by Brian Drake
“You were doing fine.”
Dane pulled the dead driver out of the truck and regarded the bloody mess spread across the cabin. He let out a breath.
“Bet you wish you’d let the driver get out first,” Nina said beside him.
“Nobody’s perfect.”
Nina brought up the automatic rifle as three new figures converged. Stone shouted, “It’s us!” and Nina lowered the weapon.
McConn, Stone and Rachael stopped to catch their breaths and survey the damage.
McConn said to Nina, “Rachael found us after they grabbed you.”
“Thanks.”
“Least I could do,” Rachael said.
“You have a vehicle not full of blood and guts?” Dane said.
Stone gestured over his shoulder. “Back there. It’s--look out!”
A shot cracked. Rachael screamed. Dane and Nina whirled on O’Malley, who’d woken up and drawn a pistol. Dane and Nina opened fire and O’Malley’s riddled body jerked as the lead slugs ripped him apart.
Dane lowered his gun and ran to Rachael, who was on the ground with Stone beside her. Her features were slack; eyes closed; blood seeping out of her chest and soaking into the dirt. Stone shook his head.
“Great,” Dane hissed. He took a deep breath and backed a few steps away, letting the AIM dangle in his right hand. “Just great.” He looked out at the horizon and filled his lungs again. He gazed into the horizon for a few moments. Turning back to his group, he found them looking at him, waiting.
“Who feels like burning down a mansion?”
“Try and stop us,” McConn said.
“Let’s sort weapons and ammo and get back there.”
“What about Rachael?” Nina said.
“What about the bomb?” McConn said.
“The bomb may still be there if they didn’t have a spare truck,” Dane said.
“They don’t,” Stone said. “That’s the truck we stole.”
“Fine. We take Rachael with us and leave her there for when the cops arrive to clean up the mess.”
“I suppose,” Nina said, “it’s the best we can do.”
Stone drove the truck back toward Black’s estate with the lights off and stopped half a mile away. Everybody piled out and lined up flat on the ground.
Nobody had a coat and the night chill bit through their clothes. The ground was cold, too, the grass damp with the first hints of dew. Dane figured it was well after two a.m.
McConn examined the grounds through night-vision binoculars. Lights still burned inside the warehouse.
“I can’t see much,” McConn reported. “Still plenty of guys but I don’t see any guns. Wait. There’s our man Teke and the foreman. There’s a gunner with a rifle following Teke like a puppy. Looks like they changed the tire on the panel van.”
“Be a little conspicuous with all those bullet holes,” Dane said.
“They don’t need to go far, I think.”
Dane looked at his team. He and Nina had the pistols taken from O’Malley and Dummy while Stone and McConn toted the AIM-75 automatic rifles.
“You two take the warehouse,” Dane said. “Light ‘em up. Stop that van. Nina and me will deal with Mr. Black. We’ll rendezvous six miles down the road.”
Nina said, “Black is probably wide awake and wondering where O’Malley is.”
“No, we still have some time.”
“How do you know?”
“Because O’Malley hadn’t dug any graves.”
33
Dane told McConn and Stone to wait fifteen minutes before starting their attack.
He and Nina broke off and ran in a wide circle, avoiding the warehouse and approaching the estate from the rear of the guest quarters. The windows facing them were dark. They dropped flat a few yards away and watched for signs of any troopers. None. Everybody must have been at the warehouse.
Dane rose and ran bent at the waist to the building, Nina on his heels with gun in hand. They followed the wall to a corner, heading for the side entrance of Black’s mansion into the kitchen.
Dane tested the knob. It wasn’t locked. They slipped into the darkened kitchen and dropped onto the tiled floor.
“Fire alarm?” Nina said.
“It worked in Zurich.”
They split up and felt around for the fire alarm, bumping into fixtures and knocking over items as their hands groped in the darkness. Nina found the alarm near the interior doors that led into the rest of the house. Dane joined her. She yanked the switch. The alarm blared, a loud screech. Spikes of pain punched through Dane’s ears. A recorded voice came over a loud speaker advising guests to remain calm and proceed to their assigned evacuation point.
Dane and Nina pushed through the doorway into the main hall. Illuminated strips on the floor led from the front door, up the staircase and beyond.
Automatic weapons fire began crackling from somewhere outside, McConn and Stone joining the act.
Dane and Nina rushed up the stairs, following the lighted strips. “Rachael told me where Black’s office was,” Nina said.
The ghosts of battles past whispered in Dane’s ear as he followed Nina. Time was quickly running out.
Stone spun the truck in a circle, kicking up a large cloud of dust, before surging ahead once again. McConn, standing in the bed of the truck, triggered bursts from the AIM, sending the warehouse crew to cover. A few gunners returned fire, their muzzles winking back, but none of the bullets found a home in either McConn’s flesh or the body of the truck.
Stone made another pass, McConn strafing the building again, peppering Teke and his gunner as they ran for the van. Teke and the other man hit the dirt, hard. The gunner fired back. Stone spun around again, McConn lurching, falling hard on the truck bed. As he scrambled up, the panel van lurched to life and sped away, leaving its own cloud of dust behind. The gunman leaned out the passenger window and fired at the truck. Bullets slammed into the side, narrowly missing one of the back tires. McConn braced on the AIM on the roof and let the weapon hammer against his shoulder, but he only kicked up more dirt where the van had been.
“Go!”
Stone steered the truck after the van.
McConn rested the AIM on the roof and fired single rounds, the van zigzagging. Return fire whistled over his head. When the AIM clicked empty, he tossed the rifle aside and leaned in through the cabin’s back window.
“Get as close as you can!”
“You’re not gonna jump on it, are you?”
“Got a better idea? Give me your rifle!”
Stone passed back the other AIM-75 and a spare magazine. McConn stuffed the magazine in his back pocket.
Stone tried to accelerate but the bumpy terrain forced him to slow down. The paved road lay ahead. The van’s lead wouldn’t last long. That vehicle was much heavier than the little pick-up. McConn held his fire but kept the van in sight.
The van jolted onto the road and McConn loosed a burst as Stone gained the road, the truck jolting too but not as bad. Tires screeched on the asphalt and soon both vehicles were screaming down the road at full throttle.
The wind whipped at McConn’s face. He dropped down behind the cabin as Stone started closing the gap between the truck and van.
One of the back doors of the van flew open and the gunman, laying prone, triggered a salvo that stitched through the windscreen, tearing into the empty passenger seat. McConn popped up long enough to fire back, the wind kicking the hot brass into his face. Stone swerved into the opposing lane, the gunman unable to compensate his aim. His rounds sparked on the asphalt and whined off into the night. McConn had no such handicap. Flame flashed from the AIM and stitched through the gunman.
McConn swapped magazines and stuck his head into the cabin. “Can you get closer?”
“Think so!”
McConn braced as Stone floored the pedal. The gasp closed some more. He saw Teke giving his side view mirror furtive glances, but there was nothing he could do about the pick-up. His single element
of defense was leaking blood all over the floor of the van.
The truck inched closer. McConn rested the AIM on the roof and aimed at Teke. His first burst missed entirely. The second punched through the side of the van and didn’t appear to hit Teke. Then Teke stuck a pistol out the window and fired blind, one of the shots coming uncomfortably close as it whined off the edge of the truck’s roof. McConn fired again. The side view mirror exploded. Another burst missed Teke but punched through the windshield. Then the AIM clicked empty.
McConn tossed the weapon and leaned into the cabin.
“I’m out of quarters! Get close to the back of the van and I’ll jump!”
“Are you nuts?”
“It’s the only way!”
Stone let out a string of curses and swung back behind the van, quickly closing the distance. McConn climbed onto the roof. The force of the wind slammed him harder now, almost sweeping him off. He stayed flat. One of the van doors remained closed, and the stainless-steel ladder on the back of the closed door made a nice target. If he could grab the ladder and not fall off, he’d have a chance to swing directly inside the van, grab the dead gunner’s weapon and use what ammunition remained on the back of Teke’s head.
The front of the truck wavered within three feet of the van.
“This is it!” Stone said.
34
McConn skidded onto the hood, put his feet under him and leapt across. He hung in midair for a moment before the rungs were before him and he grabbed tight, crashing into the back, momentarily flailing as he lost one grip. He grasped the rungs and set for the transition inside where the crate waited, strapped to the floor of the van.
Teke swerved the van across lanes, then swerved back, McConn’s feet slipping off the smooth bumper. He let out a yell as his body dangled, shoes brushing the asphalt. He lifted his legs and tried to regain footing on the bumper, but Teke kept swerving. The force of the movement pulled at McConn from all directions. One hand slipped. Stone moved the truck out of the way. McConn’s other hand slipped. He hit the ground hard and tumbled furiously end-over-end.
The alarm continued blaring but the insulation in Black’s office muted it a little.
Dane stood against the desk while Nina fussed with the computer, clicking on files but finding everything password protected. She let out a quiet curse each time, but finally gave up and looked at Dane.
“You sure he’ll come here?”
Dane smiled. “The shooting will make him think it’s a raid.” He checked the captured pistol, a CZ-75 9mm, to make sure the safety was off. He needed another .45 and fast. He didn’t like unfamiliar equipment, even if the CZ had a fine reputation.
Footsteps in the hallway. Hurried footsteps accompanied by the thump of a cane. The door swung open and Black, his breathing haggard, leaning heavily on his cane, entered, making for the exposed wall safe. He froze when Dane leveled the muzzle of the automatic with his gut.
“Surprise, Donovan,” Dane said. “Why don’t you shut that door.”
Black ignored the order, his weight still on the cane. He stuck out his chin defiantly.
“It’s too late to stop anything, Dane!”
“You might be surprised.”
Dane lifted the CZ pistol and fired once. A neat red hole appeared between Black’s eyes, the hard-nosed slug tearing through the other side to splatter part of the door and wall behind Black. Suddenly the cane couldn’t support the man any longer, and he toppled headfirst onto the floor.
Dane jammed the hot pistol into the waistband of his pants. “Let’s take the computer,” he said, moving toward Nina, “and find a way out of here.”
In the confusion of the evacuating guests, who filled the area outside the mansion like nervous chickens, Dane and Nina slipped away in the BMW they had arrived in. Neither had a cell or any way to contact McConn and Stone and hoped they’d made it to the rendezvous point unscathed. He dropped his eyes to the odometer. Four miles left.
“Steve, stop!”
Dane stomped the brakes, the headlights of the BMW shining on a man lying on his side in the road. The man wore black. Dane and Nina leapt from the car and ran to McConn, who groaned as they rolled him over.
“Oh, man, I’m hurt,” McConn said. His clothes were torn, the exposed skin slashed and bleeding. Dane ran his hands along McConn’s extremities.
“Nothing broken.”
“My ass is broken.”
“You’ll live. Come on.”
Dane and Nina hoisted McConn to his feet and loaded him into the back seat of the BMW. They hopped back in and Dane drove off.
McConn, resting heavily against the back seat, relayed as much of the action as he could before he passed out.
Presently the headlights flashed on the pick-up truck, waiting beside the road exactly six miles from the battleground behind them. Stone jumped out and climbed into the car.
He told the rest of the story.
“After McConn fell I kept following, but Teke got one good shot at my front tire. After that he left me behind.”
Dane slammed a palm against the steering wheel.
Nothing left to do now, Dane decided, except to regroup with Lukavina and see if Black’s computer held anything useful.
Derya Teke kept driving.
Nothing had gone as planned, but at least he’d escaped with the bomb. Before leaving, he and Black had discussed how to get the bomb to Seattle as originally intended and Black suggested Teke link up with his smuggling team and let them handle the transport as previously arranged. By the time the Americans tracked down the team, they’d be long gone. The Americans wouldn’t know where the bomb had gone until it detonated in Seattle.
Teke worried about his friend and hoped they polished off the American spies without trouble, but should they escape and return for Black, Teke didn’t like his friend’s chances of survival.
He’d learn the outcome soon enough.
It was a long flight back to the United States.
Dane and Nina had left their luggage behind, so they had to make do with the dirty and smelly outfits they’d worn the previous night. They all cleaned up as best as possible in the jet’s washroom but it didn’t help much. Dane telephoned ahead to Lukavina and reported they were en route and needed a few things, like weapons, and they couldn’t wait for Stone’s contacts to deliver this time. They needed to move fast. Lukavina directed them to a private airfield in Virginia used by the CIA and he’d have the requested items there and they could discuss the latest in the case further.
When the jet touched down, the sun blazed bright in clear blue sky. Lush greenery surrounded the airstrip, located in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Only the radar station at the end of the field, which stood tall above the tree line, indicated anything other than nature sat in those woods.
The jet taxied to a hanger where Lukavina and his second-in-command, Debra Sloane, waited, a light wind ruffling Debra Sloane’s skirt. Dane opened the side door and extended the steps and let Nina exit first. She greeted Lukavina with a hug. Dane and his friend shook hands and he introduced McConn and Stone. Stone held Black’s CPU.
“Let’s get inside,” Lukavina said. They followed him into the hanger and to a small corner room that had just enough space for a table. “Bathroom’s around the corner. It has a shower. Take your time.”
Dane waited with Lukavina while the others changed clothes and cleaned up in turn. The room obviously had never seen much use and signs of neglect were everywhere. The carpet had frayed corners and stains, the plain white walls looked forlorn with yellowing in some spots. A Mr. The coffee machine on a corner filing cabinet appeared older than Dane and Lukavina put together; the doors of the cabinet misaligned and crooked.
Lukavina made tea for Dane and poured himself coffee from the Mr. Coffee. He made a face when he tasted the brew.
“Nobody ever comes out here,” he said.
“I don’t have much to report, Len.”
“Tell me what happened at Black’s.
”
Dane gave the update, ending with, “We’re no closer to Graypoole than when we started.”
“Maybe that CPU will have something.”
“Maybe.”
“We can talk to Interpol as well.”
“She was surprised we mentioned Graypoole’s name,” Dane said. “They weren’t looking for him.”
Lukavina stared into his coffee a moment, brought it to his lips, but didn’t sip. He set the mug down. “Our best bet is to figure out where that bomb could be going.”
“We’d be making guesses.”
“But educated ones. Hang on.” Lukavina called Debra Sloane, who wheeled in a cart with a laptop and other computer equipment. The CPU rode on the bottom shelf of the cart. She placed the items on the table. Lukavina hefted the CPU. Sloane connected cables to the CPU and booted the laptop.
Dane took his turn in the shower and returned in fresh clothes, feeling much better than when he’d landed. It wasn’t his usual uniform, but beggars and choosers and all that.
Everybody sat around the table with Lukavina and Debra Sloane at the head, the glow of the computer screen shining on their faces.
“Black has some good stuff we’ll forward to Interpol,” Lukavina reported, “but nothing on Graypoole.”
Dane exchanged a frown with Nina and took the chair beside her.
“What about the other thing?” Dane said.
“We did some brainstorming,” Lukavina said. “We made a list of major events around the country Graypoole might target.”
“You think he’s going for mass casualties?”
“Mass casualties,” Dane said, “and something related to economics.”
Lukavina pushed the laptop Dane’s way. “Have a look.”
The list showed a wide variety of public events scheduled around the country in the next few weeks. Sporting events. Individual community events. Festivals. Parades. Dane was surprised they could compile such an extensive list so quickly. Nothing jumped out at him as a potential target. The whole exercise seemed silly to him as well. They still had Kader’s notes, but digging through those for another lead, especially since such digging would require checking out old information to see what might still be valid, would eat time they didn’t have. There was a bomb on the loose. They had to find it. Before more innocents suffered.