About fifteen minutes later, the Jeep turned right onto an unmarked road two miles ahead of them. He switched the tablet to satellite overlay, seeing a Jeep path intersecting the highway at the point where the tracker departed the road. They had passed dozens of similar paths since leaving the interstate. That was pretty much all they had seen, beside a few one-story homes and trailers set back from the highway. This was about as isolated as it got. He could definitely picture some kind of survivalist camp up in the hills.
“They just turned off the highway onto an unmarked trail,” said Riggs. “Slow us down a little.”
The SUV decelerated without any acknowledgment from Tex. Riggs widened the map view, trying to gauge the distance from the highway to the edge of the hills. He estimated two miles. They’d probably have the camp a few miles back from that. Maybe farther. He’d have to be careful with Tex and Ross once they turned off the highway. Ready at a second’s notice to strike first.
When they turned onto the Jeep trail several minutes later, he scanned ahead of them with the binoculars. The trail ran down a gentle slope for a quarter mile or so, passing through a stand of low-lying trees before rising again. A simple, timber ranch gate spanned the trail just below the top of the brush-covered rise.
“Looks clear,” he said, passing the binoculars to Tex. “There’s a gate just below that rise out there. We’ll pass through and take a look from the top. See if we can get closer without being spotted.”
That would be the end of the road for Tex and Ross. He’d open the gate and shoot them dead when he returned to the truck after closing the gate behind them. They wouldn’t expect him to make a move this soon. Tex nodded, handing the binoculars to Ross.
“Sounds like a plan,” said Ross, returning the binoculars.
Enjoy your last few breaths, gentlemen.
Tex stopped the Jeep farther from the gate than he’d expected. They were at least three times the distance required to swing the gate inward. Looked like this was it. They’d probably try to shoot him as they drove through. He’d have to make his move before that. Probably as soon as he walked the gate over to the side. Drill Ross full of holes first, then Tex. He wouldn’t have the best angles, but it would have to work.
“I’ll close the gate behind us,” said Riggs. “Meet you on the other side.”
“Yep,” said Tex.
Riggs stepped out of the SUV, taking the MP-20 clipped to the side of the foot well with him, and walked toward the gate. He’d gotten three-quarters of the way when he heard a door open. Spinning to face his attackers, he recognized his mistake instantly, unable to stop his hands from lining up the wrong target.
Tex was behind his open door, his pistol pushed through the open window but not yet fully aimed. Ross’s absence could only mean one thing. The operative was covering him from inside the vehicle, in case Tex wasn’t fast enough. Before Riggs could pull the trigger, Tex’s head jerked sideways, a fine red mist exploding over the top of the SUV. Almost simultaneously, Riggs’s view through the windshield disappeared, replaced by another bright red spray, and the rear door window behind Tex’s still upright body exploded outward.
Riggs stood still, instinctually knowing that he’d die if he moved. A sound drew his attention to the right.
“That’s right, not a muscle,” yelled a voice, freezing him in place. “Now release the weapon. Just drop it.”
Riggs did what he was told. An older man wearing a brown ball cap and casual street clothes rose from a thick clump of bushes less than thirty feet from the trail. He pointed a suppressed, short-barreled rifle at Riggs’s chest.
“Kick the weapon to your left,” the man said, walking slowly toward him. “And put your hands on your head.”
“How did you know I was following you?” said Riggs, kicking the MP-20 several feet to his left.
“You weren’t following me,” said the man. “You were following my friend, who drove to the hills to find us a nice quiet place to talk.”
“You’re that Quinn guy.”
“In the flesh,” he said.
“Who fired the other shot?”
“I’d rather talk about the tense little drama that just unfolded. Looked to me like you had a little disagreement with your friends,” said the man, walking behind him.
“You could call it that.”
“I was half tempted to let the whole thing play out, see who was still standing at the end. But with my luck, you’d have all shot one another dead. What’s your name?”
“Chris.”
“Chris. Here’s the deal. You killed a good friend of mine, and you were plotting to kill another good friend of mine.”
Riggs briefly considered trying to explain that Jon Fisher’s death had been a mistake, but dismissed the idea. There didn’t seem to be a point. There was no way Quinn was going to let him live. His road had come to an end.
“It wasn’t personal,” was all he could think to say.
“It never is for people like you,” said Quinn, reappearing on his left side to snatch the MP-20 off the ground, then disappearing behind him again.
“You’re going to kill me,” said Riggs.
Quinn didn’t respond right away.
“Yes, Chris. I’m going to kill you,” he said. “Eventually.”
A shock radiated from the middle of Riggs’s back to his limbs, locking his body with rhythmic pulses of agonizing pain. He fell forward, twitching. The pain lasted a few seconds, quickly subsiding. As it dulled, he felt a tug at his right hip. Shit.
“Back on your feet, Chris. There’s no easy way out of this for you.”
He struggled to his feet, his legs weak. “Let me guess,” he said. “I can tell you what I know right now and get a clean, painless death, or I can hold out and get a painful death.”
“That about sums it up, Chris, but here’s something to consider. We’re not going to start by slapping you around, waterboarding you. I’ve been in this business for more than thirty years, and I find the buildup phase to be a huge waste of time.”
He didn’t like the sound of this at all. Maybe there was a way out of this. “I can give you the man that hired me.”
“At Cerberus?”
“Yes. At Cerberus.”
“But you don’t work for Cerberus,” said Quinn.
“I do work for them.”
“As an independent contractor.”
“No. I’m—”
“You just said ‘the man that hired me,’ Chris. If you’re not getting your health insurance through Sentinel, there’s no way you can give me the man that hired you. He’s a voice on the phone. An e-mail. A text message.”
“We can work something out.”
“Chris. Listen to me. Nothing can save you. You have to accept that.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“Nobody wants to die,” Quinn said, “but everyone wants the choice between—say—passing away in his sleep or burning to death in a house fire. Right? I’m giving you that choice. Quick and painless, or endless and painful.”
“That sounds like a poem.”
“I might put that in my memoirs,” said Quinn. “So what will it be?”
Strangely enough, Quinn’s words had put him at ease. Looking back at the morning, he could see that his fate had been decided long before arriving here. All roads led to his end. In light of what he did to Quinn’s friend, he was lucky to get a choice.
“Quick and painless.”
“You have my word,” said Quinn. “After we verify the accuracy of the information you provide.”
“Always a catch.”
CHAPTER 52
Stuart Quinn dialed his son’s satphone again. He’d called five times since they’d left Riggs in the not-so-gentle care of Scott Gleason and one of his buddies in the hills a few miles beyond Highway 1. He was starting to get worried. David should have answered at this point, regardless of the situation, or at least sent him a quick text. When this call went to voice mail, too, he left a bri
ef message.
“Hey, bud. It’s Dad. Give me a call as soon as you get this, or text me if you can’t call. I need to talk to you about something,” he said, hanging up and sending a text with the same message.
“Nothing?” said Blake.
He shook his head and took a deep breath. If anything had happened to his son, he’d reconsider his promise to Riggs, regardless of what they found inside the motel.
“He’s probably just busy,” said Blake.
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“I meant focusing on the road and staying out of trouble.”
“I know what you meant,” said Stuart, nodding at the motel beyond the windshield. “What do you think?”
“The place is empty. I think we just kick the doors in at the same time and get it over with,” said Blake. “Sounds like our target shouldn’t be too hard to identify.”
“Don’t count on it.”
One of the room doors they planned to kick down opened, and a woman resembling Nissie Keane’s description stepped outside. She pulled the door shut and walked to the metal exterior staircase in the middle of the motel. Moments after disappearing beneath the stairs, a white stream of smoke drifted up through the steps.
“Is that her?” said Blake.
“The right side of her head was shaved. Tats up her neck. Sure as shit looked like her.”
“Riggs said they all looked pretty fucked up.”
“But we agree she’s a she?”
“I saw tits.”
“Keane is the only female in the group.”
“Then that would have to be her,” added Blake. “This would be a painfully easy snatch-and-grab—”
“If we didn’t need all of her gear, too. At least it’ll be quieter than kicking the doors in.”
They crossed the Albertson’s parking lot and walked straight into the motel’s lot. They approached Keane just as she took a final drag on her cigarette and tossed it to the cement next to the stairway. She’d just stood up and taken a few steps toward her room when she noticed them. Her eyes went wide at the sight of Blake’s weapon, quickly narrowing into slits. For a moment, Stuart thought she might run, which would seriously complicate matters. Blake raised the suppressed MP-20 a little higher.
“I knew that idiot would land us in deep shit,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “We had nothing to do with his little stunt.”
“That little stunt killed a good friend of mine,” said Stuart.
“Oh . . . shit.”
“Oh shit is right. You have a room key?”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving the suppressed weapon.
“Slowly hand the key to me,” he said.
Keane reached into the front pocket of her ripped jeans and took out the key card, extending it as far in front of her as possible. She was trying really hard not to get killed, which gave him an idea. He took the card and gave it to Blake.
“How badly do you want to survive this little encounter?”
“Very badly,” she said. “This is just a job. They pay well.”
“I can think of less dangerous jobs.”
“This is the first time we’ve had a problem like this.”
“There’s a reason for that,” said Stuart. “Cerberus fucked up with this one, and not just this op. They’re taking hits like this from here to Mexico.”
“I’m not aware of any other ops.”
“I don’t suspect you are—or you’d never have returned Flagg’s message.”
She tried not to react to the name, but Stuart had been doing this for years. He could read a face.
“Let’s circle back to my friend,” he said, drawing a pistol from a concealed hip holster under his jacket.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” she said, raising her hands in front of her. “I don’t give a shit about Flagg or whatever Cerberus is. I do the work because it pays.”
He turned to Blake. “Try not to damage any equipment.”
“I won’t,” he said.
Blake lowered his weapon to a concealed position along his right side and walked toward the room she had recently left.
“Where’s he going?”
“Nissie . . . may I call you Nissie?”
She nodded.
“Are you emotionally attached to anyone in that room?”
“What?” she said, looking past him nervously.
“Do you hang out with any of them on weekends? Visit one another’s families? Have a physical relationship with any of them?”
She shook her head, frustrated. “No. This is a fucking side job. I don’t know any of them outside of this kind of work. Why do you care?”
As soon as she asked the question, her face changed. She understood.
“I have a job you might be interested in, unless you think someone in those rooms could do a better job.”
She shook her head. “I was thinking of going solo after this job, anyway.”
“I can’t guarantee the pay is better.”
“Pay isn’t everything,” she said.
Stuart glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Blake, who was waiting outside the door.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” she said.
“Just keep your hands in sight. I don’t have the time to find a new hacker.”
When the key-card reader beeped behind him, she started to breathe through her mouth. He watched her wince every time Blake’s gun fired a suppressed bullet inside the room. Three times in rapid succession.
“You’ve never been this close to the end result of your handiwork, have you?” said Stuart.
She shook her head, still breathing rapidly.
“Let’s take a look. You can grab whatever gear you need,” he said, motioning for her to walk.
Blake walked out of the room, without the backpack he had brought with him, when they got to the door. “I’ll take care of the motel office and get the car.”
“Drag whoever’s in the office into the grass across the parking lot. Just in case the fire gets out of control,” said Stuart, examining Nissie’s reaction.
She looked distressed by his order.
“He’s just going to knock them out and move them where they won’t catch fire,” said Stuart, gesturing toward the room. “Shall we?”
She hesitated, taking increasingly reluctant steps toward door. When it became obvious that she’d gotten as close to the unpleasant reality of her work as her own resolve would allow, he pushed her into the room. She’d thank him for it later. He expected her to emerge from the room with a fresh perspective on her line of work, and a desire to make some amends. At the very least, he wanted to show her where she was headed—if she didn’t cooperate.
CHAPTER 53
Stuart paced the soggy ground in front of the two dirt graves, his thumb frozen above the “Send” button on his satphone. He didn’t want to make this call, but he didn’t have a choice. He owed it to Jon. Blake stood behind the dirt mounds, guarding Nissie. Stuart walked away from the graves, his fingers pressing the button after several paces. Leah answered almost immediately.
“Stuart?”
He’d sent Scott and his friend back to their secret compound two hours ago, after killing Riggs. Scott had called him as they’d pulled up to his house, asking Stuart to call back in five minutes. He’d get the phone to Leah.
“Leah. I have some bad news,” said Stuart, his fist clenched. He walked away from the graves toward the edge of the green clearing.
“I knew something had happened when Scott took off with one of his friends this morning,” she said. “He’s really gone?”
“I’m afraid so. It happened late last night, before we got here. I don’t know what to say, Leah.”
“Have you told Nathan?”
He took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to get through to them today. When I do, I’ll—”
“How long has it been since you’ve heard from them?”
“I know that Nathan talke
d with Jon last night, maybe around eleven? He got to talk with Owen, too,” said Stuart, his voice cracking.
Leah didn’t respond for several seconds. He could hear her sniffling. She sobbed between words when she returned to the conversation.
“That’s a long time not to hear from them.”
“It’s longer than I’d like, but they had a solid plan. I expect to hear from them soon. You’ll be the first to know.”
“Thank you, Stuart,” she said. “Thank you for everything you and David have done for us.”
“I wish I could have done more.”
“You’ve risked everything for us. You and David. Don’t you dare blame yourself for what happened. This falls squarely on Cerberus’s shoulders.”
“I’m going to take care of Cerberus,” said Stuart. “I’ll expend my last breath making sure they pay for this.”
“Just get our boys and their families back safely,” she said. “That’s the number-one priority right now.”
Families, plural, she’d said. Jon hadn’t told her about Alison’s death. Stuart didn’t blame him. The news would only have added to her anxiety. There was certainly no reason for him to reveal Alison’s death now.
“I’m working on that. We’re heading south in a few minutes,” said Stuart. “If all goes well, they’ll reach Las Vegas soon and give me a call. I may have them drive up to Salt Lake City. The roads in between are safe enough.”
“Please call as soon as you hear anything.”
“I will,” he said. “Stay safe, Leah.”
“I’m in good hands here.”
“I’m very sorry about what happened to Jon. He was like a brother to me.”
“I know he was, Stuart,” she said. “I don’t want to hold you up any longer. You have a long road ahead of you.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, ending the call.
Stuart stood still, staring at the mountains to the west. He could see why Jon and Leah chose to live out here. You felt a sense of peace and majesty wherever you looked. Maybe when all of this had settled, he’d take a serious look at the upper Rocky Mountain states.
Blake and Nissie stood up when he walked back.
“Time to go,” he said, glancing down at the freshly packed dirt. Two shovels lay on the ground next to the graves. “Wipe the shovels down again,” he said. “I don’t want to get anyone at the compound in trouble over a partial fingerprint.”
Rogue State (Fractured State Series Book 2) Page 27
