by Kim Baldwin
“Anyway,” Kat continued, “Garner told me he wanted to send me to a special school to learn to be an operative for the government. I’d be trained in weapons, infiltration techniques, close-quarter combat. It was attractive to me, because I thought I could use those skills to do the one thing that I’d been dreaming about for years. Kill the men who murdered my father.
“So I went to the Academy and learned several different ways to kill people, among other things. By this time I trusted Garner, so I told him who I really was and what I wanted to do. Somehow he found the men who killed my father. And he made all the arrangements so I could get in and out of Cyprus safely. I got my revenge. And then I owed Garner. I started to work for him.”
As she opened her mouth to continue, they heard Scout’s muffled shout through the wall. It was just loud enough to be able to make out the words. “I’ll find you,” the voice shrieked. “The longer it takes, the worse it will be for you!”
A shiver ran up Riley’s spine at the words. She once again envisioned Sam’s brutal murder.
Kat felt the tension in the other woman’s body. She stroked Riley’s hair. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”
They listened for another minute or two but could hear no more voices from outside the hidden chamber.
But Kat’s sensitive hearing did pick up something, although it took her several seconds to identify what it was. Faint noises a few feet down the wall from where they lay. “Stay still and keep quiet,” she whispered. She took a moment to wrap the thin survival blanket around Riley before she crept toward the area where the sounds originated.
Kat put her ear to the wall. Indistinct but steady sounds. Moving slowly down the wall at knee height. She’s pulling books off the shelves.
It wasn’t that Kat didn’t expect this might happen, but she didn’t think Scout would be quite so quick about it. Kat went to one of her safes and pulled out her MP5 submachine gun, which was capable of firing single shots, three-shot bursts, or full automatic fire—800 rounds per minute.
She loaded the MP5 and slung the strap across her shoulder before returning to the wall. The sounds had moved higher—about to the height of Kat’s head. They were still moving steadily down the length of the wall. Kat thought she heard a muffled curse from the other side but couldn’t be certain. Abruptly, the sounds stopped.
When the noises hadn’t resumed after a minute, Kat returned to Riley.
“What’s happening? Can you tell?”
“Scout was pulling books off the shelves looking for us, but she’s stopped now. My guess is she’s done all she can reach. The latch is a couple of shelves higher.” Kat laid the submachine gun on the concrete floor and scooped Riley up, blanket and all.
“I want you over in the corner,” she whispered. “Away from the door.” Kat set Riley down so she was sitting up with her back against the wall. She opened the blanket and removed the bulletproof vest. “I want you to put this on,” she said, then realized the cast was too big to get through the armhole. “That’s no good,” she amended. “Well, put your right arm through, anyway,” she prompted, and Riley complied. The vest was very big on her and could be closed over the cast if Riley just kept her injured arm at her side, pinned against her body. It was snug and uncomfortable, but Kat hoped it wouldn’t be for very long.
“Kat, you should wear it. You’ll be in more danger than I will,” Riley pleaded.
“No arguments. I’ll be distracted less if I know you’re as safe as I can make you.” Kat’s head jerked abruptly back toward the wall when the faint sounds resumed, several inches higher. “Keep very quiet,” she whispered. She picked up the MP5 and moved to the door. She put the gun on full automatic. Shouldn’t be long now.
*
It took Frank only a few minutes to thoroughly search the bathroom. But he lingered there, pacing back and forth, trying to think of a way out of this mess. He could hear Scout’s grunts of rage and frustration from the living room, along with the muted cadence of books hitting the floor or crashing against the wall. Every now and then, he’d stick his head out of the door to watch her.
*
Scout attacked the bookshelves with single-minded fury until the living room was in chaos. Books were scattered everywhere. Torn pages littered the floor. The coffee table and easy chair were overturned. And almost everything breakable—Kat’s cameras, the photographs on the walls—had been smashed into bits.
The bunker grew silent.
Frank peeked out of the bathroom doorway.
Scout stood before the bookshelves, breathing heavily.
“Get in here!” she commanded.
Otter appeared in the bedroom doorway as Frank emerged from the bathroom. They glanced at each other, and Otter started to speak, but Scout cut him off.
“Anything?”
The men shook their heads.
“You!” she gestured to the taller man with her gun. “What’s your name again?”
“Frank.”
“Come over here and pull out the rest of these. Look for a way through the wall,” she ordered, waving the gun toward the bookshelves. Only the top two still contained books. The rest were empty.
Frank negotiated his way through the disarray and began clearing the lower of the two shelves, dropping the books on the floor. He glanced over his shoulder as Scout plopped down onto the couch behind him. Small beads of sweat glistened on her forehead.
She turned toward Otter, who leaned against the bedroom door frame watching her. “You. Go search the kitchen.”
Otter nodded and headed toward it. He had to briefly pass behind her, and she watched him as he did.
It was while Scout’s attention was on Otter that Frank began clearing the top shelf. He had to reach above his head. He removed The Secret Garden, and his fingertips lightly grazed the button that unlocked the hidden door.
Chapter Forty-Three
Frank’s eyes widened and he froze, just for a moment, when he realized what he’d likely found.
Scout didn’t see it. By the time she looked back at Frank, he was progressing on down the wall as if nothing had happened.
Frank got to the end, removed the last book, and turned toward Scout. He could tell she’d not noticed that he’d found what they were searching for. He shrugged. “Nothing,” he said, just a little too loudly. “I don’t think they’re back there.”
Scout waved the gun toward the desk. “Try over there. See if those monitors come out of the wall.”
Frank nodded and did as he was told. Now what do I do with this interesting little bit of information?
*
Kat’s hearing was hypersensitive by the time the faint sounds neared the location of the button that would expose them. She pressed her ear against the panel. The sounds seemed to pause there briefly, but then continued on. She faintly heard Frank’s voice and realized it had been he who had been removing the books. He told Scout he’d not found anything, yet she was fairly certain he had. What are you up to?
Kat remained where she was for several more minutes until it seemed the immediate threat had passed. She heard nothing more from the outer room. She kept the submachine gun with her but returned to Riley’s side.
“We need to be quiet now. Try to rest,” she whispered as she sat down and put her arm around Riley.
Riley leaned into the crook of Kat’s shoulder and closed her eyes, letting her exhaustion overtake her.
Kat remained vigilant, the MP5 on the floor beside her.
As she drifted off, Riley thought about the life she’d had and what she wanted now. She wondered what else there was to Kat’s story. And what do you want, Kat, when we get out of this? We have so much to talk about, she wanted to say, but she was too far into sleep to speak.
Kat should have been plotting their escape, but her mind was preoccupied with Riley. There was still so much she hadn’t told her. Kat hadn’t admitted that much of what Garner initially had told her had been a lie. She hadn’t worked for the governme
nt. Not officially. She was one of a group of expendable, anonymous trained killers assigned to jobs that neither law enforcement nor the military could do.
Some of the money for Garner’s group surely came from government coffers, but she also got assignments that were paybacks. Hits financed by rich individuals who had scores to settle but couldn’t get their own hands dirty.
She’d taken the assignments until she’d felt she’d long paid her debt to Garner. Then she went freelance so she could make her own decisions on what jobs she would take. Only targets who were dangerous and unredeemable. People who had done things that earned them no mercy.
Garner had exploded when she told him her decision. His tirade and threats of retribution finally made her see that he was not the father figure she’d believed, but a manipulator who cared only about how her talents could be exploited. After she left his office that day, she dropped out of sight.
Apparently her former mentor had now decided to make good on his threats and make her an example to others who wanted to leave. The contract on her life was only a surprise because of its timing. More than five years had elapsed since she’d left Garner’s employ. Why now, Evan?
Kat’s attention was diverted by a muffled clatter from the other room. It had a discordant musicality to it, and she realized with a heartsick certainty that her prized cello had become the latest target of Scout’s rage.
*
By 5:00 a.m., Scout was ready to give in to exhaustion. She hadn’t slept in nearly two days. Her anger over having been outsmarted had initially kept her focused on the search for the two women. But she was struggling to keep her eyes open, and she couldn’t stop yawning. She needed sleep. She couldn’t afford to be careless.
Frank and Otter sat on the couch, having just completed a third search of the tunnel. Otter leaned back and closed his eyes. Frank eyed Scout warily, awaiting her next orders.
She stood with her back to the bookshelves, her head less than five feet from the button that would admit her to the hidden room.
Frank resisted the temptation to look toward the spot.
“I want you two to go outside and search for tracks. Get warm stuff on, you’ll be out there a while.” She nodded toward the tunnel.
The men suited up, and Scout handed Otter a flashlight.
“Up there.” She pointed toward the emergency exit with her gun.
He started climbing.
“I’ll keep an eye on the monitors,” she called up to Otter as he exited the hatch. “Come back in two hours unless you find something earlier.”
“All right.”
Scout turned to Frank. “Go up and lock the hatch. You’re going out the other way.”
He did as instructed.
When he returned, Scout motioned Frank toward the generator room. She punched in the code to open the outer door, shielding the panel from him so he would not know how to get back in. “Two hours.” She handed him a flashlight and shut the door behind him.
She returned to the living room and went to the monitors. Both men were still in camera range near the exits, as though reluctant to wander far from the bunker. Scout didn’t think they’d find anything. She was convinced the two women were hiding somewhere inside. But the men’s absence would at least allow her to rest. Her hopes now hinged on the arrival of Katarzyna’s friend in less than six hours. Perhaps Kenny would be incentive enough for her quarry to come out of hiding.
Scout went into the bedroom and locked the door. She lay down on the bed for a short nap, gun in hand. If that doesn’t work, I know something else I bet will. Fire. She didn’t want to resort to it unless she had to. Scout wanted her enemy to know who she really was and how clever she had been. And she wanted the satisfaction of seeing Katarzyna’s face as she died.
Fire would be much too quick.
*
Frank and Otter spent several minutes checking around the exits before ranging farther with their flashlights. Neither worried about being able to find his way back. It had stopped snowing, and the tracks they made were easy to follow. Both remembered how to get from one exit to the other, so they worked their way toward each other.
Frank had no intention, at least not yet, of divulging where he believed Hunter was hiding. Still, his attitude toward Otter had softened somewhat since they had been chained together, and he wanted to see if the other man had any ideas.
Otter knew his chances of getting out of this were greatly increased if he and Frank worked together.
The two men were drawn to each other’s flashlight beams and met under the shelter of a large evergreen.
“Find anything?” Otter asked.
“Nothing. You?”
“Nah. I don’t think they got out. But damned if I can figure out where they went, either. Hunter’s got a hell of a hiding place.” The cold air was helping Otter fight off the drowsiness that had threatened to overtake him in the bunker. “I’m worried about what Blondie’s gonna do when she accepts she ain’t going to find ’em. She’s nuts.”
Frank nodded.
“And she’ll have no further use for us,” Otter added.
“Yeah, I thought about that, too. Got any ideas?”
“I’d like to just take off right now,” Otter said. “But I had a hard enough time getting here. Without a snowmobile and a path to follow, I don’t like our chances in this cold. I have to say this—Hunter picked a good spot to hide.”
“Yeah,” Frank answered. “I haven’t a clue how to get out of here either. And if we tried, Scout could track us down pretty easy if she wanted to.”
“So that’s out,” Otter agreed. “At least for now. I looked for a map while we were searching but didn’t find one. I did grab this.” He pulled a large crescent wrench from the pocket of his coveralls. “I’ll hit her if I get a chance. But she’s been pretty careful.”
“Yeah. I’ve been wondering if she sent us out here just to get rid of us. You don’t think she’ll keep us locked out, do you?” Frank asked.
“Who knows with that broad? I think we should look for a chance to jump her when we get back in. We could load up a couple of snowmobiles with food, water, and extra gas. It’ll be light soon. Easier to see where we’re going even if we don’t know what direction to take. We gotta hit a house or somethin’ eventually.”
Frank nodded. “Okay. I’m with you.” He thought it a reasonable plan if they could overpower Scout. But he would also look for a chance to use the information he had. He hoped Scout wasn’t even now rechecking the bookshelves, but he thought it unlikely.
The men split up and resumed their search of the woods around the bunker. At 7:00 a.m., as the sun was coming up, each man returned to the exit he’d used and waited to be let back in.
A half hour passed.
Then an hour.
Still no Scout.
Both men fidgeted impatiently, wondering whether she did indeed intend to leave them there outside in the cold to fend for themselves.
*
Scout awoke groggy. She glanced at her watch, surprised she had slept so deeply and so long. It was nearly 10:00, and Kenny was due in an hour. She stretched. Her stomach rumbled loudly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything.
She went into the living room and glanced at the monitors. Frank leaned against the rock wall, waiting to be let back in. Otter was nowhere to be seen, but the area around the hatch was well trampled with footprints. She wondered whether he’d been dumb enough to take off, but decided it really didn’t matter.
She threaded her way through the books on the floor and made her way to the kitchen. A little breakfast, then she’d think about whether she had any further use for Frank.
*
Riley had napped, but fitfully. Her fears and anxiety kept her from truly restful sleep. She lay on her back on the floor, Kat’s lap her pillow.
Kat had forced herself to remain alert despite her overwhelming fatigue. The lack of any further noise from the room outside worried her. She
couldn’t believe Scout would be content to just wait for her to show herself. Unless...Frank had told her where they were?
Chapter Forty-Four
Kenny pulled up the collar of his overcoat. The helicopter had a small heater, but it was not enough to fight off the bitter chill that seeped in around the door to his right. He had Hunter’s $400,000 in a large duffel bag behind his seat.
Kenny didn’t particularly like helicopters, but he was happy to be able to do something for Hunter. She rarely asked for more than a little information now and then. When Hunter left Garner’s employ, she took Kenny with her—secreting him away to a safe location several states away and setting him up in his own computer consulting business. She financed everything until the business took off, and refused all offers of repayment.
Kenny glanced at the pilot, an ex-Navy man who’d been recommended by one of his military contacts. He’d been told the man was trustworthy enough to do a job without asking questions and would keep his mouth shut. But Kenny still was cautious. He had been entrusted with very sensitive information. He’d given the man only a set of GPS coordinates and told him they were to make a delivery and pickup, nothing more.
They were in a four-seat Bell Jet Ranger helicopter, flying low over a sparsely populated wooded area. Kenny looked at his watch and spoke into his headset. “How much farther?”
“We should be there in another hour,” the pilot answered. “Maybe a little less.”
Kenny nodded. They were making better time than he’d predicted and would arrive at their destination at least a half hour early.
