Option to Kill (Nathan McBride 3)

by Andrew Peterson

  “Don’t worry about that. Pick a landmark beyond his position and use that for a visual reference. Let me know when to stop. When the dust clears, tell me where he is with a vector from my position. Due west will be twelve o’clock. Do you understand what I’m asking?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going silent.”

  His radio clicked again, and he couldn’t help but smile. Lauren amazed him — she’d make a fine operations officer someday. He hoped she’d get the distance right, or he’d end up running right into the guy’s lap.

  Nathan had always believed the best way to attack an enemy was to be unpredictable. Blindly following this dust cloud into his enemy’s territory fit the bill. He didn’t think Voda or his gunman would be expecting such an aggressive move.

  Lauren voice broke his thoughts. “I can’t tell exactly, but I think you should stop now.”

  Nathan clicked his radio.

  He chose a large clump of creosote and dropped down. He knew the row of houses was off to his left, but he wouldn’t be able to see them for several more seconds, until the dust moved through. At least the reverse was also true: if Voda had hidden himself in one of those houses, he hadn’t been able to see Nathan’s approach.

  Time seemed to stretch as the dust continued to drift.

  Through the thinnest parts of its nebulous form, he spotted the slab of H4 and knew he needed to go a little farther. He advanced another fifty feet and crouched on the northeast side of another creosote bush.

  Nathan focused straight ahead, looking for any kind of motion.

  “Okay, I can see him. He’s at your…two o’clock.”

  Nathan clicked his radio again and waited for the last of the dust to clear.

  An eerie silence fell over the landscape, touched only by the whisper of wind through the brush. Nathan remained motionless, focusing on the vector Lauren had supplied, but saw nothing.

  It became a waiting game, and he took the opportunity to reload his Remington.

  His ghillie suit pants still screened the lower half of his body, but his upper half held sharp lines. Although his 5.11 shirt was tan, it didn’t offer more than color in terms of camouflage. As long as he remained frozen, he felt he wouldn’t be seen. Slowly turning his head, he looked toward H3. Partially obscured by the brush, the black opening of its rear door loomed large. Voda could be in there, or in H2, or H1. Lauren hadn’t reporting seeing Voda, but then again, he hadn’t asked about him. But Nathan felt confident Lauren would relay any change down here, especially seeing Voda.

  Knowing it involved some risk, Nathan needed to force things. In slow motion, he reached down and picked up a grapefruit-size rock. Keeping his arm as low as possible, he tossed it in an underhanded motion. The rock arced through the air and hit the middle of a creosote bush thirty feet distant — his intended target. Had the wind been blowing harder, the bush’s movement wouldn’t have been detectible, but its sudden shuddering made it stand out clearly from the other plants.

  At first, nothing happened, but a few seconds later, Nathan saw something and slowly adjusted his position to the right for a better look.

  There! Movement at his one o’clock position. Lauren had nailed the vector with near precision. The man was standing in a slight crouch, probably because his wounded leg prevented him from squatting. Nathan could see only a small portion of his opponent’s upper body through the underbrush, but it was enough. It could be Voda, but Nathan gave it low odds. Voda would likely be sheltered inside one of the houses.

  He tucked the SIG into his waist and in slow motion unslung his Remington, shouldered it, and placed crosshairs on the side of the man’s chest. He saw it wasn’t Voda. For a brief instant, he considered shooting lower, through the man’s pelvis, but this wasn’t the same situation as he’d faced at the wrecked SUV. This man was armed and in the fight.

  He pulled the trigger.

  The rifle’s concussion hammered the surrounding area like a thunderclap, raising a new dust cloud. He needed to relocate. Fast.

  He looked left, toward H3’s rear door, and saw a chilling sight.

  Standing in the opening of the H3’s rear door, Voda had a scoped handgun lined up on him.

  Nathan dived to his right.

  Voda’s gun boomed.

  Nathan felt as though he’d been hit with a sledgehammer.

  He fell to his hands and knees and tried to breathe.

  When he sucked in a lungful of air, he coughed in a violent spasm and tasted blood.

  There was something he had to do before he lost consciousness.

  He unclipped the radio from his belt and yanked the wires free.

  Falling to his side, he tossed it as far as he could.

  He felt it coming, the sickening wave of oncoming darkness.

  No. It can’t end like this.

  Lauren….

  Chapter 31

  Nathan felt something jar his leg. It annoyed him. He wanted to sleep. He opened his eyes and tried to focus. The world was gray.

  “Welcome back, my gallant friend.”

  Where was he? A blurry image of a hand holding something in front of his face coalesced. Was it a Ziploc bag? He felt a hard surface beneath him, definitely not sand or dirt. His chest felt heavy and sore. What had happened? He’d been shot….

  “This bag doesn’t have any alexandrites in it. You can’t begin to understand my disappointment, but I’ll make it abundantly clear soon enough.”

  “Voda…”

  “At your service.”

  Nathan coughed, and a million needles stabbed his rig cage. How long…Where was he? He focused on Voda. Dressed in slacks and a nice shirt, the man almost looked respectable.

  “I have good news and bad news,” Voda said. “The good news is that you’re alive. The bad news is that you’re alive.”

  Nathan looked down at his bare chest and spit out a mouthful of blood.

  “That’s a nasty bruise you’ve got there. Fortunately, I was using hollow points. A .44 Magnum packs quite a punch, wouldn’t you agree? Your vest saved your life. You have some intriguing scars on your body. I can see you’re no stranger to pain.”

  Nathan remained silent.

  “You’ve done well to this point. You’ve managed to eliminate all of my men. Congratulations.”

  Nathan saw he was inside the living room of one of the houses. The gray he’d seen upon waking was the ceiling’s unpainted drywall. His left wrist was handcuffed to a metal framing anchor sticking out of the slab. Half the manacle encircled his wrist, the other half was secured to the anchor through a hole designed for a bolt or heavy lag screw.

  He didn’t know which house he was in, but guessed it was either H2 or H3. He had a vague recollection of being dragged, but couldn’t recall more that. Since Voda had a bad leg and Nathan weighed close to 230 pounds, he’d probably been dragged into H3, the closest house. He was fairly certain Voda had bashed him on the head at some point. He felt concussion symptoms.

  Nathan looked at his manacled hand again.

  “I see you’ve noticed the handcuffs. I pride myself on having the largest collection of antique handcuffs in the world.” Voda smiled. “The wonders of eBay….I use these for special occasions, but I’m afraid they weren’t designed with comfort in mind.”

  Nathan remained silent, realizing that anything he said would be pointless.

  “You have caused me a great deal of trouble, but you can redeem yourself by telling me where my alexandrites are. I’m not beyond showing you some mercy. Although I promised you a slow death, I’m willing to reconsider…if you cooperate.”

  Voda backed up a few steps and picked up a four-foot length of broken two-by-four. It had a menacingly sharp end. He test-swung it a few times in the air.

  “Why don’t I give you a few minutes to think about things while I go find your sister? She couldn’t have gotten far with all those broken toes.” Voda turned to leave, then stopped. “She’s remarkably tough, I’ll give her that. She he
ld out for hours before giving you up. A truly heroic stand.”

  Nathan spat more blood. “There’s something I’d like to ask you, Voda.”

  “Oh, by all means.”

  “How’s the leg?”

  Voda’s expression went dark, then a smile formed. He angled his head over his shoulder. “If you hear any screaming down the block, try to ignore it, okay?”

  “How could you do it?”

  He turned back. “Do what?”

  “Rape and murder those little girls.”

  “I’m afraid you have me all wrong.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Believe what you want.”

  “Even if what you say is true, you’re just as guilty as your perverted men.”

  “I’d love to pursue this philosophical debate with you, but it will have to wait. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time together. When I return, I’ll have your sister with me. Unless you tell me where my alexandrites are, I’m going to beat her to death while you watch. I have no doubt you’re tough as nails, but watching someone else pay for your silence may be less easy to withstand.” Voda shrugged. “If you still won’t talk, I’ll start beating you. You’ll soon understand you’re not as tough as you think.”

  “Give it your best shot, shit bird.”

  Voda smiled again. “Oh, before I go, there’s something I owe you from our first encounter.”

  Moving with more speed than Nathan thought possible, Voda stepped forward and swung the two-by-four with both hands — like a lumberjack splitting a log.

  Nathan’s right shin took the impact. Shit!

  He felt his bones snap.

  Nathan clenched his teeth but didn’t scream — he wouldn’t give Voda the satisfaction.

  “How’s the leg?” Voda mocked. He tossed the piece of lumber against the wall out of Nathan’s reach, pulled his scoped Magnum from his waist, and limped out the door.

  With as much strength as he could muster, Nathan yelled, “Jin, Voda’s coming!”

  Fighting the searing agony in his shin, Nathan looked for a way to free himself from the framing anchor. Although the manacle around his wrist was tight, he still tried to pull free, but to no avail. The antique handcuffs were crude but thoroughly effective. The chain connecting the cuffs looked stronger than those of a modern pair, its links both bigger and thicker. Even if he broke his arm in the process, he’d never be able to get enough leverage to snap the chain connecting the cuffs.

  His Predator knife was gone. He might’ve been able to use it to whittle away at the metal, but even if it worked, it would take too much time.

  He looked around — too quickly. His world spun and a surge of nausea took him. Fifteen feet away, he saw his ballistic vest and ghillie suit pants. He hadn’t realized he was barefoot until now. His boots and socks sat next to the vest. Voda was going to smash his toes, like he had with Marchand and Jin, or worse. Shit!

  He clenched his teeth and tried to think. Even if Jin managed to ambush Voda, she’d never be able to defeat him in hand-to-hand combat, not in her present condition. Maybe she’d relocated to a house farther away, but with her toes all busted up, she couldn’t have gotten far. Her window of opportunity to escape had been when Voda dragged him into this house. If she’d managed to limp her way into the brush, she’d be able to hide and make her way up to Lauren’s position. The ghillie suit offered her good camouflage, and moving slowly because of her toes became an advantage.

  If Voda returned without Jin, Nathan had his victory. He’d buy time for her and Lauren by holding out against Voda’s torture for as long as possible. It was nothing he hadn’t done before. At least he could cling to the small consolation of denying the bastard his treasure.

  He looked around again, but Voda had clearly emptied Nathan’s immediate area. There was nothing on the concrete he could reach, even if he laid himself flat and used his good leg. In frustration, he yanked his wrist against the handcuff and was rewarded with a stab of pain. He jerked his arm again — much harder — and felt his shoulder strain in the socket. He’d never be able to pull his wrist through this damned manacle.

  What he heard next took him by surprise: the staccato clatter of an AK-47 burst.

  The weapon had a distinct sound, much different from that of the MP5s that Voda’s men carried. The burst had been short and controlled and had come from the far end of town. He was positive it hadn’t originated from H5, where’d left Jin — more like H9 or H10. Had the man he’d left alive in the SUV rejoined the fight? Nathan thought that extremely unlikely. The guy had two crushed arms — there was no way he’d be able to hold an AK, let alone shoot it. Voda had said Nathan had killed all his men. Could a fourth man have been inside the SUV and crawled out a window before Nathan got there? No way. He’d arrived at the Escalade seconds after it had stopped rolling. There’d been only three men inside.

  Unless Voda had another gunman out there, it must’ve been Jin who’d fired the AK. If so, she hadn’t bugged out after all. As he pondered the possibility, Nathan felt conflicting surges of relief and concern. As much as he hated knowing Jin was engaging Voda, it gave him some hope.

  Voda’s handgun boomed, followed by another burst of AK fire.

  What was happening out there? Nathan felt frustration and rage begin to build. He inwardly cursed for getting himself shot. How could he have been so careless and sloppy? He should’ve anticipated Voda’s appearance. Should’ve known Voda would send his gunman into the desert as sacrificial bait.

  Voda’s Magnum rumbled again. Good — he wouldn’t have needed to fire a second time if he’d nailed Jin with the first round. A few seconds later, he heard more AK fire.

  Shit! He was helpless in here while his sister fought his battle. In an act of pure rage, he yanked against the handcuff again. Pain shot through his arm like electricity. He growled and pulled harder.

  “Nathan, are you in there?”

  Nathan froze, his heart sinking. No, it couldn’t be. What was she doing here?

  “Lauren!”

  She appeared from the direction of the rear door, still wearing the ghillie suit.

  Crying, she ran up to him and hugged him. “I’m really scared,” she said, still winded from her down-mountain sprint. She cringed at the expression on his face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know what to do!”

  Her knee landed on his shin, and he cried out.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Voda broke my leg.”

  She put her hand to her mouth, stunned.

  “Where’s your mom?” Nathan asked urgently.

  “I don’t know!”

  “Did you trigger the helicopter’s ELT?”

  “Oh, no, I forgot!”

  “You forgot! What do you mean, you forgot?”

  She cried harder. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  He hugged her with his free arm. “It’s okay, Lauren, don’t worry about it. You have to get out of here and go trigger the ELT like I showed you.”

  But Lauren showed no signs of leaving him. “I can help you.”

  “Voda could be back any minute. Lauren, coming down here was a very brave thing to do, but you have to leave. I’m handcuffed to this bracket, and Voda has the key. There’s nothing you can do for me.”

  Outside, the Magnum boomed again.

  The sound made Lauren flinch with fear.

  For his part, Nathan felt a small measure of relief because the handgun report sounded farther away. He toyed with the idea of asking Lauren to go find a gun, but it was too risky. Voda might see her. The last thing he wanted was Lauren back in the hands of a proven child-murderer.

  “Can’t you break the handcuffs? Aren’t you, like, super strong?”

  “No, I can’t break — ” He stopped midsentence.

  And in that moment, Nathan knew what he had to do.

  “Okay, Lauren, you can stay. See that piece of wood leaning against the wall over there?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Go get it
. Hurry.”

  She ran over and back.

  “I need a piece of broken glass. Go look under one of the windows.”

  Lauren returned a few seconds later. “Is this okay?”

  He took it from her. It was about an inch long. “Perfect. Remember when you became the tough girl inside your stepdad’s warehouse?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I need you to be the tough girl again.” Nathan used the shard of glass to slice into his wrist below the cuff. The cut wasn’t deep enough to open any arteries, but it would provide a good blood flow for a few minutes.

  “What are you doing! Trying to kill yourself?”

  “No, the blood will act as a lubricant.”

  “A lubricant for what?”

  “I’m going to break my hand, but I need your help.”

  “Break your hand? No way! Are you serious?”

  “After I get this piece of wood in place, I’ll need you to jump on top of it.”

  “That’s crazy! Won’t it hurt?”

  “No, it won’t hurt that bad.” He pointed. “I need one of those socks.”

  Nathan considered using the two-by-four like a club and smashing his own hand, but the handcuff employed a ratchet locking mechanism, and if he missed his hand and hit the handcuff, the ratchet would lock down so tightly he’d never get his hand out, short of amputating it. He needed to act quickly and not give Lauren a lot of time to think.

  Nathan placed his manacled wrist on the concrete next to the framing anchor and shivered. This was going to be bad. He had no illusions about it. The damage might even be irreparable, but he had no choice. The trick, however, was convincing Lauren to do the dirty work.

  With his hand facing sideways in a karate-chop position, he tucked his thumb into his palm and placed the end of the board directly on top. He used his left foot to anchor the other end of the lumber. The downward force from Lauren’s weight should dislocate his thumb, and the ensuing momentum should shear the carpal bones apart — a very crappy deal.

  “Okay, Lauren. I need you to stand next to this board, jump up in the air, and land on top of it. You have to drive your feet down at the same time you land, like you’re jumping on a trampoline.”