Bad Road to Nowhere

by Linda Ladd

  “I’m going to have you checked out.” Wilson looked over at him as he said it, and then put his eyes back on the road. “Can’t blame me, can you? Want to hear my take? You’ve proven that you can handle yourself. I like that. No stepping away from a fight. Always ready to put the enemy down. That’s an admirable trait in my book.”

  “You got enemies?”

  “Everybody’s got enemies. Even you, I suspect.”

  Novak didn’t react. He had expected Wilson would research him, right after he found out his name. Most of his past was classified and unavailable; some of it was attainable. Thus the warrior thing, he guessed. The questions would probably begin now, to see if Novak would lie about where he’d been and what he’d done.

  “So, tell me, Mr. Novak, what do you do for a living?”

  “In the military for a long time. Not much going on lately.”

  “What branch?”

  “Army, then Navy.”

  “So why’d you quit?”

  “I’m not good at taking orders. Not from anybody. Didn’t want to do it anymore. Don’t want to do it now, either.”

  Wilson nodded as if he understood. He kept driving, up higher and higher into the surrounding hills. What Novak assumed to be the Blue Ridge Mountains loomed all around them, smudging the horizon with blue humps. The area was beautiful, especially this time of year. The compound turned out to be a big place. Vast and wooded. Wilson drove past high granite cliffs, gray and craggy, jutting out above them among thousands of trees that glowed in the sunshine with vivid scarlet and gold and russet.

  When they reached the top of a ridge overlooking a wide, shallow valley, Novak got his first good look at the cliff house that Mariah had described. It had been built way up on the crest at the far end of the valley. The valley side of the house looked like it was made up of all windows, two floors high, maybe. The rising sun lit the whole place up. It looked like a brilliant bar of gold. Below the house, Novak could make out a wide stream directly underneath that golden glare. Wilson pulled up and stopped at a good overlook and turned off the motor. They sat there a moment, saying nothing, both gazing out over the panoramic vista. It was a gorgeous view, Novak would give him that.

  “We don’t take clients any farther than this road right here. Down there, in that valley in front of us? That’s off limits to everybody but a few men, that I handpick myself. Right here, any Hunt Club activity ends. No exceptions. All shooting and camping goes on in the hills behind us. Those woods back there, where we take the clients? It goes on for miles and miles.” He kept his attention locked on the big house across the way. “That’s my place up there, atop that cliff. See it shining? I don’t want any shooting going on up there or anywhere near it.”

  “How many acres you got out here?”

  “Thirty-five hundred. It took me several years to amass this much prime real estate. But I got lucky. And I had the cash to pay top dollar. It’s pretty remote, and lucky for me, most the folks around here like to build in closer to town.” He moved his gaze down to the wide-open pasture below them. “That’s no man’s land down there. Don’t forget it.”

  Novak said nothing. He wouldn’t forget it. He wouldn’t stay off it, either.

  “Got some barns and stables and other out buildings up there behind my house. We’ve got just about everything we need to self-sustain over there.”

  “Big place for one man.”

  Wilson shot him a quick look. Suspicious, maybe? Then he said, “I like wide-open spaces. Privacy. That’s why I bought out here. No neighbors to bother us.”

  After that, they sat there for a few minutes, not speaking, just looking out over the valley. It was a sight to see, all right. Forested hills, crisp cool air, and clear blue sky. No smog, no people, no traffic. Woods ringed the pastures below, the clear river rushing high and swift and bordering the far end. A hunter’s paradise. He watched the stream for a moment, wondering what river it was and how hard it was going to be to ford. That’s when he picked out a small figure on horseback, riding alongside the bank, on the far side of the river and at the base of Wilson’s towering gray limestone cliff. It was too far away to recognize the rider, but he was pretty sure it was a woman. Emma, maybe? Free to roam? Perhaps not a captive at all.

  “I see a rider down on the river. You keep a lot of horses?”

  “Where?”

  “Down there. Just beneath the house.”

  Wilson turned his attention to where Novak was pointing and squinted against the sun’s glare. He did not look happy. He grabbed up a pair of binoculars off the console and focused them on the faraway rider. “That’s my wife. She’s not supposed to be down there alone, damn it. She’s got a mind of her own. Doesn’t listen to a word I say.”

  Novak said nothing. Shrugged. Waited for Wilson to tell him more about his wife. He didn’t elaborate.

  Wilson started the Jeep, backed up, and took off again, gradually making their way down the other side of the hill, back through more heavy woods, pointing out hidden deer stands and splashing through creek beds and showing him duck blinds built around a nice-size lake made from several dammed-up creeks. Not long after they left the lake, Wilson suddenly skidded to a standstill in the middle of the road and quoted Novak a ridiculous sum of money, if he’d take the job.

  “I’m not worth that much, Wilson. And I’m not good at taking orders, just like I told you. I think for myself.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I like you. You’re the kind of man I’ve been looking for.”

  Okay, he had him now. The hook was set nice and deep. “I’ll think about it. Nice offer, but I don’t like to hang around anywhere very long.”

  “Okay, yeah, I can understand that. Think it over and let me know by tomorrow. Signing on doesn’t mean you’re committed here forever. Hope you’ll change your mind and give us a try. But don’t expect me to beg you.”

  After that interchange, they drove in silence some more. When they reached Novak’s truck, Wilson pulled up behind it and stopped. Novak got out, and Wilson took off again without another word. Not even a goodbye or glad to meet you. But Novak had what he wanted. He would be on Wilson’s compound tomorrow, a legit employee, and that’s how he could find out if the woman on the horse had been Emma Adamson.

  * * *

  Much to his annoyance, Mariah had not checked out. She was back and waiting for him at the Avalon. She hammered a fist on the adjoining door the minute he walked into his room. It was becoming a bad habit of hers. He unbolted it, and she rushed inside, all excited. She looked better than she had the night before. Cleaned up, silky black hair perfect again, makeup on, like nothing bad had happened to her.

  “So how’d it go? You get the job?”

  “If I want it.”

  “So was it Robin Adamson? Did you see him?”

  “I met Barrett Wilson. He’s the one who’s supposedly the boss and running things. He didn’t look much like the Robin Adamson’s photos that we Googled, but he could have gotten his face altered. And we never found any pictures of Wilson to compare him to, which is strange in itself. This guy looks younger. But he seems like the type who would do whatever it took to change his appearance if he wanted to disappear.”

  Mariah frowned, but then that expression quickly dissolved back into a smile. A slow, pleased one, just like Sarah used to do when Novak saw things her way. God, why couldn’t she just be Sarah? He turned away, not wanting to see his wife’s face on a woman who did the kinds of things that Mariah did.

  “I told him you left, Mariah. That you were on your way up to New York. So you’ve gotta stay away from me from now on. I’m walking a tightrope with that guy. Don’t screw it up.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep my head down.”

  Novak turned around and stared at her. Damn suspicious. “Okay? Did you really just agree to reason?”

  Mariah kept smiling. “Yes, because you’re right. About everything. You know how to do something like this. That’s why I brought you in. We shoul
d’ve split up a long time ago, just like you wanted to do. I got that loud and clear last night and have the bruises to prove it. You’re a lot better at this covert stuff than I am. You know what to do. I don’t. I can admit that now.” She paused, drew in a deep breath. “But I can still nose around here. Quietly. Talk to people. Research back editions of the newspaper at the library. See exactly when Adamson got up here. Where he came from, stuff like that. Police reports. Drivers’ licenses, all those kinds of things.”

  “Don’t mess with these guys. I can handle myself, but you can’t. I don’t want to worry about your getting hurt.”

  “As if you care if I get hurt.”

  Mariah just never stopped. At least she intended to keep her distance. Maybe. He could never be sure what she’d do, no matter what she told him. “Let me find out if Emma’s out there. I think she is. I saw a woman today on a horse. Does your friend know how to ride?”

  Mariah grinned. “She loves horses, had a white pony when we were little and two big bays that she used to ride in horse shows. She’s an expert equestrienne. I’ve seen her take jumps and win ribbons when we were in school. She’s fantastic on horseback.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna take that job and live out there. Get to know them. See what the other men say about Wilson and his wife. That’ll give me time to poke around the compound on my own time and find out what Wilson’s really doing up there. I think he’s got something criminal going on, and everything else is a front, to launder the money, maybe.”

  “Do you really think it might be her? Truly? Did it look like her?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I? I’ll find out for sure soon enough. And if she wants off that compound, I’ll get her out. You need to stay down here unless I call you and ask for specific help. Understand me?”

  For the first time, Mariah dropped her tough façade. She seemed to become a little emotional, choked up, maybe, vulnerable. Eyes a little moist. But that could be an act. He’d seen her fake tears before. “Thank you, Will. You just wouldn’t believe some of the things she told me that he’s done to her. You know, when she was young, and they first got married. He abused her in terrible ways, you know, emotionally and psychologically, mostly. But she wouldn’t leave him. She said she loved him back then, so much, looked up to him, you know, as her mentor. And then Ryan came along, and she could never leave her son behind, not in the hands of a man like that.”

  “That guy I met today? He’s arrogant. He seems the type who’d push women around. But if she’s there, I’ll find her. Don’t worry about it.”

  “When do you start?”

  “Tomorrow. Once I’m in up there, I’ll wait a couple of days, get a good feel for where everybody is and what’s going on before I go looking for her. Then we’ll come up with a plan to extract her and get her out of the States and back to Sydney.”

  “Good,” Mariah said. “That’s exactly what I want you to do. I’ll stay out of your way, I promise.”

  Yeah, sure, thought Novak. He didn’t trust her promises, not any more than he trusted anything else about her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Novak had been waiting inside his truck for over an hour before the Shoot Club finally opened for business the next day. He sat alone in the cab and drank a large Styrofoam cup of coffee he had picked up at a Shell filling station just outside Sikeston. It was strong and black, hot and freshly perked. The morning was cold and foggy, and the caffeine gave him the punch he needed to wake up and get on task, but he didn’t need much more drive. He felt pretty good about things as they were. He was exactly where he wanted to be. Inside Wilson’s organization, and it had taken fewer than forty-eight hours to infiltrate, thanks mainly to Wilson sending a bunch of yokels to run Novak out of town.

  On the whole, it had turned out all right so far. Better yet, Mariah was out of the picture. Cooperating. At least, she said she was. He wanted to believe her. Unfortunately for him, she was still around somewhere. Maybe, just maybe, she’d stay in the background long enough for him to do what was necessary and finish the job. She had been nothing but her usual pain in the ass. He should never have agreed to bring her along. He knew that now. He had known that then.

  Around seven-thirty, a fairly new model Ford 150 truck turned in off the highway. Dark blue and mud-spattered, it drove into the parking lot and stopped right beside Novak’s vehicle. His old friend. Sandy of the swinging chains. Great. The other guy got out of the driver’s seat. Today he’d shed his Hell’s Angels leather outfit for the workaday world, but the tough-guy attitude and severe grimace remained. He was dressed entirely in camouflage, like all the guys were yesterday, the green and brown mossy oak pattern for lurking about in the woods unseen. He had on a black ball cap that sported the words “Shoot Club” as well as its bull’s-eye logo, all emblazoned in red block letters. Maybe he just pretended he was a biker during off hours. To frighten the strippers at the Triangle and make them behave. Maybe he just liked to look like a tree when the sun came up. Novak got out, too, locked up, and waited for his new cohort to round the front of his truck.

  “So you took the job,” were Sandy’s first words to him. “Figured you would. Money’s good, right?”

  “You gonna tell me what I’m supposed to do out here? Wilson wasn’t exactly clear on my responsibilities.”

  Sandy smiled, briefly, and with zero humor. Not that he ever displayed any humor. They were never gonna be buddies. “Boss says he wants you to run the café and gun range first off. Get acclimated to the daily routine we do around here. Everybody wants that job, so consider yourself lucky.”

  “Why do they want it?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “How many of us are there?” A pertinent detail that Novak needed to know for Emma’s extraction, if Emma should turn up, and everything pointed to that at the moment.

  “Thirty, thirty-five, I reckon. Not counting all the girls.”

  “You head of security, or what?”

  “Yep. That means I tell everybody what to do and when to do it. Including you. So get used to it.”

  “Not sure that’s gonna happen.”

  “Oh, it’s gonna happen. If you want to work here.”

  “That all you do? Tell other guys what to do?”

  “I guard Mr. Wilson and his family when they go off the compound.”

  “That happen often?” Novak hoped it did.

  “Not really. Boss makes sure they have everything they need up at the house.”

  “What about when they’re inside the compound?”

  Sandy started up with some serious frowning. “Safe enough out there, I guess. You’re askin’ a hell of a lot of questions. Why do you care?”

  “That’s how I figure out the lay of the land on a new job. Ask pertinent questions. Learn fast and get it down. You didn’t want to know how things went down out here when you signed on?”

  Staring up at him, Sandy held his gaze for several moments. “Want some free advice, Novak? Don’t worry about stuff that’s none a your business. If you need to know something, I’ll be sure and let you know.”

  Novak said nothing else. He had been counting on Sandy to be chatty. An arrogant braggart, maybe, like his boss was. He looked like one, strutted around like one, wore idiotic chains like one, and Novak figured the guy would be boastful and want Novak to know how important he was. Not gonna happen. He’d have to find somebody else who did like to talk. Sooner or later, he would. There was always one talker, the dumb guy who annoyed everybody else. The men he’d run into thus far were not exactly brain-surgeon caliber or even halfway there. Less than that, even. Sandy wasn’t, either, but he’d shown a perceptive streak, so Novak would cool any questions aimed at him. They weren’t going to get along, no matter what happened. Novak was a threat to Sandy’s authority and pecking order. He wouldn’t like that.

  “Boss says you need to meet the regular customers. Get to know who they are and what they want and why they come up here. C’mon, let’s go inside and I’ll sho
w you how to set up things when you open up in the morning.”

  Opening up in the morning pretty much entailed unlocking the door and waiting for the cook and waitress to show up. Sandy showed Novak the showers and dressing rooms in the back of the Shoot Club building. He issued him a 3XL camouflage outfit. The whole works: shirt, utility pants, game bag, black cap with the same red logo, and mid-weight canvas jacket. Told him to put on the club’s uniform and come back up front, and then he’d show him how to work the cash register, rent out weapons, sell ammunition, and issue paper targets to the customers. Apparently, the customers got to choose their favored target. One pictured the head of a big buck with giant antlers; the other was the silhouette of a man. Novak had chosen the man the day before. The choice would say a lot about the guy selecting his prey. Novak would choose the human being, every time. Most of Wilson’s men probably would, too. Outside at the stations, Sandy showed Novak how to turn on the automatic target pulleys. That was unusual. It was a top-of-the-line target range. Usually the shooter had to walk out and place his target. Some of the stations had metal targets on hinges that clanged when you hit them. Mostly tasks that Novak already knew how to do. He’d spent more hours than he could count on gun ranges.

  Duty done, Sandy got in his truck and drove off, heading up a different road with a sign and elongated arrow that designated it as leading to the yet unseen Hunt Club. Novak stood behind the counter and picked out all the video cameras and where they were pointed, both inside and outside. A nice little setup behind the counter showed Novak eight screens with several video feeds with grainy shots of each gun station and the entrance road and the inside of the building. He had a feeling that Wilson’s entire compound was filled with security cameras, probably with game cameras out in the woods and every other kind of self-protection from would-be intruders. So why all the security? What was Wilson hiding up there in his acres of forested land? If it wasn’t his abducted wife and kid, it was something illegal. Maybe both.