CHAPTER Five

 

 

Nestled in the forest, the cabin was like a candle, the flickering fire from inside casting wraithlike waves across the snow. Nate emerged from the trees and noticed that his earlier footsteps were now distorted under the falling snow. As he mounted the stairs to the deck, he kicked the tips of his Timberlands against the wood rim and noted that no foreign tracks had joined his earlier trail.

He yanked on the sliding door.

All the lamps were off and the shimmering flames cast a blush over the vaulted room. Emily sat on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, watching him.

The sight paralyzed him. In the wake of the fire her hair shined molten, and the heavy shadows only made her almond gaze more mysterious. With her head up and her willowy arm draped across the top of the sofa, she appeared regal.

A beautiful woman before a fireplace, inside a romantic cabin tucked away from the rest of the world. Even his most ardent of dreams could not have conjured this intimate a tableau. Even his strongest fantasies would have never done her justice. But it was all a blasted farce.

Blowing into his curled fist, Nate uttered huskily, “Where is he?”

Emily tilted her head and glanced up the stairs towards the shadowed loft. He followed that trek. His eyebrows knitted and he rubbed his ribs before starting up the stairs.

At the top it took a moment to acclimate with the dark. He approached a door that was ajar and cautiously brushed the panel open. It was a bathroom, with a hint of citrus effervescing from the shower.

Jerking away from that scent, Nate moved to the next doorway, and inside used a dresser for leverage to feel his way deeper into the shadows. A dull thud marked the contact between the base of a double bed and his knee. A tiny lick of light from the fire reached the edge of the mattress to reveal a socked foot.

Colin lay face down across the quilt, his faint snores muffled by the pillow. Nate was tempted to jar him awake with his sore kneecap. Here this man slept like a baby while his wife sat downstairs, so beautiful and noble, contemplating her fate.

At the mere thought of Emily, Colin Brennan was already forgotten. Nate approached the balustrade. He stood rooted at the top of the stairs, and felt like a voyeur, gazing down at the pensive figure below. She had not moved. Her gaze was locked on the fire, its dancing flames casting animated shadows across her face. Shadows that revealed fear and angst.

Did he speak her name out loud?

He didn’t know if he had, but Emily glanced up.

***

With each step that the man descended, Emily’s heart accelerated. Where was the genial stranger—the man who had laughed with her in those early morning hours? This figure descending from the shadows was as mystifying and dangerous as a wolf. His black hair glistened from fresh snow and his eyes which she thought had been flecked with gold were actually much deeper and complex, obscuring the path to his soul. His tall frame filled the stairwell, and though he moved with the faintest of limps, every sinuous motion suggested the power of one of nature’s beasts.

Emily was frightened. Her soaring heart rate was not so much from fear, but rather a heightened awareness. A man was approaching. A virile man. An intelligent man. A man who had temporarily made her troubled world disappear.

“Is he asleep?” she whispered.

A frown altered the trek of the healing slash. “Yeah.”

Lowering her socked foot to the carpet, Emily awaited his next move. To her relief he sank onto the far corner of the couch, one elbow coming to rest on his knee as he immersed his hand in his hair, revealing his fatigue. Only for a moment did he show this sign of weakness, and then his hand dropped to let those untamed eyes condemn her.

“What about you?” His voice was brusque.

She tried to shrug. “Not tired I guess.”

“Worrying about what’s going to happen to you?”

“Worrying about what’s going to happen to him.”

Nate stretched his legs out, letting his head drop back against the cushion. Methodically he rubbed at a pain near his temple and closed his eyes. “Emily the angel—always looking out for everyone else.”

Emily was about to offer him an aspirin, but rescinded. “Look, let’s just get this out and over with right now. I didn’t know who you were. I thought you were seriously hurt—I couldn’t just leave you—”

“All night?”

Dammit. “Okay, okay. What do you want to hear? That I couldn’t leave you till I knew you were okay? That when I was with you I felt irrationally safe. Do you want to hear that I was attracted to you?” Her throat made a strangled sound. “None of it matters now, so let’s put it behind us.”

It didn’t appear that her declaration did anything for his temperament. If anything, his expression turned darker.

“So you abandoned him,” Nate hitched his thumb towards the stairs, “for a night with me?”

“I didn’t abandon him.” Her voice rose, and Emily quickly cleared her throat. “Colin was waiting for me, but he was safe. If there was anybody NMD was after at that moment, it was me.” Her smile was bitter. “That much was evident.”

“Wasn’t he concerned? Was that who you were talking to on your cell?”

“Yes.”

“Mmmmm.”

It was hard to return his penetrating stare. Emily sought the withering flames as a diversion. If he was going to arrest her, go ahead and do it, but stop the torment of that reproachful gaze.

“What happens now?”

The smoldering embers glowed in his eyes. “Not for me to decide. I bring you back, that’s all.”

“But,”

“Emily, please don’t.”

It was the first time he said her name since he located her in the woods. It surprised her to hear a tinge of pain accompanying the word. If she thought that tone offered hope, all she had to do was look at the resolved set of his jaw to know that wouldn’t be the case.

“What’s with the revolutionary politician over there next to you?” Nate nudged his head towards the empty cushion at the juncture of the L-shaped couch.

Emily glanced desolately beside her and felt the muscles in her throat begin to restrict.

Not now. Hold it together. Just hold it together.

“You wouldn’t understand. Colin has a hard time relating with people.” Her head came up and her eyes narrowed. “There’s nothing wrong with him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I wasn’t implying anything,” Nate cupped the side of his rib cage and kneaded the muscles. “I’m curious. Really curious. Why did you do this? You didn’t have to involve yourself. From what I saw of your records, you were a stellar engineer—quiet, got your projects done on time, regular bonuses—why ruin that?”

Emily surged to her feet. With her fingers crammed in the pockets of her jeans she paced before the fire. Ultimately, she turned her back to the heat, folded her arms and poised before him.

“There is more to me than a bunch of words jotted down on a report. And do you honestly think I care about the judgment of a company that is willing to resort to murder to repress an engineer’s knowledge.”

“Whoa,” Nate rose now too, though he required the arm of the sofa for assistance. “You dropped that allegation before. This time I want you to back it up.”

“You want it in black and white, Nate? Colin designed a machine that NMD with their multifaceted staff could never imagine. Except Colin’s design was an outline to pass time—something to scribble. Doodling soothes him. It’s stimulation. It was not a project. My God, it’s not something that will take the abuse NMD intends to subject it to. He told them that.”

Emily swiped a hand beneath her hair in hopes the cool draft that filtered through the aging timbers would reach her flushed neck. “And they didn’t believe him. They thought he was holding out. When they demanded his CAD drawings, Colin started—he—” Futilely she glanced towards the plush couch.

“He started talking to Ben?” Nate offered quietly.

“Yes.” She challenged.

He took a step forward, but the motion was so subtle Emily never noticed it. “Go on,” he prompted.

Deflated, she proceeded in a lifeless voice. “It got out of hand. They thought he was making a mockery of them. I was called in. They grilled me, and I told them the design was not real. For a savant, it was the equivalent of a kid finger-painting.” Her head dropped back to stare at the ceiling in desperation, “albeit a brilliant kid, and the finger-painting was the likes of a concept NASA had already entertained but ultimately scrapped because they couldn’t get it to work.”

Realizing she was thinking out loud, Emily jerked back to reality and moved away from the eyes that haunted her since the moment they flew open on Highway 1. She took up position by the floor-length windows and leaned her forehead against the cool pane to watch the steady snowfall under the porch light. In the wake of that fluorescence she could study each flake, the uniqueness in design—the complexity of shape.

In a world full of brilliant engineers, no one could blueprint anything as fascinating and intricate as a snowflake.

“I got Colin out of that inquisition. Four hours later, the brakes failed on his Volkswagen and he skidded into a field. Safe, thank God.”

If she lost him. Her parents loss had nearly broken her, but if she lost Colin too—

***

The fire faded to a dull glow, and the only light in the room was filtered from the outside bulb. Nate felt tension in his chest again, but he couldn’t draw his eyes away from her. Emily’s fingertip traced the glass, trailing the unpredictable path of a slow-moving flake. Her feminine silhouette seemed harmonious with the forest, a lithe creature that at any moment would bolt into the trees and leave him.

“Tell me why I should believe that?” he asked quietly. “If something like that happened, it could have been a fluke. That Volkswagen is a relic.”

There was no point in letting her know that Barcuda was indeed capable of such fanaticism, and his henchmen had procured information in the past with no less tact. It was that contention that kept Nate and Barcuda at opposite ends of every project, but both were the best at what they did.

“I told you already,” she said, still facing away. “You have no reason to believe me. And frankly, I don’t really care about your opinion. But whatever comes of this—wherever you take us—the truth will come out. I will make sure of that.”

There was a tense conviction to her posture, with her legs firmly planted, her palms flat on the glass in support, or as a springboard to leap. But in the reflection of the window it was her eyes that betrayed her. Panic pooled in those wells.

“Emily,” he whispered, “You are more than a bunch of words on a report.”

She turned around.

Above, something shifted. The sound was innocent enough to pass for the wind, or the roof groaning against the strain of ice and snow. Nate listened for a repeat, but now all that could be heard was a persistent limb tickling the kitchen window. In his periphery he could see its warped black claw tapping, tapping, seeking a way into the cozy cabin.

“Nate?”

“Stay right here,” he ordered.

At the base of the stairs Nate hesitated and searched the impenetrable shadows. The waning fire was no longer a benefit. With a stealth that was nearly undermined by his throbbing ankle, he mounted the steps, and was halfway up when it reached him.

A spike of cold air. A wayward underscore to escape. He knew before he reached the top what to expect. Instinct still made him reach behind his back for the gun.

At the bathroom door, a mist of fine snow sprinkled his face, a cold slap of reality a second before he threw the switch and saw the open window. Annoyed that he had let Emily be such a distraction, Nate gripped the frosted frame and searched the immediate area below. The ground was clear for a few feet until the impenetrable darkness of the forest swallowed the view. Damn. Turning back to the bedroom, the sweep of the bathroom light revealed the vacant bed.

Nate wrenched a hand through his hair and cursed the day he left the Navy.

Feeling suddenly much older, he started back downstairs, but was drawn up by the woman standing at the bottom. If Emily had posed as a distraction—if she was part of Colin Brennan’s plan to escape, it was impossible to tell that from the look on her face. Her hand clutched the winding knob of the balustrade, knuckles white from the ferocity of her grip. Haunted eyes looked up at him, a dark combination of dread and conclusion. She knew. She knew that Colin was gone, but Nate was certain the knowledge came as a shock.

“No.” She shook her head, tossing away what he was about to say.

“He’s gone.”

“No.” Emily started up one step, her eyes searching his.

She shifted past them, looking to the top of the steps as she called, “Colin?” But it was a hoarse sound that barely reached past Nate.

“He’s gone,” he repeated.

“No.” This time she charged past him, her elbow clipping his chest. The pain nearly made him double over, but he reached to catch her in passing. Her slim frame eluded his grip. Relying on the rail, he clasped his injured side and started up after her.

***

Emily saw the bed, pivoted, and felt the sting of cold air. Tunnel vision channeled her towards the bathroom window, though it seemed such a great distance away−a sinister pinpoint that her legs refused to approach. This small, black rectangle was like a portal to an afterlife she wanted no part of. But approach it, she did, and the vicious surge of icy wind froze her tears long before they could form.

“Oh Colin, what have you done?” She rested her forehead against the wooden frame and prayed for a revelation.

“Emily?”

She rounded on him. This man was the reason her brother was gone. Till this NMD goon arrived at their cabin there had been a chance for them. She knew she was fooling herself—that there was little likelihood of escape, but she had hoped for time. Time to contact a lawyer. Time to safely store the data.

Nate Morrison’s arrival meant time had run out.

“You did this.” Emily hissed with her back against the wall.

There was the fleeting thought to scramble through the window, but he was only a few steps away, a distance he could swallow quickly if he wanted to.

Even as she watched him approach, cool, assured, tired—no, forget the last one. There was no sympathy left in her. As a matter of fact, taking in his dark features, she convinced herself that he began to look threatening. The big bad wolf analogy returned with a vengeance.

“I’m going after him.”

“Of course you are,” she hissed.

“And you’re coming with me.”

Not a chance. She had to stay here. What if Colin realized the mistake he made? What if he returned? “I have to stay—what if he comes back?”

Nate did something that startled her. He offered his hand. “I’m not going to risk losing both of you.”

Emily’s gaze dropped to that offering and was jolted by recognition. She remembered how that coarse palm caressed hers when they shook hands in the hospital. Calluses felt like armor, but tickled her skin.

With a vicious wrench she drew her hand back. The bathroom had become so chilly her jaw shuddered and her fingertips felt like someone was jabbing them with a thousand needles. Anguished, she swung around and yanked down the sash.

When she turned back to meet Nate’s eyes, for a second she swore there was compassion there−but if there had been, it disappeared as he approached.

“Come on.” His hand was on her arm.

“Are you forcibly dragging me out of here?”

He made an exasperated grunt. “If I have to, you know I will. I think you’re a little too classy for that though.”

A fresh pelt of ice battered the glass as the wind kicked up. Outside, its lamenting howl warned that the storm was intensifying. That wind whisked away her bravado.

“We have to find him.” Her shoulders sagged. “Colin could—anything could happen out there.”

Nate watched her for a long time until she started to feel defeat creep into her veins.

“Get your coat,” he ordered. “A hat and gloves too. We’re going to need it.”

***

Head tucked into the wind, the hat gone, plucked away by a spiked branch, Emily listened to the shrill sound of the storm worming into her numb ears. Beside her, Nate plodded methodically through the roadside drifts of snow. With effort she lifted her gloved hand and pointed towards a maelstrom of swaying pine limbs, trying to see past their animated arms. His head dipped to shout into her ear.

“It’s gone.”

She could see that now and was temporarily infused with the warm relief.

The Volkswagen was gone.

Colin had managed to start it up and make it out of here. As quick as relief warmed her, anxiety attacked with cold, precise fingers. Lodging her hands deep into sheepskin pockets, Emily followed the fresh tire tracks until a swirl of snow obscured the trail.

“How’d he do it?” Nate stooped and used his hand to rake snow away from a tree trunk. He stood and extended an item for her inspection. “I tore the distributor cap off.”

Emily smiled and felt the muscles in her cheeks grow rigid from the cold. “Colin is inventive.”

“I gathered. A lot of good that’s done him so far.” Tossing the metal piece back into the snow where it quickly sunk out of sight, Nate reached for her elbow. “Okay, are you ready?”

“For what?” She slipped and grabbed a tree for support.

He glanced down the rutted trail and shook his head. “We’re going after him, of course.”

“You have no idea where to look. Heck he’s halfway to Albany by now.” She hoped.

“And your plan would be to stand here yapping and afford him more of a lead?”

If the situation weren’t so dire Emily might have found humor in that. “I just think that it’s awfully late. The storm is kicking up—and you look—you look—”

“Yeah,” Nate’s head crooked and his lips thinned. “I look like shit. I know it. I’ve gotten over it. Now move— ” A shiver stalled his speech “—we need to get in the car.”

Another bout of déjà vu crippled Emily as she saw the black Jeep parked at a slant beneath a drooping evergreen tree. Its front fender bore a large indentation and deep scratches revealed slices of silver in the shiny black façade. Nate opened the door, and her tortured mind rehashed the image of his body sprawled out of it.

“Get in, it’s freezing out here.”

The spacious interior provided refuge from the wind, but the temperature was well below zero, and her teeth were chattering again. Nate rounded the vehicle and tucked his long body behind the steering wheel. He revved the engine on the first try, and swept the lever for the heat as far as it could go. With the dash blowing cold air in her face, Emily turned to glance at her captor. His jaw was tense, a muscle throbbing down the side. Dark hair glistened black, with sparkles of ice woven in the thick mix. His eyes were riveted on the rearview mirror as he shifted the Jeep into reverse, narrowly missing a lifeless oak.

At that second his gaze dropped to hers.

***

In the light of the dash, Nate saw Emily watching him. She looked at him as if he were the Devil. Humph, just a day ago she didn’t think he was so bad. As a matter of fact she seemed—ah, hell, it wasn’t worth rehashing. She was a married woman. A thief. And, more importantly, an assignment.

One that he wanted over as soon as possible.

Nate jerked the Jeep into drive, and slammed his foot on the gas. For a moment the fat tires whirred in place and then with a surge, dug in and the vehicle jerked forward.

“Well, you know the man. Where do you think he would go?”

The rush of snow assaulting the windshield was riveting. Windshield wipers helped to keep it from accumulating, but nothing could penetrate the relentless attack, like a swarm of white moths, reproducing by the second.

“Remind me of my motivation for sharing that with you.”

“Your motivation,” Nate bristled, “is that if you don’t tell me, we circle around for hours. Then my charming disposition will quickly go to hell, and you’ll wish you had just come out with what you knew in the first place and spared us all this bull—”

“Was that a threat?”

“No. A premonition.”

Emily gripped the seatbelt as the back tires skidded, and the vehicle’s rear end veered into a bank of snow. Skillfully Nate maneuvered the Jeep back onto the trail.

“If you’re such a hot commodity for NMD, what do you need me for?”

Nate skewed a look at her. “I don’t need you. But you’re here. You’re also a felon, and I’m not letting you out of my sight, so you might as well make yourself useful.”

“You weren’t this obnoxious in the hospital, you know.”

“Yeah, well you came across different yourself.”

Silenced by mutually fractious thoughts, Emily jolted when Nate’s cell phone rang.

“Morrison,” he barked into the device.

“Hey, where are you?” Phil’s voice was distorted.

“I’m in hell, how about you?”

“Yeah, flames are licking my feet too.” Phil paused, and Nate thought he lost him. “Listen, something is not right—I mean with this Brennan engineer. Something ain’t right. God, Nate, I just heard Barcuda’s cronies. Their orders are to get the designs at any cost. Any cost, Nate. Any cost. Man, that ain’t what I signed up for. I’m a friggin security supervisor. I’m supposed to check the perimeter for suspicious looking dudes, and then pick up the phone and call the cops.”

Phil’s synopsis of his role was severely understated, but Nate knew the point he was trying to convey. Nate sliced another glance at his passenger hoping she had not heard the exchange. Emily watched him, but her expression was blank. He swapped the cell to his other ear and pressed it tight against the pain in his temple.

“Why?”

“Hell, I don’t know. So the kid stole some designs. It’s happened before—people have lost things here before—never was there this lynch mob reaction though. It just doesn’t fit. And—” static again, “I have this real bad feeling, man. You know Barcuda has always had it out for you. I think this time he’s just using you to find the kid. I think he’s setting you up.”

“I failed,” Nate injected. “Is that what he’s saying? I failed on the initial chase and he’ll use that to sever my job when this is all over. Do you really think I give a crap about that?”

“Let’s just hope it’s only that,” Phil paused. “I don’t trust him…you know what I’m saying?”

The question was a heavy one, and Nate recognized the tight, anxious pitch to his friend’s voice. There was more to this story, but now was not the time to find out. Not with Emily sitting next to him. “Yeah, I hear you. Look, what are you doing in the plant at this hour? The sun’s about to rise.”

Right now Nate imagined his friend fiddling with the Tasmanian Devil bobble-head doll on his desk, another effect of duress.

“I was leaving. It was around midnight when I heard them talking. I mean, I still don’t get it. I tried to follow and ended up running into the man himself. He’s like—he has that nasally get the f out of my face voice, and says ‘Pulkowski, putting in extra hours are you?’ Only I could read his face. He was pissed. I mean pissed to the point I was almost afraid that pack of wolves was going to turn on me.”

Nate’s empty stomach twisted. “Easy buddy, just go home, okay. I’ll call in later.”

“Nate, they’re tracing your car.”

“Tracing my car?” Damn. Emily’s head snapped, and her eyes flared. “Barcuda called before,” Nate continued. “He had no clue where I was.”

“Nothing is as it appears with this one, my friend. Stay edgy.”

Stay edgy. That was their sign-off every night when they left NMD.

The connection ended, and the Jeep climbed back onto the main road. Headlights trailed them, but it was six o’clock—local commerce was starting up, and their presence could be innocent. Still, Nate’s gaze remained fixed on the rearview mirror.

“How much time do we have?”

“Huh?” His head snapped down.

“If they’re following this car, how much of a lead do we have?”

“They’re not following us, okay?”

Emily worriedly toyed with the collar of her jacket. “Yes they are,” she whispered.

Nate startled her by veering the Jeep off the road and into the parking lot of a strip mall.

“What are you doing?”

He pulled in front of a convenience store and cut the engine. Aggravated, he rubbed at his eyes, noticing that his vision was blurry afterwards.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been up for twenty-six hours and I need to be sharp right now, and I’m not going to be unless I get a cup of coffee in me. Besides, I have to think for a minute, and I need you to tell me more than you already have.”

Emily crossed her arms. “I’ve told you all that I know.”

“That’s bull.”

She shrugged. “Fine, what’s the difference to me whether it’s you that brings me in, or whoever else is on the way?” Grabbing the handle, she looked over her shoulder. “Either way I’m screwed.”

Based on Phil’s phone call, Nate felt there was a big difference, but he didn’t want to share that fact.

“Coffee shop’s down there.” Emily craned her head to see the small snack shop at the far end of the shopping center.

“Yeah, so do you mind the walk?”

She smiled at him over the hood of the Jeep, but the gesture never reached her eyes. “If they find the Jeep, it’ll take them a few minutes to discover that we’re in the snack shop and not the drug store.”

Nate slammed the door shut and rounded the vehicle to grab her elbow. “You think too much,” he growled.

Under the overhang of the roof, the sidewalk had been spared the recent snowfall. Just now a pickup truck with snow gear mounted to its grill began attacking the parking lot. When its heavy shovel hit the blacktop with a loud bang, Emily jumped. Nate reached to steady her, but the gesture only provoked her more as she shrugged off his touch.

“Don’t try for chivalry—it’s too late for that.”

He reached past her for the coffee shop door, listening to the chime of the bells above and bent down to whisper in her ear. “And don’t go getting all self-righteous, Emily. It’s way too late for that.”

Seated in a booth with his back to the front window, Nate could monitor his Jeep with a discreet glimpse over his shoulder and a glimpse in the mirrored wall at the far end of the diner. Outside, the snow-covered parking lot was beginning to blush with sunrise and the crowd had increased as two cars swung in off the road. He glanced edgily from Emily’s face to the front door and back again.

“You are jumpy,” Emily gulped. “That makes me even more nervous.”

“I’m tired, I’m sore, and I’m cranky.”

“Bitchy.”

“Look.” He nodded as the elderly waitress handed him a steaming mug of coffee and walked back up the aisle with the gait of a sloth. “I need the truth here. Do you think for just a few moments you can manage that?” He took a sip of the scalding liquid and ignored her increasing scowl. “As it stands right now, I am a better option than the guys on their way, so whatever you have to say, make it convincing or else I’ll turn you right over to them.”

Emily regarded him coolly. “I fail to see the difference. You all work for NMD.”

Barcuda’s cronies represented the NMD security task force. The fact that Nate was Chief of Security and Phil the Security Supervisor bore no impact on the men reporting directly to Barcuda. These men were ex-cops, ex-marines—all released from their positions for various disciplinary issues.

He knew this because he had delved into the past of each. Only Barcuda’s clout in the company allowed him to be surrounded with such a disreputable staff. But for the tasks that Barcuda demanded of them, their resume fit the bill. These men were a source of contention between Barcuda and him. Barcuda conceded that he needed Nate’s intelligence background, but he insisted on keeping what Nate referred to as well-paid thugs. NMD was a government funded facility dealing in highly sensitive projects that Homeland Security needed protected at all costs. On paper, it appeared that the facility was sufficiently guarded. The government was appeased. Off the paper, security took on two entirely unique facets at NMD, two facets constantly at odds.

“Tell me more about Colin’s design,” he segued.

***

Emily folded her arms on the Formica table and stared at her coffee. This felt surreal. Conversations drifted to her in hollow echoes. A road-worker in an orange jumpsuit complained about the huge pine that toppled across the roof of the Lucky Clover Motel. The waitress huddling over the next booth whined that her no-good son wouldn’t get up and shovel the driveway. A radio behind the counter blasted Taylor Swift, and before her, Nate stole a brooding look over his shoulder.

“Do you think I’m happy being in this position?”

He turned back towards her and contemplated the question. “No, no I don’t. You strike me as a control addict, and right now this is driving you crazy. Do you think it’s admirable—you taking the heat for him?”

Did she really come across as a control freak? “You’d never understand.”

Nate lifted the mug to his lips. “You’re right.”

What was the point in withholding information anymore? The saga was over and she could only hope that Nate would hold some leniency in his judgment. She cleared her throat and started in.

“He calls it, The Hyperion.”

“Hyperion?”

“Named after one of the twelve Titan gods of ancient Greece. Hyperion was supposedly the first to understand the movement of the sun, the moon, other stars, and the seasons as well.”

That was an official origin of the word, but Emily recalled a time when they were kids and a repeat of the Disney movie, Island at the Top of the World was on. In the movie there was a dirigible named the Hyperion that embarked on an expedition to a mythological land. Colin sat next to their father on the couch with his mouth hanging open the whole time. Shortly after the movie ended he disappeared, only to be heard later in the bathroom with a hairdryer and a hefty bag, building his own blimp. He was four.

“The Hyperion is a craft designed to bore through thick ice with a nose that is a heated drill, so to speak. The design has been made before, even by NASA, but never successfully. When I say bore through ice, we’re talking miles of ice. The Hyperion’s intention was to drill through to Europa’s ocean. Europa is one of Jupiter’s moons. They theorize that Europa’s ocean is full of life, but covered with a surface of ice that could be anywhere from five to fifty miles thick. All efforts in the past have failed because either the craft would be too heavy, or bogged down by too much cabling, or dependent on a surface support ship.” Emily shook her head, still marveling at the design, “but not the Hyperion.”

Nate’s coffee remained untouched. “I am impressed, to say the least, but not surprised. We both know the sophisticated construction that takes place at NMD.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “But they all too often create vessels that are reactive and not proactive. Everything they build is for post-apocalyptic events. War. Armageddon. Vehicles to hide the elite or military when the world goes to hell. Colin’s mind is in the stars and ocean. He wants to learn. If he can’t read about it, then he feels he needs to design something so he can go investigate and learn himself.”

“Colin is tremendously gifted,” Nate observed, looking over her shoulder. The arms resting on either side of his coffee mug tensed. “Crap.” He hissed and leaned back, craning his neck.

“What?”

“We’ve got company.”

Emily’s heart kicked up the pace. She leaned sideways to see past him, but the vehicles parked before the shops were the ones that had been there all morning long.

“How do you know?”

“Minivan. Three guys in sunglasses, black jackets with suspicious bulges under their lapels. Most likely SIG-Sauer automatics—standard issue for Barcuda’s men.”

Emily’s hands began to tremble.

“You can see that much detail from in here?”

“I’ve seen them before.” Nate slammed a ten-dollar bill on the Formica surface and slid from the booth. He jammed his hand out in front of her. “Come on.”

Emily stared at his hand, so strong and battered. “But—”

“Look Em, they’re one door away, do you really want to sit here and argue about this?”

Emily grabbed that hand and felt its strength as he yanked her down the narrow aisle, back towards the restrooms. Just as they reached the shadowed alcove, the jingle of the front door bells sounded. To her, they were not the innocent ring of Christmas chimes−instead they took on a pitch as ominous as a nuclear siren.

Nate tried the knob of the Men’s room, but it was locked. Emily swung towards the Ladies’ room and found it likewise occupied.

“What do we do?” she whispered, peering around a coat rack to see the three figures filing in.

Emily breathed in and tried to flatten herself against the wall as Nate turned towards the only other option, an unmarked door, presumably a utility closet. He didn’t deliberate and yanked the handle, hauling her into obscurity.