Steel Force

by Geoffrey Saign

  Stopping at their parked rental Jeep, Steel turned to her with his hand out. Feeling like an underage teenager handing over contraband, she dug the keys out of her purse and handed them over.

  Steel unlocked the doors and got in behind the wheel. Francis climbed into the back seat.

  Christie stood next to the front passenger door. She wanted to put her hand on the door handle and get in, but she didn’t know if she needed permission. Or if she wanted it. Steel had control over the situation and she still had no idea what the situation involved. Damn him.

  Powering down the window, Steel looked at her, his face neutral. “They’re after you too. You can go to the police, but I don’t think it will make you safe. You’re on your own.”

  He started to power the window up, and she blurted, “Wait!”

  She looked in at him and shivered, not sure if she believed him, not wanting to. Questions were on her tongue, but he wouldn’t answer any of them now. “Whoever is after you and the friar want me dead too, Steel. We’re in this together.”

  “Who do you report to?” His voice was hard.

  “Danker, but he obviously sold me out. If he’s involved with those men, he’s been lying to me.” His eyes showed he didn’t care so she added, “You can have my phone. I’m an extra gun and I know how to use it. I just want to stay alive.” He still didn’t look convinced, and she continued, “Do you know how many people are after you?”

  He started the car, backed up two feet, and then stopped. “Get in.”

  She got in and slammed the door, and then passed her phone to him. He pocketed it.

  He drove through the lot and parallel parked in front of the Four Season’s lobby entrance. Keeping the Jeep running, he put it in park. “I’ll be right back.” He left and entered the hotel.

  Christie pulled out her SIG Sauer and rested it on her thigh as she inspected the lot, watching pedestrians and drivers of nearby cars. She looked for the bearded man. Five-ten, two-hundred-fifty pounds, early thirties, well-muscled, square jaw, neatly trimmed black hair, beard, and mustache.

  Steel quickly returned, both gun cases in hand. He handed hers over, and she set it on the floor between her legs. She holstered her gun.

  “Where are we going, Steel?” He didn’t answer so she said with force, “What was that all about at the hotel? You said you were going to tell me everything.”

  He remained silent. His eyes said Take it or leave it. As he drove he glanced ahead and out the side windows.

  Christie assessed the friar in the back seat. Five-foot-three, one-hundred-ten pounds, mid-forties, a small narrow face under a bowl haircut. She sensed emotional strength in his diminutive body. He sat with his small hands folded together in his lap, his dark eyes intent on her.

  “I am afraid too,” he said quietly.

  Surprised, she faced forward. The three of them sat in silence. They were soon on the Mokulele Highway, headed toward Kahului. A few white clouds drifted across the sky ahead of them.

  Christie’s jaw clenched. She considered asking Steel to let her out, but his statement that unknown killers were targeting her kept her silent. She couldn’t come up with any reason why anyone would want her dead, except by association with Steel. Her thoughts returned to Danker. Instinctively she knew the man had sold her out somehow. The who and why could only be explained by Steel, and his eyes showed he didn’t trust her.

  Halfway to Kahului, Francis said politely, “I have a very important public talk tomorrow in the late afternoon at the Grand Wailea that I cannot miss.”

  Steel glanced in the rearview mirror. “I’ll get you there.”

  “Gracias.”

  They arrived at the airport in less than an hour. Christie wondered what Steel had in mind. He parked the Jeep and they got out. Steel kept his door open and faced inside the vehicle.

  She watched him pull the silencer off the Glock and place it under the front driver’s seat. He then pulled out his gun case, opened it, and emptied the gun’s ammo into a small plastic box. Placing the gun and ammo inside, he put the OTF knife in too, locked the case, and looked at her.

  While he watched, Christie placed her gun and ammo into her gun case, locked it, took the case in hand, and locked the Jeep door. She walked with him and Francis into the terminal, up to the ticket counter of Hawaiian Airlines.

  “The next flight to Kauai,” said Steel.

  “Number of tickets?”

  Steel turned to Christie.

  She shoved her hands in her pockets and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Three,” she said.

  “Two items to check.” He declared their guns and showed his permit.

  Christie showed the airline clerk her permit too.

  Steel paid for the tickets. Turning to them, he gave them their boarding passes. “Go to the gate.” Then he strode away.

  Christie glared at his back, but then walked with the friar to the gate. She couldn’t understand how the friar could remain so calm after an attack on his life. “What happened at the hotel, Francis? I saw bullet holes in the door.”

  “A man shot my two guards. Steel saved me.” He paused. “The killer escaped.”

  “So two men are after us.”

  “Jack is a friend of yours?” asked Francis.

  “Francis, do you know what’s going on? Why those men want to kill you?” Her shoulders tightened. Without Steel beside them she felt exposed and unprotected.

  Francis shook his head and his face paled. “No. I’m waiting for your friend to tell me.”

  She pursed her lips. They both were.

  CHAPTER 67

  Steel made himself visible, leisurely walking through the terminal. The Hawaiian and the bearded man didn’t appear.

  Still it would be easy enough for someone to figure out where he, Christie, and Francis were going. And the killers could use another interisland flight service or even charter a private plane to Kauai.

  For an hour he sat in silence with Francis and Christie, waiting for their flight. He wanted to go somewhere free of crowds. The killers didn’t want publicity and he wanted to make them feel safe, even bold. He also wanted to take their pursuers to an area of his choosing, one he knew from a previous trip to Hawaii.

  When considering who had sent the killers, he believed it had to be Sorenson and Torr. He decided to kill the general and CEO as soon as possible.

  They finally boarded the plane. There was still no sign of their pursuers. He didn’t expect any.

  A number of times during the flight his attention strayed to Christie, who sat rigidly across the aisle from him. Her appearance on the second floor of the Grand Wailea could only signify one thing—she had followed him. And that could only mean she had been playing him from the very beginning, using the Paktika Ops as an excuse to get close to him. Danker must have directed her to find evidence to prosecute him for blowing the Komodo Op.

  Disappointment and feelings of betrayal remained, but some part of him had known all along he couldn’t completely trust Christie. Unable to admit that to himself before, he still couldn’t deny how hard it was to meet her eyes now.

  A few times he studied her, seeing the corners of her mouth pulled down. None of that swayed his judgment. He knew her betrayal cut deeper because of what had happened with Carol. If he wasn’t careful his emotions would take him to a place he wasn’t sure he could recover from. Losing Rachel, Carol, and his career had left him with little to hang on to. Christie had kept him afloat.

  Yet he was glad Christie’s charade was exposed. He wanted his life free of deception and hidden agendas, conditions he had operated under during the last year with Carol while serving in Blackhood Ops.

  Even though it appeared that Christie was also a target of the killers, he wouldn’t confide in her any more than necessary. Francis needed to survive. Steel felt it was his debt to the friar and he was wil
ling to pay it. He wouldn’t let Christie jeopardize Francis.

  If at any point her presence endangered them or posed more risk, or if she tried to make contact with anyone, he would leave her behind. If it came down to it, Steel realized that Francis was worth dying for. His integrity was the one thing he had left.

  They landed at the Lihue Airport and picked up their gun cases. He made a quick call to Kergan. Voice mail. After joining Christie and Francis at the car rental, he chose a Honda Civic. He dawdled for a while before he picked it up.

  Christie stared at him, but he gave her no explanation. An hour later he was satisfied. They left the Lihue Airport and drove north along the east coast on the Kuhio Highway.

  Evening approached. Ominous clouds covered the upper reaches of the inland Waialeale mountain range and the ocean turned dark blue. The sky ahead of them on the north coast was overcast.

  It was typical that the north coast of the island received more rain, even if the rest of the island was sunny. There was a good chance the sunshine would be gone by the time they reached their destination. Steel hoped for rain.

  He gave a quick glance at the friar. Francis trusted him with his life. The friar also trusted his silence for the time being. Steel was glad for that, for there was little he could give in the way of comforting words.

  Their choices were to go to the police or act on their own. Going to the police would delay things, but it wouldn’t give any long-term safety. And Steel feared the friar would be much more vulnerable the next day at his public talk if the killers remained at large.

  A thin line of traffic trailed them. A number of those cars had followed them from the airport. He had no idea if the killers were in one of them, but his instincts told him they were.

  When he reached a long stretch of road with no visible turnoffs, he abruptly pulled off the road onto the shoulder. He checked his rearview mirror. A quarter mile back a green minivan also pulled over to the side.

  He waited five minutes before driving back into traffic, not surprised when the minivan did too.

  Christie had watched her sideview mirror, and she turned to him. “They’re following us. I hope you know what you’re doing, Steel.”

  CHAPTER 68

  Steel wanted to cheer when the first raindrops pattered against the windshield, even if it was just a sprinkle. The Kuhio highway eventually turned west with the island’s coastline.

  At one point the road curved slightly inland, through Hanalei Valley, where they observed bison chewing grass, their massive shaggy heads bent down. By then a steady drizzle forced Steel to turn on the lights and windshield wipers. As he drove, Steel visualized his plan, going over variations of it until he settled on what felt like the best course of action.

  The road followed the edge of the coast all the way to Ke’e State Beach Park, where it dead-ended at the beach and the hilly tree line of the northern Na Pali Coast. The ocean was gray, covered by three-foot waves tipped with froth.

  Steel pulled the car into the parking lot and took a quick look around. The beach was empty, save for a pair of white-bodied Laysan albatrosses standing in the rain. Only one car was in the parking lot.

  From the trailhead three hikers exited the Kalalau Trail, which paralleled the Na Pali Coast. Steel guessed they were the last of the day hikers. No one would start up the trail this late in the day. And those who wanted to hike to the Hanakapi’ai beach, two miles up the path, would have started much earlier.

  After the hikers left in their car, Steel brought out his gun and tucked it into his shorts. Christie holstered hers. Steel exited the car, Francis and Christie followed.

  Christie wrapped her arms around her chest. Like Steel, she wore shorts and a short-sleeved top. She held an umbrella in one hand but didn’t open it.

  Francis looked warmer in his ankle-length robe, and he pulled up his hood.

  Steel led them to the four-foot-wide dirt trail. Scrub grasses and tall ferns were interrupted by low straggly palms and hala trees.

  Farther inland the forest was thicker and lush, the skyline broken by high palms, wispy kiawe trees with thin curving trunks, tall clumps of thin bamboo, and sturdier eucalyptus trees with their long, narrow leaves.

  At the trailhead Steel motioned to Francis. “Go as fast as you can and don’t stop. We’ll follow.”

  Francis glanced at both of them, his face wet with rain, and then hurriedly trudged up the hill.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Christie.

  Steel turned away from her to view the parking lot. “Set an ambush farther along the trail. Stay with Francis. I’ll catch up.”

  She looked at him, lips pursed, and then at the rocky path which cut through high mounds of plants, leading upward and quickly winding out of sight. Rivulets of water ran over the muddy ground. Francis was already out of sight.

  Steel knew none of it looked inviting.

  She turned and left, walking fast.

  Backing up twenty yards into the tree line, he squatted. While he waited, his gaze wandered to the small bay beyond the white sand beach. Rachel and Carol had snorkeled at the coral reef there several years ago. Afterward, Rachel talked for hours about the brightly colored reef fish. The image brought a lump to his throat, but for once he was glad for the memory.

  Ten minutes later the green minivan pulled up. The Hawaiian, the stocky bearded man, and another taller man got out.

  The third man surprised Steel. He had expected two. Rising, he started up the trail at a slow run so he wouldn’t trip and fall. The running brought stabs of pain to his calf on every stride. Christie was out of sight.

  It would only be minutes before the three men surmised their targets weren’t on the beach or following the shoreline along the coast. The absence of tracks and places to hide would ensure that.

  That would leave only the trail. Maybe if they were lucky they would have a five-minute head start. It would have to do. If he was healthy and alone, he would have headed off-trail. But since he was injured and protecting Francis and Christie, everything became more complex, tightening his stomach. Yet his plan felt solid and workable.

  The cloudy sky would bring an early nightfall. Yet they had enough time to make it to the stream he had in mind. The Hawaiian and the bearded man were good so he assumed the third man would be equally competent. He needed something to give himself an edge. The stream would have to do.

  He knew these men would come for them without hesitation. It seemed a perfect situation for their pursuers. No witnesses, nobody within hearing distance, and no obstacles—except to catch them on the trail. He counted on all of it to make the killers a little careless and overeager. It was the central piece of his plan. They would expect a trap but come anyway. It’s what he would do.

  In minutes he spotted Christie and Francis a half mile farther along the path. He waited for Christie to look back, and then gave a quick wave.

  They both paused and turned, their faces taut. Francis’ dark hair was plastered on his head and his soggy habit hung from his small shoulders, its lower fringe muddied.

  Christie held her gun against her leg, her hair limp on her shoulders. Her soaked clothing clung to her body. She had the umbrella open and tried to shield herself and Francis with it. They both had muddy feet.

  He caught up to them and looked at Francis. “Can you run in your sandals?”

  The friar looked at the wet trail that led up and around the next hill. “I can try.”

  “Do it,” he said. “Don’t risk a fall, but don’t slow down.”

  Francis turned and jogged up the trail.

  “How many, Steel?” Christie closed the umbrella.

  “Three.” He grimaced. “There’s a stream you’ll come to eventually. Cross it and wait in the trees on the other side. We’ll be safe there.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to buy us
some time.”

  “Wonderful.” She didn’t wait for a reply, and instead ran at a careful pace up the path.

  Francis had already reached the top of the hill.

  Steel wiped moisture off his face and looked back along the trail. From the trailhead the path wound back and forth through the trees and ferns like a snake. The section closest to him swung inland a quarter mile around a small, narrow ravine that cut like a sliver between the rugged cliffs that sloped down to the ocean.

  He glanced up the path that Christie had just summited. From that position he could look directly down the trail, as planned. He would also be able to see the men as they moved across the far side of the ravine. It should be relatively easy to get rid of one or two of them. Whoever was left he would eliminate at the stream with ease.

  He jogged up the hill, slipping several times in the mud. To his immediate left a small vertical cliff bordered the trail. To the right was the ravine.

  The cool air chilled his skin. It was nearly winter, the temperature in the low sixties. Even in the tropics exposure to wind and rain could be deadly. None of them could stay out in this weather too long or hypothermia might be a problem.

  Cresting the trail, he saw that it quickly led downhill again. At the bottom of the decline there was a turn, and Francis and Christie were already around it, out of sight.

  The rugged cliffs of the coastline stretched east and west from his vantage point. At the top of the trail, on its inner edge, he selected a large boulder to squat behind, setting the Glock on his knee.

  He scanned the trail across the ravine and waited.

  CHAPTER 69

  Christie was several steps behind Francis and paced herself to his speed. The friar had a difficult time running with his habit, but at least he looked warm. A shiver ran through her. She would have to keep moving to keep her body heat up and wished she was dressed better. She also regretted staying with Steel.