The Ghost Ships of Arizona

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

Hayden woke with a start, quickly reaching out for Kinimaka’s reassuring bulk at her side. The Hawaiian grunted and rolled, slipping an arm around her. Hayden didn’t like to struggle away but something was definitely bugging her. Some kind of intuition. Sunlight flooded through the closed hotel room curtains but that didn’t mean it was late. A quick glance at the Pulsar on her wrist told her it was a little after 7 a.m. Knowing Mano was difficult to wake at the easiest of times she slid backwards in the bed until she sat upright and surveyed the room.

Shit, perhaps it was Tyler Webb’s stalking back in DC or getting their butts kicked twice already, or even the reports of the ghost ships that Drake was tracking through the desert, but an unsettled sensation stole over her. Kinimaka snored, face to the pillow. Hayden slipped out of bed, suddenly feeling exposed in her underwear, and shrugged on a bath robe. Water dripped in the shower. Traffic roared outside the slightly cracked window. Someone walked noisily past along the hallway. All normal and natural noises for a middle-of-the-road hotel room, nothing sinister. But having reviewed all forms of stalking she knew that the worst and most dangerous forms were those where the victim wasn’t entirely sure if it was happening. The ones that haunted people, made them edgy for no obvious reason.

Why were the hairs on the back of her neck standing up?

Were her clothes piled differently than she remembered? Her pants folded along a new crease? Her shirt arranged so that the arms were flung up in a classic “hands high” pose? Or did she leave everything that way? Was that bathroom door left wide open last night? Because she knew damn well that she’d closed it to reduce the noise from the dripping tap. Maybe Mano had—

Wait. That wasn’t right.

Hayden padded over to the bureau. Sure enough her Glock sat in the center of the desk. The problem was, she always slept with it under her pillow, ever since her father explained it was the only place in the room she could reach it easily and a perp might not be able to steal it away as she slept. Old fashioned, yes, but as true as the coming of night and day. There was nothing subtle about this situation now.

“No!” How could this keep happening? And in such a random hotel room. Shivers crept up and down her spine. She knew very well that Webb possessed endless and multi-layered connections. It wouldn’t be too tricky for a man of means and he clearly got off on the danger.

Kinimaka was struggling toward consciousness. “Wha—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hayden said. “Get dressed, Mano. We have a job to do.”

With the CIA’s and NSA’s mega-boffins investigating the inner workings of the Z-box and studying what the Pythians were trying to achieve by so rapidly targeting energy facilities, the proactive competence of Hayden’s team was severely limited. It was with exultation then that they received the best guess of the NSA — that the third and final facility to be assaulted would be the electrical grid and major substation of Sierra Nevada.

Hayden immediately jabbed the ongoing call onto speakerphone and motioned at Kinimaka and Dahl. “We have a lead,” she said, as she walked along the sidewalk to their vehicle, shop fronts to her right. “They’re saying Sierra Nevada will be next.” She paused, then stared at the phone. “How can you possibly know that?”

A small voice hissed from the microphone. “Deduction and possibility. We weighed the options. Nothing endgame has materialized as yet so that means these people do not have everything they need. Perhaps they need as many as three entry points, then—”

“Entry points?”

“Ways into the main system. Yes, they have been gaining access to substations and taking nothing away. That means they’re leaving something behind. But why?”

Dahl coughed. “We were hoping you might tell us.”

“Yeah, the question was a rhetorical one. We believe they’re creating a back door — a way into the system but we don’t yet know how. Quite probably something to do with these Z-boxes. Anyhow, both San Jose and Silicon Valley were primary junctions for the electrical grid. The only other one in your area is Sierra Nevada.”

Dahl flung open the door. “We’re on our way. Let’s hope this time we can beat them to it.”

Hayden ran around the other side, giving Kinimaka the back seat. “A plan would be useful.”

“I have a plan. Take down any motherfucker toting a gun near an electrical substation.”

Kinimaka checked his weapon. “I can get behind that.”

Hayden thanked the NSA techie and hung up. She stared through the windshield as Dahl pulled into traffic, wondering if even now they were being observed. Dahl questioned the whereabouts of the Sierra Nevada plant and Hayden looked it up. With a few jabs she programmed it into the satnav. Then her cell rang once more.

“Jaye.”

“This is Robert Price.”

“Mr. Secretary. What can I do for you?” She was relatively pleased he had come back to her without needing to be chased.

“You have your reinforcements. I’m sending a large force your way, formed from various military divisions. I left the dispersal in their hands, but I’m guessing — contact in four to six hours.”

Hayden was grateful and said so. “The Pythians seem to be throwing everything they have at this so it’s good to have the backup.”

“Use it well, Miss Jaye. We’ll speak the next time you’re in DC.”

Seeing that as a dismissal, Hayden severed the connection and looked around. “I wonder what that’s supposed to mean.”

“He’s not Jonathan,” Kinimaka said. “But then nobody could be.”

“His way of ending a conversation and moving on to the next.” Dahl shrugged. “Impersonal, but effective.”

“We might never be in DC again.”

“There you go.”

Hayden checked the nav for the arrival calculation. “Forty two minutes. Step on it, Dahl. We have to beat the asshole brigade this time.”

“The foot is down.”