Blue Hope: (Book 2) (Red Hope) Read online

  A lightning storm was approaching from the west. The shadows of the backyard were illuminated by the occasional flashes from the storm. No rain yet, just lightning and loud booms.

  After examining every last ounce of his former life, he grabbed his suitcase and leather jacket and dragged them into the garage, walking right past the security alarm without turning it back on. The rain drops were just starting.

  He opened the hood of the Porsche and stuffed the suitcase into the front trunk. He put the leather jacket in the passenger footwell and then sat down in the bucket seat. Adam started the engine and backed out of his driveway. He gunned the engine and tore off out of his neighborhood, heading west toward the new NASA Jennings Fort Worth Space Center. Conveniently, the NASA facility was only a few miles from Chris’s new house up on Mount Olympus — a very conspicuous neighborhood.

  First things first though — Adam needed an extra shot of courage for the next part of his trip. From all the movies he’d ever seen, a quick stop at a saloon was just what the doctor ordered. Unfortunately, there weren’t any saloons nearby, so he stopped at a bar located between his house in Wanigas and the side of town that housed both NASA and Chris Tankovitch’s new home. He sat in his car, contemplating the best plan of action.

  I’ll just wait out this storm with a drink or two, Adam thought. Or ten.

  He stepped out of the Porsche and walked toward the bar, pulling his jacket tightly closed to keep out the driving rain. A sudden clap of thunder made him wince as he opened the door and disappeared into the dimly lit establishment.

  CHAPTER 50

  Two hundred miles east of Fiji

  Pacific Ocean

  Captain Nadino wobbled back and forth, just trying to stand upright in front of Alexis’s cabin door on the research boat. He knocked on the door.

  “Be right there!” Alexis yelled from inside the cabin.

  The door opened, showing Alexis in her work mode. She had a pencil behind her ear, a laptop balanced on her left arm, and was typing with her right hand.

  “You are working hard,” the captain said. “I have an update for you — I would’ve called, but the cabin phones aren’t working.”

  “Good news?”

  “Not exactly,” Captain Nadino said, furrowing his eyebrows. “There’s a massive storm passing over the northern end of the Tonga Trench right now and we’re going to hold back for at least 36 to 48 hours.”

  Alexis looked disappointed.

  “We have a lot of people back at NASA waiting to find out what is hidden at that ancient location.”

  “I am even more disappointed than you are, believe me,” he said. “But our mantra on the Deep SEAK Explorer is always safety first.”

  “But there are no waves once we go under the water,” Alexis complained.

  “That is true, but first we have to get the submarine into the water. We don’t just kick it overboard. It is very dangerous to launch the sub in a swelling ocean. When that crane lifts it up and drops it over the edge, the last thing you want is for the sub to swing out of control. It could slam into the ship and be ruined.”

  Alexis nodded her head — she understood.

  “Yes, better safe than sorry,” she admitted. “So we can get going again in 36 hours?”

  Captain Racine nodded his head with a look of pain on his face.

  “Maybe. More like 48 hours. Could be less. Depends on Mother Nature.”

  “Whatever,” Alexis said. “This seems like a strong boat and boats are meant to float. I don’t like waiting, but it’s your call.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  CHAPTER 51

  Chris Tankovitch’s exclusive neighborhood

  Fort Worth, Texas

  Adam Alston manhandled his Porsche through the fat rain drops falling down on Fort Worth this evening. The storm would not let up.

  It was just after midnight. The rainfall made it impossible for Adam to read the street signs. He stopped the car and stared at the GPS screen. The little glowing star symbol was at the end of Gran Delito Drive. Unfortunately, the voice guidance was in French — a result of his drunken fingers fumbling through the touch-screen controls. All this technology and he still had to use it like a paper map. His eyes scanned outside the window looking for a road sign.

  “Where the hell is it?” he asked with quiet resignation. “There’s no sign for Gran Delito Drive.”

  Adam slammed his fists on the steering wheel. He stared over into the passenger footwell and then looked back out into the rain. Tears were streaming down his face. He wiped them away with a balled-up fist.

  With his finger on the GPS touch-screen, he moved the map around until he figured out where he was in relation to the glowing star.

  Adam ducked his head to look out through the rainy side window. Glistening in the occasional flash of lightning, he saw the sign for Gran Delito Drive.

  “Bingo!”

  Adam gunned the engine and turned onto the road he’d spent twenty minutes searching for. He slowed down as he approached the end of the street. All of the lights were out at the last house.

  “There it is. Seven nine nine,” he whispered.

  Adam turned off the headlights and coasted into the driveway of the large single-story stucco home. He shut the engine off and reached into the passenger footwell. After some rummaging, he pulled out a flashlight and unwrapped his leather jacket to reveal a twelve-gauge shotgun.

  Adam kicked open the car door and stepped out. He didn’t bother to close the door — he didn’t plan on returning.

  Adam wandered over to the right side of the house in search of a gate to the back yard.

  Wrong side.

  He walked back across the waterlogged front yard again to the other side. The black wrought-iron gate was lit up by a floodlight, highlighting the torrents of rain. The storm grew even more intense. He walked up to the gate and opened it, disappearing into the shadows of the back yard.

  Adam turned on his flashlight and stumbled slowly along the flat stone walkway that circled the house. Step by step he inched toward the back corner where he knew the master bedroom must be. The combination of rain and tears made it hard to see. Adam wiped his eyes again and shook his head. The five shots of whiskey were still raging in his veins.

  He reached the window of a bedroom and slowly raised the flashlight. The beam fell through the glass and found the side of a bed. He lifted the light higher. The beam fell across the sleeping face of an old friend; the former NASA director, Chris Tankovitch. The balance of power between them had shifted significantly since they last met.

  Adam lifted the shotgun and set the end of the barrel on the window sill, pointed straight at Chris. Adam was struggling now — shaking. The barrel of the gun was plinking on the window glass.

  This is the right thing to do, Adam thought to himself.

  He wondered what Yeva would think of him. He paused for a moment.

  Adam stood there in the pouring rain with the flashlight in his left hand and the shotgun in his right hand. Both shook uncontrollably. The fluttering flashlight caused Chris to stir from his slumber. His eyes jolted open, illuminated by the flashlight beam.

  Adam, in his inebriated stupor, was surprised and he panicked. His finger slid on the trigger.

  Pull it, his alcohol-addled brain told him.

  Just beyond Chris, another set of eyes rose up from the bed, staring out the window. Adam stood breathless as Connie stared out the window at him, her eyes squinting at the bright light. She tilted even more, leaning on her pillow, not realizing what the bright light was coming from.

  “Oh my God,” Adam whispered.

  He dropped the flashlight and ran toward the front yard. The barrel of the gun banged on the fence as he ran through the gate opening, spinning him around.

  He dropped the gun in the grass.

  “Dammit,” Adam yelled.

  He saw lights turning on at the back of the house. He reached down to grab the shotgun and it fired, blasting a
hole in the fence. Adam picked up the shotgun and sprinted to the Porsche. He threw the shotgun in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. The car was filled with inches of water now, having been left open. He pushed the start button and nothing happened.

  “What!?” Adam yelled. His drunk mind was so panicked right now. He looked out the window through the rain and saw the key fob sitting on the sidewalk near where he’d dropped the shotgun. Adam leaped out of the car and grabbed it, sliding and falling in the rain — his arm saving him from collapsing on his tailbone. He ran back to the car and jumped in.

  The front porch light came on.

  Adam gunned the engine, tearing through Chris’s front yard and into the street. Adam floored it and the Porsche screamed away, disappearing into a wall of rain. At that moment, all of the power to the neighborhood went out, leaving Mount Olympus in total darkness.

  Twenty minutes later, the front door of the Alston house slammed open. Adam came stumbling in, leaving a trail of muddy footprints. He kicked off his shoes and collapsed into a corner in the hallway, breathless and upset about the evening. His marriage, his life, everything was now a wreck. He took off his wedding ring and flung it down the hallway.

  “My precious,” he said sarcastically. Adam laughed at his own joke for a moment, then sadness took over his face.

  Sleep it off, he thought. Sleep tonight off. Alcohol always makes people do stupid things, especially when they’re upset. You should’ve known that.

  His eyes started to drift off, but they popped open again.

  “Dammit, almost forgot,” he said.

  Adam went back out into the rain and drove his car into the open garage. He stared at the pond of water sitting in the footwell.

  “What a mess.”

  Adam grabbed the shotgun and wiped all the rainwater off before it started to rust. He went back into the house and returned the shotgun to its hiding place in the armoire.

  Crushed by exhaustion, Adam sat down on the edge of the bed, waterlogged clothes and all. He fell backward, spread-eagle onto the mattress and fell asleep instantly. He groaned a little bit and rolled over, falling off the bed and slamming into the ground and dresser. He snored himself into oblivion.

  Adam reached the depth of sleep that remembers neither dream nor rest. He recalled shutting his eyes while sitting on the edge of the bed and then he remembered waking up to blinking lights. Flashing red and blue lights lit up the windows like flares. They competed with the sunbeams zooming through the windows.

  The flashing lights weren’t stopping. Adam hoisted himself up onto his elbows and felt his headache kick into action. He vomited into his dress shoes at the side of the bed. He stood up and stumbled into the kitchen. The flashing lights lit up the entire house thanks to the panoramic windows in the living room. Adam drank a huge glass of water. He was in no hurry to see what was waiting for him outside.

  He tucked his shirt in and walked confidently to the front of the house. Adam opened the door and walked out.

  Oh, he thought, with a look of confusion.

  An ambulance was parked in front of his neighbor’s house. Mr. Rodriguez and his family had lived next to the Alstons for ten years. Neither family had kids when they first moved in so many years ago. They’d been good neighbors and occasionally babysat for each other’s kids. They had one daughter named Sophie who was somewhere around 9 years old, maybe 10 — Adam could never keep track. She often came over to play with Adam’s two children.

  Adam wondered if Mr. Rodriguez was having an emergency. He walked across the yard through his unmowed tall grass toward Mr. Rodriguez’s house. A paramedic emerged from the front door and ambled to the ambulance to grab some medical supplies, then returned just as slowly.

  Mr. Rodriguez walked out the front door and saw Adam.

  “Adam!”

  “What’s going on?” Adam asked, trying his best to not act hung over.

  “It’s awful, man. Sophie, my little angel, she got so sick so quick,” he paused. “She said her left side was hurting for a few days and she was getting hypoglycemic and all that.”

  “Is she diabetic?” Adam asked.

  Mr. Rodriguez put his hand up over his mouth to hide his emotions. He was freaking out.

  “No, we were at the doctor yesterday and they said she wasn’t diabetic, but they were going to have a CT scan to see if it was something more serious.”

  “What’s the ambulance for?”

  “Overnight she was just going crazy with pain. Her left side hurt so bad, I mean she…” he paused as a stretcher came out with the fragile little body on it. Adam could see her long curly brown hair. She was clutching a teddy bear in her arms. The paramedics wheeled the stretcher down the driveway and hoisted it into the ambulance.

  “Hi, Sophie!” Adam said instinctively, regretting his thoughtlessness immediately. She didn’t respond.

  The surrounding yards were filled with neighbors, all watching with wide eyes even though most had never met the Rodriguez family — neighbors twice-removed are complete strangers.

  “Oh Jesus, there goes my baby,” Mr. Rodriguez cried.

  Mrs. Rodriguez came out of the house and over to her husband. They exchanged some quiet words and she stepped up into the ambulance to go with her daughter.

  Mr. Rodriguez looked back at Adam.

  “I’m driving down to the hospital in my truck. Pray for us.”

  “Will do. She’s going to be fine,” Adam said, instantly regretting his misjudgment of how serious the situation was.

  The ambulance drove away with the lights on, but no siren. Mr. Rodriguez followed in his truck. The other neighbors returned to their boring lives.

  Adam walked back into his house and only then realized that he was missing a shoe. His clothes were covered with dried mud and his shirt was torn.

  With the alcohol out of his system, Adam decided his best plan of action was to leave for Africa immediately to catch up with the expedition team there. He had to get away from here pronto.

  After a long shower, Adam called the airline to arrange for his flight. He had a delay and used that time to clean up the muddy footprints and siphon out the footwells of his Porsche. He ran a heater and a fan in the cabin of his car for an hour before putting it all away. The seats were still wet, so he put plastic trash-bags on them before getting in.

  Adam’s Porsche was the smelliest one-month old Porsche that ever existed. The mildew odor was already overwhelming, so he drove toward the airport with the windows open.

  After an hour of traffic, Adam arrived at the remote parking lot at DFW airport. He pulled his suitcase out of the trunk and dragged it over to the courtesy bus.

  A man dressed in a business suit stood next to him. Adam noticed that the guy couldn’t stop wiggling his knees.

  “So…”, the man said. “I’m going to Chicago. Where are you off to today?”

  Adam smiled.

  “If all goes well, I’ll be in Angola in eighteen hours.”

  The man looked impressed.

  “Whoa,” he said. “That’s one of those places where there’s a hundred ways to die.”

  “Thank you for the kind words,” Adam laughed. “Good luck to you, too.”

  CHAPTER 52

  Chris Tankovitch’s house

  Fort Worth, Texas

  A group of police stood huddled near the back of Chris Tankovitch’s house. They talked about the evening’s failed burglary. One of the officers held a plastic evidence-bag containing the flashlight that the burglar had dropped.

  Inside the house sat a frightened Connie curled up in a ball on the leather La-Z-Boy chair. She heard the door open, turning her head to see Chris walk in.

  “I’m glad we sent the kids to my mom’s house last night,” Connie said.

  “Me too,” Chris admitted. “That was a lucky break.”

  “Did the video cameras get anything?”

  Chris calculated before answering.

  “Unfortunately, no,” Chr
is said. “The power kept going out and the camera recorder is set on a loop that records over itself. Normally I get a day or two before it loops, but every time the power went out last night, it started over. There’s no sign it caught the burglar or his car.”

  “How did he get through the neighborhood gate?”

  “Well, since the power was going out, the HOA decided to leave the gate open for the night. Otherwise, emergency vehicles couldn’t get in.”

  Connie looked at Chris with disappointment.

  “So we have no idea what the criminal looked like?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Chris said, shaking his head. “And the police said they don’t run fingerprints unless somebody died.”

  Connie let out a sigh. “That’s really frustrating.”

  “I know, but I’ll put everything on battery backups so we won’t have that problem again.”

  Chris walked over to Connie to give her a comforting hug, but she pulled away.

  CHAPTER 53

  Africa

  (Twenty hours later)

  “The terrain looks a lot different from this altitude!” Adam yelled over the sound of the small airplane engine.

  “Absolutely,” answered his guide named Jeffrey. “From this height you don’t see all the poverty. This is one of the last remaining conflict zones on the whole continent.”

  The two men wore parachutes on their back and were staring out the windows of their propeller-driven Cessna 208 Caravan. It zoomed high above Zambia into the edge of Angola, south of the border near the Democratic Republic of the Congo.

  “How far ahead is the rest of my group?” Adam asked loudly.

  “They’re about a day and a half into the drivable portion of the journey right now.”

  “Ohhhh,” Adam replied. “Why can’t we just catch up by car?”