With a wide smile on his face, Gray knew that they had found the remains of Captain Lucifer and his men. All he had to do now was widen the search area and find the diamonds.
Gray saw Lieutenant Colonel Taylor giving orders to some of his men. He also noticed that Taylor was trying to avoid looking directly at him. He realized too late that selecting Taylor to help him was the worst decision Gray had made in a long time, not that he’d had much choice. Seras had surprised him with the speed in which she’d made up her mind and authorized the operation.
“Colonel, I want you to spread out the workers. We’re in the right spot. The diamonds have to be nearby,” said Gray.
“Mister Gray, the people we have are nearing exhaustion. I doubt many of them can go on much longer,” replied Taylor.
Gray stepped close and looked into Taylor’s eyes. He saw arrogance mixed with fear. “Colonel, I don’t give a damn about these people. Work them to death, for all I care. We both know that you’re going to kill them all when this is done anyway. Don’t get weak on me. Not now, not when we are so close to finding what we came for.”
Taylor stepped back slightly. The maniacal gleam in Gray’s eyes truly scared him. He had killed dozens of people in his lifetime and had grown immune to death and suffering; however, he had to admit that the man standing next to him was the coldest person he had ever met.
“I will send out a couple of patrols to round up some more villagers,” said Taylor, trying to sound brave.
“Good, get on with it.”
With that, Taylor left to pass on his orders.
Gray walked back to his vehicle and dug out his secure satphone. Regardless of the hour, he knew that Seras would want to be told the instant that Lucifer’s final resting place was found.
Seras answered the call and got straight to the point. “Have you found the diamonds?”
“No, but we have found where Lucifer and his men were massacred,” answered Gray. “It is only a matter of time, a couple more hours at most, before we find the diamonds.”
“Good. That’s excellent news. I’m coming to join you.”
“Ma’am, do you think that’s wise? You won’t be able to land in Monrovia; the U.S. and British have taken over the airport. No one can land without their permission.”
“I’m in Johannesburg right now. I will fly to Guinea. I have a helicopter extraction team waiting at the border to bring the diamonds out. I can fly under the radar to your location in one of their helicopters.”
Gray gripped the phone tight in his hand. His plan called for him to drive the treasure across the border once it was found. There had never been any talk of a helicopter extraction team in any of their discussions. He began to wonder what else she hadn’t told him.
Gray took a deep breath to calm his growing anger. “That sounds good. Give me a call when you are ready to cross the border into Liberia, and I will ensure a landing zone is set up for you.”
“If there is nothing else, I must get ready to leave and join you.”
“Ma’am, have you heard from Marius?”
“He’s dead,” said Seras curtly, before hanging up.
Gray turned to look over at Taylor. A feeling in his gut told him to be wary. He may have disliked the man before, but after speaking with Seras, he knew that he could no longer trust Taylor, either. He reached behind his back, pulled out his pistol and made sure that there was a round in the chamber, just in case he needed it.
Mitchell stood on the hood of his vehicle, studying the new dig site.
Parked in a slight depression in the ground behind some tall ferns, he was totally hidden from view in the darkened jungle.
He didn’t need his NVGs to see. As before, the site was lit up like a Christmas tree. It didn’t take him long to find Cristoval Martinez and the other hostages, toiling away alongside the Liberians.
Mitchell jumped down to the ground. Cardinal took his spot, keeping an eye on the dig. Slowly, Mitchell walked over to Jackson, Emily, and Sam, who were all sitting on the ground eating their supper. Terry Trang sat in the back of the jeep, fast asleep.
“I found your husband and the others,” said Mitchell to Emily.
“Is he all right?” asked Emily, her voice tinged with concern.
“Hard to tell. I suspect that he and everyone else is ready to drop.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” replied Mitchell honestly. He needed to come up with a new plan if he was going to get everyone out alive.
“He’ll come up with something,” Sam said to Emily. “Ryan’s good at making things up on the fly.”
“I’m not sure how to take that,” said Mitchell.
Sam just smiled back.
“Okay, folks, here’s the skinny. The people we’ve been looking for are perhaps no more than three hundred meters that way,” explained Mitchell, pointing back at the dig. “The problem is that we are up against a company of Liberian soldiers by ourselves. So for now we can’t entertain the notion of attacking the dig site.”
“Perhaps if we had a better idea of what was going on out there, it might help us come up with a workable plan to get the hostages out,” offered Jackson.
“I’m all ears,” said Mitchell.
“I’ll go for a little stroll through the camp. I’d rather not, but I think the rest of you might stand out a bit too much . . . if you get my drift.”
Mitchell didn’t like the idea of letting Jackson go on his own, but he didn’t have much choice either. Jackson was right; they needed to know what was going on.
“You’re going to need to change,” said Mitchell. “Your uniform is a dead giveaway.”
“Not a problem. I’ll just grab the first person I can who looks about the same size as me and take their clothes,” said Jackson.
“In that case, you’ll be waiting a long time,” said Sam, smiling.
Five minutes later, at the edge of the wood line, Mitchell shook Jackson’s hand and told him to hurry back.
“Like a walk in the park,” said Jackson.
With that, he bent over and dashed over to the nearest parked truck. Using it for cover, Jackson peered around the side of the vehicle and saw a couple of soldiers standing around talking to one another. Neither seemed the right size to Jackson. He would just have to wait it out and hope that someone more his size ambled by, or he would have to abandon his plan.
Back at their jeep, Mitchell stood on the hood, his binoculars held to his eyes. He could see Jackson waiting in the shadows. High above Mitchell in the trees sat Cardinal, perched on a thick bough, his sniper scope observing the area all around Jackson. The first person who tried to stop Jackson would never know what hit him.
All they could do now was wait and hope that Jackson made it back before first light, or he would most likely never make it back alive.
29
Highway I-90
Western Massachusetts
The rain had been coming down ever since they left New Haven, making the road slick to drive on.
Jen wasn’t a fan of driving on the highway in the dark; there were always too many trucks barreling down the road in a rush to deliver their goods for her tastes. However, she wanted to get back to Polaris headquarters as soon as she could, so trucks or no trucks, she was driving as fast as she could down the highway.
Fahimah sat in the passenger seat, her iPad open on her lap. In one hand she had the journal and in the other was her cell phone. She had been talking with Donaldson nonstop for the past hour.
Jen tried listening in, but found that it was frustrating only hearing one side of the conversation. Instead, she decided to pay attention to the road and turned up her windshield wipers. Jen leaned forward trying to see the road in front of them through the downpour.
Two cars back, the black SUV followed, close enough to see their prey, but not so close to draw unwanted attention. The driver waited until they were on a darkened stretch of the road. The driver placed his foot on the a
ccelerator, sped past the car in front of them, and then drove in close behind Jen. He quickly glanced in his rearview mirror and grinned malevolently when he saw the car behind them turn off.
They were alone. If he were going to make his move, it would have to be now. He pushed down on the gas pedal. The SUV rapidly closed the distance between the two cars.
Jen was about to ask Fahimah a question when she saw the car headlights behind her race forward. A second later, her Jeep was rammed hard from behind, sending her swerving all over the road as she fought to keep from sliding off the slippery road and into a ditch.
“What the hell happened?” cried out Fahimah, reaching for the dash with her hands.
Jen’s heart was pounding wildly in her chest as she turned the wheel slightly, and at the last second, kept her vehicle on the road. She looked up at her rearview mirror and gritted her teeth. The SUV that had hit them was lining itself up for another run at them.
“We’ve got someone behind us,” said Jen as she jammed her foot down hard on the gas pedal. Mitchell’s Jeep may have looked ready for the scrap heap, but he loved to tinker with the engine and kept it in top-notch condition. With a loud growl from the engine, Jen’s vehicle began to pull away from their opponent.
Fahimah looked down at her lap, found her phone, which she’d dropped in the collision, and then looked over her shoulder at the SUV racing to close up with them. “Mike, we’ve got trouble. Someone’s following us,” explained Fahimah. “We’re somewhere on the I-90. I’ll call you back when I can.” With that, she ended the call, reached for her purse, and pulled out her pistol. Pulling back on the slide, she loaded a round into the chamber.
Jen could see the SUV closing in on them. No matter how well-tuned Mitchell’s Jeep was, it was only a matter of time before the SUV closed in with them.
“Look for a turn off,” said Jen, her voice tense and scared.
Fahimah looked out into the night. The rain was coming down so hard that it was nearly impossible to see more than a few dozen meters around them. Panic began to grip her. She wasn’t a field agent. She’d never fired a shot in anger in her life and was hoping that she didn’t have to this time, either.
“There!” said Fahimah, pointing to a dirt road leading away from the highway into the pitch-black wood, running for as far as the eye could see.
“Hang on,” called out Jen as she turned the wheel hard over. Almost instantly, the vehicle slid sideways on the slippery road. Jen prayed that the Jeep’s tires would grip the road before they went tumbling end over end and died in a fiery crash.
At the last possible second, Jen felt the Jeep begin to gain traction. Gunning the engine, she steered off the highway and onto the muddy dirt road leading into the woods.
Behind them, their opponents were surprised by the sudden move; they hadn’t expected her to try and leave the road. Rapidly coming to a sliding halt, the driver threw his vehicle in reverse and backed up to the dirt road. He turned the wheel and steered his vehicle onto the narrow, wet trail. In the distance, he could see the red taillights of Jen’s Jeep. With a determined look in his eyes, he jammed his foot on the accelerator and took off after their escaping prey.
Jen turned onto the first trail she saw. She looked over at Fahimah. Fear filled her eyes.
Jen said as calmly as she could, “Call Mike back and tell him we’re in the woods being pursued by a black SUV, and that he needs to get us help right away.”
Fahimah dialed the number, but before she could say a word, Donaldson blurted out, “Don’t hang up. I’m tracking you via the GPS in your phone. I have you on the screen in my office. Keep going another two kilometers until you come to an intersection. When you get there, turn left.”
Fahimah hurriedly passed on the directions.
Jen nodded. She glanced up and saw the SUV closing in on them. She prayed that they would make it to the intersection before whoever it was pursuing them caught up.
“Can’t you drive this thing any faster?” bitched the baldheaded man.
“They won’t get away,” replied the driver, his voice self-assure.
“Not the way you’re driving.”
The baldheaded man reached down and picked up his Steyr tactical machine pistol from the floor of the vehicle. He jammed home a fully-loaded magazine, put a round into the chamber of his weapon, and then lowered his window.
Rain and cold air rushed inside.
He took rough aim at the speeding vehicle in front of him and pulled the trigger.
Jen tried to avoid a log laying on the muddy trail and swerved to the left just as the first rounds struck the back of her Jeep, shattering the passenger-side taillight. Several other bullets tore through the back door only to embed themselves into the pile of old junk Mitchell had been meaning to take to the recycling depot when he found the time.
Fahimah screamed aloud when the mirror on her door exploded.
Through the rain, Jen could just make out the intersection. Bracing herself, she gripped the wheel tightly and then at the last second, she turned hard over to the left. The Jeep’s tires sent plumes of dirt flying up into the air as they fought to gain traction.
Behind them, the SUV slowed slightly, anticipating the move. The driver took the sharp turn and saw that Jen was now barely one hundred meters away. Anticipation of the kill built up inside him. He flicked on his high beams and saw that Jen was trapped. There was no place for her to go; trees on either side of the road hemmed her in.
It was only a matter of time now.
“Now where to?” said Jen, trying to mask the desperation in her voice.
“Mike, talk to me,” said Fahimah into her phone.
Bullets tore through the back of the Jeep, shattering the rear window and sending shards of glass flying everywhere.
Both women flinched and ducked slightly to avoid the incoming bullets. A second later, a bullet flew between them and hit the front windshield, shattering it.
Bitterly cold air and rain rushed inside.
Jen raised her hand to block the rain. She swore. It was like driving blind.
“Mike says to keep going,” said Fahimah. “There’s a logging camp just up the trail. We should be able to lose them in there.”
“And if we can’t?”
“The state police have been called and are en route.”
They’ll arrive in time to find our bodies, thought Jen. She looked over her shoulder and saw the bright lights of the SUV closing in. She had seconds to do something or they were doomed.
They burst out into a large, clear-cut section of the woods. Jen could just make out several modular buildings in the distance, with two empty logging trucks parked beside them.
Her heart sank when she couldn’t see a light on in any of the buildings. They were alone. The loggers must have gone home for the night, thought Jen.
With a roar from its powerful six-cylinder engine, the SUV charged right up beside Jen’s Jeep. The driver slammed his vehicle against Jen’s, hoping to get her to stop. No matter what, they needed the journal undamaged.
Shaken from side to side by the impact, Jen swore. She wasn’t a professional driver. An idea flashed in her mind.
“Brace yourself,” called out Jen as she jammed her foot on the brake and switched off their headlights. Darkness enveloped her Jeep. In the slick, muddy field, the vehicle slid for a good fifty meters before coming to a complete halt. Quickly switching gears, Jen, with a determined look on her face, turned the wheel to the left, aiming to get behind the modular trailers before their attacker could react.
The SUV’s driver watched as their opponent seemed to vanish in the pouring rain. He swore and smashed his hands on the wheel.
“Jesus, watch out!” yelled the baldheaded man.
Covered by a dirty tarp was a small backhoe.
The driver’s heart skipped a beat as he hurried to apply the brakes. It was too late; he was going too fast.
Less than a second later, the SUV smashed headlong into the pa
rked backhoe. With a loud crash of crumpling metal and shattering glass, the front end of the SUV was obliterated. A cloud of steam rose up into the cool night air from the destroyed engine.
Jen and Fahimah heard, but never saw, the crash as they disappeared behind the row of trailers. Jen quickly applied the brakes.
“Out,” said Jen as she quickly unbuckled herself. Jumping out of the Jeep into the rain, she took a quick look around.
“Now what?” said Fahimah, running over beside Jen.
“Dig out your gun in case we need it.”
Fahimah’s heart was still racing in her chest from the chase. With her hand shaking nervously, she held onto her pistol. She recalled the calm, confident voice of her instructor on the range. Fahimah removed the safety and steeled herself to use her pistol if need be to protect herself and Jen.
“Come on,” said Jen. “We need to find a place to hide until the police arrive.”
Quietly moving along the line of trailers, Jen tried each door but found them all locked.
The pouring rain quickly soaked through their clothes, making both women shiver in the dark. They found an unlocked truck. Jen, followed by Fahimah, crept up inside the cab. Hidden down below the dash, both women prayed that the police would arrive before it was too late.
With a loud groan, the driver of the SUV reached over and opened his door. He pushed his inflated airbag aside. With a groan, he fell out of the SUV and onto his hands and knees in the rain and the mud. His entire body felt as if it had just been struck by a three-hundred-pound football player. The killer reached under his jacket, pulled out his pistol and slowly stood up. He looked back at his rental car and saw that it was a complete write-off. They would have to walk out of the woods.
Lucifer's Fire Page 18
