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“Would you like me to go with you?” asked Michelle.
“No, no, that’s my job,” said Mayhew firmly.
He gazed once more at Dobkin’s body. “I recruited Eric. Watched him grow into a fine officer.”
“I’m sure,” said Sean quietly.
“Did you find the truth?” asked Mayhew.
“What?” said Sean.
“Down in Portland? Did you find the truth?”
“I think we’re getting there.”
“This is a lot more complicated than it appeared initially to be, isn’t it?” said Mayhew shrewdly. “Bergin, Dukes, Agent Murdock. Edgar Roy is smack in the middle of all this, and I seriously doubt he is who we’ve been told he is.”
“I couldn’t disagree with any of your conclusions, sir,” said Sean diplomatically.
“Could you do me a favor?” asked Mayhew.
“Certainly.”
“When you do find who did this to Eric, I want to personally arrest them and see that they’re tried here for murder.”
“I’ll do my best, Colonel Mayhew. I’ll certainly do my best.”
“Thank you.” Mayhew turned and left.
He had to go and deliver the tragic news to a young woman with three kids and a fourth on the way.
CHAPTER
70
TWO NIGHTS LATER Edgar Roy could feel it coming, almost like how animals react so early to an approaching storm. He hunched down in the darkness, his face pressed against the flimsy mattress that he slept on each night. He heard footsteps. Routine guard patrols. Ordinary chatter. But he still knew.
The lights flickered, went out, and then came back on.
He scrunched down further into his bed, his feet hanging off one end of it. He didn’t care if the camera saw him moving now. It didn’t matter. The lights flickered again, like there was a storm outside and Mother Nature was playing games with Cutter’s electrical supply. Then the lights went back out and stayed out a long time.
He heard cries from the guards. He heard calls from some of the prisoners.
Feet were running.
Doors clanged open and then shut with a crash of steel on steel.
A siren started up.
Then the lights came back on. From somewhere there was an enormous rush of noise, like a jet plane powering up for takeoff.
The backup generator. Roy had heard it come on once before, only then it was a test. It had the power to run the entire facility, even the electrified fence. It was huge, contained in its own structure just outside the main building. It ran on fuel. They had enough fuel here for the generator to run the facility for an entire week. He had heard this, too, from conversations among the guards. They never expected anyone was listening or caring about this. But Roy listened and cared about everything. And he remembered it all. The generator was the fail-safe. After that there was nothing else.
The rush of power ceased. The instant it did the lights went back out. It was so black inside here that Roy could not even see his own hands. He looked out between the bars of his cell. Guards were hustling around with emergency lights. With no heat the poured concrete building quickly cooled. Roy started to shiver. He covered himself with the blanket. He tried to burrow down into the bed. But there was no hiding. Not really.
The caravan of black SUVs with government plates stormed the causeway and roared toward the entrance at Cutter’s. Six men jumped out and approached the first layer of guards. Behind them Cutter’s lay black and nearly invisible. The darkness was interrupted only by the weak moonlight
and stabs of narrow beams as guards with flashlights raced around trying to secure the perimeter. Battery-powered sirens shrieked.
