“That’s not the plan,” Jack insisted. “We have an agreement--”
“And it’s changed,” the killer said. “Vince, you have twenty minutes to get to the church, and if Dana’s not with you, there’ll be hell to pay. Oh, and don’t try to have Jack come in your place because I’ll know if it’s you. I’ll know.”
Before Jack could say another word, the man ended the call.
“Sonofabitch.” Jack slapped his notes on the table. He looked at Vince to see if he had any doubts about doing this.
He didn’t.
But Grace did. She was already shaking her head. “This can’t be good. Why'd he do this?”
“To keep us confused and off balanced,” Jack answered. He glanced at Dana. She seemed relieved until she looked at Vince. The worry in her eyes returned.
“I’m assuming you have some hand-to-hand combat skills?” Jack asked Vince.
“Plenty,” Vince assured him. “And we’re wasting time arguing about something we can’t change. Besides, he screwed up big time with this swap. No offense, Jack, but I can kick his ass a lot faster and harder than you can.”
Jack didn’t doubt it, but the change made the knot in his stomach even tighter. Because Vince was right. Why would the killer want to go up against a CIA assassin?
Why?
Jack looked at Vince who was already staring at him. “He’s going to try to kill you first,” Jack said.
“Yeah. He wants me out of the way bad.” Vince tipped his head to the dragon skin. “I’m going to need that.”
Jack was already peeling off his shirt because by his calculations, they had just enough time to change and get the hell out of there so Vince could face down this killer.
#
“Vince knows how to take care of himself,” Dana whispered to Grace. But she knew it wouldn’t do much to soothe her nerves. Nothing had soothed Dana when she’d thought Jack was going out there, and she figured Grace felt the same way about Vince.
Dana looked at Jack who was in the front seat of the SUV. Rusty was behind the wheel. Anthony was in the backseat, and they were all keeping watch as Rusty pulled to a stop in the garage of the small rental house. As he'd done at the first safe house, Jack waited until the garage door was completely closed before he got them inside.
The place was bare, not a stick of furniture, but there were large boxes on the floor and closed blinds on all the windows. A security system, too, that Jack turned on once they were inside. Jack and the others also brought in bags of equipment and started to set up, using the boxes as tables. Within just a few minutes, they had monitors not just to show the exterior of the rental house but the church as well.
“You there, Vince?” Jack said, speaking into a small dime-size communicator he clipped to his shirt collar.
Grace hurried across the room to Jack, probably so she could hear what Vince was saying, and Jack clicked a few buttons to put the conversation on audio.
“I’m approaching the church now,” Vince said, and on the monitor Dana saw the black van pull to a stop directly in front of the church’s back entrance.
Rusty used another monitor to pan around the area. Dana didn’t know how many security cameras they’d set up, but there seemed to be a lot of them. She could literally see all angles of the street and parking lot. No one other than Vince was in sight.
“You have a thermal scan reading on the church?” Vince asked.
“Yeah.” Jack’s attention went to another monitor. “Just one man inside, up in the balcony. He’s armed, and it doesn’t appear to be a tranquilizer gun. The way he’s holding it, I’m guessing it’s a rifle.”
Dana saw the red blotch on the screen. “It that the killer?”
“Probably not,” Jack answered. “His height and build don't match Janski, Arrington, Samuel Wright or Rory Sullivan. Nor Eric. Because his build would match mine and Vince’s. This guy’s got some bulk, and he’s about six, six.”
So, this was a hired gun. A big one.
“Be careful, Vince,” Grace said.
“I will.” He blew her a kiss, added a cocky smile and adjusted the communicator on his collar. “Show time.”
Because she didn’t want him distracted, Dana backed up a little to give Jack, Rusty and Anthony some space, but she stayed close enough to watch the monitors. Grace did the same. Dana prayed that they didn’t see anything horrible on those screens, and while she was praying she asked for Vince’s safe return.
Vince drew a handgun, got out of the van and went to the back where he lifted out Patricia’s body. Thank God she was covered with a blanket, even though her face and hair were visible.
Dana shuddered.
It was like looking at herself dead.
Vince kept hold of the gun that he hid beneath Patricia, and he started into the church.
“What if that man in the balcony just shoots Vince the second he walks in?” Grace asked in a hoarse whisper.
“The killer doesn’t want to shoot him,” Dana reminded her. “Not with a bullet anyway. And if he manages to use a tranquilizer dart, Jack will have his men move in.”
At least that’s how Dana understood the plan, but she hated when Vince stepped into the church and was no longer in sight. Jack adjusted one of the camera angles, and Dana could see a shadowy image through the church window, but she couldn’t even be sure it was Vince.
“Christ, is it dim enough in here?” Vince grumbled. “I got two lights. One behind the altar and the other in the back corner.”
“You want to pull back?” Jack asked.
“No way. I can see what I need to see. I’m moving to the altar,” Vince said. “Let me know the minute this jackass shows.”
“I will,” Jack assured him.
Dana didn’t know what was worse--the quiet that followed or not being able to see Vince. Her stomach was twisting and turning. Her heartbeat was crashing in her ears. And she didn’t know how much more of this she could take.
“Incoming,” Rusty said, his voice cutting through the silence.
Dana’s gaze flew to the monitor that had captured both Jack and Rusty’s attention. She saw a man walking not near the church but on the sidewalk just up from the house where they were.
“It’s probably nothing,” Jack said, but he kept his gaze fastened to the monitor. Anthony moved to the front door and lifted the blinds a fraction so he could peer out the corner of the window.
The incoming man was wearing what appeared to be a raincoat and a baseball cap. That didn’t lessen any of her fears and concerns. Especially since it was midnight. Hardly the time for an evening stroll while dressed like a flasher.
“Maybe it’s the killer,” Grace whispered, though she had her attention on the monitor with the church. “If so, that means he can’t go after Vince.”
Yes, but then there was the question of how the killer would know they were there at the rental house. Jack and his men had been careful and made sure no one had followed them.
“What the hell?” Jack hurried to Rusty’s monitor and moved in for a closer look.
Dana’s heart went to her knees. Obviously, Jack saw something that put the alarm on his face and in his voice. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
But Jack just shook his head. “What is he doing here?”
#
Vince mumbled some profanity. Jack’s question was not one he wanted to overhear.
“What’s going on there?” Vince whispered into his communicator. He kept watch on the armed turd in the dimly lit balcony. The one who was trying to stay out of sight behind a support column, but Vince could hear his breathing. Fucking amateur. Just what he didn’t need because amateurs were often trigger happy. “Jack?”
“We have a visitor,” Jack finally answered.
Because of the jolt of adrenaline he’d just gotten, Vince’s mind went to a worst case scenario. Had the killer managed to get to the others? Had the real danger been at the rental house and not the church?
“Who?” Vi
nce demanded.
“Samuel Wright.”
Until he heard the name, Vince hadn’t known what he’d expected Jack to say. And he sure as hell didn’t know what it meant that one of their four suspects was at the very place he shouldn’t be.
“What does he want?” Vince asked.
“I’m about to find out. I’m switching your communicator to Rusty.”
Vince cursed. He didn’t want to be switched. He wanted to know what the hell was going on now. Grace and Dana were in that house, and this asshole Wright, Eric or whatever his name was, could be there to finish them off.
“You have incoming,” he heard Rusty say. That got Vince’s attention, and he watched the turd in the balcony while he waited for Rusty to continue. “It appears to be a white male wearing a raincoat and hat. Dressed exactly like our visitor. And yours is walking toward the front door of the church.”
Since this could turn into gunfire from two different directions, Vince walked backwards to the altar. It took some maneuvering, but he managed to lay down the body while keeping his gun ready.
And he waited.
“What’s going on with Wright?” he asked Rusty.
“Jack’s about to find out.”
That was something else Vince didn’t want to hear. “I guess Jack’s considered that this could be a trick to draw him out?”
“Yeah. We’re keeping watch. You do the same,” Rusty said.
“No plans to do otherwise.”
“I’m moving two of our men closer to you,” Rusty added. “But they’ll still have a thirty, maybe forty second response time.”
In other words, Vince could be screwed, but then he’d known that right from the start. The trick was to screw someone else before they could do it to you.
“I don’t want them any closer in case this is a decoy meant to draw us out into the open,” Rusty explained, though no explanation was necessary. Vince figured the killer wasn’t just going to stroll into the church. No. This guy was smart, and he’d do something to make them show their hand.
Like sending in a decoy. Or two.
Vince calculated the angle that he’d need to take out the turd, and to shave off a split second of reaction time, he adjusted his stance. In doing so his arm brushed against Patricia’s face.
Shit.
Whatever warming up process they’d used, it hadn’t worked. She was dead cold, and it made his skin crawl. Made him sick, too, because that was Grace’s face and a really bad reminder of how the turd’s boss wanted all of this to end.
“Can you spot a weapon on my incoming?” Vince asked Rusty.
“Nothing visible, but he could hide an elephant gun beneath that coat.”
Not exactly reassuring, but now Vince knew what he was up against--a man armed with just about anything.
Vince wanted to ask what was going on with Wright, but it wasn’t time for that. He had to trust that Jack could handle that situation, even though it was hard considering that Grace’s safety was in Jack’s hands. Still, Vince had his own fish to fry.
“Your incoming’s at the door,” Rusty relayed. “His hands are in his pockets.”
Of course, they were. The killer wasn’t going to make this easy, and in the back of his mind Vince wondered if all of this was some kind of theatrics meant to distract him.
Maybe.
But he wasn’t the distractible type.
“Say the word and I’ll send our men running to you,” Rusty instructed.
Vince would do just that, but for now he shut out Rusty and focused only on the door. It was old, and it creaked when his visitor opened it.
The man stepped in, and he lifted his hands into the air as if surrendering.
The light in the place sucked, but it was plenty good enough for Vince to realize this wasn’t one of their suspects. Well, unless it was Eric hiding behind a cosmetically altered face.
“You’re Vince Langford?” he asked.
Vince volleyed his attention between the turd and this newcomer. “Who’s asking?”
“A messenger.”
“Oh, yeah? What kind of message you got for me?”
“A bad one,” he said. He pulled open the sides of his jacket.
Vince aimed, ready to pull the trigger, but he stopped. And cursed. Yeah, that was some bad message all right.
Beneath the coat, the man was stark naked except for one thing. He had a big fucking bomb strapped to his chest.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Jack Cain?” Wright called out from the other side of the door. “I know you’re in there, and I have a message for you.”
Jack choked back a groan and motioned for Dana and Grace to get down on the floor. They did, and Anthony moved over to stand guard in front of them. Jack had no intentions of opening the door to this man, but that didn’t mean Wright, or whoever he was, wouldn’t try to shoot into the house. Of course, if the man made any kind of move to pull out a weapon, Jack would do his own shooting and would take this guy out.
“Vince has a big problem,” Rusty relayed. “The guy who came into the church appears to have bomb.”
Grace gasped and would have gotten up if Dana hadn’t latched onto her to make her stay put.
Hell.
This was not how Jack wanted the evening to play out. “Send our men in.” He couldn’t risk this being a decoy or the bomb being fake. Vince had to get out of there.
“Jack?” Wright called out again. “I got a call from a man who said I had to come here and give you a warning. If I didn’t, all of us would die, including my family.”
Jack didn’t answer the man. He kept his attention pinned to the monitors in case Wright was some kind of distraction and also to make sure that Vince wasn’t getting blown to smithereens.
“I’m not Eric,” Wright continued. “I’ll have a DNA test done if you think it’ll prove I’m not a crazy killer.”
At the moment Jack didn’t care squat about DNA. He saw two of his men moving in on the church. Rusty was giving them instruction on how approach the possible bomber.
“I’m not a crazy killer,” Wright repeated. “But I’m pretty sure the guy who called me is. He said I was to come here and tell you that you have a microchip in your body. The second shot the doctor gave you had a tracking device.”
Jack's stomach went to his knees. There wasn’t profanity strong enough for him to use.
“Sweet Jesus,” Grace mumbled.
And Dana repeated it.
Jack was about to remind them that it could be a lie. Or not. After all, Wright was here, and he’d found them somehow. It would explain why he’d been tranquilized in the first place.
It was all so he would be taken to the nearest hospital.
“Get Dana and Grace in the SUV,” Jack told Anthony. “Now! And, Rusty, you go with them. Get them as far away from me as possible. Call in the other men to guard the SUV.”
“No!” Dana shouted.
“Just do it,” Jack ordered, and he left no room in his voice for an argument. Because there wouldn’t be one.
Anthony latched onto both women and started toward the garage while Rusty grabbed one of the monitors and one of the equipment bags. There weren’t any exterior cameras here, no immediate backup, either, because Jack hadn’t thought there was any way for the killer to track them here. He’d been wrong, and he hoped that wasn’t a deadly mistake.
“Where are you going?” Dana asked Jack as Anthony was hauling her out of there.
“To the church, after I deal with Wright.” If he personally couldn’t keep Grace and Dana safe, then he might as well do something to draw the killer off their trail. Jack would offer himself for them.
Jack waited until he heard Anthony start the SUV, and he knew the moment the garage door was open that Anthony would go barreling out of there.
That didn’t happen.
The lights went out, plunging the room into total darkness.
And worse.
It meant Anthony couldn’t use the
remote to open the garage. Jack ran toward them. He’d need to open the door manually so that the others could escape. But he only made it a few steps.
The sound of the shot blasted through the air.
#
Vince kept one eye on the would-be bomber and the other on the gunman in the balcony.
He also checked for the fastest way to escape.
That would be the back door, the way he came in, but first he had to access this situation. For one thing, he was getting just garble from Rusty. Apparently, something was going on at the rental house.
Which meant something was going on with Grace.
There was also the issue of Jack’s men. They were closing in on the church, no doubt about that, but Vince was thinking this wasn’t a closing in kind of scenario. Because of the timer attached to that explosive device on the guy’s chest. The numbers on it were blood red and ticking down. According to it, there’d be a big bang soon.
In one minute and four seconds.
“If you blow us to bits,” Vince snarled, “there won’t be much left to strangle. What kind of orders did your boss give you?”
“I’m to die,” he said, none too calm like.
It didn’t do much to calm the guy in the balcony either, because he grumbled out a holy shit and started running down the stairs. Vince didn’t think the turd was running so he could get in a better position to shoot him. This guy was booking it out of there fast. And so would Vince.
In about twenty seconds.
“Who told you to die?” Vince asked.
He shook his head. “The man who arranged this. I have cancer, no insurance, and he’s giving my family a lot of money.”
Of course, he was, and that meant this was some kind of distraction.
Vince saw Jack’s men converge behind the guy, but he waved them off. The turd gunman went racing out the side exit.
“The guy in the doorway’s got a bomb,” Vince relayed to Jack’s men.
And that was Vince’s exit line.
He adjusted his aim, just in case the guy had other asshole orders to shoot, and he scooped up Patricia’s body. The woman had already been through enough, and he wasn’t going to let her be blown to bits.
Dead Ringers Page 23