Delusional (Michael Bennett #18)

Prologue Four Months Ago

PROLOGUE

Four Months Ago

THOMAS WAYNE OWENS never worked on big explosives near his cabin. At least not anymore.

The scorch mark by his front door was a reminder of both the importance of keeping distance between different parts of his life and the unreliability of homemade explosives. The components he used were not commercial grade. He literally combined the chemicals himself.

Now he sat at his workbench on his porch.

A second bench ran the length of the cabin’s front wall behind him.

To anyone else it would look disorganized, with parts and tools covering every inch of the plywood surfaces.

But Owens knew exactly where everything was and exactly what it did. Especially the lethal stuff.

The issue today was not the summer heat but the bugs.

He’d made several electronic bug zappers and placed them at strategic points around the porch.

But the cabin, stuck in the middle of the woods near Millwood, New York, remained enticing for bloodsucking insects.

He found himself constantly shooing horseflies away from his neck and smashing mosquitoes on his bare arms.

He concentrated on his latest project, soldering new contacts for a device that would fit on a car.

He had no plans for it. This was just a chance to push himself.

At least it was a better use of his MIT master’s in engineering than building the squirrel trap he’d made yesterday.

Though to be fair, he now had two plump squirrels he intended to sauté for dinner tonight.

Owens liked to imagine he lived like Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber.

For instance, last year he fixed his neighbor’s tractor in exchange for a side of venison.

The deer meat lasted him the entire winter.

And he supplemented buying a bag of groceries a week with a diet that otherwise consisted of homegrown root vegetables and small animals he trapped.

But he also appreciated certain modern technological comforts. Not only in his explosives but also around the cabin.

The small monitor sitting on his workbench beeped.

He glanced over and saw a red Chevy pickup truck on the screen, easing up the gravel driveway.

He could tell by the vehicle that it was no one official.

He’d already denied some county land surveyor access to his property.

He didn’t want anyone else from the government bothering him. Ever.

The truck came into view and rumbled to a stop near the cabin. Two men and a young blond woman popped out of the cab. The woman couldn’t have been much more than twenty-two and wore a tight tank top and shorts.

The driver was close to Owens’s age, maybe thirty or so, clean-cut, with styled brown hair. He looked like he should be on a sailboat somewhere. His IZOD shirt had too many colors for Owens’s taste. His smile was wide but appeared fake as he looked up at the cabin.

The other man was giant. Over six foot five and well-built. His long, greasy black hair was roughly tucked behind his ears. Old acne scars marked his cheeks. He wore a camouflage T-shirt and was puffing on a little cigar.

Owens said, “Don’t smoke that thing here.” He didn’t raise his voice or even look up again from his soldering, but he noticed the man in the camo T-shirt flick the cigar onto the driveway.

The driver tried to defuse any tension. “You Tom Owens?” He had a faint accent. Like he was from Rhode Island or some other place near Boston.

Owens didn’t respond. His policy was not to talk to people until he understood who they were and why they were bothering him.

“I’m Ellis Warrenton. These are my friends, Kimmy and Pry.”

Owens didn’t think the enormous man looked like someone named Pry, or like someone who’d normally socialize with Ellis. He still gave no response.

Ellis said, “We saw a couple of your videos on YouTube.”

Owens interrupted him. “I only made those for some cash, so I could buy this place. I took them down.”

“Well, we saw ’em, and they were spectacular. You made that old van disintegrate. And the way you knocked that shed down was masterful. And all done with homemade explosives, right?”

Again, Owens didn’t respond, though he liked hearing the appreciation of his work. He rarely ever got any praise in person.

Ellis said, “Very impressive. Did the ads on YouTube really make you that much money?”

“Both videos got over twelve million views each. It was enough for what I needed. Why are you here?”

“I read the article you wrote for Tech and Society. I thought you had brilliant insights into how the government and Big Tech are working together to control all of us.”

The big man, Pry, stepped onto the porch and started rummaging around the other workbench.

Owens said, “Don’t bother anything.” He stopped short of ordering Pry off the porch.

The big man dropped a screwdriver back onto the crowded surface of the workbench. The hollow thud made Owens wince. He hated to have his things disturbed.

Kimmy came onto the porch and eased herself right next to Owens. He could smell her bubble gum. He didn’t say anything. He liked being this close to a woman. It certainly didn’t happen often.

Owens said, “What do you want? Or are you just wasting my time?”

Ellis stepped closer. “There are two types of people in the world. Those who want to blow it up and those who’re content to watch it slowly burn itself out. Which are you, Tom?”

Owens had to concede that he liked the sound of that. He looked up at the clean-cut man. “Why are you guys here?”

Ellis Warrenton said, “We’re kindred spirits, Tom. We’re interested in fighting the same system. We agree the government has too many ways to track us and banks are strangling society. Change follows chaos. Explosions cause chaos. With your help, we could make some changes.”

Owens didn’t even look over his shoulder at the big guy when he said, “Don’t touch that.”

Pry asked, “Why not?”

The flash and pop of the blasting cap he’d placed in an old milk carton made Kimmy jump to the other side of Owens. Ellis instinctively ducked down below the rail of the porch.

Owens calmly said, “That’s why.” He ignored the big man’s cry of pain, just like he ignored the man’s two fingers, which had landed on the porch a few feet away. He was curious about the reaction of Pry’s friends. They both kept their cool.

That was a good sign.