Null smiled broadly. He liked what he was hearing. "You have my full support, Director Riddle. I'll get on this immediately."
Riddle reached out and patted Null on the shoulder. "I had no doubt. Now let's get that bastard out of here."
45
Banks Compound
West Virginia
On the same morning that Conor surrendered himself to the insurgent Jim Powell, Ricardo showed up at Valeria's cabin first thing in the morning to fill her in on his discussion with Earl Banks. Once she'd heard the plan, Valeria had no reservations about relocating to Conor's compound. She seemed excited about the prospect of a new adventure. Her move to the Banks compound was a significant improvement over her virtual imprisonment on the George Mason campus. She was safe at the Banks compound, but after months there she was ready for new scenery and new experiences. Even when Ricardo explained that Banks had offered to let her stay there in his absence, she wasn't tempted.
"Earl is a nice man, but I work for you and I'm ready to do my job. I'm ready to start paying you back for some of the things you've done for me."
"Then go ahead and get your stuff together. I'll be back here for you in thirty minutes. Banks has a chopper on the way."
She wasted no time, excitedly beginning to pack her belongings before Ricardo was even off the porch. He returned to his cabin and got his gear together, which didn't amount to very much. Most of his gear was still in the storage containers at the quarry near Manassas. Hopefully, his cache was still intact and he'd be able to get back there one day to retrieve some of it. All he had, for now, was the gear he'd been carrying on his back when he'd gone to see Terrence Long. Some of it had been lost along the way, including the assortment of satellite phones that he desperately wanted back, but had to assume were lost forever.
In a little less than an hour, Ricardo and Valeria were standing near the chopper pad with their gear piled alongside them. They both had balaclavas hanging around their necks, ready to pull them up over their faces when the chopper landed. While they waited, Banks presented Valeria with a .380 caliber handgun and ankle holster that she could carry as a backup to the Glock 19 he'd already given her.
"Thank you so much," she cooed, strapping it on beneath her pants leg.
"It's nothing," Banks said. "I buy those little Rugers by the dozen. Just promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise."
When they heard the thrum of approaching rotor blades, Valeria gave Banks a quick hug and thanked him for all his kindness. He told her that she was welcome back anytime, for as long as she wanted to stay. Ricardo shook his old friend’s hand, promising he'd see him again soon.
"I wish I had a spare sat phone to give you," Banks said. "Then you guys could reach out if you needed help. All I've got is the one though, and I need it to conduct business."
"No worries," Ricardo said. "We'll be fine."
"Well, if I don't hear anything from either you or Browning in a month, I'm coming out there to check on you," Banks promised.
Ricardo smiled. "I appreciate it, old friend."
The chopper dropped expertly onto the landing pad and the door slid open. The crew chief swung to the ground and headed directly for Ricardo with his palm outstretched. This was business, after all, and the toll had to be paid in advance. Ricardo handed over the agreed-upon price in gold. After the crew chief examined the coin for a moment, he tucked it into a shirt pocket and helped them with their gear.
Banks waved as the two passengers boarded and strapped into seats. Then the door was shut and seconds later the chopper was disappearing over the trees. As they'd planned, they didn't talk during the trip. Each did their best to catch glimpses of the countryside from the windows. From above, the world almost looked normal.
When they reached Conor's compound, Ricardo directed the pilot to circle the area once just to make sure there was no one moving around the property. When he was fairly confident it was empty, just as it had been last time, he gestured to the pilot. "Set her down!"
The pilot did as he was asked, dropping into the well-marked landing zone. The crew chief threw open the door and helped them quickly offload their gear. His assistance wasn't so much about being helpful as it was about getting them off the aircraft so they could get back in the air. When everything was offloaded, Ricardo put a hand on Valeria's shoulder and directed her to crouch alongside their gear while the chopper lifted off. Ricardo shouldered his weapon and covered them against any threats on the ground.
The whine of the engines grew louder. The rotor wash stirred dust and debris that pelted their skin and clothing. Valeria pinched her lips shut against it but could still taste dirt in her mouth. When the chopper was gone, she flipped her grimy eye protection out of the way and shouldered her weapon exactly as Ricardo had shown her. She took a position beside him and studied the compound. A goat poked its head out of a shed and glared at her curiously.
"What now?"
Ricardo glanced toward the living quarters. "Today you get a lesson in basic lockpicking. My friend Conor uses ridiculously cheap, off-the-shelf locks because he's not concerned about a break-in. I see his point because anyone who breaks into his house won't be walking out under their own power. Those cheap locks are easy to pick and we'll be inside shortly."
The two shuttled their gear over to the front door of Conor's living quarters and Ricardo showed Valeria the various picks, rakes, and tension wrenches. "This is a simple Kwikset lock. It has five pins. It's very common and a breeze to pick. You have to remember that you're leaving your back unprotected while you're picking a lock. Stay hyper-aware and regularly check your surroundings. You don't want someone sneaking up on you and clubbing you over the head because you're too focused on what you're doing."
With that warning in mind, Valeria split her attention between Ricardo's instructions and keeping an eye out for anyone who might have been drawn by the sound of their chopper. He demonstrated how to use the tension wrench to apply the lightest of pressure to the cylinder.
He made it sound easy. "Apply just enough pressure, lift the pins to the right point, and the shear line of each pin will align with the top of the cylinder, allowing it to open. That's all it takes. Then you're unlocked."
He tried a rake first since it was a simple lock and managed to open the door in less than ten seconds. With the door open, they cleared the house to make sure there was no one hiding inside. When they were comfortable it was empty, the two hauled their gear inside and dumped it in the living room.
"Get a chair from the kitchen," Ricardo said. "Place it here in front of the door. I want you to lock the door back and sit there until you're able to open the lock with the picks."
Valeria was excited about the project, anxious to learn such a forbidden skill. Before turning her loose to work on the lock by herself, he used a diamond pick to show her how to find each pin and test its range of movement. When he was comfortable that she understood the inner workings of the lock, he left her to practice while he searched the compound.
He started at the front gate, confirming it was locked with a chain and padlock. He then worked his way through the maze of equipment, junk, and sheds. It didn't appear that anything had changed since their last visit there. He didn't try to enter the guest cabins, the shops, or any other locked structures since Valeria was using his entry tools, but he peered through the windows to see what he could make out.
Ricardo saw more than he'd seen on his previous visit. The last time he'd felt rushed with the pilots waiting on them. Now there was no pressure. He could see two heavy vehicles were missing, which had apparently been sitting in one spot for some time. Depressions in the ground revealed where their wheels had been. There were also a few missing storage containers. Rectangles of bare dirt the approximate size of Conex boxes marked where the containers had sat before being moved. Drag marks told him that the boxes had been pulled a short distance before being dragged aboard a truck and driven off.
Ricardo understood
that there was some fuel available for such activities even under the current conditions. Conor had frequently asked that barrels of diesel be included in the payments he'd received for assignments Ricardo had given him. The question was what had been in those missing Conex containers and who had taken them? Had it been Conor's people moving them somewhere else or had the containers been stolen in Conor's absence?
Looking through the shop windows, Ricardo noticed something else he'd missed on the previous visit. Some of the shelves were cleaned out. He didn't know enough about how the shop had looked before to understand what had been taken. One encouraging sign came from the state in which they found the living quarters. While things were disheveled and chaotic, the house didn't appear to have been looted or vandalized. It looked like it had been emptied in a coordinated and thoughtful manner. That strongly suggested that the people who'd emptied the house were in some way affiliated with Conor.
He wondered if it might have been Conor himself who emptied the compound, but he couldn't imagine the man willfully vacating the property. He loved the place. That was assuming he was alive, and Ricardo had no proof of that. The operation aboard the Shandong had been six long months ago and Ricardo had no information on what had taken place after that. All he knew was that the mission had been a failure.
Even if he didn't believe everything he'd heard from Long, the fact that Ricardo had found Long and his cohorts openly enjoying a dinner party was proof enough that they were no longer scared of the Macallan Collective. If Conor's mission aboard the cruise ship had been a success, everyone gathered at Long's house would have been in hiding somewhere. They'd have been scared to raise their heads for fear they'd be shot off.
Ricardo couldn't be sure how long the trucks and containers at Conor's compound had been gone, but he didn't think they'd been gone for six months. Had that been the case, grass would likely have filled in those areas of dirt that had once been beneath the containers. Also, someone had put out a garden this summer and had been maintaining it for the most part. Vegetables were being picked and weeds pulled. There were even footprints in the soft soil of the garden, though they told him nothing about who the gardeners might have been.
Then there was the livestock with their full watering troughs. They weren't filled by an automated watering system, which meant that someone was caring for the animals. They must be close by if they were still visiting the compound. Not necessarily within walking distance, but likely within a distance that could easily be traveled on horseback.
That meant that whoever was frequenting the compound might show up at any time. While it could be someone whom Ricardo had met before, it could also be someone he hadn’t encountered on any of his previous visits to the compound. It could also be someone who'd be very hostile toward any strangers they found living on the compound. A person like that might shoot first and ask questions later. He and Valeria would need to be on their guard.
46
Jewell Ridge, Virginia
While Conor and Barb were gone to carry out Browning's dirty work in a nearby community, Wayne stayed at Johnny Jacks' place. His role was both to help the Jacks' family with their farm and to monitor activities in the surrounding community. He also kept an eye on the trucks and containers of supplies that Conor had moved from his compound to the Jacks' farm.
This wasn't because Conor didn't trust the Jacks family, but he didn't want anyone else in the community to discover the cached supplies and try to take them. After all, Johnny hadn't healed very quickly after the attack that killed his wife, so most of the farm chores fell on his son and daughter-in-law. The extra hands provided by Wayne found plenty of work making repairs, tending to the farm, and performing some security duties. Perhaps most important of all, Conor had asked Wayne to make a visit back up the ridge every few days to check on Ragus and Shannon at the dog-hole mine. While the two were old enough to look out for themselves most of the time, sometimes trouble showed up even when no one was looking for it.
By pure chance, Wayne happened to be riding his horse up the winding asphalt road in the direction of Conor's compound when he picked up the sound of an approaching chopper. He didn't take cover on the overgrown mountain road but did stop his horse to better study the sound of the helicopter. He waited for it to top over the ridge, suspecting from its proximity that he'd be able to see it as it did. It never materialized. He heard it approaching, then shortly afterward the sound began receding.
Had this been an isolated event, he'd have assumed the chopper approached on some bearing that kept them on the other side of the ridge and that was why he hadn’t caught sight of them. Yet the first thing that came to mind was the chopper they'd heard last time. Ragus and Shannon said they'd seen it land at the compound and had observed people from the chopper searching the compound. Wayne had to wonder if they'd decided to come back. If that was the case, he'd love to hear what brought them to Conor's compound.
He nudged his horse into a canter, the shod hooves clattering off the asphalt. Wayne rode until he was about a half-mile from the compound. Despite the dense forest with its thick summer canopy, this was as close as he dared ride for fear of his horse being heard. He dismounted and tied the animal off to a tree, hoping that no one came along and helped themselves to it while he was occupied.
Wayne set out at a jog, not breaking stride until he was within one hundred yards of Conor's gate. There he slowed to a walk and calmed his breathing. He paused at a thick cluster of kudzu that engulfed a power line. The amorphous blob of greenery hung from the lines like a nest oozing bees. It created a dense cover that blocked Wayne from the compound, yet allowed him to peer around it and watch for anything out of place.
His rifle had a six power scope and when he failed to detect anything with his bare eye, he raised the rifle to take advantage of the optic. The first thing he spotted was a young woman picking the lock on Conor's home. She was comfortably seated in a chair, patiently poking at the lock as if she didn't have a care in the world. Wayne couldn't see her face at this distance due to the angle of her body, but she had distinctive blue hair. He'd have remembered that if it was someone he'd met before. From what he could see she was wearing tactical clothing and web gear. There was also a rifle leaning against the wall alongside her.
Wayne wondered what Conor would have done in this instance. Would he drop the lady with his rifle or would he fire a warning shot into the ground alongside her? Would he walk up and club her in the head with his rifle? Wayne was uncertain. Then again, maybe it was best that he act from impulse rather than trying to anticipate how Conor would react. The things that worked for Conor Maguire were not guaranteed to work for anyone else.
Wayne recalled that Shannon and Ragus had observed two people the last time a chopper dropped into the compound, so he kept looking. He carefully moved the scope around the compound and finally spotted an armed man stepping out from between two of the shop buildings. The man wore jeans, a black polo shirt, and web gear. There was also a handgun on his hip. Despite his gear, he was a slim man, not heavy with muscle like so many of the military folks Wayne had met.
He tracked the intruder as he moved from structure to structure. With his hat, long hair, and sunglasses he didn't resemble anyone Wayne had ever seen before, but the distance made it hard to analyze features. The man peered through windows and opened any unlocked doors that he came to. Wayne couldn't be sure if he was making a mental inventory or if he was just searching for anyone who might be living at the compound. The man was vigilant and on alert, moving with his rifle up as he methodically cleared the compound.
Resting his crosshairs on the man's back, Wayne considered whether he should shoot him where he stood and then go for the woman trying to break into Conor's house. He needed to do something. He couldn't just leave them here. With the chopper gone, they clearly had plans to stay for a while. Neither could he wait for Conor to come home and solve the situation because the compound was just too close to where Ragus and Shannon were stay
ing. There was no way he could go back to Johnny's place and leave these folks here.
While he wasn't as violent as Conor, Wayne could be a hard man. The times had made him even more so. He had no problem with taking the lives of two people breaking into his friend's property, but something nagged at him. If this was the same pair who'd been here earlier, what were they looking for? Why had they chosen to come back? More importantly, who were they?
Obviously, the only way he was going to get answers to his questions was to put them to the people before him, but he couldn't exactly bang on the gate and shout his questions through the fence. He needed to take control of the situation and ask his questions when he had the upper hand. Not only was that the safest way for him personally, that kind of questioning was more likely to produce an honest answer. People staring down the barrel of a gun had a certain motivation they didn't have when they were on equal footing with their questioner.
Wayne lingered outside the fence, playing different scenarios through his head. Part of him wanted to slip through the fence and take on these two by himself, but he kept imagining all the ways it could go wrong. If they knew he was just one guy, they might fight back and someone could get killed. While he wouldn't lose any sleep over their deaths, dead men told no tales. He wanted to take them alive so he could demand answers. As much as he hated to admit it, that was much more likely to happen if the pair was outnumbered and saw no path forward except for surrender. Like it or not, he had to bring Ragus and Shannon in on this.
Ultraviolent: Book Six in The Mad Mick Series Page 33
