BlackStar Enigma

by T C Miller

  “I see what Joanna’s saying,” Licia said. “If they wanted to kidnap Star or me, they’d have to show proof of life.”

  “Good point,” Joanna replied. “Not where I was going, but it makes sense.”

  Licia smiled at the compliment.

  “Why would you assume I’m the one they’re after?” Star asked in a shrill voice.

  “Nobody said you were,” Jake answered in a firm tone. “We’re spit balling here.”

  “Spit balling? What’s that, old people talk?”

  “It means tossing out ideas for everybody to consider and offer suggestions. As in, two heads are

  better than one, or, in our case, four heads.”

  “Oh, I see, I think.”

  “Good. It looks like there are at least three or four perps up there, and we’re too exposed here,” Jake said. “We’d be better off on the other side in a ravine. Can you two manage it?”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes,” Licia replied.

  “Good, how about you, Star?”

  “I…I’m not sure. My legs feel weak, and I have a headache.”

  “I have aspirin in my first aid kit.”

  “I’m allergic to it.”

  “What about Tylenol?” Joanna broke in.

  “That I can take.”

  Joanna reached into the side pocket of her pack. “Great, here are two and a bottle of water.” She handed the caplets and bottle to the teenager. I feel like her mother.

  “Here’s how it’ll go,” Jake said. “I’ll provide cover fire for you. Licia, run as fast as you can across the highway and hide behind those boulders. Joanna and Star will be right behind you.”

  He turned to Joanna. “Set up a position as soon as you get over there and cover me while I run to you.” “Roger that,” Joanna replied.

  Jake pulled back the charging rod on the M16, and a round slid smoothly into the chamber. “Go for it, ladies.”

  He fired a three-round burst at the sniper position in the trees. Flashes told him two shooters were returning the fire. He alternated firing between the two, and one stopped, but picked up after a minute.

  Joanna tucked her arm in Star’s and propelled her across the two-lane road, while Lisa hissed, “Hurry up.”

  Jake checked the progress of the three women and saw Licia run in a serpentine pattern BlackStar instructors taught her after the attack in Rocky Mountain National Park.

  Star tripped, but regained her footing with Joanna’s help. They reached the other shoulder and jumped across a narrow drainage channel.

  Star stumbled and fell face first into the snow. She landed with her hands stretched out and collapsed to the frozen ground, screaming in pain.

  Licia stopped long enough to yank Star to her feet with one arm while Joanna grabbed the other. They pulled Star behind car-sized boulders.

  Joanna slid the M16 off her shoulder and charged the weapon. She peeked over a boulder, saw flashes in the tree line, and sent successive three-round bursts into the trees.

  The distance was too far to be accurate, but it stopped the bad guys from shooting long enough for Jake to dash across the highway and join them behind the boulders. Joanna scanned the trees for signs of movement but saw none.

  “Who’s this?” Jake said as an older model flatbed farm truck with a fuel-supply tank behind the cab pulled up in back of Jake’s Blazer.

  The driver was undecided about going around the disabled vehicle or checking for injured people.

  “Should we warn him?” Joanna asked Jake.

  “Guys in the trees seemed to be after us,” he replied. “They may not bother with him, especially if he moves along.”

  The words barely crossed his lips when the door of the beat-up truck opened with a protesting squeal. A squat man in overalls, a mud-caked Carhart jacket, and a seed-company cap stepped out of the driver’s side and walked toward the Blazer.

  “Get down,” Jake yelled and waved him back.

  “What’s going on?” the man yelled across the road.

  “Been an accident or something?”

  “Take cover, there’s a sniper in those trees.”

  “A what? Can’t hear you over the wind.” He took another step toward the Blazer and strained to see through the tinted windows. “Get down, now!”

  The driver moved toward Jake, but froze in his tracks when a rifle round entered his right ear. His eyes rolled up, and his whole body trembled. He fell to the pavement, eyes wide open in a death stare.

  Habit and training pushed Jake to check for a pulse.

  Joanna laid her hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do. He’s gone.”

  “Why did they kill an innocent old man?”

  “To keep us from getting help,” Licia answered the rhetorical question. “The snipers are serious.”

  “We need to focus on staying alive. I’ll go check to see if the truck has a CB radio.” Jake stopped when a rifle round hit the spare fuel tank behind the back window of the farm truck. A bright orange ball of flames engulfed the cab and sent a plume of black smoke spiraling skyward.

  Jake retreated from the flames. “So much for the

  CB.”

  “What now?” Joanna asked. “Give me a second.”

  Underground Home, Marston Ranch, WY.

  “Have you looked at the outside monitors?” Mary yelled down the hallway from the living room.

  “No, I’m in my office writing a bill for Glenn McFadden. Why, did the weather get worse?”

  “It’s not the weather. A huge cloud of dark smoke is coming from the highway.”

  Doc padded into the living room and stood next to her. “You’re right, definitely a fire. I’ll put shoes on and check it out.”

  “Better put on more than shoes. Looks like the snow is getting heavier.”

  “Chalk up another miss for the weathermen. I’ll bet a dollar to a doughnut that Arctic storm is going to wallop us after they said it wouldn’t come close.”

  “They aren’t nearly as smart as a country vet and his wife, are they?” Mary grinned.

  “I’ve said it before, and it’s true, most weathermen are city people. They’re good at studying printouts and radar. Nothing’s better than boots-on-the-ground….”

  “Smoke looks serious on the monitor, darling. You might want to hurry.”

  “Putting my boots on as we speak. I’ll take my bag in case there are injuries, along with heavy blankets.

  Doesn’t take long to freeze your butt off in weather like this.”

  ***

  Chapter Seven

  Georgetown Waterfront Park Washington, DC

  “Did you get tired of the sleazy bar?” Hans Boerman asked Jack Morgan.

  “Thought we could use a little privacy. Aren’t many people out here this time of night so I can yell as much as I want.”

  Boerman scowled. “Nobody yells at me, Morgan. I’m not a recalcitrant child….”

  “There you go again, showing off your superior vocabulary. When are you going to learn people don’t like being talked down to?”

  “Probably never. Look, the night air in this swamp is killing my sinuses, and I have a dinner date, so let’s get this over with. I suppose we’re here because of the bombing fiasco.”

  “Figure that out all by yourself, Einstein? Of course, we’re here about yet another failure from you. Not only did your people miss, but now the entire NSA is on full alert. Gonna make it really hard for you the next time.”

  “Next time? Oh, there won’t be a next time, and you can bank on it. As far as I’m concerned, this mission is over, done…finis.”

  Morgan smirked. “See, you hit the problem right on the head, Hans, old buddy. You’ve lost your drive, and you give up way too easy. Not like your assistant,

  Aaron.”

  “Aaron? What’s he got to do with this?”

  “Quite a bit since he’ll be taking your place.”

  “Consortium won’t let that happen.”

  “Not tru
e. I talked to Gunter Wilhelm an hour ago, and he’s tired of your constant screw-ups, too. Doesn’t care who runs your group, or, to paraphrase him, they couldn’t do any worse than you. See? I know words like paraphrase.”

  A bead of sweat appeared on Han’s forehead. “I’m not going to stand here and listen…”

  “Bingo, Hans, old buddy! That’s the first time you’ve been right since we met. No, you don’t have to

  listen. In fact, all you have to do is die.”

  “Great line, but who’s going to do it?”

  “Me.” A shadowy figure stepped out from behind a tree.

  “Aaron?”

  “As a matter of fact.”

  “I’m suppose Morgan is offering you a lot of money.”

  “A boatload. In fact, double what he was going to pay you, plus I get a fat bonus to get rid of you.”

  “Do you actually think you’ll live to collect? He’s a snake and a liar….”

  “Like most people in this line of work. Anyway, this is business, not personal.”

  Hans looked from Morgan to Aaron, and back.

  “C’mon now, guys. Can we work something out?

  Bargain a little? I’ll give up my team….”

  “Done deal if you’re dead. Got anything else?”

  “How about secret account numbers in overseas banks?”

  “Aaron gave them up this morning.”

  “But not the passwords.”

  “I have people who can hack them. Look, this is really getting boring, so unless you…”

  In one lightning-fast motion, Hans drew a Glock Model 17 from a hidden belt holster and fired a 9x19mm Parabellum round into Aaron’s forehead. His former assistant collapsed to the leaf-covered ground in slow motion.

  Hans turned toward Morgan a fraction of a second late. A .45ACP round from a Model 1911A1 Morgan wore in a shoulder rig tore into Boerman’s shoulder and spun him around. He joined Aaron on the ground and stared at the other man’s lifeless eyes.

  Morgan moved toward Hans to finish Hans, but froze when a police siren yelped from the parking lot, and a spotlight beam swept the area.

  “Police, drop your weapon.”

  Morgan fired three rounds at the patrol car. One shattered the spotlight, and another pierced the windshield as he ducked into the line of trees and ran down a jogging path.

  The officers pursuing him were trained to request backup before beginning a pursuit, and Morgan used the time to run a quarter-mile to another parking lot.

  The former DEA agent smiled with glee as he slipped behind the wheel of a rental car and sped away. He was on the Whitehurst Freeway heading into DC five minutes later.

  The first police officer to reach Hans checked for a pulse. “Hey, this one’s breathing. Call for EMTs.”

  Marston Ranch

  Doc pulled the oversized pickup out of the steel entrance building five minutes later and headed down the mile-long driveway. He thought about putting snow-chains on, but it didn’t look bad enough yet. Besides, people might be injured, so every second could be crucial.

  He reached the highway and drove toward the smoke. Doc pulled the CB mike off a mount on the dash. “Mary, do you copy?”

  “Sure do, sweetheart. Where are you?”

  “About a quarter mile from the big curve to the west where I hit the deer last spring. Got two vehicles on the side of the road and one’s on fire. Appears to be a body on the pavement. Don’t see anybody else around. Wait, hold on a sec. I see people in a gully on our side of the road.”

  Doc pulled over a truck length short of the accident scene. He stepped out of the truck and heard a yell.

  “Get down.” The command came from an attractive blonde-haired woman in her mid-twenties.

  “What? Can’t hear you over the wind,” Doc replied as he closed the door to keep heat inside.

  A dark-haired man in his late twenties scrambled toward Doc in a crouched position. “Get down, there’s a sniper up in the trees.”

  “Sniper? A what?”

  The passenger-side window of Doc’s truck exploded into a hundred sparkling pieces of safety glass that covered the dash and seats. He ducked below the hood, as a dull thunk came from the engine compartment, and it ground to a halt. “You want to tell me what the sam hill is going on?”

  “Unknown perps up in those trees shooting at us,” Joanna shouted at the top of her lungs.

  “Why?”

  “It’s a long story,” the young man said. “We’ll fill you in later. I’m Jake Thomas, that’s Joanna Davies, and we’re federal agents. Saw you coming down the hill. Thought you might be a perp.”

  “A what? Oh, you mean a bad guy. Well, in my misspent youth maybe…never mind. I’m Robert

  Marston, known as Doc in this part of the country.” “Real doctor, or a nickname?”

  Doc grinned. “I get that a lot. In between…I’m a veterinarian.”

  “Come over here out of the line of fire,” Joanne yelled from across the highway.

  “What about the guy on the pavement? We’re not going to leave him, are we? He may need help.”

  “Not anymore. Took a round to the head. You know him?”

  “Not really. I’ve seen him in town a time or two. His name is…or was, Jim Anderson, or Andrews, I think. Never wanted to talk much. Guess it’s too late now.”

  “Jim have something to hide?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Lot of folks out here keep to themselves unless it’s an emergency.”

  A double-cab dually approached the scene, and

  Jake raised his rifle.

  “Don’t, he’s a neighbor.” The truck came to a halt, and Glen McFadden hopped out. He took two steps and was cut down by a burst of rifle fire.

  Doc froze in shock for a moment, then moved toward him.

  Jake put his hand on Doc’s shoulder. “Stop and look at his wounds, Doc. You can’t help him.”

  Jake’s words registered, and Doc crouched down with his head bowed.

  “You live around here?” Jake asked.

  “On the hill.”

  “All I saw was a steel utility building.”

  “That’s all you’re supposed to see. House is below grade.”

  “Is it defensible?”

  “It’s set up to protect us from intruders.”

  “I hate to impose, but can we go there now?”

  “I’ll get a hold of my wife on the CB and tell her we’re coming. We’re in a cell phone dead spot here.”

  “I thought the whole state was a dead spot.”

  Doc offered a tight smile. “Keeps tourists to a minimum.” He grasped the door handle as a hail of bullets tore up the dash and shattered the radio. “So much for that idea. Maybe we should join your friends.”

  “Good idea,” Jake replied as he scanned the trees and checked firing angles.

  “You two ready to come over?” Joanna shouted over the wind.

  “Now would be good,” Jake yelled back. A series of three round bursts from Joanna’s M16 provided cover while the two men ran across the highway and scampered into the gully.

  Doc sat down on a flat rock to catch his breath and stared at the ground for a moment.

  “You okay, Doc?” Jake asked.

  “As okay as I can be. I talked to Glenn just this morning. Our families have been friends for over fifty years. I don’t see how I can break the news to his wife.”

  “I’m sorry about your loss,” Joanna said.

  “Thanks, young lady. I’m Doc Marston, local vet.” He extended his hand.

  Joanna and Jake took off their gloves long enough to return the shake. They introduced themselves and their two charges. Licia shook hands. Star mumbled and kept her head down.

  “She hurt her hands jumping over the ditch and twisted her ankle,” Licia said. “Which is why she’s not shaking hands.”

  Star squealed when Doc gently examined her ankle. “Doesn’t look broken. Could be a sprain. I’ll take an x-ray when we get to the house.
”

  “Speaking of which,” Jake said. “We need to move before the bad guys show up to finish us off.”

  “This ravine branches off about a hundred feet ahead. Cut to the right climbs to the back of the entrance building. The other leads down to the highway.”

  “Good to know. You gonna be okay?”

  “I’ll mourn after we’re out of danger. Glenn didn’t deserve to die like that. I’d love to get my hands

  around the throat of the person who did it.”

  “If things go well, you may get the chance.”

  Doc moved toward the ravine that paralleled the highway since it was deep enough to offer cover from the sniper.

  Licia prodded Star. “Come on, Princess, we need to move.”

  Star’s eyes were glazed over from shock. She nodded and reached for Licia’s hand in slow motion.

  Licia helped her best friend to her feet and guided her in Jake’s footsteps.

  Star mumbled.

  “What?” Licia said. “Speak up.”

  “I said we’re going to die, aren’t we?” “Not with Jake and Joanna here.”

  Near Marston Ranch

  Pyotr held the radio mike in one hand and steered with the other. “We see nobody, Bocc.”

  “What is your location?” the tinny voice of Gregori Yancy came back.

  “I cannot be sure. Wait, I see driveway. Mailbox says Marston Ranch. Perhaps they seek shelter from weather there.”

  “Snow there is heavy?”

  “No, but blows hard, and Amerikanskis are weak.”

  “About this, you are right. Follow driveway and report what you find.”

  Pyotr turned onto the bumpy gravel driveway, which curved in a serpentine pattern up a steep hill.

  Sasha stirred from the nap he was taking curled up against the passenger side door and rubbed his head. “Hey, what is this you do?”

  Pyotr was concentrating on staying on the road. “I follow orders of beloved Bocc.”

  “He tells you to bang my head against door?”

  “Nyet, but is good way get your attention. Help look for subject vehicle. If we did not stop so often for you to relieve yourself, we might be near target vehicle.”