The Jefferson Key: A Novel

by Steve Berry

  Nelle stopped moving, her eyes alight with hate.

  “Look at it this way. The longer you breathe, the more chances you have to live. A bullet to the head ends things completely.”

  Nelle nodded in understanding, caught Kaiser’s gaze with her own and shook her head. No more.

  “Good,” he said. “I knew you would be reasonable.”

  He motioned for them both to be hauled outside. One of the electric carts waited in the rain. Both woman were laid onto its wet cargo bed. Two men with rifles stood guard, watching the trees, alert to the storm.

  All seemed clear.

  The two armed men hopped into the cart.

  He’d already told them to avoid the main road to the dock and use the secondary path, which was primarily for the farm equipment that tended the fields.

  And to hurry.

  The cart sped off.

  He rushed back inside the prison. As captain, it was his duty to stand with his men.

  And stand he would.

  CASSIOPEIA APPROACHED THE BUILDING THAT HALE’S SECRETARY had identified as the prison. She’d learned from the terrified man that both Stephanie Nelle and Shirley Kaiser were being held there. She’d also learned that the building was under attack, so she’d approached from its rear, eastern side, staying in the trees, seeing no one so far. But that didn’t mean much. The storm provided excellent cover for both her and everyone else.

  A door opened in the rear of the building. In the wedge of light that escaped she watched two women being carried out.

  Her heart sank.

  Then she realized the hands and feet were bound. No need to tie up a corpse.

  Two men with rifles stood guard and another man seemed in charge. Both prisoners were laid across the back of a vehicle not much larger than a golf cart. The two men with rifles climbed into the front seats.

  The rest retreated inside.

  The cart headed off into the dark.

  Finally, a break.

  WYATT RETREATED FARTHER INTO THE TREES THAT DOMINATED the north shore of Paw Island and watched as the boat drew close to shore.

  Who was this? The fire had clearly drawn them. He spotted four people in the small craft. One with long hair, thinner. A woman.

  The boat’s bow beached.

  The woman and one man leaped out, both holding guns. Another man, standing at the wheel, also brandished a weapon. They examined his stolen boat using a flashlight. Then they cautiously advanced inland, toward where he’d doused the fire.

  “He’s here,” he heard the woman say.

  Carbonell.

  Good fortune had finally turned his way. But he didn’t like the odds. Four to one, and his ammunition was limited. Only five shots remained in the magazine.

  So he stayed still.

  “Okay, Jonathan,” Carbonell called out. “We’re going to the fort to clean up your mess. I’m sure you can get there before we can. If you want to play, that’s where you’ll find me.”

  KNOX DID NOT WANT TO BE HERE. THIS WAS INSANE. CARBONELL was deliberately challenging Wyatt. And what about this Cotton Malone? Was he still around, too? He watched as Carbonell found her cellphone and pressed one of the buttons. She listened for a moment then ended the call.

  “Jonathan,” she called out. “I’m told Malone has left the island. Now it’s just us.”

  He checked his watch. Nearly midnight.

  Dawn was only a few hours away.

  They needed to get out of here.

  Carbonell returned to the boat and seemed to sense his edginess.

  “Relax, Clifford. How many times do you get to do battle with an accomplished pro? And that’s exactly what Jonathan is. A pro.”

  WYATT HEARD HER COMPLIMENT, WHICH HE TOOK AS ANY thing but. She was goading him. But that was okay. He was going to kill her, tonight, inside Fort Dominion.

  Yet there was something else.

  Carbonell had come here to announce her intentions.

  She was leading him. Pushing him forward.

  Toward the fort.

  He smiled.

  CASSIOPEIA HUSTLED THROUGH A FOREST OF CYPRESS LADEN with dripping moss beards. The cart with Stephanie and Shirley made its way toward a graveled path that cut a swath back toward Hale’s house and the river. Not the main road she’d followed to get here, but a secondary route, most likely being used to avoid whomever had decided to pay the estate a visit on this stormy night.

  The cart sloshed its way ahead through the rain, its electric motor whining as it turned left onto a straightaway into the trees. She timed her approach carefully, both hands empty, swiping the soaked foliage aside, shaking her head to keep her eyes clear, building momentum.

  She caught sight of the cart to her left, winking in and out beyond the branches, coming her way.

  She waited until it was perpendicular to her path, then burst from hiding, her body slamming into the man sitting on the front passenger side.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 10

  12:20 AM

  HALE RECEIVED THE NEWS HE WAS WAITING FOR—reinforcements had arrived outside the prison and were in position. Now they had their attackers in a vise. Similar to when privateers swarmed their prey, circling, the noose ever tightening, each watching out for the other until together they captured the target.

  He faced the six crewmen inside the prison. “We strike them hard, flushing them back. Our men are waiting for them.”

  The others nodded.

  He knew none of their names, but they knew him and that was all that mattered. Earlier, they’d witnessed the vengeance he and the other three captains could mete out, so each one of them seemed eager to please.

  But he wasn’t asking them to do anything he wasn’t planning on doing, too.

  He’d already decided that he’d had enough of pacification.

  Time to personally deliver a blow that his opponents would understand.

  “I want only one of them alive,” he made clear.

  CASSIOPEIA WATCHED AS THE CART DRIVER WAS FLUNG ONTO the wet roadbed. The man from the passenger side had been driven across the front seat, his hands now clinging to the steering wheel. A right cross sent him reeling out of the cart. She righted herself as the wheels rolled to a stop.

  Gun in hand, she took aim behind her.

  The two men were recovering, grabbing for their rifles.

  She dropped each with a shot to the midsection.

  She advanced toward the still forms lying in the road, two hands steadying her aim, and kicked the rifles away.

  Neither man moved.

  One lay faceup, his lips open, mouth filling with rain. The other was on his side, legs at an odd angle.

  She ran back to the cart.

  KNOX REENTERED FORT DOMINION, THIS TIME THE PRISONER of Andrea Carbonell.

  “How many men do you have here?” he asked her.

  “Just these two now. I ordered the others to leave.”

  But why should he believe her? Of course, the fewer witnesses to what she was about to do the better, but he had no illusions. Not only was Jonathan Wyatt on her hit list, so was he. She’d made him think they were still allies, that their interests remained aligned—I might even give you a job—but he knew better.

  She was also doing something he’d never seen her do before.

  Carrying a weapon.

  She stopped within the inner bowels of the fort, crumpled buildings and collapsed walls all around them, the stench of birds heavy once again in the chilly air. He recalled the fort’s geography from his first visit and wondered how much Carbonell knew of this place.

  Would that knowledge give him a slight advantage?

  His two men lay dead about fifty feet above him. They’d carried guns. He had to make a move.

  But he’d only get one chance.

  Make it count.

  MALONE WAS FLYING SOUTH, OUT OF CANADIAN AIRSPACE, BACK to the United States. He was worried about Cassiopeia, wishing she hadn’t gone in there alon
e. Okay, she was brave, and he knew how she felt about Stephanie. And yes, they were all frustrated and wanted to do something. But going solo? Why not? He’d probably have done the same thing himself, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

  The plane’s phone buzzed.

  “We have quite a storm here,” Edwin Davis said from North Carolina. “It’s creating a mess. You might have a problem landing.”

  “We’ll worry about that in three hours. What’s happening across the river?”

  “Gunfire has resumed.”

  CASSIOPEIA RIPPED THE TAPE FROM STEPHANIE’S MOUTH, AND the older woman immediately said, “Damn, I’m glad to see you.”

  “You look pretty good, too.”

  She peeled tape from Shirley Kaiser’s face and asked, “You okay?”

  “I’ll live. Get this crap off my hands and feet.”

  When both women were free, Stephanie rushed back and retrieved the two rifles. She returned and handed one to Shirley. “Can you use it?”

  “You bet your sweet ass I can.”

  Cassiopeia smiled and asked them both, “You ready?”

  Rain continued to pour.

  “We have to make it to the dock,” she told them. “I have a boat there. Edwin is waiting across the river, and there are Secret Service agents on this side in Bath.”

  “Lead the way,” Stephanie said.

  “I want to kill Hale,” Shirley said.

  “Take a number,” Stephanie said to her. “But that’s going to have to wait. Cassiopeia, are you saying that all that gunfire we heard has nothing to do with you?”

  “Not a thing. They showed up just as I did.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  HALE DIRECTED HIS MEN AS THEY FLED THE PRISON THROUGH the concealed rear door and advanced around toward the front, where their attackers waited. Many of the building’s windows had been shot through but the old timbers had withstood the barrage. He was still in radio communication with his men who were flanking the attackers. They were awaiting his order before revealing their presence.

  He came to the edge of the building and stayed low.

  The storm had hardly abated during the past hour. His eyes were blurry with water. He used the upper eave for protection and focused out at the tree line. The yard, where the prisoner had died earlier, was acting as their salvation, as the intruders were hesitant to advance across its open expanse.

  A blast of lead peppered the building.

  He heard something thud to the ground and saw a splash.

  Then another.

  “Captain, get down,” one of his men yelled.

  CASSIOPEIA WHIRLED AT THE SOUND OF TWO EXPLOSIONS COMING from the direction of the prison.

  “Whoever they are,” Stephanie said, “I’m glad they’re here.”

  She agreed. “But we need to stay in the trees. There are men everywhere, and it’s a good twenty-minute trek back to the dock.”

  HALE PUSHED HIMSELF UP FROM THE WET GROUND AND SURVEYED the damage. Two grenades had destroyed the prison’s front door and taken out the remaining windows.

  But the walls had continued to hold.

  He found the radio and gave the command. “Kill them, but make sure I have one prisoner.”

  The men with him already knew what to do and started firing, drawing the intruders’ attention.

  Shots were returned.

  He sought cover behind the trunk of a hefty oak.

  Shouts were heard.

  Automatic weapons fire came steadily, then lapsed, the clicks gradually slowing until only the wind and rain could be heard.

  “We have them,” came the voice over the radio. “All dead, except one.”

  “Bring him to me.”

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  NOVA SCOTIA

  WYATT BEAT CARBONELL AND HER CONTINGENT BACK TO FORT Dominion. He felt a little like he had that night years ago, trapped with Malone in the warehouse. Except he was now the fox, instead of the hare. He’d assumed a position similar to what the Commonwealth had taken on his arrival, utilizing the wall walks to maximum advantage. He’d also found his backpack, ditched earlier before his confrontation with Malone, and re-donned his night-vision goggles. He wished he had a supply of flash bombs. They’d come in handy right about now.

  Below, he spotted Carbonell with three men. Two were armed. The third was Clifford Knox and he was unarmed.

  He decided to strike the first blow.

  So he aimed for one of the armed men, the night-vision goggles providing excellent visibility, and fired.

  KNOX HEARD A SHOT CRACK THROUGH THE NIGHT.

  The man standing five feet away from him cried out in agony then collapsed.

  The other armed man reacted, diving for cover.

  So did Carbonell.

  He fled.

  Disappearing into a doorway a few feet away and climbing toward the roof.

  CASSIOPEIA LED THE WAY, TRYING TO STAY AS FAR AWAY FROM Hale’s house as possible. There’d been no more explosions, and the gunfire had subsided.

  “You’re telling me,” Stephanie whispered, “that Edwin has no idea who’s attacking this place?”

  “That’s what he said. But it’s most likely NIA. We suspect its director is deep into this.”

  “You can’t trust a thing Andrea Carbonell says or does.”

  “Right now, I’m glad for whatever she’s doing. That attack made my job a thousand percent easier.”

  They kept moving, guns ready, keeping a watchful eye on the forest around them. Something caught Cassiopeia’s attention off to the right. She grabbed Stephanie’s arm and signaled for Kaiser to stop. Sprawled on the wet soil was a man, not moving. She crept over and saw that half of his skull was gone.

  The other two women came, too.

  Stephanie bent down and examined the corpse. “Body armor. Night goggles.”

  A radio lay to one side.

  Stephanie lifted it and tried, “Is anyone listening on this channel?”

  Silence.

  “This is Stephanie Nelle, head of the Magellan Billet. I ask again, is anyone on this channel?”

  HALE SURVEYED THE DEAD MEN, ALL EQUIPPED WITH BODY armor, night-vision goggles, grenades, and automatic weapons. They lay in the trees, rain drenching their corpses. They each carried a radio with an ear fob, one of which he now held.

  “Where is my prisoner?” he asked his crewman.

  “We took him inside. He’s waiting for you.”

  He still held his weapon. Reports from the main house confirmed that more intruders were dead there. Nine all told. None of his men had sustained any injuries. Had Carbonell thought him that incapable? The security center confirmed that the estate was again secure, and the two vehicles the men had arrived in had been found about half a mile from the north perimeter. The storm had effectively masked the gunfire and the estate’s isolation would aid in the cleanup. His men had also checked with the other captains. No one had been attacked save for him, and none of the three had dispatched any men to assist.

  “Is anyone listening on this channel?”

  The words startled him. A female voice. Coming through the radio’s ear fob, which he’d inserted a few minutes ago on the off chance that there might be some chatter.

  “This is Stephanie Nelle, head of the Magellan Billet, I ask again, is anyone on this channel?”

  KNOX FOUND THE UPPER WALL WALK BUT KEPT LOW. HE MADE his way to one of his dead men and discovered no weapons. Either Wyatt or Malone had made sure there was nothing to find. The only other gun he might retrieve was from the man Wyatt had just taken down. But that would be difficult.

  Two shots rang out from below.

  One sent a round off into the night.

  The other a bullet his way.

  CASSIOPEIA WATCHED AS STEPHANIE TOSSED THE RADIO TO THE ground and said, “Useless.”

  “Shouldn’t we get out of here?” Kaiser asked.

  Cassiopeia agreed. “We’re only about halfwa
y and it sounds like things have calmed down. It won’t be long before they know you’re gone.”

  Stephanie gestured with her weapon. “We’re leaving, but I’ll be back for these bastards.”

  HALE RAN TO THE PRISON BUILDING, FOUND AN ESTATE PHONE, and called Adventure.

  “Has a cart arrived with two prisoners?” he asked the man on the other end.

  “Nothing, Captain. Just a lot of wind and rain.”

  He hung up the phone and pointed at two crewmen.

  “Come with me.”

  WYATT WAS PLEASED.

  One down. Three to go.

  On his run over from the boat he’d realized that Carbonell would not just parade into the fort. She knew he’d come and she knew he’d want her dead. She’d have a plan with contingencies. So when he’d reentered he’d stayed hidden, intentionally avoiding the main gate, slipping inside through a collapsed portion of the exterior wall.

  “Come on,” he whispered to her. “Don’t disappoint me now. Be your usual cocky self.”

  HALE FOUND THE EMPTY CART AND HIS TWO DEAD CREWMEN about a hundred yards from the prison.

  Dammit.

  He’d been told that they’d stopped all of the intruders, but that apparently was not the case. Where were Nelle and Kaiser? They could not have gone far. It was more than a mile to the nearest fence, and depending on which direction they chose, that would take them either onto another captain’s land or to the water.

  The river.

  Exactly.

  It had always been their greatest security threat, its wooded shoreline nearly impossible to patrol.

  His cellphone vibrated in his pocket.

  Security center.

  “Captain,” the man said as he answered. “We’ve reviewed the recordings and noticed that a single intruder gained access to the dock by boat about ninety minutes ago. Resolution was poor because of the storm, but it appears to be a woman.”