by J. C. Fields
Plymel shrugged. “We’ll see.”
The car entered the underground parking facility for Crigler’s apartment building. Bob drove the Mercedes to its designated slot, put the car in park, and shut off the engine. He sat and stared at the rearview mirror. Plymel shook his head, pointed the Makarov at Bob’s head, and pulled the trigger. The noise was deafening. The force of the bullet slammed Bob’s head into the driver’s-side window, coating it in gray brain matter and blood. The lifeless body slumped forward, restrained only by the seatbelt.
His calm demeanor gone, Crigler stared at Plymel, who was once again pointing the gun at him. He shrieked, “Why the hell did you do that?”
Plymel shrugged. “No witnesses.”
“I found the hacker!”
Plymel was quiet for a few moments. “If you want to live, tell me.”
“Not till I’m out of this car. Alive.”
Plymel shook his head. “Not going to happen.” He raised the Makarov, pointed it at Crigler’s forehead and pulled the trigger. The man’s head snapped back against the C-pillar. His eyes remained open and his body twitched. Plymel reached inside Crigler’s suit coat and found his wallet and cell phone. As he opened the car door, he noted the look on Crigler’s face: surprise and disbelief.
Grabbing his briefcase, he exited the car and discreetly looked around for witnesses. Seeing no one, he slipped the Makarov back into his suit coat pocket. Just as quickly, he placed the cell phone and wallet, liberated from Crigler, inside the briefcase. With this accomplished, he calmly walked to the elevators and pressed the up button. Ten seconds later, it opened and an elderly man exited. Plymel, keeping his head down, quickly stepped in and pressed the button for the lobby. Once on the street, he hailed a cab and said to the driver, “JFK.”
Chapter 30
Southwestern Missouri
“Roger,” said Knoll. “Wait one—”
JR gripped the steering wheel of his Camry so tight his knuckles turned white listening to the exchange between Knoll and Kruger. His heart was beating so rapidly, it felt like it would jump out of his chest. “What’s going on? Is she okay?” The answer to his question seemed to take an eternity.
Finally Knoll said, “She’s alive.”
JR bowed his head, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as relief swept over him. She was no longer a hostage. The options of how to handle the next few minutes increased exponentially. As he looked up, a figure emerged from the trees on the dirt road two hundred yards south. Unconsciously he touched the Glock resting in the holster on his right hip. He slowly opened the car’s door and stood using it as a shield. A light jacket covered the weapon perfectly. The figure gestured for him to walk forward.
As JR decided what to say, he was silent, noticing the stillness of the afternoon, the slight breeze, the sun midway to the western horizon, and the sound of birds chattering in the background. The air held the scent of cedar trees and dust. He yelled, “Not until you tell me where she is.”
The man responded, “Then I guess we’re going to stand here all day staring at each other. Give me the location of the money and I’ll tell you where she’s located.”
“It’s not here, I will tell you that.”
“Account numbers, password, and location will work nicely. Once I confirm the money’s there, I’ll tell you where she is.”
JR thought about telling the man Mia had been found, but he dismissed the idea immediately. His next thought was to get back in the car and leave. But, until he knew Mia was out of the area, this was not an option. Finally, he started walking south down the gravel and dirt lane toward the man. Keeping to the right side of the road, he stayed as close to the tree line as possible. He was good with an automatic pistol, but no one was good at over six hundred feet. When he was within thirty yards, the man pulled a pistol from a shoulder holster and pointed it at him.
The man said, “That’s close enough.”
JR stopped. “Who are you?”
Smiling, the man shook his head. “Who I am isn’t important. But returning the money you stole is very important.”
Smiling, JR said, “Can’t do that.”
“Then your girlfriend will die.”
“I can’t give it back because I don’t have it anymore.”
Weber was silent, caught off guard by the comment. “What do you mean you don’t have it anymore?”
“I never did. I transferred it to a bunch of charities. It’s gone. Spent. Plymel stole it and I gave it away.”
“That wasn’t very smart.”
JR shrugged. “Maybe not. But it’s what I did.”
Surprised by the turn of events, Weber stared at JR, trying to determine if he was telling the truth or not. Finally, after almost a minute, he said, “Those funds belonged to the investors. They weren’t Plymel’s.”
JR shook his head. “Your information’s faulty. P&G Global was a scam from the start. Both Plymel and Crigler were lining their pockets every time they bought and sold a business. How many lives were screwed up because of their greed? They’ve been doing it for years.” He paused and let the man digest this revelation.
Weber was silent and just stared at JR.
JR continued, “Plymel wasn’t even the biggest thief. Alton Crigler stole more than Plymel. As managing partner, he had more access to funds. Who hired you?” He paused for effect. “I bet it was Crigler. He’s probably a paying you a trivial amount to find me, locate the funds, and make me disappear. How much is he offering you to find me?”
Weber remained silent, although the pistol wavered, its barrel pointing more toward the ground than at JR. The man continued to stare. Finally he said, “Nice story. Imaginative, but nothing more than BS.”
JR shrugged. “You can choose to believe what you want. But, you were instructed to kill me. Correct?”
“That part is correct.” Weber started to bring up a Sig Saur nine-millimeter. But JR was ahead of him and made a quick dash to his right through a thick patch of cedar trees. The Sig Saur discharged twice and he felt chips of bark bounce off his face as the bullets struck a tree to his left. He turned back north, found a large oak tree, and stood behind it.
He pulled his Glock from his holster and listened. The background noise of birds, insects, and small creatures was gone. In the eerie silence, JR could hear Weber’s steps crunching on the gravel road as he walked north, searching for any sign of his quarry.
As the sound moved north of his position, JR moved as quietly as possible through the underbrush to the south. When he had estimated moving twenty yards, he moved back toward the gravel road. The cover thinned as he moved closer to the road. Now he could barely make out the shape of the man, who was now forty or fifty yards north of his position.
He burst from his cover, pointed his Glock toward Weber, and fired two shots. He then ran south toward the center of the complex, where Knoll and his team would be heading. As he reached a series of earthen berms used to separate firing lanes, he stopped and listened. Standing with his back to the northern-most berm, he heard the crunching of gravel as the man ran toward him. The sound stopped and Weber said, “The girl’s dead by now, Diminski. You lost.”
Checking his Glock, JR stepped out from behind the berm and fired two quick shots. Keeping low and using a series of berms as cover, he ran south for another fifty yards. He ducked behind a wooden structure used for storage. Looking for additional cover, he spotted a row of steel barrels a hundred feet further south. He sprinted toward the barrels and got behind them. Filled with sand, they were being used to separate two pistol stations. The barrels were aligned east to west, were waist high, and provided excellent cover. Their position also provided a clear view of the path Weber would have to take to follow him. All he had to do was crouch down and wait.
During the chase, the earpiece for his cell phone had fallen out of his ear. He noticed it dangling from its clip attached to his shirt. He quickly fitted the piece back into his ear and heard Kruger in the middle of a
sentence, “Gunshots. JR, what is your status?”
As quiet as possible, he spoke into the microphone, “Weber’s north of the pistol ranges. He’s coming south down the gravel service road toward my location. I’m in the middle of the compound behind a steel drum barrier.”
“Ok, Knoll and two others are heading your way. Mia’s alive, but we can’t waste any time getting her to a hospital, we’ve called for an air ambulance.”
***
Weber saw his quarry dash out of the trees fifty yards south of his location. The man was quick and got off two shots before he ran behind more trees on the opposite side of the road. Raising his Sig Saur to return fire, he stopped, realizing he was too far out of range. He started to pursue, but paused just before making the small turn leading to the center of the compound. It suddenly dawned on him that he was an easy target standing in the middle of the gravel road. Entering the tree line on the west side of the gravel road, he moved as quietly as possible south, past the cleared areas containing two large pistol ranges. Ten-foot earthen berms surrounded the ranges and provided cover as he moved toward the center of the compound. Once past the pistol ranges, he found a path that led downhill toward more training locations. The path was narrow and surrounded by head-high weeds and scrub brush. He bent low and ascended the path toward the center of the compound.
Just before emerging into a clearing, he heard voices to his left. Stopping at the edge of the woodland, he observed three men dressed in camouflaged clothing talking to Diminski. One of the men was the big guy he’d seen at the fugitive’s apartment. His suspicions that the man was military were confirmed. The other two men dressed in camouflage kept calling him major. The high-powered sniper rifle slung over the big man’s shoulder helped Weber determine his next move. He quietly backed deeper into the brush. The arrival of reinforcements had been anticipated, so he turned around and headed west, farther into the brush. He worked his way south through the oaks and cedars, toward a small clearing close to the compound’s southern entrance. His progress was slow, and he was careful to make as little sound as possible. Halfway to the clearing, he heard a helicopter southeast of his location. His first thoughts were they had brought in a sheriff’s department to start a more thorough search. Picking up his pace, he moved quickly to the clearing.
The clearing was at the end of a rutted one-lane dirt road. Weber wasn’t sure of the road’s purpose, but he had found it when studying the compound on Google Earth. As part of his escape plan, Weber had hidden an old Jeep Wrangler in the clearing the previous day. Just as he was climbing into the driver’s seat of the Jeep, he heard the helicopter taking off and realized what it was. They had found the girl and were airlifting her to a hospital.
He hit the Jeep’s steering wheel with his hand. Staring out the window, he realized he had been out-maneuvered at every step of the operation. He pulled his cell phone out and dialed Crigler’s cell phone. The call went straight to voicemail. He thumbed a quick text message and hit the send icon. He then started the Jeep and drove up the steep bumpy dirt path toward the main service road.
***
Kruger watched as the air ambulance settled onto the highway. After being extracted from the car, Mia was unresponsive with shallow breathing. One member of Knoll’s team was a medic named Stan. He immediately started CPR and kept it going until the air ambulance arrived.
A female EMT emerged from the helicopter and rushed toward Mia’s position. As she was getting her equipment set up, she said, “What’s the situation?”
Stan said, “Carbon monoxide poisoning. Female, mid-thirties, weight fifty-two kilo’s…”
The EMT said, “You military?” Stan nodded. She said, “Pounds, what’s her weight in pounds?”
“Approximately one fifteen.”
“Got it. What else?”
“Pulse Ox was eighty when we found her. CPR was applied and as you arrived, we’d just gotten it to ninety.”
“How long?” The EMT’s pleasant demeanor changed to one of concern as she applied an oxygen mask to Mia.
He shook his head. “We don’t know. She was tied up in a car with the engine running. The exhaust had been funneled into the passenger compartment.”
“Shit…”
A second EMT appeared with a gurney, and they immediately lifted Mia onto it. Once she was properly secured, they rushed her to the waiting helicopter.
Kruger watched as Stan followed the EMTs to the air ambulance, said something to the female. She nodded and he climbed into the back of the helicopter. As the rotors on the helicopter spooled up, he started walking back to the compound’s entrance. By the time he arrived, the air ambulance disappeared as it turned north toward Springfield.
He stood behind the Denali, which still blocked the compound exit. The view up Molly Avenue stretched north uphill into the compound for three hundred feet before it made a sharp right turn. Kruger could not see around the corner from his location, but he could hear a vehicle approaching on the gravel road.
He drew his Glock out of its holster, pointed it up the path, and stood behind the hood of the big SUV. His position placed the engine block between him and anyone coming down the road. He said into his com-set, “I have a vehicle approaching my location, please acknowledge.”
“It’s not us Sean. Weber disappeared. It’s probably him. Can you see him?”
“No. Wait a second. A vehicle just cleared the curve. It’s a dark-brown Jeep. If it’s Weber, he’s stopped.” Kruger smiled grimly. The headlights and grill of the Jeep were visible, but the windshield was still in the shadows.
Kruger heard in his ear bud, “We’re heading your way. We’ll be on foot.”
“Got it. The Jeep is still stopped at the curve. The driver is probably deciding what to do. I doubt he expected his exit to be blocked.”
The Jeep did not move for several minutes. Then Kruger heard the engine whine as the driver accelerated the vehicle toward the blocked exit.
The compound entrance was narrow, slightly larger than the length of the Denali. This allowed a steel-pipe gate to block the entrance when the compound was not in use. Kruger had parked the SUV just outside the gate and left it closed. As the Jeep accelerated, he backed away from the Denali and moved east to keep an eye on the driver’s side of the Jeep as it approached.
Dust billowed around the approaching Jeep as it gained speed. The combination of flying dirt and shadows from the surrounding trees obscured Kruger’s view of the driver. The Jeep was traveling at over thirty miles an hour when it struck the gate and the Denali. The screech of metal on metal and swirling dust caused Kruger to shield his eyes for just a few seconds. But when he brought his Glock up to cover the driver, the Jeep was unoccupied.
The tree next to Kruger took the bullets aimed at him. The two shots had been fired from north and slightly west of where he stood. He quickly ducked behind a large tree and said into his com-set, “Shots fired. He’s in the trees north of the gate on foot.”
“Roger, we copy. We’re at least five minutes from your location.”
Kruger took a deep breath, quickly reviewed his options, and realized there were not many. Five minutes was an eternity in a gunfight. He yelled, “FBI, Weber, give it up.”
Two more shots were his answer. The bullets struck the opposite side of the tree he was hiding behind. He lowered himself to a crouch. Realizing those two shots were fired from a location east of the first two shots, Kruger knew Weber was moving. “We found the girl, she’s alive. Your plan didn’t work.”
There was a long pause before he heard his answer. “Doesn’t matter. I got the information I needed.”
The direction of the voice was even farther east, Kruger knew he had to move or become a sitting duck. He bent over and made a quick dash to a larger tree to his left. Another shot was fired, and the bullet passed between the smaller and larger tree, ricocheting off the highway fifty feet to his south.
Crouching again, he stepped out from behind the tree and fired his Gl
ock in the general direction of the previous shot four times, moving the barrel an inch to the right each time. He quickly ducked back behind the tree as three more shots were fired in his direction.
Picking up a hand-sized rock lying a foot in front of him, he tossed it to his left. The rock struck a tree and more shots were fired at the sound. Kruger stepped to his right and repeated the four-shot pattern in the direction of the gunshot. Two more shots were fired, this time hitting the front of the tree where he was hiding.
His radio crackled, “Sean, we’re at the curve. Cease your fire and get behind something solid. We’re going to flush him out.”
“I copy, making myself small.” He sat down behind the tree and waited. Five seconds later, the sound of automatic weapons firing was deafening.
Chapter 31
New York City
The name Abel Plymel was given to him by his handlers; there had been no debate in the matter. To him, it was a distasteful name, one he had never really embraced. Now free of the pretense, he relished the thought of once again using his real name.
His appearance needed to change. The passport picture of Kozlov showed a man without glasses. The other difference was shorter hair. On the way to JFK, he had requested the cab driver stop at a Walgreens. Once inside the store, he purchased an electric beard-trimmer, shaving cream, and disposable razors. Now in a men’s room at the airport, he used the trimmer and razor to remove his thinning hair. Contacts from his apartment were used to complete the transformation of Abel Plymel to Alexei Kozlov. He smiled as he stared into the mirror.
He had tossed the Makarov and extra magazines into a trash bin outside the airport, concealed in the Walgreens bag. Now he sat in front of the ticket counters trying to determine where Alexei should go.
He heard Crigler’s cell phone ringing inside his briefcase. By the time he opened the case the call was gone. He looked at the missed call file and noticed there were three from the same number. The number meant nothing to him. A minute later, a text message arrived from the same phone.
