Ahead, a car pulled out of an apartment complex and merged into traffic. Tasker watched it fall in behind the unmarked LAPD sedan.
CHAPTER 40
ZOE TOOK charge. “Stay on those monitors, Lily. Let us know if you see anything we need to be concerned about. Shay, you and I will go through the cupboards. There are a couple of backpacks hanging on the wall beside the ladder. Grab anything you think we’ll need, especially if it can be used as a weapon. After that, we’re out of here.”
“Got it,” Shannon said. Lily nodded.
Together the women divided the items and filled the packs. Shannon’s contained knives and forks, a safety lighter, two packs of matches, candles, three canisters of bear spray, two small cans of Sterno camping fuel, a flashlight, spare batteries, several packets of dehydrated food, and two bottles of water. Zoe’s pack contained the same items plus a kerosene lamp, a bottle of fuel, and the hand crank radio. Lily’s contained food, water, a flashlight, the medical kit, and a map of the region.
“That should do it,” Zoe said. She unhooked the climbing ropes from the wall, gave one to Shannon. “Here’s the plan: If we run into trouble outside, we separate. It’ll be harder for them to catch us if we split off in separate directions. Lily will stay with you. If those assholes should catch up to you, don’t think twice. You pull out that Walther, point it, and unload every fucking round into them. Getting Lily out of this hellhole is priority one. Deal?”
“Deal,” Shannon replied.
Zoe hugged her sister. “Shay, I know you’re way out of your comfort zone here. But we’ve got to do what we’ve got to do.” She pointed to the infrared camera monitors. “Those guys are drug dealers and murderers. We know for a fact they’ve killed Lily’s parents. God knows how many more lives they’ve taken. We’re not going to give them the chance to take ours. Okay?”
Shannon’s voice was unsteady. Her body trembled. “Okay,” she said.
Zoe held her firmly by the shoulders “Promise me, Shannon.”
Shannon took a deep breath. “I do. I promise.”
“Good,” Zoe said. She pointed to the top of the ladderway. “You’ll need to keep your shit together up there. Once we leave here, we’re not coming back. Like Lily said, releasing the leaf-net camouflage over the hatch cover was a one-shot deal. We can’t re-enter the shelter and cover up the hatch. Which means if they search the forest a second time they’ll find it. It won’t matter that we’ve locked ourselves in. They’ll trap us inside. And with no secondary exit this place won’t be a shelter anymore. It’ll be a crypt.”
“How do you figure that?” Lily asked.
“For starters,” Zoe said, “the hatch cover is made of steel. They could weld it shut and trap us down here with absolutely no way of getting out. Sure, we might have fresh air. But eventually our food and water supplies would run out and we’d starve to death. Or the generators will die. That means no heat, ventilation, or air conditioning. Or maybe they drill a hole in the hatch cover, hook a hose up to the ATV’s exhaust, feed it through, fill the place with carbon monoxide until they figure we’re dead, then blow it up. Or they skip the gas because they realize an explosion could probably be seen or heard and instead pump the place full of water and drown us like trapped rats.”
“You’ve given this way too much thought,” Shannon said.
“I’m just keeping it real,” Zoe said. “This is a one-way trip. We leave and don’t come back. Agreed?”
Shannon looked at Lily. The girl nodded.
“All right,” Zoe said. “It’s settled. Grab your packs. I’ll leave first. Shannon, you follow. Lily, you’ll stay three rungs below Shannon. We’ll wave you up when it’s clear.”
“Why can’t I come up right behind you?” Lily protested.
“Because if for some reason the cameras have malfunctioned, and Emmett and his dipshit sons are still out there in the forest looking for us, we’ll have enough time to drop the hatch, brush enough leaves over it so it can’t be seen, and make a run for it. Which means they won’t find you. If they catch us we’d just tell them you’re long gone. You’d still be safe down here, at least for the time being.”
“But…”
“No buts, Lily!” Zoe warned. “The topic isn’t open for discussion. You may be the kid genius here, but I’ve been in a situation like this before and lived to tell about it. You’ll do what I say to the letter. Because all our lives depend on it, not just yours. Am I clear?”
Lily stared at the floor. “Clear.”
“Good,” Zoe said. She placed her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder and looked up at the hatch.
Fight or flight.
Life or death.
Live.
She turned to Shannon. “Ready?”
Shannon nodded. “Ready.”
Zoe let out a long breath. “Okay,” she said. “Here we go.”
At the top of the ladder Zoe removed the Walther PPK from her waistband, raised the handgun to eye level, released the lock, pushed open the hatch, and scrambled up and out of the shelter. She knelt on the wet ground and swung the weapon left to right.
The light drizzle that had fallen when they had first escaped the stables had since transitioned to a hard rain. It felt cold and quickly soaked her to the skin.
The forest air carried with it the sounds of the night.
Horses whinnied in the distant stables. In the house that had been Lily’s prison for the last year, men argued.
“Clear,” Zoe said.
Shannon and Lily scrambled out of the shelter and joined her at the surface.
“Now what?” Shannon asked.
“I have a plan,” Zoe said. “Follow me. Stay close.”
“What are you going to do,” Lily asked.
“What should have been done a year ago,” Zoe replied. She walked in the direction the house. “I’m going to chop the fucking head off the snake.”
CHAPTER 41
THE FIVE vehicles merged into the right lane, rounded the corner, and headed for the Interstate. Two turns later they entered the highway. Rigel slipped in behind them, changing lanes frequently to avoid detection, and followed them for several miles until they reached their exit and stopped at the light. Each of the Suburban’s had taken a separate lane. The first prepared to turn left, the second maintained the center lane, intending to continue straight through the intersection, while the third signaled a right turn. Both LAPD sedans sat behind the center lane vehicle. When the light turned green, the cars sped up and changed lanes, the center car switching with the left, the left with the right; a tactical evasive maneuver, like a Las Vegas street hustle of find-the-pea-under-the-shell but with cars traveling at high speed.
As a professional, Rigel was trained to pay attention to minute details. The SUV the injured agent had gotten into bore one subtle difference to the other vehicles: its running lights were marginally brighter than the other two Suburbans; a problem with its electrical system perhaps, but nonetheless evident. To Rigel’s trained eye it wouldn’t have mattered if ten cars were assigned to the motorcade. The brighter lights of the vehicle gave it away. Rigel watched it race across the road from the right lane to the left and execute a hard-right turn at the next intersection.
He followed the car and pulled into the driveway of a home with an unobstructed view of the long road down which the vehicle had traveled. The car slowed, turned left, then proceeded up a steep hill to a stately stone mansion. Two men in business suits, accompanied by uniformed members of the LAPD, met the vehicle at the gates. Rigel observed the driver as he exited the car. It was the same FBI agent he had seen at the hospital dressed in full tactical gear. The passenger exited the vehicle and shook hands with the other police officers. In the harsh security perimeter lights of the mansion Rigel could make out the bandage around his neck.
Bingo.
He watched the Suburban proceed beyond the main gate and drive to the front entrance of the immense home.
Rigel put his car into
gear and drove across the street. An estate home, similar in size and design to the one at which the agents had arrived, was under construction. He parked out of sight, pulled a protective plastic tarp off a bundle of clay roofing tiles, and went to work. He pulled the trunk release lever, stepped to the back of the car, removed a long narrow suitcase, released the thumb latches, clicked open the case and withdrew a sniper rifle. He attached its scope and inserted the clip. He removed his phony service technicians jacket, folded it neatly and placed it in the trunk. From a travel bag Rigel removed a pair of bulletproof Kevlar pants and tactical jacket and put on the clothing. He placed the OC foggers, spare rifle clip, and the Glock he had stolen from the teens home into the pockets of the vest, along with Zippy. Now well-armed and protected against assault from small-arms fire, Rigel walked through the wet, dark grounds of the construction site. The home shouldered into a large parcel of undeveloped hillside on the road opposite the mansion. Rigel ascended the hillside, found cover, and rested the rifle barrel on a tree branch. He turned on the scope, adjusted the eyepiece and brought the mansion into sharp focus. A four-foot concrete wall surrounded the property. Built into the front gate was a bronze plaque bearing the name of the property: Farrow Estate.
Jackpot.
Rigel retracted the rifle and continued through the trees, keeping a close eye on the two agents patrolling the grounds.
Cloaked in the darkness, weapon in hand, enveloped in the powerful smell of geosmin rising from the ground beneath his feet, footfalls dampened by the falling rain, Rigel maneuvered cautiously through the hillside. Lightning flashed across the sky and lit up the night, followed seconds later by a giant boom. Rigel counted the seconds before the next bolt of electricity cut across the clouds and a second thunderclap shook the ground: one… two… three… boom!
The storm was rolling in, gaining momentum, intensity and ferocity. It would be upon him any second. He would use it to his advantage.
Rigel identified his ideal vantage point. He settled himself into position at the foot of the tree, readjusted the scope and sighted the two sentries.
CHAPTER 42
SPECIAL AGENTS Carter and Lehman met the motorcade at the front entrance of the Farrow Estate and spoke to Director Dunn as Chris Hanover and Jordan exited the lead vehicle.
“Mr. Farrow’s on-site security walked us through the estate sir,” Carter said, raising his voice over the hammering rain. “The place is a fortress. Top of the line Crestor security system, cameras everywhere but the bathrooms and bedrooms, external cams with thermal imaging heat sensors, you name it. The Bureau should be lucky enough to have a safe house as secure as this.”
Jordan smiled.
“Speaking of Farrow’s detail,” Dunn said. “Have they been relieved?”
“Yes, sir,” Lehman answered. They asked if they could maintain a communications link with us from another location.”
Dunn shook his head. “Not a chance. Until this is resolved its Bureau-personnel only on comms.”
“Yes, sir,” Lehman answered. He looked over his shoulder. “Words out about what went down at the hospital. How’s Chris?”
The men watched Hanover open the doors to the second and third SUVs. He stepped aside as Emma and Aiden jumped out of the second escort vehicle, hugged their mother, then followed Marissa into the house. Paula Quest exited the third car, followed by her husband, David. Jordan joined her in-laws. Chris accompanied them into her parents’ home.
“Hanover’s Hanover,” Dunn replied. “No need to worry about him. The man’s as tough as they come.”
“Do we know who attacked him and Mrs. Quest?”
“Not yet,” Dunn replied. “Hospital CCTV’s pics weren’t clear. Quantico’s working on it.”
Carter surveyed over the property. “This place is enormous. There’s a ton of ground to cover. You want us inside or out, sir?”
“Out,” Dunn said. “You’ll take the rear and east side of the estate. Lehman, you’ve got the front and west. Hanover, Carnevale and I will be inside with the family. We’ll be checking comms frequently. Stay sharp.”
“Yes, sir.” The agents took up their assigned positions.
Andrew Dunn walked up the steps to the landing and watched the two LAPD escort vehicles exit the main gate.
Carter and Lehman were right. The property was massive. He considered calling the Bureau to request additional personnel but changed his mind.
They had taken every precaution. Multiple units had been used to transport the family. Evasive driving procedures insured they hadn’t been followed. The grounds had been vetted by a trusted advance team. He was worrying over nothing. The Quests were safe now and would remain so. He had called in favors and put all available resources into finding whoever was responsible for the death of the Farrows and the attempt on Jordan’s life. He wondered if he would have exerted the same degree of effort had the target been anyone other than Jordan Quest. Had he allowed himself to become compromised? Was he trying to keep the woman alive simply because she was a target in danger and that was his job? Or was there more to it than that? Was it because she was Jordan Quest, the acclaimed psychic… and the only person he knew with the ability to shorten the window to help him locate his missing daughters? That was the truth, and it made him feel ashamed. But he was a father first, and nothing was more important to him than the safe return of his beautiful girls. And if he had to compromise himself professionally to make that happen, so be it.
He stood under the portico and watched Carter round the west corner of the estate and disappear out of sight.
For reasons he couldn’t explain he drew his weapon and held it at his side. Thirty ounces of cold comfort.
Once again, he reminded himself that all precautions had been taken. All precautions.
Trust your team.
God dammit Shannon, Zoe… Where are you?
“Director Dunn?” Marissa DeSola stood in the doorway, a cup of hot coffee in her hand. The aroma was enticing. “Please, come inside,” she said. “I’ve put out some food. You and your men need to eat.”
“That’s very kind of you, ma’am,” Dunn replied. “Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
Marissa smiled. “De nada,” she said. “No problem.”
Despite the coming thunderstorm the night seemed preternaturally still.
Dunn holstered his weapon and followed her into the house.
He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched.
Thwup. Thwup.
Two rounds left the silencer of Rigel’s sniper rifle seconds apart and found their targets on the east and west grounds of the estate.
In an instant, FBI Special Agents Carter and Lehman were dead.
CHAPTER 43
THE TRIO kept low, moving cautiously through the forest until they reached the edge of the clearing. Emmett’s car, a late model Chevy Impala, was parked in the dirt driveway facing the road. The ATV’s sat in the backyard.
“I’m going for the car,” Zoe whispered to Shannon. “With any luck, the old man was dumb enough to leave the keys in the ignition.”
“And if he didn’t?” Shannon asked.
“I’ll hot wire it.”
“Do you even know how to hot wire a car?”
Zoe nodded. “My birth dad’s car was a piece of junk. It had no keys. No biggie. If you know which wires to cross your good to go.”
Ahead in the damp grass, Shannon spied the stun stick she dropped when she’d run back to help Zoe. She crept out of the clearing, retrieved the weapon, and gave it to Lily.
“You know how to use this?” Shannon asked the girl.
“Yes,” Lily replied.
“Good. If we get separated and someone catches you, ram it straight down their throat.”
“Or up somewhere else,” Lily replied.
Zoe smiled at Lily. “Now who’s the badass?”
The girl smiled back. “I am.”
“Damn straight.”
“Now what?” Shann
on asked.
Zoe opened her backpack, removed the emergency radio, set the volume level to zero, then rapidly cranked its charging handle, powering up its internal generator. The display glowed. “You two run to the back of the stables. Wait there for me.”
“What are you going to do?” Shannon asked.
“Create a diversion,” Zoe said. “And when I do all hell’s gonna break loose. They’re going to come after us. When you hear me call out don’t hesitate… not for a second. You haul ass to the car and we get out of here. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. All set?”
Shannon and Lily nodded.
“Go!”
Zoe ran straight ahead through the open field towards the back of the house. Shannon and Lily ran to the stables. Zoe slid to a stop under the kitchen window. She could hear the voices of the men inside, muted by the teeming rain. They were arguing, each blaming the other for losing their hostages in the dark woods. Lightning raked the low clouds. A tremendous boom! sounded above her, so powerful Zoe felt the concussive pressure of the thunderclap in her chest. The electrified air made her skin tingle. When she saw Shannon and Lily had made it safely to the stables she executed her plan. She crawled on her hands and knees to the opposite end of the house. She’d already calculated approximately how much time she would need to run from where she sat crouched under the back porch to the car: eight seconds. If she tripped and fell or lost her footing and slipped on the wet grass, it would be game over for all of them. The success of her plan relied one-hundred percent on her making it to the car in time. Zoe peered over the edge of the porch. All clear. She placed the radio on the wooden deck, pointed it toward the kitchen window, turned the volume control knob all the way up and turned it on.
Bon Jovi’s, ‘Livin on a Prayer’ blasted out of the speaker.
Zoe ran as fast as she could. She circled the house and made it to the old Chevy.
Intruders (A Jordan Quest FBI Thriller Book 1) Page 17
