Wave of Terror by Jon Jefferson

Author:Jon Jefferson [Jefferson, Jon]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781542049870
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2018-02-26T22:00:00+00:00

“I can’t believe you tried to brain me,” Dawtry said again, O’Malley’s foot in one hand and a small spool of elastic bandage in the other.

“I started to brain you,” O’Malley pointed out. “Then I realized my error, and I stopped.”

With a dubious grunt, he finished wrapping her swollen ankle. “Lucky for me I said ‘Boyd’ just in the nick. The magic word that saved my skull. We both owe Boyd big-time. If he hadn’t given me the GPS coordinates for the seismometer locations, I wouldn’t have found you until too late. It would be you, not Iñigo, spattered on the rocks down there.”

“Ugh.” She shuddered. “Okay, so now we hightail it out of here. Where to? What’s next?”

Dawtry frowned. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.” Leaving her perched in the open back of the SUV, he jogged past the helicopter and continued to the edge of the cliff. Perilously close to the brink, he leaned over the precipice to study the rocks below.

O’Malley’s heart raced. Don’t you dare fall off, she telegraphed to him. After a moment, he turned and picked up the battery and the seismometer—The instruments of my deliverance, she thought—and then trudged up the slope. To her surprise, he stopped at the helicopter and set them in the cockpit before rejoining her.

“Hey,” she called, “what are you doing?”

“We can’t leave these here. I’ll fly offshore a ways, drop ’em in the ocean.”

“What? No!” He gave her a quizzical look; she responded by holding out her hands, palms up. “We need the data!”

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “In spite of everything that’s happened, you’re still hell-bent on this triangulation project?”

“Because of everything that’s happened,” she said. “Don’t you see? If we don’t set up this third gizmo, we miss our chance. Waste the opportunity.”

He stared at her; O’Malley couldn’t quite read the look. Was it admiration or exasperation?

After a moment, he said, “We shouldn’t set it up here. We have to put it somewhere else, where it won’t be found.”

She nodded. “I passed another spot a couple miles up the road. Not quite as good, because it’s farther inland, but probably fine.

Dawtry retrieved the rig from the chopper and set it in the back of the SUV, then helped O’Malley hobble to the passenger seat. Then he got behind the wheel and reached for the key. “What the hell?”

“What?”

“The brake pedal—it goes all the way to the floor.”

“Oh, I forgot to warn you about that. Iñigo sabotaged the brakes. You have to use the hand brake. And the transmission. Cut the ignition, if you have to stop on a dime.”

He turned toward her. “You’ve been driving these mountain roads with no brakes?”

“Just for the last twenty miles.” He stared, and she told him about her stop at the observatory and her encounter there with Iñigo, skipping over the part about their brief make-out session. “He tried to talk me out of poking around in this. I figured he just thought I was crazy, or a pain in the ass.

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