Burt gulped. He had watched Mack gun down Brian with his own eyes, and he knew one of them had put Bob down. “Look, I’ll tell you everything I kn—” A single bullet from out of nowhere ripped into Burt's brain before the man could finish another word.
Mack grabbed Brenda and yanked her back into the diner as Burt's body slithered down the wall. Wilson ran after Mack. As he did a bullet tore into his right calf. The man cried out in pain as his body crumpled to the dry, cracked alley dirt. Brenda reached out a strong hand, grabbed Wilson by the hood of his robe, and yanked the man into the diner just as another bullet sank into the wall beside the man's head.
Adam Frinton gritted his teeth and looked at the diner through a sea of corn with vicious eyes.
Chapter 4
“Alright!” Mack shoved Wilson into the walk-in cooler, “this is your jail cell!”
Brenda stepped in front of the cooler door and fixed Wilson with a hard stare. “Talk,” she ordered, holding her Glock 17 at the ready.
Wilson stumbled into a metal shelf holding a few boxes of old tomatoes. “Adam Frinton is a killer,” he managed to say through chattering teeth.
“No cult?” Brenda asked.
Wilson shrugged his shoulders. “Adam pretends to be this prophet. He knows stuff about everyone in town, stuff people shouldn't know.” Wilson clutched his shoulders, like he was hugging himself to relieve his terror.
“What else happened,” Mack ordered Wilson in a hard voice that mirrored his vicious eyes.
“Adam Frinton knew stuff about everyone but me. He couldn't answer the questions I asked, told me to shut up. But he knew everything about Brian. And Cody, Ken, George, Burt, Bob, Melvin… all the guys. All the land owners, if you catch my drift. Tried to tell Brian that… then Brian beat me into a pulp.”
Brenda glanced over her shoulder at Mack. Mack was staring at Wilson, reading the skinny toad like a book. “So this is about stealing land?” she asked.
“Land is already stolen. Adam Frinton had all the guys sign over their land to him. Well, sell their land to him for pennies is more like it. He promised all the guys that if they sold their land to him that he would make them all kings, reward them for their loyalty.” Wilson tried to step forward but Mack shook his head no. “It's cold in here.”
“You're wearing that robe, punk,” Mack snapped. “Keep talking.”
Wilson knew Mack was bad news. Mack was a tough cop from the big city. Wilson was a coward. “Adam knew stuff, like I said. He made all the guys believe he was a real prophet. The guy even knew stuff about the little boy's old man. Only, the guy refused to sell his land. Frinton had Brian and Ken drag him out into the corn… they killed him.”
Mack reached forward and slammed the cooler door shut, locking Wilson inside. “We're looking at a covert operation of some kind.”
“Seems that way,” Brenda agreed, locking her eyes on the back door. “We have a sniper on the roof. Can't risk going back outside.”
Mack checked the M-16 he was holding. “They won't try to burn us out of this diner. The fire can spread to the other buildings and turn the corn into a sea of fire. The corn is dry from the heat. One spark would do the trick.”
“Are you suggesting we light the corn on fire?” Brenda asked without taking her eyes off the back door. “Whatever you decide I'm with you.”
Mack shook his head. “Not yet,” he answered Brenda, looking up at a flimsy sheetrock ceiling. “We need to try and pick off our targets one by one.” Mack lowered his eyes and called Josh back into the kitchen.
“You gonna put me back in the cooler?” Josh asked, easing into the kitchen.
“No,” Mack stated. “I need you to stay out front where I put you and scream as loud as you can if you see anyone trying to get into the diner. Brenda will be right here.
“Where are you going?” Josh asked.
“Up. Now get back out front, son.” Josh looked at Mack with confused, scared eyes, then did as he was told.
“If we burn the corn right now, we won't get far,” Mack told Brenda, handing her the M-16 he was holding. “We can try to escape into the corn fields on the opposite side of the road, but we would be running blind, and if the fire spread, we could end up trapped. Plus these local guys probably know these cornfields like the back of their hand.”
Brenda watched Mack step up onto a flimsy wooden table and yank a sharp pocket knife out of the front pocket of his trench coat. “I'll watch the diner,” she said as Mack began cutting into the ceiling. Small pieces of sheetrock began striking Mack in his rough face.
He worked on cutting a hole in the ceiling he could fit through. After clearing away enough sheetrock, he put his pocket knife away, grabbed onto two solid wooden rafters, and hoisted himself up into a hot, tight crawl space. Old plywood covered the bottom of the roof, nailed down to weak two-by-fours. A simple shingled roof lay on top of the plywood. Mack poked his head back down into the kitchen. “Hand me that kitchen knife.”
Brenda spotted a sharp kitchen knife laying on the floor. She grabbed the knife and extended the handle up to Mack.
Brenda focused her eyes on the back door. Adam will expect us to dig in. He won't expect us to attack.
Brenda narrowed her eyes, glanced back at the walk-in cooler, and decided to ask Wilson a few more questions while Mack worked on the roof. Mack won't break all the way up into the roof until it gets dark. We have time. It's possible Adam will wait until it gets dark, too.
Brenda stepped back to the cooler and snatched the door open. Wilson looked at Brenda with a cold, shivering face. “I didn't hurt no one, honest,” he blurted out. “I… Brian let me come live with him. Free labor, that's all I was. I told him Adam was a louse. Please...”
“Shut up,” Brenda snapped at Wilson. “We'll let a jury decide your fate. Right now I want to know if you have ever seen any strangers in town other than Adam Frinton?”
Wilson licked his cold lips. “Yeah, once,” he confessed. “Brian was real drunk and being real mean. I took a walk into the corn, ended up near the farmhouse Adam stays at. Heard voices...” Wilson winced a little. “I was real mad about Brian beating up on me. I blamed Adam. Didn't know who Adam was talking to… didn't care. I was going to give the guy a piece of my mind.”
“Get real,” Brenda told Wilson in a disgusted voice. “If he’s what you say he is, you can't confront someone like that.”
“Yeah, I know,” Wilson grimaced, “but… I wanted to feel brave.” Wilson lowered his eyes. “I sneaked close to the voices. Adam was talking to a man he called Bruce. They were standing in the front driveway. I saw a limo, real flashy. The limo had a name—”
“What name?” Brenda snapped.
“It was real dark. I saw the name Collins… or Callers… or Callings… something like that. But I did see the word 'Pharmaceutical'. Honest as day I saw that word on that limo. The porch light was—”
“I get it,” Brenda grunted as her mind began to go to work. “You wouldn’t be alive if you had been seen. You might come in handy in a courtroom.” Too bad I can't make a phone call.
Brenda returned her focus to the back door. Whatever case they may be able to build later, the fact was she and Mack had to fight their way out of Green Ridge with a scared little boy.
***
Adam Frinton had no intention of allowing Mack or Brenda leave his town alive. “I'm watching the back,” he yelled into a black walkie-talkie, keeping his eyes trained on Brian's dead body. Flies were beginning to circulate around the man's lifeless head. “Ken, you and Cody watch the front. Tell George to circle around to my side and take up a position in the corn. I want him just far enough out to hide his position, but close enough in to see the alley. Is that clear?”
“Clear, Mr. Frinton,” Ken Sallows answered in a fighting voice. “You can count on us!”
Adam dropped his walkie-talkie into a black combat bag, yanked out his private cell phone, and called Bruce. “Send in a team,” he demanded. “I have five dead
men. I can't count on these local idiots anymore.”
Bruce stepped into a long meeting room with a conference table and black leather chairs. “Who are these cops,” he demanded, trying to grind his teeth into dust.
“I don't know,” Adam answered, eyeing the scorched cornfields stretching out before him. “Send in a team. I have the cops tied down in the diner.”
“No,” Bruce snapped and hit the long power table with a cruel fist. “Adam, I have too much at risk to be annoyed by two stupid cops.” Bruce closed his murderous eyes. “The cops have to be undercover agents. If I send in a team, I'll expose my position. You have to take care of them. Is that clear?”
“And what if I can't?”
Bruce imagined his right hand taking a knife and stabbing Adam in his face. “If you're still on shaky ground by tomorrow morning, I'll send in a team. But I warn you, if I have to send in a team, you won't leave Green Ridge alive. If you try to run, I'll find you. You know I will.”
Adam kept his eyes on the corn. “Consider it done, but if you ever threaten me again, I'll kill you myself.”
“You can try,” Bruce snapped and then ended the call. “This is no good,” he whispered in a voice that was filled with concern.
Without wasting a second, he made a call. “This is Bruce. Get a hit team ready. We have a problem. Green Ridge... Midnight... Everyone in town. Leave no one alive and then get rid of the bodies... Yes, including my brother. Make it look like they vanished into thin air. Raptured or something.” He smiled at the cleverness of that.
Bruce ended the call. Rhode was a professional killer who would get the job done. Rhode was also the only man who could kill Adam, or so Bruce believed.
Meanwhile, back in Green Ridge, George, following Adam’s order, was sneaking out of the back door of the general store and moving around to the other side of the street. From his perch on the diner’s room, Adam spotted George scurrying across the hot street wearing his black robe. “Idiots,” he complained. George was out of shape. Running through the blazing heat wearing a black robe was hard work. After he dashed into the corn and found a secured position, he dropped down onto cracked, dry dirt and nearly passed out from heat exhaustion. “Need a smoke… and a drink” George gasped, ripping the black hood off his head.
Adam aimed his rifle’s high-powered scope in George’s direction and spotted him pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, along with a silver flask filled with whiskey. Adam knew that if George accidentally set the corn on fire that the fire would consume the entire town within minutes. Adam felt rage burn through his heart. Instead of warning George to put his smokes away, he aimed his rifle at George's forehead and fired off a single shot. George never knew what hit him. “Mr. Frinton?” Ken screamed into his walkie-talkie.
“The enemy cops just shot George dead. They're back in the diner. Hold your position!” Adam hollered into his own walkie-talkie, feeling empowered.
“You're next, Bruce” he hissed.
Mack heard the shot that took the life of another drunken farmer. He lowered his right hand, listened, then wiped sweat from his forehead. The shot came above his head about seven feet off to his right. “I know where you're standing now,” Mack whispered. He went back to work.
Brenda heard the rifle shot. So did Josh. Josh came bursting into the kitchen. “It's alright, son,” Brenda assured him. “Go back where you were.”
Josh made a worried face and left the kitchen, but he had had enough of hunkering down behind a hot counter. Instead, he sneaked up to the shattered glass door, peeked outside… and then made a wild run for it.
Cody and Ken, in the general store across the street, were too busy running their mouths, wondering how many more of their friends were going to die, to notice Josh escape. “I don't want to die,” Cody told his friend, wiping hot sweat off his forehead. “I know Mr. Frinton is a prophet and all, but he ain't keeping no one alive.”
“I know,” Ken nodded his bony head and looked across the street at the diner. Everything looked quiet, but two crouching lions were waiting to attack with deadly force. “Man, let’s just get out of town. Forget Mr. Frinton!” Cody slapped his buddy on the shoulder, ripped off the black robe he was wearing, and tore out of the back door of the general store and vanished into the corn. Ken followed, deserting his position for good, leaving Adam Frinton alone to fight Mack and Brenda.
Chapter 5
“Ken, come in!” Adam growled into a tired walkie-talkie. “Cody?”
When silence answered Adam, anger and rage scorched the man's eyes. “Idiots!” he hissed, standing on the roof staring across a dry street at a run down general store. The store, it appeared, was deserted.
“Ken, get back to me right now or you're a dead man, do you hear me?” The bright, blistering sun was settling down in the west, casting long, eerie shadows over the sea of corn fields. A hot wind wandered through the corn fields, shaking the corn stalks like a mad man trying to strangle an innocent victim.
“I ain't in the store. Cody and me getting out of town,” Ken's voice finally came back. “We ain't dying for you. Too many of our friends are dead already! You can… cram it, pal. You ain't no prophet!”
Adam eyed the general store and then threw down the walkie-talkie so hard that Mack heard the crash. “Keep giving away your position,” Mack whispered, using his hands to pull away the last of some dry, weathered plywood. The underside of old, dirty, roof shingles appeared. All Mack had to do was get rid of the shingles and then he would have a clear opening to the roof. “When it gets dark.”
While Cody and Ken ran out the back of the general store, Josh was running all the way home to a dusty, parched white farmhouse surrounded by corn fields. “Ma!” he screamed, bursting through a screen door. “Ma!”
Josh ran into a bland living room with mismatched furniture. A skinny, sick woman was laying on a threadbare brown couch holding a liquor bottle in her hand. “Ma!”
“What… who is it?” Josh's mother moaned, drunk out of her mind. “Who's there?”
“It's me, Josh!” Josh looked down at his mother's drunken face. “Ma… you drunk again?”
“Go… away, Josh… leave me alone!” Josh's mother dropped the empty liquor bottle, turned her face toward the wall, and began mumbling something about an old boyfriend.
“Oh Ma...” Josh knew his mother was done for. His thin cheeks flushed with anger for a split second and then he ran back outside and looked around. “I can't stay here no more. Those cops will help me. Ma don't care about me anyways.”
Josh took off running like a scalded cat, making his way back to town. As soon as he hit the end of his house’s long, sunburned driveway, he ran into a tall man wearing a gray combat suit.
“Going somewhere, son?” The man grabbed Josh by his arm before the boy could run. “What's the rush?”
“Hey, let me go!” Josh yelled.
Rhode glared down at the helpless boy with murderous eyes. “Sure,” he hissed as he used his left hand to pull out a vicious combat knife. “I'll let you go.”
Josh bit down onto the right hand of the killer holding his arm, and tried to take a chunk of flesh out. Rhode hissed and released Josh, tossing him off to the side. Josh managed to stay on his feet and immediately tore off into the cornfields, feeling certain that the man was going to either shoot him or run him down.
But Rhode had more important work. He looked down at his right hand and saw a large piece of flesh missing. “Stupid brat!” he growled. “No escaping the team though. He’ll get what he deserves.”
He yanked out a black rag from the cargo pocket of his combat pants and tended to his wound. Then he traded the rag for his walkie-talkie and said, “I'm at the Alpha location. Start exterminating the houses. We'll move into town at midnight.”
Rhode whipped out a Glock 19 with a vicious silencer attached to the barrel and calmly entered Josh's house. He walked into the stinking living and spotted a drunk woman mumbling to herself. Rhode aimed his Glo
ck at the woman and fired off three clean shots. The woman stopped mumbling and lay still. “Alpha location clear.”
“Bravo location clear,” a hard voice came back to Rhode. “A fat man missing two teeth. Looked like someone got him real good.”
“Charlie location clear. Exterminated two men who were trying to put a lot of marijuana into a farm truck,” a second voice informed Rhode. “Heard the men talking. Names were Cody and Ken.”
“Keep sweeping out the houses,” Rhode ordered, staring at Josh's dead mother. “All houses must be clear before midnight.”
Adam had no idea that Bruce's hit team was out in the corn clearing out each farm house. He was busy trying to create an attack plan. “I can't kill these cops alone. They're dug in tight.” Adam gritted his teeth and then decided to do some talking.
“You in there!” he called down from the front of the roof. Mack heard Adam’s footsteps move away from his position above the kitchen. “Can you hear me?” Adam leaned his head forward and eyed the shattered glass door attached to the front of the diner. “Can you hear me?”
Brenda heard Adam yelling. Mack stuck his head down from the ceiling. “See what he wants,” he grunted, dripping with sweat. “Maybe I won't wait until the sun sets. Keep him talking.”
Brenda nodded and walked into the front of the diner, keeping low to stay out of sight of any gunmen in the street or the general store. Josh was missing. “Not good,” she said under her breath.
“What do you want?” she yelled, keeping her voice tough and hard.
“Too many people have died. I don't want anymore death,” Adam yelled into the dry, hot air. “Take your friend and leave. You have my word that no one will hurt you.”
“Give yourself up, Frinton. We know about the land steal,” Brenda yelled back. “We have a team on the way.” Brenda didn't like playing the bluffing game, but what did she have to lose? “Our team will be here within the hour.”
Adam tensed up. “You had your chance!” he hollered through gritted teeth. “Now you're going to die.”
Hide No Secrets Page 3
