Page 169 of Nash Falls
“Why do you call him ‘Mr. Temple’?”
“He’s my boss.”
“Well, maybeIshould start calling him that too, then.”
She turned and walked slowly off.
That night someone knocked on Nash’s door. It was Rhett, looking triumphant.
“My detectives got back to me. The guy ‘Shock’ mentioned in the letter I found? His real name is Isaiah York. He and Ty Nash grew up together in Mississippi. They also fought in Nam together, like Judith said. York has a condo in town and a business address in another state. They checked his condo. Turns out he hasn’t been there for a very long time. So we’re going to hit his business. He might be there, or at least we might find a clue as to Nash’s whereabouts. We’re wheels up at eight, so be ready to go at six thirty.”
After he left, Nash emailed Shock and told him to go deep underground. Then he got into bed but barely slept, thinking about how quickly all of this might go irreversibly sideways.
But the other thing he could not stop thinking about was… Judith. She might have cheated on him, but she was still his wife. And he still cared for her.
Just hold on, Judith. Please, just hold on.
CHAPTER
82
RHETT’S BRAND-NEW DASSAULT FALCON10X jet lifted off right at the stroke of eight in the morning. On board were Rhett, Lynn Ryder, and Nash, with one flight attendant and a pair of pilots.
Nash was sitting at a table with Rhett, while Ryder sat in a forward seat staring out at the gloomy morning as the aircraft cut smoothly through the low cloud ceiling.
They were all served breakfast and coffee at an accelerated pace because the flight was only about ninety minutes. Nash recalled that, with necessary stops in between, and the ubiquitous traffic snarls, it had taken him and Shock nearly fifteen hours to cover the roughly seven-hundred-mile drive to the training facility. As soon as they dropped below the clouds once more on their descent, the landing gear came down. A few minutes later they were taxiing to a stop at a private jet park where a sleek, black Cadillac Escalade was waiting. Rhett took the wheel, while Nash rode shotgun and Ryder occupied a rear seat.
“Ms. Ryder has arranged for some manpower to meet us there,” said Rhett.
“You expect trouble?” asked Nash.
“We expect anything,” interjected Ryder tersely.
It took another forty-five minutes to get to their destination. The road in was very familiar to Nash, but he looked around with what he hoped was a sense of seeing it all for the first time.
“Isolated, no prying eyes,” he noted.
Rhett nodded. “I think that’s our people right up there.”
He indicated the SUV parked by the side of the road about a hundred yards from the automatic gate into Shock’s training center.
Rhett stopped next to them and they got out. Three men emerged from the SUV; they looked hardened and capable. They were also all Asian, Nash noted. Ryder was clearly in command, giving them instructions in what Nash recognized as Japanese. They climbed back into their vehicles and drove to the gate, where one of the men in the other SUV hit the call box button. There was no answer, as Nash knew would be the case.
“Nobody home,” observed Rhett. He eyed Ryder, who was already on her phone.
Another man from the other SUV got out and nimbly scaled the wall. Three minutes later the gate slid open and the vehicles pulled in.
They all got out and looked around at a space that Nash had been intimately familiar with for well over a year. He took great care not to show recognition of any feature, and just pointed out elements that were visible to the naked eye. But he also knew that Shock had security cameras hidden everywhere.
“Okay, let’s get inside and start the search,” said Rhett.
“This facility has to be alarmed,” noted Nash. He had figured it would be a beneficial point to raise to divert any suspicion away from him, although he hoped no one had any.
“Good idea,” said Rhett. He looked at Ryder. “Can we get inside the building without calling all the cops down on us?”
Ryder pointed to one of her men and again spoke in Japanese.
The man went to the main door of the building, which Nash knew housed the living quarters. From a gear pack the man drew out a small electronic device and ran it along the perimeter of the doorjamb until it started to beep. He next took a spray can from the gear pack, inserted a very thin flex straw in the nozzle, and shot this spot with the contents of the can. The substance came out as stark white and seemed to harden immediately. He waited for ten seconds, then took a long, thin strip of metal from his pack and inserted it between the door and the doorjamb at that same spot, carefully sliding it back and forth. He examined this area with a lighted flex scope with a small viewing screen attached. Apparently satisfied, he pulled out a pickgun from his gear pack, inserted it into the lock, and popped it. He opened the door, and no alarm sounded.
