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  Nevertheless, at least his mother was proud of him when he graduated from the Internal Revenue Service academy, officially known as the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, into the Criminal Investigation Division. After all, he could have chosen the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms.

  Of additional consolation in Jason’s joining the IRS was the focus of his department. CID didn’t do audits, so the family’s tax returns were probably safe. It did, however, investigate and prosecute money launderers. This prospect caused a couple of distant cousins more than one bad night thinking about that.

  Against his father’s wishes, his mother came down to Brunswick, Georgia to the converted naval base and stood tall when he’d walked to the podium for his certificate and handshake. She hadn’t commented, much to her credit, on the awful stench from the nearby shellac factory that permeated the air around the academy. On that day, there wasn’t anything that could have deflated the high which Jason experienced.

  In the years since that fateful day, Jason continued to visit his parents back home for the Christmas holidays. As always, they held an extended family get-together. At these holiday extravaganzas, his older brother, cousins, aunts, and uncles gathered in good cheer to toast the furtherance of the family business and discuss plans for the upcoming year. Because Jason’s father swept the house thoroughly for listening devices, everyone attending knew any discussions bordering on the illegal were safe.

  Generally stoic about it, Jason typically put his professional ethics on hold during these parties. He averted his eyes and pretended that what these people did was simply work-a-day routine. It wasn’t. They were thieves, tax evaders, and—Jason knew about those two cousins—money launderers. Finding an honest person in the bunch was a losing effort.

  ***

  Once at the bar, he asked for a Jack and water, settling with his back against the polished wood as he took a sip. He felt the pulse in his temple throb as his breathing slowed from his encounter. Good thing he hadn’t joined the family business. It wouldn’t have been long before he and Rick would have been at each other’s throats night and day. What a disaster that would have been. He shook his head and tried to relax by reverting to observation mode; what he’d always done: disengage and let the world revolve around him.

  His parents’ house was large and comfortable with ample space for the fifty or so people in the spacious recreation room. The residence combined Southern old money with conscious reminders of the family’s dirt-poor beginnings. Tony and tacky: polished mahogany flooring with Chinese silk rugs; knick-knacks scattered about, like a venting pipe on display from one of his grandfather’s stills. Money and poverty mixed together in an often volatile mess. There were some things one couldn’t escape in life—fingerprints of one’s past were hard to remove.

  Jason scanned the familiar crowd, his gray eyes growing wintry as they always did when he had moments like this to himself. It might be better to break all ties. That at least would eliminate the internal conflict these occasions engendered, and the danger it posed to his career.

  The other issue he inevitably pondered was the family name—Ruger. If it was true what his father claimed, it would have been reasonable to find one relation who showed up at these parties who, in fact, had a connection with the firearm branch of the family. Not once in Jason’s thirty-five years had that happened. Was that a lie, just as the family façade of respectability was a huge fabrication?

  “Hey, Jason, you look unhappy. That’s not allowed.”

  He started at the woman’s voice. “Sorry, I don’t…”

  “Lizzy. Don’t you remember me?”

  Frowning, he said, “Lizzy? Lizzy Morris? Second cousin? Tomboy? Always hanging from trees and getting lost in the woods?”

  “Exactly.” Her laughter was a tonic to his heavy mood.

  “You’ve grown.” And so poised, yet she looked younger than the eight-year difference between them, which had kept them from much interaction in the past.

  “I’ve been away the last several years and didn’t make it to these annual bashes.”

  “That explains it. I recall a scrawny little girl with scratches on her cheeks and scrapes on her knees.” That child was a far cry from the beautiful young woman standing before him.

  “I’m still like that in some respects.” She rested her hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re alone. Can we talk?”

  Jason shrugged. “Sure, go ahead.”

  Silky black hair momentarily obscured her tanned face when she shook her head. “Not here. Privately.”

  Enough informants had approached Jason in the same way over the years that Lizzy’s request made his skin tingle. He dismissed the feeling. What could she possibly have to say in that vein?

  “I need some air,” Jason said. “How about a drive?”

  “Wonderful. My car? I have a convertible.”

  “It’s thirty degrees.”

  “I’ll turn on the heater.”

  Chapter 4

  Stars radiated through the crisp mountain air of the night sky like lasers aimed from invading space ships. Jason loved the Blue Ridge Mountains, and riding through them in December in an open topped car was something he’d never done. His ears were freezing but the heated leather seats and cranked-up heater kept even his hands warm. What a rush!

  “What do you think?” Lizzy asked above the noise of the wind.

  “Beats the party.”

  “I’ll bet, coming from where you do.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant by that but let it pass. She rounded a switchback and accelerated upward, ignoring the fact that they were into another hard curve immediately and should have taken it much slower in the dark. Jason held his breath as the Audi A6 careened toward the edge. A well of blackness loomed. If there’d been a guardrail, he could have easily touched it. Since there wasn’t one—well…

  Jason tried to remember more about Lizzy, this precocious cousin that he hardly knew. Heck, he didn’t even know what a second cousin was.

  “You said you’ve been away,” Jason said. “Were you at school?”

  “Partly.” She maneuvered through another severe turn continuing their upward climb. “I attended Vanderbilt for a couple years after graduating early from high school, joined Greenpeace and worked with them for another two, then came back and finished my undergrad. Once I got that under my belt, I decided to attend law school. Did that and now I’m in private practice.”

  “You must be older than I remember.”

  “Twenty-seven.” The car strained in third gear. She down-shifted into second where it zoomed forward with new life.

  She must be smart to have accomplished what she had at this age. “Helping the family with their legal strategies, are you?” He was hoping she wouldn’t answer.

  “That, and…” She hesitated, as though pondering whether to tell him something. Apparently making up her mind, she added, “I’ve also been doing pro bono work.”

  “Greenpeace?”

  “I might not be talking to you if it was only them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lizzy shook her head and concentrated on her driving. Jason leaned back and watched the trees, boulders, and occasional lighted house flash by. Snow lay on the ground, snatches of white in a windstorm of motion. There didn’t seem to be ice on the road; the crews did a good job of salting around here, but you never knew… The tires squealed as the car rounded each bend. With each fresh incline, the car slipped on road oil, grabbed purchase, and moved forward with new resolve.

  The outside air grew even colder as they climbed higher, and Jason tasted the crispness of it. In a moment Lizzy slithered the car over loose gravel onto a poorly marked side road, pulled into a clearing, and killed the engine.

  The red Audi ticked in the sudden stillness. Darkness encompassed them. Its depth would have been complete, except for the sight directly before them.

  Rising from atop the adjacent mountain as an icon of man’s worst inst
incts, the HoneyCrest Luxury Condominium and Ski Resort complex towered fifteen stories above Honey Mountain in all its splendor and glory. Catering to the privileged, HoneyCrest sat like a blight upon the region, visible from all directions night and day, a beacon of bad taste hovering over neighboring mountains and the valleys below. Since the project’s inception, Jason had marveled that zoning for such a monstrosity could be approved. Once that had occurred, he still couldn’t believe the developers would proceed with their plans. Wouldn’t the local community rise up in rebellion and prevent the structure from being built? There was plenty of hue and cry, primarily from environmental groups, and all useless.

  Jason always believed that an under-the-table payoff had assured the venture would proceed. He would have loved investigating that one, but it was out of his district and would have been difficult. Besides, it was tough enough passing IRS background checks given his family’s inclinations. Their immunity to prosecution—the veneer of respectability in the community, always a source of wonder—had shielded him. That was one time he’d been thankful for their pretense and the bribes they’d showered upon local law enforcement. After that, he’d never wanted to call more attention to his hometown than necessary. Who knew where that would lead? Plus, there was always the possibility—if not the probability—that his family was at the bottom of any illicit activity paving the way for HoneyCrest’s approval.

  “Lovely,” was all his sarcasm could manage. It was a shock to realize how much he hated HoneyCrest.

  “It would be,” Lizzy said. “What a monstrosity.”

  Jason nodded in agreement, then gave her an edited recital of his suspicions.

  Her cheek twitched. “Be great to make HoneyCrest disappear, wouldn’t it?”

  “Just like that, huh?” Jason laughed. “Yeah, no great loss.”

  “That’s what I first thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Lizzy shivered. She restarted the engine. Heat blasted into the small open space where they sat.

  “I don’t know how to say this. It’s like I’m betraying my best friends.”

  Jason stayed silent, letting her talk, not at all sure where the conversation was headed.

  “It’s about putting your money where your mouth is. You know the Nike saying: Just do it. I love that phrase.” She placed both hands on the steering wheel and hunched forward while staring at the distant tower. Its windows twinkled with hundreds of lights.

  “No,” Lizzy said, more to herself than to Jason, then repeated more forcefully, “No.” She shook her head and bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here. Never mind.”

  She kicked the car into reverse, spewing gravel as she turned. Jason had no idea what she’d convinced herself of. He opened his mouth to tell her it didn’t matter when he saw the first flash from the corner of his eye.

  “Wait!” he yelled, pointing toward the opposite mountain. “What in the world?”

  Lizzy stomped on the brake and both watched as explosions rocked HoneyCrest.

  Chapter 5

  The first explosion slammed the building from within about half way up. It propelled windows, furnishings, and bodies, scattering them over the mountain top. The next two charges detonated at the base. The fourth blew at the same height as the first. Flames shot skyward from shattered openings on multiple floors.

  In the stillness that followed the initial blasts, agonized screams pierced the distance between the mountains. Fire lapped upward toward the roof. Tiny figures dropped from the upper floors. Soon the inferno engulfed the entire structure. More people plunged to their deaths.

  Sirens began wailing across the valley. Flashing red, white, and blue lights from speeding emergency vehicles attacked the tortuous climb toward HoneyCrest.

  Lizzy sat transfixed beside Jason, her eyes wide and shining with tears. Without words their hands intertwined as the tragedy played out before them from their aerie view.

  From the base of the tower, white heat extended upward through the building’s core. It pulsed through the central elevator shaft climbing floor by floor and radiated outward like molten lava. When it reached the top, an incendiary display burst over the mountaintop like the Fourth of July gone insane.

  In the clear night, miles away and safe on their own mountain, the two watchers recoiled and shivered.

  One side of the building buckled, then a second crumpled inward. As implosion proceeded, the structure contracted into itself. Steel and glass were sucked into a churning vortex of flaming debris. As the building collapsed, it sent skyward a fiery mushroom cloud lit from within by thousands of sparks burning—eating—anything it could consume. The awful force of the blast sent parabolic waves cascading outward toward Jason and Lizzy. A gust of hot wind swept over them in their little Audi cocoon.

  The final roar of collapse echoed from mountain to mountain, the handiwork of pride brought to its knees; a defeat of man’s desire to perpetuate by someone else’s greater need to destroy.

  Chapter 6

  The trip down the mountain was more harrowing than the climb. Lizzy’s erratic driving nearly threw them over the edge more times than Jason could count. They crossed the valley and rounded a mountain far from the sights and sounds of HoneyCrest. When they reached the walk leading to his parents’ house, she said, “Get out.”

  Her face was set, and he knew better than to protest when a woman looked like that. Before he could shut the door, the Audi roared away, leaving him perplexed, watching the receding tail lights until they winked out of sight.

  Inside the house, Jason heard the sounds of the ongoing party, the revelers seemingly ignorant of the great tragedy almost at their doorstep. A guffaw sounded, probably his Uncle Norman. Jason gritted his teeth and wondered what reaction he’d get when he broke the news about HoneyCrest. He turned toward the house.

  He was on edge from the night’s events, pumped with adrenaline. It provided an internal warning. Something in the darkness. Menacing. The furtive approach of footsteps. A figure bearing down on him.

  He crouched, his training instincts mobilizing him into defensive posture. Stepping into the attack, he realized his mistake. From the corner of his eye he saw another shadowy movement. He twisted quickly, trying to avoid the blow. The metal rod struck him at the base of the neck. His knees buckled. The last thought he formed before plunging into darkness: Not quick enough.

  ***

  The black cloud transformed into gray mist that swirled through his mind like exhaust from a ruptured muffler. Sharp, acrid fumes slashed through his sinuses. Ammonia. He jerked his head back, banging it against a metal object.

  “About time.” A man’s voice, rough with an edgy tenseness to it.

  “You wacked him good. He’s lucky he doesn’t have a concussion.” Another man, a natural tenor.

  “Tough if he does. We’ve got better things to do than babysit him all night,” said the first.

  A hard slap to the cheek snapped Jason’s eyes open. The pain behind them almost brought him to tears. It was a heavy throbbing ache, debilitating in its intensity.

  “Welcome back, butthead.” The first man was standing before him with a nasty sneer, hands on his hips. He was huge, heavyset and sweating, his massive upper arms accentuated by the cutoff dago-tee he wore. A barbed wire tattoo circled his bicep.

  Jason’s gaze flicked across the man’s face and away. A big hand snaked out and clipped Jason’s nose. “Look at me when I talk to you.” Hugo, for that’s how Jason was now thinking of the man, crossed his bulging arms, settling into a waiting posture.

  Cinder block walls pressed close on either side of Jason. His captor blocked his forward view, although Jason didn’t believe it would differ much. A bare bulb hung directly above him from a low ceiling creating dim, threatening shadows on the cement floor. Clichéd interrogation room, he thought. What next, the evil dentist with palsied hands?

  The tenor came into Jason’s peripheral sight. Much smaller than his
partner, his step was lithe. He said, “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “Can I look away from him without losing my nose?”

  “He’s a funny one,” Hugo said.

  “Real sense of humor,” Tenor said. “Sure, check me out.”

  Jason did so with a wary glance. Wire-rim glasses and unruly blond hair gave the man a 70’s hippy look, but he was lean and muscular.

  “Why am I here?”

  “We got a little proposition for you,” Hugo said.

  “It’ll make you happy,” Tenor said.

  “Maybe bring closure to your miserable life,” Hugo said.

  “Who could refuse such a deal?” Tenor said.

  The interplay wore thin on Jason’s patience. He said, “What do you guys want, a deal on your delinquent tax payments? Sorry, not my department.”

  “See, I was right. He is a comedian,” Hugo said, and clapped his hands against the sides of Jason’s head, cupping both ears with a cymbal-like boom that stunned him into momentary unconsciousness.

  A burst of cold water directed at one of his ears brought him awake. Hugo held a garden hose that pounded his head with unrelenting force. Jason tried to change the angle where the flow hit him but Hugo compensated. With his hands bound behind him to a metal chair bolted to the floor, all Jason could do was close his eyes and try not to scream.

  With a screech of metal, the water stopped abruptly. “That’s enough,” Tenor said behind him. “He knows we mean business.”

  Tenor walked back into sight. “All right, here’s the deal. We’re going to show you a touching scene. Then we’ll tell you what we want.”

  Jason clamped his teeth together. The pain in his ears was intense. He felt a trickle of blood wind its way down his neck. Hugo may have ruptured an ear drum. Jason had no intention of going along with any deal these guys might offer, regardless of what they thought.