Devil's Brigade (Trackdown Book 3)

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Devil's Brigade (Trackdown Book 3) Page 25

by Michael A. Black


  “He said it was high and wide, too,” McNamara continued. “Big enough and tall enough for them to drive a Jeep in it.”

  “A Jeep?” Wolf forced a laugh. “And the army built it? How’d they manage to accomplish that?”

  “He said it was with the old man’s blessing. The base commander was as crooked as a dog’s hind leg and was cut in on a piece of the action. They used it for sneaking the hookers and booze in and the black-market supplies out. At that time Gus was in supply.”

  It sure sounded big enough, but that had been a long time ago. If it hadn’t been maintained, trying to sneak in and locate Chad amongst some ongoing chaos and an edgy militia group might be problematic, even for a former Green Beret and a disgraced Airborne Ranger. Wolf also wondered what the air quality might be like in a tunnel that old even if it was still operational. And the prospects of getting into a firefight in a confined space weren’t too pretty either. He wondered the extent of the federal presence there and if Franker had notified anybody about his and Mac’s possible presence. Wolf had felt almost bad about ignoring the FBI man’s instructions to stay put at the Ranch while he went to confer with his supervisor and bring a kidnap team to monitor the phone. But he’d deal with that later, once Chad was safe.

  As much as he hated the thought of it, they had to wait until Cummins called back.

  Back to being a counterpuncher, he thought.

  It was getting dark now and he thought he caught a glimpse of headlights behind him but they vanished. He’d tried to check their trail periodically as they’d driven and hadn’t noticed anybody following. But that didn’t mean there was nobody there.

  You always have to expect the unexpected, he told himself.

  He felt the persistent encroachment of fatigue as he checked the rearview mirror again and saw only darkness.

  Southbound Interstate 10

  Southern Arizona

  Soraces had let Gunther take the lead again on the tail and fell back. Although it still wasn’t completely clear just who Wolf was going to meet, Soraces had now convinced himself it was Cummins. All the facts pointed to that conclusion. But he reminded himself that one should never assume.

  It all comes to he who waits, he thought.

  He recalled the many times he’d been in one of these situations and the rush never got old. His main attribute, he’d decided long ago, was patience. Letting the plan play out and not making a move too soon. It was why he excelled at chess.

  No wrong moves, he thought. And always thinking a move or two ahead of the game.

  His cell rang again and he answered it.

  “Looks like they’re getting off the expressway,” Gunther said.

  He was from Chicago and always said “expressway” rather than “freeway.”

  “They see you?” Soraces asked.

  “Don’t think so. I been riding without my lights for a while.”

  No lights … Well, it was fairly light out with a full moon. And Gunther had brought two sets of night vision goggles in his equipment bag and was using one of them. Soraces had the second one. Gunther was nothing if not resourceful.

  “Keep going past the exit,” Soraces said. “Then double back. I’ll pick them up now.”

  He pressed the accelerator to the floor, wondering when it would be prudent to make a move.

  Patience, he remembered.

  From what Gunther had observed back at the ranch, Wolf and McNamara were both heavily armed or at least that was the assumption. Pretty soon, he’d have the answers to that and his other questions.

  Until then, he thought, ride it out.

  It all comes to he who waits. He shut off his own headlights, kept the pedal to the metal, and flipped the visor down for his own night vision goggles.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fort Lemand

  Southern Arizona

  After making his way over to the billets at as fast a run as he could manage, Cummins saw Smith standing in the hallway outside his room. The man looked up at him and smiled. There was no sign of the two armed guards. Had they gone on the perimeter?

  “What’s up?” Smith asked. “The colonel wants us back now?”

  Cummins nodded, still trying to catch his breath.

  “He said to bring Cherrie and the kid, too,” he managed to say.

  “He did?”

  Cummins nodded and held up his open palm.

  “There’s more,” he said, a bit uncertain on how to word things. “The FBI’s in front and it looks like they’ve got the base surrounded.”

  “Shit,” Smith said. “How the hell they track us down so quick?”

  “I don’t know but right now the colonel wants us back there.”

  Smith’s eyes narrowed to a squint. “For what?”

  “Keller’s going to get some bags for the money. He wants us to move the funds from the safe and put it all in the bunker.”

  “Does he indeed?” Smith said, grinning.

  “There’s more,” Cummins said. “I don’t think this is good. I think they might be planning to kill us once we’ve helped them.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Cummins shook his head. “Don’t know. Just a feeling.”

  “You know,” Smith said. “I would put it past old Lou to have some kind of escape plan in place. He always was joking about it. Maybe they seen this coming and have a car stashed in that old town someplace, same as us. You’re probably right. The only thing they’re planning on leaving in the bunker is our dead bodies.”

  Cummins felt another rush of fear and grabbed his stomach. The pressure was too great and he turned and spewed a gusher of bitter-tasting stomach bile onto the floor. He wiped his mouth and turned back to Smith, who was grinning even wider now.

  “Pee-U,” Smith said. “Glad you done that before we got into the tunnel.”

  “Sorry.” Cummins tried unsuccessfully to swallow the residual stomach secretions in his mouth.

  “What are we going to do about Keller and Best,” he asked.

  “Why you know what they say,” Smith said. “Do onto others, only do it first.”

  He raised the left side of his loose-fitting BDU blouse and Cummins saw the handle of a blue steel semi-auto stuck in Smith’s belt.

  “Charlie’s got one, too,” Smith said. “We’ll take care of them two jokers.”

  A shoot out in an underground bunker, Cummins thought. Can things get any worse?

  Back Road to Leesville

  Southern Arizona

  Soraces slowed to a stop and waited. In his rearview mirror, he saw some movement and he turned in his seat. The green tinctured image of Gunther’s car appeared in the darkness. The ambient lighting from the full moon was almost sufficient enough that he didn’t need the night vision equipment. He turned back and waited, watching the disappearing twin glow of the red taillights of the Escalade in the distance. Gunther came up and got in the passenger side.

  “They still up there?” Gunther asked.

  “Straight ahead,” Soraces said, flipping up his visor. “See those taillights?”

  Gunther studied the area in front of them. “Yeah. Where the hell they going to?”

  “I think I might have an idea,” Soraces said. “The Agency used to use old abandoned military forts for POW training exercises, remember?”

  “Wish I could forget,” Gunther said.

  “There was an old base around here somewhere. Right in this area.”

  “You think they might be going there?”

  “Where else could they be going?” Soraces said. “There’s absolutely nothing else out here except an old ghost town.”

  “Might be a good place for a meet.”

  “And a killing.” Soraces flipped down the visor again and said, “Leave your car here. Nobody around to bother it and we’ll kind of gambol about in the desert air for a while and see where our friends are going.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Gunther flipped his visor down as well. “Let’s go get us a wolf.”<
br />
  Wolf was trying to check the rearview mirror again for any signs of movement when Kasey leaned forward and occupied the space between the seats. She’d done her best to clean herself up but the black streaks of mascara down her cheeks gave her face an almost macabre look.

  “How are we going to handle this?” she asked.

  “We ain’t,” McNamara said. “Me and Steve are.”

  “Like hell,” she shot back. “Chad’s my son.”

  “And he’s my grandson.”

  This was going nowhere. Before Kasey could retort, Wolf interceded.

  “Listen,” he said in a forceful tone. “Both of you, dammit. We can’t afford to be arguing and fighting among ourselves. Not with Chad’s life at stake.”

  “Stay out of this,” McNamara said.

  “Yeah,” Kasey added. “You’d better keep your fucking mouth shut, asshole.”

  Wolf felt like saying, why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Kasey?

  But he let a few seconds of silence settle and then said, “We can’t afford this emotional bickering. We’ve got to think about Chad’s safety. What’s the best plan?”

  More silence enveloped the three of them and then McNamara said, “Steve’s right, Kase. Let’s think about this. You ain’t any good with a handgun, are you?”

  She said nothing.

  “And,” McNamara continued, “Steve and me are trained for this kind of thing.”

  She compressed her lips and Wolf wondered if they’d come away bloody on the insides. She seemed to be teetering on the edge, so full of anger and emotion that she was close to the breaking point. He thought about little Chad’s always-smiling face and could hardly blame her.

  “Cummins doesn’t know how many of us there are,” he said. “And he’s probably going to assume that Mac’s going to be with me. That leaves you, Kasey, in a support role. Stay back and stay out of sight. Have you ever fired a pistol?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well,” Wolf said, thinking she was going to be real liability in a fire fight. “There’s a lot more to it than just pointing it and pulling the trigger so don’t shoot unless you absolutely have to. Like if your target’s right in front of you. And if you do shoot, don’t expect him to fall down like in the movies. Point it at his chest and keep firing, but again, only if you have to.”

  McNamara dug into his smaller duffle bag and pulled out a Beretta 92F. He shifted in the seat, racked the slide chambering a round and flipped the safety on. He gave her a quick course in how to fire it and how to release and set the safety. Wolf hoped she was a quick study and regretted that they hadn’t done this earlier when they were on the way here.

  “The best way to handle this is for me to approach Cummins alone,” Wolf said. “He wants the bandito. We shouldn’t give it to him unless we see that he does have Chad.”

  “And what if he doesn’t?” she said. “What if it’s all bullshit and Chad’s still with Charlie in that old fort?”

  “Then me and Steve will grab Cummins and make him take us back in there so we can get him.”

  “And me?” she asked.

  “I know it’s hard,” Wolf said. “As hard as all hell, but the best place for you to be is with the Escalade. We may need you to pick us up and take off real quick.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” he said. “We’ve all got to work together.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. Tears rolled down each cheek, then she placed a hand on Wolf’s shoulder.

  “Steve, I’m sorry for calling you—” She hesitated, then added, “I’m such a bitch.”

  “No, you’re not,” Wolf said. “Don’t worry about it. We’re all rubbed raw, you most of all. Let’s just concentrate on getting Chad back safe. That’s all that matters.”

  The road dipped slightly and as they rose back upward the ruins of the dilapidated and crumpling structures seemed to spring out of the desert floor, looking like a gateway to the netherworld in the pale moonlight.

  Welcome to the other side of hell, Wolf thought, and prayed they’d be able to get the boy back alive.

  Fort Lemand

  Southern Arizona

  Cummins was covered with sweat as he removed another stack of currency from the safe and packed it into one of the black duffel bags. Of course, he wasn’t completely sure if his sweating was due to the physicality of his movements or the immense pressure he was feeling of what was yet to come. The vault turned out to be a huge walk-in safe in the basement section of the building and it was full of stacks of money. Most of it, like the portion that they’d taken in the armed robbery of the armored truck, was in smaller denominations so it probably looked more impressive than it was and made for a more laborious loading process.

  Both Smith and Riley labored beside him with Keller standing guard by the door with his Kalashnikov and the big Desert Eagle in the holster.

  The thought of Smith and Riley taking him out seemed very problematic at the moment. Memories of the full-auto cycling of the AK-47 were still fresh in his mind. He heard Cherrie yelling something at the kid, who was apparently having some fun running around the basement.

  Best brushed by Keller and stepped back into the vault room.

  “Jack,” he said. “Those FBI men are calling back. I need you to answer it.”

  Cummins stood up and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.

  “How about giving us a hand, then, cap?” Smith said with a wry grin. “We could use another set of hands here.”

  Keller stiffened and Best gave a fractional nod. The big man exhaled forcefully, put his rifle on safe, and leaned it against the wall by the door.

  As Cummins straightened up and began walking out of the vault, he caught Smith giving him a quick wink.

  Cummins strode over to a small wooden table where the federal cell phone lay. It continued to chime. He picked it up and pressed the button, putting it on speaker. Best stood right beside him.

  “Hey, Jack,” the FBI negotiator said. “It’s Nick. How you doing?”

  The negotiator had put things on a first-name basis in his first call and Cummins had inadvertently given him his real first name. Not that he expected anything to come of it. Not only were there a lot of Jacks in the world but the fed probably thought it was a phony anyway.

  “Nick,” Cummins said, “I still haven’t been able to track down the boss.”

  “Come on, Jack,” Nick said. “Don’t bullshit me. I thought we were making progress here when you told me you’d find him?”

  Cummins saw Best glancing back and forth between him and the vault.

  He mouthed the word, “Stall,” and pointed to the kid running around.

  Cummins nodded.

  “We are making progress,” Cummins said. “And I think you should know that there are civilians inside this facility.”

  “There are? Who are they?”

  Cummins glanced toward Best, hoping for guidance, but there was none. He decided to wing it.

  “Women and children,” he said. “The families of some of the members here. I know you wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would you?”

  “No, no,” Nick said slowly. “Of course not. How many are there?”

  Best shook his head.

  Cummins felt himself flush. Why didn’t this idiot just take the phone and conduct this negotiation himself?

  “Jack? You there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Not that I doubt your veracity,” Nick said, “but my supervisors are leaning on me to give them an update on what’s going on. If you can tell me how many women and children are in the facility, it would go a long way in helping me out.”

  Cummins looked back toward the vault and said, “Hold on.” He motioned toward Cherrie and the kid. They both stopped and he covered the cell phone with his hand, stooping down and addressing Chad.

  “Hey,” he said, trying to use his most ingratiating tone. “Want to say hello to my friend, Nick?”

&nb
sp; Chad smiled as Cummins held the phone forward.

  “Hi, Nick,” Chad said.

  Cummins whisked the phone away and put it back to his ear.

  “There,” he said. “See? There are about a dozen or so inside here. I’m trying to work with Colonel Best to set up a release to get them out of harm’s way. But we have to have your assurance that you won’t move on us unexpectedly. For the sake of the women and the kids.”

  “Jack, I give you my word. The last thing we want is anybody getting hurt.”

  “Fine,” Cummins said. “Now give me some time. I’ll call back in half an hour.”

  He pressed the button and set the phone back onto the table. It had a special setting that prevented him from calling out to any number except Nick’s. But hopefully, after that little bit of gamesmanship, he’d bought them some time. He’d said half an hour so they should have at least fifteen or twenty minutes. Cummins looked at Best for approval but the other man frowned.

  “Why did you tell them my name?” he asked.

  Cummins felt the question was absurd. Did he actually think the feds would be ignorant of who was running this show? But Cummins knew he couldn’t exactly say that.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said.

  Best stared at him, glanced at his watch, then placed his hand on Cummins’s shoulder, easing him back toward the vault.

  “Don’t be troubled,” Best said. “Let’s just finish getting this stuff loaded.”

  When they got inside they saw that the others had finished emptying in the safe. Five large duffel bags sat on the floor stuffed to capacity.

  “Ready for transport, sir,” Keller said.

  Best nodded and went to what appeared to be a huge wooden platform mounted against the cement wall on heavy steel rails. He removed a set of keys from his pocket and slipped one into a heavy-duty security padlock. Once he’d disengaged the lock from the hasp, he pushed the wooden platform to the right, revealing a sloping ramp that descended into the darkness. Best reached over and flipped a light switch and a set of fluorescent lights above the ramp lit up. Additionally, at the sloping base of the ramp, a seemingly unending series of spaced overhead lights blinked on, exposing a long tunnel. Four golf carts sat side-by-side with cords running to a charging post that ran to an outlet on the wall.

 

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