Cait stared over at him. He gave her a thumbs-up, and she returned it. They’d found Ellers and he was leading them right to him.
*~*~*
“Reveille” pulled all the hostages out of their bed.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Patti muttered. “What time is it?”
“Too damned early,” Bill replied, rubbing his eyes.
Susan had barely swung her feet off the side of her bunk when the door to their jail opened.
“Everybody out!” the guard barked. “Move it!”
She laced on her shoes as the others struggled into theirs. Once they were ready, they were marched toward the front of the compound. It was barely dawn, the air heavy with oppressive humidity from the recent rain. Occasional droplets still fell on their heads.
For Susan, there’d been little sleep. While the others had crawled into their bunks one by one, she’d read Ellers’s ravings by the light of an electric lantern. When she had finally given up at about two, the dreams were so damned vivid, she could have sworn she wasn’t sleeping at all.
Then came “Reveille,” one of the many reasons she’d never wanted to join the military. That thought brought her back to Landry and Hardegree. Were they really dead? Someone might have gotten the drop on one of them, but both? Especially Hardegree—not that the guide didn’t look like she could take care of herself. If Cait had survived, she’d be letting the world know exactly what had happened to the rest of them. Unless Hardegree had killed her and then got topped himself.
Prodded by rifles, she and the others were lined up in front of Ellers’s house. They weren’t the only ones present; other militia members slowly formed up in groups on either side of them. Mothers did their best to quiet the young kids as they whined or cried, having been pulled out of bed far too early for their liking. Susan gave a quick look around but didn’t spy a bugler. The morning wake-up call must have been a recording.
Rafferty stood by a tall blond woman and a pair of young boys, his family no doubt. His eyes met Susan’s, then quickly looked away. So far, he’d kept her secret, but for how much longer?
While she waited, eyes gritty and the urge to yawn nearly overwhelming, she sorted through what she’d learned from Ellers’s writing. The manuscript had been a jumbled mess, almost a steady stream of diatribe, something that had driven Bill nuts. But ignoring all the bullshit, Susan had begun to see the man behind the rhetoric and Ellers was as scary as she’d feared.
Anyone in authority, especially a female, was never to be trusted. Unless, of course, that person with the authority was Ellers. He had a quartet of “ists” going for him: misogynist, racist, egotist, and anarchist. He was convinced that he was the only one who could save America from the blacks, the Jews, the government, and the “feminazis.” Susan knew where she’d fall on his hate list: She was Jewish, had two X chromosomes, and was a federal agent. Three for four. He wouldn’t even hesitate to put a bullet in her brain.
The commander had an arrest record, which included domestic violence, which in the manuscript, he had explained that away as his wives’ fault. Wives, as in plural. In short, he was a loud-mouthed, hateful, and abusive SOB. Who holds us hostage. Which said he wasn’t as stupid as she’d hoped.
The door of the house swung open and their lord and master strutted out to study them. His hands were on his waist as he turned to survey his minions. The way he held himself twitched Susan’s memory again. This time, the answer came to her.
Mussolini. He acts just like him. Which made total sense, as Ellers had devoted one whole chapter of his memoirs to his admiration for the Italian dictator.
“How do we start and end every day?” he bellowed.
“By remembering we are the ones who will restore liberty to this once-great nation,” came the rote response from the members of the compound. Most sounded a lot less enthused than their boss probably expected.
“How will you do that?”
“By shedding our blood and that of our children and that of the traitors.”
Susan blinked. Their blood, even their children’s, but not Ellers’s.
Of those she could see, the expression on his followers’ faces ranged from true zeal to sad resignation. Rafferty’s and his wife’s were the latter, as if they were trapped and had no way to get out.
Maybe I can change that.
“When will you give yourselves to this noble cause?” Ellers continued.
“When you command us to do so,” the others chanted.
“And what will be the result?”
“A free nation, clothed in liberty and justice.”
It was pure indoctrination. Repeat the same phrases, most likely day after day at the crack of dawn, and the message would sink in: an unintentional affirmation that these people were nothing more than cannon fodder for this man’s delusional fantasy. The Pledge of Allegiance came next. As they reached the end, Susan frowned, realizing it’d been changed. She replayed what she’d just heard.
‘. . . one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. . . who believe.”
“For all who believe?” she whispered. What did that mean?
Then Ellers tromped down the steps to take his place in front of them. “Are you working on my book?” he asked, his eyes on Bill.
“I am.”
“Be done tomorrow, will it?”
Lie, Bill. He hates challenges to his authority. Not delivering the manuscript on his insane time schedule would be just that.
“Yes,” the writer replied, sweat forming on his forehead, despite the chilly temperature.
Ellers looked over at the photographer now. “What about you? What pictures do you need?”
Keith swallowed hard. “I’ll need some of you, whatever parts of the compound you’re willing to reveal.”
“All of it! No reason to hold back.”
“But yesterday you said—”
“All of it! This will be our final battleground. We will all be martyrs here. No one will be left standing.”
Rafferty’s face paled as his hand sought his wife’s. Clearly, not everyone wanted to be on this crazy train.
“Once you get the photos,” Ellers said, “we’ll go through them, one by one. I’ll tell you which ones to keep and which ones to delete.”
Keith’s mouth twitched, but he wisely held his silence.
The commander’s attention moved to her. “You got any skills, woman?”
Like putting you behind bars, asshole?
“I can cook,” she replied. If she spent time with some of the women, she might be able to learn more, figure out how to get her people out of here alive.
“Maudie!”
“Yes, Commander,” an older woman replied, stepping forward. She wore a plain dress like the others, but Susan swore she saw a spark of defiance in the woman’s eyes.
“Take these two females and put them to work,” he said, jerking a thumb toward Susan and Patti.
“What about me?” Preston asked, his nerves causing him to fidget.
Susan gave Bill a quick look, and the message was passed.
“He could help me organize your notes,” Bill cut in. “You’ve got a lot of details in there, and I need to make sure they’re right in the final draft.”
“Do it then,” Ellers said dismissively. “Let me know if he isn’t pulling his weight, and we’ll take care of that problem.” He looked over the assemblage. “Where’s Sweetman?”
“Here, sir,” a man said, stepping forward. He seemed surprised that he’d been singled out.
Ellers waved him forward until the man was standing directly in front of him. “You got anything to confess?”
“What—ah, no, sir,” the man replied, but his eyes darted around, looking panicked.
Ellers gestured to one of the guards, who came forward, a bac
kpack in hand. “That yours?” Sweetman nodded.
“Dump it out.” The guard turned the pack upside down, and banded stacks of cash hit the ground, probably from the armed-car robbery. Apparently, James hadn’t turned in all the loot.
Ellers glowered. “I was told that Hardegree was bringing me fifty thousand dollars. Then I was told he skimmed some off the top so only twenty thousand made it to the camp. Now I find another twenty in your backpack. Why is that?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Sweetman said, backing up. He pointed at James, his hand quaking. “He told me to do it. Said I should kill that Hardegree guy and the woman.”
Ellers turned toward his nephew, an eyebrow raised. “James?”
“Not true,” the young man replied, but Susan heard the tremble in his voice.
“What? Wait! No, he’s lying,” Sweetman cried out. “He said I should kill them and hide the money, and then he’d make sure I got out of here safe, because you’re crazy and—”
“Silence!” Ellers bellowed.
Sweetman took another step back, only to bump into the solid bodies of the guards behind him, who pushed him back toward their leader. Sweetman shook in fear. “James, come on, man. Tell him!”
“How do we handle traitors in New America?” the commander demanded, his eyes blazing.
“Death!” someone called from the ranks.
“No! No, I swear he told me to—”
When Ellers placed the barrel of his gun against the man’s forehead, Susan buried Patti’s face in her chest. The single shot ensured that Sweetman was dead before he hit the ground.
“Oh my God,” Patti whimpered, shaking in fright.
“Anyone else think I’m crazy?” Ellers demanded, stomping up and down the ranks of his followers. “You?” A man shook his head vigorously. “What about you?” The woman he’d asked cowered in response.
He swung back toward the line of hostages. “Any one of you?”
Susan made sure to lower her eyes so he couldn’t see the “Hell, yes” that was in them. Apparently pleased he’d made his point, Ellers walked to his nephew.
“You try that bullshit with me again, and I’ll kill you. Doesn’t matter if you’re family or not. I demand absolute loyalty, you understand?” The young man gave a jerky nod. “Then get back to work on that project. I expect it to be done on time, even if you are my sister’s useless bastard.”
Holstering his weapon, Ellers climbed the steps to the porch. “Rafferty? Bring that money inside.” He slammed the door of the house behind him, missing the look of pure hate that James sent his way.
“Come on,” Maudie said, tugging on Susan’s arm. “Best to be out of sight until he calms down. Invisible is best. You live longer that way.”
“Unless you trust James, that is,” Susan said.
The woman eyed her. “That’s gospel, for sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brannon drifted on, keeping silent, searching for any additional markings that might indicate explosives or traps. Cait was still to his left, moving as silently as he was. She’d covered her blond hair with a dark handkerchief so it wasn’t as noticeable. Once night set in, he bet she’d vanish entirely into the landscape, just like he would.
She abruptly came to a halt, and her hand came up in a “stop” signal. He held his position, checking for any tangos. There weren’t any.
“What’s wrong?”
“IED. You need to move away,” she said, her eyes riveted on her feet.
Ah, fuck. “Pressure plate?”
“It’s near my left toe, and there’s a trip wire right behind that leg. I didn’t see it until it was too late.”
He moved toward her cautiously.
“Bran, back off!”
He ignored her, studying the situation. “You don’t do anything half assed, do you?”
She shook her head, fear in her eyes. But there was more there too: the cold acceptance of fate.
“Once this detonates, they’ll be out here in force. You need to go on with the mission.”
He judged the distance from the closest tree to where she stood. Perhaps there was a way to get her free.
“Bran,” she said, “are you listening to me?”
“I’m hearing you, but right now, I’m not buying what you’re telling me.”
“Why? This isn’t a survivable situation, Lieutenant. We both know that.”
Only now did he look up at her. “Because you want it to be that way?”
His blunt question rendered her speechless for a moment. “Maybe. At least the nightmares will end,” she admitted. “Ironic that some tin-pot dictator might have done me a favor.”
Brannon’s gut churned at the thought. “Trust me, someday the nightmares will give way to good dreams. Dreams of the future. Ones that come true.”
She glared at him. “What are you, my damned fairy godmother or something?”
He couldn’t stop the grin. “Something like that.”
“Please, Bran, go! I don’t want you hurt.”
He shook his head. “You see, that’s the problem. If I walk away and you die, I will be hurt. I’ll always remember your beautiful eyes, your full lips, how you cried out my name when we made love. You’re as much a part of me as my own heart, Caitlyn. If you die, I will always grieve deep inside.”
She blinked at him in shock.
“Now shut the hell up, Sergeant, and let me figure this out.”
Cait snapped her mouth closed and it formed into a tight white line.
He pulled off his rucksack and set it aside, then scaled the nearest tree, a big white oak. Bits of bark fell as he climbed, broken free by his fingers. Brannon peered down at her, then nodded to himself. Once he was back on the ground, he reached out his hand. “Remove your ruck and give it to me. Be careful not to shift your weight.”
“What are you going to do?” she demanded.
“Rescue a damsel in distress.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.” He saw the plea in her eyes. “Trust me, please.”
She heaved a sigh and gingerly removed her pack. When he took it from her, he was careful not to inadvertently alter her balance. “Stay put.”
“Like I’m going somewhere?” she snapped. “Other than that big recruitment center in the sky?”
Brannon would have laughed at that, but he was focusing on what was about to happen. If it went wrong, they’d both end up maimed or dead. He carried both of their rucksacks and the remainder of their gear about thirty feet away from the IED, then returned to where his companion stood immobile. Cautiously clearing the area around her of debris, he began to pile it up on Cait’s right side: fallen logs, brush, anything that might act as a shield from the blast. It was a piss-poor substitute for body armor, but it was all they had.
“Once I’m in place, I’ll do a count of three, and then I want you to jump toward me, grab my hand, and I’ll swing us both to the other side of this tree. We’re going to the ground hard and fast.”
“This isn’t going to work.”
“It has a chance. The IED has sunk into the ground at least a foot, so if we’re lucky the force of the blast will be directed up, not out.”
“Huh. You really think this is an option, Ranger?”
He swung himself back up into the tree. “Let’s find out, Marine.”
She looked up at him, and he saw a faint glimmer of hope.
“You were right, last night was special. Thank you,” Cait said softly.
God, she’s so strong, even now. “Then let’s make sure there’re more of those kinds of nights.” He extended his arm. “On three. One . . . two . . . three!”
As Cait sprang toward him, he clasped her arms in a circus hold and swung them around the broad tree with as much momentum as he could generate. Then they were fallin
g, hitting the ground hard, covering their heads.
But there was no explosion.
They stared at each other in shock for a brief second, then scrambled up and ran. Grabbing their rucksacks and gear, they continued their retreat.
“What the hell?” she muttered, brushing away the dirt as they kept moving. “Why didn’t it blow?”
“Whoever rigged it might not have had a clue. Or the rain got to it. Who knows?”
When he stopped and turned, she did as well. “I don’t know what it says when the bastards in the Middle East can build better bombs than our own insurgents can.”
“We’re offshoring everything nowadays,” Cait replied.
They grinned in unison, but her grin quickly faded.
“That was too damned close,” he said, touching her cheek.
“You didn’t know it wouldn’t explode. You risked your life for me.”
“You would have done the same.”
“Yeah, I would have.”
“Which means we might still get our time together at a fancy hotel on the beach.”
“You really liked last night, didn’t you?” she said.
“Oh hell, yes. Eager for more, sweetheart. In fact, let’s add in some time at my cabin up in Kentucky. You’ll like it up there. It’s really quiet.”
Suddenly, she grabbed onto Brannon and planted a scorching kiss on his lips, pulling him tight against her, molding her body to his as she plundered his mouth. When they stepped back, they were both breathless.
“Damn, Caitlyn. I will happily save your cute ass anytime you need if that’s what happens when I do.”
“You can get a kiss like that without risking your life.”
His breathing gradually evened out as they set off toward Ellers’s compound again.
“That’s the second time I’ve had an IED not explode,” Cait said.
As he opened his mouth to ask her the story, a dull explosion came from behind them. They turned as one and watched as the dirt and debris settled back down to the ground in a muddy cloud. The sharp crack of the oak tree heralded its demise, and it toppled over.
“Make that only one unexploded IED,” she muttered.
Killing Game (Veritas Book 2) Page 17
