“I don’t suppose you still have the notebook?” Kong asked.
Burns shook his head.
“Didn’t think so. But you read it didn’t you?”
“I looked through it. There was a lot of stuff about crates of missiles, surface-to-air, explosives. Sounds like a war is comin’,” Burns said wringing his hands.
“Anything else?” Kong asked impatiently.
“Well, let me think.” Burns rubbed his chin and lowered his head.
Patience wasn’t a strong trait in Kong. “Look, you either remember something or you don’t. We’re burning daylight.”
“Nothing important. Just a bunch of female stuff, ya know, like she was bummed about some guy. ‘I’ll never trust another guy.’ Or ‘happiness is an illusion.’ Some kinda crap like that. Sounds to me like her head wasn’t totally where it needed t’ be.”
Pressure began to build in Kong’s chest. If she was distracted, she wouldn’t be as aware as she normally would. And it was his fault.
“I appreciate you help,” Walt said, turning toward the car.
Burns spoke quickly before he left. “If they have her, well, I can tell you from experience. She won’t last long. Those are some sick sons of bitches.”
Walt’s step faltered. His vision blurred. He couldn’t be too late.
Kong felt like he took a crushing blow to the chest by a sledgehammer. His breath caught and it took every ounce of control he had not to fall to his knees. God, what an asshole he’d been. How could he walk away from her like he had done? Now he might never get the chance to make it right.
Both men walked to the car their faces pasty. Boomer and Ricochet watched the conversation from the car, neither needed to hear it. When Walt nearly fell over his own feet and Kong looked like he’d been punched in the stomach both knew it wasn’t good news.
“Damn, I don’t like this Boomer. I got a real bad feelin’.”
“Me too buddy. Me too,” Boomer said faintly. He closed his eyes and said a prayer that she was still alive.
When Walt got back into the car, he let out a long breath. “Two miles away from the house. She was too damn close,” he muttered.
“Boomer, you got your explosives with you?” No time for guilt, Kong told himself. Later, when it’s all over and you know if she’s alive, but not now.
“Do I ever travel without them?” Boomer replied.
“We get her out. I don’t care if she’s…we get her out, then you blow that place to hell,” Kong said. It took enormous effort to get the words out. The pressure in his chest was making it difficult for him to breathe—squeezing him like a boa constrictor.
“Roger that.”
“Ricochet, you find yourself a place to disappear. Anyone outside is dead. You understand?”
“Completely.”
Walt looked at Kong. He seemed to be taking this personally. Harder than he thought he would, like he cared. “Government may have a man inside,” he said without feeling.
“How would you know anyway?”
“Gut feeling.”
“Then that man better do what he can to protect her, or he’s just as dead as the rest.” The temperature in the car dropped with his words.
Maybe he does care, Walt thought to himself. Too bad the man wasn’t smart enough to figure that out a month ago. Sam wouldn’t be in this mess. With that thought, Walt started the car and drove toward the house that held his niece.
* * * * *
They drove down the road and past the driveway that led to the old farm house. A quick survey was needed before they started moving in. The house sat about a half mile up the road, shielded by the treeline. Thick woods surrounded the house. There didn’t seem to be any other houses in the area, so this had to be the one.
Walt drove back up the road, slowing slightly so they all could get a good look at the front of the rundown building. No one was outside, but there were seven cars sitting out front, all of them the same make and the same color.
“That’s not good. Why would they all want to drive the same car?” Boomer asked absently. Ricochet’s eyes darted around the house, looking for somewhere he could hide without being noticed. A large oak tree with huge, heavy limbs grew near the house. The thick foliage would provide perfect cover.
“When ya get past the house, slow down Cannon. I found my sweet spot,” Ricochet said as he pulled his radio from his pack and slipped it on his head.
“Watch your back,” Walt told him, then slowed down and watched as Ricochet dived from the moving car.
Boomer placed his radio on his head and waited for Ricochet to contact them. When they reached a safe enough distance away from the house, Walt stopped. The three men prepared themselves for the fight ahead. Knives were placed in sheaths, guns were checked and rechecked. Then radio contact was established with Ricochet.
Before they headed into the thick forest Walt turned to Kong. “That’s my baby in there Lowe. I decide when we move and no one moves until I say so. Is that understood?”
The look in Walt’s eyes was nothing short of hatred mixed with fear. Kong swallowed hard and decided it was time to tell the man how he felt. “You may not believe me, but I care about her Cannon. More than you know.”
Walt slipped his revolver into the waist of his pants. “You lost the right to care a month ago.”
“That’s her decision to make, not yours.” Kong said as anger burned in his own eyes.
“You’re damn right it’s her decision. And one I’m sure she’ll make properly,” Walt countered.
“She won’t be able to make any decisions if we don’t get moving,” Boomer interjected before the two came to blows. The two men stared each other down for a few seconds then started moving into the woods. The thick underbrush was difficult to move through, yet they all seemed unaffected by the task. Every ten minutes Ricochet checked in, telling them all was quiet, no movement outside the structure. As they neared the house, Kong’s pulse quickened. The pressure in his chest increased and his palms began to sweat. When they reached the treeline that opened up around the house, they halted.
“Ricochet, what’s happening?” Walt whispered into his radio.
“Nothin’ outside. But I have a pretty good view into what looks like the livin’ room. They seem to be partyin’. They must have something to celebrate, cause the bottles are being passed around,” Ricochet relayed.
Good, Kong thought to himself. If they’re drunk, they won’t be as likely to get off any good shots. “Any sign of Sam?” he asked.
“Negative.”
“How long have they been drinking?” Walt asked.
“Since before I got here. The empty bottle pile is growin’. I’d say another hour or so and they won’t know what day it is.”
“Anyone venture outside?” Walt was sure with all the drinking they were doing someone would eventually stumble outside and take a piss.
“Negative.” Ricochet breathed into his radio.
“Boomer, you think you can do your magic on that van? I don’t want it to blow now, but get it ready.” Walt didn’t want to move yet. With them drinking he figured waiting would be best.
“Roger that,” Boomer replied crawling toward the white van.
“I’ve got your back buddy,” Ricochet radioed.
As the pressure built in Kong’s chest, he closed his eyes. Please don’t let her die. Don’t take her away from me. I was a fool. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I don’t care if she hates me for the rest of my life, just don’t let her die, he pleaded inside his head.
She is still alive came a soft reply.
Relief swept over him with a force he’d never felt. His body began to shake uncontrollably, some of the pressure in his chest releasing. Unable to stay in his crouched position, he sat on his butt in the middle of the thick underbrush. Is she hurt? he asked.
When no reply came he began to sweat. No answer had to mean yes. “Think damn it, ask something useful,” he muttered unaware that his mutteri
ng was going over the radio.
Walt looked over at him and watched as he repeatedly ran his hands through his hair. “Kong, get a hold of yourself,” he whispered into the radio. When he didn’t respond, or even look over at him, Walt knew the man was in trouble.
Tell me where she is. Can you at least tell me where she is inside the house? Kong asked frantically inside his head. Again, no answer. Talk to me, please.
She is inside, safe for the moment. A soft caress ran down his chest, relieving some of the pain he felt deep inside.
“Boomer, you almost finished?” Walt asked urgently. “Kong’s losing it.”
“I’m okay Cannon.” Now that he knew she was inside the house and safe for at least the time being, he was able to pull himself together. “She’s inside and at the moment safe.”
Walt looked over and their eyes met. He didn’t need to ask how he knew. Working with Sam for the last eighteen years taught him a lot. Walt simply nodded in understanding then focused his eyes back on the house.
Chapter Twenty-Four
All the men inside the house had either passed out or were staggering around finding an empty place to pass out. All but one. He’d learned over the last two years how to make it look like he was drinking. Meager sips worked to taint his breath and his acting skills were superb. He could stagger and slur his speech enough to make anyone think he was drunk. Passing himself off in front of those who already were drunk was a piece of cake.
When the last man slumped to the floor, he took his opportunity and slipped away to the basement. He would have his answers. She would tell him who she was and what she was doing here. No one was going to take his glory for bringing down this terrorist cell. Not after all his hard work and sacrifice. As he took each slow step toward the basement door he pictured himself being praised and rewarded for all his outstanding work. The glasses raised in his honor, the endless handshakes. Yes, he thought to himself, he would be the hero. Reaching the door, he laced his fingers and cracked them. Limbering them for the task ahead. She thought what they had done to her was painful—she’d think it was nothing compared to what he was willing to administer. He reached out and turned the knob carefully, then gently pushed the door open.
Someone was there. Sam could feel the slight shift in the air when the door opened. Was it him? Did he return to brutalize her before ending it all? God forgive me for all my sins. But I can’t let this man take me the way he took my mother, she prayed.
Soft footsteps neared as she prayed, then they stopped next to her. Her body braced for the feel of rough hands on her skin, her wrists pressed closer to the metal that would end her torment. But nothing happened. She could hear breathing, but nothing more.
He looked at her. So small, he thought to himself. Just a sprite, but a muscular one. Not bulging muscles, but taut, powerful ones just the same. Her face was a mess of black and purple, accented by the splits in her skin where the flesh had given way to the force of the swelling. Blood trickled from her petite nose. It too was swollen with a repulsive black and purple mixture of color. His eyes traveled down her body, stopping briefly on her breasts. No doubt the almighty master that lay upstairs would turn those two perfect mounds into something just as horrid as her face. His eyes continued their scrutiny, eyeing the knee that was surely broken and the ankles that were now bruised from her battle with the chains that held them. Such a shame a once beautiful specimen would end up alongside the road like so many others that dared to show their faces in this hellhole. But then, she made her decision, just like all the others. No one forced her to come here. Unfortunately once here, all decisions were made for you. When, where and how you died.
Time to start his charade. Time was running out and he needed to know if she was friend or foe. Crouching next to her, he pushed away the urge to reach out and touch the unmarred skin on the underside of her arm. So soft and smooth.
“Tell me who you are,” he asked with compassion. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just need to know who you are and why you’re here.”
Sam felt his breath on her arm. A cold chill slid down her spine causing her to physically react.
“Tell me who you are,” she whispered back.
“I asked first. You’re in a lot of danger honey. So if you tell me who you work for, I might be able to help you.”
“I don’t work for anybody.” If she acted as the lost traveler, she might have a chance.
“That would be a shame. Because if you worked for someone like, oh, I don’t know, Uncle Sam maybe, I might be able to help you.” His trap set, he waited for her as she thought that over. What was he trying to tell her? Was he an undercover agent, was he offering to help her?
Should she trust him? Hell no! She was through trusting men. “Are you telling me you’re not one of these men?” she asked in a defeated feminine tone.
“I’m not telling you anything. I just wonder about you, that’s all. I saw the way you fought. I haven’t seen too many women that can fight like that. You’ve had training, some special training.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I grew up with two older brothers. They taught me how to fight.” Her thoughts went to Ricochet and Boomer. The brothers she wished she had.
Enough was enough. She was lying and he didn’t have time to play games. “Don’t play with me,” he snarled, then grabbed hold of her face and squeezed. “I want to know who sent you, and why.”
Pain exploded in her face. The skin pulled and tore as he squeezed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spit through her teeth. It was taking every bit of strength to keep from crying out in pain.
“You want to play games? I have some fun ones to play. I’m sure by the time we’re done, I’ll have all the information I want.” His fingers let go of her face as he stepped back and pulled off his belt.
“What, you think raping me is going to make me tell you something I can’t?” Don’t let this happen, don’t let this happen she repeated to herself.
The man laughed then said, “I’ve never had to rape a woman in my life. They come to me. Besides, that’s his pastime, not mine.” As he finished speaking, he looped the belt and cracked it down on her injured knee.
A scream tore from her swollen lips. Deep, burning pain radiated up her leg and into her hip. White light flashed behind her eyelids. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to cry, so she snapped back, “You don’t rape women. You like to beat them when they’re defenseless.” She choked, “That doesn’t say much for you. Aren’t you man enough to fight a woman the fair way?”
The belt came back down again, slapping against her expanding flesh. This time she bit the inside of her lip to keep from screaming. Blood trickled from her mouth as she spoke. “Guess you’re no man at all. You’re a coward,” she spat.
“You even take your beatings like a trained professional. Tell me who sent you.”
“No one sent me.” The belt cracked on her knee once more. This time no pain surged through her body, numbness replaced it.
“I see this isn’t going to do the trick, we’ll try something else,” he said as he crawled on top of her and straddled her. He moved his face until it was just inches away from hers. Through the slits in her eyes, she could see precisely where he was. He pulled a small packet from his pants pocket and opened it. “Let’s see how you like having salt poured into your eyes. I bet you talk then.”
Anger poured through every vein in her body. As he leaned forward to open her eyes, she lunged forward with her mouth open. She felt her teeth sink into soft flesh and bit down until she felt her teeth meet. Simultaneously, she jerked the numb leg as hard as she could and pulled her ankle free of the chain. When he bolted backward, she pulled her leg from under him and planted her foot between his legs. Wheezing and gasping filled the dark dingy room. He was still lying on top of her, so she took the opportunity and planted her foot once more in the soft fleshy spot between his legs. With one leg free now, she felt the chains go slack and was able to p
ull her other leg free.
Her whole body numb from the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she kicked and pulled, positioning him for a chokehold with her legs. When he realized both her legs were free, he rolled from the cot and fell to the floor. Blood spewed from his mouth, his lip dangling on his chin like a piece of partially eaten flesh from a horror movie.
“You bitch!” he whined, rolling on the floor. His stomach heaved as his body reacted to the two blows he’d received in the crotch. Dragging himself to the door, he pulled it open and crawled up the stairs. He needed to get outside into the fresh air. He didn’t want the others to know he’d been down there with her and he needed to see how much damage had been done to his face. A quick glance into the living room told him they were all still sleeping, so he stumbled outside.
* * * * *
“We have a visitor,” Ricochet whispered in his radio. “And he don’t look too good.”
“Kong, you up to paying him a visit?” Walt asked.
“My pleasure,” Kong replied, then bolted toward the house. His movements were fast, quiet and precise. The man’s head was bent toward the ground so he didn’t see the blur that was racing toward him.
As Kong approached, the man doubled over and started to retch. Kong circled his arm around his abdomen and dragged him toward the treeline. Once hidden from view of the house, the man felt his body slam against a tree trunk. His vision was blurry, his eyes watery from the immense pain and throbbing in his groin. His breath rushed from his lungs on impact with the tree.
“Fuck.” His eyes strained to focus on the face that was inches away from his. “What…”
“No talking. You listen to me and you listen good. There’s a woman inside that house. I want her back.” Kong was careful to keep his voice low, but his anger was clear in his tone. Still struggling to focus his eyes, the man stared at the stranger’s face.
“Who are you?” he asked as blood ran down his chin and throat.
BlackSmoke Page 23
