by Kim Baldwin
*
Otter was convinced Scout meant to leave them in the cold. After waiting outside the hatch for more than two and a half hours, he made his way to the other entrance to meet up with Frank.
As he neared the rock wall, Otter saw the big man with his back to the sun-warmed surface, his eyes closed. How can he doze off standing up? Must be even more exhausted than I am. “Hey, Frank.”
Frank opened his eyes and stretched.
“How can you sleep? You’re not worried she’s going to leave us out here?”
Frank studied Otter a moment and bit back a sharp retort. It wouldn’t help for them to carp at each other right now. Sure, he was worried. But he was also more tired than he could ever remember being. “Yeah,” he finally answered. “Sure beginning to look like she isn’t gonna let us back in. Think we should start walking?”
“I don’t think we have any other choice.” Otter looked around. “I think I came in that way.” He pointed. He remembered his approach on the snowmobile, his headlights shining directly onto the rock wall.
“Yeah, that seems right.”
Both men grew silent, staring out at the endless landscape of trees and snow.
Otter was remembering the trail to the bunker. It had taken all sorts of crazy twists and turns. There were boggy areas and lots of hills.
Frank had the same pictures in his head. He wondered how they’d ever find their way to the road on foot.
“Let’s do it, then,” Otter said, setting off.
Frank pushed off from the rock wall and followed him.
They had gone only forty feet or so when a sound behind them made them both spin around. Scout stood in the entrance grinning at them, gun in hand. “Going somewhere, gentlemen?”
They glanced at each other and headed back toward the bunker. Otter jammed his right hand into the pocket of his jacket and wrapped his fingers around the crescent wrench. Just let me close enough, bitch. He hated the smug smile she had on her face as she watched them. She was as bad as Hunter.
She backed up as they neared her, as if she knew Otter’s intentions. “So, I take it you didn’t find anything?”
“No,” Otter said, a little too sharply.
Frank shook his head.
Scout was about to close the door when her hand froze over the keypad.
“What’s the matter?” Otter asked.
“Quiet!” she barked. She ran to the generator and shut it off. The lights went out as the drone from the machine died, but Scout could still see the men clearly by the sunlight streaming in through the open doorway.
Now all three could hear the unmistakable sound of a helicopter. It was still some distance away but drawing closer.
*
Kat found the MP5 by her side within just a few seconds of the lights going out. She hadn’t expected this. The darkness didn’t really bother her, but it would make it more difficult to protect Riley. And she didn’t know if Scout now had Otter and Frank working with her, and that complicated things.
She moved Riley’s head from her lap so she could stand, and Riley woke up.
“Kat? What’s happening?”
“Not sure. Someone’s shut off the generator.” Her hand found Riley’s and squeezed it. “Don’t move.”
Kat picked up the MP5 and made her way to the wall.
She put her ear to the panel and listened.
*
Scout stood in the doorway of the generator room, trying to spot the helicopter. The trees around the bunker entrance made it impossible to see anything that wasn’t almost directly overhead. The sound grew louder and seemed to come from her right.
In her reconnaissance of the area, Scout had seen a clearing in that direction—undoubtedly the GPS coordinates that Hunter had given to Kenny. Scout glanced at her watch. You’re early. A sound from behind her made her wheel around just in time to see a flash of metal aimed at her head.
Otter knew when he heard the helicopter that it would provide his best chance to overpower Scout. Her attention was on the approaching chopper, and the noise would help conceal his effort to creep up behind her.
He spared a quick glance toward Frank, but the other man was too far away and was staring out the door. It was now or never.
Otter closed the distance to the blonde. He withdrew the wrench just as she glanced at her watch.
He swung at her, but Scout ducked and the wrench glanced off her forehead. Otter brought the weapon up again as she twisted away from him, but she was faster than he was. Before he could connect a second time, Scout kicked him hard in the groin.
Otter crumpled to the floor with a groan. The tool slipped from his fingers. He grimaced and struggled to his knees. When he looked up at her again, she was pointing her gun at him.
Scout was breathing hard. Blood trickled down her face.
“Stupid shit,” Otter heard her say, just before she pulled the trigger.
Chapter Forty-Five
Otter felt a flash of heat in his thigh and looked down in horror to see a hole in his pants, blood already forming a dark stain around it. He looked up at Scout. His mouth worked but no words came out.
Scout brushed a trickle of blood from her eye before aiming the gun at Otter again.
She fired into his other leg.
He screamed.
Scout turned to Frank. “Don’t move.” She took off in the direction of the clearing. The sound of the helicopter was very close.
Frank stepped over to Otter.
Otter lay as he’d fallen, one leg skewed awkwardly beneath him. He was still conscious. He groaned. “Help me.”
Despite his initial disdain for the other man, Frank felt a certain kinship with Otter now because of all they had suffered together. He didn’t think he could just leave him to bleed to death.
Frank glanced around the room. Scout had left the steel door to the tunnel open. Now might be his only chance to get to the hidden room and warn Hunter. But if Scout came back and caught him, he would surely get the same treatment as Otter. Or worse.
His mind made up, Frank fished his flashlight from his pocket and went into the tunnel. He came back with a couple of long scarves and wrapped them tightly around Otter’s wounds. The two bullets had passed through, and the wounds were bleeding heavily. The scarves would not be enough for long. But Scout apparently had missed the major arteries. There was no copious spurting of blood that Frank knew from experience meant certain death. Perhaps Otter had a chance.
Frank snatched up his flashlight and ran to the living room. Stumbling over the piles of books on the floor, he went to the bookshelves. “Hunter, it’s Frank,” he shouted. “I know you’re in there, but I won’t give you away. Scout’s outside, meeting a helicopter. She’ll be back soon. I have to get back, but I’ll help you if I can. Oh—and she shot Otter, he might not make it.” He waited just a moment, hoping for a response.
When none came, he went into the bathroom and grabbed gauze, tape, and antibiotic ointment, stuffing them into his pockets. Then he detoured into the bedroom to pull the sheet from the bed. He returned to the generator room and crouched beside Otter.
Scout was nowhere in sight.
Blood had already soaked through the makeshift bandages, and Otter’s face was pale. He seemed to be in shock.
Frank took off the scarves and made thick compresses of gauze to put over the wounds, coating them liberally with ointment and binding them tightly with long strips he ripped from the sheet. He lifted Otter and placed him on the sleeping bag. He covered him with the heavy coats they’d huddled under together and shoved his hat under Otter’s head. It was all that he knew to do. He noticed after a few minutes that his first-aid efforts seemed to have slowed the blood loss.
“Don’t move around. You’ll bleed more if you do.” Frank wasn’t sure if the wounded man could hear him.
Otter’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving.
*
Kat had her ear pinned against the panel when Frank’s voice bro
ke the silence. She heard him nearly as clearly as if he were standing in the room with her. She could read the tone of his voice, and she believed he meant every word he said.
So a helicopter is coming, Kat thought. Scout’s way out of here? Reinforcements from Garner? Another option was even more disturbing. Kenny? Did she get into the computer and summon Kenny? Oh Jesus. No.
*
Scout was oblivious to any pain from the cut on her forehead but aware enough of the wound to take the right precautions before she met the helicopter. She didn’t want to alarm its occupants prematurely. She washed her face with wet snow and pulled her black balaclava over her head. Only her eyes were visible.
She saw the chopper through the trees, coming down in the clearing. She put her right hand in her pocket and curled her fingers around the grip of her 9mm. There are getting to be entirely too many witnesses.
For a while in her pursuit of Katarzyna, it hadn’t mattered to Scout what happened to her—she would even have died if she’d had to, as long as Katarzyna paid dearly for killing her brother and her friends. But now with the money she’d be getting, she decided she might want to stick around after all.
With a little swing in her step, Scout walked toward the helicopter as it touched down and the engine was cut. The massive blades began to slow. She waved as she approached the pilot’s side.
The pilot opened his door and smiled at her.
But instead of speaking to him, she addressed the man in the other seat. She had to talk loudly to be heard over the sound of the dying rotors. “Are you Kenny?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Where’s Hunter?”
Scout turned toward the pilot. Her right hand came out of her pocket, too fast for him to react. “I won’t be needing you.”
She put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
Chapter Forty-Six
Kenny flinched as the gun went off. Blood and brain matter splattered the interior of the copter. Kenny was covered with it—his face, neck, the front of his coat. It had happened so fast it took him a moment to register what had happened. He recoiled in horror at the sight of the pilot’s head. Half of it was missing. Then he turned to look at Scout, his mouth open and his eyes wide.
Scout leveled the gun at Kenny’s forehead.
He raised his hands. They were shaking. “Please. I’ll do whatever you say,” he managed. His throat was dry. “And forget I ever saw you,” he added. Where the hell is Hunter?
“You might be useful,” Scout said, pulling off her balaclava. Her wound had nearly stopped bleeding, but dried blood clung to her hair. “Did you bring the money?”
“Yes. It’s behind the seat, in the duffel.”
“Do you have any weapons? Any in the chopper?” she asked.
“No. Not that I know of,” Kenny said.
Scout reached in to the copter and grabbed the keys. “Okay. Come around to this side and pull his body out.” She nodded toward the pilot and backed away from the chopper. “Put him over there.” She motioned with the gun toward a large fir tree.
While Kenny took care of the odious task, Scout grabbed the duffel bag and opened it. Inside were neat stacks of currency. Packets of $100 bills, bound by bank bands that read $10,000. She smiled. You can buy a lot of trouble with this kind of cash. She searched the bag for a weapon before zipping it shut again.
When he finished with the pilot, Kenny tried to wipe the blood and brain bits from his face, head, and neck with snow. The smell of it made him nauseous.
“Let’s go,” Scout barked. “That way.” She gestured toward the tracks she’d made from the bunker.
Kenny started in that direction. She lagged several feet behind.
“How well do you know Hunter?” she asked after they had taken a couple of steps.
Kenny started to turn around to answer, but her voice stopped him before he got halfway.
“Keep walking.”
“She’s a-a friend,” Kenny replied. Volunteer nothing, Hunter had always told him. Suddenly he realized who the woman behind him was. Scout. She fit the description perfectly. Then he remembered something else. Has a thing for knives. Kenny swallowed hard.
“I want to hear everything,” her voice said from behind him. An audible click followed her statement.
Kenny glanced over his shoulder. His stomach dropped out from under him.
Scout’s left hand held her gun. Her right now casually twirled a very wicked-looking switchblade knife.
*
Frank spotted them approaching through the woods. He tried to make out the man in the lead. Friend of Scout’s? he wondered. Frank positioned himself in front of Otter, trying to shield him from view. He hoped Scout wouldn’t notice the bandages.
When they got closer, Frank could see stains on the man’s coat. Bloodstains, he realized. Just then, Scout stepped out from behind the newcomer, and Frank saw the gun and knife she held on him. Nope, he’s no friend. The man didn’t seem injured, so Frank wondered whose blood it was that covered his overcoat. This wasn’t good at all.
*
During their short walk from the chopper to the bunker, Kenny kept talking but tried to offer only vague, innocuous information. He told Scout he’d known Hunter for a few years, but not very well. He admitted they’d worked together but volunteered no details. He said their contact was mostly via computer and not face-to-face. He told her he hadn’t actually seen Hunter in “quite some time.”
Scout didn’t prod for more. In fact, she hadn’t said another word as he’d rambled on about Hunter. Kenny’s apprehension grew with each step as he thought of the knife and wondered what had happened to his friend.
As Kenny stepped into the bunker, he blinked several times, adjusting from the bright sunlight to the relative darkness of the generator room. His eyes met Frank’s.
Scout was behind Kenny, so Frank risked a quick nod to the newcomer—a signal of camaraderie he hoped the man could understand.
Kenny’s eyes widened slightly, then he blinked his eyes in a slow, deliberate motion in return. And who the hell are you? he wondered.
Scout stepped from behind Kenny and glanced at Frank, then to the floor behind him. “What have you been up to?” She motioned with the gun for him to step aside. Scout stared down at Otter. She kicked away the coat that covered him to expose the bandages around his legs. “Well you’re a regular Florence Nightingale, aren’t you, Frank? How touching.”
Frank didn’t reply.
Scout turned the generator back on, restoring lights and power, and shut the outside door. She kept her distance from Kenny and Frank. She couldn’t be careless now. She was too close. The helicopter parked outside marked the location of the bunker, so she needed to wrap this up before anyone else showed up looking to collect on Garner’s contract.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said, motioning the two of them toward the steel door. “Time to end this game of hide-and-seek. Now is when the real fun begins.”
*
Kat was startled by the sudden restoration of light. But she didn’t move from her spot, keeping her ear pressed against the panel that separated the weapons chamber and the living room. She wished she’d installed a peephole when she’d put in the secret room, but she’d never expected to be hiding in it.
She turned her head to look at Riley, still propped in the corner farthest from the door.
Riley watched Kat, awake and alert now, both women sensing an impending showdown.
They exchanged resolute smiles, their prolonged eye contact reaffirming the depth of their desire for each other.
Scout’s voice, muted but audible, broke the silence. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she shouted in the singsong manner of children in a schoolyard.
Her next words were spoken in a much different tone. Shrill, angry, and out of patience. “If you don’t reveal yourself, Katarzyna, I’ll have to start taking out my frustration on your buddy Kenny here.”
*
Scout put her gun to
Kenny’s head. They stood in the middle of the living room, his back to her, his arms in the air. She didn’t expect an immediate response. But she was alert. Her eyes scanned the perimeter of the room.
Frank was seated several feet away on the couch watching them, fighting a persistent urge to glance at the bookshelves.
After a minute or two of tense waiting, Scout addressed Frank. “Get the desk chair over here.”
He obeyed, pushing the wheeled chair the last few feet to avoid getting too close to her.
Scout shoved Kenny into the seat.
“Get me the handcuffs and rope from in there,” she told Frank, nodding toward the pantry.
He found them and tossed them to her, then backed away again.
“Hands behind you,” she snapped at Kenny.
He complied, wrapping them around the back of the chair.
Scout fastened the handcuffs and tied Kenny’s legs together with the rope. There wasn’t enough of it to also bind him to the chair.
She turned her attention to Frank.
He was hard to read. He’d worn the same neutral expression all along. And he hadn’t leapt in to help Otter try to overpower her. He hadn’t tried anything at all. In fact, he had been careful not to.
Scout reached the same assessment Kat had of the man. He was an enforcer. A guy who didn’t take chances and who followed orders. Probably any orders, at the right price.
Scout stepped to the kitchen counter, where she had set the duffel full of money, and motioned to Frank to join her.
“You’ve seen what I can do,” she said.
He nodded.
“I might be able to use you. If I can trust you.”
“I’m your man,” he said.
Scout reached into the bag and pulled out two stacks of bills.
