Black Ops Chronicles: Dead Run

by O'Neal, Pepper

  “However it happened, I’m grateful for any help I can get. If Tony’s in Las Cruces, I have to find him before Tess gets there, or it may be too late. Let me know as soon as you find out where the driver’s taking her.” Levi disconnected and went to the cockpit. “How long to Las Cruces?”

  “A little over two hours, sir.”

  “Good.” Finally, a little luck. For once he’d beat her to the destination. Now, if he just knew where to go when he got there.

  He rang Jonas back. “Let’s get Wilson involved in this. He might be able to get a warrant so we can stop the hired car before she gets to Las Cruces. After all, Tess is a witness against Tanner, if he’s ever found, and Wilson needs her alive if Nick goes to trial.”

  “I’ll call him. He was helpful in contacting the Canadian authorities, so he shouldn’t have a problem with this. Although he’ll probably have some questions unless I tell him the whole truth. Do you want me to do that? I don’t want you in jail for murder if you take out Tony.”

  “If he’ll help us find her, I’ll take my chances on anything else. If Tony’s going to kill her, he’ll use a weapon, whether it’s a knife or a gun. So that’ll make it self-defense. But don’t worry about me, just call him.”

  “I’ll do it right now,” Jonas promised. “Oh, before you go. I forgot to tell you when we were talking before, but the security guard at the Santa Fe airport told me something else.”

  “What was it?”

  “He said Tess stopped at an airport shop and bought packing tape. The guard overheard her ask for duct tape, but I guess all the shop had was packing tape.”

  “What did she want with duct tape?”

  “I was hoping you’d know.”

  “Sorry, old man, I don’t have a clue.” Levi shook his head as he disconnected. Duct tape? What the hell could Tess want with duct tape?

  CHAPTER 21

  12:24 p.m., Las Cruces International Airport, La Cruces, New Mexico:

  A man in an airport security uniform approached Levi the minute he walked into the terminal. “Mr. Komakov?” When he nodded, the man motioned him forward. “This way, sir. The people they sent to meet you are waiting for you in a private lounge.”

  “The people they sent,” Levi echoed as he fell into step beside him. “Who’s ‘they’?”

  “No idea, sir,” the guard replied. “I was just given a description of you and the tail number of your private plane. Asked to meet you and bring you here.”

  He stopped before a door down the hall from the security office. Levi thanked him and entered a small lounge where four men sat, drinking coffee. Three wore SWAT team uniforms and appeared to be in their mid-twenties. They looked as if a hundred pushups wouldn’t raise a drop of sweat on any of them.

  The fourth man was older, probably late thirties, with hard, intelligent eyes. Twenty pounds overweight, he wore a dark suit and striped tie.

  “I’m Special Agent Mark Wagner of the local FBI office,” he announced. He shook hands, his grip as firm as his rich baritone voice. “These three gentlemen are here as a favor to Mr. McKenzie,” he explained. “And I’m here because Special Agent Wilson wants me to cover your ass.”

  Levi headed for the coffee pot. “In what way?”

  “Wilson figured if he made this an FBI operation, you wouldn’t have to answer so many embarrassing questions afterwards.”

  “I see.” Levi sipped his coffee and studied Wagner’s face. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but do you mind telling me why?”

  “Wilson checked out your background—the part that’s not classified, that is—and he thinks you’re on the up and up. He figures since this Tony Anderson character and his partner were working with terrorists, you’d be doing us a favor by taking him out. Because right now, our hands are tied.” Wagner’s tone was equal parts disgust and frustration. “Ms. Horton went to meet him of her own free will and, as for his other crimes, it’s his word against McKenzie’s. A good attorney could blow our case out of the water. Unless he kills the girl. Then it’ll be too late.”

  Raising his voice, he added. “If Anderson escapes, he’ll likely hook up with more terrorists. So if anyone gets a shot at this asshole, take him out. Shoot to kill. If he’s not armed, we’ll put a gun in his hand when it’s over.” At the chorus of surprised gasps, he shrugged. “The FBI’s had enough of terrorism.”

  “That certainly makes it easier,” Levi said, while the others murmured agreement. “Thanks.”

  “Thank Wilson.” Wagner opened his briefcase and took out a file folder. “We can’t find a connection between Anderson and anyone in Las Cruces. But here’s a list of new rentals in the last three weeks. We’re checking them out but, with a city this size, that takes time.”

  He handed the file to Levi. “We could issue a warrant for Horton and stop the hired car before it gets to its destination. However, Wilson figured you’d like to end this once and for all, since apparently Anderson won’t stop, even if his current scheme falls through. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Levi winced. He hated using Tess as bait, but he had no choice. As long as Tony was alive, she’d be in danger. “I guess we wait for the driver to call in the address when he gets to Las Cruces. But that won’t give us much time.”

  “We’ve got a helicopter standing by out on the tarmac, loaded with all the weapons and gear you’ll need,” Wagner said, looking Levi over. “I assume that you’ll want to be on the front lines with these kids.” He waved a hand at the SWAT team members. “And you probably have weapons and gear in your plane?”

  “And if I do?”

  Wagner smiled. “Well, if you want to go out and play in the traffic, I guess it’s your neck. But I’d rather you use the gear and weapons we’ve provided. It’ll be cleaner that way.” He headed for the door. “Let’s go out to the chopper, and while we wait to find out where we’re going, we can get you into your gear.”

  Levi was pleased to see the helicopter was an MD600N—quiet enough not to alert Tony unless they landed almost on top of him. They waited inside the chopper for almost two hours before Wagner’s cell phone rang. He listened for a minute, scribbled something on a notepad, and handed it to the pilot.

  “The driver got the address. It’s on the outskirts of town. He’s about ten minutes out and headed there now. We’re about twenty minutes away, so let’s move it.”

  As the pilot fired up the chopper, Levi buckled his safety harness, hoping like hell that Tony was in the mood to gloat for a bit before he got down to business.

  ***

  2:39 p.m., the outskirts of Las Cruces, New Mexico:

  The car pulled up to the curb and stopped. Tess stared out the window.

  “This is it,” the driver said when he opened the back door. “Number 13414.”

  She swallowed. “Thank you.”

  Unzipping her backpack, she pulled out what was left of the roll of tape she’d bought at the airport in Santa Fe and dropped it on the seat. She climbed out of the car and gave the driver a generous tip in hopes he wouldn’t squawk about the tape. He didn’t.

  Despair settled over her as she watched him drive away. She left her backpack unzipped. Maybe Tony would be content with searching it and not frisk her too thoroughly. The only weapon he’d find in her bag was her sock full of coins.

  The packing tape securing the pocket gun to her upper back at the base of her neck itched and pulled on her skin. Ignoring the discomfort, she ran a hand through her hair, making sure it covered the pistol. Just be careful how you move your head, she reminded herself.

  Trying hard not to think about what would happen next, she looked around at the neighborhood.

  A group of young children played in the yard of a house across the street. Their cheerful squeals and screams echoed in the quiet suburb. One small boy smiled and waved at her. A man pruning a hedge leaned over it to hand the children a ball.

  Down the block, a three-hundred-pound woman in a muu-muu stood on her front porch yelling, “Shut u
p, shut up,” at the barking dog next door. Her shouts set off every dog within earshot.

  All-American normal. Middle-class safe. Tess had always dreamed about a home in a place like this. A husband, children, a cat or two, maybe a dog, and silly, imperfect neighbors.

  Don’t be maudlin. Just get this over with. Allowing herself only one small shudder, she headed up the walkway of the modern, one-story, number 13414.

  White with blue trim, it looked ordinary and harmless, with no forewarning of the horror she knew awaited her.

  Fresh terror seized her as she approached the front door. She couldn’t make herself ring the bell. Remember Max. The thought strengthened her spine. Forcing her arm out, she pushed the button.

  No answer. She hit the bell a second time, checked the address, and rang again. When there was still no response, she tried the door. Unlocked. She pushed it open.

  “Tony?”

  She stepped inside and closed the door. The house felt empty, unlived in. Oh, God, had the driver mistaken the address? She crossed the small foyer to a living room and looked in. Unfurnished, except for a cell phone lying on the floor. She stared at it. What the—?

  It rang. She jumped. Shit! Not another trip! Swallowing her frustration, she picked up the phone. “Tony?”

  “Hello, Tess. I see you made it.”

  “Where the hell are you, and where’s Max?” she demanded, pushed past her limit. “Enough with the games. Let’s end this. Now.”

  “Soon. Real soon. I want you to go back outside and come to number 13418.”

  “Will you be there this time?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  “All this bullshit’s getting anticlimactic. By the time you actually kill me, I won’t even be scared anymore. You are planning on killing me, aren’t you? Or are you just going to run me around in circles until I die of boredom?”

  “Don’t be a smartass. You’ll piss me off.”

  “Really? Gee, I’m shaking now. What’re you going to do, kill me twice?”

  “I told you to watch your mouth,” he hissed into the phone. The fury in his voice gave her immense satisfaction. “Now, get your ass to number 13418.” He hung up with a crash.

  “Right.” Out of sheer orneriness, she dropped the cell phone on the floor. If Tony wanted the damn thing back, he could come and get it himself.

  She headed out the door. A couple of the kids across the street stopped their game to watch her, curiosity shining in their faces. “I know, I know,” she muttered under her breath. “It looks like I don’t have a clue.”

  She checked house numbers then headed down two doors. Other than the fact that this house was gray, it looked as mundane as the last one. But when she rang the bell, Tony’s voice called out, “It’s not locked, Tess. Come on in.”

  Slumping in both relief and despair, she rested her head on the doorjamb. The games were finished, the nightmare beginning. With a silent prayer for strength, she opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind her.

  ***

  Levi checked his watch. If the driver of the hired car had been right about his ETA, Tess would’ve already been with Tony for seven minutes. More than long enough for him to kill her.

  He felt the weight of every second as the chopper zoomed toward the suburbs. Though he knew the pilot was making all possible speed, it seemed like they were flying through molasses. In winter. “Are you sure your pilot knows where he’s going?”

  “Don’t sweat it. This pilot moonlights for a television news station and knows Las Cruces well. He’ll get us there.”

  Levi took a deep breath and nodded then pushed his fear, rage, and love for Tess to the back of his mind where it couldn’t interfere with the mission.

  The helicopter banked right, circled once, then touched down in the middle of a quiet residential street. The team piled out.

  Wagner grabbed Levi’s arm. “There it is. The white one with blue trim.”

  The men ran down the street, charged up the walk, and burst through the front door. Greeted by silence, the team searched the house then stared at each other.

  Wagner pulled out his cell phone.

  Levi grabbed the one lying on the living room floor. “Tony’s sent her somewhere else,” he said.

  “He can’t have.” Wagner snapped his phone shut. “The driver said he let her off in front of this house not ten minutes ago.”

  “There could’ve been another car waiting for her. If so, someone here must’ve seen it.” Levi headed back outside. Seeing a group of kids playing in a yard across the street, he rushed over. “Hey guys, I’m looking for a woman with red hair. She came to that house over there about ten minutes ago. Any of you kids see her?”

  “I have red hair.” A darling little girl about five years old with big brown eyes and strawberry blonde curls ran up to him and took his hand. “Who are you, mister?”

  A dark-haired boy, older than the girl by two or three years, grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her away. “You’re not a woman, silly. You’re still just a baby.”

  “I’m not a baby!” she squealed, jerking away from him.

  Suspicion burning in his eyes, the boy studied Levi. “Maybe I saw her. Maybe I didn’t. Whatcha want her for?”

  “She’s in trouble, and I’m trying to help her. Did she get into a car and drive away?”

  “You talk funny. Where’re you from?”

  “England.” Levi knew if he let his impatience show, the boy wouldn’t cooperate. “Did you see what kind of car she left in?”

  “Where’d you guys get the guns and the helicopter? Are you a cop?”

  “No, I—”

  “I am.” Wagner stepped up beside Levi and held out his badge. “FBI. If you saw the woman, son, we need to know where she went.”

  “Is that a real badge?” one of the other children asked.

  The whole group gathered around, talking over one another, firing off questions, and making inane comments.

  Levi ignored the bedlam and stayed focused on the first little boy. “She’s my friend, and I’m trying to save her life. If you saw her leave, please tell me.”

  The boy pointed across the street. “Is that why you crashed through the Johnsons’ door without knocking?”

  “Yes, but the Johnsons weren’t home, so I can’t ask them.” Levi forced himself to keep his voice calm and polite, despite the fear and rage seething inside him. “Will you help me?”

  “The Johnsons don’t live there anymore. Their house is for rent.” The kid jumped as a woman came storming out of the house, demanding to know what was going on. “The lady didn’t drive away,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She came out of the Johnsons’ house and went down to the Jones’s. Their house is for rent, too, but it’s got furniture and stuff in it.” He pointed to a gray house with white trim two doors further down the street. “She hasn’t come out of that one yet.”

  Levi gave the boy’s shoulder a quick pat. “Thanks, champ. Two houses down, same side,” he called to the team.

  Leaving Wagner to deal with the irate mother, he started off at a run. He hadn’t gone more than two strides before a distant gunshot stopped him cold. “God, no! We’re too late!”

  ***

  Standing in the dim light of the foyer in house number 13418, Tess thought she heard the faint rotor noise of a helicopter. Probably a news crew covering a story in a neighboring suburb, she decided, or cops on a drug raid, perhaps. Not that it mattered. Whoever they were, they were too far away to be any help.

  She touched the gun at the base of her neck. She’d leave it hidden until after Max had been released. Then...well, then, she’d use it if she had to.

  “I’m in the living room, Tess,” Tony called out. “What are you waiting for? Come and join me.”

  She saw part of the living room off to one side and a bit of a kitchen off to the other. Forcing herself to ignore the frantic beating of her heart and the trembling in her knees, she set her teeth, lifted her
chin, and crossed the foyer.

  Pleasant and cozy—as if in defiance of Tony’s intentions—the living room contained an overstuffed sofa and rocking chair, a vase of dried flowers on an ebony coffee table, and a small matching end table bearing a heavy, old-fashioned Tiffany lamp. A television sat on a stand in one corner. In the wall across from her was a gray-stone fireplace. An antique clock, two wrought-iron candlesticks, and a pistol rested on the simple wooden mantle.

  Despising the weakness that had a sickening trail of sweat oozing down her back, Tess clutched the strap on her backpack for support. The old clock on the mantle announced each passing second with a quiet, pitiless tick as it counted down the minutes.

  Tony sat on the sofa, his eyes as cold and hard as glacier ice. He got up and came toward her, a cruel, smug smile on his movie-star-handsome face. Tess stood motionless. Waiting.

  He reached out and caressed her cheek with unexpected tenderness. Another game, she decided. She slapped his hand and backed away from him.

  “I’m here, Tony, now call whomever you need to, and tell them to let Max go.”

  “First things, first.” He grabbed her arm and jerked her to him. “Where’s the gun?”

  She cringed as his free hand slipped under her shirt to search around her waistband. “What gun?”

  “I find it hard to believe you didn’t bring a gun.”

  He pulled the backpack off her shoulder and tossed it on the floor. Turning her around, he frisked her, his hand running up her sides and under her arms then up the inside and outside of her legs. But he didn’t delve into her hair.

  She turned to watch as he picked up the backpack and pawed through it. He grunted over the sock of coins but left them where they were. Then he tossed the bag back on the floor.

  “You really came unarmed?”

  “You tell me. You frisked me. Now let Max go.”

  “In a minute. There’s something I want from you first.” Quick as a snake, he yanked her against him. “Kiss me,” he ordered as his mouth descended.