Tucker lost sight of them as the perimeter road curved away, but the pursuing headlights continued to glow through the trees. He estimated it was only another quarter mile to where he and Frank had cut through the fence.
He called down to Frank. “When we get to the spot, brake hard, unload everyone, and get them through the fence and to the boat.”
“And you—?”
“I’m going to continue in the Suburban before those bastards see you, try to draw them off, then Kane and I’ll abandon the SUV and set off on foot.” Hopefully we can lose ourselves in the woods long enough to cut through the fence at a new spot. “But don’t wait. We’ll swim across the river and find you on the other side.”
“Tucker!”
Frank’s shout wasn’t in disagreement. The Suburban braked hard, throwing Tucker against the front edge of the sunroof. He hauled around as Frank skidded their vehicle through the dirt. Around the next bend, a Suburban sat sideways across the road, its headlamps doused.
Earlier, Tucker could only account for seven of Tangent’s Suburbans. Here must be the missing eighth. Likely the driver had been out of the camp and had only returned recently through the main gate, just in time to set up this blockade.
From his vantage in the sunroof, Tucker caught a glimpse of a familiar scar-faced figure crouched on the far side, a rifle balanced on the hood of the SUV.
It was the Frenchman from the ambush at the swamp.
With no time to aim, Tucker fired wildly at the parked Suburban. The Frenchman shot at the same time. Rounds shattered glass and pinged off metal all around.
“Ram him!” Tucker yelled before Frank came to a full stop.
Frank obeyed and hit the accelerator again. The Suburban’s engine howled, and the vehicle shot forward, casting up a rooster tail of dirt behind the vehicle. Tucker dropped back into his seat, cradling Kane.
The SUV struck the other with an explosive crunch of metal. Twin airbags deployed, slamming Tucker’s body. Frank let out a strangled cry, echoed by the others in the back. The airbags deflated within a fraction of a second, filling the interior with a flurry of talcum powder.
Coughing and waving at the air, Tucker popped up and noted that Frank had succeeded in striking the rear quarter panel of the other SUV. The impact had knocked the vehicle askew, far enough for them to pass—if they hurried.
“Go, go, go . . .” Tucker urged.
Frank understood and ground them past the wrecked Suburban. As they cleared its bulk, a dark figure dashed away and into the trees to the left. The Frenchman shot at them as he retreated, but Tucker lifted his rifle’s barrel past Frank’s nose and returned fire through the driver’s-side window, chasing the man deeper into the forest.
But the Frenchman wasn’t the only threat any longer. While the man hadn’t stopped them, he had delayed them long enough for the other Tangent forces to close the distance behind them.
Bullets thudded into the Suburban’s back end.
Takashi opened fire from the rear compartment. The young man’s barrage drove off the lead vehicle, sending it veering to the side, where it slowed and momentarily blocked the others behind it.
Takashi lifted his head up and looked back, wearing a proud grin.
Tucker yelled, “Get d—”
Takashi’s forehead exploded outward as a single gunshot rang out. Beyond the man’s falling body, Tucker spotted a dark figure standing at the edge of the forest, a sniper rifle at his shoulder.
The Frenchman.
Frank continued around the curve of the perimeter road, and the gunman vanished out of sight behind them.
1:24 A.M.
Gasping in pain, Karl Webster stood before a mirror in the cabin bathroom. Through his swollen eyelids, he could barely make out his reflection. He looked like a goddamned raccoon, only with a blistered, red mask. His sinuses still stung not only from the capsicum in the pepper spray but from the hit of ammonia salts his men had used to wake him after pulling him to safety during the firefight.
By the time he had woken, the assailants had fled aboard one of his own Suburbans. Then a minute ago, Rafael Lyon radioed that he had arrived at the encampment’s main gates, apparently already fully abreast of the situation. He claimed he was going to set up a blockade on the perimeter road, boasting that he would deal with this group once and for all.
Karl heard the blame in the man’s words.
Furious, he dunked his face into the washbasin for the third time. It was full of a mixture of dish detergent, water, and milk. He blinked his eyes and rubbed his skin, letting the cooling center him.
As he straightened, one of his men stepped into the room. “We’re ready, sir.”
He nodded and limped around on his bandaged ankle.
Lyon didn’t know whom he was dealing with—certainly not with these assailants and definitely not with me.
Karl Webster had an ace up his sleeve, a backup in case Lyon failed.
“Get those birds up in the air,” he ordered his teammate. “It’s time to end this.”
1:26 A.M.
Twisted around in his seat, Tucker watched behind their SUV. He focused on the back road, doing his best to avoid staring at Takashi’s crumpled body in the rear compartment. Tucker’s breathing wheezed through his clenched teeth as he pictured that French assassin. Fury threatened to narrow his vision into a pinprick.
Then a warm tongue licked his wrist. At his knee, Kane must have sensed his anguish and distress, offering his support. In turn, Tucker’s fingers found the dog’s scruff and dug deep, reassuring the shepherd.
They were all shell-shocked.
In the backseat, Diane sobbed, huddled into a ball. Nora lay over Stan’s body. From the glassy-eyed stare of the blond man, he must have already bled out. Frank glanced over at Tucker. His pained expression was easy to read, full of guilt, desperate for what to do next.
The lights of the pursuing vehicles were gaining on them. His early plan to dump off the others and lead the enemy away was no longer an option. Instead, he pointed ahead and to the right, to where the forest beyond the security fence had thinned out.
“Make a hard right. Don’t brake if you don’t have to.”
Frank nodded, understanding.
They needed to reach the river as soon as possible.
Frank eked out more speed, then yanked on the wheel. The Suburban bumped off the road and rammed into the fence. Their vehicle’s three-ton bulk burst through chain link. Once clear, Frank juked the SUV left and right, doing his best to avoid trees, sideswiping a few trunks. Branches slapped and scraped their flanks.
Tucker left the navigating to Frank. He craned around and stared up at the road. Headlights reached the break in the fence and stopped back there.
Why aren’t they coming after us?
Worried, Tucker turned around as the Suburban’s nose bucked over the uneven terrain. He spotted moonlight glinting off water up ahead.
“Don’t slow,” Tucker warned. “Take us straight into the river.”
“Bank’s high. We’re gonna catch some air.”
He nodded and turned to Nora and Diane, their eyes shining fearfully back at him.
“The river’s not too wide here. Maybe a hundred yards.”
“Oh, God,” groaned Diane.
“It’ll be okay. Once we get to the other side, we’ll be safe.”
It was a lie, but a necessary one.
Hope helped you survive.
Diane balled a fist in Stan’s shirt. Nora reached over and forced her to let go. “He’s gone, Di. We’ll have to leave his body. Stan wouldn’t want you to die because of him.”
She pulled Diane to her side, her eyes on Tucker, silently asking what to do.
“When we go in,” Tucker instructed, “the interior will fill up quickly. Go out the windows. Try to stay together, but don’t fight the current. Just get to the far bank and wait. If we get separated, we’ll find you.”
“I see something,” Frank said, drawing all their
attentions forward. The river loomed only thirty yards away. “Above the water to the left.”
It took Tucker half a breath to spot a dark object hovering close to the shore.
“It’s a Wasp,” Nora said, her voice strangled. “A surveillance drone.”
“Does it come with any firepower?” Tucker asked
“No.” She scanned through the open sunroof. “It’s meant to paint a target, then a Shrike is summoned to take it out.”
Tucker pictured the fixed-wing drone that had hunted them through the swamps.
So that’s what you call it.
“We may be okay for the moment,” Nora continued. “Shrikes take longer to get airborne. Wasps are easier, meant to be sent in advance at a moment’s notice. But if it paints us and tracks us . . .”
A Shrike will be on our asses before long.
Tucker now understood why the Tangent guards had hung back. With the river under watch, they could take their time sending men on foot, intending to catch their targets in this snare.
“What do we do?” Frank asked, starting to hit the brakes.
Tucker pointed forward. “Stick to the plan. Don’t slow down.”
As Frank pushed them faster, Tucker grabbed his rifle and popped back through the sunroof. Careful of low-hanging branches, he raised his assault rifle and wrapped the shoulder harness around his forearm to steady his aim.
Frank shouted up at him. “Hang on!”
The Suburban blasted out of the tree line, bounced over a bank of river rocks, and shot high over the water. Once clear of the forest, Tucker fired at the drone as it hovered in the air, held aloft by four propellers. He strafed without stopping, emptying the entire magazine, knowing he would have only this one chance.
A handful of rounds struck true. The Wasp bobbled in the air—then tilted sideways and crashed into the river.
Now our turn . . .
The Suburban—front-heavy with the engine—nosed down. Tucker dropped back into the cabin, sheltering Kane under him. The vehicle struck hard. Water sprayed over the windshield and began flooding through the front windows.
Tucker shouted above the torrent, “Everybody out!”
Frank boosted to his knees on his seat and rolled through the driver’s-side window. Tucker made sure Nora and Diane got out safely, then lifted Kane, pushing the shepherd through the flooding window on his side.
By the time Kane was clear, the water had risen to Tucker’s nose. Past the windshield, the headlight beams glowed green in the swirling sediment. He took a deep breath and pushed off to follow the others—but then jerked to a stop.
His left foot was tangled on the seat belt. He yanked his leg. Nothing happened. A rush of panic filled his chest. The Suburban, now fully flooded, sank rapidly into the depths, plunging nose-first toward the bottom. The body of Takashi floated over and bumped against him, as if urging Tucker not to abandon him.
Tucker fought harder, twisting his foot and rotating his ankle. Finally, his leg came free. He kicked out the window and toward the watery moonlight. Seconds later, he broke into the night air.
Kane dog-paddled over to him, which plainly took effort. Already the current had hold of them. He looked downstream. There was nothing but swirling water under the glow of the moon. He spun around, looking, looking—
Twenty feet to his right he spotted a flailing arm. Frank’s head surfaced next, sputtering and coughing.
Tucker called, “You okay?”
“Think so! Where’re the girls?”
“Here!” Nora’s voice called out of the darkness.
Tucker spotted her waving. The current had carried her farther, at least fifty yards downstream.
“I have Diane! She’s hurt!”
Frank started swimming in that direction, but Tucker called him off. “I’m closer. Head for the far bank.” He pushed Kane to follow the man, adding a firm command. “SWIM TO SHORE.”
As the pair set off, Tucker kicked and paddled downstream. The current helped him reach Nora quickly. She had Diane under one arm, holding the woman’s head above water. Blood dribbled from a scalp wound. The brunette looked dazed, but awake, more in shock than anything.
Tucker took Diane from her, and they headed together to shore. Nora’s gaze kept sweeping the night sky. Tucker followed her example, knowing what she feared.
Had Tangent sent out more than one Wasp? Was a Shrike already in the air?
Tucker swam faster.
As he neared the bank, he spotted Frank and Kane running down the sandy shore toward their position. Frank helped haul Diane out of the water. The woman’s limbs were weak and wobbly. Tucker saw a long gash in her jeans, flowing with fresh blood. She must have cut herself on a jagged piece of the wrecked Suburban during her escape.
“We need to get out of sight,” Tucker said and urged everyone into the woods.
He knew this night’s hunt wasn’t over.
16
October 19, 2:08 A.M. CDT
Lacey’s Spring, Alabama
Once deep within the woods on the far side of the river from the military base, Tucker called them all to a halt. It was time to regroup versus running blind.
He helped Diane down to a log and briefly inspected the handkerchief he had hastily tied around her upper thigh. Blood seeped through the cloth. They needed to get her medical attention, and the closest town was the little hamlet of Lacey’s Spring. Tangent would surely have eyes on that place.
Following Tucker’s example, Kane sniffed at Diane’s leg wound, then settled to his wet haunches with a huff, as if sensing their plight.
Though the night was warm, Nora shivered, soaked to the skin.
Frank pulled a fatherly arm around her and pulled her closer.
Nora leaned into him, but her eyes never left the skies. “They won’t give up, you know,” she muttered. “They’re just regrouping. Probably lost us in the water.”
Together they scanned the breaks in the canopy overhead. Tucker’s ears remained tuned for any telltale buzz of a drone’s engine. As encumbered as they were, with only the trees for cover, a Shrike would make short work of them.
But first it needs to find us.
So far he had spotted no other Wasps in the air, but Nora was right. He knew more of the surveillance drones would soon be sweeping through the woods, followed behind by a Shrike. Nora said The Odisha Group had built a dozen Wasps and a pair of Shrikes. They also had something called a Warhawk, a larger wedge-shaped drone outfitted with a 20 mm cannon loaded with depleted uranium rounds.
So there was no telling what might be sent after them.
“We need to get back to our cabin,” Frank said. “Get to my cases.”
“Why?” Tucker asked.
He knew Frank had spent the downtime inside the rental cabin working on equipment nestled in the cushioned interiors of his cases, which included the CUCS module for the Shrike hunting them in the swamp. They had left the remote control at the cabin, powered off, guessing whatever protective frequency it broadcasted was likely recalibrated after Tangent had found it missing. If they tried to use it now, it would likely only serve to announce their position.
“It’s risky,” Tucker warned. “It won’t take them long to put two and two together and come searching that cabin.”
“Then we’ll have to move fast,” Frank said. “I can grab what I need and we can pile into the Durango and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“They’ll have the roads watched.”
“But maybe I can blind those eyes.”
Nora turned to him. “How?”
“I analyzed the signaling technology inside one of your CUCS units and found it’s a closed two-way system. The remote control not only communicates to the drone but receives feedback.”
Nora nodded. “It’s a looped system, so we can monitor the prototype’s functionality from the ground.”
“I built something that can track that signal, so we’ll know if a drone is nearby broadcasting its unique signature.�
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“Is that possible?” Tucker asked.
Nora turned to Frank and peppered him with technical questions that were above Tucker’s head. She finally turned back to him. “It’s possible.”
Frank nodded. “And I think I might be able to tweak the device into broadcasting a jamming frequency up to the drone.”
In other words, blinding it.
“But I haven’t had a chance to make those changes to it,” Frank warned. “Or test it, of course.”
“I can help him,” Nora said. Her eyes were glassy in the dark, her mind already working on this puzzle.
“We’ll have to be quick,” Tucker warned.
He got Diane back on her legs, but he had to practically carry her now, her breath wheezing fearfully in his ear. She was close to passing out.
Luckily, the cabin was only a quarter mile away, and they reached it in good time, motivated and with a plan. Still, Tucker had them hold back, hidden in the woods behind the cabin. The place appeared dark, but he had Kane circle the log structure to make sure no one was around. Only then did he and Frank risk climbing into the place through a rear window.
As Tucker grabbed a first-aid kit, Frank secured his two hard-shell cases and tossed them through the window. They then both bailed out and retreated into the woods. The Dodge Durango was parked fifty yards away on the shoulder of a forest access road.
Before approaching the vehicle, Frank dropped to a knee at the edge of the forest and opened one of his cases. He pulled out the CUCS device recovered from the swamp and removed a metallic, spiral-shaped antenna, which he passed to Tucker. “Hold it up as high as you can.”
Tucker did as instructed, while Frank grabbed a dangling wire from the antenna and plugged it into his device. He also hooked a small laptop to it, which he balanced on his knee.
War Hawk: A Tucker Wayne Novel Page 16
