Search and Destroy by JT Sawyer (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📗

43

Cal stepped onto the tiny porch, grabbing the brushed nickel door handle. Feeling the resistance, he pulled out the bump key he had used on Landis’ house but saw that the configuration at the fore-end differed from the key entry on the door. He didn’t have time to try and improvise, acutely aware that there could be a patrol car or private security for the community that monitored the area.

He stepped, back sending a firm stomp kick into the door, but it didn’t buckle. Frustrated, he stepped off the porch and retrieved a palm-sized rock then smashed it into the window to the right. The blow only put a slight chip into it.

Damn, this place is fortified. What the hell’s he got in here?

Cal put more heft into the next strike, causing a spiderweb fracture across the glass, but it still remained intact. Three more forceful blows and the window crystallized then fell back in one crumpled panel.

He knew it was reinforced safety glass designed to hinder smash-and-grab theft and was probably coupled with the perimeter security measures around the property that had since been rendered inactive by the explosion.

Cal reached through, stretching his arm to the left and unlocking the deadbolt on the door.

Once he was inside, he swept his flashlight around, seeing a small desk, a chair and a power outlet on the floor in the corner.

This place musta been cleared out already by the Feds. He slowly swept the flashlight around the floor and walls then made his way across the bamboo-laced ceiling.

Why did you bring me here, buddy?

Cal knelt down, examining the underside of the table and chair, then rapped his fist on the floorboards throughout the tiny space. He leaned back against the wall, wondering if whatever Burke had in here was now in some evidence locker at FBI headquarters.

Cal turned off his flashlight, listening to the gurgle of the stream and the crickets. What am I doing here? What was so important that he would have sent an automated text to me? Maybe it wasn’t him after all.

He craned his head up, staring out the windows on either side, then retraced his steps outside and scrutinized the rooftop. There aren’t even power lines or an electrical hookup running to this place from the house. Cal stepped back inside, shining his light on the power outlet in the floor. He crept closer, kneeling down, recalling the rest of the text message:

Two Red, Two Black

H9R3X5N7

There was only a red and a black button for the GFI outlet. He depressed them twice in the order he recalled from the text message. A mechanical sound issued from below the floorboards, followed by a small section of the floor rising up six inches.

An alphanumeric keypad was the only thing evident. He tapped the surrounding surface with his knuckles, sensing that the cast-iron hatch and whatever was below was integrated into the foundation of the little cabin. This was a contraption that rivaled the small safe in Patterson’s office, and he suspected Burke had it custom made and outfitted by one of his friends in the defense industry.

Cal felt like he was either about to unlock something of great significance or initiate a self-destruct device. He punched in the numbers from memory.

The keypad turned from red to green then the lid rose, lifted by two hydraulic arms on either side of the interior. Cal swept his light down, seeing a brick-sized black container and a folded piece of tan paper.

He picked up the note, opening it.

Cal, if you’re reading this then something has happened to prevent my completion of Perseus, and I am most likely dead. This device contains the source code, and without it, Perseus can never come to fruition.

My colleague Terry Zemenova, in Mumbai, will know what to do.

This is my life’s work, and I am entrusting it to you now. I know you will make sure it is used as it was intended. I’m just sorry I couldn’t join you for the show.

Take care, my friend.

Stephen

Cal felt his heart racing, like he was staring down at a mystical artifact.

Stephen, you son of a bitch. You were always thinking five moves ahead of the rest of us. Were you also the one who arranged for the mainframes to be removed from your building, or was that someone else? And who the hell is Zemenova?

He knew he’d have to wait for the latter answer another time, since he didn’t have access to Langley’s resources any longer. Cal clutched the black box, turning it end over end, seeing only three data ports and a power charging slot. He folded the paper then placed both items into his jacket and turned off his flashlight.

Standing up, he felt a burden upon his shoulders. While he was in awe of Burke’s request and felt a moral obligation to fulfill his friend’s wishes, he now sensed a greater burden than when he had first walked through the door.

He probably just figured I would carry on with Perseus and didn’t know I’d have a fucking bullseye on my head. Cal just wanted to finish his personal crusade for vengeance and then disappear. Now, it seemed like that would be impossible.

At least for a little while longer.

A flash of light to the right caught his eye. He pressed himself against the door frame, peering out towards the driveway, where a half-dozen police officers had just emerged from the shadows.

Shit, did someone from the area spot me pulling up, or is the entry way rigged with pressure plate alarms?

It didn’t matter now. He had to move before the property was completely surrounded.

Skulking down from the porch, he slipped around the back and entered the woods, keeping the black box in his coat pocket pressed against his side as he began descending the hill towards the road below.

44

He’d barely touched down on the pavement when he heard branches to his right cracking and saw an armed officer stumble from the bushes around the