Trust No One (A Lucas Holt Novel Book 2)

by JP Ratto

  “And it had something to do with Brandon?”

  “Yes. We had an argument. Dhakar, that’s my brother’s name, says it is his responsibility to look after me. He doesn’t approve of my relationship with Brandon. He says I cannot marry him even if Brandon converts to Islam. When I told him I would do as I please, he beat me and told me that by sunrise Brandon will be dead.” She began to cry again.

  “He plans to kill Brandon? Does he know Brandon?”

  Ghada nodded. “They know each other. They used to be friends. Dhakar has been acting strange the past few days. He’s been quiet and seemed to be avoiding me. I thought he was angry because I wouldn’t stop seeing Brandon. Dhakar liked Brandon. I don’t understand.”

  “What provoked the argument tonight?”

  “Dhakar was out, and I went into his room to see if I could find anything that might tell me why, all of a sudden, he’s so angry.”

  “And did you find anything?”

  “No. He came home. He didn’t catch me in his room, but I must have left something out of place because he came at me in a rage. That’s when he hit me again and told me Brandon would die. Oh, Mr. Holt, you must find Brandon before Dhakar gets to him.”

  “What makes you think your brother knows where Brandon is?”

  “He must know. As he packed some of his things in a bag, he screamed that Brandon was no longer of use to anyone and would be killed. Then he left.”

  “Do you have any idea where he went, Ghada? Do you believe Dhakar had something to do with Brandon’s disappearance? I have to know if there’s any chance to save Brandon.” I saw her staring at my neck. I could feel the veins throb and my face reddened.

  In spite of what he’d done to her and his threat to kill Brandon, Ghada hesitated.

  “Ghada, please.”

  She reached into the pocket of her robe. “After he rushed out, I found this. He must have dropped it.” She handed me turn-by-turn directions on half a sheet of paper. The destination wasn’t written but I was sure I could guess. Wherever he ended up was close to water.

  “This could be where your brother was going. Could be where Brandon is.”

  “Do you think you can find him?”

  “Ghada, do you have a computer?”

  “In the kitchen.” I was in a hurry, and it was fortunate the computer was booted up and ready. I brought up a map of Maryland, found the main road listed in the directions, and followed it to a small public airport with a 2500-foot runway. As I shut the computer, I hoped I’d get there before Dhakar killed Brandon and the culprits were in the air, miles away.

  CHAPTER 26

  The frantic vibration of the burner phone under his pillow startled Vilari awake. He pried open his eyes to glance at the clock on his nightstand. Three a.m. He rose on one elbow, flipped it open, and whispered, “Vilari.”

  Francesca snored beside him, the low gurgle and wheeze made it hard to hear the voice on the other end of the phone. “Hold on.” He slipped out of bed, padded to the walk-in closet, and closed himself inside. “Sorry,” he said and listened to the instructions given. When the call ended, he typed an address into his phone.

  He turned on the overhead fluorescent light and stood gazing at his reflection in the mirror on the back of the door. More gray streaked his thinning dark hair. Deep darkened skin under his eyes accentuated the fatigue and stress that plagued him. He didn’t recognize the tired, old man he had become in the last few weeks. Shaking from anxiety and lack of sleep, Vilari dressed in black jeans, sneakers, and a sweater. His standard fare for work on a Saturday.

  Tiptoeing back to his end table, he glanced at Francesca, who was turned away from him on her side. She was also exhausted, and he was glad she slept soundly. He opened the drawer wide and reached to the back where he kept a Smith and Wesson revolver. A pacifist by nature, Vilari hated guns and couldn’t imagine firing at anyone. But after a rash of burglaries, he had decided it was prudent to have a gun in the house. Since the required firearm training, he had stuck it in the drawer and hoped never to use it. It was unloaded, as a precaution, and he inwardly laughed at the absurdity of keeping an unloaded gun for protection. He opened another drawer, removed some bullets, and left the bedroom, softly closing the door.

  Downstairs, he crossed the kitchen to a writing pad on the counter and left Francesca a brief note:

  Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

  Your adoring husband, Robert.

  Vilari left his home and sprinted to his car, aluminum briefcase in hand. Setting the case on the seat beside him, he entered an address into his GPS for directions to Back River Sky Park. Checking the time and the distance to and from his destination, he breathed a momentary sigh of relief.

  Good. I should be at my desk by six a.m.

  ***

  As I returned to the living room, a gasp and abrupt silence made me stop and pull out my .38. Peering down the hallway, I noticed the front door was more than halfway open. It had been shut when I passed on my way to the kitchen. I crept toward the arched doorway on the left and could hear soft whimpering. I inched closer.

  “Put away your gun, Mr. Holt, or I will kill her.”

  Shit.

  I was in a hurry and didn’t need another hostage situation to deal with. I slipped the gun in my pocket and stepped into the room.

  A young man who bore the same facial structure and dark eyes as Ghada held her against his chest with a knife at her throat.

  “Dhakar?” I asked.

  “So you guessed. Very good. No introductions necessary.”

  “Dhakar, let your sister go. Harming her will make things worse for you.”

  Ghada wept and her eyes pleaded with me not to do anything stupid. She clearly believed her brother capable of murdering her.

  “My sister has shamed me by her relationship with an infidel and now she has betrayed me by calling you. Do you mean to suggest she is an innocent?”

  “I didn’t come here to interfere in your personal business, Dhakar. My purpose is to find Brandon Gates.”

  “By the time you find him, he will be dead. He would be dead already, if you hadn’t been involved.”

  “What do you want, Dhakar? Why did you come back?”

  “I came back because I didn’t trust my sister. And I was right not to. What has she told you?”

  “She called me because she feared for Brandon’s life.”

  “And so she should.”

  Dhakar’s eyes shifted, and I turned to see what he was looking at. A small clock radio sat on a table. He was checking the time. Dhakar tightened his hold on Ghada and moved sideways toward a window. He pulled back the curtain and glanced out.

  “Sit down, Mr. Holt. Do it quickly.”

  I did what I was told, taking a seat in the far corner of the room. A car’s headlights flashed. Someone was waiting for him. I knew he planned to escape.

  “Let Ghada go,” I said. “If you harm her, I will not let you leave this house. Your mission will be over.”

  He appeared to weigh his options. Unfortunately, his decision did not bode well for Ghada. He dragged her to the hallway and backed up to the front door. It appeared he would take his sister, but I didn’t believe it; she would slow him down.

  “Taking her with you is a mistake, Dhakar. Leave her here. I won’t follow you.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Holt. You won’t.”

  Dhakar shocked Ghada and me by removing the knife from her throat and plunging it into her side. She screamed as he shoved her to the floor and fled out the door. I ran to Ghada and a few moments later, could hear the screech of tires as the car outside sped away.

  “Ghada!” I turned her over to check the severity of the wound and determined it wasn’t life threatening. Dhakar didn’t want to kill his sister after all. I couldn’t leave her until help arrived. I called 911 and then I called Mac.

  “Holt?” he answered on the first ring.

  “Yeah, I’ve a problem here. Ghada’s brother
Dhakar returned and the short story is Ghada has a knife wound in her side, and I’m waiting for an ambulance to arrive.”

  “How the hell…”

  “Can’t give details now, Mac. In any case, Dhakar is undoubtedly on his way to Back River Sky Park. I suspect that’s where Brandon is. He’ll have a head start. As soon as I know Ghada is okay, I’ll get on the road. Has Vilari left the house?”

  “He just came out with the briefcase. He’s dressed in black, like he’s going to pull off a bank heist at night.”

  “Okay, stick with him,” I told Mac. “I bet we end up in the same place. Either way, keep in touch.”

  “Right. Hey, are you biting off more than you can chew? Maybe I should let Vilari go and cover your skinny ass.” I could picture Mac’s grin.

  “I’ll be fine. And stop looking at my ass.” I clicked off.

  ***

  The EMTs arrived within ten minutes of my call and after checking her vitals, took Ghada to the hospital. I spent a few awkward moments explaining my presence in her home to neighbors who came out to see what was happening. By their expressions and responses, I knew Ghada was going to have a tough time when she returned home.

  Taking the interstate north, I made good time, reaching halfway to my destination in fifteen minutes. Once off the highway, I traveled on a two-lane state road and then on one-lane deserted roads through small towns until I was a few miles from the water. My high beams glowed bright on the dark road ahead, allowing me to keep a steady speed.

  I slowed when I spotted fresh skid marks, which I followed to a black SUV that had left the road. Easing past, I saw its demolished front-end bent halfway around an oak tree. Steam rose from the radiator. All signs pointed to the crash occurring a short time before I arrived. Two bodies slumped in the front seat.

  I hated losing time and was torn between stopping to help and moving on to prevent Brandon’s death at the hands of Dhakar Shaheen. Deciding to check for vital signs and then call in the wreck, I pulled over and ran to the driver’s side.

  Shining my flashlight into the car, I was stunned to see FBI agents Dick and Brains. I tugged on the car door and had difficulty opening it as the crushed front had pushed it out of alignment with the frame. Placing my foot on the side for leverage, I yanked it a few times. It finally gave way. The inflated airbag forced Dick’s head back against the seat. I reached in and pressed four fingers to the vein in his neck for ten seconds. He was gone. Running to the passenger side, which suffered far less damage, I found Brain’s head facing his partner and held in place by the air bag. I touched his neck and startled him awake.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Just get this damn airbag off me.” His speech was labored. “What about Meyers?”

  I glanced over at Richard Meyers, whose eyes were wide open. I shook my head. “I’m sorry…”

  “Grant—James Grant,” Brains said.

  I called in the accident and leaned over Grant. Using the stiletto I kept in the car, I punctured the air bag. Grant’s face was bruised, his right eye swollen, and his nose looked broken.

  “Can you move?” I asked.

  He tried moving his arms and legs and they seemed to be working fine. He groaned as he pulled his cellphone from his jacket pocket.

  “I can’t stay,” I told him. “An ambulance is coming. Where were you headed?”

  “Need to know, Holt. And you don’t need to know. Where are you going?”

  “The airport. Brandon Gates may be there.”

  He nodded his head, more to himself than to me and said, “Watch your back.”

  When I left, he was talking to the FBI field office. I still wanted to know why Grant was on this dark road leading to a little-used airstrip at four in the morning. I knew it wasn’t a coincidence.

  CHAPTER 27

  Driving another few miles, I found an old faded sign for the Back River Sky Park and made a right turn. I drove alongside a chain link fence surrounding a substantial tract of open land. In the distance, I could see three buildings and a hangar large enough for seaplanes and other small aircraft. I grabbed a pair of binoculars from the backseat and scanned the undersized airport. The white vinyl-sided buildings were not open for business, but the hangar had plenty of activity.

  The lights in the hangar dimmed. Two dark-clothed men, carrying rifles, came out and walked in opposite directions. They circled the small-plane shelter and, moments later, returned to the front of the hangar. I heard the muted resonance of a plane’s engine. A single-engine aircraft coasted from inside to the entrance. Damn. The plane was preparing to leave. Was Vilari there already? Where was Mac? It appeared Vilari would deliver the toxin and anti-toxin to a group of terrorists, who planned to escape by air. Somehow, I had to stop them.

  I opened the glove box. Switching out my .38 for my Glock, I checked the clip. It was full. Slipping it inside my pants at the small of my back, I left the car with the binoculars. I found a vantage point where I could search for safe access.

  There was none.

  The full moon was bright against the clear night sky. It wouldn’t be easy to sneak up on them with two guards outside having nothing to do except watch for intruders. One of them spotted my Rover and began walking toward me. I crouched and ran back to the passenger side. Standing, I could see the guard through the car windows, still walking in my direction.

  He held an AK-47 in his two hands.

  Opening the passenger side door, I entered and jumped in the driver’s seat. He wasn’t running, so I guessed the tinted windows kept him from having a clear vision of me entering the car. I keyed the ignition. There were no obstructions between us, and the sound of the engine halted him. I hoped he would decide to tell his cohorts he scared away a lost traveler and return to the hangar. Instead, he rapidly closed the distance between us. With his weapon raised, he shouted something I couldn’t understand.

  I turned the Rover around and headed back the way I came. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, I saw the guard lower his rifle and raise his fist in the air—probably screaming obscenities at me.

  With the plane idling at the hangar entrance and ready to go, time was running against me. I wondered how long Brandon would remain alive, if he wasn’t already dead. I had to find another way in and fast.

  As I rode along the perimeter, I saw no other cars. I expected Vilari to arrive with the toxin, and then the fireworks would begin. There was no time to call in reinforcements.

  Back on the main road, I drove a quarter mile, made another right turn, and circled the airport. Traveling along the fence, I was now behind the hangar, fifty yards away. On that side of the airport, trees and shrubs blocked the view of the three buildings, but the moon cast enough light to see them. The thick wooded area provided cover for my, hopefully, unannounced visit. Wasting no time, I climbed the fence and darted between the trees to reach the hangar.

  The back wall was aluminum with a small multi-paned window dead center and a narrow door to the right. The lock was broken.

  A break for the good guys.

  I walked back three feet into the shadows and peeked through the window. I had a clear view through the cavernous space to the front of the hangar. Someone stood outside the plane’s cockpit talking to the pilot. Two others milled about and then sat to play a game of cards. They were all dressed in similar clothes, but when the one at the plane turned, I recognized Dhakar. The pilot cut the engine, and when I pressed closer to the window, I heard two speaking in English. Dhakar walked out of my field of vision so I changed my angle to see where he was going.

  Brandon slumped on a box crate in a far corner of the hangar, his hands tied behind his back, and his ankles bound. His face wasn’t clear, but he straightened when Dhakar shouted and approached him. My command of the Arabic language was limited, but I could clearly understand Dhakar’s announcement to Brandon.

  “You’re going to die.”

  CHAPTER 28

  Brandon tried to focus on the figure walking toward hi
m. His head pounded, acid stabbed his empty stomach, and his ankles and wrists burned from the tight binding. A moan rose from within, but he wasn’t sure he’d made a sound. How many days had he been there? Where? Brandon had heard a plane’s engine and the whir of the small propeller. An airport. Were they taking him somewhere?

  He blinked to clear his vision. God, it even hurts to move my eyelids. He knew they were swollen, as were his lips and cheeks. He vaguely remembered the beatings. At first, he’d fought back even though he was outnumbered. They laughed and told him his resistance amused them and made their job more enjoyable. That made him angry, and he’d fought harder. But once they tied his hands and feet, he was helpless to ward off their fists as they pummeled his head, chest, and back. Dhakar. Did he say his friend’s name out loud? Friend? Brandon thought Dhakar might not accept the idea of him marrying Ghada. He expected disapproval but was certain once he realized Brandon’s commitment to Ghada—to Islam—Dhakar would give his blessing.

  He was wrong.

  Dhakar grabbed a shock of Brandon’s hair and yanked his head back. “You are guilty of two charges. You have drawn my sister into an immoral and unacceptable relationship behind my back. You have consorted with the FBI and have brought unwanted attention to my comrades and me.”

  Brandon whispered, “No.”

  “No?”

  “I don’t know anything about the FBI.”

  “Of course you will deny it. Surely, you don’t deny your inappropriate pursuit of Ghada.”

  “I love Ghada.”

  “Liar!” Dhakar whipped his hand across Brandon’s face, causing fresh blood to ooze from his split lips. “You are an infidel. There is no love between a believer and a non-believer.”

  Brandon didn’t have the energy to plead his case. Instead, he caught Dhakar’s eyes, and with as much conviction as he could muster said, “I will marry Ghada, Insha’Allah.”