“And the Dockery woman and child?” Serge asked.
“Inside.”
“The occupants, these Utzes, are they armed?” Serge asked.
“Everybody around here has guns,” Burt said. “I’m supposed to shoot anybody that comes out the front door, but the woman that killed Buck and Dixie is Daddy’s. My daddy said you can go around there.” The twin smiled.
“Who cut the power line?” Sarnov asked.
“I shot it in half.”
“What marksmanship,” Serge said.
“We shoot good on account of all the hunting we do.”
“What’s your name?” Serge asked.
“Burt.”
“You just stand here, Burt, and don’t do any more shooting. We will do any shooting that needs to be done.”
“Even if the Utzes comes out?” Burt asked.
“Yes, even then,” Serge said.
Burt exhaled loudly and shook his head as he thought it over. His breath was like something that might be expelled by a bloated corpse being opened up. “Okay. But if you need me to, I will.”
Max and Serge were about to walk around the building when Alexa Keen’s sedan came into view and pulled off the road.
Alexa and Antonia Keen climbed out of the car.
Serge had never met the two women, but he could see a resemblance between them. One was two or three inches shorter and lighter skinned. The Major held herself more stiffly than her sister. The agent was the more attractive.
“Major, this is Serge Sarnov. He’s-”
“I know who he is,” Antonia Keen interrupted, offering her hand.
“Why’d you bring her?” Serge asked Major Keen, meaning Alexa.
“What is your problem?” the agent asked. “As far as I can tell, this has nothing to do with you. So why are you here?”
“My understanding was that your sister wasn’t supposed to have a location until Monday.” The Russian ignored Alexa, spoke to Antonia.
“I didn’t expect her here now,” Max agreed.
“I didn’t expect it would be necessary to bring her in now either, but it is,” Antonia Keen told him. “Do you want to delve into why it is necessary now? I trust her. She’s had twelve years’ experience with volatile situations such as this one has become due to a series of screwups.”
In Serge’s book, the FBI agent was an unknown, unproven quantity. The woman could be a valuable asset, but he had a well-founded distrust of cops. With the crooked ones, loyalty was just a commodity. And most of them carried a lifelong dislike for their old enemies.
“I insisted on coming here,” the FBI agent said. “So far, this is strictly amateur hour. The woman and child were supposed to be captives. How hard is that? They sure as hell aren’t captives any longer. Not only did this young lady, whose background in combat is limited to the bridge table, escape, but she managed to kill two people with extensive experience in criminal violence in the process. This clearly has to be handled by someone who has the expertise to make sure it is done right from here out. I am the only one who can do that. I will make sure the deed is done in the manner of kidnappers, make sure the right evidence is left for me to find.”
“She’ll clean up this mess,” Major Keen said. “Any more questions?”
Serge told the Major, “I trust you because you’re up to your ears in our deal.”
“She’s my sister and she’s in this up to her ears, too,” Antonia said.
“She brought in Massey,” Serge reminded her sourly.
“She had her own reasons. She cut him loose when he started making progress,” the Major informed him curtly.
“If I wasn’t in on this, he’d have already crawled up your asses,” Alexa said. “Now, thanks to you people jumping the gun and trying to take him out prematurely, I don’t have him to lend credibility to my story. Am I wrong?” she demanded.
Serge thought about it as he stared into the agent’s hard eyes. He had a talent for detecting lies and she was not lying. This was a woman who was tired of being taken for granted, a woman who wanted to make the kind of money the firm could pay her. Just like her younger sister, this one had a sociopathic, selfish bent. Alexa Keen was one hard-core bitch. She’d go along with killing the Dockerys. And with killing the Smoots, who had been set up to take the blame.
“Okay,” he said. “Fine. Show us how to do this right.”
“First off,” the FBI agent said, “you can’t just take machine guns and shoot up the place, because the evidence recovery team won’t buy it. Bodies and buildings riddled with holes won’t work. No redneck kidnapper would do that. The subjects have to be put down with a knife, or a bullet in each skull. And preferably not before Monday in case Fondren needs proof of life.”
“We altered the timeline,” Max said. “This can’t wait. We do them now, especially with Massey somewhere out there. We’ll stash them dead and you can find them on Monday. I never saw why they had to be found at all.”
“Because,” Alexa said, sternly, “unless I find them, I won’t get the publicity. I won’t be able to control the evidence, so I won’t get my payoff, my reputation won’t be enhanced so I can’t open my security firm, and you won’t have a name to put on the large checks you are going to write me over the next ten or fifteen years. That’s why. Do it my way or I’m out of this.”
“If you’re out, you’re dead,” Serge said.
“You touch a hair on her head,” the Major said, “and you’ll have to shoot me, too. I die, the chain breaks. Without the contacts I have, Bryce will get the needle.”
“Okay,” Max said. “Hell with it. But first thing that goes queer on this deal, and sis’s dead and we’ll sanitize everything down to bare dirt.”
“Fine,” Major Keen said. “If Alexa’s not on the level, you can kill her as many times as you like.”
“So,” Serge said. “How do we do this?”
“What are we facing?” Alexa asked.
“An old couple inside. Man’s armed. They won’t give up the Dockerys without a fight.”
“So, any ideas?” Serge asked the agent.
“The oldest one in the book,” the agent told him. “How’s your Greek history?”
75
Winter Massey used the woods as cover to reconnoiter the store. Two men in black BDUs in front of the place, one of the Smoot twins off by himself. Sarnov, Randall, Alexa, and Antonia Keen having a discussion out of earshot of the others.
He picked his way around to the back where Peanut Smoot and the other twin were guarding the rear, using the black truck for cover and lighting. The twin stood beside the truck, aiming his shotgun at the store. Peanut was behind the open driver’s door, holding a handgun casually.
It was a siege. Someone was inside the building holding the Smoots at bay. Winter’s ear caught the unmistakable sound of a child crying. It had to be Elijah Dockery. He had no idea where Dixie and Buck Smoot were, but he doubted they were inside the store. Was it possible that Lucy had somehow escaped and made it here?
Winter figured his odds with a frontal assault were all against him. The men in assault suits wore ballistic vests, and his flashes would instantly give away his position. The Hydroshock slugs might not penetrate the vests, but they would break or at the least shatter ribs, take the men off their feet for a while. Inside twenty-five yards, the 00 buckshot pellets would remain within a twelve-inch cluster. He was more accurate with a handgun, but as soon as he started shooting, all of the targets would be firing at him, and he’d never get a chance to use his pistol. Even with tree cover, his chances of surviving the first few seconds were not good.
The twins had shotguns-probably three-inch Magnums loaded with buckshot-Peanut was brandishing a large revolver, the three men in black had MP5s, and Sarnov probably had a pistol. Alexa was carrying a Glock.40. As far as Winter could tell, only Antonia had no weapon.
Winter couldn’t imagine shooting Alexa, but he well might have to, and he knew he could. Her killing a woman and
child was more incomprehensible. He was amazed that she could have hidden her true self so effectively for so many years.
“Ed and Edna!” Peanut hollered. “Send the woman and kid on out. I’ll let both you live. You got my word on it. Ain’t like they’re your kin. She killed my Dixie and Buck. I can’t allow that to go unanswered.”
“If you’ve seen the condition this young lady’s in, you know that whatever happened to your kids was a site less than your kin deserved!”
Winter knew he had to act before the people out front spread out. These people were all accustomed to violence.
His only advantage at that moment was that nobody knew he was there. Surprise only took you so far, and sometimes the surprise was yours.
76
With Elijah clutched to her, Lucy Dockery huddled beside the refrigerator where Ed had put them. Edna sat beside her, back to the wall, holding a pistol in her lap. Ed had dead-bolted the door into the store. He had reinforced it so that in the event someone broke in, they’d make a racket trying to get into the back where the Utzes lived. The Smoots might come in that way, but they’d be ready for them.
“What will prevent them from setting the place on fire?” Lucy asked.
“Nothing,” Ed had answered.
It was obvious to everyone in the store that Peanut Smoot had somehow kept the fire department and the cops away. The warehouse fire was probably out by now. Lucy didn’t hold out much hope of help arriving. But she had tried her best, and had done more than she’d ever believed she could. She was heartbroken that Eli was going to die, and she regretted that she had gotten the Utzes involved.
“I hear a car.” Ed peeked out through the window blinds. “There’s lights. .”
Lucy heard a thunderous sound, and a vehicle roared around the building. Several more shots rang out.
A woman yelled, “FBI! Put down your weapons!”
“I’ll be,” Ed said excitedly. “The danged cavalry’s here!”
“Don’t shoot!” Peanut called. “We give up!”
Ed nodded. “Looks like old Peanut’s done in.” He set his shotgun against the wall and straightened up.
“You, in the store!” the female voice called out. “Hold your fire. I’m Special FBI Agent Alexa Keen. Are Lucy and Eli Dockery in there?”
“They sure are!” Ed answered.
“Unlock the door. I’m coming in.”
“I know who she is,” Lucy said, softly. “My father talks about her.”
“Come on in,” Ed called out.
Ed unlocked and opened the door and a woman dressed in a business suit came into the kitchen, backlit by the big truck’s headlights. She had a gun in her right hand, a badge in her left. She closed the door behind her, put her badge away, and, at the sight of Lucy and Eli, smiled.
“Are you all right?” she asked Lucy.
“I’m fine now that you’re here,” Lucy told her.
“No, you aren’t,” a man’s voice said.
A man with a black face stood aiming a shotgun directly at the federal agent’s head. “She’s with them,” he said. “Drop your weapon, Alexa. Sir, stay away from that gun. Ma’am, you keep that pistol where it is. Sir, bolt that door or the next person who comes through it will be Peanut Smoot.”
77
Serge Sarnov watched the FBI agent go into the building. She had said she should have the old man disarmed in short order, just needed a couple of minutes to reassure the people inside that they were safe, and then she would let Randall and him enter and take the Dockerys.
He checked his watch. The agent had been inside for thirty seconds.
The lights should be on in there, but that idiot twin had fixed that. He’d let Smoot kill the old couple and then they’d take the Dockerys to a warehouse that Smoot owned outside Charlotte. Max would make sure the killing was done to Keen’s forensic specifications and then they’d use two weapons to stage a fatal shoot-out between Massey and Agent Keen, and Peanut and his twin oxen.
One minute and twenty seconds. “What the hell is taking your sister so long?” Serge asked the Major.
“She knows what she’s doing,” the Major answered. “Relax and let her do her job.”
“We should go in,” Serge said.
“She’ll tell you when,” Major Keen said. She reached into the car and flipped the high beams on and off several times.
“Call her cell phone,” Max said. “Ask her.”
The Major sighed loudly, took her phone out of her pocket, and dialed. Serge heard the agent’s phone ringing inside the building. “What’s going on?” Major Keen said into her phone. As she listened, her mouth opened and her eyes widened.
“What?” Max asked.
“She’s gone wrong,” Serge said. “I guess now we can kill her as many times as we like.”
The Major held her phone out to Serge. “Massey wants to speak to you, Serge.”
Serge put the phone to his ear.
“Sarnov,” the voice said. “You have two minutes from now to withdraw or I will kill Alexa Keen.”
“Just a minute,” Serge said. “I’ll consult with the others.” He put his hand over the phone so Massey couldn’t hear him. There was no time to waste.
“Massey is inside the store.”
“How’d he manage it?” Randall said.
“It had to have been before Peanut arrived and set up on the place. Peanut,” Serge murmured, “the man in there killed your son.”
“Buck?” Peanut asked, confused.
“Click. Blew his brains out because your boy wouldn’t give you up.”
“Oh, my dear God,” Peanut said, genuinely shaken. “Killed my baby. .”
“Have your son there smash down that door, and you guys go in and kill everything in the place.”
“Just a minute,” Randall objected. “We should think this through.”
“There’s no time,” Serge argued. “That’s Winter Massey in there.” He looked at the Major.
“Do what you have to do,” she said, nodding.
Peanut went over to his son and gave him instructions.
“Maybe my guys should handle it. This Massey’s no slouch,” Max said.
Serge spoke in a low voice. “Let the Smoots storm the beach and test the sand for us. Tell your men around front they’re to go in as soon as the shooting starts. We wait until Peanut and his son go in and we flash-bang and we go in and finish this.”
Serge put the phone back to his ear. “Okay,” he said. “You win, Massey. We’re leaving.” He pointed his trigger finger at Peanut, who had taken up a position against the wall beside the kitchen door.
Letting out a howl, the Smoot twin ran up and shouldered the door. The sound of the wood frame splintering filled the night air as the door collapsed into the room. The twin raised his shotgun. There was an explosion that lit up the kitchen, and Curt’s head came apart, his corpse falling into the kitchen.
Peanut looked down at his dead son and screamed, “You’re dead, YOU-MOTHER-”
Three shotgun blasts sounded within the space of two seconds. The first slug punched a quarter-size hole in the wall between Peanut’s right shoulder and the door frame. The second round-double-aught buckshot-made a fist-size hole through Peanut’s chest between his nipples, and the third blew most of his left shoulder away. He died with two thirds of his final curse spoken.
Without hesitation, Max tossed a flash-bang grenade into the kitchen, waited until it went off, and sprinted into the kitchen with his MP5 before him, spraying the room from left to right.
“Kitchen’s clear!” he yelled.
Major Keen ran into the building with Serge behind her, gun out.
The kitchen was thick with swirling cordite. Serge saw a tactical shotgun lying on the floor just inside the den. The team that had broken down the front door rushed in from the store, their MP5s aimed at the bedroom door.
“Open up, or we’ll drill the walls, Massey!” Max Randall hollered.
Serge, standing
beside the Major, heard the Dodge truck out back roar to life. He whirled and ran to the back door, and fired at the truck.
“Stop them!” he screamed at the Smoot twin out front as he sprinted after Peanut’s Dodge, emptying his Walther.380 at its wide tail.
He heard the last living Smoot’s shotgun go off three times, followed immediately by a dull wet thud.
78
When Winter Massey told Alexa to drop her gun, what Winter saw in her eyes was the last thing he had expected-relief and excitement. “Massey?” Then she smiled, and said, “Thank God! I didn’t know how I was going to keep them alive by myself.”
“I said put the gun down,” Winter again ordered. “I know what you’re doing, Lex. How could you?”
“Massey,” she repeated. “I’m sorry I couldn’t level with you. The two of us have a chance, but you have to trust me. I’ll explain it later, but we only have a few seconds before they storm this place. If I put this gun down, you’ll be alone.”
“You set me up twice.” Winter’s voice was curt.
“I had no choice. I didn’t bring you in to get you hurt. I brought you in to do what I couldn’t do on my own and I knew you would. I’m sorry Randall came after you. I tried to help you at Click’s house. I couldn’t at Laughlin’s or the clinic. I was playing a man-in-the-middle defense-I knew they were listening to everything I said and probably seeing what I was doing. Winter, if you ever trusted me-if you ever believed in me-do it now.”
“How in hell can I trust you?” Winter said.
“Because I gave you Eleanor,” Alexa told him.
Winter felt like he had put his hand on a live wire. Those five words, spoken in hardly more than a whisper, were deafening.
The headlights of the sedan flickered angrily against the cotton curtains. The killers were growing impatient.
Because I gave you Eleanor. And although he had suspected it at the time, he hadn’t truly believed what it had cost Alexa, hadn’t accepted it as a sacrifice. Now he knew it was true and, for the first time, he knew his friend’s heart.
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