Danny reached down to his belt. He wrapped his fingers around the plastic and metal object hanging there. It came free with one smooth motion and Danny pressed it to the team leader’s stomach. He thumbed the button. The team leader stopped dead, then began to convulse as the stun gun slammed 80,000 volts of electricity through his body. Danny let go of the trigger and the team leader collapsed to the pavement.
“I quit,” Danny said calmly. He turned and walked away.
When he got to the corner, he raised his hand for a cab. He knew he didn’t have long to get to his apartment and pack. By the time the cops got there, he’d be long gone. As the cab pulled to a stop and Danny got in, he started whistling.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I can’t tell you where I am right now, Dad,” Marie was saying. They were standing outside the car in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart. Powell and Riggio were inside getting supplies. “Yes. Ben’s with me. I know. I know. No, Jack didn’t have anything to do with it, and neither did I. But, Dad, listen to me. If anyone comes to the door that you don’t know, don’t let them in. Don’t even answer it. Anyone approaches you that you don’t know, don’t talk to them. The man who killed Carson and took Ben…he’s loose somewhere. He’s looking for us. He may try to find out where we are by…by trying to get you. Yes, Dad, I know. We’re going to do that. But first we have to get somewhere safe. And you need to be careful, okay?
Okay? Dad?” She looked at the cell phone in frustration. “Damn it!”
“He got the message, though,” Keller said. He was sitting on the hood of the car a few feet away from her. “That’s the important thing.”
“Yeah,” Marie said. “He thinks this is your fault, by the way.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Keller said.
“Well, this time he’s wrong,” she replied. “I’m sorry, Jack. I never should have gotten you into this.”
He shrugged. “I’m the one who offered,” he said. “I volunteered.”
“Kind of,” she said, “but I could have turned you down.” She hopped up onto the hood next to him. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. “Are you all right?” she said. “Is all of this…you know…”
Keller examined his feelings. He felt fine. Better than fine, actually. He felt great. He sighed at the realization.
“You know me,” he said. “I’m never happier than when I’m in the middle of a major shitstorm.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s what worries me.”
“I’ll be okay,” he said.
“I hope so.” She kissed him. “Did you get hold of Angela?”
“Yeah. I filled her in. She’s keeping a lookout. Oscar, too. She’ll call Lucas.”
“What about Scott?”
Keller flipped the phone open. “I need to call Scott myself.” He hit a speed-dial button. After two rings, Scott McCaskill’s confident baritone came on the line.
“You’ve reached the law offices of Scott McCaskill,” the recording began. At the beep, Keller said, “Scott, this is Jack Keller—” There was a click and McCaskill’s voice came on. “Jack?” he said. “Where the hell are you, son?”
“Working late, aren’t you, Scott?”
“I’ve been catching up,” McCaskill responded. “Things have been a little busy around here, Jack, what with the local detectives, the FBI, Bragg CID, and about five different scary guys with credentials I never saw before wanting to know all about you. Mind telling your faithful attorney what the hell’s going on?”
“What were they asking?” Keller said.
“Everything from where you lived to your shoe size. I told them nothing, of course.”
“Of course,” Keller said. “Were they asking about any, ah, incident in particular?”
“Yeah, son, they were,” McCaskill said softly. “They were asking about Tammy Healy.” There was a pause. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you, Jack?” McCaskill said. His voice was bleak.
“No, Scott, I didn’t. I swear it. But I think I know the guy who did.”
“Good. I don’t suppose I could persuade you to bring the cocksucker to me,” McCaskill said. “Tammy Healy was a friend of mine. I’d surely like to have a little talk with the man who did that to her.”
Keller was shocked at the savagery in his voice. “Actually, Scott,” he said, “I’m trying to avoid him myself right now. And you may want to be careful about doing the same. He’s not likely to be as nice about asking where I am as the cops were.”
“Ah,” McCaskill replied. “So that’s how it is. He wants you bad, I take it.”
“He wants information about some people I know,” he said. “And I think I might have pissed him off a little.”
“You do have a talent for that,” McCaskill said. “This has anything to do with those missing guys from Bragg?”
“Have you checked this line lately?” Keller asked.
This time it was McCaskill who sounded shocked. “You think they’d tap my—” He paused. “Stupid question. Of course they would.”
“Just be careful, Scott,” Keller said.
“Jack,” McCaskill said, “you think any of my staff people might be in danger?”
Keller looked into the car at Ben, who was playing with the stuffed frog they had picked up at the overlook.
“Maybe. This guy’s not really discriminating. If he thinks they might know something…”
“Got it,” McCaskill said. “Looks like it’s time for a little firm retreat. I can get Judge Waring to continue my cases for a few days. I hear Vermont’s lovely this time of year.”
“Impressive.”
“These people have been with me for ten years or more, Jack,” McCaskill said. “And I saw what that bastard did to Tammy. I…” He stopped. Keller heard his breathing on the other end of the line. When he spoke again, his voice was normal. “I was the one who ID’d the body.”
“I didn’t know you were that close,” Keller said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. You be careful. And Jack—”
“Yeah?”
“I was just kidding about bringing him to me.”
“I figured.”
“If you find him, kill the sonofabitch yourself. I’ll defend you for free.”
“Is that legal advice, Scott?”
McCaskill sighed. “No. So you should probably ignore it. Yeah, you should definitely ignore it.”
“I probably will,” Keller said. He hung up.
They drove for several hours. The terrain on either side of the road grew rougher, rocky bluffs rising abruptly to loom over them on one side of the road and dropping away precipitously on the other. Here and there, clumps of vegetation had forced their way between tiny chinks in the stone, patiently clawing their own way into the mountain. These hills were already ancient, ground down to stumps of their former selves by the slow abrasion of years. Man had added his own faster talent for destruction; the stone was gouged with long straight channels where huge machines had ripped into the mountainside to create the roadway. They looked like the marks of gargantuan talons. Occasionally, the road widened enough for a small house or tiny store to cling precariously to the roadside. They gradually climbed higher into the hills, their ears popping as the air pressure decreased. After a while, they turned off the main road onto a rougher and narrower two-lane byway. Now there were trees on both sides of the road. There were no more houses.
“Turn here,” Powell said. Keller stopped the car. A gravel road led off to the right, heading upward. A wooden sign was nailed to a tree at the entrance: copperhead road. no trespassing.
“Friendly,” Keller said. He wheeled the Crown Vic onto the gravel track. The big car crunched and bounced over the ruts.
“Is this thing going to make it?” Riggio said.
“Don’t worry,” Keller said. “It used to be a cop car. And I beefed the suspension up a little bit beyond cop specs.”
“Not much further,” Powell said.<
br />
They rounded a curve and came out of the trees. After the bend, the road sloped sharply upward. Keller could see the steel skeleton of a fire tower at the top of the rise.
A small log cabin crouched at its feet.
“Honey,” Powell said. “I’m home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The ringing of the phone jarred Holley’s eyes open. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to focus.
His head throbbed and his eyes felt like the corneas had been rubbed with sandpaper. His right hand went automatically to the .357 revolver on the bedside table. He picked it up as he swung his legs to the floor. A nearly empty vodka bottle rolled beneath his foot. He kicked it away. He snapped the cylinder of the pistol open. One bullet, just like always. He spun the cylinder, then snapped it shut. He held the gun in his right hand and picked the phone up with his left.
“Yeah?” he said. His throat felt as rough and abraded as his eyes.
“So, Markey, howzit?” a familiar voice said.
Holley looked at the gun in his other hand. “Can’t complain,” he said.
“You’re looking for work? Well-paying work?”
Holley continued to stare at the pistol. He brought the gun to his temple and closed his eyes.
“Hello?” DeGroot said. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” Holley said. “Still here.” His finger tightened on the trigger, just shy of the breaking point.
“So? Interested?”
The trigger broke. The hammer fell on an empty chamber. Holley opened his eyes.
“What was that?” DeGroot said.
“The alarm,” Holley replied.
“Ah,” DeGroot said. “Are you all right, bru? You sound like you got a bit of a babalaas,” He used the Afrikaanas for hangover.
Holley looked at the vodka bottle. There was still some left. He felt the thirst pierce him like an ice pick. “Out late last night.”
“That’s fine,” DeGroot said. “But I need you sharp for this one, Markey D. Can you manage that?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m in.”
“We’re having a meeting tomorrow,” DeGroot said. As before, he named a time and a meeting place.
“North Carolina?” Holley said. “Yeah. I’m only a few hours away.”
“See you then,” DeGroot said.
“Okay,” Holley said. He hung up the phone. He picked up the bottle. A half inch of liquid remained. He sloshed it around and looked at it reflectively for a moment. Then he put it down. There was no need now. He had a mission. But his hands were still shaking. That wouldn’t do. He opened the drawer of the bedside table and took out a small plastic bag and a pack of rolling papers. Carefully, cursing his trembling hands, he rolled himself a conical joint of prime weed laced with a sprinkling of black Afghan hashish. He tucked the joint in his shirt pocket and rolled another. This one he lit. Ahhh. That was better. Once the shit started, he’d stay clean and sober. But for now, he needed a little lift. And if what DeGroot had told him about the mission was true, he’d have enough cash for all the drinks and weed a man could ask for.
***
“What is this place?” Keller said. They were standing in the main room of the cabin. It was small but comfortably furnished. There was a main room with a wood stove in one corner. A tiny kitchen area was just off the main room to the right. Three bedrooms, two in the back and one to the left, opened on to the main room.
“Agency safe house,” Powell said. “Back in the day, they used to bring Russian defectors up here to debrief. They don’t use it much anymore.”
“Mom!” Ben called from one of the bedrooms. “Bunk beds! I get a top one, okay?”
“Okay, honey,” Marie called back. She turned to Powell. “How did you find it?”
“We were running an exercise five, six years ago,” Powell answered. “The Agency lent it to us.”
“And how long do you think it’ll be,” Keller said, “before somebody at the Army or the FBI puts two and two together once they realize that you’re in these mountains?”
Powell sighed. “Not long,” he admitted. “We may have to move again.”
Riggio had entered the room from outside. “So where would we go?” he said.
Powell just looked at him. Comprehension dawned on Riggio’s face. “Oh, no,” he said. “Oh, hell, no!”
“You got any better ideas?” Powell demanded. “The place is a goddamn fortress. And no one would ever think of looking there. Hell, there probably aren’t twenty people other than us who know the place even exists.”
“If it still does,” Riggio said glumly. He chewed at a fingernail. “Okay,” he said. “We can check it out.”
“What are you talking about?” Keller demanded.
“There’s this guy…,” Powell began. “His name’s Harland. He’s got this camp up in the mountains, right on the edge of the national park. We sort of stumbled on him while we were out in the bush.”
“What kind of camp?” Keller asked.
“A goddamn nut house is what it is,” Riggio muttered.
“Harland was in Nam,” Powell went on. “He was a Green Beret. He spent a lot of time raising hell up in the Highlands with the Montagnards. But it made him a little squirrelly. Or maybe it was coming back made him that way, I don’t know. He started talking about the end of the world, the collapse of civilization, all sorts of shit like that. He’d racked up a lot of good operations in Nam, so they kept reassigning him, trying to keep him out of trouble. But he wouldn’t shut up.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Riggio said.
“Mike?” Powell said. “We get it, okay?” Riggio looked sullen, but quieted down. “Anyway,” Powell said, “Harland got bounced out on a psycho discharge. So he came home.”
Marie spoke up. “What happened to him?”
Riggio laughed. “He wrote a book. And the damn thing became a bestseller.”
“Wait a minute,” Keller said. “Are we talking about Nathaniel Harland?”
“Yep,” Riggio said.
“I remember him,” Marie said. “He was on a whole bunch of talk shows a few years ago. I remember he was really intense and spooky-looking.”
“That’s our boy,” Riggio said sourly.
“What was the name of that book?” Marie wondered.
“After the Storm,” Riggio and Powell said in unison.
“You read it?” Marie asked.
Riggio grimaced. “No. He read it to us.”
“I thought he was dead,” Keller said.
Powell shook his head. “Nope. He took the money and ran. Set up this camp way the hell back in the mountains. A whole bunch of other folks went with him. They were going to ride out ‘the firestorm’ they said was coming. Things really peaked right before Y2K. Must have been about a hundred people up there by then. After a while, though, civilization didn’t collapse, and people got pretty tired of crapping outdoors. Folks started drifting away. But Harland’s still up there.” He glanced at Riggio. “And he’s got food, and guns, and a position you’d need a battalion to take, and only then if you really didn’t want to use the battalion for anything much afterward.”
Riggio ran his hand through his hair. “I know, bro, I know. But, damn, I’m not looking forward to listening to that son of a bitch rattle on about the end of the world.” He looked up. “And you know what? I’m tired of running. We never should have gotten ourselves in this mess in the first place.”
“Roger that,” Powell said sadly. “And now Dave’s dead because of it. And a whole lot of other people.”
“We should just turn ourselves in and take what’s coming to us, bro,” Riggio said.
“You may not get that far,” Keller said. “DeGroot’s still out there.”
“He’s not thinking about us,” Riggio said, “He’s running to save his own skin now.”
Keller shook his head. “No,” he said. “He’s still after you. This guy isn’t going to give up. He wants that money, and he wants us dea
d. And this guy isn’t going to give up until he gets what he wants.”
“How do you know that?” Powell demanded.
“Because, in some ways,” Keller said, “he’s a lot like me.”
“Jack,” Marie said, “You know that’s not true.”
Keller looked at her. “I wish you were right, Marie,” he said. “God knows, I really do. But I’ve looked him in the eye. And I’ve seen that look. I’ve seen it in the mirror.”
“Except,” Marie said softly, “you’re not a cold-blooded killer.”
“Yet,” Keller said. “And I’ve got you to thank for that.”
He shook his head. “But trust me on this. This guy’s coming. He’ll figure a way. And that’s why I have to go after him.”
“What!” Marie said.
“I’m not much good at waiting for people to come kill me, Marie,” Keller said. “And remember how this guy works. He’s willing to use the people you care about against you. And some of the people we both care about are out there. Angela. Oscar. Your dad.”
“But we warned them,” Marie said. “They’ll be on the lookout. And the police, the FBI—”
“Couldn’t protect us,” Keller finished for her. “How are they going to cover everyone we know? Hell, they may be using them as bait just like they did us.”
“They don’t know anything,” Marie said. “DeGroot has to know that.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But then he’ll just start killing them until we give up and come out.”
“How do you think you’re going to find him?” Riggio demanded.
Keller gave him a mirthless smile. “Finding people is what I do,” Keller said. “And if I can’t find him nearby, I know where he’ll be going. While I’m out,” he told Powell and Riggio, “I’ll call the CID guy who was looking for you. The guy who was at the overlook. I’ll tell him you want to come in. See what he says. Maybe he can run interference with the FBI for you. I don’t know.” He walked over and gently swung the door of the bedroom open. Ben was on the lower bunk, fast asleep. “Get him up,” Keller told Marie. “This place may be blown. We need to head for this Harland guy. I’ll go with you to make sure you get settled. Then I’ll go after DeGroot.”
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