by Dale Mayer
Chapter 10
THE PLANE LANDED as she was waking up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She stared out the window in confusion. Uhm, she didn’t know what time it was, but it surely could not have been time for a transatlantic flight like she’d expected. And neither did this small, flat, rundown airstrip look like an international airport.
Where the hell was she?
With Masters’ cage gripped tight in her hand, she turned to look at the men.
Only they were all geared up. Fear shot through her. What had happened? Why hadn’t they said something to her? Masters meowed in his cage. She dragged the cage onto her lap and curled up in the corner, trying to still the panic in her stomach.
The only good thing was she was feeling relatively normal. The headache was still there but less a pounding than a dull ache. But…she stared outside in the evening light and wondered what the hell she was supposed to do here.
And where was Dane. He should have explained what was going on long before now.
“How are you feeling?” Dane stood in front of her. His gaze deep, assessing.
“Fine,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best attempts to keep it firm. “Where are we and why?”
“We’re in Italy. Our flight was diverted as we were given new information.”
She nodded as if she understood, but in truth, no one could understand anything given the little information he’d given her. “And me? Where am I going?”
“That’s possibly a choice. In theory you’re supposed to go to a medical clinic on your own where the US Embassy will contact you.”
“What?” She blinked, trying to understand how it was she went from being a protected casualty to a don’t-need-dumped-at-the-next-stop, person.
“I see,” she managed in a calm, slightly strangled voice. “Then I guess I’d better grab my things.”
“Or…”
She stopped in her attempt to put Masters down on the seat beside her so she could stand up. And twisted to look at him. “Or?”
“Or you stay here with the pilot.”
“That’s a hell of a choice.” She eyed him. “Is it safe?”
He nodded.
“Is it a good idea?”
He nodded. “If you want to. Unless you have friends who want to deal with the embassy or a family support system in Italy, about two hundred and forty miles from Rome, then stay.”
Not likely. She studied his carefully blank face and knew what her next question had to be. “Am I allowed to stay on board?”
He shook his head. “Not likely. We’re not asking for permission. You’re here. They know that. We’ve been diverted for an excellent reason. Makes sense that they’d know you’re still here.”
“But?” There was more to this.
“It’s your choice.” He turned and joined his team at the back of the plane, leaving her stunned and confused.
Did he want her to stay? He implied as much. No, he implied she should stay. Not that he wanted her to stay. Determined to get to the bottom of this, she stood up and walked to where the men were, only they were exiting faster than she could reach them. By the time they were there, Dane was getting ready to close the door, locking her in.
“Wait,” she called out. “I thought you said I could leave.”
He gave her a crooked grin that did crazy things to her heart and said, “I lied.”
And he shut and locked the door behind him, locking her inside.
With a smile on her face.
*
DANE HOPPED ONTO the back of the truck. The others were ready, the engine revving, raring to go.
“How’d she take it?” Mason asked from the front passenger seat.
“Not sure. I didn’t hang around to see.”
But he had caught the relief on her face. He’d made the right decision. She’d been through too much already. She needed time out. A few hours in a plane with the pilot would do that.
The others grinned.
“Now let’s get this job done.” They had an address in an old warehouse just out of town. Deserted and derelict but supposedly with an operation functioning underground. A good place for a chemistry lab. No regulations to worry about. And being out of town, they could keep their activities secret. It wasn’t a production site but a research lab. That meant less staff to keep track of. And quite likely there were living quarters there as well.
The drive was just over half an hour. They were supposed to meet the informant first.
Pulling up to the gas station, they split up and disappeared around the block. Mason, less militarily dressed than the others, walked into the small cafe and took a table at the window. Dane walked in, just in his navy pants and dark t-shirt and took a table at the end of the room. He ordered coffee and waited. An older man walked in. He looked to have an odd illness. His footsteps shuffled and his hands, as he lifted them in greeting, seemed to shake.
Was it from being around chemicals or just life taking its toll on the body that had lost the strength to fight back? He shuffled to Mason’s table and sat down, greeting him as an old friend. Knowing Mason had spent years in Europe, he might be.
The two men talked casually while drinks and food were delivered. To anyone watching they appeared to be good friends visiting.
After they finished both, the old man got up and left as if he’d just had a casual visit. Nothing untoward. Yet Dane knew better.
He finished his coffee and walked over to pay for it at the till.
From where he stood, he could see the old man shuffle down the sidewalk. He walked out the restaurant just in time to see a vehicle rip around the corner. He instinctually melted against the wall.
A funny pop echoed through the air. Gunshot.
The old man staggered before collapsing to the ground, a bullet in his head.
Mason raced out of the cafe, took one look, swore and said, “We need to get the hell out of here.”
They bolted back to the vehicle. Shadow raced to the back of the vehicle and jumped in. “I managed to catch the license plate.” He mumbled the same number sequence several times over as he punched it into a database. The GPS brought the address up in seconds. Dane had a lot of appreciation for his predecessors who functioned just as effectively – without technology. Of course they were up against an enemy that had no technology at the time as well.
“We didn’t get anything worthwhile. He said there’d been nothing unusual at the place in the last few weeks. He was willing to get us to the lab but said we’d need to get the local law involved and do an official investigation. He did say that Hyack had sold this lab recently. The sale going through just last week.”
“Too fast for us to have known the ink was even dry. Possibly the company’s streamlining its operation.”
“Or they had nothing to do with it.”
“Then why shoot the old man?”
“More loose threads?”
With more questions than answers swirling around, and with Mason driving and Dane running navigation, they arrived at the address in less than two minutes. He drove past the house then at the next corner half the men ejected while he turned around and came back. There were houses on both sides. A small compact car was parked in the front.
Similar enough in size to be their drive-by shooter. The lack of a license plate just added to the suspicion. It had to have been removed after the shooting.
Mason drove past the house again and parked down the road. Dane went behind the neighbors and came up from the side. There were no sounds inside. No lights on. But the vehicle was there.
Dane slid around the house to the back door and peered in through the window.
A man lay on the floor face up, a small circle in his forehead. Dane quickly informed the others then reached for the back door and found it already open. He nudged it wider and crouched down in the dark. Not a sound from inside.
Had he done his job and come home to a reward he hadn’t expected? Still, it was very much the same style they’d encou
ntered since this job began. The company was cleaning up after themselves.
Mason arrived beside him and quickly they dove in, guns ready. A search of the premise confirmed Dane’s initial thoughts. The house was empty. The shooter long gone.
There was nothing tying them together except Marielle.
Dane stooped down by the body and a strangled gasp erupted from his lips.
He held up his hand to reveal a small heart locket with the word Marielle written across the back. He opened it. Inside was a picture of a young mother holding an infant on one side and a mother and daughter standing together on the other. The young woman was scarily familiar.
He held it out for Mason to see. “What’s the chance this is Marielle’s?”
Mason walked closer and held out his hand. “Shit.”
“I guess it’s a good thing she stayed with us.” Dane motioned to the room around them. “Although I’m not sure this guy had the locket as much as the killer left it behind as a message.”
Dane had his communicator out and called the pilot. If anything had happened to Mari…
Mason waited then asked, “What did you find?”
Only Dane was redialing. “I found nothing,” he snapped and swore as he misdialed. “I’m calling again.”
“Call from the vehicle. There’s nothing here. If the guy lived here longer than two days, I’d be surprised.”
Dane shut down the call and raced out the back door and through the neighbor’s yards. He met the others at the vehicle, everyone getting in fast, Dane taking off before the doors were shut.
Mason updated the others.
“Are we thinking someone saw us and went to the airstrip to look for Marielle? How would they know we’re here?”
“Easy. They saw us.” Shadow shrugged at the looks he got. “Small airstrip, military plane overhead. Already taken out a loose thread. Maybe it was just luck on their side.”
“Maybe someone tipped them off when we drove through town. These guys have eyes and ears in many places.”
“And maybe they are tracking our cellphones or our transmissions. Who the hell knows?”
“We might need to consider that Marielle is being tracked too.”
“Not likely.” But Dane knew stranger things had happened. Although he knew it was wrong, he had to keep an open mind in regards to Marielle’s involvement. “Then again, her cab was targeted. Maybe she is being tracked.”
The trip to the plane was completed in record time. He pulled up to the side of the strip and got out. The plane was in darkness and silence. It should have been anyway.
But, the shattered window gave it a completely new look.
Chapter 11
THE PILOT WALKED toward her. She’d been patient up until now but worried the longer the men stayed away. It was reassuring to not be alone though.
She smiled up at him. “I guess there’s no way to know when they’ll come back.”
“They’ll let us know when they are a few minutes out.” He patted her shoulder. “Sleep if you can. They could be minutes or they might be hours.”
“Right.” She leaned her head back but was all slept out. To pass the time, she walked her way mentally through the chemicals she so loved. She’d had a huge chart of them she’d used as a coloring book when growing up. Obviously she’d known early what she wanted to do.
Too bad she wasn’t at home doing it. She stared down at her phone. Could she call her mother? See how she was doing? Would that put them in danger or did no one give a damn? She leaned toward the latter as really, she was no one. She studied the direction the pilot went, wondering if she should ask him. But she didn’t want to disturb him. Besides, she might not get reception anyway.
She opened her phone and found three texts. One from her mother’s caregiver asking a question about meals. She quickly answered that one, relieved when the message was sent. She had some reception at least.
The second text was a friend at work asking about her holiday. There wasn’t much to answer, so she figured she’d leave that one for later.
The third text was from the Michaels.
She froze. Considering he was dead, he couldn’t be sending her messages. She’d love to believe in ghosts but until she actually had proof of such things, it wasn’t going to happen. Someone who had access to his email account had to be sending this. And that couldn’t be good. She clicked on it.
And found an image of a dead man. A second image was of her locket.
She reached up for the necklace she always wore, particularly since her mother’s diagnosis. It had been a gift when Marielle was twelve. Now she treasured it.
And apparently had lost it without even knowing. How did that work? Someone had to have taken it off her when she was unconscious, either at the accident or afterwards. No, she wouldn’t believe a SEAL would do such things. Not possible.
So when had she seen it last?
And why send her an image like that? She wanted her necklace back but was she going to end up dead like the man in the picture? She scrolled the text and the simple message underneath.
“We’re coming for you.”
She swallowed hard.
An odd ping rang out, followed by the sound of shattered glass.
From the cockpit.
Oh shit. She closed her eyes. Please let that not have been a gunshot. And not the plane’s windshield blown out. Please. She slowly got up and snuck over to the window and looked out.
Nothing but blackness for as far as she could see.
Damn. She returned to her chair, was almost sitting down, when the door burst open and two men raced inside. They grabbed her before she could take a couple steps. She screamed and fought back. Her cell phone dropped to the ground. One of the men laughed and snagged it up and pocketed it. “Good, we need that too.”
A hood was thrown over her head, and she was lifted and carried toward the exit.
She kicked and screamed. But they were stronger, bigger and there were two of them.
Hanging over the shoulder of one man, she felt the descent as they went down the stairs from the plane. Reacting blindly, she threw herself to the side, causing him to stumble. He lost his grip and she hit the ground hard, knocking the breath out of her.
“God damn it,” a male voice roared.
“Can you handle her?” came the mocking second voice. “Or do you need help with such a small woman?”
“I don’t need any help,” her captor snarled. “She’s just a fucking pain in the ass. I’m going to knock her out in a second.” He picked her up and tried to shift her weight into a different position. That’s when she threw herself back, slamming into his head.
She couldn’t hold back her groan of pain as she fell to the ground, and for the second time knocked the breath out of herself. The second man laughed his fool head off.
“This isn’t fucking funny.”
“Sure it is. She’s nothing but a slip of a thing, and she’s got the best of you. Twice.”
Marielle was still trying to get her breath back when she heard a single gunshot fire. Followed by a loud thud. Oh shit.
“Did you hear that?” snarled the man who had been carrying her. “The next bullet is yours. No one fucking laughs at me.”
This time he didn’t bother trying to pick her up. He grabbed her by the foot across the runway.
She bounced along still half tied, trying to figure out how to get away. Her best chance would be when he loaded her in the vehicle, but after that she was in deep trouble.
And if she pulled away and ran now, she’d get a bullet in the back. She didn’t know who her captor worked for, but she doubted he gave a shit whether he delivered her alive or dead. He’d rather shoot her for escaping than face his bosses as a failure. Shit. Think, Mari, think. What would someone like Dane do? She had no weapons. No martial arts skills. Only her brains. They’d gotten her this far, but there was no way they’d help her in a gun fight.
In the distance she could hear another v
ehicle. God, please let it be Dane. Would he know she was in trouble? Would he know the pilot was dead? If he’d tried to call, he’d know something was wrong.
Her body was dragged over a rock, her head bouncing on the ground. She cried out, the sharp pain making it past her sealed lips.
“Good. Like that, did you? Lots more where it came from unless you behave yourself.”
*
DANE SPED DOWN the empty road to the airstrip. His heart pounded and his jaw had locked a long time ago. Instinct said he’d made a mistake. A big one. Marielle was in trouble.
His foot jammed on the accelerator pedal, but the big rig wasn’t going to go any faster.
He let the truck drift around the corner coming into line on the other side. They were one minute out. If he could cut that in half, he would.
The airstrip was ahead. And so was another vehicle.
“Shit.”
His heart dropped at Mason’s exclamation, his gaze going to the dead man on the ground close to the plane. The pilot? A fight was playing out at the other vehicle. Someone was being stuffed inside the back.
And he knew who that was.
His hand pounded on the horn even as he skidded to a stop in front of the other rig. The men were out and running before the wheels had stopped rolling. He followed, rounding the vehicle, ready for a fight.
And came to a stop.
Marielle was now standing, a black covering over her head and the asshole holding a gun to her temple.
Dane studied him. He was a stranger. Thick as a tree trunk with heavy facial features and hair. He was also a dead man, he just didn’t know it.
“Back off or I kill her,” the stranger snapped.
A muffled sound came from Marielle. Then she reached out and kicked her attacker.
The killer called out to her, “In case you’re too stupid to understand, I’m holding a gun to your head.”
But she wouldn’t let up.
Dane had to admire her stubbornness even as he wished she’d cooperate – just once. It would be easier on her.
The killer slammed the gun down hard on Marielle’s head.
“No,” Dane whispered, frozen on the spot as Marielle wavered slightly, then sagged to her knees. The gunman let go, and she fell to the ground and didn’t move again. Not the damn head again.