Target Omega

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

They had been driving for several minutes on an isolated two-lane road in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park approximately thirty miles south of Cleveland when Garin turned left onto a dirt path barely wide enough for the Crown Victoria to pass. As he drove along the rough ground, brush and tree branches scraped along the sides of the car. The middle of the path was overgrown with tall weeds and was crisscrossed with low-hanging vines from adjacent trees.

After they’d driven for nearly half a mile, the path ended. They drove up a slight grade for another two hundred yards until the density of the trees prevented them from proceeding farther. About seventy-five feet ahead, barely visible through the foliage, was a small cabin in a miserable state of disrepair. The steps leading to the porch were rotting away, the porch railing was askew, and the two front windows were broken. Nailed to a tree twenty-five feet from the front door was a superfluous NO TRESPASSING sign that Joe surmised had been posted sometime during the Hoover administration. Next to the tree was something that at one time may or may not have been a well.

Joe turned to Garin with a look that said, “You’re kidding me.”

Kimmy asked the obvious question. “Mommy, why are we stopping here?”

“I’m not sure but I’m hoping Uncle Mike is about to tell us there’s a Holiday Inn behind this house.”

Garin turned off the lights and engine. They were instantly enveloped in total blackness.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” Garin declared as he opened the car door. “Follow me. Be careful, and watch your step. There’s a lot of exposed roots.”

The other doors opened and the Burns family emerged from the vehicle with trepidation. The kids’ expectation of an exciting Uncle Mike adventure had been replaced by doubts about his sanity.

Garin produced a flashlight from the trunk and led Katy’s family to the cabin’s front door. Katy couldn’t imagine any reason why the door would be locked and, indeed, her brother simply pushed it open and entered, floorboards sinking beneath his feet.

The family gathered inside the entrance as Garin swept the flashlight around the room as if to assure them that there were no skeletons strewn about the floor. The space in which they stood was about twenty feet by twenty feet and dominated by a large wooden table in the center. A few chairs were scattered about and there was a freestanding metal washtub against the wall to the right. An old-fashioned woodstove stood against the wall to the left. The short hallway on the opposite side of the room led to two smaller rooms, one of which appeared to have been a bathroom at one time.

“Mike,” Joe said, “I didn’t see any utility lines connecting to the house.”

“Right. No electricity. No telephone. No gas or water lines.” Garin gave Katy the flashlight and said to Joe, “Give me a hand.”

He walked over to the table and placed both hands under one end. Joe did the same at the other end. Garin tilted his head to the left and the two men moved the table several feet in that direction. Garin then returned to where the table had been, bent down, and pried loose a handle that was flush with the floorboards. He pulled, and a three-by-five section of the floor rose, secured at one end by well-oiled hinges. Garin laid the section on the floor and extended his hand toward Katy for the flashlight. “Follow me. Be careful going down the stairs.”

The family descended a dozen stairs as Garin turned on a switch on the nearest wall. The low, somewhat comforting humming sound of an unseen generator was followed by the flickering of bright fluorescent lights on the ceiling. When finally steady, the lights revealed a room nearly twice as large as the one above. The walls were plastered and painted off-white, the same color as the thick, all-weather carpet covering the floor. The place was furnished with two leather couches and a polished wood table surrounded by four comfortable-looking chairs. A large flat-screen television hung on the opposite wall. A few feet to the right of the television was a hallway that led to a bathroom, bedroom, and pantry.

Kimmy, Nicholas, and Alex began running around the room as if they had discovered an underground amusement park. Joe and Katy slowly moved about, examining the amenities.

“I’ll get your stuff,” Garin announced, and disappeared up the stairs. By the time he returned, Joe and Katy had determined that the place was the size of a small one-level home and surprisingly comfortable. Dropping their bags on one of the couches, Garin cataloged the bomb shelter’s features.

“As you’ve probably guessed, the electricity is provided by a couple of generators, with enough fuel for a couple of weeks of normal use. The TV is only for DVDs and games, stored in the cabinet underneath. The pantry has a microwave and enough canned foods and other nonperishables for a couple of months. There’s also a mini-fridge back there if you want to store leftovers, but it will take a while to get cold after you turn it on.

“Water comes from a well, and the switch for the pump is next to the sink in the pantry. Unfortunately, the water for the bathroom sink and shower is cold, but in the summer it’s not too bad. There are also about a hundred gallons of bottled water back there if you don’t like the taste of well water.”

“Geez, Mike,” Joe said. “This is survivalist heaven. What the heck is this place for?”

“A friend of mine who doesn’t believe in coincidences once told me that in my line of work it’s a good thing to be able to completely disappear, go to a place where absolutely no one can find you, not even those you think are your friends. Unfortunately, now that you know about this place, I guess I’ll have to get another one.”

Joe whistled. “Mikey, I’m not going to ask what line of work requires you to have a place like this. I have a general idea, but I suspect you’re way off the radar screen.”

The kids were already playing video games and Katy had wandered off toward the pantry.

“Joe,” Garin said, walking over to a metal locker behind one of the couches, “come here. I want to show you something.”

Garin spun a combination lock on the locker. “Three — thirty-two — seventeen. Got it?”

Joe nodded. Garin opened the locker, revealing an M4 rifle, a Beretta M9, and dozens of magazines of ammunition.

“You can store the Benelli in here so the kids can’t get to it. Besides, you won’t need to use any weapons unless you’ve done something exceptionally stupid. No one knows about this place except me. I bought the cabin above us from an estate, using a cutout. My name’s not on the deed, and the previous owners have been dead since the Great Flood. You’re in the middle of a national park and not even park rangers come up here. It’s not on any utility grid and it’s built so it doesn’t give off any noticeable heat signatures. Just don’t go outside or use your cell and no one could possibly find you.”

“How long are we staying here?” Joe asked.

“You’re staying here a few days. I’ll be leaving in a few hours, once you’re settled in.”

Katy returned from the pantry. “Leaving for where?”

“I haven’t worked that out yet. I need a secure location I can operate from, somewhere no one will know to look for me while I figure out what’s going on and take care of the problem. I can’t do it from here without compromising your safety.”

“Mike,” Joe said, “I have a job. I can’t just disappear. I’ve got to let them know something.”

“I’ll call your job for you first thing tomorrow and tell them a relative died and you’re taking funeral leave to attend services in Texas. Maybe take a couple extra vacation days.” Garin smiled. “Hell, Sergeant Major, they’re scared to death of you. They won’t ask any questions.”

“Michael,” Katy said firmly, “after all this, we deserve to know. Just what is this problem you need to take care of?”

Garin paused to gather his thoughts. He was determined to tell Katy and Joe everything he could without compromising their safety or violating his oath. Through no fault of their own, their lives had been endangered. Ironically, even if he were inclined to disclose classified information, the truth was, he knew very little about what was going on.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much more beyond what I’ve already told you. But I’ll try to give it some context. I work with a group of individuals who are very careful and very skillful. In fact, you won’t find a more capable group in the world. These are not ordinary men. Yet it looks like every single one of them has been killed in the last day. One of them, a longtime friend, was assassinated right in front of me.

“Not only that, but it looks like others close to me have been killed, including someone who used to be my boss. I saw him just last night, so I assume I must be the common denominator. My best guess is that they’re killing everyone to whom they think I disclosed something they want kept secret.”

Katy and Joe were listening intently, their expressions growing increasingly anxious.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think that includes you. They know I wouldn’t disclose classified material to you. But I can’t be absolutely certain of that. That’s one of the reasons we can’t call the cops or FBI. Whoever is behind this has tremendous resources. If we went to the authorities, there’s a fair probability that the bad guys would find out and then be able to locate you. They could then use you — possibly even kill you — to get to me.”

“And the other reason?” Katy asked.

“The FBI is looking for me already. Two men tried to kill me in my apartment this afternoon. They failed; I didn’t. The FBI found the bodies. Someone told the FBI to look there. Obviously, that someone had sent the attackers in the first place. Therefore, that someone wants me dead and wants the FBI to think I’m somehow involved in the deaths of my friends.”

“Is there someone other than the FBI you can go to?” Katy asked. “Whoever it is you work for, couldn’t you just go to them and give them the facts?”

“Problem. The individuals who provide us direction and logistics are all dead. So, at this point, I have to assume everyone’s a possible bad guy until proven otherwise.”

“Are you saying the government could be involved?” Katy asked.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Contrary to popular belief, the government does not have a general policy of assassinating its citizens on American soil. But there may be someone in the government who’s working with, or for, the bad guys. In fact, it’s a near certainty. That’s the only way they could’ve pulled off what they did. So, before I contact anyone for help, I have to be sure — at least as sure as I can be, given the circumstances — that the person’s clean.”

The look on Joe’s face was that of an unsentimental realist. It was clear that he was skeptical the matter would be resolved favorably.

“But, Michael. Why?” Katy asked. “Do you have any idea why this is happening?”

Garin’s mind flashed to an image he thought he’d seen in a tunnel in Pakistan a few days ago. More accurately, it was a series of images he’d definitely seen but had difficulty placing or comprehending. He believed, however, that he knew someone who could help him get some answers.

“I don’t know. There are three possible reasons why we were targeted: to retaliate for something we did; to prevent us from doing something in the future; or to erase something we know. Maybe it’s a combination of the three. My hunch is that someone is trying to erase something we know. That’s why they also targeted my old boss. They think I might have told him something.”

“Mike, this doesn’t sound like you can get the answers by yourself. And definitely not in a few days,” Joe said.

Garin lowered his head slightly, conceding the point. Then he looked at his sister. “Sorry, Katy. You didn’t ask for this. You shouldn’t be burdened with this. It’s not your fight.”

Katy glanced at her husband and then took a step closer to Garin, an intense look on her face. She spoke in a quiet, controlled voice, but her tone was insistent. “I don’t want to hear that sorry crap, Michael. We’re hiding in a damn bunker. In the United States of America. My kids’ lives are in danger.” She pointed her right index finger at his chest, jabbing for punctuation. “You go on offense right now. Find out who these bastards are and take it to them. No excuses. That’s what Pop would do. That’s what Pop would expect you to do. He would expect you to make things right. And it seems to me that means making absolutely sure that the people responsible for all of this can never do it again.”