The Midas Code

“If he sets that thing off in DC,” Grant said, “it’ll turn Washington into a ghost town for the next twenty years.”

“Maybe he’s got a grudge against the government.”

“Yeah. He might hate paying taxes even more than I do.”

Tyler placed the geolabe in his backpack, then paused before speaking. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing not calling the FBI into this?”

Grant shrugged. “Man, I don’t know. It could go either way. They do have more resources than we do, even with Aiden’s snooping powers and Miles’s connections. On the other hand, I think you’re right that Orr would find out. The longer he thinks we’re on our own, the longer he doesn’t do anything to the general or to Stacy’s sister.”

“I know. And I know my father’s not going to sit idly by while they hold him hostage. Keeping Orr occupied could give him a chance to break out.”

“You think he’ll try something?”

Tyler nodded. “If we can’t find him first. But Aiden said there’s no way to track the videos Orr is emailing to us. They’re routed through three different anonymizers in Eastern Europe.”

He didn’t have to go through the rest. Grant had seen Aiden’s email. Gordian Engineering was one of the top forensic accident-investigation firms in the world. Miles had assembled a team of volunteers close to Tyler and gone out to the site of the ferry truck explosion to gather evidence, first calling the local sheriff to notify them that they had gotten a tip about the blast.

Under the sheriff’s guidance, they had sifted through the wreckage and found nothing that would lead back to Orr. The truck had been stolen the day before, and all the bomb components could be found at any Radio Shack. The binary explosive was also impossible to track. Without any other leads and with no injuries, the sheriff was already concluding that it was the work of yahoos who got a kick out of blowing up stuff.

Aiden’s efforts to sniff out Orr through the use of his electronic communications had been no more fruitful. Orr’s cell phone was a disposable. The Web site for tracking the geolabe was set up with a false identity. Unless they got a lucky break, their only opportunity to free Sherman and Carol would be to nab Orr himself.

“All right,” Tyler said, hoisting the backpack. “Let’s get back to the hotel. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

When they reached their suite, they found Stacy in the living room reading over the Archimedes Codex yet again.

“Does it work?” she asked eagerly.

Tyler smiled. “Like a Swiss watch.”

“I’m going to hit the hay,” Grant said. “I’ll set the alarm for seven. I’ll need a good breakfast.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving Tyler alone with Stacy. Tyler set the backpack with the geolabe on the table and sat down next to her. Suddenly, the pace of the past few days caught up with him. He slumped against the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

“Poor guy,” she said. “You look beat.”

Tyler turned his head toward her and cracked his lids. “You look pretty alert.”

“I took a nap while you were gone.”

He twisted his neck around, the muscles sore from bending over the geolabe for four hours straight with no break.

She pushed him up. “Here. Let me work on those knots.”

Before he could argue, Stacy had grabbed his shoulders. For a small woman, she had strong hands. Tyler had to admit that it felt damn good. He leaned into her thumbs, which found the most gnarled spots.

After five minutes of work, the stress wasn’t completely gone, but his muscles were no longer cramped. Tyler leaned back into the cushion and looked at Stacy. Her eyes searched his.

“What?” she said.

“This situation is tough on you, isn’t it?” she said.

“And it’s not tough on you?”

“Of course it is, but I have faith it’ll all turn out for the best.”

“So do I.”

She casually brushed his hair. “No, you don’t. You want to make it turn out all right. That’s why it’s so hard for you. You hate not being in control. I saw you during that car chase on the autobahn. You were in your element. You were certain it would go exactly as you planned, and even if it didn’t, you had confidence that you could react to whatever was thrown at you.”

Tyler looked at her but said nothing.

“That story about getting injured by that horse when you were a kid,” she continued. “You weren’t afraid of being killed. You were afraid of being paralyzed.”

Tyler was shocked at how close Stacy had gotten to the truth. But paralysis wasn’t his fear. Miles was proof that life didn’t end in a wheelchair. A coma was what scared him, the idea that he would be a vegetable the rest of his life, dependent on others, contributing nothing.

“Why are you telling me this?” Tyler asked her.

Stacy put both her hands on his. “Because I want you to know that you’re not alone in this. One way or another, we’re going to get through this. All of us.”

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, and Tyler got tunnel vision. He was focused solely on Stacy’s bright blue eyes. His breathing came to a standstill.