Relentless: Episode 3 of the Shattered Chronicles Read online

  Langley, Virginia

  "Who do we have trying to locate Alexander?" Samuels asked as he and Smith walked into the conference room at the CIA.

  "Couple of guys from that area have been on it since we left," Smith answered. "So far they haven't turned up anything. Looks like the man just vanished off the face of the planet. No leads, no clues, nothing."

  "Andy, hey." Stork looked up from where he sat at the conference table as Smith and Samuels entered. "When did you get back?" He stood.

  "A few days ago," Smith answered as he shook Stork's hand. "Mark, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Roger Stork. Roger this is Mark Samuels."

  Sewer Rat Samuels, Stork thought. Andy told him about Samuels getting lost in the sewer chasing Cord Alexander. "Nice to meet you," he said with a smile.

  "So," Samuels was feeling like the odd man out. "What are we doing here? I know our teams are playing this as a joint venture, but I thought there were no leads so far?"

  "Have a seat," Stork gestured. "I wanted to fill you in personally on what I have so far. The old man himself is very interested in this case so we're playing it close to the vest. Information is only being doled out on a need-to-know basis."

  Stork closed the conference room door. "As it stands Alexander is the only suspect we have and since we can't find him, we have to call on every resource we have to fit the pieces together. We have to locate the nuclear waste before it gets into the wrong hands. Now, since you boys have been in on this from the beginning, my orders are to keep you completely up to date on everything we find. It will require you to do the same. I need not tell you that what is said here goes no further than this room. You're not to discuss this with anyone at the bureau except the Chief. Is that clear?"

  Smith nodded, "Clear. Who's in charge of the operation?"

  "I am," Stork said. "Now, here's what we have so far…"

  Cotton Creek, Texas

  Trevor took a seat across from his mother and kept his head down as he ate in silence. Once finished, he rose and walked back into the kitchen to fix himself a glass of juice. Then, never looking in her direction, he cleared away the mess he'd made.

  Now, Morgan knew something was wrong. Trevor never, ever, cleaned up anything unless he absolutely had to. He was stalling, and she was trying very hard to be patient. But when he walked past her saying, "I'm gonna take a shower," her patience ran out.

  "Wait a minute." She turned in her chair. "We need to talk."

  Trevor's shoulders slumped. He turned, walked back to the table and slid into a chair. He sat with his head down, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

  "Aren't you going to tell me what happened in New Mexico?" she asked.

  For several minutes he didn't respond. When he finally looked up and met her eyes, she saw the mental anguish written on his face. He quickly looked away.

  Morgan reached over and squeezed his hand briefly. "It's okay," she said gently. "Whatever it is, just let it out. Holding it in won't make it better. If you tell me maybe I can help."

  A haunted expression captured his face and his eyes suddenly looked hollow and older than his years. When their gazes finally met, she saw the man warring with the boy that still lived inside him. She wanted to say more, but she knew the man was striving to emerge, to stand on his own.

  So, she did nothing to hinder it. Silently she waited. At last he seemed to gain control and spoke. As soon as he started, the words poured out in a torrent, faster and faster, his sentences choppy and almost incoherent. He told her everything that happened from the time he and Jeff got to Odessa until now.

  Morgan listened without interruption. When Trevor fell silent, he dropped his head into his hands. She knew there was more he wanted to say, but she didn't want to press.

  Without warning, she heard his voice in her mind, crying out. I tried, I really did!

  "Tried what?" she asked in reflex, startling him with her question. He jerked his head up and gave her a strange look. "Mom?"

  "Finish your story," Morgan didn't want to even try to explain how she'd heard his thought. She couldn't if she wanted to because she didn't understand it herself.

  Trevor jumped up from his chair and paced back and forth. "I looked everywhere for him Mom! Big Jeff and I covered every inch of that place. We looked all over New Mexico. But he just vanished. Something bad happened to him and it's my fault. I shouldn't have let him go by himself!"

  The pent-up emotions he'd carried for so long burst free. Tears streamed down his face as he sat again. "I'm sorry Mom. It's all my fault."

  It was then she realized that Trevor knew nothing about Cord and Cassie. His father hadn't told him. Instead he just left, letting his son think something dreadful had happened to him.

  Damn him! She was suddenly furious. That bastard! How could he treat his own son this way? That slimy coward. Sneaking off with that tramp of his and letting Trevor search all over hell and high water when all the time he's off somewhere having a grand old time. What an asshole.

  She rose and walked over behind Trevor, put her hands on his shoulders and took a deep breath as she tried to stem her rage. "Nothing's your fault, Trevor. Your Dad is fine."

  Trevor spun around and grabbed her hand. He almost jerked her off her feet as he pulled on her. "He's okay? You've seen him? Where is he? What happened? Why didn't he let me know?"

  "Hold on," Morgan pulled free, sat back down at the table and told Trevor what had happened from the time Cord received the call from Tom until now. She did, however, leave out the part about the tape with Cord and Cassie on it. But she told him about receiving the photos in the mail. Also omitted from the account was the government's suspicions about Cord's involvement in the missing nuclear waste and the nature of her relationship with Victor. She told Trevor that Victor was a friend.

  Trevor listened in wide-eyed shock. Morgan was just finished when he bolted out of his seat, his body trembling with tension

  He shook his head back and forth he looked at her, "No way. I don't believe it. It doesn't make any sense. Are you sure?"

  "It doesn't make much sense to me either but apparently it's true. Look Trevor, this hurts me as much as it does you. I'd have never thought in a million years something like this would happen. But it has and all we can do is pick up the pieces and go on the best we can."

  "Oh, yeah?" he shot back at her. "Just write him off, just like that? What's wrong with you Mom?"

  As if a thought had suddenly occurred to him, he turned toward Morgan. "What does this woman look like, anyway?"

  "She's about five foot seven or eight, has long auburn hair, a good figure, really nice legs and is about, oh, I don't know, early thirties or so." Morgan tried to describe Cassie fairly. "Why?" she asked, seeing an odd look cross his face.

  Trevor slumped down in a chair. The woman I saw coming out of Dad's hotel room, he thought, feeling suddenly sick. He wished he could just turn back the clock; not let his Dad go off by himself. Then all this wouldn't be happening.

  Not wanting to talk about it anymore he sat silently, looking down miserably at the floor. All the things his mother had told him, combined with what he had seen swam through his head. He felt like his head would explode if he stayed there one minute longer.

  "Look, Mom I'm going to take a shower then I'm going to go to Big Jeff's for a while. I just need some time. I don't want to talk anymore, okay?"

  "Sure, go ahead, we can talk later when you feel like it."

  Trevor walked away without another word. She sat alone at the table staring blankly into space and holding herself upright. Once she heard his bedroom door close, her control slipped. Morgan put her elbows on the table, lowered her face into her hands and let the tears loose.

  Sobs wracked her body as she cried. Her own heart had been ripped out by what Cord did, but what he'd done to their son cut into her very soul. Over the past few weeks, she'd accepted that Cord no longer wanted her. But to hurt Trevor this way was something she couldn’t forgive.
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  Trevor was so hurt and shocked over what she told him, she didn't know if she could ever bring herself to tell him what the CIA and FBI suspected. So far, he knew his Dad had run off with another woman and that was almost too much for him. But to hear Cord was responsible for the missing nuclear waste, that he was a criminal and had tried to have her killed–well that was more than she felt she could tell him. Much more than he could bear.

  Her tears subsided and anger welled up inside of her. At that moment she felt the overwhelming urge to pound something with her fists, preferably Cord.

  Morgan dried her face and looked down at her watch. It was almost time for Victor to arrive. She quickly bounded up the stairs, pulling off her clothes as she headed for the shower.

  As she stepped underneath the water, she had another thought that caused her yet another concern. How do I explain my date with Victor to Trevor?

  New Mexico

  Cord woke and blinked at the unfamiliar surroundings. Slowly, it came to him where he was: in the old man’s house. The old man who’d found him in the desert and saved him. He sat up and looked around. The old man was sitting on the opposite side of the small room, watching him.

  “How long have I been here?” Cord asked.

  “Is time important?”

  “Well–yeah.”

  The old man made a sound like a rusty engine trying to start and stood. “You’ve been here long enough to heal.”

  “Then I guess I should be going.”

  “Without paying your debt?”

  "Debt?" Cord reached up to scratch the back of his neck. "What debt?" Then it came to him. He’d made the old man a promise. To build a shed for the cart and the donkey. "Oh no. I mean after that. So, where do you want me to build this shed?"

  The old man crossed the room to the door and stepped outside. Cord followed, watching as the old man moved over to an unlevel outcropping of rock. He spread his arms wide, and in a sweeping motion, turned one way and then the other. "Here."

  Cord's eyes moved from the old man to the path that led upward, away from the dwelling. A sudden urgency to follow the path engulfed him. But the old man stood waiting.

  He looked at the unyielding surface beneath his feet, the solid rock and boulders that covered the ground. This would be no fast or easy task, but a promise was a promise.

  "What do I call you, old man?" Cord asked, feeling as though he should know, but his memory wouldn’t supply a name.

  "Just call me Joe."

  "Joe?" Why did that name tug at something inside him? "Just Joe?"

  "Just Joe."

  "Well, Joe," Cord said, "it's nice to meet you, I'm..." his voice trailed off as he realized that he really had no idea who he was. An odd panic gripped him as he searched his mind for answers.

  But his memories went only as far back as the mountain. Before that, there was only a void. His legs gave way, and he sat down hard. "I don't know who I am.” Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked to the old man for some sign of reassurance.

  Joe walked over, knelt, and placed his hand on Cord's shoulder, looking down at him. His blue eyes were kind but undecipherable. "You're an ancient warrior, one of the Others, guardian of and consort to the Queen," he said after a long pause, "and you have a debt to pay."

  An ancient warrior, one of the others, guardian of and consort to the queen? The words played over and over in his mind, still lending him no clue to his identity, where he came from or where he belonged. In fact, it sounded like something from a fairy tale or science fiction story.

  And how did he know about those things and not his own name? “So, what do I call myself?”

  “You tell me.”

  He had no clue but needed something to call himself because at present he felt very lost and needed some kind of identity. But what name would he give to himself? He thought about it for a long time and finally decided that until he knew his real name, he’d do without one.

  Chapter Three

  Cotton Creek, Texas

  By the time Morgan showered and dressed she’d decided to call off her date with Victor. She wanted to be home whenever Trevor got back from Jeff's. Dressed in a pair of cutoff jeans and a tee shirt she went downstairs and found Trevor sitting on the couch, idly flipping through the television stations.

  He pressed a button on the remote when he saw her, turned off the set and tossed the remote onto the coffee table.

  "Got a couple of bucks I could have?" he asked as she sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. "I'm broke, and the bank is closed."

  "You mean you still have money in the bank?" Morgan asked as she got up and walked into the foyer to get her purse.

  "Yeah," he answered as she returned, going through her billfold. "Jeff and I picked up a few jobs repairing bikes along the way, so I haven't had to use anything out of my account yet. I just ran out of cash on the way in from New Mexico and Jeff floated me a loan until we got home."

  "Well," she smiled. "I'm impressed. I thought you'd have been flat broke by now. So how much do you need?"

  "A hundred?" He posed his answer in the form of a question.

  "I don't have that much cash on me," she replied as she handed a couple of twenties to him along with her ATM card. "But take this and you can get what you need from the bank. You'll go right by it on the way to Jeff's. You can pay me back later. Just don't lose my card."

  "Thanks," he stood and stuffed the money and the card into the pocket of his jeans. "Well, guess I'll take off," he said at the same moment the gate buzzer sounded.

  "I'll get it,” he said, already on his way to the door. He reached for the intercom, "Yeah?" he punched the button, "Who is it?"

  "Victor," came the reply after a moment's hesitation.

  Morgan raced over to Trevor and both spoke at the same time. "I'll open the gate," she said as he demanded, "Victor who?"

  Morgan pushed the gate button as Trevor glared down at her. "Who's Victor and what's he doing here?"

  "I told you before. He's a friend and I had plans to have dinner with him."

  "A date?" His tone gave away his surprise and disapproval. "You have a date?"

  Morgan turned around and walked back into the den, "I'm having dinner with a friend, Trevor."

  "Jesus, Mom!" he followed, waving his arms and shouting at the top of his lungs. "Dad leaves town for a little while and suddenly you have a fucking date with some–some dickhead nobody knows. What's wrong with this picture, huh?"

  "Drop it, Trevor," Morgan warned him and moved as if to walk around him.

  He stepped in her way, "Who is this guy, anyway? How did you say you met him? And how long have you been having these dinners?"

  "I already told you. Victor's a friend. And since when do I need your permission, or anyone else's to have dinner with someone? And last of all," she took a step toward him, her voice pitched low and hard, "I didn't ask your Dad to leave me. I didn't want him to leave. I loved him more than you can imagine. He left me, you get that? He left because he wanted to, not because I made him. So, don't blame me for being in a position I never wanted to be."

  "That doesn't explain the asshole pulling up the driveway!" He stepped back as she advanced on him; giving way but not completely giving in.

  "No, it doesn't. But I don't intend on getting into that with you. I'm sorry you don't think I deserve to have friends and not just sit in this house alone all the time. But I refuse to just crawl into a hole and die because your father decided that he'd rather have someone else over me. So, get off the stump. I don't need any preaching from you."

  "Look, Trevor, let's call a truce, okay? Neither one of us is ready to get into this. Let's give it some time. And don't be so quick to judge Victor before you even meet him, okay?"

  "Yeah, sure," he finally grudgingly agreed, then added as she reached over and squeeze his arm, "Just don't expect me to like him!" He walked past her, flopped down on the couch and crossed his arms.

  "Hey, Mom. He is just a friend, right?" />
  The sound of the doorbell saved her from having to answer. Morgan hurried to the front door, opened it and pulled back as Victor reached out for her "Hi Victor. Please, come in. I want you to meet my son."

  She preceded him into the family room and made the introductions. "Victor, this is my son, Trevor. Trevor this is Victor Vinsetti."

  Trevor stood as Victor approached him. Victor extended his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Trevor."

  Trevor's eyes narrowed as he looked up at Victor. His voice was tense as he shook Victor's hand, "Yeah, you too."

  "Look, Mom," he walked away from Victor. "I'm gonna go." He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "You know where I'll be if you need me," he added, casting a glance back at Victor.

  "Okay," she hugged him briefly. "See you later?"

  "Sure," he said and headed out the door. "See ya."

  "Well," Morgan walked past Victor into the kitchen. "What would you like to eat? I can fix up some pasta and a salad if you like, or –"

  "I'd prefer to eat out," Victor followed her.

  Morgan turned to look up at him as he entered the kitchen. "Victor, I don't think I should leave tonight. I really need to be here when Trevor gets back. He just found out about Cord and Cassie today and he's taking it hard. You have to understand, he idolizes his father. And to find out something like this is a lot for him to deal with. I need to be with him."

  Victor pulled her to him and hugged her closely so she wouldn’t see the rage on his face. He knew full well if he said anything about Trevor, it would drive her away. And he had no intention of letting anything or anyone stand in his way when it came to having her.

  Once his pique was under control he smiled. "I understand completely," he said, then thought to himself, I'll deal with Trevor my way.

  "What?" Morgan pushed back and looked at him suspiciously. "What did you say about Trevor?"

  Alarms went off in his head as he realized she heard his thoughts as though he'd spoken them aloud. He quickly raised a mental barrier. He had to find out what had gone wrong.