Shaw slid neatly out of the window but then something felt wrong.
“Katie!”
She wasn’t there. He hit dirt hard; a jut of rock nailed him right in the gut. The belt slipped out of his hand and he tumbled down the steep hill. He looked in front of him and watched as the car gained more and more speed. His momentum caused him to flip over and land hard on his back. When he managed to sit back up he saw the car slam into the trees at the bottom. A second later an explosion ripped the air as the gas tank ignited.
Shaw grabbed on to everything he could get hold of, bushes, branches, dirt, and rock to stop his slide. If he went another twenty feet, there was no stopping and he would end up in the inferno down there too. He finally slammed against an old stump.
“Katie!” he yelled. “Katie!”
She didn’t answer him.
CHAPTER 91
THE PHONE CALL WOKE FRANK from a sound sleep.
It was the FBI agent they’d been working with.
Frank sat up, already groping around for his clothes that he’d dropped on the end of the bed when he’d turned in. “What’s up?”
“One of the people on the St. Albans list, Richard Pender, was just found murdered in his home.”
Frank’s feet hit the floor. He pinched the phone against his ear with his shoulder while he hopped into his pants. “Sonofabitch!”
“And that’s not all.”
“Yeah?” Frank said warily.
“A neighbor of Pender’s phoned the police; that’s how they discovered the body.”
“Why’d they phone? Did they see something? Pender’s killer?”
“He saw what looked to be two people being carried out of the house and put into a car.”
“Two people! Could they ID them?”
“It was dark. He couldn’t be sure. But the man was big. It took three guys to carry him. And the other appeared to be a woman.”
“Did they see anything else?”
“He got the license plate of the car they were put in.”
“And?” Frank slid into his shirt and tucked it into his pants and then slipped on his socks. “Oh shit, don’t tell me.”
“We traced the plate. It was James’s rental car.”
Frank stuck his feet in his shoes and roared, “What the hell were they doing there? We hadn’t gotten a search warrant yet.”
“Looks like they were doing a little independent snooping.”
“Have the police tracked the car down yet?”
“No. They put out an APB, but nothing yet.”
“Has anyone tried to call Shaw or Katie?”
“Yes. No answer. We sent people to their rooms. Nothing.”
“When did the neighbor phone this in?”
“About two hours ago.”
“Christ! They could be already dead. They probably are already dead. What’s the take on Pender? When did they pop him?”
“Twenty hours ago or more, according to the prelim.”
“Shit, that trail’s cold. Wait a minute, if they killed Pender that long ago, what the hell were they doing watching his house?”
“Waiting for someone to come by?”
“You mean waiting for Shaw and Katie to come by. Just like the funeral in Wisbach. What the hell were they thinking going there?”
“The officers on the scene at Pender’s home said it looked like a burglary gone bad.”
“Burglary my ass. So what’s the story on this Pender? Who is he?”
“He owns a firm called Pender amp; Associates based in northern Virginia. The picture isn’t completely clear, but it seems to be some sort of PR firm.”
Frank called Royce, filled him in, and arranged to meet the MI5 agent in the lobby in five minutes. He grabbed his gun, ripped open the door, and ran down the hall, pulling out his cell phone and punching in a number as he jogged along.
“Shaw and James are in serious trouble. Track him. Now!”
Frank hooked up with Royce in the lobby and the two agents raced to their car.
As they drove off Frank called the FBI agent.
“I want a strike team to hit Pender amp; Associates right now.”
“We don’t have the search warrants yet.”
Frank yelled, “What are the odds of a guy on our list getting popped and Shaw and James getting snatched from the guy’s house not being tied into this whole damn conspiracy?”
“About a billion to one,” the agent admitted.
“So screw the warrants. Nail Pender amp; Associates. Now!”
Yet Frank’s gut was telling him it was already too late. For Pender amp; Associates.
And too late for Shaw and Katie.
CHAPTER 92
SHAW SLOWLY ROSE FROM THE MUD and brush and steadied himself against a leaning, shallow-rooted pine. He stared down at the wreckage of the car; the flames started to burn down as the gas was used up. He had stopped yelling for Katie because he’d grown hoarse. He made his way down the hill, holding on to whatever he could. As he neared the burning car, he didn’t want to even think about what was inside it. The charred fragments of Katie James.
The small groan caught him so off guard he nearly toppled forward and down into the flames. He whirled around, staring into the darkness to his left.
“Katie?” He was almost afraid to say the name for fear of hearing nothing back.
There was definite movement now. And it was too big for a rabbit or squirrel. He lunged forward, tripped, fell down, picked himself up, and raced to her side.
Katie was lying facedown next to an oak but struggling to rise. Shaw knelt beside her, gently turned her over.
“Damn, I thought you were dead.”
Her face was bloody, her arm bent at an odd angle. She looked up at him, smiled weakly, but then grimaced in pain.
“So I’m not dead?”
He shook his head. “Not unless I am too. And I’m hurting too much to be anything except alive. Can you walk?”
With his help Katie got to her feet, holding her right forearm. “Think I might have busted my arm up.”
He looked at it. Part of her bone was sticking out through the skin.
“Shit!” he exclaimed. “We need to get you to a hospital.” He took off his jacket and fashioned a crude sling to keep the shattered bone as immobile as possible.
“Can you walk?”
She nodded. “If you can help me.”
He put a big hand under her armpit and his other arm around her waist, and they slowly made their way up.
“What happened? You were holding on to me and then you were gone.”
“Lost my grip and then I got snagged on the door handle.”
“How did you get out of the car, then?”
“Pure luck. On the way down, the car hit something, probably another chunk of rock. The door popped open and I fell out.” She looked back at the blackened mass of burned-out metal.
“A little close,” she said.
“A little.”
“Shaw, I think I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
He held her while she emptied her stomach.
“Sorry,” she said with an embarrassed look after she’d finished.
“Compound fractures always make me puke too,” he said, attempting a smile.
As they neared the top they heard cars screeching to a stop on the road above and then running feet started coming their way.
“Get down, Katie.”
“Shaw, Shaw, you down there?”
It was Frank.
“We both are,” he called back. “And we need some help. Katie’s arm is broken.”
Five minutes later they were being driven off in an SUV. Frank and Royce rode with them.
“Pender’s dead, but you already knew that because you went to his house tonight,” Frank said accusingly.
“Can you wait at least until tomorrow until you jump all over my ass, Frank?” Shaw said.
“Why? It won’t be any better
tomorrow. Only worse.”
Royce said, “Do you know who kidnapped you?”
“Never saw them. Whoever it was hit us fast and hard.” He looked over at Katie. “She needs to get to a hospital.”
“That’s where we’re headed,” Frank said. “I already made the call.”
“How did you know where Shaw and Katie were?” Royce asked.
Frank glanced at Shaw before answering. “Lucky guess.”
Before Royce could say anything Frank’s phone buzzed. He listened for about five minutes without saying anything other than curse words. He clicked off and tossed his phone on the floor.
“I take it that it’s not good news,” Royce said.
“They hit Pender amp; Associates.”
“And?” Shaw said.
“And they got squat. Place was cleaned out.”
“There has to be employees they can talk to.”
“Oh sure. But after what happened to Pender, I doubt many of them will be real excited about talking.”
Royce said, “But they have to interrogate them.”
“They will, only don’t hold your breath.”
“I doubt anyone other than Pender knows the name of the third party,” said Shaw.
“How do you reckon that?” Royce asked.
“Because he’s dead,” Shaw said bluntly. “What’d you find out about Pender amp; Associates?”
“FBI did a quick and dirty on them,” said Frank. “They’re sort of a specialized PR firm.”
“No, they’re a lot more than that. They’re a PM firm,” Katie suddenly exclaimed. “That’s where I knew the name.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What the hell is a PM firm?” Frank exclaimed.
“That’s what we call our prime minister,” Royce added helpfully.
Katie said, “Well, this PM stands for perception management. It’s the way to manufacture the truth, on a large scale. The Department of Defense has it more precisely defined in some manual or other. The military really got into PM in a big way after the Vietnam War. There are a number of firms around the world that specialize in it. I did a story years ago on the subject. Or at least tried to do a story. A few people were speculating that PM firms were behind some of what happened in Persian Gulfs One and Two. WMDs, embedded reporters buying the company line, stuff like that. They have all sorts of methods and devices to do it. The best PM firms have taken it to a high art.”
Frank snapped, “So if they specialize in this crap why didn’t anyone suspect them of being behind the damn Red Menace?”
“Most people, including a lot of government leaders, have no idea they even exist. And like I said, I tried to do a story on them, but got nowhere. There’s not much information on them. They keep a low profile and don’t talk in public about what they do. The firms I did manage to ferret out, including Pender amp; Associates, wouldn’t talk to me. All shrouded in secrecy.”
“And besides, the Russians are an easy ‘bad guy’ target,” Shaw noted. “They’re like North Korea. People will believe anything bad about them, and usually with good reason.”
“Which is undoubtedly why they were selected,” added Royce.
Katie said slowly, “So Pender amp; Associates might have also been hired to make the Chinese appear to be behind the Red Menace.”
“You mean they killed twenty-eight people in London and blamed that on the Russians,” Shaw added fiercely.
“But that’s crazy. Why would anyone do that?” Frank said.
“Russia and China are just about to go to war. The rest of the world is rearming,” Katie said.
“Okay, but who would want that?”
Shaw said, “Countries are all of a sudden spending hundreds of billions on weapons. And that money’s going somewhere.”
Frank scowled at him. “What, you’re saying defense contractors are behind this? I really doubt Northrop Grumman, Ares Corp, or Lockheed are involved in this crap. They have boards of directors and shareholders and all that. There’s no way they could keep that secret. And from what I can tell, they’re all making plenty of bucks anyway.”
“And really, Shaw, British Aerospace is doing quite nicely without resorting to inspiring possible Armageddon,” Royce added.
“Maybe it’s not about money,” said Shaw.
“What else do big companies care about?” Frank countered.
Shaw sat back and closed his eyes.
“Shaw? Shaw, you better damn well answer me if you’ve got an idea about this.”
But despite Frank’s blistering broadsides as they drove along, Shaw did not break his silence.
At the hospital Katie was taken into surgery. Her broken bone was put back in her arm and reset and her forearm was placed in a cast. She stayed in the hospital overnight with Shaw sleeping next to her bed. When they got back to the hotel the next day she went with Shaw to his room. Katie sat on the bed with a pillow propped under her injured arm while Shaw made an impromptu snack for them from the contents of the minibar. Katie rubbed her cast. She was on pain meds but her arm still throbbed, and her entire body ached from her wild ride in the car down that slope.
As she munched on some organic chips and drank a diet soda Katie said, “Okay, Frank’s not here. Do you know why Pender would be pitting Russia and China against each other if not to make some fat defense contractors even richer?”
Shaw sat down in a chair and chewed on some nuts. “Think about what’s really been happening.”
She scowled at him. “Death, destruction, war? The plague? Or did I miss something?”
“Anna said something to me when she first started looking into the Red Menace.”
“What was it?”
“She said it reminded her of something. Of attempts to create a new world order, or at least an old new world order, if that makes sense. The Russians wipe out a big part of the Taliban with one strike and tell the other Arab countries to back off or risk annihilation. Now the Middle East is going to hell and nobody cares because everyone’s focused on Russia and China going toe to toe. And now the major countries are rearming for what looks to be a long-term standoff.” He looked up at her. “Déjà vu.”
“So you’re saying whoever’s behind this wants us to go back to what, the cold war?”
“By all accounts Russia and China scared the crap out of each other. They won’t attack again. Just go into a long rearmament phase, along with all the other major powers; a mutual standoff. And now that Russia used cruise missiles against Afghanistan and got away with it, you think other countries might not try that tactic against some of the other unruly nations, Muslim or otherwise?”
“You mean big boys exerting their muscle again? Like Russia and the