Breacher (Tom Keeler Book 2) Jack Lively (important of reading books TXT) 📖

at the screen. It showed the same photograph I’d seen of Zarembina, but this time showing her as a Special Agent with the Office of Investigations.

I said, “What do they investigate at the Department of Energy?”

Ellie said, “We looked it up. They mostly go after fraud and abuse. The Department of Energy contracts work out to private enterprise, so they look for bad guys trying to rip off the taxpayer.”

Hank said, “Their yearly budget is like forty billion bucks, so that’s a shit load of cash ready to leak.”

Ellie was looking into space, a thousand-yard stare.

I said, “What if Zarembina was still doing the same job, but now with the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. It’s what you’re thinking already, Ellie.”

Hank looked from me to Ellie, not entirely following. She leaned back in the chair and nodded. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

I said, “Zarembina moves on from energy to become an investigator with the USNRC, where she meets George Abrams. Then this. Doesn’t entirely explain the situation, but it’s the best theory so far.”

Ellie looked at me. We both knew that there was more, but that this was a pretty good start. Hank was hunched over the keyboard still, not moving but staring into the screen. I said, “Hank, let’s get you away from here. Fresh air and ocean spray will do wonders for you.”

He nodded vaguely. “You think?”

“We can keep going on this later.” I gave a significant look to Ellie.

She said, “Get going. I’ll deal with this, and Hank, I’ll see you later about making a statement.”

Hank shut down his machines reluctantly. He was way too comfortable with his computers. By the time we got outside I could tell he was restless. I shouldered him hard and Hank wobbled, but grinned despite everything. The kid needed to do something physical, to get himself worn out and ready to sleep it all off and wake up a new person. He needed an ordeal to get his mind off what had just happened.

I said, “Good to go?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Let’s do it.”

Hank followed me around the front of the trailer to his mom’s Toyota Land Cruiser and I threw him the keys. “You drive, Hank.”

He looked at me, like a doe speaking to a leopard. “I don’t have my license yet.”

I shrugged. “So what? This is Alaska.”

Thirty

The boy was quiet on the ride out to Eagle Cove. He gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands and chewed his lip. Otherwise, Hank’s eyes were fixated on a spot somewhere over the horizon. Not a good look for a driver, but I was fairly confident that this wasn’t his first trip behind the wheel. They start early up in Alaska.

In my hand, I still had the Glock pried out of the dead fingers of the assassin. I popped the glove compartment in front of me and put the gun in there with the extra magazine. The scenery from the passenger seat blurred by like an out of focus movie. Dull and faded homes were set into hillsides bursting with an almost uncontrollable vegetation. Once we arrived, Hank put the Land Cruiser into park and turned to me.

His face was deathly white. He looked rough. “Keeler, what we are doing here? What’s the connection? I don’t get it.”

I was patient with him. “We think the guys who killed your mom were working for people who own some property up past the old fire tower.”

“You mean Mister Lawrence.”

“That’s right, Hank. We don’t know exactly what they’re up to, but it isn’t any good. They’re prepared to kill people, and your mom isn’t the first, and might not be the last. Reason we’re out here is because the property they own comes with a private island. It’s their island now, but it used to belong to the government, who loaned it to the navy to use as a research base. I want to take a look at the island. So that’s why we are here, Hank.”

He said, “And what happens when we find out what we want to know? We just give the information to the police and hope that they’ll catch whoever killed mom?”

Which was Hank’s real question, and it was one that I respected. Ultimately, he wanted to know about getting revenge. I said, “No. I won’t settle for that. I’m not a cop. When I find the people who are responsible, I’m going to take them out, Hank. Big time.”

He nodded, his gritted teeth showing through chapped lips. “Yes, I want to be part of that. I have the right.”

I shook my head. “Rights are for lawyers and the legal system, and we’re drifting from those shores, buddy. Out here there are no rights. If you want rights you’re better off keeping out of it. Live to fight another day.”

Hank said, “I can shoot, Keeler, and you’ll need someone who can shoot.”

I thought for maybe three seconds. I figured there wasn’t any better rehabilitation therapy than righteous revenge. An eye for an eye sounds good, but not when it’s both of your mom’s eyes. Then you’d be better off tearing out ten or twenty of theirs. I said, “You do what I tell you, when I tell you. No more, no less. You just do your part. You’ll get your revenge, even if I’m the one doing the taking. It’ll be yours as well. Hear what I’m saying?”

Hank nodded once and turned the ignition key to off. The engine stopped running.

I led the boy through the cannery, and out to the docks. He followed a few steps back, alert and curious. About half of the boats had shipped out by then. Joe Guilfoyle was up in the wheel house. When he saw me he made no gesture of recognition. Just put down the book he was reading and stood up from the chair. I stepped on board. Hank followed and a minute later the diesel engine kicked over. Two minutes after that, we were chugging away from the cannery dock.

I brought Hank up