by Cindi Myers
He moved forward slowly, trying to stay in cover, following the boot prints and drag marks. He hadn’t gone far when a woman’s terrified scream shattered the woodland silence. Jack straightened and began running toward the sound.
Chapter Twelve
The screaming continued, a ragged, piercing note that made the hair on the back of Jack’s neck stand on end. He slowed as he neared the sound, every sense attuned to his surroundings, alert for danger. A flash of blue caught his attention and he turned toward it, tensing when he spotted Andrea, tied to a tree, her head thrown back, mouth open in a keening cry that echoed in the otherwise still air.
He moved to within a few dozen yards of her, using the trunk of an old-growth juniper for cover. His first instinct was to rush forward and free her from whatever was making her scream that way, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to assess the situation rationally. No one else was around her, but he sensed whoever had tied her up this way was close, probably watching. She appeared unhurt. He couldn’t see any blood or obvious injuries or even torn clothing. The screaming continued, but he realized it had a mechanical quality, like an amateur actor performing on cue. Had her captor ordered her to scream in order to draw him in?
Movement to her right caught his attention and he drew the Glock. But a man, wearing a mask and dressed in black, had already moved in beside Andrea and placed a knife to her throat. “You can come out now, Agent Prescott. I know you don’t want to see this lovely lady bleed to death right in front of you.”
Jack hesitated. The man in black brought the knife closer. Andrea cried out and a thin trickle of blood slid down her throat. Jack holstered the Glock and stepped into the clearing, his arms raised.
Four men, also masked and wearing black, moved out of the underbrush and surrounded him. One took the Glock and another bound his wrists behind his back. “Where is the backpack?” a shorter man with a nasal voice demanded.
“What backpack?”
The man slammed his fist into the side of Jack’s head. His vision blurred and he struggled to remain upright. “What did you do with the pack you found in the cabin?” the man asked.
“I hid it.”
“We’re wasting our time with him.” A different man spoke. “We should kill them both and go after the boy and the kid. They won’t get far on their own.”
“We need that pack,” the short man said.
“He had it when I spotted them earlier.” The man with the knife had moved away from Andrea and joined them. “He must have given it to the kid,” he said.
“We’ll go after the kids,” the short man said. “But we won’t kill them—yet. Tie him up with her.”
Two of the men dragged Jack toward the tree. He resisted, earning another dizzying blow to the head. “Try that again and I will slit her throat,” the first man growled, and shoved Jack hard against the same tree where Andrea was tied.
They bound Jack to the tree, his back to Andrea. Then four of them, including the man with the knife and the shorter man, left. One man stayed behind to guard the captives. He sat on a fallen log a short distance away, a rifle laid across his knees. “I’d love to have an excuse to shoot you, fed,” he said. “So don’t try anything.”
The tips of Andrea’s fingers brushed his. He curled his hands toward her, wishing he could reassure her. But the odds didn’t appear to be in their favor. They would need a miracle to get out of this. Brian hadn’t had time to reach tree line yet. Even if he had managed to call Agent Blessing right away, the team couldn’t have mobilized quickly enough to get here, and they had no way of pinpointing Jack and Andrea’s location.
“You shouldn’t have come back for me,” she whispered.
“You didn’t really think I would abandon you, did you?”
“You should have stayed with Ian.”
“Brian is with Ian. They’ll be all right.”
“Not with those four looking for them.”
Jack studied their guard. He was heavier than the other men, though most of that bulk was probably muscle. He sat upright on the log, both hands on the rifle, his expression impossible to judge behind the black mask. “I’m not giving up yet,” Jack said.
“You two stop blabbing over there,” the guard ordered.
“What’s with the ninja getup?” Jack asked.
The man grinned, revealing a crooked front tooth. “We heard you guys could identify us from surveillance videos and stuff, so the boss decided we should dress like this to maintain our anonymity.”
“In your case, it didn’t work, Gordon Phillips,” Jack said. “Or should I just call you Gordo? That’s what your prison buds called you, isn’t it?”
The comment earned him a blow to the side of the head but it was worth it to see Gordo squirm. He loomed over them, having sprung from his seat on the fallen tree. “Who told you my name?” he demanded. “I never saw you before in my life.”
“We know all about you and your pals,” Jack said. Though Gordo—thanks to his crooked tooth—was the only man Jack had recognized.
“I ought to shoot you now,” he said.
“Then your boss wouldn’t have the chance to find out what else I know,” Jack said. “I’m guessing he wouldn’t like that.”
“I’d say you died trying to escape.” Gordo hefted the rifle. “It happens.”
“Then your boss would wonder why you weren’t capable of looking after two tied-up prisoners on your own.”
“Shut up!”
“Make me.”
“Jack!” Andrea gasped.
Gordo took a step toward Jack. He raised the rifle butt-first over his head and Jack braced for the blow. But before Gordo could bring the weapon down on Jack’s head, gunshots raked the clearing, bullets shredding bark from the tree where Jack and Andrea were tied and hitting the snow at Gordo’s feet.
“What the—?” Gordo dived into the cover behind Jack and Andrea, but the bullets followed, the shots more focused on the man in black now. Gordo let out a scream and Andrea tensed.
The silence that followed rang in his ears. Jack tried to breathe normally, though his heart raced. “Gordo, are you okay?” he called.
Gordo swore. “I’m shot!”
“Come out with your hands up!” The voice that gave the order was strangely deep, with an echoing quality.
“Come in and get me!” Gordo shouted, and aimed a burst of gunfire toward the voice.
More gunfire peppered the bushes where Gordo sheltered. Not a rifle, Jack decided, but a pistol, of a large enough caliber to be effective at close range.
Gordo returned the fire but shot wildly, unable to see his enemy.
Jack couldn’t see anything, either. The shots continued, first from one side of the clearing, then the other. The shooter was close but obviously moving around. Another cry rose from Gordo. “All right,” he cried. “Don’t kill me.”
“Throw out your weapon!” the voice ordered.
The rifle landed in the dirt a few feet from Jack.
“Your handgun, too,” the voice ordered.
Muttering under his breath, Gordo tossed out not one but two handguns.
“Come out with your hands up.”
“I’m wounded. I can’t walk!”
“Then crawl.”
The bushes swayed and bent as Gordo crawled from his cover. He had a black bandanna tied around his left thigh.
“Lay down with your face pressed to the ground,” the voice ordered.
Gordo complied, his cheek nestled in the snow, arms stretched in front of him.
“Don’t move or I’ll kill you!” The voice was higher now—excited.
Gordo didn’t move.
Silence followed, but Jack thought he detected movement through the bushes. After a tense moment, Brian, the pisto
l in one hand, a cone of paper in the other, stepped from the trees nearest Andrea. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and put a finger to his lips as he approached and knelt beside them. “I need something to cut you loose,” he whispered.
“There’s a knife in my pocket,” Jack said.
Brian fished out the knife and freed Jack, then Andrea. “Where’s Ian?” she asked. “Is Ian all right?”
“He’s good,” Brian said. “He’s hiding somewhere safe.”
Jack retrieved Gordo’s discarded rifle and stood over the man. “Andrea, I need you to tie him up for me,” he said.
Gordo had turned his head to watch them, but he hadn’t moved. “You can’t leave me here to bleed to death,” he said.
Jack regarded the gunshot wounds to the man’s thigh and forearm. “You’re not going to bleed to death from those,” he said. “Or would you rather I finished you off now?”
Gordo turned his head farther and glared at Brian. “You were the one shooting at me? You’re just a kid.”
Brian grinned. “Too bad I’m not a better shot, huh?” He gestured with the gun toward Gordo.
Jack gently took the gun from the young man. “Careful,” he said, and slid the pistol into his pocket. Then he retrieved the two handguns Gordo had discarded.
Andrea finished knotting the rope around Gordo’s ankles and stood. “I want to see Ian,” she said.
“Take this.” Jack handed her one of the guns. The other kidnappers probably had her handgun, along with his Glock. “Let’s get out of here.”
“This way,” Brian said. He loped ahead of them, then stopped a few hundred yards down the river. He hooked two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “All clear!” he shouted.
“Look, Mama! I climbed a tree!”
Jack spotted Ian halfway up a leaning spruce. The boy scampered down the tree, climbing down the limbs as if he were climbing down a ladder. He ran to them and Andrea scooped him up in her arms. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said.
“Brian and I came back to save you and Jack,” Ian said.
Jack turned to Brian. “I told you to take Ian and keep yourselves safe,” he said.
“I know what you told me, but I couldn’t let you face those guys alone.” Brian straightened his shoulders, as if bracing for a fight. “I knew there would be more than one of them. They always travel in packs. When they kidnapped me, there were four of them. Four of them against one teenager. I had to at least follow and make sure you were all right.”
“And I’m glad you did.” Jack clapped the young man on the back. “How many shots did you fire?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “All of them. I used up all the ammunition, but I figured that guy back there didn’t have to know that. It was pure luck that I hit him. I wasn’t aiming or anything. I just wanted to scare him off.”
Jack decided not to point out that the young man’s wild shooting had come close to injuring Jack and Andrea. What mattered most was that they were safe, at least for now.
“Jack.” Andrea moved closer to him, Ian on her hip. “Hadn’t we better get out of here? The others might come back.”
Jack nodded. “When you were headed back here, did you see the other four men who were here?” he asked Brian.
“We saw them. But they didn’t see us. We climbed the tree.” He pointed to the spruce that had sheltered Ian. “They never even thought to look up. That’s why I thought it would be a safe place to leave Ian while I tried to help you two.”
“Good job. But Andrea’s right. We need to get moving. If we don’t reach help or a good hiding place before nightfall, we could be in real trouble.”
Chapter Thirteen
The climb became much steeper, so that they had to grab on to branches to pull themselves up the outcroppings of rock. The sun had melted the snow in places, but in others the ground was still hidden beneath foot-deep drifts. Soon they were all wet to the knees, breathing hard from the exertion. Eventually, the cover of trees gave way to snow-pocked rock, yellow mine waste spilling down the slope in places. Andrea tried to focus on carefully placing her feet and hands as she climbed, shaken by how close she had come to death. She hadn’t wanted to scream—hadn’t wanted to lure Jack into her captors’ trap, but when the one with the knife had threatened to cut her throat, she had given in, ashamed of her cowardice yet wanting desperately to live.
She would need more time to sort out her tangled emotions about everything that had happened. For now, they weren’t out of danger yet. She tried not to think of how exposed they were on this bare slope, though tension pulled at her shoulders as she braced for gunfire that never came.
“Not much farther now,” Brian said. “You can see the entrance from here.” He stopped and pointed up. Following his line of sight, she spotted the patch of black against the pale rock.
“How do we get up there?” she asked.
“There’s a path. I can just make it out.” Jack looked back at them. He had reclaimed the pack and his phone from Brian and taken Ian as well, the boy clinging to his neck. Andrea marveled at how well her son had weathered the ordeal so far—thanks in no small part to Jack’s calm courage, which strengthened them all.
“Just a little farther.” Brian turned to pull her up beside him. In the space of a few hours, the young man had transformed from trembling waif to almost-brash teen, brandishing the pistol and vaulting up the mountain slope. Andrea suspected Jack’s example—and Jack’s trust in him—had restored the young man’s weakened confidence. She didn’t think this quality to inspire others was something the FBI had trained him to do. It was part of Jack’s nature, like his crooked smile and the gentle way he touched her.
“Here we are.” Above her, Jack stopped on a narrow rock ledge. He reached down to pull her up alongside him. Instinctively, she moved to one side, into the shadows cast by the mountain that rose behind them.
“Here you go, buddy.” Jack set Ian on the rock shelf.
The boy stood on his own, gaping at the scenery. “Wow. We’re really high up,” he said.
“Come over here, honey.” Andrea beckoned him to her side. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay.” He looked up at her. “Can we go home now?”
“Soon, honey.” She hoped it was very soon. She needed to feel safe again and to feel in control once more.
“Is it safe?” Jack asked Brian as he joined them on the ledge.
“Like I said, I didn’t go very far in,” Brian said. “I didn’t have a light and it was really dark. But I spent the night just inside the entrance. It’s not that comfortable, but I was out of the snow and wind and hidden.”
“Let’s see what we’ve got.” Jack pulled a flashlight from a side pocket of the pack and switched it on. The rest of them followed him inside.
The entrance to the mine wasn’t as creepy as Andrea had feared. The space, approximately eight feet deep and six feet wide, was cut into the rock and was dry and appeared bug-and varmint-free. The only smell was that of dust and the dried leaves that littered the floor. A tunnel, shored up with square timbers, led farther into the mountain.
“You can use this to sit on.” Jack handed Andrea the blanket and took off the pack. “I’m going to explore a little farther into the mine.”
“I’ll go with you,” Brian said.
Andrea spread the blanket and settled down onto it. “I want to go with Jack,” Ian said, and started after the men.
“You have to stay here with me,” Andrea said.
“But I want to go with Jack.” Ian stuck out his lower lip and his face clouded, the precursor to a storm.
“Do you want Mommy to have to stay here by myself?” She gently took his arm. “Jack and Brian will be right back. Stay here and I’ll tell you a story.”
“I don’t want a st
ory.” But he let her pull him down into her lap.
“This is a good story,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, as much to reassure herself as to keep him warm. “It’s about a brave little boy. He was an explorer.”
“What did he explore?”
She looked around her, searching for inspiration. “He climbed mountains,” she said. “And he explored caves.”
“Did he find treasure?”
“Yes, he found treasure. Gold and jewels.”
“And a spaceship,” Ian said. “He found a spaceship and he flew it to the moon.”
She smiled. “What did the spaceship look like?” she asked.
“Andrea! Come here!”
Jack’s voice was urgent enough that she was on her feet immediately. “What is it?” she called. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ve got to see what we’ve found,” he said. “Evidence that could blow this case wide-open.”
* * *
JACK STARED AT the contents of the metal trunk he’d discovered in an alcove just off the mine tunnel. Neat putty-colored bricks, each individually wrapped in plastic, almost filled the container. The trunk’s stainless outer surface, covered with only a light coating of dust, stood out from the old tools and piles of rock around it. Though a padlock dangled from the trunk’s hasp, it had been undone and Jack had no trouble lifting the top to reveal this treasure trove.
“What is it?” Brian asked. “Drugs or something?”
Jack lifted out one of the bricks and hefted it in his hand. “I’m pretty sure it’s plastic explosives,” he said. “Probably C-4.”
Brian took a step back. “It’s not going to blow up, is it?”
Jack tossed the brick back into the trunk. “No danger of that. It needs a detonator to explode.” He moved aside another brick to reveal a small cardboard box filled with a row of white plastic tubes attached to insulated wire cords.