Steel saw the bullet divots in her window. A powerful rifle would have punched through. The shooter had just wanted to scare Christie, keep her attention focused on the window. He wiped sweat from his brow.
Christie brushed back strands of her brown-and-blond streaked hair and lifted her chin to him. He gave her a slight nod.
Sirens could be heard in the distance. Christie stepped on the gas.
Steel twisted to study Afia.
“I’m all right,” said Afia. She appeared calm.
“No talking!” said the man in the back seat.
Steel searched for answers but couldn’t find any. Too many things didn’t fit. The man Harry had shot tried to kill Afia. If these men wanted to kill her, why go to all this bother? Were they handing Afia off to someone for torture or to videotape her beheading? Maybe Harry was collateral to force their cooperation.
Their kidnappers wanted something, otherwise they would have blown up the SUV already. Maybe they wanted to torture him, Christie, and Harry too—to make an example of anyone protecting someone with a fatwa on their head.
Or maybe they just wanted Harry out of the way. The more he thought about it, he began to suspect that these men might not be connected to Afia and the fatwa.
He twisted to face the man in the back seat. “What do you want?”
“Shut up. Speak one more time and I release it!” The man held the switch in his hand a few inches higher.
Few people had the ability to become suicide bombers, but the young man fit the profile. Steel guessed he was in his twenties. Easy to brainwash. And the man’s tone held an edge of vehemence Steel had heard before in people willing to die for causes. He turned around and kept his mouth shut.
He glanced at Christie, regretting bringing her—he had to shove that aside and focus. He was missing something, but when he ran through possible enemies he couldn’t find a fit. Trying to think of a way to deal with the man in the backseat proved fruitless too. He had to wait for an opportunity.
Christie dropped her right hand onto the divider between the bucket seats. Steel grasped and squeezed it. She squeezed back several times before releasing him.
While she drove, he ran through every possible scenario he could think of to get free of their situation. There was always a way out of seemingly impossible situations—Kobayashi Maru didn’t exist for him. All of his virtual reality training centered on placing himself in impossible situations until he found a solution.
His own personal motto, Stay calm, assess options, wait for a solution, guided him when things got ugly.
In a half hour they were on highway six, headed west into the mountains. It was dark and the traffic was light. Christie flicked her gaze to the rearview mirror several times. Steel understood. They were being followed.
The phone rang and he answered.
“Phone on speaker.” The Colombian.
Steel complied.
“Park at the next scenic overlook and turn off your headlights. Stay on the phone and roll down all your windows.”
Christie powered down all the windows, letting in the cooler air. In a few minutes she rounded a curve and pulled off the road into a scenic overlook.
The small parking area was empty except for two sedans parked at the far end. When Christie cut the headlights, darkness surrounded them. The full moon gave them some light.
A small pickup pulled off behind them.
Steel readied himself. Slowly he worked his right hand to the horizontal belt-sheath built into the back of his belt. It held a Benchmade 3300BK Infidel auto OTF blade. He pulled it out. Transferring it to his left hand, he placed his right hand close to the door handle to be able to open it fast.
He still had to account for the man with the bomb. He didn’t have a solution to him. But if the kidnappers planned to kill them here, he resolved to do something.
A man appeared in his side-view mirror, wearing a black hood and holding a sawed-off shotgun aimed at his head. Through the driver’s side passenger window he glimpsed another man on Christie’s side. Identically dressed and also holding a sawed-off aimed at her.
Both men stood five feet back from the front doors to minimize any chance of attack. Professionals.
“Jack Steel.”
Steel glanced over his shoulder at the speaker, whose voice fit the man on the phone. The man’s height and general build also fit the rifle shooter in the trees.
“Face forward,” the man said roughly.
He did—and considered opening the door and ducking low.
“If the door so much as cracks open, I step back and shoot you.”
Steel swallowed. He believed the man.
“Here’s the good news, Steel. You’re all going to live. All three of you are going to get into the closest sedan parked at the far end. When you reach Idaho Springs, pull off the highway at the first gas station you see. Then open the trunk. There’s a phone inside. Have someone pick up Miss Afia. She isn’t part of this. I admire her courage. I’ll call with instructions. Do as you’re told or your brother dies. You do want to see Harry again, don’t you, Christie?”
Christie glanced over her shoulder at him, biting her lip as she faced forward. “Yes.”
“Call in the police or any law enforcement, and Harry’s dead. We’re monitoring everything. We so much as see a police car or roadblock on the road and Harry’s finished.”
Both men backed up from the doors. The man on Steel’s side said, “Get out. Leave the burner phone on the car seat. Go to the sedan. Hurry or I won’t be so nice.”
Steel exited the SUV along with Christie and Afia, keeping his knife hidden behind his leg as he faced the man with the shotgun.
The shotgun had a pistol grip, and the Latino held it stiffly to absorb recoil, sighting on him, both arms up, left leg and arm forward. He knew what he was doing. Maybe ex-military.
Afia and Christie hurried around the rear of the SUV and joined him. Christie carried her small purse.
The younger man with the bomb got out on the other side of the SUV, still holding the switch. He didn’t look experienced like the other two men—who were also huskier and taller.
Steel turned to go, but the older man’s voice made him pause.
“Steel, one last reminder. You and Christie are on your own. Call in anyone else to help—outside of picking up Miss Afia—and you can say goodbye to Harry and everyone you both love. When we talk, I’ll explain that last point in detail. And if you and Christie split up, same result. You’ll be watched.”
Steel tensed over the threats but said nothing. Wanting to get Afia and Christie away from the men as fast as possible, he strode across the dirt to the sedan. He glanced at the second car parked a little farther away. Empty.
Christie took the driver’s seat, he the front passenger seat, while Afia ducked into the back. The keys were in the ignition. In seconds Christie pulled the car onto the highway. They rapidly pulled away from the SUV and armed men.
Steel put his knife away. After a few miles he concluded the sedan didn’t have a bomb hidden in it.
“That was strange.” Afia sat up and fanned her face with her hand. “But I give thanks that we’re all still alive!”
Steel agreed on both counts. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, Afia.”
She sat back. “Thank you for protecting me at the auditorium, Jack and Christy. I hope Harry will be all right.”
“Glad we were there to help,” said Steel.
“Why Harry?” Christie sounded shaken. “Do you know any of those men, Jack?”
“I didn’t recognize their voices.” Once more he ran through all the contacts and people he knew. The Colombian’s accent reminded him of the Serpent Op in Colombia last year.
A Colombian cartel leader had threatened him with retribution. But these men and their orders didn’t strike
him as originating from a cartel. Other connections to the Serpent Op didn’t fit either.
He checked his sideview mirror, but in the dark it would be hard to see if any of the three men were following them. He assumed at least one was.
They drove to I-70 and arrived at Idaho Springs in twenty minutes. Christie pulled into the first gas station. Steel asked her to back the car into the shadowed rear corner of the large lot.
They exited the car, and he told the two women to move away before he checked the undercarriage and engine compartment for any sign of a bomb. Nothing.
After pulling the trunk release, he crouched and carefully opened the trunk. No explosion.
There was a large zippered duffel bag inside, which he opened. He gaped. It was full of weapons. Two Glock 19s, two Sig Sauer P320s, and three SIG MCX Rattlers—rifle-caliber machine guns with optical sights and carry straps. Along with silencers, ammo clips, knives, zip ties, duct tape, two night-vision goggles, binoculars, gloves, and two black face masks.
Ten thousand dollars in weapons and accessories. The Rattlers had folding stocks and were easy to conceal. The guns also told him the Latino had experience with weapons, supporting his earlier guess of ex-military. It made his mouth dry. His first thought was that he had to get Christie out of here.
A phone lay next to the bag. He grabbed it, zipped up the duffel bag, and shut the trunk. Apprehensive, he rejoined Christie and Afia.
“What’s in the trunk?” asked Christie.
He gave a slight shake of his head. “The phone and a few other things. I’ll show you later.”
Christie nodded. “I’ll call Clay and Dale. They’ll take care of Afia.”
He handed the phone to her. “Alright. And maybe your brothers can search for Harry.”
“Agreed.” She hesitated, staring at the phone.
He understood and took it back. Taking off the back, he examined the interior, then put it back together. “I don’t think it’s bugged.”
“Thanks.” She walked away to make the call.
He didn’t want to call the police or FBI. Not with Harry in play. And not until he understood the kidnapper’s threat to his family. At least Afia would be safe. All of Christie’s brothers had military backgrounds.
He turned to Afia. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Anything.” She looked up at him, her brown eyes serious.
“I would appreciate it if you just told the police that your head was down the whole time so you don’t know where we are. Tell them we’re worried and still checking on other concerns so we dropped you off with Christie’s brothers. I don’t want them chasing us, since that man threatened to kill Harry if the police are brought in.”
He shrugged. “It’s a lot to ask.”
“Hah. You just saved my life! I am happy to do that.” She stepped closer. “I worry for you, Jack. Take care.”
“Thank you, Afia. I admire your strength.”
Her voice lowered. “Violence never solves anything, and revenge only makes things worse. I hope these men can see that soon.”
“So do I.” He doubted that would happen.
“The mountains are so beautiful, Jack, but this is ugly.”
He grimaced. The weapons in the trunk promised things were going to get a lot uglier.
CHAPTER 3
Christie returned. “They’ll be here in twenty minutes. I told Clay that Harry was kidnapped and we needed their help to get Afia out of here. I left out the rest of the details. Otherwise Clay would have questioned me for a half hour.”
“Good.” Steel remembered the first conversation he had with Clay, her oldest brother, nearly a year ago. A week after he and Christie had survived a harrowing Op in Hawaii, Clay had asked him if he could keep his sister safe.
At that time Christie wasn’t going with him on Greensave field assignments. She was just doing the planning. He had answered Clay by saying whatever Christie did, it was her choice. But Clay’s words had always nagged at him.
It was a half hour before a blue rental car pulled up alongside their car.
Dale and Clay appeared as solidly built as Harry. Dale was in his late twenties and shorter, Clay in his late forties with a moustache. Both had short hair and wore jeans, denim jackets, and boots. Clay wore a cowboy hat.
Steel liked both of them. Ex-Army. Dependable. Solid. He had visited their homes in Montana and watched some of the winter Korean Olympics with them. They had been welcoming to him, but now they looked serious as they gave Christie a big hug and shook his hand firmly.
“Let’s go, Afia.” Clay motioned to their car.
Afia hugged Christie, whispering, “I hope you get your brother back.”
“Thank you, Afia.” Christie held her tightly.
Afia grabbed Steel next. “Thank you for protecting me.”
He pulled back. “Anytime.”
Once Afia was in the car, Clay shut the door and stepped up to them. His voice was terse, his face drawn. “Who has Harry?”
“Yeah, what gives?” asked Dale.
“We don’t know,” said Christie. “Harry is in the back bed of a small white pickup truck with a cargo bed cover. Most likely Latinos are driving it.”
“Hell, who would do something like that?” Dale frowned.
Clay was silent, staring at Steel.
Steel looked each of them in the eye. “The man in charge is Colombian. I recognized his accent, but I don’t know who he is. We’re being watched. If we call in the police or any law enforcement they said they’ll kill Harry.”
Clay stuck his hands in his pockets. “Do you believe them?”
“One of their men held a bomb in our SUV and was ready to die if we didn’t do what we were told.” Steel waited, concerned Clay wouldn’t go along with it.
“I disagree.” Clay grimaced. “We need to call in the FBI. They’re trained to handle this kind of stuff.”
Steel nodded. “The Colombian has something else over me, because he said all our loved ones will die if we don’t do as he says. He’s going to call me and explain that to me so I think we have to wait to hear what it is before we call anyone in.”
He paused. “The way they took us was very carefully planned. They knew where we would be, how to make it succeed, and pulled it off without a mistake. The Colombian is a pro and we have to take him seriously.”
“Hell.” Clay bit off his words. “I always felt something like this would happen with your background, Steel.”
“That doesn’t help us, Clay,” snapped Christie.
Clay stared at them. “All right. We see what the Colombian has to say and then we revisit this decision, agreed?”
“Agreed.” Steel nodded.
“How can we help our brother?” Dale frowned. “We gotta do something.”
Steel said, “After you drop off Afia, get a different color rental car and head north on highway six, past Boulder. I think that’s a decent bet for where they took Harry, but it’s still a long shot.” His voice hardened. “I won’t let anything happen to your brother.”
“Why the different color car?” asked Dale.
“I think they’re watching us so they’ll pass along the color of the car you have now to whoever is driving the white pickup.” Steel assumed Clay and Dale wouldn't be followed. “We have to be cautious.”
Clay motioned to their car. “We’ll drop Afia off at the Boulder police station. Then we’ll swap cars and drive north. We’ll wait for your update.”
Steel gestured to him. “Thanks. I’m sorry about all this.”
“We’ll sort it out,” said Dale.
“Can I talk to you alone for a moment, Jack?” Clay stared at him steadily.
“Whatever you have to say, say it in front of both of us, Clay.” Christie’s voice was firm.
Clay frowned. “All right. I might lo
se a brother over something I don’t understand. I don’t want to lose a sister too.” He looked at her. “I think you should come with us.”
Christie stared at him. “If we split up, the Colombian said he’ll kill Harry and our families.”
Clay’s forehead wrinkled. “Why is he making you stay with Jack?”
Christie shrugged. “We don’t know.”
Clay shook his head, looking frustrated. “Damn.”
“Let’s see what develops,” said Dale. “If we get moving, maybe we can find Harry quick and end all this.”
Clay regarded Christie and Steel for a few moments. “Okay. We’ll do it your way for now.”
“Be careful.” Christie hugged her brothers once more.
Clay returned to the passenger seat of the rental car. Dale climbed in behind the wheel.
Steel tapped on Clay’s window. When he powered it down, Steel said, “Hang on.” He motioned to Christie. “Come on.”
He opened the trunk of their car, unzipped the duffel bag, and looked at Christie. “I want to give two guns to your brothers. Do you want a SIG or Glock? There’s two of each.” She preferred the SIG’s steady trigger pull and ergonomics, but she practiced with both.
She gaped at the weapons. “SIG.”
“Alright.” He preferred the grip of a Glock anyway. He took out one SIG and one Glock, and an extra mag for both. Hesitating, he said, “Let’s check them quick.”
He handed her the SIG, he took the Glock. They ejected the full magazines, checked the chambers, took off the slides, recoil springs, and barrels.
“Clean.” Christie reassembled it.
“Mine too.” He put the Glock back together, took the SIG from her, and said, “Walk in front of me to Clay’s window so no one can see the guns.”
She did. Remaining close behind her, he unobtrusively handed the guns to Clay. “You might need these. We just checked them. Clean and ready.”
Clay raised his eyebrows, but he took the guns. “I expect you to take care of my sister, Steel.”
“Nothing will happen to her, Clay. You have my word.”
Steel Assassin Page 2