by L. T. Ryan
The Audi hit the ground, dipped and bounced and grated and skid. Sasha powered on the brakes. They slipped and spun and screeched along the road, through the grass, coming to a stop facing the opposite direction, looking right at the train.
The glove box in front of Jack opened when they hit the ground. An air freshener landed in his lap. It had a picture of two oranges on the front. That explained the smell in the car. Must have been faint enough that only he had smelled it.
The train lumbered on, three hundred cars or so to go. It’d take at least fifteen minutes, maybe more. That, Jack figured, was all they needed.
“OK, want to tell me what all that was about?” Sasha said.
“First turn the car around and get moving.”
She threw it into reverse, plowed backward, not seeming to care that the car went off road. Not like it would do any more damage than jumping the tracks had done.
“I still don’t trust Jon,” Jack said.
“Jon? He’s clean. You can trust me on that.”
“I trust you. I don’t trust him. And I don’t want us to be in a situation where we have Leon and Dottie in custody, and then have Jon turn on us. I don’t think a single one of us wants to be responsible for Alex being murdered.”
“Sure about that?” Bear said. “You shot him once already.”
“And if it means saving my daughter’s life, I’d do it again. So how about we not let it come down to that? We’ve got the drop on Leon and Dottie. Let’s keep it that way.”
“What if Jon called ahead?” Bear said.
“He hasn’t,” Sasha said.
“How do you know?” Bear said.
Sasha shook her head, said nothing.
“What?” Jack said.
She still said nothing.
“Tell us.”
“You’re not that far off, Jack.”
“Say what?”
“We’ve been watching him for some time. The suspicion is there.”
“And you just gave me crap over implicating him in this.”
She glanced at him, then back at the road.
Silence resumed for the next twenty minutes. Jack figured by this point Jon and Alex were moving again. Either the train had passed, or they’d backtracked and found another route. If his hunch had been wrong, and he hoped it had, they’d just have to deal with being ditched.
The surrounding area started to show signs of life. Generously spaced cottages lined the road. Views of the coast on the south side filled in the gaps between homes.
“How much further?” Bear said.
Jack glanced at the GPS. “We’re close. Sasha, I want you to get us a street inland. We can approach the house on foot.”
“Should we pass by first?”
“I wouldn’t chance it.”
So Sasha turned at the next street and ignored the GPS as it pestered her to turn left. When they were even with the location, she stopped the car. All three got out. The trunk popped open. Jack grabbed a spare Sig P226 and strapped an HK MP7 across his chest. The M4 would be a bit much, so he left it in the trunk and encouraged Bear to do the same. He hoped the area was as deserted as it looked. Even if someone phoned the police, it’d take at least ten minutes for a car to arrive. The ordeal should be finished by then.
They passed through someone’s yard and stepped into a narrow wooded area. Dead leaves crunched under their feet as they moved closer to the house. Two playful squirrels scurried up a tree. As they neared the last row of trees, the house came into full view.
A car Jack didn’t recognize sat in the driveway with its trunk and rear doors open. No signs of life were present otherwise.
“Think that’s it?” Bear said.
“That’s the address she gave us,” Sasha said.
A car passed by. A child in the backseat made brief eye contact with Jack. He watched the car as it raced down the street. The brake lights he anticipated never flashed.
The front door of the house across the street opened. A screen door squeaked on rusted hinges. An older woman stepped into view.
“Dottie,” Jack said.
“Really?” Bear said.
“That’s her.”
“She got old.”
Jack said nothing. He watched not only the woman as she approached the car, but the house behind her. No one else emerged. No faces concealed themselves behind darkened windows. That he could see, at least.
Dottie’s hands were empty. She leaned into the backseat, pulled out a bag and tossed it to the ground. Then she walked to the rear of the car, turned her back to them and leaned into the trunk. She pulled out another bag, tossed it next to the other one. She was unloading the car. Either they were going to wait it out at the house, or they had other plans made for their escape.
“Let’s go,” Sasha said.
Before Jack could tell her to wait, the woman took off running.
“Wait,” Bear said.
“Come on,” Jack said.
They crossed the street after Sasha. Jack prepared himself to take a bullet. They were sitting ducks. This was not the approach he had anticipated.
Dottie rose up, looked over her shoulder. She leaned back in the trunk and emerged again, this time with a rifle. She fired blind. The recoil nearly knocked her into the trunk. The shot echoed in the woods behind them. The bullet had hit none of them.
Jack drew his pistol to fire, but Sasha already had. Dottie jerked back to the left, then fell forward to her knees. She then eased over and rested against the car’s rear bumper.
Jack had a dozen things he wanted to say to the woman. Questions he had to ask. But he didn’t. He kept going right past her and said, “Keep an eye on her.”
CHAPTER 69
“Where the hell are you going?” Bear said.
Jack didn’t answer him.
“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know,” Sasha said.
Bear glanced around at the neighboring houses. No doors had opened. Nobody hung out on their front porch watching what happened. There were no sirens approaching. The place must’ve been abandoned. A neighborhood full of summer vacation houses, he figured. Maybe during the off season it was the type of neighborhood that was busy on the weekends, deserted during the week. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to complain about the lack of attention.
Sasha bounced from one foot to the other. She, too, scanned the area. Although her focus seemed to be centered more on the house in front of them than those that surrounded them.
“Help me move her,” Bear said.
Dottie remained barely conscious. Blood flowed from her wound and stained her clothes crimson. Bear doubted she would last long enough for an ambulance to arrive.
Sasha positioned herself near the woman’s feet. She refused to holster her weapon. Instead, she threaded her left arm around Dottie’s ankles and hoisted the woman’s legs into the air. Together, she and Bear moved Dottie from behind the vehicle to the side of the house. A couple tall hedges blocked them from the street.
Bear set her on the ground and assessed her condition. He confirmed what he thought earlier. Dottie had little time left. Pulse weak and thready. Respirations short, labored and infrequent. Her eyes focused beyond anything that existed. She was slipping into that uncertainty that is death.
“She doesn’t have much longer,” Bear said. “Go find Jack and make sure he’s OK.”
There was no answer.
“Sasha?” Bear looked over his shoulder, rose, turned, didn’t see her.
The wind came in off the coast and rattled the leaves of the hedges.
“Sasha?” he repeated.
Again, no answer.
“Dammit.” He looked down at Dottie. He’d spent time around the woman in the past. Not as much as Jack, so the bond wasn’t as strong. To him, she was a woman dying. Nothing more, nothing less. He wrestled with what to do next. Despite what she’d done, did she deserve to die alone?
It didn’t matter. She had to. He had others to
attend to.
Bear eased around the hedges and scanned the area in front of the house. Deserted. He hunched over, a move that did little to conceal him, and ran to the front door. There, he stopped, pressed against the wall, closed his eyes and listened. The wind whipped around the house, coating him with fresh salt air. The sweat on his forehead cooled. His lips dried. He licked them, tasted the salt. He heard a soft cry from beyond the front door. Mia? Had to be.
He reached over with his left hand, found the door handle. It turned without resistance. With a slight motion, he pushed the door open. Then he spun quickly, 9mm leading the way. A quick scan of the room revealed it was empty. Bear eased forward, following the sounds of the little girl crying. The room he stood in opened up to a dining room and kitchen. On the right side, in the middle, loomed a dark hallway. From the hall was where the crying originated.
Bear holstered the pistol and took hold of the MP7 on his chest. He switched the safety off, adjusted from single shot to three-round bursts. No need to be deadly accurate. Just had to hit it somewhere in the ballpark.
He angled toward the wall, pressed back against it, stopped right before the hallway opening. From there, he had a view of the entire kitchen. Aside from the closed pantry, he verified the room was as empty as the first one.
Another cry floated by.
He took a deep breath and spun around, leading with the sub-machine gun. The empty hall beckoned him to proceed forward. And he did. Bear pressed his left shoulder against the wall and walked toward the end of the hall, toe to heel. He kept his eyes focused ahead, where there were two doors, one on either side. At any moment he expected one of them to open up.
The sound of Mia’s cries grew louder. Indecipherable whispering followed. He stopped, hunched over, narrowed his eyes. He took a step. A floorboard popped. The crying stopped. So did the whispering. He heard footsteps move toward the door softly and slowly.
His instincts told him to fire. Logic overruled. At the very least, Mia was in that room. Her mother and the other woman might be too. Who else? He had no idea. The only way to find out? Open the door.
And so he did.
The doorknob turned to the right with no resistance. He pushed the door forward, took a step back. The barrel of the MP7 moved with his eyes. Mia and her mother huddled in the far corner of the room. The other woman stood holding a lamp like a baseball bat.
“Who are you?” she said.
“That’s Bear, Hannah,” Erin said.
“Are you alone in here?” Bear said.
They both nodded. Mia still hadn’t looked up at him. She kept her face buried in her mother’s chest.
“Who the hell are you?”
The voice didn’t come from inside the room.
Bear stepped back and turned and saw a tall blond man at the other end of the hallway. “Son of a bitch,” he said as he hurried to wrap his hands around the weapon strapped to his chest.
Apparently, Bear’s presence had startled the man at the other end of the hall, too. He had to reach around his back for his pistol. Neither man had the advantage. Three quick bursts erupted from Bear’s weapon. The man produced his firearm, which appeared to be an HK45 Tactical pistol, and fired at the same time.
Searing pain spread through Bear’s abdomen and around his side and back. It centered on the right side. He didn’t look down. Looking down would make it real, and as it was, he felt he could continue moving. He blinked away the flood of tears in his eyes. The other guy’s right arm hung at his side, useless, shattered and splintered at the wrist. Bear hadn’t hit in the right ballpark it seemed. His shot had traveled into the stands. He fought the pain, aimed again, pulled the trigger. The weapon had jammed.
The guy looked from his hand to Bear. Disbelief spread across the man’s face. Bear charged toward him. He didn’t want the man coming closer to the room with the women in there. The guy bent over, wrapped his left arm behind his leg, returned upright wielding a knife with a six inch blade.
Bear tried to lift the sub-machine gun and strap over his head. Pain prevented him from doing so. He yanked hard, snapped the strap. With the MP7 is his left hand, he deflected the knife blade. He didn’t stop moving forward. The guy swung again, wide and wild. Bear whipped the gun to the left, caught the guy just above his left wrist. The bone snapped. The knife fell to the floor. Bear drove his knee upward. The pain in his side nearly became too much for him to handle. The knee connected with the man’s groin. The guy fell forward. Bear grabbed the back of the guy’s head, pulled it back. Then Bear drove his head forward and down into the bridge of the man’s nose. The skin on the guy’s forehead split in two. Bear shoved the guy backward. The man fell to the floor.
Bear moved forward until he stood over the man. He reached behind his back and retrieved the Sig P226. He wished he’d have thought of it a few seconds earlier. He wiped the blood off his hands and gripped the pistol. The pain spread through his hip and up into his chest. He aimed, took a breath.
“No, don’t,” the girl said from behind.
Bear looked over his shoulder. Mia stood in the hallway, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Please, don’t kill him.”
Bear’s vision began to darken. He saw Mia, but also Mandy. Both girls standing there, tears in their eyes, begging him to spare the man. He fell to one knee, onto his butt, then to his side. He blinked hard, saw the guy on the floor next to him. The man’s head dropped to the side and they stared at each other.
The other woman appeared a moment later. He remembered her name was Hannah. She took the Sig from his hand, stepped back and aimed it at the other guy.
“I’m from West Virginia, asshole. One move and I’ll make your face look like your right arm.”
Bear smiled, then closed his eyes.
CHAPTER 70
Jack stood on the packed sand close to where the small waves gently lapped onto shore. A dozen yards away Leon stepped out of the small boat he had just run ashore. Leon looked toward Jack and nodded. Both men remained motionless for a few seconds. On the beach, in front of the boat were several bags. Some filled with clothes, Jack presumed. Others, perhaps, with cash. He glanced out, across the sea, and saw the large boat that Leon had been ferrying the items to.
“Where’re you headed?”
“Away.”
“Why?”
Leon said nothing.
“Must be running from something.”
Leon shook his head. “I don’t run from anything or anyone. Unlike you.”
The shot was not lost on Jack. He ignored it, though. “Why’d you do this?”
“Do what?”
“Get involved with this scheme Dottie was involved in.”
Leon took a few steps forward.
Jack aimed his pistol at the man. “That’s close enough.”
“You screwed her life up, Jack.”
“How so?”
“That crap you pulled in Monte Carlo with Thornton.”
“He had it coming.”
“Not saying I disagree.”
“So how did that mess up her life?”
“She didn’t run from Thornton because of that, Jack. He kicked her out. It cost him over a million in legal fees and bribes. He blamed it on you, and in turn, her. That house, it’s not hers. It’s mine. A family home. She didn’t have any money to speak of. Her retirement was screwed. See, she thought she had it made with Thornton. Sure, she had to take her lumps now and then, but to Dottie, those lumps came with the territory no matter what she did. How else would she have risen through the intelligence ranks like she did?”
“So this whole thing was a setup then. She didn’t bring me here to kill Thornton, did she?”
Leon shook his head.
“Thornton’s death was already in the works. She brought me here to kill me.”
Leon nodded. “I was supposed to take care of you that first day. You got the drop on me, though. I didn’t want to hand you that Browning. If I didn’t, you would have ki
lled me. I could see that. I had no choice. Adapt and overcome, right, mate?” He paused, looked toward the house, then back at Jack with a pained expression. “Remember that cook in the restaurant?”
“The red bearded one? The guy we saw on TV who’d been giving us the tough guy look in the kitchen?”
“That’s the one, and that was no look, Jack. He’s my step-brother. He was going to help me take care of you. I figured you’d be a corpse in the bathroom and he was going to come in after the first shot.”
“What about the guy that took me to the warehouse?”
“One of mine.”
“Why?”
“We figured that you’d be spotted in there and Naseer would do what Naseer does. Apparently, you’re better at hiding than figuring things out.”
“Mason?”
Leon shook his head. “He’s legit. His partner not so much, though.”
“I figured that out.”
“Too late, though, right?”
Jack said nothing. Neither did Leon.
“The bombing at the hotel?” Jack said.
“Two purposes, really. To scare you and to eliminate some possible witnesses.”
“You two were behind it?”
Leon shrugged.
“What connection did Dottie have with Naseer?” Jack said.
“Coincidental, really.”
“Why have me kill the Prime Minister?”
“Two birds, one stone.”
“Meaning?”
Leon glanced out toward the sea. He inhaled deeply. He swung his head back around, glanced at the ground, then back up toward Jack. “Get rid of you and him without having to be directly involved.”
“She was involved. She was on the phone.”
“Prove it.” Leon held out his arms.
“I get that she wanted me dead. But why him? What did he do to her?”
“Son of a bitch led the inquisition that got her removed from her position.”
Jack searched his memory, but had no recollection of this.
Leon must have noticed the confused expression on Jack’s face. “A few years back there had been a cover up of something that happened. Dottie gave an order to do something that shouldn’t have been done. Parkin was a fresh face on the political scene at that time, and he had some knowledge of this action. He’d been involved. Me too. He wanted to make a name for himself, so he used his inside knowledge and took her down. She lost her job, her pension and all retirement money. After that she took up with Thornton.”