by Theo Cage
“Would your friend be a truck driver?” asked Sumner.
Grace smiled. The traffic had started to inch along. She put the Corvette into gear. “I'll be keeping an eye on you. You better take good care of her,” she said.
“You can come and check me out anytime you want,” said Sumner. And she pulled away.
Chapter 81
Casey’s Mill Lodge, Indiana
BRITT WOKE WITH A START. Men were at her door, smashing the heavy wood with sledgehammers. She could see three or four of them in dark clothes and balaclavas, working the door with military precision. Then she sat up and rubbed her eyes. The sounds dissipated. It was only a bad dream; the door looking as solid and perfect as it had when she first entered the room.
She got up, feeling a chill. The sun was setting and the room had grown dark.
She automatically checked the phone. No flashing light and no message. But she didn't really expect one anyway. That wasn't Rice's way of doing things. She still had the pay-as-you-go phone she bought in Bismarck, but turned it off as a precaution. Rice/Ray had told her to be careful. Phones could be tracked. And even though she couldn't see how the Feds could trace a burner, she stayed cautious. But now the temptation was too strong. Rice was late and she was worried and anxious. She had to call him.
She walked over to the windows looking out onto the plain; the sun just setting. She hadn't turned on any lights yet so her eyes easily adjusted to the view. A line of evergreen hedges circled the building, and at the edge she detected something - a movement. She stepped back from the glass and into the shadows. A person dressed in black was half-wedged into a wall of shrubbery.
Then she saw a second shape further down the path, away from the lighting, arched back into the foliage. He was holding a rifle of some sort. She could see a short barrel moving back and forth in the shadows.
Britt crept across the living room and checked the door. Locked and latched. As if that would stop a team of mercenaries. Were these the same men who had taken her into custody? Somehow they had followed her despite the subterfuge. But it had to be more than that. They were after Rice. They were setting a trap for him, Britt as the honey pot.
What if she called the local police? Rice had never suggested that as an idea. Maybe just having a police presence would scare them away.
She called the Front Desk using their land line and asked to be connected with the local police. The woman on the other end sounded concerned.
“Is there something we can help you with?” she asked.
“No, thank you. I just need to speak to the police.” The phone rang twice.
“Corydon Police.”
“I'm at The Casey’s Mill Lodge. And there is a man with a gun here. At least one, maybe more.”
“Where are you?”
“I'm looking down at the back field from the second floor. It looks like an automatic weapon, but I'm not an expert.”
“Ma’am, could the person you are watching be a hunter? Locals do a lot of deer hunting in the forest to the west?”
“He's not a hunter. He's dressed like a ninja warrior and carrying a machine gun. And if you don't get here quick, I’m afraid someone is going to die.”
Chapter 82
Casey’s Mill Lodge, Indiana
STANDING BACK IN THE DARK, Britt shuffled through her purse till she found her cell phone. When she pressed the ON button, the phone lit up like a Christmas tree, causing her to cover the phone with her hand and step back further into the corner. She lifted her hand off the front carefully and pressed the number one speed dial. She listened to the ringing of the phone at the other end.
Rice would have his phone on mute and maybe it would take a while for him to notice the call, but after ten rings she gave up.
She crept up to the edge of the window and looked out. She could no longer make out any human shapes. She had probably imagined them; lingering bits of her nightmare still playing back in her head. Then she saw the reflection of blue and red flashing lights on the far hotel wall. A police car had arrived already, an officer not far from the B&B probably alerted to the call.
She heard a car door slam and looked out across the yard. There was a long shadow approaching the rear of the building, a flashlight beam darting back and forth. Britt saw a man turn the corner. He looked like he was alone. She caught her breath. Someone wasn't taking this seriously. She couldn't imagine any police officer responding to a report of an armed stranger without waiting for backup.
Then the cop hesitated, flinched slightly, and collapsed onto the grass and rolled onto his stomach. A man in black ran up to the police officer and aimed a barrel at his head. Britt saw a short bright flash, and then another. No sound. The cop stopped moving. She had just witnessed the murder of a police officer. She shuddered. Wouldn't there be others soon? More police responding to the call? Or maybe not. It was a small rural division. The dispatcher seemed convinced she had seen a hunter returning from his blinds for the day. He might have just thought of this as a nuisance call.
Then Britt heard the door handle jiggle and the latch click.
They had found her.
Chapter 83
Indianapolis, Indiana
SUMNER WAS BACK IN THE YUKON, cruise control set at 58. The sky was heavy with rain, but the FBI Agent was feeling unusually optimistic. Addie, dressed in jeans and a blood-red leather jacket, was sitting across from him, her eyes cycling from the interstate ahead of them, to the chrome side mirror, and then back to the highway. Old habits were hard to break.
“Relax. No one's following us,” said Sumner.
She shook her head. “How many times have I heard that before?”
“If you're so good at detecting tails, then you would have seen me.”
Addie held out her hand and checked off the places with her fingers. “Seattle. Ellensburg. Yakima. Spokane. Ruddy Gulch …”
Sumner's jaw slid back and forth and then clamped down. A nervous tic of his. He may be the new Sumner now, but he would still have to deal with errors made in the past. History is a bummer.
“And you were in the restaurant the morning of the robbery. Armed, but you did nothing,” she said, looking at him.
“I didn't want to blow my cover,” he answered.
“The robber could have killed me.”
“I would never let that happen.”
“He was holding a gun on me. You're telling me you can outrun bullets?”
Sumner smiled. “You know as well as I, he was never a threat to you.”
“How can you be so sure? Your FBI training?”
“Addie. He was under your spell the second he walked in the door.” She gave him a curious look.
“Besides, he's a punk kid - on probation for kiting checks. He's in remand in Seattle, awaiting trial on an armed robbery charge. His parents, who are very wealthy, refused to make bail for him. He's just another charming asshole even his mother can't stand having around. I've dealt with hundreds of them.”
Addie crossed her arms and sunk down in her seat. Clearly a sign she didn't agree.
“There's a couple of things we need to discuss,” said Sumner. Addie put her head back and sighed. “How did you get Sergio's phone?”
Addie reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and removed an outdated flip phone with a tiny color display and no touch screen. She dropped the phone into one of the cup holders in the console, like she was disposing of a dead rodent.
“I have no idea who Sergio is. I found that phone.”
“You found it?” asked Sumner.
“Lying on the street. I needed a phone, so I picked it up.”
“Do you know who it belongs to?” asked Sumner.
“I just said…”
“Sergio Falco. A thug working for organized crime. He was killed in a shootout two days ago in the parking lot of a mall. The same day you were there.”
“Good riddance to those assholes. But I didn't shoot him.”
“But you have his ph
one.”
Addie looked over at Sumner. “That was you who called me?”
Sumner nodded.
“Did you have him under surveillance? This Sergio guy?”
“No. That's the strange part. But we know he took your picture that day. And he forwarded it to an old friend of yours. Enzo Ruffino.”
“On this phone?” asked Addie, grimacing.
“Why would he do that? How did he take your picture without you knowing?”
Addie looked uncertain. Sumner had never seen that look before - tentative and confused. Now she had her hands over her eyes. “Do you know who Rice is?” she asked.
Sumner took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Rice again. He hadn't got the report back yet from his tech on this mystery man. That was curious in itself. How long would it take to query the other agencies and get back to him?
“We're keeping an eye on him. Why?”
Before Addie could answer, Sumner's phone bleated at him. He pressed the sync button on the steering wheel, which switched the call over to speaker.
“Sumner?” said the filtered voice.
“Yeah.” Sumner recognized the tech from Quantico.
“I checked into this Rice person you were interested in. I found him in our database.”
“And?”
“And about sixty seconds later I got a call. From the Director himself. The file is locked and I’m not to discuss the details with anyone. ”
“How am I supposed to do my – ”
“And he wants you to call him. Now.”
Chapter 84
Casey’s Mill Lodge, Indiana
RICE CAME TO A SLOW STOP about a half a mile from the drive climbing up to Casey’s Mill, and pulled his truck over to a stand of trees. He had pulled out the fuse for the interior lights earlier that evening.
He got out and listened. It was a quiet night. All he could hear was the muted rumble of a distant train. He grabbed a compact backpack and clipped it into place low on his shoulders, checked his gun, and set off across the field.
The retreat had a stand of birch bordering the long curving drive that curled up the hill to the entrance. He kept the trees between himself and the B&B on the hill, on the lookout for a spotter. He lay down in the tall grass, pulled a monocular out of his jacket pocket, and carefully examined the tree line. After a few minutes he made out a human shape. Someone bored had stretched; Rice saw the two arms reach up. Rice waited, hoping to detect more movement.
Then he saw lights approaching the drive from the gravel road below. A sedan was climbing the hill. Not too fast, not too slow. Someone who had been here before. Rice saw the roof bar of emergency lights as the car drew closer. A police cruiser. At that moment, the officer inside switched on the lights and the trees lit up blue and red. Looking back to the trees, Rice watched the spotter move up the slope, following the police car as it swung around the drive. The cop got out, but instead of walking up onto the porch, he went right along the walkway until he came to the corner of the building. Then he disappeared into the shadows.
Rice knew the building. The officer was heading for the back of the lodge, an area filled with ponds, flagstone walks and flower gardens, which led down to Corydon field.
Rice took advantage of the distraction and crossed the road. The spotter was at the upper edge of the trees, watching the officer. Rice stayed low and moved from tree to tree slowly, his eyes on the other man. He could see the spotter’s head down, a radio close to his face. He was no doubt transmitting a sit rep to the rest of his crew. Rice was now only ten feet away. The spotter was down on one knee, finishing his call.
Rice couldn't use his gun. He had no silencer and he didn't want to attract any attention. He hesitated for a second, considering his options. He remembered an exercise he participated in at the Marine Barracks in Washington during his special ops training. They had laid a two-by three down on the ground, one end propped up on a can of beans. To complete the exercise, you had to stomp down on the piece of wood and snap it in two. The trick was positioning. Too far away from the can and the wood would just bend - too close and the can would explode. The secret was hitting the exact spot with all your weight focused on the striking point.
Rice moved up behind the spotter, who had his eyes on the police car. Rice hit the man with both hands high on the shoulders, pushing him forward and down. The man grunted, then hit the leaf clutter at the base of a mature ash tree with his face, one arm stretched out and clutching his mobile radio. Rice took half a step forward, raised his right boot, and stomped down hard on a spot just an inch below the base of the spotter’s neck. Rice felt the man's spine crack under his foot and saw the head go loose, the eyes go sightless. He reached down to confirm the kill and picked up the radio lying on the ground.
He was running on automatic, the way he had been trained. Britt was in the lodge and these men had followed her here. He would do whatever was required to keep her safe. Nothing else mattered.
Chapter 85
Casey’s Mill Lodge, Indiana
BRITT HAD HER BACK TO THE WALL, forcing her breathing to slow. Someone was working the lock. The first attempt with the passkey had failed. She heard the card snick out of the slot. Then after a few seconds another was quietly pushed in. She was trying to visualize the hired killers in the hall. She could see them bursting into her suite, guns raised. She knew there was no escape. The only outside wall was floor to ceiling glass. And even if she could smash the window, waiting below were at least two armed men and maybe more; soldiers who had demonstrated very little reluctance to shoot to kill.
But she wasn't defenseless. Over the years, as an ER nurse, she had learned a number of tricks from the police and paramedics. Having a solid knowledge of the human anatomy and its weaknesses didn't hurt either. But she was only one woman. If two or three men came at her, she decided she would surrender and wait for an opportunity. If they only sent one in, he was in for a big surprise.
She stood back behind the front door in the dark, waiting. The door flew open and a man dressed in black, a gun held out in front of him, pushed into the room. One man, she thought. They had underestimated her. Even as she leapt at her opponent, she was totally focused on the gun. She had seconds to disarm him.
Britt raised both arms high and wrapped her fingers into a ball, bringing all the force she could muster down on his right forearm. Wrist bones were fragile. If she was lucky, she could break the trapezium or scaphoid, but even if she didn't, she could knock the gun away into the shadows of the room. Then she could run.
Britt's momentum helped her deliver a brutal blow to the man's forearm, just inches from his wrist bone. He grunted softly, but instead of losing his grip on the gun, he let his arm fall to his side, watching as Britt plowed into the heavy oak flooring at his feet. Britt turned, ready to lash out at his legs, then stopped. The illumination from the yard lights through the windows lit up his face enough to make it clear that this was no hired killer. It was Rice. They both looked at each other for a few seconds, Rice's eyes adjusting to the dark room. Rice bent down and took her arm and lifted her up. Britt moved to fold into his arms but Rice spun around her and headed for the windows.
“Have you seen anyone?” he whispered, looking out into the moonlit field.
“There are two down there. They killed a policeman.”
“I was afraid of that.” Then he turned back to her. “Are you alright?”
“Thanks for asking,” she said, rubbing the elbow she had landed on.
Rice turned back to the field. He could see several men advancing from the south along the edge of the old battlefield. “Hard to estimate team size, but I'm guessing at least eight.”
Britt was visibly surprised. “It's like an army.”
Rice nodded. “Our government spares no expense.”
Britt looked across the room, noticing the bouquet on the center island. “Thanks for the flowers,” she said. Then they both heard the angry sound of machine gun fire, sounding lik
e it was coming from the foyer.
“You’re welcome,” said Rice as he ran past her, grabbed her arm, and dragged her through the open door and into the hallway.
CHAPTER 86
Casey’s Mill Lodge, Indiana
THE DESK CLERK BEGAN HIS EMPLOY with the exclusive Casey’s Mill Lodge three weeks earlier. His father owned a car dealership in Louisville that sent customers to the lodge on a regular basis. As a result, he didn’t even have to suffer the indignity of an interview. He was hired within minutes of meeting the owner. His job involved doing some minor repairs around the lodge and carrying bags, but mostly he kept an eye on the registration desk after hours.
There he sat tonight, on an uncomfortable wooden stool, watching a website featuring young women attempting to have various forms of sex with barnyard animals. The horse in this particular video looked bored; the young woman full of forced enthusiasm.
The clerk looked up when he saw the front door opening. Guests. How inconvenient. It had been explained to him on day one that it was against company policy to view pornography on corporate computers. He was reaching over to close the browser when two armed men rushed into the foyer.
“Hands up,” growled the first man. He was dressed in black from head to foot. He even wore a black watch cap. Holy fuck, thought the clerk. Navy Seals? He couldn't think of a body of water within a hundred miles. Unless you counted the three goldfish ponds in the backyard.
The clerk had a serious dilemma. A man was standing only a few feet away, pointing a vicious-looking machine gun at his heart, telling him to raise his arms. At the same time he had his hand on a mouse, one click away from closing a video display full of incriminating evidence.
He looked at the guy with the gun. He had a brief flash of déjà vu. He had seen this all before somewhere. Call of Duty Black Ops? Medal of Honor? Was there a scene in any of his video games involving a bed and breakfast? He couldn't remember.
