Deacon extended his hand. “Let me talk to that asshole.”
Robert waved him off and pressed the phone tight to his ear. “Agent Greene. Agent Greene. You there?”
“Give the phone to me,” Deacon said.
Robert sighed and lowered his cell. “He hung up.”
“He hung up? Get that bastard back on the line.”
“Won’t do any good. He didn’t give us a choice. He said he was on the road and it was imperative we meet him at the condo.”
Kazuko jabbed her index finger in the direction of the innocent-looking estate a hundred yards up the road. “We can’t just drive off in his Jeep and leave him to those gorillas.”
Deacon raised another worry. “What if Jack isn’t there?”
Robert struggled with the idea.
And we can’t just stand here.
He pictured Jack’s face, wondering if he was still alive. If he was even inside the house.
Kazuko and Deacon looked equally fearful.
“I don’t want to leave here anymore than either of you,” he said. “But it’s clear we can’t rush in there and rescue him. His only chance is letting Agent Greene and Edwards handle it. It’s their job.”
“Give me the key,” Deacon demanded. “I’m going to kick some Homeland Security butt.”
Robert frowned. “I’ll drive. And no one is kicking anybody’s butt. But we’re not wasting any more time here.”
They climbed into the Jeep, and Robert drove away with Deacon sitting in the passenger’s seat.
“Fuck,” Deacon said, turning his head toward the gate leading into the estate when they drove past. “There has to be something we can do, now.”
Robert saw no way around it. “We’ll meet with Agent Greene and his partner and go from there.”
“He better have a good damn reason for jerking us around like this.”
“We’ll soon find out.”
Agents Greene and Edwards were standing at the door to Kimo’s rental when Robert braked to a stop out front. He shoved the shifter into park and opened the door. Too much time was lost already.
Robert walked straight at them with his hands spread, palms up. “Why are we meeting here? You should be calling in an FBI hostage-rescue team to get him out of there.”
Agent Green stepped forward. “Calm down and I’ll explain.”
Like hell I will.
“Screw calming down.”
Agent Greene extended his arm, preventing Robert from advancing farther. “You’re worried. I know that. But I assure you Jack is alive.”
Deacon approached, clearly angry. “How can you be so sure?”
“Let’s talk inside.”
Robert followed the two men inside. “Okay, explain.”
Kazuko and Deacon stood abreast of him, every bit as interested in hearing what Greene had to say.
“I know Jack’s alive because we were told he was.”
Robert struggled to contain his irritation. “Told? Told by whom?”
Greene exchanged glances with Edwards.
Robert remembered them doing that before. One seeking approval from the other. He didn’t care what Edwards thought. He wanted an answer from Greene.
Now.
“Answer the question, Agent Greene. You said you were told Jack was alive. Told by whom?”
The agent paused as though contemplating his answer, then said, “Lieutenant McMasters isn’t who you think he is. He and Dana were working on the case together. We got a text from him this morning.”
“But the house, who does it belong to?”
“The state actually. The former owner died with no living relatives. We couldn’t have a man who is supposed to be receiving big payoffs living as though he was eking out a living on lieutenant’s pay.”
“Why didn’t you tell us all this to begin with?”
“And jeopardize everything he and Dana have accomplished? We couldn’t chance that happening. Now, thanks to Jack’s interference, we have one shot at wrapping up the case.”
Deacon groaned. “You plan on leaving him in there?”
Greene nodded.
Deacon turned away, muttering a curse.
Kazuko took a turn. “What if we don’t want to play along?”
Edwards took over for his partner. “You don’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” she said. “We’ll call the police and tell them what’s happened.”
“If you notify the local authorities and they go bumbling around in there, Jack’s a dead man. The only way he stays alive is if you let us handle it our way.”
“Then what would you have us do?”
“Nothing.”
Kazuko fell silent; Robert sighed. They didn’t paint a pretty picture.
“So that’s it,” he said. “In the meantime, we wait?”
“Until you get the okay from us.”
“And that will be when?”
Edwards spoke stiffly, “Tonight. It’s all set up. But the Bureau isn’t bringing in a hostage-rescue team. Agent Greene and I, along with three field agents from the FBI, will handle the arrest. And of course we have our man inside.”
“And my brother?” Deacon asked.
Edwards didn’t answer. His silence was enough.
“That’s what I thought.”
Robert wanted to believe Jack would come out of it okay. But knew there were no guarantees.
“You say you’re going in tonight?”
“Don’t worry,” Greene said. “He’ll be safe until then.”
Safe . . . I’ll hold you to that.
Robert eyeballed the two men.
“I hope you’re right.”
CHAPTER 84
Jack continued to tug at his bindings. He’d play the lieutenant’s game because he had no choice. But that did not include sitting back and doing nothing.
The water McMasters brought was a good touch. The gesture bought a lot of trust.
Still, he didn’t know how much weight to give it.
If help was coming and people started shooting, how worried would anyone be about him being killed in a crossfire? Walls covered in thin sheetrock don’t stop bullets.
Collateral damage . . . that’s what they’d call his death.
I really fucked up this time.
His hands and feet had already begun to swell from lack of circulation. Whoever tied him, did a good job. And the person didn’t care if he lost his extremities as a result of it. Clearly, they didn’t intend for him to live.
His despair deepened.
He had to get out of there.
Commotion in the adjoining room drew his attention to the door.
Shadows. Feet moving. Muffled talking.
Someone was coming.
He wondered if this was it. Had help arrived?
His hopes were dashed when the door flew open and Takeo glared down at him with that smirk of superiority.
There was a lot Jack wanted to say, but he’d hold his tongue whether tape covered his mouth or not.
This was not the time.
“You are a cat with nine lives,” Takeo said. “But they are about to end.”
Jack caught a glimpse of McMasters watching him from beyond the doorway.
He tensed. Unsure what to expect.
Takeo leaned down and backhanded him across the face. The force of the blow snapped Jack’s head to the side and ripped the tape from his mouth.
Still he held his tongue.
Takeo hit him again. This time with his left hand.
Jack’s vision exploded into a spray of stars. His right eye felt like it would explode. Blood trickled from his nose.
The thought of being killed in a crossfire—collateral damage—slipped from his mind. It was clear he’d not be alive to witness his rescue.
Crewcut intended to beat him to death.
And he was helpless to fight back.
He knew, now, how prisoners of war must feel. Living each minute in fear.
/> Silence would not save him.
“Why did you tie me up in here if this is how it’s going to be?” He sniffed back a dribble of blood and swallowed. “You could have saved yourself the effort and killed me out there on the lawn.”
Crewcut’s scathing expression intensified.
“Had it been up to me, you would be dead by now. But you have used your last life, Jack Ferrell. Madam Takahashi will be here in a couple of hours. It is her wish to personally watch you die. Mitsuru and Shoji also look forward to watching me put a bullet into your brain.”
Jack forced a smile, and said, “Of course. Your two friends. How are they, by the way?”
Takeo gripped him by the throat, hauled him to his feet, and hit him with another vicious backhand.
“Do not believe you are so clever.”
Jack inhaled through his nose, drawing blood with the breath. He was ready to continue the banter, but recognized the futility of it.
Then he thought about Dana and Maiko.
And his own desperate situation.
Both were dead. He’d be next.
“My being clever had nothing to do with it. A woman could best those two bumbling idiots. Their failure has to be as disappointing to you as it is pleasing to me.”
In a final bit of anger, Crewcut hit him hard on the cheek with his fist and let him slide to the floor, his back coming to rest against the wall.
“Tonight, you die.”
CHAPTER 85
From thirty yards away and in the dark, the vehicle was little more than a silhouette and a pair of bright headlights.
Dressed in black tactical gear, Agents Greene and Edwards crouched low in the brush and watched the car enter the estate through the front gate. Greene felt the prickle of excitement he felt every time he made an arrest.
Circumstances and locations changed.
But not the objective.
“Tell our FBI friends our visitor has arrived.”
“She’s here,” Edwards whispered into his radio.
Below them three FBI agents dressed in similar black assault gear moved into position on the left side of the gate.
Greene watched with anticipation. The operation was personal for him as much as it was a hostage rescue and a matter of homeland security. He was the agent Dana reported to. And she’d died because of the people in the house below.
“Ready?” he asked.
Edwards nodded. “I just hope everything goes according to plan.”
So do I.
“Relax.” Greene hoped to draw composure from his own words. “McMasters will open the gate when it’s time.”
“Then let’s not keep him waiting.”
There was no reason to stall even a moment longer. Greene led Edwards down the rocky slope and across the road. He flattened his back to the lava wall on the right side of the gate. He got a thumbs up from the lead FBI agent on the opposite side of the access.
He checked his Heckler & Koch MP5 assault rifle. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Edwards do the same. A two-man team.
They were ready.
It would be hand signals from here on.
He knew the gate could be opened from inside the house. But not until the stage was set. Now it was only a matter of time before it swung to the side.
The waiting was the hardest.
When the gate began to swing inward, it felt like they had been poised to move for hours. But it had only been ten minutes according to his watch.
Showtime.
He lowered the night-vision goggles over his eyes and tensed.
The moment the opening was wide enough, he hurried inside the compound with the others following.
Holding his position at the rear of what he now saw was a black Mercedes S600 sedan, he scanned the perimeter. The FBI agents held up behind a tree on the opposite side of the gravel drive.
Lights were on in the house. He could see shadows move beyond the curtained windows. A dim outside light lit the porch. There were no exterior guards in sight for them to worry about.
They’d made it onto the property undetected.
The easy part.
Not so for the residence. He and Edwards knew how the rooms were situated. And they knew where the outside electric panel was located. They’d make entry through the front door that, according to McMasters, would be unlocked. He rehearsed the assault in his mind.
Two of the FBI agents would join him and Edwards at the door while the third readied himself to cover the back. First he’d cut the power. The signal to go.
From that moment on, the success of the operation depended on each man’s actions.
And no one was more ready than Greene.
The moment the lights went out, he and the agent across from him would toss in flash grenades, and move inside fast behind the explosions. What they couldn’t control was the movement of the occupants.
He hoped they were all grouped in the front of the house.
And that no shots had to be fired.
There were two innocents inside. They couldn’t forget that.
Both of them needed to come out alive.
It was time to move.
He took a firm grip on his MP5 and motioned the FBI agents into place on the south side of the residence. At practically the same moment, he hurried forward with confidence born from hours of practice.
And the knowledge there was always a chance something could go wrong.
He prayed it didn’t.
He rushed past the Suburban and reached the wide porch with Edwards close behind him.
So far so good.
The next couple of minutes would tell.
He settled himself by drawing in a lungful of night air and letting it out. Not daring to take his eyes off the entrance to the house or to even blink.
A heartbeat of distraction that could cost him, or one of the others, their life.
Edwards nodded in Greene’s peripheral vision. They crept softly to the door. At the same time, the two FBI agents approached from the other end. Working as a team now, they flanked the entrance waiting for the lights to go off.
From experience, Greene knew everything would move fast from this point on.
Dangerously fast.
This is where everything would come together in a single decisive move, or fall apart in an instant.
A couple of seconds later, the house went dark.
He opened the door and tossed in a flash grenade.
CHAPTER 86
Jack blinked his eyes open in the darkness his vision had grown accustomed to. He lay on his side on the floor. The strips of tape were gone from his lips, having fallen away in his sleep. Blood had dried on his face and inside his nose.
He groaned into a sitting position.
At least he could breathe.
But his left eye had begun to swell. Much more and it would be closed completely. He couldn’t survive a second beating.
Takeo would never allow it.
He searched out his slab of illumination, his only connection to the outside world. It seemed brighter. As if additional house lights added to the glow.
And there were voices too. Several. A woman’s.
He wondered if their talk had awakened him.
Then the realization of what that meant sent a sinking feeling to his gut.
Chiharu Takahashi is in the other room.
His time was up. But he’d not go quietly.
He scooted closer to the wall to straighten his back and realized he had feeling in his hands that wasn’t there before. The hours of struggling had not been a waste of effort after all. Or someone had entered the room while he was asleep and loosened the knots. His ankles, too.
A glimmer of hope formed.
At least he could go down fighting.
He tugged and pulled against the rope and slid his right wrist free.
Not wasting any time, he brought both hands in front of him and quickly peeled the nylon cord off his left wrist. Then he went to
work on the rope around his ankles. The last of his bindings.
Seconds counted, but he still had to figure out a way to get out of the house without being seen or killed in the process.
To do that, he had to be able to move.
He got his legs under him and managed to stand. He arched and stretched the stiffness from his body and paced back and forth to get his legs moving. Without the circulation only just now returning to his limbs, he’d never have managed to do this much.
And he sure wouldn’t be able to run.
Something he wasn’t certain he could manage, even now.
Determination and perseverance would make the difference.
He searched the dim silhouettes in the gloom, looking for a weapon. All he found were boxes of books smelling musty from time and moisture. Finally, his hands fell upon a short, stout fishing rod with a heavy lure attached. A trolling pole not unlike the one they used on Robert’s boat.
Perhaps it would serve as a club, or be useful as something to jab with.
It would have to do.
He continued to pace. Exercising his muscles back into shape. His mind working on a solution. His fingers gripping the pole.
All he could do at the moment.
Furtive movements sounded from the adjoining room. He turned to the door in time to see the glow in the space at the bottom go out.
Something hard rolled across the tile and exploded.
He involuntarily shied from the blast. A flare of brilliance under the door reached his hiding place like a bolt of lightning.
A flash grenade.
He knew that could only mean one thing.
The cavalry had arrived.
And that meant Chiharu Takahashi would not get her wish. Nor would Crewcut. Now if he could just avoid being killed in the inevitable crossfire.
Suddenly, there were shots fired. A lot of them. By everyone, it seemed.
A bullet splintered a hole in the center of the door and thudded into the sheetrock dangerously close to his head.
He ducked.
More shots were fired, and he feared the next one would surely splatter his brains on the wall.
Shipwreck Page 25