“Step away from the gun.” The man removed his gun muzzle from Rachel’s head and pointed it at Christie.
Rachel had her OTF knife in her hand, pushing out the blade next to her thigh as she had practiced a hundred times with Steel in the VR sims.
Christie took one step to the left of her gun, keeping her gaze on the man. “You’re creating more trouble for yourself than we’re worth.”
“Do you think bear parts are the only things we sell?” He motioned with his gun. “Take another step away from the gun.”
Christie held her breath, watching.
Rachel brought the knife to the side in a quick sweep and then back hard into the side of the man’s thigh.
The man shouted and fired his gun at Christie, but his arm jerked up in pain.
Diving to the ground as the man’s gun went off, Christie grabbed the SIG. Not hesitating, she sat up. The man still held Rachel and was swinging his gun to her. Rachel stabbed the man’s thigh again. The man groaned.
Christie shot him twice—in the right arm and shoulder, so he dropped the gun—and then in the head. He toppled onto the log, hanging over it, finally releasing Rachel, who dropped down, hidden behind the log.
Panicked that the man might have shot Rachel, Christie ran, keeping low. As she neared the deadfall, she saw Rachel sitting on the ground on the other side of the fallen tree, staring at her knife—still stuck in the man’s thigh.
Relieved, Christie said, “I’ve got it, Rachel.” She slipped one leg over the log, pulled the knife out of the man’s thigh, and stepped over the log with her other leg. She noted the dead man wore Kevlar beneath his camo.
Squatting, she stuck Rachel’s blade several times into the ground to clean it, and then wiped it on her jeans and handed it to Rachel.
Rachel slowly took it and sheathed it.
The girl was in shock. As skilled as Rachel was with weapons and in the forest, Christie knew the teen needed her to get her to safety. She had to. No matter what. She couldn’t let Rachel down, nor Steel. Rachel needed nurturance, but there was no time.
Quietly, Christie said, “We’re going to run together. Stay low. Stop when I do. Follow me. Can you do that?”
Rachel bit her lip and nodded.
Peeking over the deadfall, Christie heard the chickadee whistle again, louder and closer. She still couldn’t see the man. “Let’s go, Rach!”
They bolted, Christie leading Rachel, trying to keep trees they passed between themselves and the dead man. She wanted as much cover for them as she could get.
No gunshots rang out. She hoped they were safely beyond the other man’s range. Maybe. But she also felt he would come for them. The silenced guns and Kevlar suggested pros.
When they reached the field, Christie straightened and ran through the grass just outside the tree line, heading directly north. It was much easier running in the grass than through the woods, but if the man stepped out into the meadow, they would be an easy target. She figured they had a minute or two head start and could cover a lot of ground before that happened.
Slowing, she waved her hand. “Run in front of me, Rach! If anything happens, you run to Clay.”
“I will.” Rachel darted around her, and then they both ran hard.
Every few steps Christie glanced behind them, expecting to see the man, dreading it. Even if Clay was running all the way up the north trail, he wouldn’t be in time to help them here.
As they neared the top of the meadow, Christie glanced back once more; sixty yards south of them, the man was kneeling in the grass.
She threw herself onto Rachel’s back, bringing them both down into the grass as the silenced rifle fired.
Christie couldn’t help landing on Rachel hard, and immediately rolled off her. Wide-eyed, Rachel wiped dirt from her lips. Christie felt moisture on her chest and assumed her stitches had broken.
“Crawl into the woods, Rach!”
Christie crawled in frenzied movements, leading Rachel. When they were twenty feet past the first trees, she scrambled up behind a large pine. Rachel stood beside her, both of them covered with dirt and pine needles. They aimed their guns southwest.
The man wasn’t visible anywhere. That bothered Christie. He might be running in the woods toward them, but there was no sign of him. The edge of the meadow was visible, but she didn’t see him there either. The one thing she was sure of was that remaining here was suicide.
“Come on, Rach!”
They ran hard through the forest, heading north, not bothering to keep quiet, sometimes forced to run slightly west to avoid deadfalls they couldn’t jump over. If they could keep a good pace, the man still might catch them if he ran in the grass along the edge of the woods. Thus Christie continually checked the edge of the meadow for any sign of the poacher. Nothing.
When they reached the top of the meadow, the forest was thinner for a while, forcing them to run farther north until Christie felt assured they couldn’t be shot from the meadow. Then they ran due east.
Her phone vibrated several times. She ignored it. If they stopped, it would give their pursuer a better chance to catch them. And Clay might still be ten to fifteen minutes away.
Rachel ran steadily, not breathing hard, pacing herself. At home she often ran in the forest, so she could handle it. Christie was proud of her.
As soon as they crossed over the top of the meadow, they swung south, again far enough inside the trees so Christie felt safe. Rachel was right on her heels.
They stopped behind a big Douglas fir. Christie still felt wary. “Check behind us, Rachel. I’ll scan west and south.” The forest and meadow were clear.
“Nothing,” whispered Rachel.
“Same here. Let’s switch. You take west and south, and I’ll take north.” Again Christie didn’t see anything to worry about.
“It’s clear,” said Rachel.
Christie’s phone vibrated again. Several texts had come in from Clay. She called him.
Clay sounded like he was breathing hard. “Where are you, sis? Is everything okay?”
It calmed her to hear her brother’s voice. “We’re a quarter-mile down the east side of the meadow, Clay, inside the tree line.”
“I’m not far south of you, also inside the tree line. Where’s the poacher?”
Christie wondered that too. “We lost the guy or he gave up. We had to shoot his partner again. Maybe that spooked him. Or maybe he wants to get out before the police arrive.” Though she didn’t believe her own words.
“Keep working your way down, sis. We’ll go out together. I’ll text in a few minutes if I don’t see you. No more calls.”
“Will do, Clay.” She hung up, glancing at Rachel. “Clay’s close.” She felt hopeful. Another gun would give them a serious advantage over the poacher.
Rachel’s lips twisted. “Are we going to wait for Clay here?”
“Let’s keep moving until we meet him, honey. Come on.” Christie ran at an easy pace, keeping the meadow partially in view. She didn’t expect the poacher to run across it, yet it made her uneasy that they had no idea of his location. The sun was higher, and she thought of Steel. She had to let that go.
She heard noises from the south, not far ahead of them. Maybe footsteps. They stopped and knelt behind a deadfall, both of them resting their guns on the log.
Christie’s phone vibrated. Clay. Texting. “Just south of you. Heard you running.”
Christie showed the text to Rachel, who heaved a big breath.
“Watch the meadow, Rachel.” Rising, Christie looked for Clay among the trees.
Rachel clutched Christie’s arm and pointed west, out at the grass.
Christie followed Rachel’s gaze. Through the trees, and close to the west side of the meadow, the poacher was kneeling, his rifle aimed at a target southeast. The target had to be Clay.
Christie brought up her gun, and she and Rachel both fired at the man just as he got off a shot. The poacher ducked into the grass, but they kept firing.
>
Rachel emptied her gun. Christie shot five rounds. Five rounds left. She texted Clay, but he didn’t text back. Panic. Maybe he was shot and bleeding out. He must have been too close to the edge of the meadow. Why had her brother been so careless? She felt sick to her stomach.
Quickly they made their way south, through brush, around trees, over deadfalls. Christie still eyed the meadow.
In minutes she glimpsed her brother through the trees, on the ground, twenty feet in from the meadow. In a hushed voice she called, “Clay!”
He didn’t move. She choked up. They cautiously moved closer.
On his belly, Clay had his rifle aimed at the meadow, his cheek on the stock. He’d been a sharpshooter with the Army and was ambidextrous with guns. His SIG rested on the grass beside him.
Christie walked closer with Rachel, still eyeing the meadow. Clay never moved. Stopping behind a tree five feet from her brother, Christie whispered, “Clay?”
Without moving, Clay whispered, “I want to make sure he doesn’t come up for air. Run east for the trail. Text me when you reach it, then call the police with your location. I’ll follow when I get your text.”
Relieved, Christie exhaled. “Will do.”
They backed away, and then turned and ran. In ten minutes they reached the east trail. Christie texted Clay, and then called the police.
In a quarter hour Clay joined them, his forehead lined. He hugged Christie tightly, which hurt, but she didn’t mind. Then he wrapped his strong arms around Rachel. Rachel had tears in her eyes.
Clay rested a hand on each of their shoulders and took a deep breath. “Good job, both of you. Now let’s get out of here. That guy spooks me.”
IT WAS ANOTHER FOUR hours before they returned home. Christie had to get her stitches redone, and give a police report.
Tired, she sat with Clay in Harry’s room. She thought of calling Steel, but he might be in the middle of the exchange. She decided to wait until evening, and she had asked Rachel to wait too.
Mina had grabbed Rachel to make cookies. Christie thought it was a good idea. An easy, nurturing task would help put Rachel’s mind at ease. Christie planned to talk with her later. And she knew Mina would comfort the teen too.
Harry sat propped up in bed, taking a breather from the wheelchair. “So Dad knew poachers were taking game, and being the tough guy he is, he went to confront them, was shot, escaped with his life, and lost his rifle?” He pretended he was drawing a pistol. “Dad must think he’s Wyatt Earp.”
“That’s his story.” Clay rolled his eyes. “He’s lucky he’s alive.”
Christie clasped her hands. “The police identified the dead man. He had no ID and phone on him, but they found him through photo recognition. Erik Lansing. Ex-Army. Loner. They didn’t have much else on him. Left the Army, traveled around a bit, and ended up in Montana. No home address in Montana. But he had a driver’s license from Washington State and an apartment outside of Seattle. Seattle police will investigate him.”
“Bozeman police brought dogs up to track the other poacher, but so far no luck. They lost him near a stream.” Clay turned to Christie. “Can you describe him?”
“I never got a good look at the guy.” Christie shrugged. “But he knew Erik well, because they used a chickadee whistle to communicate once. They’ve worked together often.” She paused. “Erik Lansing knew my name, but I have no idea how.”
Harry glanced at her. “It has to be connected to Dima.”
Christie heaved a breath. “I agree, but how is a poacher connected to a Russian KGB officer?”
“Almighty.” Clay shook his head. “Well, it’s over.”
Christie wasn’t sure. The unknown poacher had kept after them doggedly. If Erik was his friend, would the man just let it go? “When Erik had Rachel, he made a comment to me that bear parts weren’t the only things they sold.”
Clay swore. Harry’s eyes narrowed. They all knew what that implied.
“I’m just trying to figure out how to tell Steel what happened.” Christie wasn’t looking forward to it.
“You kept Rachel safe.” Clay patted her shoulder. “That’s what matters.”
Harry rested a hand on Christie’s arm. “How is Rachel?”
Christie shrugged. “She’s strong. Tough. And she saved my life. But I still feel horrible about what happened.”
“We all do.” Harry flicked a hand. “It felt awful waiting down here while you three were on the mountain. I had to call Isabella to talk me out of chasing after Clay in my wheelchair.”
“At least someone in this family has some sense.” Christie smiled.
Harry grinned. “I’m a guy, what do you expect?”
Clay chuckled. “Hanging around Steel made me smarter. I purposefully made myself visible for a few steps along the meadow’s edge to try and draw the poacher out. That’s why he saw me and took a shot. By the time I was down and ready to shoot, you two fired your guns.”
“Huh. That was smart.” Christie gripped his hand. “I can’t tell you how happy I was that you came for us Clay. I’ll never forget being rescued by my big brother.”
“I’ll always come. You know that.” He sighed. “All’s well that ends well.”
Christie just needed one call from Steel to confirm that.
PART 5
OP: CIA PACKAGE HAND-OFF; MATTIA LEONE
CHAPTER 19
Phil Edwards sat in the front passenger seat of the lead SUV, his back tense as he waited. Two SUVs, seven heavily armed men, plus himself. They were parked on the side of the dirt road, waiting for Emilia’s call. She had texted this latitude longitude earlier, with the time they were to be here. Now Edwards was waiting for the final destination directions for the hand-off. So far so good.
The area felt deserted; they had only seen one car go by. He assumed Steel had chosen this location for that reason, among others. Outside of a few birdcalls in the swamp forest to either side of the road, it had been quiet.
They had flown into Miami Homestead General Aviation Airport, to avoid detection by Dima at the major airfields. From the airport, Edwards had texted Dima on his burner phone, asking for proof that his niece was nearby. Dima sent him a few seconds of video showing Therese standing beside a Florida county road sign with a gator sunning itself on the grass in the background.
That video had bothered Edwards deeply. His niece’s eyes showed stress and sadness. Her long brown hair, always brushed neatly, was a tangled mess on her shoulders. She wore a rumpled T-shirt and shorts.
Therese had a sweet disposition, and was innocent to the violence in the world. Not naïve, but protected from it. Edwards wanted to rescue her, hold her, and kill Dima a thousand times over.
From the airport Edwards had texted Dima a location ten miles south of his present location. He had researched Florida before he left home, and had found a perfect ambush site in a remote area near the everglades. After selecting eight of his best men, he drew them aside, not really having to feign the distress he felt, while explaining that a former KGB officer, Dima Borodin, now had his niece and was trying to blackmail him to hand over Mattia, Valentina, and the flash drive.
After showing his men the video Dima had sent him of Therese, Edwards told them to kill Dima and retrieve his niece. He would proceed to the hand-off, because Emilia would only give him the location coordinates, and he needed to make sure the hand-off wasn’t blown due to his absence.
It was a risky plan. Edwards wanted to be at the ambush, but it would make him seem heroic to proceed to the hand-off, despite his niece’s kidnapping. Also, if anything went wrong with the ambush, Edwards wanted to make sure the flash drive was in his possession if he needed it to barter for Therese.
Impatiently waiting, Edwards hadn’t heard from his ambush team yet.
Sirens sounded in the distance behind them. He didn’t like it. “What is that?”
The officer in the driver’s seat glanced at his rear-view and side-view mirrors. “Police. Two cars.”
<
br /> Edwards frowned. The sirens made him wonder if something had gone wrong. All he could think of was Therese dead or in the sex slave trade.
Two black-and-white, four-door Florida highway patrol Dodge Challengers with tinted windows stopped broadside on the dirt road, parallel with the two SUVs. A light bar flashed atop both cars. The State Trooper decals on the front bumpers, the FHP decals on the back fenders, and the blue and white Florida Highway Patrol circle decals on the front doors made them official.
Edwards felt tension crawl down his neck. Why were the police here? It made no sense. He wanted to get rid of them ASAP.
The driving officers of both police cars got out, put on their tan hats, and approached the driver’s side windows of the SUVS. An officer in the passenger side of the Dodge Challengers got out and circled the front of the SUVs to the front passenger doors.
The officer next to the driver’s side window tapped on it. Edwards nodded to his driver, who lowered it.
His hands on his hips, the officer looked serious. “We’re asking everyone to evacuate this area, sir.”
Frustrated, Edwards took out his ID and held it out. “We’re CIA, officer. Stand down and do not proceed down the road.”
The officer peered at Edwards’ ID. “Sir, there’s a major gun battle up ahead on the road. Someone called for help and more units are on the way. We’ve been ordered to block all traffic on all roads leading in.”
Edwards peered ahead. “I don’t hear gunfire.”
The officer motioned with his hand. “It’s faint, sir. Roll down your window and maybe you can hear it.”
Edwards rolled down his window too.
“It’s coming from two miles down the road, sir.” The highway patrol officer next to Edwards pointed ahead.
Edwards leaned closer to his window, still not hearing anything.
He was hit on the head the same time he heard a gunshot. Dazed, he saw the police officer beside his driver holding a silenced Glock. His driver was slumped onto the steering wheel, blood on his neck. The two police officers leaned in and shot Edwards’ officers in the back seat before they could get their guns off their laps. Edwards felt sick to his stomach. These were men he had known for years.
Steel Trap: A Jack Steel Action Mystery Thriller, Book 4 Page 12