by Cara Charles
Sam shook their hands, “Damn nice of you guys. But please come back to the house for a while. She’s around, hiding somewhere. I know my sister. She may decide to come home on her own, once all the authorities have gone.”
Iain said, “Sam? I did an analysis on your sister while in flight, she may be on her way to Arizona, we think.”
“I disagree. The funeral is day after tomorrow. She’s around. I can feel her. She’s very skittish and very self-reliant. She knows how to protect herself. Stay with me at the house. We’ll think of a way to tell her you’re friendly.”
Iain said, “OK, we’ll stay with you.”
Sam said, “Good friends in high places, never hurts.”
“Good mates, indeed,” Iain texted Janitor about their change in plans.
Janitor immediately texted Dez.
She texted Janitor back, ‘If she shows, it will be the day of the funeral. Begin the three-day count on the day of the funeral. Stall Sam in Arizona after the funeral as planned.’
Janitor relayed the message to Iain and he text back, ‘copy.’
“Have you ever shot a gun Sam?” Dave asked.
“Yes. We’ve been prepared for retaliation from Kimirov or his associates.”
“Iain? Hand Sam the Glock.” Mac said.
Iain asked, “Do you have an electronics store in town?”
“On State Street.” Sam looked over the gun and took in a pensive breath.
Eight billboard posting crews arrived at Hwy 101, 405 and Interstate 5 interchanges. They strapped on their safety equipment while the cranes lifted the new sections of billboard advertising for the Western Washington Visitors campaign, huge posters of their native Orcas swung through the air and up to their boards. Desiree watched the Facetime video as her plan to bring Elise north to safety began.
Later that day, Elise snuck into her back yard avoiding the FBI, the local police and the news crews that filled her front yard. She watched Sam through her spotting scope with his new friends. That nagging voice was pressing her to move on, but she ignored it. She would chance going to her family’s funeral, hoping Mavra Kimirov’s killers would try for her, if not, she’d run anyway.
Sam put his head in his hands and cried as the FBI grief counselor sat with him. In the dark, Elise cried with her brother, for her brother and the pain they both were enduring alone.
A tall, very fit, chiseled guy with sandy brown hair, probably in his late thirties stepped out on the terrace with his shaggy white dog and a bowl of water, while the dog relieved herself. He sat, put his face in his hands. The dog licked his hands until he acknowledged her. He put his arms around her and sobbed. A few minutes later a tall, big and fit African-American man in his thirties and a wiry, smaller fit man also in his thirties joined them on the terrace. They consoled him. He was in intense pain.
Elise watched as he got himself together. She turned up her mic.
CHAPTER TEN -- THE NEW FOREVER
“I NEVER SHOULD HAVE stopped the code,” he said.
Dave was in agony over this decision now. His PTSD was rearing its head.
“You did the right thing Davey. We’re all sorry about Chris. You’ve got to focus on what you could control. You still saved Mango because he hadn’t been buried in the snow for 30 minutes. And we’re here to help Elise and Sam. That’s our new mission, Mate. We’ll get Mavra Kimirov and her killers. OK? Focus on now. Not the past. I have every faith you can transcend the past.”
Elise was surprised and relieved to hear that, and that Sam had their protection.
Dave nodded, trying to find his way out of his despair, “Until our last breath, right Mac? Right Iain? She’s killed too many innocent people,” Dave said testing the depth of their resolve.
“Til our dying breath.”
“Sorry I lost it. It was all their family photos…” Dave hung his head again.
Elise thought, ‘Mavra killed a friend of theirs and tried for another! You vicious psychopath! I’ve got to call Sam.’
Elise fought her tears. She crept away as the den’s television news carried through to her listening devise:
“Tragedy strikes the Kimirov family again. Mavra Kimirov’s Boeing Business Jet exploded on its way from Mammoth to Las Vegas, today. Mavra and a company of four people were on board according to Mammoth airport authorities. It may have had a recent maintenance check, they said. All hands lost. Tragedy is no stranger to the Kimirov family. An heir to Mavra Kimirov’s billions is undetermined at this time. Authorities are combing the waters of Glen Canyon Dam where her plane was last seen on radar. In other news, no leads on the APB issued for Elise Larsen Andersen, Santa Barbara, and Los Angeles high-level environmental lawyer and activist. Last year her firm won the largest settlement in environmental law history from Kimirov Mining. Environmental scientists and environmental groups worldwide, are still in shock that Ivan Kimirov paid, doubling the damage award, and didn’t appeal. Elise Andersen’s family was one of two families killed in a freak explosion that resulted in a massive avalanche in Mammoth that killed her husband Tom Andersen, an entertainment attorney and their nineteen year old daughter Lara, a freshman at USC. The four men in the other SUV remain unidentified. The five men killed at the hospital shootout, two men found near the Andersen condo, and the one man blown apart in the deadly avalanche all twelve men remain, unidentified. The thirteenth man, Eastern Sierra Avalanche Team Captain Chris Wilson was found in a shallow grave by one of their own avalanche rescue dogs. In a half hour, Sheriff Paul Buchanan will be holding a press conference to share updates on this tragic case.”
‘My God. Those three men have come to help us find Mavra. That’s amazing dedication. Amazing. We will find you, you vicious bitch and each of us will take a turn at ripping you to shreds.’
Elise crept away, adrenalin and rage driving her.
Once clear and back on the road, Elise ran full out, trying to out run the tragic news. By the time she came to her senses, she was out in the open on the Coast Road near the small Montecito shopping center decorated in Holiday evergreen wreaths and swags. She slowed to a jog, confident her hoody covered her identity from her neighbors and friends. Elise used the pay phone at the market, and called home.
“Sam? I’m fine. No one has me. Get the press and the FBI to go away and I’ll come back for the funeral. If you can’t get them to go, I won’t come back at all. I just want to be alone and heal. Tell your three new friends thank you for taking up our cause. Kiss the dog for me. And Sam? Please do this for me. Take down the Christmas tree and tell Dave, he’s a hero.”
“OK. I will Elise. The funeral is in two days eleven a.m. at the church. Hello?”
“Understood.” The phone went dead.
“Did you get it?” Agent Spivak the Senior FBI Crisis Officer asked.
Sam handed them the phone to look at the caller ID.
The FBI tech got the number, “market pay phone on Coast Road.”
“She’s at the market. She’s OK. Do what she asks and go, please. I’m sorry.”
“What do you want us to do Sam?” The agent asked.
“To do what she asks. My sister’s a very intelligent, precise, strong-willed woman. She will not come back or attend the funeral if she feels threatened. She’s been like this since they brought her back from Australia. It took a year of therapy for her to become social again. My sister has quite a skill set, Agent Spivak. She vowed never to feel helpless again after surviving being lost in the Outback and she never has. She’s kept up her survival and defense training. Twice a year she goes on a two-week retreat to practice wilderness survival skills, plus she’s a Tai Kwan Do fifth degree black belt. Learned while taking Lara to classes, and she’s been learning Muy Thai. Darling Lara. Damn it all...” Sam broke down.
“She has a survivalist instinct Mr. Larsen. Her skill set makes me feel better. She runs when she feels threatened. We just want to protect her from whoever may be after her. We’ll stand down for now. Before we go, I want to give
you this call button. Put it on your key ring. It looks like a car alarm. If you see anyone suspicious or need our help, we’ll just be in a command post at the police station for the next seventy-two hours. Keep us posted. We’ll post updates to your cell. Please. Put me on your speed dial. I’m available to you, day or night.”
“Yes, that would be best. I can’t betray her trust.”
“Understood. We’ll speak to the media if you like.”
Sam nodded yes, as he composed himself.
With a wave of his hand, Spivak cleared the house of authorities. He patted Sam on the shoulder and left. Agent Spivak went outside and spoke to the press.
“She’s been here, outside. She knows about you three and Chris. Dave’s a hero, she said. She wanted me to tell you, Dave.”
Dave smiled. He was touched. Very touched.
Mac said, “She’s in survival mode. Let’s give her her space. She’ll reveal herself on her own time table.”
Sam’s phone rang. It was the funeral home.
Mac, Dave, Deedee, and Iain checked the house, as M4SB team and Dennis and Larry patrolled outside and around the block.
The sun had nearly set. Elise was jogging back to check on Sam again and for the comforting company of having him and his new friends so close, then she’d go to her hideout at the Clark estate. She took unknown paths and shortcuts only locals would know. She was barely visible in her all black running suit and blackened face. Montecito streets were poorly lit, heavily tree-lined, many without sidewalks.
Through her earpiece she heard…“Stop, God damn it. That’s the Andersen bitch!”
“No she’s taller. I’m not stopping.”
A van was hanging back, following. She’d seen the same van with the same plates, cruising the neighborhood a few times. She picked up the pace, watching the headlights get closer. She cut through a friend’s wooded, dark backyard. She doubled back, treading lightly.
The road curved a bit to the right. Now she came out behind the van about twenty-five yards. She was on the street, right behind the van making sure she was not in their mirrors.
Elise picked up two big rocks, threw them in quick succession, far into the dry leaves to sound like footsteps behind and to the right of the van.
“Let’s get this over with. This place is crawling with Feds, news crews, cops, and private security. I want to go home.”
“Hurry up.”
Before the driver could stop the van, the small passenger hopped out.
Elise had climbed up on the back bumper, flattened her body and hid her blackened face, while two men from the van ran into the wooded yard, leaving the van in the middle of the street. Three other guys filed out the right side, following the other three.
She’d counted seven assailants total, including the driver. Impossible odds.
The dome light was turned off. The driver eased the van to the shoulder. While looking into his right mirror, Elise slit his throat saving a bullet, opened the door, and let his body hit the pavement as she jumped into the driver’s seat and shoved the rolling van into park and wiped up the blood spray.
Then she dragged his convulsing body to the left side of the road, wiped her hands on his shirttail, found his cell in his front pant’s pocket, and covered him with mounds of dried leaves from under the Oleander hedge.
Elise climbed back into the van, cleaned more of the blood spray with the dead guy’s water bottle, and assumed his role as the driver. She used her fingers to filter her Mag light.
Photos of her face from all angles, schematics of her home, her law office, classroom, campus building where her office was, her parking spots, photos of her brother Sam, his house, their office. She didn’t need to see anymore.
She took a bottle of their water and washed her gloved hands, rubbed them dry on her pant legs, and waited for the guys to come back.
They were coming, the dry leaves tattled.
“Man, you’re dreaming. It wasn’t her.”
“Shut the hell up. It was, I tell you. I’ve studied her enough. It’s her.”
“OK! Geezus! Len? Head her off at her house, let’s go…”
Elise put the van in gear and started to roll.
The seven got into the van, looking for their buckle, to buckle up. She shot the one next to her with her left hand, through the neck. She wanted the one who knew her to see who had killed him. At the same time, shooting the guys behind her a couple of times, with a blind over the shoulder shot with her right, in the face, once each. Then, in the chest, with the two silenced guns she had. Five seconds, six dead. The small one escaped.
Mavra rolled under the van, smart enough to know not to run. She waited for the van to drive on. It should drive forward, missing her. Her heart was pounding and she loved it.
Elise got out to listen. It was quiet. Whoever had escaped was hiding. Elise wanted to call out and say “your luck just ran out,” but thought best to stay anonymous. Elise got in, and slowly released the footbrake, as she pulled the convulsing passenger into the foot well.
The van was rolling forward. She was clear. Mavra waited ten seconds, then got up and ran on her toes to the oleander hedge and froze. She disappeared in the dark neighborhood, as the van sped away.
“Til we meet again, Elise Andersen.”
Elise headed back to the store on Coast Road. While waiting for her opportunity, she went through the kill team’s research and gear.
They had food, water, survival gear, and backpacks. She’d take as much as she could pack in one of their backpacks.
A kid rode up on his bike. He propped it against the column and ran into the store. The lot was quiet. Elise threw the kid’s bike in the van, drove the six dead guys up the rural Hwy 154 that led into the hills.
On a turnout high up on Hwy 154, Elise parked, put on a clean pair of latex gloves, wiped the van of her prints, re-supplied the backpack with their water, their portable gear and phones, their guns and ammo, took all the photos, the registration, and their IDs.
Elise took out the bike, rolled the parking logs out of place, luckily they cooperated, and put the van in gear. It rolled over the hill into the ravine. She hoped it didn’t burst into flames. That would attract a crowd. She waited for five minutes. Nothing. She replaced the logs, rubbed out her footprints and tire tracks, and carried the bike to the pavement walking backwards to create forward prints. She’d return the bike to the store soon. The kid needed his bike back.
She hated that the small one escaped. In her gut she knew who it was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN -- EVERYTHING IS NEVER ENOUGH
MAVRA WAS BACK HOME in her mountain retreat in the French Alps eighteen hours later.
Her cell vibrated, waking her out of a bad dream. They were crash landing in the number one most dangerous airport in the world, Courchevel Airport in the Alps of France, her home airport.
She thought the call was the pilot telling her he was quitting. They’d had a very hairy landing on the icy undulating runway.
Relieved it was Dimitri, she answered.“D? Where are you?” Mavra asked.
“Why are you going through with this ridiculous, deadly plan of yours?” Dimitri demanded.
“Because of what was in Deduska’s brief case.”
“Ah! My God! They are onto you! Your whole team is gone, except Carlos. What more proof do you need? They aren’t going to stop until you’re dead. Carlos and I don’t want to die with you or because of you. Comprende’? You crazy broad!”
“Valentina’s plane could have malfunctioned. A pure co-incidence.”
“Hardly. Their police scanner said they found body parts in the snow. They took two people to the hospital, then killed five of your team at the hospital, one on the mountain, two at the condo, one at the crime scene, leaving four unaccounted for. You and Carlos are two of the four, right? So you screwed up there, too. And why is your grandfather dead now, huh? That was also you. And how is it you keep surviving?”
“They’ve had extraordinary luck. B
ut we still accomplished our goal. I told Elise Andersen I’d see her again. I must know if she knows anything about Deduska’s wartime nurse-friend. There are no coincidences. Her father, Charles flew Ivan to sanctuary, to freedom. That’s why he settled. Ivan Kimirov was a sentimental old fool.”
“Your goal, not mine. Not Carlos’! Not ever. Madre mia! It was his money Chiquita! Not yours! Maybe you’re not even in his will!”
Mavra raged, “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m responsible for a third of his profits!”
“He paid you! You said so yourself! Listen to me! They won’t make that mistake twice! Poor Valentina! Six right there dead. Is that twenty people or are there more? I would strongly suggest you don’t minimize my efforts to stop you or pressure me to join you. I do not murder innocent people. That’s your sick game! Find yourself a new man. Carlos, perhaps but he’s had enough of you, too! You overestimate your abilities Mavra. You’ve killed two dozen people or more in two days! I’m through. I don’t associate with serial killers. Adios.” D hung up on her.
Mavra threw a lamp against the wall, nearly hitting her grandfather’s Monet.
‘Arrogant ass, he’ll be back. My money is far too seductive.’
Now he had her worried and she hated it.
First light…
But, Mavra was looking beyond the cotton ball snowflakes floating hypnotically through the air. D called her a serial killer. If Dimitri ever knew the truth, he’d never see her again. He really didn’t know how lucky he was. He was right. They’ll be hunting her, like she’s hunting Elise Andersen, time no longer on her side. She would have to capture Elise Andersen on her own. Who were these people? Dimitri knew. She was sure.