Free Dark Revelations by Duane Swierczynski, Anthony E. Zuiker

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chapter 18
     
    LABYRINTH
     
    I hang up the phone.
    Now that wasn’t too difficult at all.
    In record time, Charles Murtha is reborn, rehabilitated, and ready for the next step.
    I think about how he shrieked when he first heard my voice in his ear. Maybe he thought God was speaking to him? So-called captains of industry could be so easily spooked.
    And true, my voice was distorted electronically. Which can sound frightening. But I needed him to take me seriously—and we’ve all been raised with the expectation that people who abduct other people speak to you in electronically distorted voices.
    It’s all about expectations.

     
    So I focused on sounding as reassuring as possible. Hope is a powerful analgesic. If you have even an ounce of hope, you can survive virtually any experience, no matter how traumatic.
    I told him not to worry, that people were coming to save him right now.
    I told him, This really is out of your hands, so don’t waste time focusing on that. What you should focus on is slowing down your breathing. There’s not a lot of air down there. You’ll use it all up.
    Oh fuck . . . Oh God . . .
    No.
    No time for panic.
    Instead, I told him to focus on the lesson.

     
    It’s not long before Charles Murtha, one of the richest oil executives in this region, has it right and can recite it from memory. He seems absurdly grateful to appreciate the chance to actually do something after hanging in that pipe for so long. Like so many executives he is eager to please, to prove his worth in some kind of arena, even one as dingy and desperate as this.
    So before long he is saying it with true gusto, as if he believes the words coming out of his mouth.
    Oh, from your lips to the world’s ears, Charles.

     
    I am glad Charles Murtha learned his lesson.
    For soon we would be past the point of no return. Even if any member of local law enforcement were to figure out my riddle, there wouldn’t be enough time to get a maintenance crew down to the bowels of the resort to free poor Mr. Charles Murtha before . . .
    Well, I didn’t want to tell him any of that. Especially considering what would be happening to his body.
    He was pretty touchy as it was.

chapter 19
     
    DARK
     
    A burly driver raced Dark away from the abandoned movie palace and back to the airport, pausing only to flash his cell phone at a security checkpoint before being allowed to drive directly onto the tarmac. Seems that Blair really got off on those things, because he apparently passed them out like party favors.
    There was no question as to which plane he’d be boarding. A Gulfstream was finishing up its fueling sequence. Dark stepped out of the car and saw another man approaching the stairway at the same time. His thin frame was wrapped in a dingy wool Irish Garda coat. Even though he had a youthful face, his skull was topped with unruly white hair, like a Q-tip that had been sent to the electric chair. The man slowed his pace when he saw Dark, and switched the duffel bag to the opposite hand.
    “At long last, Steve Dark, in the flesh,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Deckland O’Brian.”
    Dark nodded, shook the man’s bony, rough hand.
    “Hey, didn’t you bring any luggage from L.A.?”
    “I travel light.”
    “Not even a book for the flight? I can’t go anywhere without a good read. Anyway, after you, my friend.”
    Dark ascended the stairs and stepped into the wildly expensive Gulfstream jet. All luxury details, however, had been stripped away in favor of utility: workstations outfitted with touch-screen computers, racks of weapons and uniforms, and even a small forensics lab.
    Standing in front of a weapons bay was a tall, broad man with a head that looked like it could be used as a battering ram. Instead of hair, an elaborate gothic tattoo ran over his bony pate and down the back of his neck, disappearing behind his flack jacket. He was assembling a Heckler & Koch MP5A3 with a tactical tri-rail.
    “Dark, this