by Debra Webb
Jim pulled out a chair and sat down. Ian did the same. “All right, Lane. You have our attention. What is it you have to add that’s so important?”
“I’ve been thinking about the activities of the past few months.” Lane pursed his lips and appeared to give his next words deep thought before continuing. “There have been times during the past few operations that I felt the orders I received were influenced by someone who has an in with law enforcement.”
An alarm triggered deep inside Jim. “You have three seconds to get to the point, Lane, or this will not end well. You have my word on that.”
Ian and Simon exchanged a look of concern but neither objected.
They should be worried. Jim would not play games with this lowlife. He could either come clean now or Jim would be cleaning the floor with his face.
“I believe my superior was notified when and how certain attempts to bring down our operation would be carried out. It seemed to me that we always brushed right past any such attempts.”
“Someone in Chicago PD?” Jim prompted.
Lane stared straight into Jim’s eyes. “I want full immunity. I know your agency. You have the power and influence to make that happen.”
Jim shifted his attention to Simon and Ian. “Would you gentlemen excuse us for a moment?”
“Jim,” Ian said, “we should—”
“Now,” Jim interrupted. He wanted no witnesses to what he was about to do and say. He definitely didn’t want to involve Ian or Simon in his decision to cross the line. And he was definitely about to cross the line.
With obvious reluctance, the two men stood and left the room, closing the door behind them.
Jim pushed up from his chair and walked around to Lane’s side of the table.
To say the man’s cocky attitude had melted into one of nervous uncertainty would be an under statement.
In one swift, fluid motion, Jim shoved Lane’s head against the polished mahogany table. He withdrew the weapon from his waistband and rammed it into the man’s skull. “If you know something that affects the well-being of my two investigators you’d better tell me now.”
“It’s the fed,” Lane croaked hoarsely. “Agent White. He’s the inside guy. I guarantee the only reason he went along with this whole thing was so he could ensure your people failed. He’s the one who told me this Barton couple’s intention to buy a kid was a setup. If he doesn’t kill them, he’ll make sure someone else does.”
Jim leaned down close and whispered in Lane’s ear. “You’d better pray that you haven’t waited too long to come clean. I’d hate for housecleaning to have to scrape your brains off my mother’s shiny conference table.”
Jim shoved the weapon back into his waistband and reached for the phone.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to warn Trinity.
Chapter Fifteen
I-65 South, 10:05 a.m.
Twenty miles to Huntsville, Alabama.
Trinity had broken the speed limit by fifteen to twenty miles per hour for most of the trip.
Robinson was asleep in the passenger seat. White sat in the backseat and, like Trinity, had refused to take his eyes off the road or his attention off the operation.
His cell phone had died hours ago. He’d been using Trinity’s most of the morning since he had charging capabilities. Giving the guy grace, White hadn’t had someone like Ian Michaels making trip preparations for him. Ian had pretty much thought of everything.
Trinity gave Robinson a shake. “Wake up, man. I think the next exit is ours.”
Robinson sat up straighter and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, that’s it.” He pointed to the upcoming exit. Then he peered at the time on the dash. “We should be running just ahead of the truck. They can’t risk speeding, for obvious reasons.”
Trinity slowed for the exit, merged onto the 565 interchange and accelerated. He couldn’t get there fast enough. Determination to get Von back from those bastards and to rescue the children was all that had kept him going the past eight hours when sleep and exhaustion had relentlessly haunted him.
Finding her safe and getting her back to Chicago, along with the children, was his top priority. He would not fail her or those kids.
“The pickup location is a condemned mill,” Robinson said. “It’s in an old, rundown part of town. Don’t have to worry about anybody getting in your business around there.”
“We just stay out of sight until the truck or van arrives?” Trinity couldn’t get right with the idea that those in charge were going to move forward with their game plan despite last night’s glitch.
The organization was tightly run. They hadn’t been caught yet and there was a reason for that.
They didn’t make stupid mistakes.
Something was off kilter.
“Yeah. When they arrive, there will be a delay before moving out again,” Robinson explained. “They’ll wait until after midnight.”
“Why wait that late?” That didn’t add up considering their current movements, if the cover of darkness was the point. “They’ve been on the road all morning.”
“We usually get on the road earlier so we’re on location by dawn. Last night was off because Lane wanted to make some extra cash. He gave the boss an excuse about not being prepared.” Robinson stretched his back as best he could within the confines of the vehicle. “We don’t usually take this kind of risk. The middle of the night is way better. Traffic’s light and cops are usually sleeping in their cars.”
White received another call. Trinity glanced in the rearview mirror. The agent appeared in deep conversation.
Whether it was sleep deprivation or paranoia motivated by exhaustion and worry, this just didn’t feel right to Trinity. That feeling was escalating with every passing hour. Getting on the road after the bastards who had Von and the kids had been his sole goal after midnight last night. But now, maybe because the adrenaline had slowed, his instincts were screaming at him.
“That was Simon,” White said. “Lane has given a very detailed statement. His story confirms what Robinson has told us thus far.”
Trinity felt some amount of relief at hearing from Simon. “Did you bring him up to speed on our progress?”
“I did. We’re to give him a heads-up when we get into position.”
Robinson leaned forward. “We got a few more minutes before we get to the next exit. I need a restroom and some coffee.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” White agreed. “Get that part over before we reach our destination.”
Trinity didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to take the time. So far they’d only gotten off the road for fuel, taking relief breaks at the same time. But time was on their side at this point. A rest stop couldn’t hurt. He needed to be ready to act once they were in position at the target location.
“Take the next exit,” Robinson said as he pulled the gloves from his coat pockets and tucked them into place. “It’s a truck stop. Always plenty of traffic. Makes it easy to remain anonymous.” He picked up the scarf hanging loosely on his shoulders and wrapped it around his throat as if he expected icy winds.
Frustration creeping under his skin, Trinity took the exit. It was a good twenty degrees warmer here, he didn’t see any reason for gloves or a scarf. But then, he was obsessing on insignificant details.
“That one,” Robinson said, “on the right.”
The truck stop was massive. Thirteen or fourteen pump islands surrounded a large building. Like Robinson said it was plenty crowded. “You been here before,” Trinity ventured.
“Lots of times.”
When Trinity’s booted feet hit the ground, he took a moment to stretch. Almost nine hours behind the wheel had stiffened his muscles.
Not about to let Robinson out of his sight, Trinity followed the guy and White through the building’s main entrance. Just inside the double doors there were two more sets of double doors, one to the convenience store on the left and the other to a restaurant on the right, a narrow corridor leadi
ng to the restrooms cut straight through the middle.
“I gotta hit the john first,” Robinson said, heading into the corridor.
White nodded, going in the same direction.
Though a large cup of coffee would be damned good right now, Trinity hesitated a moment—he preferred to stick with Robinson. He couldn’t afford to risk losing him. Right now, the sleaze was Trinity’s only connection to getting Von back. And the children.
Inside the men’s room was the usual equipment with numerous stalls and a couple of showers. For the truckers, he supposed. White was taking care of business at one of the urinals already.
Trinity checked the bottom of the stalls until he saw Robinson’s shoes, then chose the urinal closest to the exit so he’d be between Robinson and the exit when he emerged from his stall.
White strolled over to the row of sinks and Robinson stepped out of the stall. The fact that he didn’t flush caused Trinity to hesitate before taking care of his own needs.
Robinson pulled his scarf higher on his face as he walked up behind White.
“Robinson, what—?”
He grabbed the agent around the neck.
Trinity lunged in that direction.
Robinson snatched White’s weapon from his shoulder holster and fired a round into the agent’s temple. The muffled ping echoed in the room.
Trinity reached for the weapon in his waistband.
Robinson released the agent’s body and thrust the muzzle of the weapon in Trinity’s face. “Think before you act, Barrett.”
Trinity glared at him. “What the hell have you done?” Ignoring his own safety, he lowered to a crouch and checked White’s carotid artery. Damn. Half the man’s skull was missing.
Robinson kicked White’s shoulder. “Don’t waste your time. He’s dead.”
Fury and shock making his movements stilted, Trinity searched White’s pockets for his cell phone.
Where the hell was it?
The sound of paper towels being torn from the roll jerked Trinity’s attention upward. He leveled a bead on Robinson. “Put the gun down, you son of a bitch.”
Robinson wiped the blood splatters from his hands and tossed the soiled paper towel as well as the weapon to the floor. More blood and tissue clung to the wall and mirror above the sink.
“We don’t have time to play this game.” Gone was the frightened hired helper who just wanted immunity or a lighter sentence. The man staring at Trinity had the look and sound of a ruthless killer. He unwound the scarf from his neck and poked it into the trash bin.
“You killed a federal agent,” Trinity roared. He snatched up the weapon Robinson had tossed. “You’re not going anywhere but into official custody.”
Robinson laughed. “You won’t do that.”
“Watch me.” Trinity pushed to his feet. All he had to do was walk into the convenience store or the restaurant and have someone—anyone—call the police. Robinson was out of his mind if he thought Trinity was going to let him get away with this. He wouldn’t kill him because he needed him.
“You can’t save your friend and all those children if you kill me or have me locked up.”
Robinson started for the door, turning his back to Trinity and the weapon leveled on him. The man definitely had to be insane. “Stop,” Trinity ordered.
A hand on the door, Robinson turned back to him.
“You see that?” He nodded to the weapon he’d used to kill White. “Why do you suppose Agent White put a silencer on his weapon? You don’t have one on yours.”
Trinity hadn’t missed the silencer. He hadn’t seen White attach the silencer. Hadn’t heard him mention needing one. It certainly wasn’t standard issue.
“He’s one of them,” Robinson said. “He was going to kill you when we got to the location. Me, too, probably. Now, let’s go.”
“I can’t leave him here.” Trinity shook his head. “I have to call the police. You will give me the location and then I’m calling the police.”
Robinson shrugged. “Go ahead. Then you’ll be detained and questioned. God only knows how long that will take. Not to mention—” he nodded to the weapon once more “—it has your prints on it, not mine.” He held up a gloved hand. “Meanwhile your lady friend and those children will disappear.” He smiled, the expression patronizing. “I know these people, Barrett. You won’t ever find her. That’s assuming you aren’t rotting away in prison for murdering a federal agent.”
“Why should I trust you?” Trinity didn’t have to mention that there was a dead man lying on the dingy tile floor that seemed to indicate otherwise. The voice of justice and morality was screaming in his brain…but Von…and those children…needed him.
“Because I don’t care about you,” Robinson said, “or the people you’re trying to stop. I know where Lane hid the 80k you gave him. He has his own special savings account. Since he won’t need it, I plan to use it for a very long, very tropical vacation.”
Trinity glanced down at White once more. How could he be sure Robinson was right about him? And even if he was, this was wrong…to walk away and leave him here was unconscionable.
“He would’ve left you here on the floor,” Robinson said, as if reading Trinity’s mind. “If not here, at our next stop. The bad guys would get away. You and I would be dead and White would have been wounded. Not to mention whatever tidy sums he received under the table for his cooperation. On top of all that, he’d be a hero for trying to stop this thing from going down. They give agents merit badges for that sort of thing, don’t they?”
“Let’s go.” Trinity swallowed back the bitter bile of self-disgust as he put first one then the other weapon in his waistband beneath his coat.
His heart pounded so hard the blood roared in his ears as they exited that long narrow corridor. The sun seemed to spotlight Trinity as he approached the SUV. He kept expecting someone to scream and fingers to point.
They reached the SUV and Robinson held out his hand. The gloves were gone. Trinity hadn’t noticed him taking them off.
“Give me the keys. I’ll take it from here,” Robinson said. “I know the way and you don’t look your best just now.”
Trinity handed him the keys and climbed into the passenger seat.
What difference did it make?
He’d crossed a line that no man on the side of right should ever cross.
Robinson pulled out onto the road and took the ramp back to the interchange. “We’ll be there in less than twenty minutes. You should have plenty of time to get into position before they arrive.”
Trinity shook himself. He had to contact Simon. “I need my cell.” He unfastened his seatbelt and twisted around to dig around in the backseat.
“I doubt you’ll find it.” Robinson snickered. “White isn’t that dumb.”
White’s phone lay on the seat. The battery was fully charged. Fury tightened Trinity’s lips. He tapped a few keys. “Damn it.” Had to have a pass code.
Trinity collapsed into his seat. Robinson was probably right. Trinity’s phone would be missing. White had likely disposed of it in the men’s room back there before Trinity came in. He should have thought of that.
But why?
He’d had no reason to believe White was a traitor.
“What proof do you have that White was the inside man for this organization?” Trinity’s voice echoed hollowly in the vehicle.
“I’ve seen him in secret meetings with Lane. He’s the way we avoided law enforcement.” Robinson slowed for an exit. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. Lane has kept a file on White. He thought he might need it sometime. He can give you all the proof you need. Besides, how do you think we knew you and your wife weren’t real buyers?”
Trinity couldn’t help staring at the man. He wanted to rip him apart with his bare hands. “How do you sleep at night? These are children? All you care about is the money?”
“Look.” Robinson shot him a glare. “I’m doing the right thing this time. Yeah, I’m takin
g the money and I’m going far away. But you don’t get it.” He braked for the intersection at the bottom of the ramp. “This isn’t the kind of job you give notice and walk away from. I’ve been involved in this group for three years and the only people I’ve seen leave have been with a bullet in the back of their skulls.”
Trinity had no sympathy for him.
“Three years?” he asked. “You’ve watched a lot of kids snatched from their families.”
Robinson had nothing to say to that.
Trinity stared out at the rundown and abandoned houses flanking the narrow street Robinson had turned onto.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.
Agent White was dead, whether he deserved it or not. His family would be devastated.
Twelve children from the Chicago area were missing, their parents frantic.
And Von… She might not even be alive.
She couldn’t die like this. God wouldn’t do that twice.
Chapter Sixteen
The truck stopped.
Von snapped to attention. She’d been dozing. The girls had all fallen asleep again and Von had surrendered to the need herself.
She’d told stories for hours. She’d even talked each of the girls into telling a story of her own.
A door slammed.
Von’s breath caught.
It had been hours since they had stopped for fuel. She’d smelled petroleum fumes so she had suspected the two stops had been for fuel.
But she didn’t smell anything now.
She wanted to move but two of the girls’ heads were resting in her lap.
Another door slammed.
With the engine of the truck shutoff, the cargo area was dark. Really dark.
If the girls awoke now, they would be terrified.
Von licked her lips. She needed more water but she’d resisted the urge to drink her fill so the kids would have all they wanted. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Two bottles for each child. Very little was left.
The silence tugged at her attention.
Where were they?
They’d been on the road for a long time. Eight or more hours, she felt certain.
