She wondered if she could convince three others to give up their automobiles. Then it would be four vehicles for trade; one for each man blocking the way. The helicopter sounds had faded, but then they returned, as if the wind had shifted. She stepped away from the man when the rotor wash of the blades threatened to blow her hat off.
The dark shape of the aircraft came out of the low clouds, maneuvering as if to land in a farm field off to the side of the road.
“We’re going,” she said dejectedly. “You didn’t have to send for backup.”
The man in the duster heard her. “We didn’t send for anyone. I’ve got to get back.” He trotted to the two cars blocking the highway, leaving them alone for a second.
A number of scenarios played out in her head, but she focused on the one she wanted the most. She’d made the call back at the police station. Maybe, by some miracle, her dad found out about her attempt to contact him. It would be exactly like her father to reply by doing something thoughtful and useful for her survival. Maybe he got in touch with someone in Montana to make sure she made it to safety.
Asher stood next to her. “What do you think they want?”
“I was wondering the same thing. I guess we’ll wait here and see before we turn around. These guys aren’t going to let us. Why wouldn’t they even take our truck?”
He laughed. “You don’t do much haggling, do you? In order for a trade to work, you have to offer a valuable thing they want. No offense, but…” He turned his head and whispered, possibly so the truck wouldn’t hear him. “You didn’t take very good care of it.”
She slapped him on the arm. “Shut up.”
They both had to hold their hats as the helicopter came to a rest in the field. Three burly men hopped out and ran toward the roadblock. They wore heavy black coats, black snow pants, and were outfitted with big goggles. Two of them stopped at the edge of the road near the Welcome to Billings sign, but the third man came directly toward her.
Her brain had been fixated on her dad, so she imagined he was inside all that gear. That illusion was dispelled when the man propped his goggles on his forehead.
“No!” Grace recoiled and tried to reach for her pistol.
“Do not,” Misha ordered as he held up his hands. “My friends have orders to shoot anyone who threatens me.”
Grace considered it for a few seconds but knew he wasn’t bluffing. A guy who dropped out of the sky in a helicopter almost certainly wouldn’t need to bluff. She slowly brought her hand back to her side. “I knew it was you,” she said sadly. “There was no way someone happened to live around here who would run into the woods to get home.”
Misha smiled. The burn on the side of his face and neck was barely visible inside the neckline of his heavy coat and hood. He’d obviously gotten treatment for it; an oily sheen suggested it was covered in burn ointment. “My boss pays quite well to be a professional on the job. I went out and met my friends, but you will also note I did not hurt any of yours. I appreciated the ride over the mountains with your motley American band.”
She refused to thank him again for the rope idea. “Well, you’ve apparently come to finish what you’ve started. We can’t fight off you and your military goons while also protecting the people behind us. It doesn’t really matter though, because these other goons won’t let us through to get to Billings, so it was all a waste of time.”
Misha’s smile faded, as if he’d made a decision she wouldn’t like. “I am not a monster, if that is what you think. This is only business. In fact, I will help you out. Wait over here.” He pointed to the side of the road, near his two friends.
“Are you going to kill us?” she asked, weighing the odds of taking out her pistol and getting a shot or two off before being mowed down by whatever guns the hitman’s pals carried.
Misha waved her over more forcefully. “Wait there. Pajalista. Please.”
His sudden use of please made her do it. While she waited there, Misha and his two friends went over to the men at the roadblock. They strode up like they owned the place and though she couldn’t hear what was said, she was certain threats were made. Misha’s men looked like wolves about to pounce based on their posture alone. At some point, they struck an agreement, and the men jumped in the two cars and backed them out of the middle of the road.
Misha came back to her smiling triumphantly. “In Russian, we call that a happy ending.”
“What did you do?” she asked with confusion, checking again to be sure she’d seen it correctly. The blockade was open.
Misha’s phone rang, and he checked who it was. His face darkened before he looked up at her. “I must take this. Get your cars through the roadblock before those men change their minds. Only you must stay.”
She gulped. “Stay?”
He waved at her dismissively as he answered the phone.
It gave her a moment to turn to Asher. She noticed his police-issue Glock remained holstered in his big black belt. True to what he’d said, Misha didn’t even consider her friend to be a worthy threat. Could she use that to surprise him? Should she? Why had he come in and helped her at all?
There were too many questions and not any answers on offer. The smart play was to shove her convoy through the gap, then deal with Misha once everyone was safe. She turned to Asher. “What choice do we have? Let’s get them through.”
Cairo, IL
Of all the boats Ezra picked out on the waves, he saw the only one that seemed right for the occasion. The pontoon looked like every other model on the lake, a flat, open deck on top of two, long, aluminum floats. It seemed intact, save for the metal cage supporting the sun visor over the captain’s chairs. It had been ripped clean off the watercraft.
“We’re going to make it, Butch.” Ezra willed the little engine to get them across the muddy brown waters. The growing waves splashed over the sides with greater frequency, so the flat-bottomed johnboat became sluggish as he neared the pontoon. Butch’s boot barely kept them in the game.
“Are we almost to shore?” Butch asked, sounding hopeful.
“Not quite,” he replied. “Get ready to jump out though. You’ve got to go when I say. Don’t ask questions, don’t look around; just jump!”
“You got it, E-Z,” he weakly laughed.
A large wave came over the side of their boat, adding dangerously to the level of water inside. “Aw shit!” Ezra screamed. For two seconds he thought that was it, they were going over the side. He had to hold on to the side, same as Butch. When they straightened out, he almost didn’t realize how close they’d gotten to the other boat. He had to back off the outboard throttle to slow them down, but it was time to go. “Jump!”
Butch lifted his head, then dropped it again.
Ezra’s stomach wheeled around and threatened to climb out of his throat. There was no time for delay. “It’s now or never! Suck it up, soldier!”
Butch came to life. He glanced back to him, then at the pontoon. “Affirmative, sir!” He snatched his backpack out of the water on deck, then reached out for the rear ladder of the other boat, and finally pulled himself up. His large size made the entire pontoon boat tip a bit with his added weight.
Ezra used some thrust to hold the johnboat against the other one. Since he was in the rear, he had to swing the boat closer to the ladder. As he conducted his maneuver, a wave caught him on the broadside, dipping the port side under the water.
He went on instinct. He lunged out of the boat, grasping for the ladder. He missed with his right hand, but he managed to shove his left hand through the bottom rung. His backpack and rifle dragged in the water, along with his legs, weighing him down. Being in the choppy surface made him realize how close he was to the thunderous crunches of other boats going into the colliding rivers. Panic arrived on the scene, threatening to pull him under, as it tried to do with Suze.
“E-Z!” Butch held his hand down.
The clasped hand of the strong young man pulled him right up.
“Good Lord,
thanks for that.”
“Someone has to drive the boat,” Butch replied. The ex-soldier fell to the floor, not out of fright precisely, but he seemed to want to sit there for the next part.
“I had a boat a lot like this,” he commented, trying to pull himself together.
“You need to take better care of your stuff,” Butch said sarcastically.
The boat was a mess. It had definitely been flipped; it’s what smashed the sun visor. The interior smelled like gasoline had leaked out and splashed over everything. Several of the vinyl seats looked like they’d been clawed by rocks, and the three-part folding windshield was totally pancaked. He shucked off his gear and flopped into the captain’s chair in front of the steering wheel and throttle. If the keys weren’t already in the ignition, they’d never get it started in time.
This is for all the money.
He assumed the ignition was in a similar spot to his own pontoon boat. When he found a yellow twist connecting the key to a large fishing bobber, he congratulated the owner for thinking a lot like him. It was a trick boaters used in case they ever dropped their keys in the water. In fact…
“Holy shit. This isn’t just a random boat. This is mine!” He quickly glanced around on the water, amazed that of all the boats and garbage floating nearby, he’d found the one that washed ashore in the shockwave the first night. The second impact must have flipped it back, and the rising flood moved it out onto the lake.
He turned the key, aware it was one more point of failure to his impossible plan. The first try only resulted in a half-start on the powerful motor hanging off the back of the boat, but the second crank got it started.
“Thank you, God, Susan, and every saint I’ve ever prayed to. We’re mobile!”
Ezra gave the motor some gas to get a feel for how it was running, but the mile-wide vortex of water was upon them. He’d have to leave nothing on the table if he wanted to escape. His hand pushed the throttle forward as far as he dared.
Then he pushed it a little more.
Denver, CO
Standing in the ruins of downtown Denver made all the turbulence seem worthwhile. Petteri’s transportation team earned high marks for getting him from Isla Socorro to the site of his first recovery operation. He additionally cut Howard a break for ensuring a suitable number of TKM mining and security teams made it to Denver; they’d begun setting up equipment, clearing routes for dump trucks, and prepping explosives designed to break up the asteroid fragment.
Petteri resisted the urge to rub his hands together like a happy miser. The building-sized piece of black rock was there in front of him. Dorothy deserved a bonus, too. She’d been right about the location.
“Sir!” one of his mineral guys held up his hand from next to an exposed face of Tuonela and attempted to walk over the broken surface of the street to get to him. “I have something!”
“What is it, man? Don’t kill yourself.” He kept up the pretense of caring about the individual worker, as he’d done by giving his autograph to one of his employees. He made a big deal about telling his workforce he was there, and that his door was always open, despite standing out on the street. Even during a disaster there was ample time to build his benevolent persona.
The man got close and held up a tablet. “Analysis of this fragment shows high concentrations of gold, platinum, and various rare earth minerals. Based on the estimated mass in this location, I’d say there’s a hundred billion dollars of raw materials here. More, if the world economy continues to tank.”
We have to get them all. Immediately.
“Thank you.” He pulled the man aside. The guy was blond. Young. Probably fresh out of school. Almost certainly easy to manipulate. “For now, I must insist you keep this information to yourself. I’ve recently been made aware of our competitors making an effort to steal our asteroid. If anyone tells them how much this is worth, we may lose all the other pieces. That would be terrible for our bottom line, to say nothing about the jobs of my excellent workforce—people like you. Do you understand?”
He nodded. “I understand completely. Can I tell my supervisor?”
Petteri thought about it. How long could he keep a lid on the story? Would any of his staffers trade such information to companies like PW Industrials for their thirty pieces of silver? He knew the right answer. “Don’t tell your supervisor right now. I’ll have my man get in touch with you and him, and then you can tell him in person. If anyone asks you before that meeting, reply that I asked you to only report the analysis directly to Mr. Howard. Sound fair?”
“It sure does. I won’t let you down.”
The minerals guy walked off as Petteri’s phone rang. It was the very man he wanted to speak with. “Howard,” Petteri answered when he tapped in, “I want you to corral a junior geologist and his supervisor at this crash site. They’re coming up with some value numbers I don’t want going into the wild.”
“I understand, sir. I’ve also got someone on the line you’re going to want to hear. It’s my lost man, Misha Gagarin.”
“Put him through,” he said dryly.
The line clicked before an accented voice spoke up. “Privyet, comrade Tikkanen.”
He held back for a few seconds. “You’re a hard man to get a hold of. I hope you have words I want to hear.”
“I do, sir. I was wrong when I reported in that my targets were dead. A planet crashed to Earth where I was in Yellowstone. I did not think anyone could survive. As I am sure you know by now, they did.”
There was no point in beating around the issue. “I made plans based on your mistake. Most of my men do not get the chance to fix such grave errors in judgment.”
“I understand, of course. I am fifty yards from the target right now. I called Mr. Howard as soon as I knew this girl was alive. I needed you to know not to hurt my family. It will not be necessary. For sure, the two rangers will be taken down.”
“Family is important to you?” he asked, already knowing it was a powerful motivator for the saps of the world.
“It is, sir. I support my mom and two sisters in Bryansk. They are all I have.”
The man sounded desperate and scared. Two qualities he appreciated in those doing what he referred to as “leveraged work” for him; the type of contractor who required collateral held over them, so they didn’t get out of hand.
“Fortunately, I’m happy to say your family is alive and well. For now. In an ironic twist, I’ve brought Asher Creighton’s sister out of danger. If you need to use her as bait, please do so. I bet he’d come right up to you if you mentioned Diedre’s name.”
“I will, sir, if I need to, though it should be possible to take them out without talking to them. I have three good men with me. We can take care of this.”
“Good,” he said, brightening in mood. “Once that’s done, Howard has some new targets for you. Not people, places. I can use your help to secure crash sites of my asteroid. Lots of money to be made from them. Lots of money to be protected at all costs. Do you understand?”
“I do, sir. Spesseeba. Thank you.”
“Yeppers,” he responded automatically, before cussing at himself for his impropriety. He hung up an instant later.
Dorothy, I’m going to kill you!
Petteri caught his breath a few seconds later and quickly calmed down. He wrote off his mistake as exhaustion, coupled with the relief things were going his way again. It had been a long day, sure enough, but he’d secured what was important: first dibs on the biggest mining prize in history. Cranes, tractors, dump trucks, and more security teams were on the way. Tomorrow, he’d start to dig.
Chapter 24
Billings, MT
While Misha spoke on the phone, Grace waved all the cars through the roadblock. She got lots of waves and smiles, though the woman and young girl in the first truck were the most satisfying. She couldn’t imagine being so close to loved ones only to be turned away. For her, family was half a country away. Except for Asher. He was quickly rising to more t
han a simple stranger she’d been shackled with protecting.
By the time everyone was through, she patted the pistol in her front pocket, bolstering her resolve to pull it out if a fight ensued. While doing that with her back to the assassins, she spoke quietly to Asher. “I’m not going out on my knees. If it looks like they’re likely to kill us anyway, I’m pulling out this gun.” She tapped the front pocket of her regulation park service trousers.
“I’ll do my best,” he agreed. “I don’t want to die today, either. Tomorrow would fit better in my schedule.”
She did a double-take in his direction.
He shrugged. “What? I get funny when I’m about to die.”
If they were going to die… “I’m sorry I called you ugly earlier.” Grace stepped so close there was barely an inch between their faces. He was a couple of inches taller, so she had to look up. His brown eyes locked with hers.
“And I’m sorry you had to come drag my ass out of the fire. You would have never been put in this position if I’d stayed at the office in Montana.”
“Meh. Other than your hideous face, I’ve kind of enjoyed our time together.” She smiled happily to show how unserious she was, at least about the face part.
“This isn’t a last kiss type of thing, is it?” he asked.
Asher smelled like fire, even after changing clothes. Or maybe it was her hair. Whatever it was, it harkened back to their original meeting. She’d been so worried about doing proper park ranger work; how fast all that changed to simple survival. At the moment, she was under the gun of a hitman intent on killing her, she smelled terrible, and she was dying to lay down and catch some real sleep, but she couldn’t deny there was something happening between them.
“I don’t think—” she started to say.
“Oh, please! Not in front of my two friends.” Misha had come back.
She stepped away from Asher to face the big Russian. His gun was already out and pointed at her, making her realize she’d squandered any chance of surprise. A superspy would have kissed her new squeeze while pulling out the pistol and then come out of the smooch with guns blazing.
Impact (Book 2): Bounce Page 19