Powers turned off the radio.
~
Midday was a murky grey green and there were few cars on the road, though more than Powers expected given the circumstances. Having deviated from his directions already he took State 211 at New Market and turned east. The road conditions deteriorated even more. He had crossed the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains on I-66 and was doing it again, though on a much less developed road.
Streams and runoffs were overflowing. The water was to the bottom of the small bridges and debris was collecting against them dangerously. County road crews in yellow slickers worked stoically but their real job would begin only after the storm passed. Whatever was going to happen was beyond their efforts at this point.
At Luray, he took State 675, a narrow paved road and slowed to a crawl. In more than one place water was passing across the road, once rising above the bottom of the Cadillac’s doors. From that point on Powers never spotted another vehicle on the road.
It was late afternoon and he had smoked the last cigarette from the first pack an hour earlier as he finally drove through Seven Fountains, the little burg looking abandoned. Just outside of town a pine tree lay uprooted across most of the road and he crawled his way around it. Ten minutes later he drove slowly passed the mailbox marked “Ostergren.” He continued, as he was passed it, to the first place on the road where he could easily make a U-turn, careful not to leave the asphalt and risk getting stuck, then he drove back to the mailbox. He sat in the car with the engine idling a long minute as wind and rain buffeted the car then headed up the graveled road. It stayed to high ground and was well packed so the going was easier than he expected.
Nearly a mile in, he broke from a clump of trees and spotted the blue Taurus. His sense of satisfaction was short-lived, for next to it was a four wheel drive Ford Explorer with a stocky man in a green rain parka standing beside it. He looked startled then raised his hand as if to point his finger. There was a flash of light and at the same instant a shot shattered the windshield in front of Powers.
SIXTEEN
Seven Fountains, 6:33 p.m.
Powers shoved the Cadillac into reverse then pressed the accelerator to the floor as he threw himself across the seat. The tires spun on the mud and gravel, the rear of the car weaving crazily for several seconds before a second shot tore into the windshield shattering it across the car’s interior. Then the tires caught and the Cadillac roared backwards. Powers peeked over the seat and steered around the first curve of the road then killed the ignition and raced from the car into the woods.
He pulled the .380 automatic from his pocket and held it tightly in his hand like a pitcher gripping a baseball, not wanting to drop the only weapon he had. The ground was slippery, and with the wind and heavy rain the going was very difficult. He fell once, then again. His pant leg caught on brush and ripped. He turned to his right and moved quickly through the undergrowth several minutes, then turned right again and advanced cautiously. Not far away was the beginning of the fire parameter for the cabin and he crouched there, in the trees and foliage, to wait and catch his breath.
It was difficult to hear over the howling wind but he could make out no one coming behind him. He doubted anyone was capable of following his path through the woods in these conditions. Right now he wanted to know how many he faced. The cabin was fairly primitive, with a chimney made of local rocks cemented in place, a small porch and storm windows. It was wood framed, sided with clapboard and had been haphazardly repaired over the years. For all that it looked rugged and cozy.
The man in the green parka, which Powers realized was actually military camouflage appeared out of the rain on the road jogging quickly back towards the cabin, glancing nervously left and right. At the porch, Powers caught a glimpse of a second male figure as the first entered the cabin. While the pair was conferring Powers worked his way quickly to his left then bolted to the cabin from the rear. He eased along the wooden wall to a window and glanced in. A bedroom. Empty. The next window also revealed an unoccupied bedroom. He cautiously turned the corner and risked a look through a third window.
On the living room couch was a bandaged woman, her legs bound. It was Julie Marei, her face revealing absolute terror. She caught his movement in the window and her eyes turned round as saucers as she drew her mouth to scream. He placed a finger to his lips and she froze. There was a man in the room, taller, more rangy than the first, dark enough to be called black, wearing a checkered flannel shirt. He turned to face Marei as Powers ducked then moved to the front corner.
The stocky man stepped from the porch now carrying an assault rifle at port, a model Powers did not recognize. He crouched using the Explorer and cabin for protection from the wind and rain and slowly scanned the woods starting to his right, working left. Powers moved cautious back along the wall to the cabin’s rear.
Le voyez-vous? “Do you see him?”
Non. Avez-vous? “No. Do you?”
Rechercher pour lui. Je vais voir à la pute. “Search for him. I’ll see to the whore.”
Powers waited. The wind was coming almost directly at him and if anything had increased in intensity these past minutes. It masked sound and made vision difficult since it was growing dark much earlier than normal. The stocky Frenchman in the parka had moved to the woods and was working the edge slowly. Powers located him perhaps half a second before he was spotted. There was no warning just as there had not been earlier. The Frenchman raised his weapon and opened fire as Powers dove from the wall, rolled once, lay flat on the ground and fired three shots.
Bullets from the assault rifle laced the lower portion of the cabin wall where Powers had been, then raced quickly up the side and streamed haphazardly into the sky as the man reeled back from his wound. He emptied the magazine, staggered awkwardly backward, then disappeared into the foliage.
“Marcel!?” a man’s voice called from the front of the cabin. Avez-vous eu de la merde? “Did you get the shit?”
Powers slipped into the woods and spent the next half hour in the growing darkness working his way slowly to where he’d last seen the stocky Frenchman. He made the final few feet on his stomach but there had been no reason for the caution. The man lay almost where he’d been shot. It was a stomach wound, two bullets, lower than Powers had aimed, and his death had been slow. He was not as young as he had seemed, nearly 50, but powerfully built with heavy features, smelling strongly of schnapps. His mouth was locked in a grimace of pain.
Powers loaded the assault rifle with the remaining fresh clip he found on him, relieved the body of a heavy Browning nine millimeter then worked his way through the pockets. There was nothing but $312 in cash. Several times the man in the house called out Marcel’s name but he wasn’t willing to move far from the cabin. It was nearly dark by the time Powers finished.
He wondered if the remaining Frenchman would kill Marei rather than risk letting her fall into another’s hands and decided the risk was too great to take. The pair had been very trigger happy. Better to make his move while the man was uncertain if Marcel was alive or not. Powers slipped the parka over his head, thinking he might create confusion for a crucial second. He worked his way towards the abandoned car then stepped from the woods and jogged as he had seen the dead man do, heading straight for the cabin’s porch.
The man in the flannel shirt eased the door open slightly. Pourquoi n'avez-vous pas me répondre, Marcel? Why didn’t you answer me, Marcel?
He stopped suddenly and turned to reach behind him. Powers shouted, “Wait!” but the man kicked the door open the rest of the way and raised his weapon. Just then Marei hopscotched into him and the pair were tangled for a second. The man knocked her back with an elbow to her face and turned as Powers shot him through his parka with the assault rifle. He was dead before he came to rest just inside the doorway.
There was a long pause then Marei screamed.
~
As Powers entered the darkened room Marei abruptly stopped, then looked up at him from the
floor with uncertainty. “Is there another?” he asked in a whisper. She didn’t speak. “Is there another! Answer me!!”
She shook her head in two sharp jerks then slowly raised a hand to her check. Her arms were heavily bandaged and he saw other wrappings beneath her robe. Powers lowered his weapon, eased the dead man’s parka over his head, then pushed the door shut with his foot. He placed the gun on the coffee table.
“Please, please don’t hurt me,” she begged. “I’ve told them everything. I... I mean I didn’t tell... I.. Don’t kill me.”
“No one’s going to kill you, Julie. Not if I can stop it. Let me get you onto the couch.” He lifted the surprisingly light woman and lay her down gently, placing the sides of her quilted pink robe carefully across her. “I’ll untie your feet now, then see to bandages. You’re bleeding. From the looks of the storm I’d say we’ll have the place to ourselves for the night. We have a lot to talk about if we’re going to get out of this alive.” He pulled the very old white Navy wool blanket on the couch across her.
The young woman eyed him skeptically. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Dan Powers and I’m a friend, if you’ll let me be. I need to know what you know if I’m to help.”
Marei nodded her head slowly but it was a neutral gesture. When she spoke her voice was a whisper. “All right. Only...”
“Only what?”
She looked at the body. “Take him out first, please.”
SEVENTEEN
Seven Fountains, 7:27 p.m.
Powers went through the dead black man’s pockets and except for another handgun, an unopened pack of Marlboro cigarettes and ammunition clips found nothing but cash and keys to the Explorer. He dragged the body into the woods and lay him beside Marcel, then covered the pair with a parka. After that he retrieved the Cadillac and checked the road to the pavement. The rain was torrential but moving at once made more sense than staying put. Rain roared through the gapping windshield and when they left it would have to be in another vehicle. Fifty yards away an uprooted pine lay across the road. So much for that.
He drove the Cadillac behind the cabin. Just as he was leaving it his cell phone chirped. It was Carmine, all apologies for being slow. Five minutes later, Powers disconnected then finished searching the Explorer where he found camping gear. He took the heavy duty flashlight with him and an athletic bag with extra ammunition clips. He was soaked to the skin by the time he entered the cabin. There he lay out his weapon’s cache and wiped the water from them. That would have to do for now.
“Are there any weapons here in the cabin?” he asked.
“No.” Marei sounded calmer but from the look of her if she’d been in better shape she’d be hiding in the trees. She didn’t look strong enough to make it across the room. Her attack on the black man at the crucial moment took on an increased significance.
“Let’s see to your wounds.”
“They’ll wait. You should dry off. Jacques – at least that was the name he used – was about your size. He put a change of clothes in the bedroom.” There was only the trace of a French accent in her speech.
Powers stripped what remained of his suit from him, tossed it into a corner then toweled off. He pulled denims on that were just an inch too long and a heavy blue flannel shirt from L.L. Bean. In the front room he located bandages and sat beside Marei. “Let’s see what I can do.” She was oozing blood in half a dozen places. As he opened her robe to examine the words more closely he got a good look at her for the first time
Marei was older in appearance than she had been in the video but given what had taken place the last four days he was not surprised. Her complexion was very pale and her long black hair was pulled tightly back, held in place with a white head band. But for all the trauma and the circumstances her beauty still dominated any impression of her. “Thank you for helping earlier,” he said as he gently lifted her robe.
“I didn’t know who you were but I knew them, what they planned to do. They did this.” She extended her left arm. Along the soft underbelly of the elbow were five deep circular wounds.
“Cigarettes?”
“Yes. They were Algerian pigs. I’m not brave. They put my head in the... in the toilet and that was enough. The cigarettes were for fun, I think. They drank a lot and laughed about what they were going to do to me once they took me to a place they had, just to be certain I told them the...” She stopped.
“It’s all right. They’re dead. Anyway, I don’t care who you’ve talk to, just so you tell me what has happened.” Her eyes glazed over. “Hold on now,” he said. “This may hurt just a bit.”
Beneath the bandages Powers estimated there were approximately a dozen wounds, not all of them serious. The cuts on the back of her hands and along her forearms, defensive wounds, were deep but not life threatening. As he had thought all along, they were the cuts of an amateur. He had a hundred questions but now wasn’t the time. “Show me your hands. That’s good. Now open and close them. Very good. Do you feel numbness in any of your fingers?”
“No.”
“That’s excellent.”
The wounds along her torso were not threatening. The ugliest ran from the base of her throat across her small right breast before tapering away. The worst was on the left side of her abdomen. It was not large but was a deep puncture that oozed blood. She flinched when he lifted the bandage lightly. “Did Dr. Kandari say you were in danger from these?”
Marei swallowed before speaking. “He said if I didn’t move and no infection set in he thought I’d be okay. He wanted me in a hospital for some kind of blood work but understood that was impossible.”
“He couldn’t be certain you weren’t bleeding internally. Have you become weaker since coming here?”
She nodded her head slowly.
“It may mean nothing. You’ve been through a great deal. But we need to find a way to get your blood tested.”
“Is... Is my uncle...”
“They got away the last I heard.”
“Good. My father will help them. Uncle Abdul is a very gentle man. I shouldn’t have gone to him, but there was no one else. He said he understood.” She smiled lightly in a distinctly feminine way. “I’m going to have ugly scars, aren’t I?”
“They aren’t so bad. Your face was spared and a plastic surgeon will be able to help a great deal.”
“You should see my arms. I’ll be wearing long sleeve shirts from now on.” She paused then said, “It won’t be so bad I guess.”
“No, it won’t.”
“I mean, then maybe men won’t want me so much. I think that would be better. Maybe I’ll behave myself around them. I’ll have to, won’t I?”
Powers changed two of the bandages, cautioning her to remain still as he did. She complained of the discomfort repeatedly like a child whining to a parent. “The one wound won’t stop bleeding.”
“It will this time,” he said as he finished then took a nearby chair. Only now were his nerves starting to calm. He opened his second cigarette pack.
“May I have one, please?” she asked, extending her hand. He lit both cigarettes with a yellow Bic lighter from the coffee table.
They sat smoking for several moments before Powers spoke. “Why did they try to kill me?”
She shrugged. “They already knew what they had come to learn. They were expecting someone and wanted to question you but as the weather got worse they decided not to wait any longer. Marcel was drinking too much. There’s no telephone and they didn’t bring a mobile one with them. They argued about that a great deal. Marcel wasn’t very smart and Jacques didn’t like working with him. They were just leaving as you arrived. After waiting so long I think you caught them by surprise.” She looked at him skeptically with two grey eyes. “How do I know you won’t torture me to get what you want?”
“I won’t.”
Marei looked unpersuaded. “They said you were from the White House. Who sent you? And who are you? You still haven’t told me.”
“It’s a long story. I’m here to help. We have to learn to trust each other. With the rain, wind and flooding, plus the tree across the road out, we’re stuck here. For tonight we’re all we have. The danger for each of us isn’t over. I need to know about you and the President.” She eyed him skeptically. “There’s no reason for secrecy now. I don’t know enough, and that could get both of us killed.”
“Why shouldn’t I think you aren’t here to kill me?”
“I’m not. If I wanted you dead we wouldn’t be talking now.”
“Maybe you want to question me first.”
“Julie, those men were correct to this extent. I was asked to find you by the President. He is very concerned for your safety. You’ve got to trust me, even a little.”
She let out a breath of air he hadn’t noticed she was holding. “He would say he was worried about me. That’s his gift, isn’t it? He feels empathy for everyone. Why not a little for me? It costs him nothing and it makes him feel noble.” She sucked on the cigarette. ”What difference does it make?” she said finally with forced lightness. “It will be over soon, then I will be safe.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not important. What do you want to know? After those... pigs I have no secrets any longer.” She finished her cigarette, punched it out in the overfilled ashtray and raised an eyebrow to ask for another. “There is a carton in the desk over there, so if you aren’t going to kill me we can at least smoke ourselves to death.” Her manner was flirtatious and for the first time she smiled.
~
Before they began Powers brewed a pot of strong coffee and poured himself a large mug. She wanted nothing but water. It was night now. The wind and rain were unabated. He sat down, lit another cigarette and hacked.
Shadows and Lies Page 17
