It would be very difficult, Doug knew, to heed Nadia’s admonition. After everything De Roché had done, it was tempting as hell to find the bastard and make him pay.
“I have an idea,” Jennings said, bringing Doug back to the present. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. It may be the safest option for you two. At least temporarily.”
“You’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking, aren’t you, Rick?”
“I think I am.” As Doug drove, Jennings explained his idea, and when they stopped for the night at an unremarkable motel just east of Pittsburg, both Doug and Annie were pretty much bought into the plan. They didn’t have a choice, actually. It was the only option that made sense. The question was, could they pull it off?
“By the way, we have new names,” Doug said as they sat at idle in front of the motel. “There should be paperwork in the glove box.”
Jennings opened the box and handed an envelope back to Doug.
There were two driver’s licenses inside, one with his face and one with Annie’s. They were stock images, taken sometime over the past couple of years. Doug had no idea where Nadia had gotten them. He supposed it didn’t matter. He handed one to Annie, along with a credit card and a passport in her new name. She gazed at them in disbelief. “My name is Carrie Summers. Carrie? I hate that name.”
“And mine is Joseph,” Doug said with a grin. “But you can call me Joe.”
“Joe and Carrie Summers,” Jennings said. “The perfect American names for the perfect American couple.”
Annie frowned.
“You’d better check us in,” Jennings said to Doug. “Spencer will be looking for my name to come up. Hopefully your new names won’t be on the radar for a while.”
Doug did just that. No questions asked. He rented two adjoining rooms using his new identity and paid in cash.
Jennings volunteered to go out and find food. He got pizza and used a payphone to call Rosemary back in Maine.
“Where the hell are you?” she asked.
“Nice to hear from you too, dear. I’m on my way home. I’ll be there in a day or so.”
“You’re a wanted man, you know that? Spencer’s boys are upstairs right now talking to the chief. Do you know where Doug and Annie are?”
“Sorry, I don’t.”
“Listen, Rick, I don’t have to tell you what it means if you’re harboring them.”
“I said I’m not, so don’t worry. Besides, I can handle Spencer.”
“I think he’s close, Rick. I think he’s real close. You should be very careful.”
Chapter 71
Exhausted after eating, they all turned in early. Annie and Doug showered together and made love in the warm spray. Afterward he carried her to the bed where they made love a second time, deep and soulful. They fell asleep in the silent darkness holding each other. When they slept Doug dreamed of the messiah leading flocks of disheveled pilgrims into shafts of sapphire blue light that seemed like columns of swirling fire erupting up from the center of the earth. He remembered what the collector had said about the light and he also remembered the blue column of light that had grown up out of Sandy Stream the day he’d nearly drowned all those years ago, and knew that it had not been a hallucination. He could feel it embracing him, engulfing him, changing him, and he remembered coming awake on a gravel bar as Rick Jennings administered CPR.
Doug woke in a cold sweat, his breath rasping from his lungs. There was something more to the incident that he’d never been able to put together in his mind. The truth was getting closer, though. He could feel it. Gently he placed his hand on Annie’s swollen abdomen and felt the child waiting in the darkness.
Chapter 72
Jennings woke to the sound of far off sirens. He rapped on Doug and Annie’s door, but they’d heard them too and were already up and dressed. “Could be nothing,” Jennings said, “but I’m not willing to take that chance.” They were out the door and heading for the car. Rain had begun in earnest during the night and now it was falling in wind-driven sheets. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. “How good are you with that MAC-10?” Jennings asked Doug.
“I’ve never fired one but I think I could hold my own.”
“You drive,” Jennings said, scooping up the MAC-10 and the extra clips. “I’ll take the shotgun seat. Annie you get in back and stay down.”
“But I know how to shoot.”
“I know you do,” Doug said. “But we can’t take any chances with you and the baby.” Annie frowned but got in the back, and as they were headed down the road away from the motel two local police cars were pulling in. Doug drove normally, hoping they hadn’t been spotted.
They’d gone perhaps five miles when suddenly, from out of nowhere, a large sedan came at them from behind and swerved dangerously to pass.
“Something’s wrong,” Jennings said. “Driver’s acting crazy. Don’t let them get around you.”
The rain was sheeting nearly vertically as thunder crashed loudly overhead. Doug stomped on the accelerator, swerving to prevent the car from passing, but the pavement was slick and the rear end fishtailed, narrowly missing the passing vehicle. Doug looked in his rear view and saw the flashing lights of the two police cars way back but gaining. “We’ve got more company,” he said.
“Shit!” Jennings said.
“Hang on,” Doug shouted. Because of his maneuver the vehicle beside them had fallen back slightly, but now it was again accelerating, gaining fast. Shots were fired and they heard bullets pinging on metal. Jennings grabbed the MAC-10 but was reluctant to return fire. Annie was on the floor but he could see that she was okay. “Stay down and cover your ears,” he said. “I may have to fire over your head. The sedan was close. Doug swerved to the left around a corner, just as flashing lights sped into view behind the car that was chasing them, sirens wailing.
Slow down, there’s a corner up ahead,” Jennings shouted.
“No way,” Doug said. He could see that the sedan was closing the gap. More shots were fired and rounds slammed into the Range Rover. He slid into the turn, steering furiously, crashing over the curb, straightening, and vanishing from the chase car. Wind driven rain was coming at them in sheets and there wasn’t much visibility. Even so, Doug increased his speed. Another intersection was coming up. There were four corners with a stop sign. The right hand turn said Freedom but he was driving too fast to make the turn. Doug braked at the last minute, veered straight through the intersection and the stop sign. Good thing it was early and traffic was light. Midway through the intersection he hit a puddle and his tires lost their grip on the pavement. The Range Rover slid before jolting up on the curb, scraping a small tree that snapped off the right side-view mirror and lurched back onto the street.
“How the hell did they find us?” Doug said.
“Beats me,” Jennings said. “Unless Annie has more than one homing device planted in her clothes.”
“I looked thoroughly,” Annie said from her position on the floor in the back seat. “That was the only one. Besides, why would my father order his people to fire on us? He wants me alive. He wants my baby.”
“Good question,” Jennings said.
“The Collector said there were factions that wanted our child dead,” Doug said. “Who knows who those assholes are?”
The chase vehicle had once again caught up to them and it was pulling out to get along side.
“Roll the left rear window down,” Jennings told Doug. Doug hit the button and the window descended. Through sheets of rain, Jennings saw that both of the side windows on the chase vehicle were down and gun barrels were visible. He caught a glimpse of a face he recognized and his blood ran cold. “You were wrong,” he said to Annie. “That’s Theo, your father’s security guy.”
“He’s gone rogue then. My father wants the baby alive.”
There was no time for further speculation. Jennings knew they would open fire any minute. Without further thought he aimed and fired a burst of ammo into the
side of the chase car. The car swerved wildly but came back at them.
“We need to lose those guys,” Jennings said. “Annie, stay down and cover your ears.” Jennings aimed the MAC-10 low and fired two long bursts. When the bullets struck the right front tire of the sedan, which was moving at nearly eighty miles an hour, the driver could not hold it on the road. The vehicle careened wildly toward the ditch and when it hit the soft shoulder it catapulted, end over end into the trees until the gas tank ruptured and exploded, sending a massive fireball skyward.
In the rear view mirror Doug saw that one of the cop cars had stopped at the scene of the accident, but the other one kept coming.
“We have to lose that cop car,” Jennings said. “But no way am I firing at police officers.”
“How do you know they’re cops?” Doug said.
“I don’t, but I’m still not shooting at them. We have to find another way to lose them.”
“Shit!” Doug said. “There’s a roadblock up ahead.”
Jennings turned around for a look and sure enough, two large, black SUVs were parked nose to nose across both lanes of the road. Up beyond them several more vehicles created a secondary barrier. Standing in the driving rain in front of the barrier were several men dressed in foul weather gear holding automatic weapons. Jennings remembered Rosemary’s words of warning from the phone call the night before: “I think Spenser’s close, Rick. I think he’s real close. You should be very careful.”
There was suddenly no doubt in Jennings’s mind that this was Spencer. But how the hell had he found out where they were? No time to think about that. He needed to get them out of this situation fast. The roadblock was closing fast but still about a hundred yards away. “Hit the brakes,” he told Doug.
“What about that cop car behind us?”
“Let me worry about that. I need some fancy driving here.”
“Hold on!” Doug shouted. He hit the brakes and simultaneously spun the wheel hard to the left. The Range Rover slid sideways on the slick pavement, slewing around until it was facing in the opposite direction before coming to a lurching halt. In the rear view mirror Doug saw the armed men bolting to get into their cars. The police car that had been chasing them was closing fast at high speed.
“Shit!” Jennings said. He pointed the MAC-10 out the window and fired a burst toward the cop car aiming low. As both front tires exploded the front end of the car sagged as though an invisible force had come down upon it. The car, unable to hold a straight course, veered sharply to the left and catapulted off the road into the trees. Not waiting around to see what would happen next, Doug slammed his foot down on the accelerator.
In a few seconds they were past the wrecked police car and speeding back the way they’d come. The guys in the second police car were busy with the burning sedan as they sped past. At the first intersection Jennings told Doug to turn left. He remembered a road sign that pointed them toward a town he couldn’t remember the name of. If they were lucky maybe they could get lost in city traffic.
Doug was going too fast when he reached the intersection. He tapped the brakes. They seemed to grip so he tapped them again, then pressed them harder to make the turn. He lost control on the rain-slick pavement, drifting sickeningly. The car began to spin, but Doug, remembering his driver training turned the wheel in the direction of the spin. The vehicle righted itself and Doug hit the gas, speeding toward the direction of Freedom, Pennsylvania. He was hoping it was an omen of things to come. He wondered if this nightmare would ever end. “You okay, Annie?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” Annie said sarcastically. She was up off the floor, brushing herself off and fastening her seatbelt.
There was a sharp curve to the right just ahead. By the time they reached it, visibility behind them was so bad it was difficult to see if they were still being chased. Once they’d rounded the curve Doug stepped down on the gas and drove as fast as he dared on the slick road. He kept glancing in his rear view, but saw no pursuers, and now it seemed the rain was diminishing to heavy mist, reminding him of the day their house was destroyed. It seemed so long ago and so much had happened since, that it now felt surreal, as though it had happened in a dream.
Once they reached the outskirts of Freedom, Doug slowed down and drove at a normal rate of speed.
“First thing we have to do is lose this vehicle,” Jennings said. “It’s possible there’s some sort of tracking device on it.”
Doug did not want to believe this, but what did he actually know about Lucy Ferguson, AKA Nadia Ziegler and her motives? Only what she’d told him, he decided. Much as he wanted to believe her, everything she’d said could have been a lie. “What do you suggest?”
“Over there, behind that department store, it says public parking. Pull in there.”
On the way into the lot they deposited the MAC-10, minus its ammo, into a dumpster, but not before wiping it down for prints. They parked the vehicle, wiped it down as best they could, pocketed their respective side arms and walked out to the main street. The rain had now mostly ceased. Freedom was a relatively busy place and they decided not to walk as a group but spread out some, yet remain within earshot of each other.
Freedom boasted several small manufacturing plants. It was now ten in the morning and they chose a car from a plant parking lot knowing it was unlikely that the owner would discover the vehicle missing until he or she came off shift late in the afternoon.
It took Jennings only a moment to hot wire the vehicle while Doug and Annie waited in the shadows and stood watch.
In a matter of moments they were beyond the Freedom city limits heading east. They stayed to back roads and at three that afternoon they switched vehicles in Stowe, Vermont. From there they made their way across New Hampshire and into Maine, crossing the border at Bridgton after dark where they abandoned the second stolen vehicle.
Doug called a cab on his cell phone. The cab driver picked them up in front of the Hannaford grocery store and was instructed to take them out to the Long Lake marina where they got out and made their way down the marina gangplank until Jennings stopped at a small aluminum boat with an outboard motor. Activity was sparse after dark so when the coast was clear they got in the boat. Jennings started the engine and headed out across the lake. When they reached the opposite shore, landing the boat on a deserted stretch of beach, they got out and Jennings pushed the boat off, setting it adrift. From there they walked the half mile along the shore to Jennings’s private lake home where they spent the night and hatched their plan.
Chapter 73
The woman drove the compact Ford Fiesta south along the four lane highway. The sky was clear and the moon was bright enough for her to occasionally catch a glimpse of it reflecting off the Gulf of Mexico in the distance. It was after midnight and traffic was light on the boulevard. Even so, she was careful to watch her speed and obey all traffic laws. Presently she came to a turnoff where she braked and pulled the car into a side road, driving without headlights for approximately half a mile through avocado and citrus groves.
Where the groves met the deep darkness of pine forest, she pulled the vehicle into a small turnout and maneuvered it around so that it was pointing out. She exited the vehicle and moved to the trunk where she secured her night vision goggles and weapon. She donned the goggles and then hoisted the M39 EMR. The M39 Enhanced Marksman Rifle was a modernized version of the M14 designed specifically for the United States Marine Corp and first used in 2008. The M39 used match-grade 7.62x51mm NATO cartridges. Like all sniper rifles in the battlefield the M39 was effective at very long ranges. The woman knew the weapon well. She’d trained extensively with it. She checked her bearings and took off at a trot into the brush.
Her footfalls were nothing but a whisper through the underbrush and she slowed as her GPS indicated that she was getting close to her mark. There were at least a dozen sentries guarding the target, she knew, plus silent Dobermans. The stone fence with its razor wire crown was visible against the moonlit sky from a
hundred yards back. She paused to flip the night vision goggles out of her field of vision. She knew she didn’t need to be within range of the motion detectors or the scent of the dogs to accomplish what she came here to do.
She easily found the tree she was looking for and with several deft overhand strokes she climbed the thirty-five feet needed to get the view she wanted. There was a limb in which to comfortably sit, and another on which to rest the rifle.
Nadia knew that she was breaking every rule, every oath she’d ever taken being here. She also knew that it would be her one and only chance to do what she felt deeply needed to be done. She placed the rifle in position and squinted through the scope until she had the view she was looking for. Through the east wing window she had a view of the interior of De Roché’s study and his favorite chair. The distance was perhaps six hundred yards. She was prepared to wait all night for him to come into the study, but providence must have been on her side, for there he was sitting in his chair looking toward the television screen. Nadia did a quick check of wind speed and direction. The night was dead calm. She took a deep breath and placed the crosshairs directly over the old man’s heart. Carefully she squeezed the trigger. The rifle cracked and bucked against her shoulder. She kept her eye on the target and saw an explosion of blood that could not be faked. The target did not move.
Security was diligent, however. They’d heard the shot and had seen the muzzle flash. And as expected, they immediately returned fire. But Nadia had already slung the rifle and was climbing down the branches of the tree. As she hit the ground running she heard vehicles rev and an alarm go off.
She knew it was going to be close, but as she sprinted through the woods, lights from approaching vehicles bounced toward her faster than she’d anticipated. She had maybe thirty seconds now, but it should be enough. She swung the driver’s door of the Fiesta open, tossed the rifle and goggles onto the passenger seat and got in behind the wheel. A few seconds later a vehicle came to a stop fifty yards from Nadia’s vehicle, headlights shining in her eyes. Two men with assault rifles got out.
Soul Thief (Blue Light Series) Page 44