When I stopped, two other men stepped out from behind a tree on the side of the driveway and approached the vehicle. They both held AK-47s. They peered inside the Jeep to make sure I was alone.
“Follow the road; drive around the house,” the first man commanded with a sharp British accent.
I drove forward slowly and swung around the house. I found myself in a parking lot that I recognized from the aerial photo. Gordon Marlowe and Cameron Patel stood at the edge of the lot near the door to a big barn. Two men armed with AK-47s stood on either side of them. A regular welcoming committee. When I pulled into view, Marlowe beckoned me forward to park. I pulled up and shut off the Jeep.
Chapter 22
THE SUN ACTUALLY broke through the clouds and lit up the gravel parking lot just as I pulled up to a log that was used as a curb. Marlowe and Patel waited patiently for me. I tried to scope the place out as I approached. The barn itself was old and rustic with siding that looked to have been painted red at one time but was now mostly weathered to a silver pinkish-gray color. Horse paddocks lined the outsides of the barn, but there were no animals. In fact, the barn looked abandoned—it had most likely seen no livestock in quite some time. There were two doors on the barn’s end behind Marlowe: a large, car-sized door that was closed, and a smaller door off to the right side that was open. The brightness outside combined with the darkness within the barn made it impossible to see inside.
I reached for the duffle bag. As I did so, I quickly glanced in the rearview mirror. The three guys who’d searched the Jeep out front when I arrived were rounding the corner of the house and approaching from behind on foot. This now made a total of seven men in view—four in front, three behind. If Doc was right on his intel report—and I’d lay odds he was—there were three more men acting as sentries on the perimeter of the property. And, since he’d said there were eleven total, one more guy was floating around somewhere—maybe inside guarding Toni.
Good enough. I hopped out of the Jeep. Let the games begin.
“Mr. Logan,” Marlowe said with a smile that reminded me of a crocodile. Happy to see you. Can’t wait to eat you. As I’d come to expect, he was turned out sharply in a suit the color of dark charcoal—in other words, almost black. He wore a brightpurple tie that made a striking contrast. He waited for me as I walked toward him. “You’re right on time. I trust the drive up was not too much of an inconvenience.”
“Compared to what?” I said, looking around. There was no sign of Doc. Then again, there wouldn’t have been.
He laughed. “I apologize both for the out-of-the-way location and for the fact that events have conspired to make our relationship—how shall I put it—somewhat . . . edgy?” he said.
I walked toward him. “I think we’re past the niceties, don’t you? Why don’t you just save ’em, Marlowe.”
He stared at me for a moment, and then he smiled. “Marlowe now, is it?” he said. “I see you’ve been speaking with the authorities—that would be the FBI, I suppose. Good. I think it’s a good idea to take the hounds out every once in a while and exercise them.”
I smiled. “Remember, sometimes the hounds actually catch the fox. When they do, they usually rip it to shreds.”
“Oooh,” he said, grinning. “Sounds savage. Mustn’t allow that to happen.” He paused. “Nicely done, though—picking up and carrying the metaphor.”
“Cut the crap, Marlowe,” I said. “How about we get down to business, so we can both be on our way.”
He looked at me, and then he smiled. “Well said. We’ll do it your way, then. Shall we head inside? Let’s get down to business. You must be eager to be reunited with Ms. Blair.”
I wasn’t 100 percent comfortable with the way he worded that. Furthermore, instinctively, I didn’t much like the idea of heading inside if it could be avoided. “What’s the matter with the idea of doing our business right here? What’s wrong with just making a simple swap?” I asked. “I’ve got the device and the key, just like you said. Go ahead and bring Toni out. Give her to me. I’ll give you the duffle bag and I’m out of here. No need to complicate things.”
He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Mr. Logan,” he said. “Please. These things are complicated, wouldn’t you agree? You wouldn’t expect me to complete our major transaction without checking the merchandise, would you? I certainly expect you to do the same. In our case, we need to verify the authenticity of the key you’ve brought. Unfortunately, this will take a few minutes. We have a computer set up inside. Trust me, you’ll be quite safe. We’ll have you on your way in no time. Now, please, follow me.”
Said the fucking spider to the fly! my mind screamed. I stared at him, but he quickly turned and walked toward the open door.
I didn’t see where I had much in the way of options, so I followed. What the hell.
* * * *
I stepped through the door into the barn and was nearly instantly blinded because of the change in ambient lighting, from very bright outside to extremely dim inside. The barn floor was dirt. The air was damp and still. There was a strong musty smell that reminded me—well, it reminded me of an old barn.
After a few seconds passed, my vision adjusted to the point at which I was able to make out some details. A center walkway, maybe twelve feet wide, ran the length of the building. Box stalls—maybe twelve by twelve or so—lined both sides of the walkway—four on each side. The nearest stall on my left was completely enclosed. It had probably been used as a tack room. Likewise, the stall farthest away on the left was also enclosed—either a feed storage room or an office of some sort. All the rest of the stalls were open along the center aisle, with a wooden fence maybe five feet high fronting them and a gate into each one. Each stall also had a door outside leading to its respective paddock. All the doors and gates were closed. The stalls were in a mostly neglected state of repair with numerous planks missing from the walls and the gates.
As my eyes grew more accustomed to the light, I was able to make out Toni and Holly. They were seated on the ground, their backs against the tack-room wall. Their hands were restrained in front with zip-tie handcuffs. From the looks of them, they were both still pretty much drugged and out of it. Both had their eyes closed. Holly was propped up so that her head leaned back against the wall. Toni leaned forward; her head drooped down toward her chest.
Within a minute or so, after my eyes were pretty well adjusted, I could see that Marlowe had a small table set against a stall opposite Toni. A man sat on a stool in front of a laptop computer. A Starfire device—presumably one of the two real ones—sat on the table. Marlowe and Patel stood beside the table. Three of the armed men followed us in.
“What’s wrong with her?” I said, nodding toward Toni but not moving from the entry.
“She’s quite alright,” Marlowe answered. “We’ve given her a mild sedative. You may be pleased to know she was quite belligerent yesterday. Two of my best men were sent to the hospital and are out of commission this morning because of the lovely and talented Ms. Blair. Seems she has quite a facility with the martial arts.” He looked at me. “Feel free to examine her.”
I walked over and knelt down beside her. In the dim light, it looked like she had a bruise on the side of her face, but no other visible injuries.
“Toni,” I said softly. I pushed her back so that she leaned against the wall. “Toni, can you hear me?”
Without opening her eyes, she turned her head slowly in my direction. “Danny?”
“I’m here.”
“Danny,” she said again, “they gave me something . . .” A tear rolled down her cheek, and as it did, my heart went cold.
“Just rest easy,” I said. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
I turned back to Marlowe.
“You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you,” I said.
He looked at me. “Oh, there, there, Mr. Logan,” he said. “She’s just fine. No need to lose your composure.”
“Pardon me, but I don
’t understand someone who hurts women,” I said. “To me, only a real lowlife does something like that.”
“Sticks and stones, Mr. Logan,” he said. “Shall we get through this?” He pointed to the computer.
I stared at him. I wasn’t past it, but I wanted to get moving. “Let’s get it done,” I said.
“Splendid idea. Give me the key and the Starfire device, if you please.”
I walked toward the table and set my bag on the ground. From it, I pulled out the fake device. I’d made certain before I arrived that the detonator switch was off. I put the device and the key on the table.
“Wonderful,” Marlowe said, looking genuinely delighted. He turned to the technician behind the table. “Check it,” he ordered curtly. He pointed to the Starfire box that was already on the table—the one he’d brought. “Use this Starfire box,” he added, “not that one.”Naturally. The bomb he’d given us was not likely to decrypt anything.
The computer tech plugged the key into the real Starfire box and connected the box to his laptop. He punched a few keys and then watched his screen. A few seconds later, he turned to Marlowe. “I’m not 100percent certain what to look for here, but I’m getting a screen that says,‘Starfire Protocol—Applied Cryptographic Solutions’ at the top. Then it’s asking for a private key for factoring.”
Marlowe pulled a notebook from his breast pocket and opened it. “Plug this number in,” he said as he handed the book to the tech. “Be careful—it’s long, and it must be input precisely.”
I held my breath as the technician carefully entered the number. He hit the return key. “It says,‘Calculating. Estimated time to factor: eight hours, fifty-seven minutes.’ And it’s got a little progress bar here.”
Marlowe inspected the screen for a minute, and then he slowly smiled. “Wonderful,” he said. “I’ll be damned.”
I slowly exhaled. It worked.
“Satisfied?” I said.
He turned back to me. “Very nearly so,” Marlowe said. “I must admit that you’ve actually kept your part of the bargain. I am impressed.”
“I said I would,” I said. “Of course, you’ve already broken your word—it was just supposed to be you and me here, remember? Your words, not mine.”
“Actually, I never said that,” he said. “I said you needed to come alone. I never said I’d be alone. I’m sorry if you misunderstood that. Unfortunately for you, I’m afraid that there may be further disappointment in store for you this morning.”
I stared at him. “Which means that you don’t intend to honor your agreement,” I said. “Now that you have the box and the key, you’re not going to let us go as you agreed.”
“Let’s just say that there’s been a need to modify our arrangement,” he said. “Now that you've gone and involved the authorities, I think that I need a little insurance in case your FBI buddies are lurking about. A little—how shall I put it—a little diversion. It will help clean up a few untidy loose ends.”
Before I could react, the armed men on either side of him raised their AK-47s and pointed them directly at me. Either man could have pumped half a dozen 7.62 x 39mm NATO rounds into my chest before I covered half the distance to Marlowe. Resistance, as they say, would have been futile.
* * * *
“You may leave,” Marlowe said to the PC tech. “Shut down the laptop and take it with you. Leave it in the house. Leave the Starfire key in that device there, and leave the device on the table right where it sits.”
The PC tech had a worried look in his eye as he followed directions. He quickly folded the laptop and put it in a case, leaving only the real Starfire device with the key still inserted in it and the fake device they’d given us sitting on the table. When he was done, he hurried out of the barn like he was late to an appointment.
“You two,” Marlowe said to two of the men who’d followed us in from the driveway. “Go back outside now to your assigned positions. You,” he said to the third man, “search him.”
The two armed men with the AKs continued to cover me while the third man approached me.
“Turn around,” he said.
I did as ordered. He shoved me forward hard, propelling me up against the wall of the tack room. “Put yer hands against the wall, feet back, and spread ’em,” he said, sounding just like a TV cop. There were no games in the way he conducted his search, though. He did a very professional job of patting me down. He found my Les Baer, my Kahr, and my SureFire knife in short order. Damn. I was down to my fists—no weapons at all.
“No wires?” Marlowe said.
“Nope,” the man said. “He’s clean. ’Least now he is, anyway.”
“Excellent,” Marlowe said. He turned to me. “Sorry about all that, Mr. Logan, but it wouldn’t do to have you suddenly produce a weapon and shoot me, would it?”
“Works for me,” I said. “You’re a shit-sucking amoeba that needs stamping out. Rest assured that your time is going to come. Maybe even today. Maybe not. But soon. Real soon.”
He smiled at me. “You’re an impressively feisty fellow for one in your predicament,” he said. “No moping about or begging for mercy from you, eh?”
“What’s the point?” I said. “You’re going to do what you’re going to do, and I’m going to do what I’m going to do. One of us is going to come out on top.”
“Really?” he asked. “Mr. Logan, are you about to attempt some heroics? If so, that’d be wonderful! I love heroics. Makes me feel like I’m in an action movie.”
“Oh, I can tell that about you, Gordie- do you mind if I call you Gordie? It is Gordon Marlowe, right?"
He smiled. "As you wish," he said.
"Good. Anyway, Gordie, you seem like a pretty heroic guy. That is, if you overlook your penchant for murdering people, stealing stuff, restraining and drugging helpless women—that sort of thing. But hey, nobody’s perfect, right? And besides—other than those few little things, you’re just a real pillar of virtue, aren’t you? You’re probably a real hit on the society scene, am I right?”
“Well, I admit, sometimes it’s necessary to do unpleasant things in my line of work. Something of an occupational hazard, you might say.”
“I’d say you’re the hazard, Gordie.”
He looked at me curiously. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone quite like you, Mr. Logan,” he said. “Here you are, disarmed, in a strange setting, all manners of guns aimed at you, undoubtedly aware of what’s in store for you, yet you remain sublimely belligerent. It’s quite fascinating. It’s as if you’re purposely attempting to goad me into doing something.” He stared at me. “Is that your game, Mr. Logan?” he said with a quizzical expression on his face. “If I weren’t aware of your circumstances, I’d say you were trying to maneuver me into losing my cool for some reason.” He shook his head. “That won’t happen, I assure you. I never lose my cool.”
“Gordie,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re the coolest guy I know. If I wanted you to do something, I’d tell you. I’d be right up front about it—you wouldn’t have to figure it out. Anyway, like I said, you’re going to do what you’re going to do, and I’m going to do what I’m going to do.”
He continued to study me. “Most fascinating,” he said.
Suddenly, I took a step toward him. The gunmen on either side of him dropped into a “ready” crouch, their rifles aimed directly at my heart. “Understand this, Marlowe,” I said. “When you kidnapped Toni, you crossed a line. I mean, sure—before that, I wanted to see you behind bars for killing Thomas Rasmussen. That was a bad thing to do. But after you kidnapped Toni and threatened her and hurt her and put whatever drugs inside her, well, then you went and made it personal. So now, you need to know that I don’t want to see you in prison anymore. Prison’s too good for you, and I think we should just skip that step. This is strictly between you and me now. Got it?”
He looked at me, no longer smiling. His eyes spoke clearly—he’d heard me. The words had registered. He nodded toward someone standing
behind me. I turned just in time to see the man who’d searched me bring a hard, flat leather sap down on the side of my head. It connected solidly, and I fell to the floor, seeing stars. I looked up at Marlowe.
“Nice speech, asshole,” he said.
I’m just about tired of getting hit in the head, I thought. Then I blacked out. Again.
Chapter 23
IT’S ALWAYS AN odd sensation, waking up from being unconscious. I hate to admit it, but I’ve got more than my share of experience in the matter. You go through a real brief period where you start to wake up and you realize you’ve been dreaming—might still be, actually. Then, you move from dreams to a period of darkness in which you hear voices in the distance—voices that gradually take over and take the place of the dreams. In this case, a voice was saying, “Hit ’em again.” This was followed by a cold bucket of water in my face.
“Fu—,” I sputtered, spitting water out. Now I was awake—sorta. I tried to move my hands, but I couldn’t. I forced my eyes open and looked around, desperately trying to focus, trying to remember where I was, how I’d come to be sitting in a smelly barn next to Toni, and why I was soaking wet. Why couldn’t I move my hands? Or my feet?
I realized then that my hands were handcuffed behind me, apparently zip-tied to the railing. My feet were also zip-tied together. I was all trussed up like a turkey in a roasting pan, unable to move at all.
From that point, it took only a few seconds for things to fall into place—mentally speaking, that is. I saw that Toni’d also been splashed by the bucket of water, but she was still too groggy to be functional. Holly appeared to be completely out of it. Both girls were secured in the same manner that I was. I looked around and saw Marlowe standing eight feet away, next to his goons by the PC table.
“You’re back,” he said, smiling again. “Did you have a nice little nap?”
I cleared the remaining cobwebs from my head and tried hard to focus.
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