“How did you get in here?” Ed asked Winter.
“The same way you’re all going out,” he said.
“You can get us all out past them?” Alexa asked.
“If we move fast,” Winter said. “I came in by the root cellar. I lucked into the trapdoor while I was trying to find a way under the building. The last two ladder steps are rotted off and there’s a foot of standing water down there.”
“I’d plum forgot about that. Hadn’t been down there in years,” Ed said. “Thought I’d sealed it off good.”
Winter looked at Alexa. “Lucy, you and Elijah and this nice couple need to go with Special Agent Keen and stay with her. I’m going to keep them busy. You take everybody to the root cellar through the bedroom closet, and wait at the outside door for me, or the sound of them inside the store.” He took the light off the shotgun and handed it to her. “Don’t use this until you’re in the closet. I’ll do what I can. The truck out back may be your best bet.”
“I reckon I’ll stay here and give you a hand,” Ed said.
The baby started crying and Lucy hugged him tightly to her. “It’s all right, Elijah,” she crooned.
“Sir, Alexa here and these people need you worse. I’ll be right behind you and I’ll be moving fast.”
That was when the phone in Alexa’s pocket rang. After Winter took the phone to talk to Serge, he motioned for Alexa to take the others out.
Seconds later, when the twin shouldered the door in, Winter was kneeling just inside the den, using the common wall and the heavy stove for protective cover while aiming the shotgun at the kitchen door. He pointed at the giant’s head and squeezed the trigger.
Winter readied for a second shot. When he heard Peanut’s booming voice, Winter aimed at the wall just left of the door and pulled the trigger once, quickly moved the barrel farther to the left, and fired again. . and quickly again.
79
As soon as he had fired the last shotgun round, Winter dropped the weapon and ran for the bedroom. When the flash-bang went off, he was locking the bedroom door. Hastily he shoved a chair under the knob and, slamming the closet door behind him, scrambled down into the root cellar.
When the heavy footsteps from above echoed down into the cellar, Winter had joined the others, huddled like refuges, at the door leading outside.
Silently, with Alexa watching their backs, they followed Winter to the corner, then ran to Smoot’s Dodge. Winter checked for the keys, and got everybody in through the jump door behind the driver’s door, filling the rear seat. Lucy and her son sat in the middle between the Utzes. Alexa scrambled into the cab’s passenger seat. Without closing the door, Winter slid in, cranked the engine and throttled the Hemi. The truck roared like a wounded beast, as its tires spun in the wet grass and fishtailed.
“Get down!” he yelled. He’d said the same words to Click Smoot just before he was killed for not listening.
The pistol shots somebody fired at the escaping truck were no surprise, but the remaining twin, centered between Alexa’s sedan and the second Tahoe, was. The twin stood still and aimed his shotgun at the truck hurtling toward him.
Winter ducked.
The twin fired three quick shots before the truck punted him high into the air.
Winter sat up and spun the truck onto the gravel road. The shotgun had not just blown a hole the size of a saucer in the windshield, but had also hit the grille. Winter couldn’t smell the coolant that was probably streaming out of the radiator, but he knew he’d be lucky to make it a mile before the Hemi seized. If he was going to save his passengers, he’d have to move fast.
“Everybody okay?” he asked. “I’m going to get you down the road as far as I can. Ed, you know the layout of the woods, the roads?”
“Sure do.”
“There’s a roadblock up at Clark Road. I parked an SUV on the land just north of it on the access road about a hundred yards in-keys in the ignition. Ed, you’ll lead everybody there. I’ll hold them back as long as I can.”
“Winter, Antonia has six or seven of her people at the roadblock. You’ll never get through. She’ll have radioed ahead-they’ll be waiting.”
“I’m going to stop, and I want everybody out and in the woods and hidden when the Tahoe comes after me. Soon as it passes, you go fast as you can for the SUV. Just around the next curve. Get ready.”
Winter turned the bend-and found himself faced with something he hadn’t expected. The headlights of two vehicles in the road ahead blinked on, blinding him and forming a rolling roadblock coming straight at the Dodge, shoulder to shoulder.
“Alexa, as soon as I stop moving, move.”
Winter slammed the brakes. The truck slid sideways, blocking the road. The approaching vehicles stopped thirty feet short, their brights blasting the Dodge. He could see that the two vehicles were full of men. He knew he would never walk away from this one, but maybe if he could do enough damage, the others would have a chance.
“Run!” Winter hollered as he jumped out, aiming his SIG at the cars.
“Drop your weapon!” an amplified male voice ordered.
Winter turned his gun on the car on the left.
“No!” Alexa gripped his shoulder. “Massey, you’ve trusted me. Trust me again. Drop your gun right now, and put your hands up.”
Doors opened, but Winter’s vision was totally impaired by the headlights.
Without hesitation, he opened his hand and released his weapon.
80
Major Antonia Keen was on her phone to Clayton Able as she ran toward Randall’s SUV.
“Get them in here now, Clayton!” she shouted into the receiver. “Tell them to block the damn road. Tell them to use extreme prejudice. You got me?” She slammed the phone shut.
Randall drove. Serge was in the passenger seat; Antonia and one of Max’s men were in the second seat. The other man was on the Tahoe’s roof, lying on the luggage rack, aiming his MP5 at the road ahead.
“Your sister disappointed me, Major,” Serge said. “I’ll have to insist we deal with her. If she survives the next minute or so.”
“If she turned-and I do not believe it for a second-I’ll frigging shoot her myself,” Major Keen hissed. “If Massey didn’t kill her and leave her behind, he has her at gunpoint. Did you see her in the truck?”
“No,” Sarnov said. “I glimpsed some heads before they all ducked.”
“Let’s wait and see. I know her better than you do. Massey was in there when she went in and he knew she set him up. He killed her, I’m sure of it.”
“They escaped,” Serge said. “She didn’t yell, she didn’t fight.”
“She didn’t turn, damn it! If she’s in that truck, she’s playing along with him. She can manipulate him.”
“You can’t get between her and those men coming in,” Randall said. “That Dodge and anything inside it is toast.”
When Max made a curve, Serge saw men illuminated by bright headlights aiming automatic weapons and shotguns at the black truck.
Max slid the SUV to a stop, and everybody jumped out. The man on the roof stood up, his gun ready.
The men who’d been aiming at the truck turned toward the Tahoe.
A voice from the men surrounding the truck yelled out, “Put your guns down!”
“You idiot!” Major Keen hollered. “Hold your fire, soldier! I’m Major Keen!”
“So you say. I said put your weapons down!”
“Okay, don’t freak out,” Max called. “We’ll comply.”
Serge shrugged. He set his gun gently on the hood of the SUV. Max and the man next to him put their weapons on the ground. After a moment, the man on the Tahoe’s roof squatted to place his gun on the roof by his feet. One of the men who had been firing at the Dodge stepped forward. He gathered up the weapons and stacked them in the road in front of the SUV.
The apparent team leader, a white-haired man in a black jumpsuit, came onto the road from the trees. His men kept their aimed shotguns at the people fro
m the SUV.
“What’s the matter with you people?” Antonia snapped. “What is your name, soldier?”
Alexa Keen came around the Dodge, striding toward her sister.
“Antonia,” she said, “allow me to introduce to you Special FBI Agent in Charge Kelly Crisp. The others are members of the FBI’s Immediate Response Team. I’m placing all of you under arrest for kidnapping, murder, conspiracy to kidnap, conspiracy to commit murder, crossing state lines to commit those crimes, and. . well, I’ll make sure you get a comprehensive list of the charges at FBI HQ. Agent Crisp will read you your rights.”
Serge was being cuffed when he saw that one of the men who’d been firing at the Dodge was wearing a camouflage coat and had his face blackened. When the man caught Serge staring at him, he smiled. Massey!
Antonia Keen said nothing, standing stiffly, glaring at her sister.
Agent Crisp said, “If you’re wondering about the people who were at the roadblock, they’re all in custody. Clayton Able and his crew are being taken into custody about now.”
As Alexa snapped cuffs on her sister’s wrists, Antonia said, “You better help me out. I have you on tape.”
“And I have you on tape, too, Major,” Alexa replied. “I’ve been recording every discussion we’ve had for months.”
“You’re my sister.”
A tear rolled down Alexa’s cheek. “I wish to God I wasn’t.”
“I can explain all of this,” Antonia said, raising her voice. “My authority supercedes yours, Agents. This is a matter of national security. My men and I are part of a joint military and Department of Homeland Security operation.”
“I’m sure you can explain how all of this murder and mayhem was perfectly justifiable,” Agent Crisp answered sarcastically. “But we’ll just hold you temporarily at HQ until it’s all straightened out, okay, Major?”
81
Winter was more than a little surprised when he arrived back at the roadblock on Clark Road and found his wife waiting there for him, drinking hot coffee and joking with highway patrolmen and firefighters. Judge Fondren was also there, and his grandson Elijah in his arms. EMS personnel were examining Lucy, but her worst damage wasn’t physical.
“Hey, stranger,” Sean said as Winter climbed out of the FBI car.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked her.
“Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know. At home?”
“Jeez, Massey.” She looked him over, set her styrene coffee cup on the hood of the highway patrol cruiser behind her, and embraced him. “You kept your word.”
“My word?”
“You didn’t get yourself shot up or beat up too badly. I’ll have to see what’s under the minstrel mask later.”
“I’m at a total loss. How did you get here?”
“Well, you know how Hank was supposed to go see Judge Fondren and deliver your message?”
“Yes.”
“Well, he wanted to. He really did, but he wasn’t up to it.”
“So you went instead.”
“Got it in one, mister.”
Winter felt anger rising in him. “Sean, didn’t it occur to you that I called Hank because going to Fondren might be dangerous? It was quite possible that he was being watched over by some nasty people. Hank has experience, and nobody looking at a man on crutches would think he was a messenger.”
“And I don’t? Get real, Massey. As it turned out, the judge was being watched, but by Agent Crisp, Alexa’s partner. He had a dozen armed men along with him. I’m sure you met him. He explained to me that Alexa wasn’t trying to hurt you. It still doesn’t begin to excuse her. She could have gotten you killed.”
“I’m not real happy about it myself,” Winter said truthfully.
A large helicopter appeared from the north and circled until a highway patrolman popped a flare in a hollow space between the highway patrol cruisers, fire trucks, and EMS ambulances clustered on the shoulders of Clark Road. The copter touched down thirty yards from where Winter was standing, then cut back its power, leaving its blades turning.
Alexa and Kelly Crisp were supervising the loading of their prisoners into a long van staffed by members of the U.S. Marshals Service. Winter didn’t know the four deputy marshals, so they probably weren’t from the region.
FBI agents and highway patrolmen were going in to secure the store and the Smoot warehouse crime scenes. Evidence technicians would process them over the coming hours.
Ed and Edna Utz were going to be taken to Charlotte, where they would be guests of the federal government at the Westin Hotel until their store had been put right and the techs released it.
While Winter and Sean were talking, Judge Fondren, Lucy, and Elijah were escorted to the waiting helicopter. The judge turned and strode over to Winter and Sean. “Mr. Massey,” he said, shaking his hand. “I wanted to thank you for saving Lucy and Elijah. I hope you will allow us to show our gratitude properly at a later date.”
“I’ve been amply rewarded, sir.”
“Well, at least I hope you and your lovely wife will join us for dinner sometime so Lucy can thank you properly. At the moment, my daughter is unable to adequately convey her feelings on the matter. You should know that you and Alexa have saved my life along with theirs. I don’t think I could have faced life without them. And from what I am told, I wouldn’t have lived out the day if I’d set Colonel Bryce free.” He smiled and winked at Sean. Then he turned, trotted to the helicopter, and climbed in.
Alexa stood with Winter and Sean as the chopper built rotor speed. Lucy’s face appeared in a window. As they watched, she held her son up. Taking his little hand in hers, she waved at the trio.
“You are going to explain all of this to me, right?” Winter asked Alexa.
“Sure,” she replied. “We’ve got a lot of report writing to do. Debriefing. Official explaining to construct.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m too tuckered to talk.”
Winter looked at his wife, who was now leaning against the cruiser with her coffee cup back in her hand.
“You going to be all right?” Winter asked Alexa. He was referring to the fact that Alexa had arrested her own sister.
She knew what he was talking about. “My heart’s been broken before.”
He smiled at her, put his hand under her chin, and kissed her forehead.
“Massey, I put you in harm’s way without telling you the truth. I had to do it the way I did it, to save the Dockerys. You were the only person who could do it. Antonia and the others had to believe I was on their side.”
“I forgive you.”
“I don’t,” Sean said, still fuming. “It’s a miracle you didn’t get him killed. I thought you cared about him.”
“Sean, I wouldn’t forgive me either.”
“Why was everybody working so hard to put my husband in front of a bullet?”
“Sean,” Winter said. “It worked out.” He turned back to Alexa. “But you could have trusted me with the truth, Lex.”
“I knew the more the odds were against you, the more likely you were to succeed.”
Sean didn’t smile.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Winter said, yawning.
He embraced Alexa. When he turned back to Sean, he noticed that she responded to Alexa’s good-bye with an almost imperceptible nod.
“You ready to go home?” he asked his wife.
Sean nodded.
“You shouldn’t be mad at Alexa,” Winter told her, smiling.
“What makes you think I’m mad?”
82
On Monday morning at eight A.M. sharp, Ross Laughlin, who had arrived an hour earlier on his law firm’s jet after spending two days in Miami with a senator to build an alibi, took a seat at the defense table in a federal courtroom. He opened his briefcase to retrieve his crocodile notebook and his shiny amber pen, and pulled the shirt cuffs out so his cuff links were visible. He was going to look his best when he appeared befo
re the mob of press gathered on the courthouse steps expecting to announce Colonel Hunter Bryce’s conviction.
The U.S. marshals escorted a stern-faced Colonel Hunter Bryce to the table and removed his handcuffs. Before he sat down, the colonel straightened his tie and tugged at the hem of his blazer. Laughlin had to admit that he wished his own suits fit him like Bryce’s fit their owner, but you can’t buy a body like that.
In a low voice Bryce asked, “How does everything look?”
Ross opened his notebook, and on the first sheet he had printed, Free at last, free at last.
“How long will it take to do the paperwork?” Bryce asked.
“An hour, if you get someone from the clerk’s office who’s literate. The press will be going apeshit. You’ll have to avoid making any statements.”
“I’m great on TV.”
“Gloating would be ill advised, Colonel. There’ll be a shit storm when Fondren turns you loose. The media is discussing whether you’ll get life or the needle.”
“I was messing with you, Ross. Loosen up. Where’s Randall going to be?”
“I haven’t spoken to him. I assume he’s been busy cleaning things up.”
Colonel Bryce turned to look at the faces in the seats behind the defense table. Aside from the journalists who had been covering the trial, he didn’t see anyone he recognized.
Just as he was about to turn back, two women entered the courtroom. “Oh, man,” Bryce said to Laughlin. “Looks like somebody’s babe’s been in a car wreck.”
Ross Laughlin snapped the cap off of his pen, then turned to look at the woman Bryce was referring to. She was pretty despite the bruises and lacerations. Something about her seemed familiar, but Ross couldn’t quite place her. The attractive woman with her was dressed in a gray suit and carried a leather handbag.
He assumed the second woman was an attorney who had come to see him lose one. Like a lot of people, she was in for a surprise. He glanced at the prosecutor, a self-assured ass.
“Mr. Laughlin?” the woman in the suit said.
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