Covered in Darkness Read online

  And I silently cursed myself for throwing the GPS tracker in the ice water.

  “Miss Fairfax, there is a hood on the seat beside you. Put it over your head. Now.” The Russian spoke with perfect English, but a thick accent.

  I absolutely hated the pitch black. I reached for the black fabric, rough in texture, and gripped it as I studied the profiles of both men. The Russian had short, spiky hair. He looked to be in his forties and physically fit, though not large. The driver was much larger, but now that the shock of the explosion was wearing off, I wondered if I could have taken him. I wished I had tried. He could have shot me, but my chances were better back there with hundreds of people around than they were now.

  The Russian reached across the seat. Next thing I knew, he was pointing a Glock at my face. “Put the hood over your head.”

  I swallowed, lifted the fabric, and placed it over my head. And I was in absolute darkness.

  Chapter 19

  Declan

  “I don’t care who you are, you’re not going upstairs,” the police officer said firmly.

  Ty put an arm between me and the police officer. “Look,” he said to me. “We already know that there was only one fatality, and that was Blake. Brooke’s fine. Let’s go outside and wait for her.”

  “Listen to your friend, pal,” the officer said.

  I backed away slowly. The cop had a stone-cold expression, and the way he rested his hand on his weapon, he was just threatening enough.

  My phone buzzed with a text from Dimitri: Outside. Now!

  Because Dimitri was never dramatic, I turned immediately toward the front entrance. “Dimitri’s outside. Let’s go.”

  Dimitri was across the street. He didn’t often look stressed, but now he watched his phone with intensity. “Someone took Brooke,” he said.

  My breath caught. “Who? Did you see them?”

  I knew from his face that whoever had just blown Blake Saltzman to pieces now had Brooke. “Calm down,” he said. “She’s headed west on I-64.”

  “How do you know this?” Ty asked. “I thought Brooke destroyed the GPS trace.”

  “Who the hell are you?” said Dimitri.

  I had to give it to Ty—he squared his shoulders and took a step forward. “I am Tyler Jamison. How do you know who has Brooke and where she is?”

  Dimitri returned to looking at his phone. “When Declan told me the Russian could see Blake and Brooke, I tracked the culprit to the top floor of this building.” He pointed behind him. “As far as the trace… I knew Declan would tell Brooke about the trace or she’d find one herself, so I planted two on her.”

  “How?”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “It will.” Ty’s eyes darkened.

  I gave my head a shake. “Both of you, stop. Tell me you can find her,” I pleaded with Dimitri.

  “We will. But these guys are unpredictable and impulsive. We don’t want to send a team of police officers after her, in case she’s expendable to them. The second they deem her more of a nuisance than she’s worth…”

  “You two have to get on the road and track her down,” Ty said. “I need to go to the FBI. This is obviously bigger than an attack on Kentucky’s electric grid. Brooke and I suspected this, but we were trying to get better facts before we called the Louisville special agent in charge.” I could tell Ty wanted to go after Brooke himself, but he had a duty to law enforcement. He was forced to trust Dimitri and me.

  And though Brooke didn’t much care for the special agent in charge of the Louisville office, Ty was right: he had to get the FBI working with local and state police to get a grip on just how big this threat was.

  “Go,” I said. “Dimitri and I will find Brooke.”

  “You better,” he said, and his face held the worry and fear that I was attempting to bury.

  When Ty was gone, I turned to Dimitri. “Tell me you have a plan.”

  His eyes darkened under furrowed brows. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to Brooke. Let’s go.”

  “I did not recognize the men who took Brooke,” Dimitri said as he raced my SUV through the downtown streets, entering the interstate as I directed. “But I’m a hundred percent certain that the Russian hackers are behind the blackout, and now they’ve gone and blown up that bloke’s daughter. It’s fairly obvious that Ryan Saltzman ignored whatever they requested.”

  “This wasn’t just malware; it was ransomware.” In most cases of ransomware, hackers installed malicious software that encrypted a user’s files. The victim had to pay the ransom in order to have control of their files returned. In this case, the hackers apparently did much more.

  “A form of it anyway. And it looks like Louisville Power made the mistake of not bowing to the Russians’ demands.”

  “So they sent a message,” I said. “They punished Ryan for his non-cooperation, and they scared everyone else in that room into complying with future ransom demands.” I didn’t take my eyes off of Brooke’s flashing dot as we talked.

  “Exactly. I have no doubt the Russians are planning to take down the power in more cities. Do we know who else was in that room?”

  “Ty and Brooke might. As far as I’m concerned, that’s for the feds to figure out. My only objective is to get Brooke back.”

  “And do what? You going to put her under lock and key?” Dimitri eyed me sideways. “You’re trying so hard to win her trust that you let her destroy the tracking device I planted on her.”

  “I was already on unsteady ground with Brooke. If she thought I’d authorized you to track her whereabouts, she’d pull away so far, I might not ever get her trust.”

  “Declan, you should want to track her simply because of who you are. I realize you’re out of the business, but not everyone cares that you’re out. Besides, the fact that she has a nasty habit of putting herself in dangerous situations is reason enough for her to have a tracker embedded right inside her brain. One that no one can remove, especially Brooke herself.”

  The little dot continued to move along I-64. “Where did you put the second tracker?”

  “I’m not telling you. Those things cost money. You owe me for the one she destroyed.”

  “I’ll buy you ten tons of your stupid gadgets, asshole.”

  He reached across and touched my forearm. “I was only kidding, mate. We’re going to get Brooke back. You have my word.” He added, “You know, those earrings she wears nearly every day, they’re quite lovely.”

  I looked at him. “You didn’t.” He’d tucked that little device inside her new earrings?

  “They’re the perfect size. The tracker fit neatly inside the setting beneath the diamond. No one will see it.”

  All I could do was look at the flashing dot.

  Chapter 20

  I felt the vehicle shift to the right. I had been able to tell by the speed we were going that we were on the interstate; now, as the vehicle slowed a bit, we were clearly exiting. We’d been driving about twenty minutes, and I thought I had a good idea about where we must be, roughly. That information was useless, though, as I had no way of telling anyone.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked. I took in a deep breath, smelling the scent of pine from the air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

  “I have a message for you to deliver.”

  “Murdering Blake Saltzman wasn’t enough?” I asked, attempting to keep my voice calm, though my hands shook in my lap. “To whom am I delivering this message?”

  Silence. Maybe my death was part two of the message.

  I wondered if Dimitri had been able to hop in a vehicle and follow me. Did he tell Declan? Had they alerted the police? It would be a risk for anyone to follow too closely; knowing how expendable Blake Saltzman had been, they would assume I was just as expendable. I could only hope that somewhere behind us, Dimitri was on my tail.

  I knew Declan had to be going out of his mind, and I hated that. Ty and I were always aware of the risk when we got involved with high-risk cases
, but Declan… I hated putting him through this yet again. Though we’d never discussed it, he had to have thought the risk to my life had decreased when I left the FBI to work for Homeland Security. This would bring all his worrying back in full.

  The cruiser made a sharp left. Gravel crunched under the tires. I gripped the seat as I was jostled about.

  “Pull in,” the Russian said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And cut the headlights.”

  Pull in? Did he mean into a garage? Like at a house?

  “Miss Fairfax, you may remove your hood.”

  I pulled off the hood, prepared to squint in the daylight. But the space we were in was dark, though not pitch black. It felt large and open—a warehouse maybe? Light seeped through portions of the wall to my right and left.

  The Russian nodded at the driver, who turned on the headlights. The lights illuminated a figure, a female, slumped over in a chair thirty feet in front of the car. Short hair framed her face.

  “Who is that?” I asked.

  “Get her out,” said the Russian. “Let her get a closer look.”

  My heart sped up as the driver got out and pulled me roughly from the car. As the driver held me, a couple of men appeared beside the figure in the chair. They were dressed in dark gray and black, and they said nothing.

  I scanned the interior of the building, looking for anyone else. This place wasn’t a warehouse, I realized, but a large open barn, and judging by the earthy scent, a tobacco barn. A black van sat next to the entrance opposite from where we’d entered, but I saw no other men.

  The driver shoved me forward. “Try anything, and it will not end well for you. You will feel pain.”

  This asshole was such a cliché.

  “She’s not going to try anything,” the Russian said, stepping from the vehicle. “If she does, I’ll put a bullet in her and her friend’s head.”

  I looked from him—his black eyes, the scar above the right side of his lip—back to the slumping figure. Friend? I angled my head, analyzed the light-colored hair that was darker with sweat and dirt. That’s when I realized who it was.

  Samantha Clay.

  I started to go to her, then stopped. Any sudden movement might make these goons hurt one of us. “What do you want with her?” I asked.

  “With her?” the Russian said. “Nothing. She just happened to be too smart for her own good. Since she happened to reveal my identity before I was ready, she became an obstacle to my grand plan.”

  “And what plan is that?” I asked.

  Sam moaned and lifted her head. As she did, I saw the black, swollen eye and the gash to her cheek.

  No one stopped me when I walked forward and kneeled beside her. “Sam, it’s Brooke. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  The two men standing behind her chuckled under their breath. I looked up at them, making eye contact first with one, then the other.

  Sam whimpered. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Brooke. I’m sorry.”

  The Russian laughed. He had stepped up right behind me. “The plan, Miss Fairfax, is that you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do. Once you have, I’ll release the girl. As you learned with Blake Saltzman, you don’t want to play hero. Not today. Today, you follow orders. You do as I say, and you and your friend live.”

  I stood and faced him. “What do you want?”

  “For you to deliver a message.”

  “You already said that. To whom?”

  His jaw hardened at my tone. When his fingers curled into a fist, I instinctively backed up a step. “To your government.” He stepped close to me, smiled, then cupped my chin and jaw roughly. “We expect our demands to be met by the end of the day Thursday, or the entire Eastern Seaboard loses power. And we won’t stop there. You saw how quickly the residents of your Kentucky city lost their shit. Just imagine the chaos when New York City loses power. Boston. Washington, DC. And everywhere in between, including your entire state and everyone east and north of here. No one will be able to reboot that large of an area the way they were able to restart Louisville. That was just a preview to the chaos that is coming. This time the rich companies will pay up. And your government must not interfere.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The FBI is going to want to step in and ‘advise’ these companies. They’re going to tell the companies not to pay up. You’re going to inform your government what a very bad idea that is.”

  “What if I can’t convince them?” I said. I already knew that the federal government didn’t negotiate with terrorists.

  He squeezed my face tighter. “Then the grid goes down. Sam dies. And I hunt you down and put a bullet in your head. But maybe first we have a little fun with you.” He shoved me backwards.

  “Brooke,” Sam cried. “Please don’t leave me here.” Tears left streaks in the dirt on her face.

  I started toward her to assure her I would be back for her, but the Russian grabbed me and shoved me at the driver. “Put her in the back of the van. Based on what I know about this one, I think the message will be heard this time.”

  The driver held my hands tightly behind my back as he pushed me toward the van, reminding me of the pain in my shoulder from falling after the explosion. The other two men followed. The driver opened the back of the van, forced me inside, and slammed the doors closed. I flinched at the noise and the darkness. The van had no windows, and a partition prevented me from seeing into the front.

  The van began to move. I had no idea who was driving or where they were taking me, but I knew one thing for sure: I would do everything in my power to take down these Russian thugs.

  I estimated it was about forty minutes later when the back doors of the van opened once more. I squinted at the bright sun. One of the men who had yet to speak grabbed my ankle and dragged me toward him. I kicked and screamed. He picked me up, threw me over his shoulder, handling me like I weighed ninety pounds, and carried me around to the passenger side of the van.

  “Put me down, asshole!” I kicked again and pounded my fists against his back.

  He did exactly that. I landed with a thud in the middle of a soft patch of mulch and mud. I looked up and saw that I had been dumped in front of the governor’s mansion, in the middle of his rose garden. What kind of political statement was this?

  The man saluted me with a smile, shut the van’s rear doors, then climbed into the passenger seat. As he did so, I heard the sound of screeching tires and sirens. Several police cars came tearing around the corners on either side of the street.

  The man pointed a semi-automatic rifle out his open window. Just when I thought he was going to shoot at the police, he aimed the gun at me. I quickly rolled across a sidewalk and under a concrete bench; bullets ricocheted off the sidewalk and the bench, sending fragments of concrete flying.

  Additional gunfire erupted; the police had gotten involved. Tires squealed. I was in a tight ball, shielded by the bench, when I heard metal crash into metal. And then there was nothing but voices. The sirens were cut off. The gunfire ceased.

  I slowly crawled from under the bench. A cruiser had crashed into the van. The man was slumped against the dashboard, unmoving. I couldn’t see the driver from my angle, but I presumed he was in a similar position.

  “Brooke!”

  I turned to find Declan running toward me.

  “How did you—”

  He enveloped me in his arms. I tensed from the pain in my shoulder.

  Sensing my discomfort, he pushed me back. “Are you hurt?” He framed my face.

  “Do I ever come out of a scrape unscathed?” I looked around. “They have Sam.”

  “Sam?”

  “Samantha Clay, the one who discovered the malware. They took her last night. It’s some Russian group. They’re planning to take down the power grid all up and down the Eastern Seaboard.”

  I wasn’t sure Declan heard anything I said. “Let’s get you to the hospital to get checked out.”

  “Declan,
I don’t have time. Where’s Ty? We need to tell the FBI. I need to call the director. We were right. This power outage is so much bigger than Louisville.”

  “Ty’s already taking care of all that. Dimitri and I were tracking you, so Ty went straight to the FBI.”

  “Good. That’s good.” I turned in a circle. “I need to go to Louisville, too. To the FBI’s offices. I need a phone. And new service weapons. I seem to have lost mine.” I stopped and stared at Declan. “How did you and Dimitri track me? I thought I destroyed—”

  “Yes. You destroyed one of his two trackers.” He held up his hands. “I promise I didn’t know. You can be mad at him later. And me, too.” Declan placed his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. I winced from the pain in my right shoulder again. He pulled back. “You are hurt.”

  I gave my head a shake. “Just a little sore.”

  He lifted my hands. Dried blood was smeared all over my palms, darker along the cuts left behind by the shards of glass from the shattered windows at Thompson’s. “You’re bleeding.”

  “It’s nothing.” I pulled my hands free. “Back to Dimitri. So did you guys see where they took me? That’s where Sam is. We have to go get her.” I couldn’t stop the panic in my voice.

  “You’re not going anywhere but the hospital. That’s why they have field agents and police officers.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out to me. “Call Ty. Fill him in. Then you’re getting checked out. I’ll have David erase your old phone and pick you up another.”

  I took Declan’s phone and dialed Ty. I had to get a tactical rescue team to Sam. And I needed to conference with the director of the FBI.

  “Have you found her?” Ty asked. Clearly he thought it was Declan calling.