Light spilled through an open window as much as the noise of the game. David lowered his NVGs so he wouldn’t get blinded. He pressed himself against the side of the door next to the knob.
Jonathan and Frisco bunched behind him.
“I hate baseball.” Randleman said.
David sneered. He’d recognize that whine anywhere, any day.
“Shut up.” The low, gravelly voice of a smoker.
Behind him, Jonathan stiffened.
Must have been Stone.
Then came the schnick of a lighter. Smoke wafted through the screens.
Oh, gag. Cigar smoke. David fought a cough. He risked a peek.
Stone slouched on a recliner. A bluish haze hung in the air. His brow knitted as he waved the offending cigar toward Randleman, who cowered on a sofa across from his master. “You’ll stay here, and you’ll watch this with me. It’s the least you could do, you little prick. Especially after you let four people who could have been my end into my house. My house! And now where is it? At the bottom of a valley. That’s where! All because of you, you moron.”
Randleman clutched a pillow in front of him as if that could ward off Stone’s fury. “I’m sorry, all right? Geez, what do you want me to do?”
“How about grow a pair?” A stream of cuss words floated toward him along with more smoke. “Now look what’s happened. I’m in hiding. My supplier on the other end is screaming bloody murder because he hasn’t gotten paid yet. And when Shamal Khan gets pissed...”
He hurled his lighter toward his underling.
Randleman flinched when it hit him in the head. “Ow! Did you have to do that? I’m sorry. Can I say it anymore?”
David rolled his eyes. He wanted to yak at Randleman’s whiny tone.
“Shut up.” Judging from the snarl in his voice, Stone’s temper had reached the boiling point. “If you weren’t my nephew, I’d have killed you the moment you dragged your sorry carcass through the gate. You get one more free night. Then you and me? We get to figure out how to rectify this mess and get my drugs. You swear they died?”
“Cream and sugar on top.”
“You’d better hope so. Else, nephew or not, it’s your life. Got it?”
“Y-yeah.”
“I’m glad we have an understanding.” Stone cranked the volume as if to signal the end of the conversation.
Frisco nodded to David, who stepped to his side.
The DIA agent counted down from five with his fingers. His fist clenched.
David raised his leg and kicked the cross piece of the screened door. The flimsy wood gave way instantly.
Off balance, he staggered through the shattered screen and onto the hardwood of the family room. So much for the flash-bangs they’d planned to use.
Frisco piled in behind him. He shouted, “DIA! You’re under arrest!”
Stone brought up a pistol.
Jonathan pulled Frisco down and knocked David to his knees.
He hit the deck, and bullets tore into the wall above them. He scrambled upright and fired at Stone and Randleman. Stone must have worked out constantly because he dove to the floor as if by instinct.
Stuffing flew as bullets pierced the chair where he’d sat.
The older man rolled to his feet and hooked an arm around Randleman’s neck. He put a gun to his head. “You shoot me, I kill him, got it?”
Randleman began squeaking like a mouse caught in a cat’s claws.
David rolled his eyes at Jonathan.
Stone backed them toward a hallway.
“Take the shot,” David hissed.
Frisco’s finger slid to the trigger guard. “I can’t. We want them alive, right?”
In a smooth motion, Stone flung a pocket door shut.
David darted forward. He bolted into the high-ceilinged foyer. The front door hung open. Footsteps pounded down the front staircase.
“This way!” He tore down the wood.
Another bullet zinged by his ear.
Stone and Randleman, plus two guards, fled along the walkway toward the boathouse. David took a knee and raised his MP5. He dropped a guard with a carefully aimed shot.
Light blossomed from the muzzle of the remaining guard’s gun.
David dove into the shadows and fired again.
Misses all the way around.
The door to the boathouse slammed.
He rushed toward it with his comrades hot on his heels.
Just as he reached the metal structure, the lock clicked.
“Not this time, Randleman,” he muttered. He stood back and sent two bullets into the latch. “You led us into a trap.” Another bullet. “Tried to hit on Abigail...” Another one. “You’re mine.”
He tried the knob. It turned, but the door didn’t budge.
He slammed his shoulder into the metal. Once. Twice. Finally, the frame gave way, and he stumbled inside just as a boat engine roared.
One of the cigarette boats blasted into the night.
David rushed toward the other one. “I’m going after them!”
Jonathan ripped the mooring lines off the cleat and jumped into the cockpit with Frisco behind him. “We’re with you.”
David found the key in the ignition and twisted it. The engine nearly deafened him as it roared to life. He jammed the throttle forward and dumped Frisco and Jonathan off their feet. He staggered as they shot from the boathouse.
Jonathan grasped the seat and hauled himself upright. “What are you trying to do? Kill us?”
“Trying to get Stone and Randleman.” David played with the steering. Sensitive, like the slightest touch could send them careening out of control. The bow tipped upward as he opened the throttle even more. With one hand, he lifted the NVGs over his eyes.
There!
His quarry’s wake showed up bright green in the greenish black night. They were gaining on them. How to stop them? Bullets to the engine. “Get ready!”
Jonathan braced himself against the gunwale and raised his MP5. “Ready.”
A dark shadow rested in the guard’s arms. Uh-oh. “Gun!”
Points of light sparked.
David ducked. “Everyone okay?”
“Good,” Frisco replied as he joined Jonathan. He took aim, then fired. A miss. “We’re too far out. I need an M4 carbine.”
“I’ll get closer.” David focused on drawing nearer to their quarry.
Stone jibed toward port as if to cut them off.
Instinctively, David pulled back on the throttle.
Stone looped out to sea and roared toward him.
Crap. They were now the hunted.
David jammed the throttle forward. “Hold on!”
Stone gained on them. Suddenly, they were neck to neck. Jonathan shot the guard, who tumbled overboard. Stone pointed his pistol at them.
David ducked. Bullets pierced the windshield and stitched a pattern down the side of the boat.
Something exploded in the back.
David frowned. No steering. Or throttle. “Guys, we got nothing.”
“Engine’s on fire,” Frisco reported.
David checked their course. They paralleled the shore. He tried to turn starboard. Just enough of a turn to get them going closer to shore for less of a swim in.
“We gotta jump!” Frisco shouted. “Now!”
“Jonathan?”
“Here.”
David let go of the wheel since it was useless. For what it was worth, he pulled back on the throttle again. Nothing but trouble there. “Over the gunwale on my count! Three! Two! One!”
He hurled himself overboard and slammed into the water.
Everything went black.
Saturday, April 22, 2017, 2145 hours EDT, Outer Banks, NC
Jonathan had always heard that hitting the water at high speed was like running into concrete. Now, he knew from experience. He skidded across the water like he’d gone wakeboarding. He came to a stop and groaned.
In the distance, their boat merrily blazed and belched
black smoke into the night air.
He began treading water and looked around. “David? Frisco?”
David splashed nearby. “Whoa! What happened?”
“We jumped. Remember?” Jonathan swiveled. “Frisco. Where is he?”
“My three o’clock.” In one stroke, David reached their comrade.
Frisco moaned and thrashed. He spluttered up some water he’d inhaled.
David took hold of him. “Easy there. You’re okay.”
“That... hurt.” Frisco stilled. “I’m good. Let go of me.”
David released him.
Jonathan looked around him. “Where’s Bryson?”
Frisco hacked one last time. “He went back to port, remember? Besides, we’re way far away from where we started.”
Jonathan grimaced. No one anywhere close, though most likely, someone onshore had seen the explosion. No roar of a cigarette boat indicated Stone would finish them off. “Stone’s gone. We need to get out of here.” A shiver rippled through him as his adrenaline began draining away. Cold penetrated. “We’ve got to get to shore. Otherwise, we’re going to go hypothermic really quickly.”
“How far away are we?”
Jonathan faced the glittering lights. “A mile. Maybe two. The only way we’ll find out is to start swimming. Let’s go. Stay close. Keep talking and checking on each other. I don’t want to lose either of you.”
“Roger that.” David began stroking toward shore.
Swimming warmed Jonathan somewhat, at least for the first several minutes. The lights grew closer but at a slower pace than he’d anticipated. David and Frisco kept close. He began shivering. Lord, you got me through last year, through losing Christine and the beatings so bad I barely survived. Get me through this.
Then came a tug toward shore, as if a gentle hand grasped him. He rose up along the face of a wave.
David hooted.
They were close. So close!
Then a large one broke right on top of Jonathan. He tumbled head over heels as the water forced him downward. His upraised hands hit the sandy bottom hard. He pushed off. Just as his lungs felt like they would burst, his head broke the surface. He gasped in a hard, refreshing breath of air. Another wave came, but this time, he surfed it in.
His fingers came into contact with wet sand. With his last bit of strength, he crawled forward. Water rushed over him as the ocean tried to reclaim him.
Strong hands grasped his arms and hauled him farther onto shore. David plopped down beside him. “You okay?”
For a moment, Jonathan rested face down on the sand. “Fair to middlin’.” He pushed upright and searched for Frisco.
The DIA agent dragged himself over and collapsed. “I’m freezing.”
“Reminds me of that winter training we did in Alaska shortly after Nine-Eleven.” David ribbed his friend. “Remember? My butt was numb for days.”
“You’re a funny man, David Shepherd.” Jonathan pushed to his feet and staggered a little as he regained his balance. “We’re near a town. Let’s figure out what to do.”
“Does anyone have their phone?” Frisco asked. “I lost mine in the water.”
Jonathan patted down his pockets. Same thing. The force of the impact must have ripped open the Velcro. “Not me. I’ve heard of shoes getting knocked off during a hard collision, but pockets getting ripped open? Bizarre.”
“I’ve got mine.” David held his up, then scowled. “It’s cracked and looks like an aquarium inside.”
“We need to get out of here. C’mon.” Jonathan led the way toward a pier. Though it was a weekend night, it was still spring, and high season had yet to begin at the beach, meaning no visitors were out and about at such a late hour. “Let’s see where we are, then go from there.”
They trudged toward a public access path, passed between two dark houses, and arrived at a residential street. Not a light on anywhere.
Jonathan rubbed his arms to generate warmth as they headed through the neighborhood to the main highway. Four lanes. South appeared to take them toward town. No one stirred, not even a cop to wonder why three bedraggled men wandered along the sidewalk. Finally, they stood outside the closed town hall. Jonathan grimaced. “Nags Head. A good-sized town but way south of where we were. Okay. We need wheels.”
“There.” David turned and pointed toward a green and white sign glowing in the night. “Looks like a rental car company. You know they have a ride for us. We’ll make sure we return it.”
Frisco frowned. “But they’re closed.”
“So?” David approached the front door. “They have a lock box outside. My money says someone dropped a car off tonight. Let’s see what they have.” Before anyone else could say a word, he raised his fist and slammed it onto the metal box. It came off its mooring, and as it hit the concrete, the small padlock broke open.
Only one fob slid out.
“I guess people don’t leave the beach on the weekend.” Jonathan scooped it up. He pressed the unlock button.
Nearby, the lights to a Chevy Spark compact flashed.
David stared. “No. No way am I going to ride in that.”
Jonathan folded his arms across his chest. “You want to walk back to Elizabeth City?”
His friend growled something unintelligible.
Jonathan cracked a smile. “It’s only sixty miles or so. I think you can handle it.”
“So long as Frisco gets the back.”
The smaller man shrugged. “I’m good.”
“Then let’s get going.” Jonathan slid into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. They had a full tank of gas. Frisco wormed his way into the back, and the car rocked as he settled across the seat. It sagged to one side as David took the passenger seat. Even with it hitched all the way back, his knees still came up nearly to his elbows. “This is a clown car!”
“Hey, can we have some heat?” Frisco asked. “I’m still freezing.”
“Wow. What complainers.” Jonathan offered a real smile this time. They puttered onto the highway, and he turned on the heat. The air from the vents fogged the windows as they dried out. Then came the stink of wet male.
Jonathan winced, but he focused on keeping the small car on the road. His mind sorted through what had almost become his last mission. “Frisco, if we were so close to an arrest, why didn’t Nabeelah step forward and ask for a full SWAT team rather than use us?”
Frisco opened his mouth as if to reply, then shut it.
“Hey, we nearly gave our lives for this,” David added. “And my family’s lives are on the line as well. We can kick you out of this clown car if you don’t ’fess up. I think you owe us the truth.”
Frisco squirmed. “Jonathan, Nabeelah told us the—”
“I think there’s more,” Jonathan said. He swiped at the fog on the windshield.
Frisco’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “You’re right. I should have told you everything yesterday morning at breakfast, and I’m sorry. You see, there’s no way we could call for backup.”
Jonathan focused on him. “But even if she’s down to a skeleton crew, couldn’t—”
“It’s off the books.”
Jonathan slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded on the highway.
David grunted as his seatbelt caught him. “Hey!”
Jonathan wrenched around in his seat. “I’m not going a foot farther until you tell us the unvarnished truth, Frisco.”
The DIA agent winced. “It wasn’t that she was down to a skeleton crew. They pulled the plug on the mission.”
David turned as well. “And she continued? What is she? A fool?”
“Maybe.” Frisco’s gaze darted around. “They told her to cease and desist, but she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let it rest. All she cares about is destroying Shamal Khan.”
Jonathan couldn’t believe his ears. “And she had enough fools to go along with her. Including you.”
Frisco’s eyes flashed. “I told you I love her. I guess that blinded me. And the others? That w
oman can induce loyalty like no one else. We’ve been operating with two Delta guys, two Night Stalkers, a medic, and a drone operator.”
Jonathan still didn’t understand. “What about the Delta guys who are guarding the airfield?”
“When she’s needed outside resources, she’s managed to sweet talk those who are peripherally associated with logistics. But to ask for a SWAT team would have revealed she’s still operating.”
“Enter us. And Abigail.” David muttered something and rammed his fist into the dashboard. It left a dent.
Jonathan faced forward and put his hands on the wheel. He knew the stakes and what would happen if they abandoned their mission. They had no options now. He glanced at the mirror toward where Frisco hunched. “Okay, genius. What’s our next move?”
“Getting out of this car,” David grumbled.
Jonathan sent him a look. “How about after that?”
Frisco shifted. “I can only hope Stone didn’t dump Randleman overboard. Otherwise, we’ll never find him.”
“I’m pretty sure he won’t be on the Board of Directors anymore,” Jonathan said.
“Ya think?” David muttered. His knees came nearly up to his chest. “The second I get my hands on Randleman, I’m going to...”
Jonathan’s gaze darkened. “You and me both.”
Frisco leaned forward, and the smell of seaweed filled Jonathan’s nostrils. “I’m imagining Stone may be close to realizing Randleman’s a turncoat, and when he does, Randleman’s going to flee like his tail’s on fire. We track him, and I imagine we’ll find Sal.”
“And if Stone knows he has a tracker in him?” Jonathan asked.
“Hopefully, he’ll assume Sal put it there. And we still won’t have Stone. This is hopeless,” David said.
Frisco shifted to a more comfortable position. “Maybe not. If Stone pursues Randleman, it could be two for the price of one.”
“Sal,” David muttered. “And Abigail’s still working her case.”
Jonathan swallowed hard. Without any communication, it would be hard to ascertain the danger she was in. He stomped on the accelerator. The car’s engine whined as sputtered forward. He ground his teeth. The sooner they got to Elizabeth City and Bryson, the better.
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