“Who are you?”
“Name’s Soji.”
“OK, Soji. So you’ve been taking pictures.”
Soji nodded.
“You were in Brentwood yesterday afternoon, and then in Malibu last night. You planted the tracking device when we stopped for gas.”
Soji wrinkled his face in a kind of acknowledgement of guilt.
Archer glanced inside the open door of the car and saw the laptop open on the passenger seat. He grabbed it and set it on the roof of the car.
“Turn it on,” he ordered.
Soji nodded. The operating system went swiftly through its boot-up process, then a screen covered in desktop icons appeared. Soji stepped aside.
Archer squinted at the screen and saw the icon for the GPS application. He double-clicked it. The application blinked open.
“You’re a sneaky little bugger, aren’t you?” Archer said.
Soji shrugged. “Just doing my job, dude.”
“I should drop you dead right here.”
Soji swallowed hard.
Archer made a big show of racking a bullet into the chamber of the Beretta and snicked the safety off.
“What are you still doing out here?”
“Waiting,” Soji said.
“Waiting for what?”
“Lindsay.”
“Why?”
“Dude, I told you. I’m a paparazzi. This is how I make my living.”
Archer stepped toward him and pressed the Beretta against the bridge of his nose.
“I’m tired, Soji. Tired of dealing with you. I’m in the habit of eliminating problems, and I see you as a big problem. So why don’t you tell me the truth and save me a bullet.”
“Dude, I’m telling you!”
“The coyotes and buzzards and ants will have your body picked clean by sunup. Is that what you want?”
Soji closed his eyes, feeling the hundred grand slipping from his grasp. Even that kind of dough wasn’t worth taking a bullet for.
“It’s Smackdown, man,” he sighed. “The dude on the radio. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s cut some sort of deal. He’s paying me to track you, to sit here and make sure Lindsay Hammond doesn’t slip away.”
Archer reached up and raked the laptop off the roof of the car. It fell to the ground and hit hard. The screen shattered on impact. He sighted down the Beretta and put three bullets through the plastic assembly.
“Whoa!” Soji jumped back.
Then Archer pivoted and shot out both tires on the driver side of the car. The tires quickly deflated, the aluminum rims coming to rest on the ground.
Soji stared in disbelief.
Archer ducked back inside the car and pulled the keys from the ignition and grabbed Soji’s cell phone.
“You won’t be needing these anymore,” he said. Then he turned and chucked them both as hard as he could out across the dark desert scrub. They fell away out of sight in the darkness.
Archer spotted the white earbud cords from the iPod, snatched them off the seat, and turned them over in his hands.
“Turn around,” he said.
Soji reluctantly pivoted on the sandy ground where he stood.
Archer used the thin white cord to tightly bind his wrists.
“Start walking back the way you came. Sooner or later you’ll find the highway.”
Soji gawked at him with his mouth wide open.
“Dude, you’ve got to be yanking my chain. No way I can walk out of here!”
“Better hurry while it’s still cool.”
“You’re insane, man!”
“You look like you could use the exercise.”
“Dude, please!”
“Walk.”
“Dude, I’m begging you.”
“Go.”
Soji pivoted and began to slowly move away. He followed the narrow track and was soon a vague bump on the horizon.
Archer left the yellow Toyota Prius abandoned at the gate. He found the Polaris where he’d ditched it a few hundred yards away on the other side of the fence. He had a long ride back to the compound. He turned the knobby tires in the desert dirt and goosed the throttle. Then he saw something in the sky that made his stomach drop.
It was the blinking light of an airplane, cruising west to east in the night sky high above the desert landscape. As it passed over the mountains in the distance, directly above the approximate location of the underground compound miles away, it appeared to Archer’s eyes that something dropped from the airplane. Small dark objects falling toward the earth.
CHAPTER 68
The prop-driven Twin Otter rumbled through ribbons of cloud at an altitude nearing twelve thousand feet. The pilot called over his shoulder through the open door of the cockpit.
“Two minutes!” he shouted.
The ten men rose from the jump seats and shuffled single file toward the jump door. As the plane neared the drop zone, the first man in line, Echo, slid the door open on its track and stood in the wind, peering down into the shifting darkness passing beneath them. The remaining nine men queued up behind him: Alpha. Bravo. Foxtrot. India. November. Sierra. Kilo. Tango. Oscar.
They jumped in five-second intervals, dropping through the roar of the propellers into the cool night air. When the last man had jumped, the pilot checked his watch and glanced at his gauges. He radioed ahead to Mr. Jupiter to report the successful deployment of troops.
CHAPTER 69
Archer was flying through the dust and darkness, trying to get close enough to get some sense of what it was he had seen drop from the airplane. He was still out of range to reach Raj or Simeon by radio yet.
After covering several miles at an insane speed, Archer brought the ATV to a sudden shuddering stop. The Polaris slewed sideways in the ruts. He was enveloped by a rolling cloud of dust. He pushed the goggles up to his forehead and swung the night-vision field glasses up and pressed the lenses to his face and worked them into focus. The dark shapes drifted into the green viewing field. He counted ten of them and they would be on the ground in a matter of minutes. No way he could make it back that fast. He knew it could all be over by the time he got there.
CHAPTER 70
Noella Chu had all the information she’d be able to squeeze out of Special Agent Jason Sperry. It wasn’t much, but there would be no more.
She fired one shot.
The bullet was a .22 caliber hollow point shot from a Walther P22 handgun fitted with a silencer. She had pressed the muzzle of the pistol against the back of the driver’s seat inside the Passat and pulled the trigger.
Julie Sperry jerked once against the piano wire pinning her neck to the headrest post. She moaned as she grew still. Then there was silence.
The Passat was parked in the long-term lot at LAX. Noella Chu exited the car and walked casually to the nearest terminal beneath the glare of the light poles. Earlier in the afternoon she had left the motorcycle in short-term parking at the airport and taken a taxi into the city. Now she found the bike and pulled the black helmet over her head. She left rubber on the blacktop as she turned out of the parking lot and sped like a flash toward the nearest freeway.
Noella Chu’s final conversation with Jason Sperry had netted three names and addresses that corresponded with the three phone numbers the cellular service provider had produced for the cell Special Agent Kline had given Archer. The first two numbers had billing addresses in or near Los Angeles attached to them. One was a cell phone number belonging to Lindsay Hammond in Brentwood. The second was a landline registered to someone named William Douglas Reynolds with an address in Simi Valley. And the third number was a landline registered under the name P. Lockwood in Las Vegas, Nevada.
She could automatically cross Lindsay Hammond’s cell number off the list as an avenue of pursuit. She could not think of any angle in which Lindsay’s cell number could be of value at this point.
So she turned her attention to the remaining two.
William Douglas Reynolds and P. Lockwoo
d. Just a couple of names attached to landlines a few hundred miles apart in separate states. She had to connect them. Make them the stepping stones that would lead her to Archer and then to Lindsay Hammond. Lindsay was the first of the three Archer had called. P. Lockwood was the last. She wondered what that might mean, if anything.
The call to William Douglas Reynolds was made in the predawn hours of Friday morning. The call to P. Lockwood had been made a few hours later, shortly after 7 AM. There had to be some significance to the numbers called and to the time of day the calls were made.
Noella Chu was convinced she was getting close to that one important detail that would shrink the entire world down to one tiny spot on the map. The spot that contained Lindsay Hammond.
Her first stop would be in Simi Valley, at the address registered to someone named William Douglas Reynolds. The Ninja motorcycle shot through the late night traffic like a bullet from a gun.
CHAPTER 71
William Douglas Reynolds no longer existed. Not officially. The name was nothing more than a formality stamped on a birth certificate and a Social Security card. But the name had been dropped when he dropped out of high school and became known only as Zero.
William Douglas Reynolds died from a small caliber bullet through his skull, shot from the same small caliber gun that had killed Julie Sperry earlier that evening. When the petite woman with dark hair entered his shop late that night, he’d thought nothing of it. He’d been working late, grinding a gas tank for a custom chopper. Noella Chu banged on the window. Zero opened the door. He spotted the Ninja outside and invited her in.
Noella Chu pulled the gun and demanded to know where Archer had taken the woman named Lindsay Hammond. Zero told her she could to go hell. A mist of blood and brains sprayed the cinder block wall behind him. Zero staggered back a step. The blast had come suddenly. He buckled to his knees and came to rest against the corner where the walls intersected. He died with his eyes open.
She dialed a number on the telephone in Zero’s dirty little office and Leonard Monroe told her that the five hundred million dollars was still available.
Noella Chu walked out of Zero’s office and crossed the narrow strip of pavement to her bike. She had one more address. One more chance. She was going to visit P. Lockwood in Las Vegas.
CHAPTER 72
Noella Chu was not naïve. She existed in a world of villains. Bloodsuckers. Violent, skilled, greedy killers. She was perfectly aware that she was not the only person chasing the money. There wasn’t time to waste. She regretted the few minutes she had invested in Simi Valley on the man formerly known as William Douglas Reynolds. It was best now to focus her energy on P. Lockwood.
Noella Chu’s instincts were sharp. She was born to track people and kill them. Something in her gut told her she would not be disappointed by what she found in Las Vegas. The drive would take several hours but she was confident that the trip would be worth her time. She was confident that P. Lockwood was the final stepping stone to Lindsay Hammond and the five hundred million. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. She had a bullet with Lindsay Hammond’s name on it.
CHAPTER 73
Mr. Jupiter’s business associate owned the mansion outside Burbank and the private aircraft hanger at the airport where the Twin Otter had lifted off on its sojourn into the night sky. Unlike Mr. Jupiter, his associate was as American as baseball and apple pie. He ran an empire, owned politicians and heads of state, paid few taxes. He had built his fortune by burying the competition. He was nearly ninety but stayed fit and had more energy than most men half a century younger.
His name was known by few. Mr. Jupiter was one of them.
Mr. Jupiter stood beside a fountain in the rear of the estate, cigar in one hand, glass of bourbon in the other. He was alone. His associate had been in bed for hours. Mr. Jupiter had been left in charge of the operation. His forces had been deployed. They would be on the ground at any moment. He had given them orders to spare to no one. Seek and destroy. Kill on sight. Kill without mercy. Get in and get out.
He told them he would accept no excuse for failure. He told them not to return without Lindsay Hammond’s body.
CHAPTER 74
A memory dropped into Archer’s brain. Like a reel of film spliced into his stream of thought. It was a memory from his first exposure to night combat as a young soldier. The visuals and sensations, sights and sounds and smells, all came rushing back to him. In another time and place, he was young and scared and in way over his head. The unseen enemy lurking nearby in the darkness. The white hot muzzle flashes of hostile fire. The crackle of artillery. Infantry pushing cautiously through thick jungle foliage. The mud and rain of a far-off battlefield.
Then the memory snapped away and the buzz of jungle mosquitoes was replaced by the high-pitch drone of the Polaris. He gazed through the crud caked lenses of the goggles, catching glimpses of the parachutes drifting toward the desert floor.
Archer tried to keep track of all ten chutes, but he had to concentrate on the dirt track unwinding perilously in front of him. He clutched the throttle with one hand and unclipped the walkie-talkie radio with the other. He called for Raj or Simeon.
There was no response.
The parachutes swooped westward toward the edge of the mountains. Raj was on lookout. Archer could only hope he was able to see them from his perch atop the bluff.
The Polaris bounced and shuddered, motor revving. Archer held on for all he was worth. He kept one eye on the vague track ahead and one on the darkened sky. Then he heard his walkie-talkie crackle. He heard Raj’s voice coming through the static hiss, distant, faint. Raj was shouting for help.
* * *
Raj had found a cleft in the bluff and settled in low. He slung his rifle off his shoulder and held it close to his body. The cleft was shallow and required him to press against the rock to remain reasonably hidden from view.
He watched the parachutes cascade down.
They had appeared without warning. His attention had been focused on the horizon when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye and happened to glance up. Chills tingled up his spine.
Raj watched for a moment to make certain his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Then he radioed his brother. He attempted to alert Archer, but couldn’t reach him.
* * *
Simeon hurried through a corridor to the camera monitoring room. He couldn’t yet see anything on any of the screens. He took a deep breath and processed through what his brother had just told him. They hadn’t heard from Archer in a while. They could only hope he wasn’t too far out. They needed the additional manpower. Simeon replayed Raj’s words: ten parachutes.
He didn’t want to frighten Lindsay or the kids unnecessarily, but they had to take precautions. If the parachutes represented a threat – and they almost certainly did – they couldn’t hesitate to take defensive action.
Simeon ducked back into the low-ceilinged room where the Hammond’s had gathered. Ramey and Wyatt had fallen asleep lying side by side on a sofa along the east wall. Lindsay was awake but exhausted. She glanced up when Simeon entered the room.
The look in his eyes told her the story.
* * *
Raj watched them through the night-vision scope attached to his rifle. He could only follow them one at a time. He was trying to get some idea who they were, but they were still miles away. Just dark shapes drifting past the crosshairs. He could feel his heart rate increase. It had been over a decade since he’d pulled the trigger on anyone.
CHAPTER 75
The Polaris slewed sideways and came to a shuddering stop. Archer jumped off and ran to the second gate. He had attempted to reply to Raj’s radio transmission but they apparently still couldn’t hear him. There was no time to play hide and seek with the key along the fence posts. He came within a few steps of the gate and swung the Bushmaster rifle around on its sling. He sighted down the barrel and took aim at the chunky padlock and pulled the trigger. He fired half a dozen rounds, sending
the lock clamoring side to side. Smoke trailed out through the holes where the .223 caliber bullets had penetrated. Archer gave the body of the lock a tug. The hasp opened. He pitched it aside and swung the gate wide. He quickly saddled himself back on the Polaris and raced onward into the night.
* * *
The wind currents above the desert were stubborn and forceful. Steering the parachutes proved a challenge. Bravo found himself drifting too far to the west. It was a diversion in course he found nearly impossible to correct. He would be forced to land in the mountains and pick his way toward the original landing zone along the desert floor. He glanced around and saw that most of his comrades were facing the same problem. He could see most of them, staggered in the sky above him, spiraling gently down. It would not affect the mission. It would simply briefly delay the outcome.
* * *
Raj watched them drift sharply west. He keyed his walkie-talkie again and attempted to reach Archer but got no response.
The first of the parachutes dropped behind the mountain ridges and out of sight, followed quickly by two or three others. They would be on the ground in a matter of seconds. Raj felt his throat catch. He swung the muzzle of the rifle, the field of view inside the scope panning rapidly across the night sky to the east. He found another jumper and locked on, tracking his progress toward earth. That one would drop onto the desert floor. No way around it. He would land only a few minutes away by foot.
Raj came out of the cleft and made his way along the crown of the bluff to get a better look. If he could get close enough, with a clear shot, he might be able to drop him from a few hundred yards.
* * *
Bravo was the first to land. His chute billowed, tugged by the wind. The cords attached to the chute fell slack and then pulled taut again as the chute fluttered and snagged in the brush. He unsnapped his harness and dropped the empty pack to the ground. Then he stood and glanced up.
72 Hours (A Thriller) Page 14