Countdown

by Iris Johansen

  He nodded. “You’re right.” He got out of the SUV and moved toward the front door. “Come in. I have something to collect and I don’t have much time.” He gave her a faint smile. “Can’t waste that head start.”

  The furniture in the lodge consisted of a rickety wood table, two chairs, the propane heater Jock had mentioned, and, tossed in a corner, a moth-eaten sleeping bag. Jock lit the heater and then unrolled a state map on the table. He pointed to a spot in the north central corner of the state. “That’s where we are now.” He took off his gloves and skimmed his finger along the map to a spot near the Montana border. “That’s where Reilly’s headquarters is located. It used to be an old trading post, but Reilly bought it, remodeled, and added another two thousand square feet. The new addition is half underground, and that’s where Reilly’s personal quarters are located. He has a bedroom and office with a special records-filing room. Adjoining it is his favorite place, the antiquity room.”

  “Antiquity?”

  “He has an office with shelves containing all sorts of artifacts from Herculaneum and Pompeii. Records, ancient documents, books. Coins. Lots and lots of books of ancient coins.” He tapped another spot. “There’s a back door leading from this office to the helicopter landing pad.”

  “How many of his men are there?”

  “Usually only one or two guards at the most. The main training camp is across the Montana border. The only people who occupy the house are Reilly, Kim Chan, and the training prospect Reilly is most interested in at the moment.” His lips curved in a bitter smile. “His favorite.”

  “Like you.”

  “Like me.” He pointed at the camp across the border. “But if he gets a chance to call the camp, a swarm could come across that state line like killer bees. Tell Trevor not to let him make that call.”

  “Surprise?”

  “It’s hard to surprise him. He has video cameras in trees all over the woods surrounding the post and land mines planted at regular intervals. There’s a security room at the house where the cameras can be monitored and the land mines activated. Any stranger approaching would be an easy target.”

  “But could he see them coming in this snowstorm?”

  “Not well. But maybe well enough.”

  “And only a couple sentries?”

  “Sometimes not even that when I was here. With the video cameras it’s not necessary.” He moved toward a paneled wall across the room, placed his hands at two points, pressed, and a six-foot section slid back to reveal a cavity containing a large rectangular wooden box. “That’s the layout. Good luck to them.”

  “They’d have better luck if you’d wait and lead them to Reilly.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve given you all I can.” He lifted the lid of the box. “Come here.”

  She followed him across the room and looked down into the box. “Jesus, you have enough weapons here to start a war.” The box was filled with automatic rifles, hand grenades, knives, pistols . . .

  “Reilly always liked me to be prepared. He has weapon stashes all over the state. This one was closest to his headquarters. For every mission he’d send me here to choose the weapon of choice. I wasn’t sure the cache would still be here.” He smiled mirthlessly. “But why get rid of it when he was sure I’d never be able to function as a thinking human being again? He probably used it to train his current subject.” He took a pistol, rifle, wire, dynamite, and plastic explosives from the box. “You know how to use a gun?” When she nodded, he gave her the pistol and reached into the box for another for himself. “Keep it with you. Don’t lay it down for a minute.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  He handed back her cell phone. “You’re on your own.”

  “And so are you. It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “Yes, it does. Because I choose it. And, God, it’s good to be able to have the will to choose my own path.” He moved toward the door. “Stay here and be quiet and you’ll be safe.” The door opened and let in a blast of cold, snow-wet wind. The next moment he was gone.

  Gone after Reilly. Taking his head start and running with it. God help him.

  She flipped open her phone and dialed Trevor’s number.

  Stay where you are,” Trevor said. “We’re in Boise. We’ll get to you as soon as possible.”

  “I’m not going anywhere on my own. I’d be wandering around in the snow and probably set off one of Reilly’s booby traps or video cameras. Jock’s in enough danger without me putting that bastard on the alert.” She looked out at the falling snow. It seemed to be getting heavier. “Can’t you call Venable and get him to have the CIA or Homeland Security set up a ring around this entire area?”

  “Not until I know you’re safe.”

  “I’m safe now.”

  “The hell you are. You’re sitting on Reilly’s doorstep. Besides, they wouldn’t be able set up an operation that big in the blink of an eye. Particularly with all the conflict going on between the agencies. They might slip and tip off Reilly and cause him to call that Montana training camp Jock told you about. And if Reilly has as many bolt-holes as Jock claims, he could slip away from them.” She heard him say something away from the receiver. “MacDuff is looking at the map. It looks like you may be an hour by road. Fifteen minutes by air. We’re on our way. MacDuff says he’ll set up a helicopter if this damn weather permits.” She heard more conversation in the background. “Mario is renting an SUV with snow tires and heading out right away. One way or another, we’ll get to you.” He hung up.

  She felt a little warmer, comforted, as she pressed the disconnect. She wasn’t really alone. She could dial Trevor and hear his voice.

  Who was she kidding? She’d never been more alone in her life than she was in this rickety shack only miles from Reilly’s lair.

  Okay, but she had a weapon. Her hand grasped the hilt of the .357 Magnum more tightly.

  She propped a chair beneath the knob of the front door, curled up in the corner near the heater, and wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. That propane heater might save her from freezing, but it was pitifully inadequate for warmth.

  Come on, Trevor. Let’s get this bastard.

  There was someone near.

  Jock stopped, still, listening.

  He’d only gone a few hundred yards from the shack when he’d sensed . . . something.

  Now he could hear it too. The crunch of snow beneath a foot.

  Where?

  From the road, from where he’d come.

  Who? The sentries were always stationed around the house, not this far away. But Reilly might feel more cautious now that he was involved with Grozak.

  But if this was a sentry, he shouldn’t be able to hear him. Silence was paramount in Reilly’s training. Noise was clumsy, and Reilly didn’t permit clumsiness.

  Another step crunching the snow.

  Moving toward the shack where he’d left Jane.

  Dammit, he had no time for this.

  Make time.

  He whirled and moved silently over the snow.

  The driving snow kept him from seeing anything until he was only a few yards away.

  Up ahead, a dark blur. Tall, very tall, long legs . . .

  Gauge your distance.

  Silence.

  Remember, silence.

  Where were they? Surely an hour had passed since she’d called Trevor. Jane checked her watch. An hour and fifteen minutes. It wasn’t time to panic. The roads were terrible and the snow had increased in the last thirty minutes. It was pelting down now. Maybe Trevor’s estimate had been optimistic.

  A pounding on the door. “Jane!”

  She jerked upright. She knew that voice. Thank God, they were here. She jumped to her feet, ran across the room, and pushed the chair from beneath the doorknob. “What kept you? I was afraid—”

  The edge of a hand came down on her wrist, and the gun in her numbed hand fell to the floor.

  “Sorry, Jane.” Mario’s voice was regretful. “I wouldn�
��t have chosen to do this. Life can be a bitch.” He turned to the man standing next to him. “Delivered as promised, Grozak.”

  Grozak. Jane stared at the man uncomprehendingly for a moment. But these were the features of the man in the photo Trevor had shown her that day in the study. “Mario?”

  He shrugged. “It was necessary, Jane. You and Cira’s gold appear to be sharing the spotlight for the most popular prize with Grozak, and I had to—”

  “Stop yammering,” Grozak said. “I didn’t come here to have you waste my time.” He lifted the hand at his side and pointed a gun at Jane. “Out. We need to pay a visit to Reilly. I can’t tell you how eagerly he’s waiting for you.”

  “Screw you.”

  “I want you alive, but I really don’t care if you’re damaged. You can either come with me or I’ll shoot off your kneecap. I’m sure Reilly wouldn’t mind you helpless for what he has in mind.”

  Jane was still staring in disbelief at Mario. Mario a traitor?

  “Mario, you did this?”

  He shrugged. “Do what he says, Jane. We don’t have much time. I was afraid that Trevor would get here ahead of me, but they grounded his helicopter at a podunk airport near here and he’s scrambling for a rental car.”

  “I was disappointed,” Grozak said. “I was looking forward to turning you both over to Reilly. It would have been insurance.”

  “If Trevor shows up and I’m not here, he’ll call the authorities.”

  “If Trevor shows up, he’ll run into Wickman, and Wickman will be delighted to dispose of him before has a chance to call anyone.”

  “Wickman is here?”

  “He’ll be here. He was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago. The snow must have delayed him.” He smiled. “Now stop trying to delay me. I have a lot to do today. Tomorrow is showtime.”

  “You can’t get away this. You’re going down, Grozak.”

  Grozak chuckled. “Did you hear her, Mario? I’m pointing a gun at her, but I’m the one going down.”

  “I hear her.” He pointed the gun he’d taken from Jane at Grozak. “Actually, you are going down, Grozak.”

  He shot Grozak between the eyes.

  “My God.” Jane watched Grozak slump to the floor. “You killed him. . . .”

  “Yes.” Mario gazed down at Grozak with no expression. “Isn’t it strange? I thought I’d feel some satisfaction, but I don’t. He shouldn’t have killed my father that way. I told Grozak that I had no affection for him and that he could dispose of him if he needed to do it. But he shouldn’t have done it that way. It disturbed me. It made it very . . . personal.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Patricide is very personal.”

  “I never considered him my father. Maybe as a small child. But he went away and left my mother and me in that stinking village where we both had to work from morning to night just to stay alive.”

  “Desertion shouldn’t mean a death sentence.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t plan it that way. Grozak wasn’t even certain he’d have to do it. Only if he thought my position might need reinforcing. But he couldn’t touch anyone at the castle, and I wasn’t making the progress with the scrolls he needed in finding the gold. I was the only one who might be able to do what he needed at the castle. So I had to be completely suspicion-free.”

  She shook her head. “But I know you were shocked when it happened. No one could be that good an actor.”

  “I was shocked. I had orders to have no communication with Grozak unless it was to tell him that I knew where to find the gold. He didn’t want me to blow my cover. Laudable plan, and I suppose it did make my reaction to my father’s death more realistic. Bastard.”

  “You were working for Grozak all along?”

  “From the day Trevor hired me. I was due to leave for the Run the next morning, but Grozak paid me a visit that night and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “The gold?”

  He nodded. “But I soon found out that was a lie. Why should he give me the gold when he could use it as a bargaining chip?”

  “Why indeed?”

  “Actually, I was very popular that night. Reilly called me too and told me he’d give me a bonus if I could let him know when Jock left the castle. He evidently didn’t trust Grozak. I didn’t trust the cheap bastard either. So I had to start making plans of my own.”

  “A little double-dealing?”

  “It was obviously the way the game was played. After we left the Run I called Grozak and told him that you were heading for the U.S. I also called Reilly to make a deal of my own. Reilly wanted to make sure Jock didn’t talk and he wanted either you or the gold. Or both.”

  “And that’s why you wanted that time with Jock. Were you planning on killing him?”

  He frowned. “Not if I was sure he wasn’t going to remember. I’m not like Grozak or Reilly. I don’t kill indiscriminately. And if Jock did remember, Wickman was watching the chalet from the foothills and I could have called him to take care of it.”

  “But Jock fooled you. He didn’t tell you that he’d remembered. Was Grozak upset with you?”

  “Yes, but Wickman was following you. I told Grozak that he should let Jock take you into the lion’s den and I’d let him know when and where to pick you up.”

  “And that’s what you did.”

  He shook his head sadly. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to do this. But I’m not like you. I need nice things. A fine house, beautiful old books, paintings. It’s a hunger.”

  “It’s corruption.”

  “Perhaps.” He motioned with the gun. “But I’ll probably appear pristine-clean to you after you meet Reilly. I understand he’s a very unpleasant man.”

  “You’re really taking me to Reilly?”

  “Of course, and very quickly.” He checked his watch. “Trevor and MacDuff won’t waste time. They should be on my heels.”

  “Why are you doing this? You can’t get away with it.”

  “But I can. I turn you over to Reilly. I tell him the info about the gold that was in that last Cira scroll and where to find the transcript at the Run. He gives me the money he promised me and I take off. If I run into Trevor and MacDuff, I tell them Reilly has you and that I was on my way to the police.”

  “And I’ll tell them exactly what you did.”

  “I doubt if you’ll get the opportunity. Reilly will get out of this and probably take you with him. He’s spent half his life preparing hideouts and bolt-holes, and the CIA hasn’t been able to find him for the last decade. There’s no reason to think they’ll succeed this time.” He motioned again. “No time for talk. We have to move.”

  “If I don’t, I suppose you’re threatening to shoot off my kneecaps too?”

  “I’d hate to do it. I’m very fond of you, Jane.”

  But he would do it. A man who’d stand by and let his father be butchered would have no real compunction. She’d probably have a better chance with Reilly. At any rate, standing here with his gun pointed at her was a lose-lose situation. She started toward the door. “Let’s go. We wouldn’t want to keep Reilly waiting.”

  The snow was stinging cold as he opened the door. Mario led her past the three cars parked before the shack.

  “Aren’t we going to drive?”

  Mario shook his head. “Reilly said that unless you had the deactivation codes for the driveway, the car would set off the explosives. And there was no way he was going to give those codes out. He said to walk through the woods. I was to call him as soon as I reached them and he’d turn off the booby traps as the video cameras showed us coming through the trees.”

  She could barely see three feet ahead of her through the snow. How the devil could Reilly see anything on camera?

  “Change your mind, Mario,” she said over her shoulder. “So far the only criminal thing you’ve done is kill a murderer.”

  “And become an accessory to a terrorist. They either shoot you or put you in jail and throw away the key for th
at. I made a choice that night when Grozak hired me. I was going to be rich. I can still make it work.” He halted. “Stop. We’ve almost reached the tree line.” He dialed his phone. “Mario Donato, Reilly. I’ve got her. We’re coming in.” He listened for a moment. “Okay.” He hung up the phone. “We’re going to have a welcoming committee when we reach the house. Kim Chan and Reilly’s latest protégé, Chad Norton.” He grimaced. “Another Jock. Another weakling.”

  “Jock isn’t a weakling. He’s a victim.”

  “He has to have a basic flaw in his character to be manipulated like that.”

  “You don’t think it could happen to you?”

  “No way.” He gestured with the gun. “And I doubt if it can happen to you.”

  “But you’re willing to let Reilly try.”

  “If you turn out to be of the same weakling stock, then you’ll deserve it.” He smiled. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and that half-wit Jock will save you.” He nodded at the woods ahead. “Move.”

  She hesitated. Once she reached that tree line the video cameras would pick her up and she’d be in Reilly’s court.

  “Jane.”

  “I’m going.” She started toward the woods. “I respect that gun. I’m not about to let you shoot—” She spun, her leg lifted in a roundhouse kick. Her boot hit the gun, sending it flying, and she followed through with another kick to Mario’s gut. “Weakling? You son of a bitch.”

  He grunted and fell to his knees.

  She hit him in the back of the neck and he fell to the ground. “You egocentric excuse for a—”

  Christ, he’d fallen too close to the gun. He was reaching for it!

  She dove into the snow. Her hand closed on the handle. It was cold, wet, slippery. . . .

  He was on top of her, reaching down to grab the gun from her. “Bitch. You are a weakling. Reilly will be—”

  She pulled the trigger.

  He jerked upright like a marionette, gazing down at her in disbelief. “You—shot—me.” A tiny rivulet of blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. “Hurts . . .” He collapsed on top of her. “Cold . . . cold. Why am I—” He shuddered and went still.