Chain Reaction Power Failure Book I Page 13

  I guess coming to the open house last year paid off.

  The door to his sister’s private office boasted no guard, much to his relief. He took a brief look around and went inside. He scanned the room, stunned at the devastation he found within.

  Her desk drawers and file cabinets stood open. They appeared to be empty, a condition he attributed to the officers in the other room. He also noticed the top of her desk was bare. Things one would expect to find, the phone, computer accessories, etcetera, were missing. He spotted a photo of him and his sister, one that stood on her desk for years, now lying on the floor. He clenched his fists in anger, seeing the delicate frame crushed to splinters.

  Acknowledging the fact that his sister was a bona-fide clean freak, the disarray chalked up another point for major trouble. He knew she required order in her lab and office. On the two occasions he’d visited her there, she was surrounded by some of the most efficient and neatly organized work areas he had ever seen. She once told him it was a reflection of her attempt to force order in the rest of her life. The mess reminded him of the aftermath of a frat party, with the chairs broken and tables overturned.

  But this was no collage bash. The people who did this weren’t here for fun.

  He snapped himself out of his tangent thoughts and reminded himself of the task at hand.

  Just get the laptop and get out…quick.

  Shaking his head in disgust, he walked around the largest area of the debris field, making his way to her desk. He looked around and couldn’t immediately find the computer. Continuing the search, he finally saw the laptop, partially hidden beneath a pile of papers spilled from a file cabinet now lying on its side against the wall. He picked it up and followed the cord back to the charger. He put them into his bag with the rest of the stuff he’d brought from New York.

  Mission: accomplished. Time to get the hell out of here.

  The trip back to the lobby was uneventful, just the way he’d hoped. As he took the last strides toward the exit he heard footsteps. Folding himself into the shadows behind the potted fern a second time, he watched as a man stopped right next to the giant plant.

  The officer, youngish with a dark suit and a gold badge hanging from a chain around his neck, pulled a cell phone from his pocket and punched in a number. From his lair behind the foliage, Brent could clearly hear the beeps as the phone dialed. Panic griped him as he just knew the man could hear his ragged breathing. Getting an answer, the officer identified himself to whoever was on the other end as Special Agent Farnsworth of the FBI.

  From his vantage point Brent could hear the agent explain that the clean up operation at the lab was almost finished, but so far no solid leads had yet emerged. He continued to listen, thinking the one-sided conversation might reveal something about what kind of trouble followed his sister.

  The agent said he’d checked the security desk and the surveillance tapes were missing. Brent noticed that whoever was on the other end of the line didn’t like that news at all.

  Brent could hear Farnsworth back-peddling. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where Dr. Ryan is… yet. But don’t worry I’ll find her and we will have the research back in our hands soon. She can’t stay in hiding forever. As soon as she surfaces we’ll bring her in.”

  The agent paused for a moment to listen then responded. “I know…yes, I understand how important this project is. I’m telling you, I have the situation in hand and you can rest assured Ryan and anyone who helped her will be taken care of.”

  Brent couldn’t believe his ears. How could the FBI think that Jenny would steal secret research form her lab? It doesn’t make any sense, none of it.

  He couldn’t think of a more trustworthy person than his sister. She’s honest to the point of being annoying at times.

  He knew he had to find her and warn her. If I’m not already too late.

  Still crouched behind the fern, he silently watched the agent finish his phone call and walk back toward the offices. He knew he was pushing his luck hiding in the reception area and figured he better get moving. He couldn’t do anything more for Jenny until he found her and got some answers.

  His anger still burning hotly, he bristled at hearing that the feds thought Jenny had something to do with the theft at the lab.

  She couldn’t steal her research any more than she could sprout wings and fly!

  Her instructions came back in cryptic waves, ordering him to meet her at the office of Casey Construction.

  I better get up there and find out what the hell is going on.

  He listened carefully for signs that anyone was coming his way and he prepared to make his escape. His pulse raced as he reached for the door, thinking he was almost home free. Brent pulled on the handle just as a strong voice split the air.

  “Stop right there, sir! FBI,” the man barked.

  Brent looked at the reflection in the glass doors. A few feet behind him a tall, muscular man in a black suit stood tensed, his steely expression reinforcing the clam control in his voice.

  Another agent, crap!

  “Drop the bag, turn around and put your hands on the wall.” The reflection ordered.

  Brent immediately noticed the agent’s arm held open the jacket of his suit, the thick fingers of his right hand wrapped around the butt of a black automatic resting in a skeleton holster at his hip.

  Brent groaned, slowly raising his hands and placing them on the wall as the agent ordered. “Take it easy, I’m not armed.”

  The agent moved closer, using his tree-like forearm to pin Brent to the wall, searching for weapons before removing a wallet from his back pocket.

  The agent examined Brent’s driver’s license and turned him around. “All right Mr. Ryan you want to tell me what you were doing entering a crime scene?”

  For a split second Brent thought about what to say, until it suddenly dawned on him that the agent thought he was coming in to the office, not going out, so he played dumb.

  Not a big stretch, since I have no freakin’ clue what’s going on!

  “I’m sorry officer, but I didn’t know this was a crime scene. I’ll leave right now.”

  Brent suddenly felt overcome by a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to get away as easily as he’d first hoped. The agent gave Brent a menacing look and pointed down the hall. “Not until we see the agent in charge.”

  The muscular man reached to pick up the abandoned duffle bag and directed Brent with a nod of his head. “Move.”

  As the agent led him into the main reception area, he saw a group of officers clustered around a tall dark-haired woman.

  As they approached, Brent listened as she spoke, giving directions to an obviously junior agent.

  “I don’t care what kind of clearance they had!” she barked in impatience. “Find out who that guard gave those surveillance tapes to and get them back!”

  This must be the ‘agent in charge’. Brent correctly surmised.

  The woman turned around as Brent and the burly agent who found him approached.

  “Well Marco, what’s this?” The lady agent asked, settling her eyes on Brent.

  Agent Phillip Marco cleared his throat and nervously replied. “Carla, he was inside the perimeter. I checked him out and his name is Brent Ryan. I thought you might want to talk to him.”

  FBI special Agent Carla Raven was thirty-four, tall and attractive, her long dark hair sat pulled into a series of complicated braids atop her head. She stood at ease among the chaos of activity.

  “I most certainly do. I see that your last name is Ryan, are you related to a Jennifer Jane Ryan?”

  “What’s going on?” Brent continued with the innocent act.

  Agent Raven crossed her arms over an ample chest, her voice strong and direct. “I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind.”

  Brent hesitated a second too long for the federal agent’s temperament. “Are you related to Jennifer Ryan?” She gave him a withering glare. “Yes or no, and don’t even think about lying to me.
”

  Brent thought he’d better answer and see what he could learn. He had no reason to be afraid of this woman, well almost not reason.

  “Yes. She’s my sister. Now, will you please tell me what’s going on here?”

  The lady agent continued, her manner firm, every pointed question sternly demanding a satisfactory answer. “Do you know where she is now?”

  “She’s not here?”

  Raven rolled her eyes in impatience. “If she was here, would I be asking?”

  “No. Sorry,” he said, the words small and contrite. “I don’t know where she is. Is something wrong? Is she all right?”

  Taking a notebook from her jacket pocket, Carla ignored his questions. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m in town for the day and I was going to take her to lunch, as a surprise.” He lied.

  “In town from where?” she asked, pen jotting notes.

  “New York. I just arrived an hour ago.”

  She cocked an eyebrow at his admission. “Can you prove that?”

  He reached into his jacket, the slow and deliberate move designed to be innocuous, and handed his itinerary to the agent.

  Raven gave it a quick glance and then forwarded it to Agent Marco before turning back to Ryan.

  “Did she know you were coming?”

  “Not exactly.” Brent replied.

  “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”

  “Like I said, it was supposed to be a surprise.”

  “When was the last time you talked to her?” the lady agent continued.

  He thought for a second about how to answer. He knew that if he told her he talked to his sister that very morning, he was busted. That wouldn’t help him or Jenny, so he lied, again.

  “I called her last week, telling her I’d be here, and maybe we could have lunch.”

  Quickly making more notes as he spoke, Carla threw out another question. “Where were you supposed to meet?”

  “We hadn’t decided,” he said. “I was going to let her pick the restaurant.”

  “When you last spoke to her, did she mention her work?”

  “No, she didn’t. We never discuss her job.”

  “Really?” The agent locked her gaze on him, her intelligent blue eyes belying a customary skepticism. “That surprises me. Not to tell you of some success or set back?”

  “No, Agent Raven, we did not talk about her work.” He flared in anger, her attitude grating on his already-unsettled nerves.

  This fed has Jenny tried and convicted already!

  “Why not,” Raven went on, entirely undaunted by his outburst. “Isn’t it normal for two siblings to tell each other about their jobs?”

  “Yes, of course it’s normal…for most people…to talk about their jobs, but not my sister.”

  “Oh? And why is that? Was she keeping secrets from you?”

  Brent’s annoyance inched up another notch, causing a ringing in his ears. He didn’t like Agent Raven’s implication…not one little bit.

  “No…I mean…yes. Of course she was keeping secrets from me.” He paused for several seconds in an effort to control his anger. “She wouldn’t talk about her work because, as I’m sure you already know, most of her work is classified. She took that very seriously.”

  Carla examined his driver’s license briefly and paused for a few seconds. “So you’re telling me you came here from New York for a visit, and you hadn’t spoken to your sister in a week?”

  “Yes, Agent Raven, that’s the way it is,” he replied, the increasing tension in his voice now unmistakable. “Now I’ve answered your questions. So can you please tell me what’s going on here?”

  Raven flipped the notebook closed and returned it to her jacket before answering. “Mr. Ryan, your sister disappeared two days ago and so did the project she was working on. What I want from you is where I can find her.”

  Brent was livid now. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs.

  How could this woman think Jenny would steal her own research?

  He took a deep breath in an unsuccessful effort to quiet the roar of blood in his ears, then he spoke in a staccato burst. “Missing! How?...What are you doing to find her? She could be in danger!”

  “We believe she removed some classified material from this lab and you’re going to tell me where she is.”

  “No way Agent Raven. You’re wrong! She would never do something even remotely like that. She loves her job and she’s just too dammed honest.”

  “Well Mr. Ryan, here’s your chance to prove it. Tell me where she is.”

  “I told you already. I don’t know, but if she’s been missing for two days, then it can’t be her idea. Has it occurred to you that she may have been abducted?”

  Raven raised an eyebrow, her face painted in skepticism. “What makes you think she was abducted?”

  “Because, Agent Raven, I know my sister. She wouldn’t go away for two days without talking to someone, me, her boss…or a co-worker or something. Agent Raven, she’s in trouble. I can feel it.”

  “What you say makes sense, on the surface, but all the evidence points to your sister as the perpetrator, not the victim.”

  He stood rock still, silently fuming, trying to keep the tenuous control on his temper while the anger surged through his system in burning waves.

  After several tense moments, Carla broke the stilted silence. “Okay, this is getting us nowhere. Marco, take Mr. Ryan to the office and get a full statement, hold him there until I get back.”

  Brent couldn’t keep the anger bottled up any longer. “So you’re not going to do anything about what I just told you, are you?” He railed.

  She shot him a burning glare. “Look Mr. Ryan, I can understand how you feel. You don’t want to believe your sister could do this, but the facts say otherwise. Until I get evidence to the contrary, I have to operate under the assumption that she stole the research and disappeared to avoid capture. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

  “I can see that!” Brent said, his voice heavily laced with a caustic sarcasm.

  Moving closer, Carla locked her gaze to Brent’s. Her stare never left his as she spoke to her near-by subordinate.

  “Marco, take Mr. Ryan downtown. Remember, he’s not under arrest, so see to it that he is comfortable, but does not leave.”

  Brent knew that he had to try something, anything, to get out of this. “Agent Raven, if I’m not under arrest then I’m leaving.” He said, hoping that forcing her to commit to an arrest might make her reconsider detaining him at all.

  Hardening to ice, her penetrating blue eyes again bored into his. “You seem like a smart man Mr. Ryan. I really hope arresting you won’t be necessary. Since you’re so sure of your sister’s innocence, I expect you to cooperate fully on your own. Otherwise, I’ll have to take you into custody as a material witness. That means a holding cell, not a cup of coffee and comfortable chair in my office.”

  Brent knew he was beaten and further antagonizing the agent would serve no useful purpose.

  “Fine, I’ll go with him. But, since I’m going of my own volition, I ask you to please return my property.”

  She frowned, then nodded at Marco. He unzipped the bag and briefly rifled through it before handing it back. She then turned and left them.

  Agent Marco pointed to the door. “You heard Agent Raven, let’s go.”

  His tone and demeanor left no question about his intentions. As Marco led him toward the elevator, Brent pointed to a restroom sign hanging from the ceiling, then spoke to his brawny escort.

  “Hey, mister, can we stop at the head? I gotta go.”

  Agent Marco stopped and turned to him. “It’s Special Agent Marco…stop at the what?”

  “The head, you know, the can.”

  Marco looked at him in disbelief, an incredulous frown crossing his features. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No, I’m not. I just spent three hours on a cramped airplane and my back teeth are floating. Please, I just
need a second.”

  “Very funny,” Marco said. “Now you just be a man and tie it in a knot until we get to the office.”

  Brent had half a plan and he figured he wouldn’t get another chance, so he went for broke.

  “Look Agent Marco, I foresee two possibilities here. One; I can hold on until we get to your office…maybe, or two; you can give me a second now and you won’t have to listen to me whine all the way over there. Besides, it’s not like I’m under arrest or anything, right?”

  The agent’s heavy brow knitted in concentration for several seconds. “Fine, just quit acting like a bitchy little girl.”

  Pushing open the door, Marco gave a quick inspection of the room before stepping out of the doorway.

  “Okay smart guy, you have one minute. Better pee fast.”

  Brent stared up at the embossed panels of the drop-ceiling overhead as he relieved himself. He recalled the layout of the building, knowing he had one chance in a million of getting away with the completely hair-brained scheme taking shape in his mind.

  Zipping up his fly, he pulled a pair of well-worn sneakers out of his gym bag, along with a spare pair of jeans, arranging them to appear as if he sat on the toilet.

  Standing on the back of the toilet tank, he gently lifted out a ceiling panel and pulled himself into the steel gridwork. Gingerly placing each hand and knee, he balanced on the supports as he crawled along, managing not to fall through the lattice before reaching the room across the hall. He lowered himself down through the false panels, dropping silently to the bare concrete floor below.

  The tiny custodian’s closet was enveloped in pitch black, all the lights turned off. He could smell the solvents and bleach fumes burned his nose. Groping along the walls as he stumbled in the darkness, Brent felt a sharp pain shoot through his forehead as he slammed it into a low-hanging storage shelf, the loud crash sending adrenaline shooting into his bloodstream.

  Emerging in the hall on the opposite side of his adversary, Brent made a run for it. He breathed a sigh of relief, figuring he had the better part of a minute before his guard came in after him.