He was off grid and intended to stay that way.
He slowed as he made the turn onto the private road leading to the lodge below Mt. Wilson. Would his family be there? His friends?
Will they forgive me?
The swing gate was open, and that gave him hope.
***
“One of the bikers from the raid at Lake Tahoe?” Jamal’s voice sounded in Farhad’s headset. Like the rest of the team, Jamal watched from his hidden assault position.
“Perhaps,” Farhad replied, but his racing heart hoped differently. He used his binoculars to get a better look. The helmeted biker stopped in the clearing fifty yards in front of the lodge, one foot on the ground and both hands still gripping the handlebars as he scanned his surroundings. When the man’s attention turned in his direction, Farhad lowered the field glasses and edged behind a tree. “Cover,” he whispered into his microphone.
After a long moment, the biker goosed the throttle and moved forward. The motorcycle rolled up to the front porch, where the rider killed the motor, set the kickstand, and unstrapped his helmet.
Farhad brought the binoculars up, holding his breath as the rider peeled off the helmet. From the poor lighting and his angle behind the man, Farhad couldn’t be sure, but the height and frame were accurate. It must be him, Farhad thought. He could almost feel the excitement surging through the rest of his team.
Jamal whispered over the comm net, “Our prayers have been—” He stopped when the rider turned toward them to set the helmet on the bike, revealing his face.
Farhad looked hard at the man’s distorted features. To the casual observer, the face that stared back was not that of the man who’d become known as the global terrorist. But the disguise—or facial injury, if that’s what it was—couldn’t hide the steely eyes from Farhad’s gaze through the magnified lenses of the binoculars. He’d seen those eyes in his dreams. “Don’t be fooled,” he said, holding his hand over the microphone to keep his voice from traveling. “It’s Jake Bronson. Remain perfectly still.”
“Then it’s finally time to end this.” Jamal’s voice was hushed.
“Yes, it is, but we are not going to underestimate him as so many others have done in the past. Hold your positions for now. We need intel. Ghazi?”
“I launched the bug drone ten seconds ago.”
This was the perfect application for the MAV—micro air vehicle. The nano drone looked and moved like a dragonfly, its wings auto-adjusting to compensate for wind.
Ghazi’s voice was soft. “It’s approaching the east side of the lodge. The second window from the front is cracked open.”
Adjusting the field glasses, Farhad caught a glimpse of the bug drone as it alighted onto the window screen. The curtains were drawn but the open window would allow them to eavesdrop. He exchanged a grin with Hadi.
***
“He’s coming up the steps,” Ahmed said, flattening himself against the wall beside the front door. He gripped the Glock with both hands in front of his chest.
Tony crouched on the opposite side of the entrance, his shouldered MP5 aimed at the door handle. “Steady,” Tony said. “Follow my lead.”
Ahmed nodded, but a part of him wanted to make the first move, to yank open the door and put two slugs in the biker’s chest before the intruder could harm any of them. His heart raced, but the pistol was firm and steady in his hands. He’d already ratcheted a round into the chamber.
His mom and sister were hunkered down in the back room. He’d refused to join them, and had been pleased when Tony succumbed and assigned him to his current spot. Marshall and Lacey were also armed, crouched behind an upturned coffee table. They all knew the stakes. Somehow one of the bikers had tracked them to this location. Was the rider on his own, or were there others hiding in the surrounding forest? Ahmed had risked a glance out a window when they first heard the motorcycle, and he thought he’d caught a reflective glint in the distant trees. But he couldn’t be sure. Either way, I won’t hesitate.
The biker or bikers must not be permitted to leave alive.
He flinched at the knocks on the door, but then adrenaline charged through his limbs. He raised his weapon.
***
As he climbed the steps to the porch, Jake felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched. But all he heard was the rustle of leaves and the buzz of insects. There was no sign of activity inside. Bracing himself, he knocked on the door.
He heard a faint thud inside, but nobody came to the door. He stepped to one side, wrapped his hand around the grip of his grandfather’s holstered Colt .45, and knocked again.
“Tony? You in there?”
“Are you shittin’ me?” Tony’s voice sounded from inside. “Jake, is that you?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”
“You son of a bitch!” The door burst open, and Tony’s roundhouse punch froze inches from Jake’s jaw, the big guy’s eyes bugging out at the sight of Jake’s distorted face. “Jesus,” Tony gasped. He stepped forward and wrapped Jake in a bear hug that lifted him from his feet. “Damn, it’s good to see you, pal.” Tony set him down and grabbed both shoulders as he scrutinized his features. “I think it’s an improvement. Where the hell have you been?”
Before Jake could answer, Ahmed stepped through the door. Jake noted the Glock his adopted son had tucked into his belt. Ahmed winced at the sight of Jake’s face, but when their eyes locked, Ahmed overcame his touch phobia and rushed forward to give Jake a hug. Just as quickly, he pulled back. Instead of the rants that usually flowed from the boy when he was emotionally rattled, Ahmed composed himself and said, “Allah is merciful. He brought you back to us at a time when we need you most.”
“Sorry it took so long,” Jake said. He was taken aback by the maturity of the boy. There was a hardness to him that hadn’t existed when Jake last saw him, and Jake could only wonder at the magnitude of the stress Ahmed and the rest of them had been under in the past few days.
Lacey and Marshall poured onto the porch. Lacey threw her arms around him, and Marshall settled for a high five.
“It’s you. It’s really you,” Lacey said.
Marshall couldn’t stop shaking his head. “I can’t friggin’ believe you did it to us again. Made us all think you were dead.” He leaned forward to study Jake’s face, first one side, then the other. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Well, it hurts to look at it.”
Lacey pulled out of the embrace and elbowed Marshall in the ribs. “Shut up. He’s here. That’s all that matters.” She ushered Jake toward the door, and the others followed him inside.
He was only two steps into the lodge when Sarafina raced across the room and leaped into his arms. She buried her face in his neck and her tears moistened his skin. “Daddy. Thank God you’re alive!”
He hugged her close and felt her chest hitch with sobs. It had been a while since she called him Daddy. It reminded him of a simpler time. “I missed you so much, sweetie.”
“Please don’t leave us again. We need you.”
The words cut deep. He needed them every bit as much as they needed him. He knew that now. He’d thought he’d done the right thing by going to ground, pretending to be dead. For their sake. But he’d been wrong. He was still as willing as ever to sacrifice himself for each and every one of them, but whatever happened, whatever threat they faced going forward, he’d be right at their side.
No matter what.
“I promise,” he said. “I’ll never leave you again.”
“Yes. You. Will,” Francesca said as she stepped from the shadowed recess of the hallway.
Her eyes were red and swollen, her hair disheveled, and her shoulders slumped like a prisoner awaiting the gallows. But there was something else as well. It was as if she’d buried any sense of relief she may have felt at his homecoming—or anger at him for letting her believe he was dead—beneath a far heavier burden.
Dread overcame him.
Sarafina slipped from his embrace, and he walked to his wife and took her hands. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Francesca’s eyes locked onto his, never once twitching due to his disfigurement, as she reached her empathic senses out to him. The depth of her anguish scared Jake.
“It’s Alex,” she said. “He’s missing.”
***
They gathered in the sitting area, taking turns filling Jake in on what had happened since they split up in China, and his mind reeled at the enormity of it all. Especially the news about Alex’s health.
He sat next to Francesca on the couch. “He’s really dying?” he asked, taking her hand. Her gaze moved downward at the rough scars covering his palm and fingers. She didn’t release her grip.
Her eyes moistened. “That’s what the doctor said.”
“And you believe the advanced aging was triggered by the grid?”
“What else could it be?” Marshall asked. He sat backward in the chair at his computer table, his hands draped over the back. “The doctor said it had to have been triggered by some external force.”
Jake knew his friend was right. The connection to the pyramids had done things to him as well. Why not Alex? “But why would Alex run away because he overheard all this?”
Francesca pulled her hand from his. “Because of you,” she said pointedly.
“What are you talking about?”
Tony, plopped in a lounge chair, jumped in. “We think he overheard a lot more than our conversation about his health. Doc had just gotten word that the government was interested in him.”
“More than just interested,” Marshall said. “They want Alex badly because of the secrets he harbors in his head regarding Passcode.”
“But Passcode was obliterated in China,” Jake said. “I destroyed the last existing file when I crashed into that helicopter.” He rubbed the regenerated skin on his face. “Trust me, it was burned to a crisp.”
“Sure,” Marshall said, “but it isn’t specifically Passcode that the government’s after. It’s Alex’s unique brain they want. Obviously, the kid’s connection with the grid did more than give him a horrible disease. It changed his brain’s architecture in a way that allows him to do what no one else on the planet can do. I spoke with Alex about it. The way he explained it, he didn’t intentionally hack the Passcode firewall. He had no idea it was a front for a subliminal password retrieval system. He was just immersed in the video game. And, like any gamer, he wanted to test ways to get an edge over the other players. But the Spider game was thought controlled. It responded to brain impulses through the headset, and Alex’s supercharged brain went wild in that environment. It simply reached out and explored on its own, busting through firewalls without even knowing it.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Sarafina said. She and Lacey shared a loveseat.
Lacey placed her hand on Sarafina’s arm. “Of course it wasn’t. It was Marshall’s fault for letting him borrow his headset.”
Marshall slumped.
And that’s what put the targets on our backs in the first place, Jake thought. The accidental breach had triggered alarms for the bastards behind it all.
Tony said, “So even though Passcode itself was destroyed, the passwords the damn game retrieved are probably still in Alex’s head.”
“Not to mention the fact the entire fiasco revealed the unique capabilities of Alex’s brain,” Marshall said. “Because with nothing more than a Spider headset and access to the internet, he can probably hack into any system out there.”
“And the US government will stop at nothing to harness that process,” Tony said. “Regardless of the cost to Alex. Because with that tech in their hands, they could change the face of the world.”
Francesca’s nostrils flared. “And when Alex realized that danger surrounded him because he was a target…” She stared at Jake with an intensity that caused the others to avert their gazes. “He did what any proud son would do. He followed the example set by his father, running away from his family so they wouldn’t be placed in harm’s way.”
Jake pushed to his feet and paced the room, his mood darkening with each stride.
***
“Imagine the possibilities,” Jamal said.
Farhad was way ahead of his friend. He could hardly believe what he’d just heard. The power possessed by this child, the spawn of the American devil himself, could change everything. He exchanged a glance with Hadi, and saw from his stunned expression that the seasoned warrior had grasped the enormity of the opportunity.
“We must have that boy,” Farhad whispered to his mentor.
Hadi’s eyes narrowed. Farhad sensed him considering the ramifications of this new twist against their overall mission. Finally Hadi said, “Two watermelons cannot be held in one hand.”
It was an old Afghan proverb. In other words, if one has too many preoccupations, he will succeed at none of them. Farhad had heard that before. Too many times. It was a reflection of the generational gap between him and Hadi. Farhad and his teammates had perfected the art of multitasking, like millions of others in their age group. And while he had a great deal of respect for his mentor, he didn’t always agree with him. In this case, Hadi’s opinion didn’t matter, because like it or not, Farhad will have that boy. In fact, he’d make it Hadi’s priority to get him, which would get the man out of Farhad’s hair for a while.
He returned his focus to the video screen. “Fortunately, we are a team of many hands.”
***
Ahmed studied his father’s reaction to the news of Alex’s disappearance. Ahmed didn’t need his brother’s beautiful brain to know what Jake was thinking. Dad blamed himself for everything that went wrong, as usual. But Ahmed saw past that. Alex strove to emulate their father, so it’s natural to assume that’s why Alex had left when he believed his presence might do harm to the rest of them. That’s exactly what Dad had done by faking his own death.
Trying to be like their father wasn’t a bad thing, Ahmed thought. Just the opposite. Alex wasn’t the only one who idolized Jake. Regardless of what the world believed, Jake was selfless, loving, courageous, and always willing to step up on behalf of others. Not to mention he saved the world.
As for his tendency toward accepting blame, that simply revealed his humility. Ahmed thought back to his childhood teachings, specifically a quote from the Holy Prophet Muhammad: “Indeed, humility increases the dignity of one endowed with it. Be humble, and Allah will exalt you.”
He watched as his father’s face hardened. Ahmed had seen that look before. His father loved his family, and nothing would stand in the way of his finding and protecting its youngest member.
“I’ll find him,” Jake said.
Ahmed didn’t doubt it. Yes, Alex was right to want to follow in his father’s footsteps.
And I’ll do the same.
***
Jake pushed through the doubt clouding his thoughts. His heart had sunk at the news of Alex’s health, and he’d listened from the precipice of despair as his friends explained the reasons behind his son now being a target. Francesca was right to blame him for Alex’s disappearance. The boy’s reaction was learned behavior, taught by an idiot of a father who hadn’t been able to get it through his skull that running away was never the right choice. Well, he knew better now. His family and friends faced the biggest threat of their lives because of him, and he needed to be front and center if they were to have any chance of digging their way out. Alex was dying and had run away to God knows where, and the unusual lure to the jungles of Brazil came laced with foreboding.
They don’t even know about that yet.
Though Jake intended to be honest with them, he decided to save that last detail until later. That didn’t mean he couldn’t tell them about the rest. He stopped pacing and turned to face them. “I saw Alex.”
“Huh?” Marshall asked.
Tony leaned forward in his chair. “Spill it.”
Francesca’s mouth hung open. Jake settled next to her on the couch.
“Our son is okay,” he said. He told them about the vision in the bear cave, of seeing Alex in the tour bus sharing M&Ms with two young girls.
“I knew it!” Sarafina said. “The buses. We saw them on a YouTube video.”
“Maybe I can figure out where they’re from,” Marshall said. He spun around in his chair and keyed up the video.
Hope transformed Francesca’s expression. She offered a weak smile and threw her arms around him, her embrace soothing him. After a moment, she pulled back.
“You have to do it again,” she said.
“Of course,” Lacey chimed in.
“Do what?”
Sarafina said, “Have another vision.”
Jake sat back. His lips parted, but it was Ahmed who voiced the words Jake had been about to speak. “That’s probably much easier said than done.”
“Whad’ya think, pal?” Tony asked. “Can you make it happen?”
Jake had asked himself that question plenty of times. Was it the adrenaline rush of running from the massive bear, or the energy of the mini that had triggered the vision? Or both? He’d been in plenty of dire situations with the mini in his possession in the past several years, and had used up more than his share of adrenaline in the process, but he’d never had a vision until two days ago. No, it wasn’t adrenaline. As for the mini, it had likely played a role but it hadn’t been the trigger. The vision had been initiated by something in the depths of the jungle in Brazil. The question was, could he reopen the connection? Did he dare? He felt a tingle of energy from the mini at the mere thought of it, and a shiver spread across his back.
“I’ll find a way,” he said.
Ahmed rose to his feet. “Let me help.”
“Me, too,” Sarafina said. “I’ve connected with Alex before. I mean, with my thoughts.”
Ahmed huffed. “Yeah, but—”
Jake rose and waved them both off. The thought of exposing either of them directly to the mini’s power was unthinkable. “No, this is something I’ve got to do on my own.”
Francesca stood and took his right hand. She ran her fingers over the discolored and hardened area of his palm and fingers. Then she studied his face as her hand stroked the shiny surface of his healed skin, her senses reaching out to him.
“You’ve been through a lot,” she said softly. “As have we all. But you’re with us again and that makes us stronger.”
Her voice held forgiveness, and suddenly the task before him didn’t seem so bleak.
“Do what you must, husband. Our boy needs us.” She kissed him tenderly on the mouth. He pulled her close and permitted himself a moment of escape into her essence. His tension vanished and the world disappeared. Her touch had always done that to him, ever since that first time on the balcony overlooking the canals of Venice, when he’d thought she was part of a plot to kidnap him. Wonderful memories played across his mind—of laughing, and loving, and caring for each other and their children. And then the mini stirred in his pocket, and reality broke through the veil.
When he pulled back, her eyes were wide. She took a deep breath and slid her hand down to the pocket holding the mini. “I felt it,” she whispered.
That was a first, Jake thought. Besides him and Alex, no one had ever been able to sense the mini’s energy. That Francesca had felt it scared him. He turned to one side and her hand slipped away. She didn’t object.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Tap into it. Like it or not, it’s become a part of you.” She frowned. “A part of us. Embrace it. Use the mini’s power to find our son.”
He nodded, turned on his heels, and walked down the hall.
***
“What is he going to do?” Jamal asked over the comm net.
Good question, Farhad thought. Audio reception from the bug drone was outstanding, and he’d listened to the American’s description of the vision he’d had in the cave.
“And what is this mini the woman mentioned?” Jamal added.
“Quiet,” Farhad ordered, though he wanted to know the answer every bit as much as the others. Jake Bronson was an enigma, and this mini of his was another piece of the puzzle. Farhad glanced at the crisp overhead view of the lodge streaming from Pelican-1’s camera. “Ghazi, we need to track where he’s going in the house.”
“A few of the windows in the back aren’t fully curtained,” Ghazi said. “I can try the bug, but we’ll lose audio from the front room.”
“Do it.” Farhad switched the view on his wrist screen to that of the dragonfly drone. The fuzzy, close-up view of a curtain resolved itself as the drone lifted away from the window to circumnavigate the building. The bug zipped along the sidewall, slowing at each window to peer inside. The curtain on the third window was pulled back, and the bug lingered on a view of an empty bedroom. A hall light flickered on and Bronson walked past the doorway.
“He’s heading toward the back,” Jamal reported.
The drone zipped to the next window, but it was curtained. So was the next. The view through the final window on that side of the structure was clear, however. It was another bedroom, and the picture zoomed on the hallway beyond, capturing the American entering what appeared to be a bathroom and closing the door behind him.
Farhad watched as Ghazi raced the tiny drone up and over the roof to hover in front of the bathroom window.
Allah be praised, he thought. The curtain was cracked open.
The drone alighted on the window screen.