Chasing Ghosts (20 page)

Robert refilled Sheila’s glass with iced tea.
“I understand you had a hand in that engagement party fiasco. Nick
is a bit more distressed than he is letting on.”

Sheila’s face flushed again as she pressed
her hands across her linen skirt. “Sometimes people just need a
little push. I miscalculated Sara’s feelings for Nick, that’s
all.”

“
In the future,” Robert said, his gaze
locking onto hers, “I would appreciate it if you would leave your
pushing to the Monroe family.”

“
I meant no harm, Robert. I hope you
believe me.”

Padre thought if Sheila’s face got any
redder, she’d need an ice pack.

“
Of course. I’ve done my share of
meddling in my sons’ lives so I know how much harm can be done. I
have to admit I’m guilty of miscalculating their relationship, too.
I was also guilty of trying to manipulate him. I dangled one of our
island resorts in front of Nick, hinting that it would look far
more professional if he exhibited a serious commitment to business
and his life. Believe me, I see the errors of my ways.”

“
Why? What happened?” Sheila placed a
hand on Robert’s arm. Padre was getting pretty good at reading
Sheila. She was like a chameleon being jealous and manipulative one
minute and a concerned friend with motherly overtones the
next.

“
He flew to Hawaii to do some surfing.
At least Eric is there so he can give him some brotherly advice.
Matter of fact, tomorrow morning after the cardinal leaves for
Rome, I’m going to head there myself. We are going to have a Tyler
family R and R. Try to get back on track. It will be good to spend
some time with my grandson.”

“
I would think if you were going to be
upset with someone, Robert, it would be Sara, not me.” When Sheila
bristled, it wasn’t a pretty image. She didn’t wear jealousy
well.

“
Sara was the victim in this, as was
Nick. I was trying to control him for my own benefit and you were
trying to control the entire situation for your own benefit.
Neither one of us was innocent in this.”

Padre felt like an intruder in a family spat
and desperately wanted to change the subject. “I’m glad I’m here
should you two take the gloves off, but if I might interject a
question here regarding the cardinal, Mr. Tyler.”

“
Sure, I’m sorry.”

“
After the break-in, did the cardinal
notice if his briefcase had been tampered with, maybe documents
stolen or perhaps noticed that someone logged onto his computer
while he was at the dinner?”

“
For one thing, the laptop was here. It
wasn’t at the hotel. More importantly, I don’t think he would be
the person to ask any questions regarding the computer.”

“
Why’s that?”

“
He writes everything in long hand.
Hasn’t stepped into the electronic age, in his words. Thomas types
all of the cardinal’s notes into the laptop.”

CHAPTER 25

Dagger glanced at the satellite image
on the monitor as he sped past several buildings. Up ahead was a
fenced in area as far as the eye could see. He slammed his foot on
the brake and spun the car 180 degrees. He checked the monitor
again, the car idling. A rusted sign on the fence said
Gemini Missile Silo.
And just below
the name was the symbol for BettaTec.

Out of force of habit, his eyes scanned the
fencing for cameras, but what did it matter? BettaTec had the
biggest eye in the sky. Thankfully, according to Skizzy’s findings,
the two satellites weren’t pointed over this area, which made
Dagger wonder, why not?

He studied the ghost town stretched out in
front of him. An asphalt street without curbs made it look as
though some Hollywood studio had thrown up a backdrop overnight for
a movie scene. The buildings were wooden, some windows broken out,
some doors yawning open in the hot wind, banging incessantly
against the doorjambs. Weeds and litter tumbled across the asphalt.
Dagger watched for any signs of movement, listened for voices,
music. He punched a button on the grid and checked for cameras,
then rolled the Cobalt slowly down the street letting Skizzy’s toy
scramble any cameras he hadn’t detected that might still be in
operation.

He parked the car in front of a building with
a striped pole. Cautiously he climbed out of the car and slammed
the door. His eyes scanned rooftops, the narrow alleyways between
buildings. He opened the door to the barber shop and stepped
inside. Three chairs faced the doorway waiting for their next
customers. Carcasses of bugs and birds scattered a dirt-covered
wooden floor. Towels lay across the tops of chairs, one towel
tossed on a counter.

Dagger stepped back outside and entered the
next building. Shelves were stocked with canned goods and torn
boxes which looked as though animals might have had a feast. What
was missing was a cash register, or perhaps that was the only thing
anyone thought of taking. A rack by the door had a stack of
newspapers. Dagger pulled one from the middle of the stack to avoid
all the dirt and grit. It was dated five years ago.

A scratching sound came from upstairs. Dagger
froze. Slowly he pulled the Kimber from its holster and stood
silently for several minutes, listening. The tapping and scratching
were coming from directly above him. A staircase in the back ran
along the side of the wall. Dagger moved cautiously, his finger
twitching on the trigger. The scratching intensified as he climbed
the wooden stairs. He stepped on the outer edges of the staircase
to avoid weak spots in the middle that might creak under his
weight.

Daylight fell across the top of the stairs.
This town was in the middle of nowhere. He hadn’t noticed any cars
parked anywhere, although one could be hidden in back or in a
garage. Perhaps he should have walked behind all the buildings
first before venturing inside.

The wood groaned under his foot. Dagger
stopped as did the scratching sounds. He didn’t recall any fire
escapes on the outside of the buildings so whoever was up here
would have to go through him. With the gun at the ready, he peered
over the railing, then rushed to the top of the stairs.

A flash of feathers and loud cawing charged
up from the floor. Dagger stumbled backwards, his finger almost
firing off a round at the crows feasting on what looked like a dead
rodent.

The birds rushed through the open window
leaving Dagger to chase his pulse back to normal. “Damn.” He
avoided the rat as he crossed the floor. Two chairs sat in front of
the window as though lookouts had been positioned here at one time.
What were they watching out for? Or whom?

There was another door to his right. Dagger
should have brought a flashlight but he had left the gym bag in the
car. He used the Kimber to tap the door open. He felt the wall for
a light switch and flipped it on. It was a bathroom. The tub and
sink were water stained. The toilet seat was up. He opened a
cabinet above the sink. It had several toothbrushes and a used tube
of toothpaste, some bandages, and antiseptic spray. A narrow closet
behind him contained two towels and washcloths. One towel was
draped over a towel bar by the tub.

Dagger returned to the first floor and found
the back door. It, too, had been left unlocked. He stepped out into
a backdrop of more sand and empty prairie. The next building had
also been left unlocked. The back room had scales for what might be
used for weighing packages. He threaded his way to the front to
find mail slots and a counter. The mail slots were empty. They had
been careful not to leave any mail lying around.

He stepped through the front door and made
his way into the street. This couldn’t be a town. There were only
eight buildings resembling army barracks. It was more like a guard
station. A building at the end of the block confirmed his theory.
Five stories high with an enclosed stairway, it resembled a watch
tower. Was it a control tower for private planes? Dagger climbed
the stairs two at a time. The top floor was walled with glass on
four sides. A desk and one chair were against a wall. If he had
hoped for a log book or notes, he was sorely disappointed.

Dagger should have brought binoculars with
him. His own well-stocked gym bag was at home but he had avoided
going home first, preferring to grab what he could from Skizzy and
get on the road. From the watch tower he could see a fenced in area
the size of a dozen or more football fields. Short, round silos
were spaced hundreds of yards apart. Gemini Missile Silo.
Abandoned, forgotten. There were also several flat metal objects,
what looked like square manhole covers. Escape hatches? Only one
way to find out.

“
Open up. I know you’re in there.”
Padre squinted through the blinds in the window. He pounded his
fist on the door again. “HEY! Do you want the Health Department
inspector to pay you a visit?”

The door was pulled open a scant two inches.
One hazel- colored eye stared somewhere over Padre’s shoulder,
although Padre was sure it was supposed to be aimed directly at his
face.

“
You know it’s polite to call and
request an appointment,” Skizzy growled.

“
I have an appointment.” Padre held up
his badge. “Now open up.” The cop pushed his way through. The door
was immediately slammed shut and locked. “You owe me a report.
Since you aren’t coming to see me, I’m coming to see
you.”

“
Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Skizzy grumbled.
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I don’t have anything to
tell you?” He weaved his way around the counter and barked, “Stay
there.”

Padre scanned the shelves lining the walls,
his expert eyes looking for anything suspicious. He knew Skizzy was
too smart to leave guns sitting out. Instead the showcases held
jewelry, ivory-handled knives, colored glassware that he remembered
his mother calling carnival glass, lamps with carved bases, pocket
watches. “Hey, I thought you had a pawn shop here,” Padre called
out. “It looks more like a garage sale or flea market.”

Skizzy emerged from the draped doorway, paper
in hand. “Are you disparaging my establishment?”

Padre stifled a smile. “How the hell do you
make a living selling this junk?”

One bulging eyeball jerked up, making
Skizzy’s face appear distorted. “I get by. Whazzit to you?” He slid
the piece of paper across the counter.

“
That’s it? One sheet of paper?” Padre
scanned the report picking his way through a crossword puzzle of
words. “Not so surprising that the Pope is mentioned.”

“
It isn’t unless…”

Padre tossed a withering glare and waited.
But then his cop brain kicked into gear. “Nah.” He re-read the
words. “You don’t think these are threats against the Pope, do
you?”

“
Oh, so now I’m a psychic?” Skizzy
snatched the paper from Padre’s fingers. “Dagger, being of the ever
suspicious mind, thinks it might not be the cardinal’s flash drive.
Did the cardinal mention his got stolen?”

“
He swears nothing is missing from his
hotel room.” Padre wasn’t sure what he could do with this
information. He couldn’t exactly call the Vatican. “No city, no
date, no specifics.”

“
Yeah, pretty cryptic. Almost reads
like a to do list—pick up the laundry, gallon of milk, kill the
Pope.”

“
Dagger tell you the jumper had the
same DNA as the guy dumped in the quarry?” He was fishing, he knew
it, and Skizzy’s face was hard to read. The squirrelly guy’s one
eyebrow lowered while the opposite one raised, like two flagships
passing each other.

“
Government clones. I’ve been warning
you people for years.”

You people?
Padre would have better luck talking to the residents of the
Cedar Point Mental Hospital. “When’s the last time Dagger saw Doc
Akins?”

“
You’d have to ask Dagger.”

“
I would but he left town.” “There you
go.”

There I go? “He’s not answering his cell
phone.”

“
He’s probably on a religious retreat,
maybe getting his inner feng shui recalibrated.”

Padre didn’t have an answer for that. He just
shook his head, waved his thanks, and left.

Dagger crossed the field to the closest
escape hatch. The gym bag he retrieved from the car contained
weapons, the pick gun, and provisions. Unfortunately, the pick gun
had been useless on the outer fence’s rusted lock. He had to shoot
it off instead. Skizzy’s toy was clipped to his belt. It would
scramble any surveillance cameras. Although the black sleeveless
tee shirt provided some relief from the heat, the color seemed to
absorb the sun’s rays.

He gathered his hair into a ponytail as he
studied the metal lid. It was much larger up close. The lid was
split with two handles. He pulled on the handle and one half of the
door opened with ease. Below him were metal stairs into darkness.
He shoved the sunglasses in his pocket, flicked on the flashlight,
adjusted the strap of the gym bag on his shoulder, and entered.
Although Dagger welcomed the outside light, leaving the hatch open
might draw unwanted attention. He wasn’t sure if anyone patrolled
the area, but he didn’t want to take the chance and also didn’t
want to get locked in. A piece of wood lay several feet away. He
used it to prop open the hatch before proceeding down the
stairs.

The halogen beam sprayed light over stone
walls. The shaft was the size of a freight elevator with a metal
stairway. He cast a nervous glance at the steel hatch one flight
up. A fragile stake of wood propped open the hatch leaching a scant
two inches of sunlight into the dark. Leaning over the railing, he
aimed the halogen beam down the shaft revealing an endless number
of stairs. How far did it extend and what awaited him at the
bottom?