. They’re trained to defend their country, not attack it.”

  The only inside door leading from the room was to a bathroom. The training center was isolated from the rest of the building. Melody and Slick went back outside and continued around the building in a counterclockwise direction, looking for another way in.

  CHAPTER 37

  Drake walked slowly toward the doorway, trying to stall as long as possible. Where were Melody and Slick? He had lost track of the time. He had allowed this two-bit guard to get the best of him. Now he would die for the cause of freedom.

  Millions of Americans had died for freedom already, but his was a useless death because Casey had won. He felt the pressure of Artie’s gun in his back. Drake faked a limp to gain time and wondered how he could disarm Artie while handcuffed without getting himself killed.

  He stepped outside into the cool night. At least the floodlights on the building allowed him to see. He took a step to the left toward the front of the lodge where Melody and Slick would be most likely to spot him. Artie grabbed his arm and roughly swung him in the opposite direction toward the lowest corner of the building.

  Still moving slowly, Drake reached the back corner. Beyond and downhill from them were trees. They were headed away from the road and away from civilization and any chance for help. Drake glanced over his right shoulder, ostensibly to glance at his captor, and swept his eyes uphill along the back of the lodge, looking for a sign of Melody and Slick.

  In that split second, he thought he saw a movement. He wasn’t sure, and didn’t dare look again, because he was afraid of directing Artie’s attention behind the building. Even if it were a person, it might be that other guard on patrol.

  Artie suddenly pulled him away from the corner, so that they were no longer visible from the back of the building, and directed him downhill in a slightly different direction. Even if what he had seen was some combination of Melody and Slick, if they hadn’t seen him at that exact same moment, they wouldn’t know he was here.

  Drake whistled the same four warning notes that Melody had used to warn him about Sterling’s gun in the motel room: C, F, G, A. Then in rapid succession he added the next four in the sequence: F, B flat, A, G. They had made up lyrics for the notes: “He’s got a gun; this isn’t fun.”

  Artie hit him on the side of the head with said gun, almost knocking him over, and growled, “Shut up.”

  Drake stumbled and wished his hands were free to help him regain his balance on the downhill slope.

  ***

  “There’s somebody down there.” Slick spoke softly. Melody followed his gaze toward the downhill corner of the building; she didn’t see anything. They had just been trying to look in a window, but it was dark inside. They were contemplating breaking the glass to gain entrance.

  “It could be another guard. Stay behind me.”

  Slick moved silently downhill, keeping his gun in front of him and his body hugged against the wall of the building.

  Melody heard the eight notes clearly in the still night. They sliced through her body like a scimitar. “That’s Drake. He’s in trouble.”

  She ran past Slick down to the corner of the building and looked around it. She saw two figures by the glow of the spotlights, heading downhill toward the trees. The one in front was stumbling, and it appeared that his hands were tied behind his back. Drake.

  Slick came up behind her and looked over her shoulder.

  Melody whispered, “A guard is taking Drake toward the woods. I bet he’s going to shoot him.”

  Slick sucked in his breath. “We can’t storm them, or Drake gets it. I’ll go left. You go right. We’ll approach from either side.”

  “Hurry.”

  Slick had to go uphill a bit to approach them from the left side. Melody’s route was downhill; she went as fast as she could while making a minimum of noise and keeping a low profile. Fortunately, Drake and his guard were walking noisily. Drake was undoubtedly doing it on purpose.

  She sped up as the two reached the trees, knowing that it would be more difficult for the guard to spot her now. How far was he going to take Drake before shooting him? Only far enough that the noise of the gun wouldn’t alert the men in the meeting. It was dark in the woods, but the guard had turned on a flashlight. Melody worked her way toward its beam, being careful not to trip over a root, knowing that she and Slick had to act fast.

  ***

  Drake knew that the end was near. He had to take some action, not go out like a pantywaist. He was just about to try to knock Artie over when he heard the first two notes of the code he and Melody used. They came from close by on the right. He immediately dropped to the ground.

  Artie swung his flashlight in the direction of the notes. Two gunshots came from the opposite direction. Artie swung the flashlight in a 180 and pointed it toward where the shots had come from. He fired in that direction as more shots came from there and behind him.

  Artie grunted and dropped the flashlight, but he was still standing. Now Melody and Slick wouldn’t be able to tell where he was. Drake could see by the peripheral light of the flashlight, now lying on the ground, that Artie was aiming the gun at him. He was going to make sure of his original objective.

  The beam of another flashlight zigzagged rapidly toward them from the left, along with the sound of somebody crashing through the brush. It must be Slick. Artie whirled and fired toward the beam. There was a thud, and the flashlight disappeared. Another shot came from almost right beside them. Artie staggered as several more shots followed it.

  Artie was still on his feet. Melody was having a problem aiming in the dark. Artie turned and was about to fire at Melody who couldn’t be more than five feet away. Drake braced his arms on the ground beneath him and lunged upward with his feet toward where Artie’s gun must be. He manag
ed to kick the gun, deflecting its aim as Artie fired.

  Melody was now right beside them. She put her gun to Artie’s head and fired one more time. He dropped to the ground. She kept the gun aimed at him, but he didn’t move. She carefully picked up the flashlight and shone it on his face. She spoke in a shaky voice. “I think I got him. He wouldn’t go down.”

  She pulled Artie’s gun out of his hand.

  Drake said, “Good job. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, and you?”

  “Fine but handcuffed. I think he hit Slick.”

  Melody took the flashlight and went to find Slick. Drake struggled to his feet and followed her. Slick was lying on his stomach at the base of a tree with his head to one side. Melody knelt beside him and called his name. She put her fingers to his neck.

  “He’s still alive.”

  Drake said, “We have to get help. And tell the brass about this.”

  Melody shone the light on Slick’s face. She noticed for the first time that he had beautiful blue eyes.

  “I’ll stay with him. Maybe I can help him.”

  Slick spoke so that they could barely hear him. “Go with Drake. Tell them about the training center.”

  “You need help.”

  “Go. Stop the craziness. Don’t worry about me.”

  Slick lapsed into silence. Melody tore her eyes away from his face and stood up. She shone the light on Drake and saw his handcuffs.

  “We need to find the key and set you free.”

  “Later. We’ve got to work fast. Let’s get to the meeting.”

  She directed the flashlight ahead of them, and they carefully walked out of the woods. A trio of uniformed men, lit by the floodlights, came toward them from around the corner at the front of the lodge, waving handguns.

  Drake said, “Drop your gun.”

  Melody was still carrying it, unconsciously. She let it fall to the ground.

  The men spread out and covered the two. It was obvious that they were itching to shoot somebody. Melody raised her hands. Drake realized that they must be aides for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. He turned so that they could see his handcuffs and spoke to the officer with bars on his shoulder.

  “Casey’s man just shot a government agent.”

  Melody pointed at Drake. “He’s the son of Admiral Drake. The guard was going to shoot him.”

  The three looked confused. That could be dangerous. They needed to be won over. Drake tried again. “Casey’s trying to overthrow the government with the help of the military. Giganticorp built the submarine.”

  That wasn’t news. Melody interrupted. “Casey planned and carried out the Malibu attack. The USSR had nothing to do with it.”

  The three looked more confused. Melody continued. “The top floor of this building was used as a training center for the sailors of the submarine. They’re probably all Americans, but we saw training manuals written in Russian to deceive us.”

  The soldier who was wearing captain’s bars spoke. “Are you saying that Casey—Mr. Messinger—engineered this whole thing, and that there’s no threat from the USSR?”

  “That’s correct.” Drake was relieved that he had caught on. “We need to talk to your boss.”

  “Where’s the agent?”

  “In the woods. He’s hurt bad. That direction. The guard is there, too. I think he’s dead.”

  The captain turned to the other two soldiers. “Call for help. There’s a phone in the rec room. Find the casualties and do what you can for them. I’m going to take these two to talk to the Chairman.”

  Melody gave her flashlight to one of the soldiers. She and Drake went up the hill, followed by the captain, and around to the front of the building. They went in the main doorway; they could hear voices coming from the next room—or rather, Casey’s voice.

  “…need for us to fill the void left by the government and provide national security, the first job of any government. If the president won’t step up to the plate…”

  CHAPTER 38

  Casey stopped talking as they entered the room. A dozen heads swiveled to stare at them. The bodies beneath the heads were clad in civilian clothes. The captain spoke to one of them.

  “Two men have been shot in the woods, sir. One is a Giganticorp security guard. The other is a government agent. Ferguson and Baker are calling for help and assisting them. The situation is under control.”

  The man the captain had addressed looked at Drake and Melody.

  “Who are these two?”

  “We’ve got intelligence about the Malibu operation, sir. This is Mr. Drake. He’s the son of Admiral Drake.”

  All eyes were on Drake and on his handcuffs. He must look a proper mess with the gash in his forehead and a lump on the side of his head.

  The men were sitting around a long, rectangular table. Casey was at the far end. He glowered at Drake but didn’t say anything. Drake spotted his father whose expression registered disbelief. Drake directed his remarks to the man the captain had addressed. He must be the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

  “Melody and I have been working with undercover agents to get more information about the Malibu incident. One of these agents was just shot by Casey’s guard. Casey told me this was going to be a bloodless coup.”

  Drake paused to let that sink in. “You’re trying to protect the freedom of the U.S.A., which is admirable, but you’re doing it in such a way that we, the citizens, will lose our freedoms. You’ve been led to believe that we’ve been attacked by an enemy power. The president wanted proof, but some decided that he wasn’t doing his job. I’m here to tell you that the president is right.”

  Drake hoped that Melody knew what she was talking about. She almost always did. He parroted her words about the training operation in the building. Casey tried to interrupt him. The Chairman told Casey to shut up.

  When Drake paused, the Chairman spoke. “Of course we’re going to investigate the room you’re talking about. This is a very serious charge. If true, it completely changes things—”

  “If I may, sir…”

  All eyes turned to Admiral Drake, including the Chairman’s. “My son and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. But I’m proud to say that there are at least two things we agree on. We both love our country, and we both tell the truth. If Oliver says that Casey is behind the Malibu incident, I believe him. I’ve had a sour taste in my mouth ever since I arrived at this meeting. I haven’t been able to reconcile my respect for our founding fathers and the Constitution with what we were doing. I’m glad my son arrived to shock me back to reality. I will no longer have anything to do with what has been referred to as Casey’s plan.”

  There were murmurs of what might be agreement from around the table. Casey was desperately searching the faces of the other men for support. Those faces were turned away from him. Drake decided to seize the opportunity. He addressed the Chairman. “Sir, I need to make a phone call. I have to call the boss of the agent who was shot.”

  “In Washington?”

  “Yes sir, in Washington.”

  “Of course, the news will be relayed immediately to the president. Not yet, Mr. Drake. Before we do anything else, we’re going to have a look at this so-called training room.”

  “General, I’d be happy to give you a tour of the room in question.”

  All eyes turned toward Casey. He had composed himself and projected his usual aura of confidence.

  “Admiral Drake gave a very pretty speech about his son, and I’m sure what he said about Drake’s veracity is correct. I, myself, have gained the utmost respect for him during the race. However, his information about the training room is incorrect. You see, Drake, himself, has never seen the room. He is relying on what somebody else told him—what is known in law as hearsay.”

  Casey paused. The silence was palpable as the assembled officers waited to hear what he would say next. Melody knew it would be difficult for her to get the attention of this roomful of testosterone-charged males. Seeing the training room f
or themselves would provide all the evidence they needed, especially the Russian manuals. Casey couldn’t prevent that. What was his game?

  Casey continued speaking. “Drake is correct in saying that this is a training facility. It is used for training the men who are testing the submarines Giganticorp is developing. I admit that we built the boat that was used in the Malibu attack. We lent it to one of our allies for testing. How it fell into the hands of the Soviets, I don’t know. I was remiss in not reporting this sooner. I take full responsibility for this omission, and we will cooperate fully in any investigation.”

  Casey was trying to get himself off the hook by confessing to a lesser crime. As the officers rose from the table to walk up to the training room, Drake asked the captain, who was keeping an eye on him, if he could get his handcuffs taken off. The young officer shook his head. It would be a messy process since they didn’t have the key. This was not the time.

  Drake had to acquiesce to this, but he was determined to go to the training room. Casey was too slippery. He had fooled the officers so far. Drake eyed Casey as the latter rose from his seat at the head of the table with a half-smile on his face. Drake didn’t like what he saw.

  Drake and the captain trailed the others heading outside, except for Melody who was a step behind them. As soon as they were in the open air, Drake whistled all four lines of the tune he and Melody used as a signal, softly, so that only Melody and the captain could hear him: C, F, G, A; F, B flat, A G; C, E, F, G; E, A, G, F.”

  “What song is that?” the captain asked.

  “Just a schmaltzy tune we sang when we were kids. ‘The wind is free and so are we; we’ll stake our lives on liberty.’”

  ***

  Melody had no doubt about Drake’s meaning. Casey had a gun. Apparently in his pants pocket since he was wearing a short-sleeved sport shirt. It must be small—Grace had been killed by a small-caliber bullet. Small, but at close range, deadly. Drake didn’t trust the captain enough to tell him. Perhaps he was afraid the captain wouldn’t believe him. They weren’t convinced that Casey and not Drake was the enemy—yet.