Nova raises his gun at the man.
The electronic voice says, “Regarding what?”
“The safety of Walter Hadden’s children.”
Silence. The pale man keeps the rifle aimed at us while Nova keeps his gun aimed at him.
Finally the voice says, “Are you Jian Lin’s daughter?”
Nova shoots me a quick look.
I say, “Yes, I am.”
“Walter Hadden’s children are in danger?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
Staring directly at the man with the rifle, I say, “We need to speak with Atticus Caine.”
There is another lengthy pause. Then the voice speaks again, sans the electronic tone.
“James, lower the rifle.”
The pale man lowers the rifle.
“Now please escort our two guests to the basement.”
Holding the rifle lowered in one hand, James motions us to follow him with the other.
Nova and I look at each other. I nod at the Beretta, and he lowers it. Then I start forward, toward James, into the kitchen. He moves over to a door, opens it, gestures for me to go first.
I start down the stairs.
At the bottom sits a black man in a wheelchair. He appears to be in his sixties, some gray streaking his full beard.
“So you’re Holly Lin.” His voice is low and deep. “And this gentleman behind you is Nova Bartkowski, correct?”
The entire basement is filled with electronic equipment. In one corner are two dozen monitors, showing different angles of the interior and exterior of the farmhouse. In every other corner are computer screens.
James has reached the bottom of the stairs. Still keeping the rifle lowered, he walks past us and then turns so he’s standing behind the man in the wheelchair.
“We’re here about Roland Delano’s flash drive,” I say.
“Who is Roland Delano?” When neither of us answers, the man shakes his head and says, “I don’t have his flash drive. You should know that already.”
“But you know where it’s located.”
“I don’t, but even if I did, why would I tell you?”
“Because David and Casey Haddens’ lives depend on it.”
Atticus Caine shifts his weight in the wheelchair. He glances up at James, turns his attention back to me. “Young lady, do you know what is on that flash drive?”
“No.”
“Are you aware of what kind of trouble will happen if that flash drive falls into the wrong hands?”
“I have an idea.”
Atticus Caine squints his eyes, studies my face. “You care deeply about these children.”
“They’re innocent.”
Atticus Caine smiles. “You remind me of your father.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s the reason I’m in this mess right now.”
The smile fades on Atticus Caine’s face. He nods, slowly, and says, “Yes, I know.”
Suddenly an alarm sounds. White strobes flash around the basement.
Nova, still holding the Beretta at his side, steps back, looks around wildly. “What is that?”
Atticus Caine takes a remote from his pocket, presses a button, and the alarm and flashing white strobes stop at once.
“That,” he says, “is the police.”
Fifty-Five
He tells us to wait down here. He says that if for some reason the officers want to search the house—which they probably will—we should hide behind the metal door in the corner. Then he wheels himself to a lift against the wall, presses a button, and with a mechanical whine it raises him up into the air. James looks at us once, nods, and hurries up the stairs.
On the monitors we can see every angle of the house, both inside and out. A police car has stopped in the driveway. Two officers get out. They hurry up to the front door. Another monitor shows the gate at the bottom of the drive open; apparently the police have the entrance code.
Atticus Caine appears on one of the screens. He comes out of a door. James meets him and pushes him into the hallway, then down to the front door.
The officers don’t knock or ring the doorbell. They simply walk in.
“What seems to be the problem?” Atticus asks, microphones stationed around the house picking up his voice perfectly.
One of the officers says, “You tell us. We got a call there was a break-in.”
“Yes, yes”—Atticus Caine bows his head in shame—“I’m sorry about that. We were working on the system and it malfunctioned. We couldn’t get it to stop.”
“So everything’s okay?” asks the second officer.
“Yes,” Atticus says. “Everything is fine.”
Both officers look at each other. Then the first one says, “Mind if we check the house, just in case?”
“Of course, be my guest.”
Atticus Caine wheels himself back while the two officers enter deeper into the house, their hands on the butts of their service pistols. Even though these two cops are becoming a pain in my ass, they’re simply doing their job. If there’s a disturbance, they need to check it out regardless. Just because the homeowner says everything is fine, doesn’t mean it’s so.
Nova taps my shoulder, points at the metal door.
I’m afraid the door will make noise when we open it. It doesn’t. It opens smoothly, without a sound.
A motion sensor turns on the overhead lights.
Nova whispers, “Holy shit.”
We’ve stepped into an arsenal. Colt M4s. Heckler & Koch MP5s. A fucking MG5, not to mention dozens of pistols—the weapons either hang off the wall or are displayed on tables.
Outside the door we can hear footsteps coming down the stairs. It sounds like only one set.
Nova is holding the rifle James set on one of the tables. He places it aside, then steps forward, grips onto the door handle.
I hold my breath.
The footsteps move about the basement. They stop in front of the metal door. We can hear the officer grasp onto the lever. We can hear him try to push, try to pull, but the lever doesn’t budge. He stands there another moment, then walks away, starts back up the steps.
We wait what seems like an eternity. Neither of us has moved, and because of this the motion sensor turns the lights off. For a moment I feel alone in the darkness. Something inside of me makes me reach out for Nova, and the lights flash back on.
Just then we can hear the mechanical groan of
