Steel Trap: A Jack Steel Action Mystery Thriller, Book 4

by Geoffrey Saign

  Steel thought he could use some of Zeus’ laid-back attitude. “How are you feeling after the attack by Dima today?”

  “Supercharged.”

  Steel’s eyebrows went up.

  Zeus waved a hand. “I’m not saying I want to risk dying for an adrenaline rush, but I feel great. Mainly because you prepared us. Mykey used to be so unpredictable on collections that most of the time I had no clue what was going to happen next.” He chuckled. “It’s good training for a chef too, because you need to stay calm in the kitchen. Lots of variables to juggle.”

  Steel smiled. “You could cook us Greek cuisine anytime.”

  Zeus grinned. “Dad and Mom have fantastic recipes I can steal.”

  Val and Matt joined them. Val said the Old Man was calling his family. Matt’s curly hair was in disarray, his clothing crumpled. Val’s blond hair was strewn over her shoulders. They both looked tired.

  “Is everything ready for the hand-off?” Matt sounded hopeful.

  Steel placed a hand on his shoulder. “As well as can be expected.”

  “Great.” Matt didn’t sound exuberant. He still had his injured arm in a sling, his Glock 43 in a back holster.

  “It should be safe, but I need you two to remember one thing.” Steel eyed both of them.

  Val waved a hand. “Yah, yah. We got it. Whatever you tell us to do, we do, daddy.”

  Steel shook his head at her goofiness, but Zeus chuckled.

  “Put on Kevlar.” Steel pointed to a row of hangars with different sizes.

  “Do you expect problems?” Matt swung his gaze from Zeus to Steel.

  “Always,” Zeus and Steel said in unison.

  Val patted Matt’s arm. “Here, baby, let me take care of this for you.” She gently helped him take off his arm sling and shirt, and slip Kevlar over his injured arm. After redressing him, she drew his Glock 43 and rapidly stripped and cleaned it like a pro. Finding a fresh mag off Angel’s shelves, she reloaded the gun and slipped it back into Matt’s holster.

  “You’re the best, Val.” Matt kissed her.

  In moments, Val pulled back and smiled. “Now my turn, baby.”

  Steel watched her pick up a SIG P365, load it, and strap on a back holster to carry it.

  She noticed him watching her, and said, “My father taught me about guns.”

  “Have you ever shot anyone before?” he asked.

  Her eyes hardened. “No. But I’m ready to.”

  ANGEL CALLED RENATA and Jasmine to tell them everything had gone smoothly thus far, but also to see what his sister sensed about the coming hand-off.

  Jasmine ended with, “Keep yourself safe, my love. Return soon.”

  “I will, Jasmine.” But as he waited for Renata to come on the phone, he felt less and less sure. Things didn’t feel any better to him. Even though he had promised to help Steel, he still felt uncertainty. And Steel had told him about the possible leak in the CIA. He wondered if the CIA had a file on him.

  Renata’s warm voice filled his ear. “Angel, I sense you are worried.”

  “I’m still not sure about Steel. And things feel off.” He explained what he knew thus far, since the more information Renata had, the more clarity she could give him. “Dima is the Russian adversary and Edwards is the CIA contact that will take the hand-off of Matt and Val. We also have a big man named Zeus with us.”

  Renata was silent.

  Angel walked out the front door of the house, needing to see the blue sky and white clouds. American goldfinches and redstarts were singing in the branches of the trees in the yard, and robins were hunting bugs and worms in the grass. Paying attention to beauty helped him. Most humans chased things that cost money, but Renata had taught him that long ago that the greatest gifts were free. He never forgot it.

  Renata finally spoke. “Angel, of course what you are doing is very dangerous. I sense dishonesty at many levels from Dima and the CIA. Keep your disguise. Trust Steel. He needs you and wants to believe in you. Zeus is strong and good like his name. And I still sense you will lead things, dear brother.”

  “Renata, the last group I led was La Manada—The Pack—and all they did was murder.”

  “And that’s why this is so important, dear brother.”

  “Thank you, dear sister. That helps. Talk soon.” He hung up, feeling more centered. Though he doubted Steel would allow him to lead anything. Give advice, sure, but this was Steel’s team and assignment. Besides, he didn’t want to lead anyone.

  Still, he would listen to Renata. She had been right too many times in the past to ignore her advice.

  However if things became risky for capture at any point, no matter what he had promised Steel, he would flee. It was one of the reasons he had refused Steel’s offer of money—he wanted no sense of obligation. He had lived for the dreams of cartel bosses for most of his life, and now he didn’t want to live for anyone’s dreams except his own. Steel’s dreams were not his.

  He would not risk losing everything he had now, not for anyone or anything. No matter what. And if Steel reacted with threats to anything he did, he would kill him.

  PART 4

  OP: POACHERS

  CHAPTER 17

  Christie panicked over not knowing the location of the second man. He had to be to the east, coming down the hill toward her. Maybe he was closer than the other man. The two men weren’t concerned about Rachel because she was a teenager—they probably assumed a young teen wouldn’t pack a gun and they could deal with her later. They were working to get her first.

  Uncertain what she should do, she brought her gun to her stomach and aimed it over her feet. Listening. Her view was limited to ten feet in any direction before the grass blocked it. She decided both men were likely advancing toward her.

  She couldn’t see a safe move to make, so she did nothing. Steel’s motto, Stay calm, assess options, look for a solution, steadied her. What if she never saw Steel again? And how could she ever face him if Rachel died?

  Faint thumps. Footsteps. Had to be the second man running through the grass near her. Trying to get close enough to shoot her?

  The crack of a pistol startled her. Rachel’s Luger. She heard a gasp and thump to the northeast, followed by rapid rifle shots from down the hill. No bullets were hitting the ground around her. The man below her had to be targeting Rachel.

  No choice. Christie sat up, arms and gun extended, squeezing the trigger before she had a certain shot. The man from below had worked his way halfway to her and was standing, his rifle up and aimed to the northwest—at Rachel. Christie fired twice, but the man had already thrown himself to the ground. His quick movements and previous shooting gave her an uncanny feeling that she was dealing with someone as skilled as Steel.

  Rising first to her knees and then her feet, Christie shot twice more at the man’s location, aiming at the patch of grass he had dived into. She glanced over her shoulder. A big man dressed in camo was lying facedown twenty feet from her. She bolted.

  Running west, toward the trees, Christie fired at the man downhill from her every half-dozen steps. She figured the man couldn’t fire on her if she kept him pinned down.

  More gunshots startled her. Fifty yards ahead, Rachel was firing at the man from beside a big pine tree, forcing the poacher to stay down. It allowed Christie to forget about him and run all-out.

  In seconds she entered the trees, her chest aching. “Let’s go, Rachel!”

  Rachel whirled and ran with her. Christie sprinted west to get farther into the trees and out of danger. They had to circle some shrubs, jump over low deadfalls, and run around bigger ones. After running fifty yards, she turned southwest, intending to eventually intersect the west path. Rachel was right behind her.

  Glancing southwest, Christie glimpsed the man fifty yards to the south, running fluidly through the woods. Also heading southwest. He was going to cut them off from reaching the west trail. She quickly lost sight of him. Which meant he couldn’t see them either. She needed another plan.

/>   Stopping abruptly, she gripped Rachel’s shoulder and pulled her behind a big cedar tree with a finger over her lips. Rachel wrapped her arms tightly around Christie. Guilt flooded Christie as she held Rachel. She was supposed to be keeping Steel’s daughter safe, not involving her in shootouts.

  Rachel’s lips quivered. “I had to shoot the man, Christie. He had his rifle aimed at you.”

  “You saved my life, honey. You did the right thing.” Christie’s chest heaved. She separated from Rachel and whispered, “Okay, Rach. We have to be very quiet. I’m going to take another look.”

  Nodding, Rachel pressed her back against the tree trunk, her Luger down by her thigh.

  “How many rounds do you have left?” Christie glanced all around.

  Rachel spoke quickly. “Four. I saved some, like Dad taught me.”

  “Good girl.” Christie pressed herself into the bark of the trunk and brought the binoculars up. Slowly she edged around the tree. Listening, she didn’t hear anything, but if the man moved smoothly he might be quiet, like Steel. She didn’t see him. That was a relief.

  She withdrew behind the tree. “I’m going to call for help, Rach. If you hear or see anything, let me know.”

  “Sure.” Rachel raised her binoculars and peeked around the tree trunk to watch the forest to the south.

  Christie dug out her phone and dialed 911 off speaker. When it was answered, she quickly gave their approximate location and explained the situation. The officer advised her to stay put if she could. The police would be there in an hour, given driving time and the necessary hike. Christie hung up.

  “What did they say?” Rachel’s eyes were hopeful.

  Christie bit her lip. “An hour to get here.”

  “An hour?” Rachel’s disappointment was obvious.

  Christie felt the same way. They needed help sooner, but no one was close enough. Still, she had to tell someone in her family—in case they never made it out. She wanted to call Steel but couldn’t do that to him. And Harry and her dad were injured. In the end, even though she didn’t want to, she called Clay.

  He answered, sounding curt. “Where are you, sis?”

  Christie felt better just hearing her brother’s voice. She spoke quietly. “You know the meadow we used to hang out on when we were kids? We’re two-thirds up it in the west woods.”

  Clay kept talking, making her want to scream at him. “Dad insisted on coming home today. He called me. Begged me to do it. And I’ve got a million things to do. I had to bring the twins since there was no one to watch them. Then after we took Dad home, he found out you went searching for his gun on the west trail and started yelling like a madman. It was all I could do to keep him from going after you. Just come home, Christie.”

  Surprised that Clay was at their folks’ house, Christie rushed her next words. “Clay, Rachel shot a man. We’re being hunted by a poacher. He’s very good.”

  Silence.

  Clay’s voice softened. “You called the police?”

  “I just did, Clay.”

  “It’ll take them an hour. I’m coming up, sis. Just hold tight. Keep talking. I’m going to load a rifle now. What else can you tell me?”

  “The poacher might be waiting on the west trail to ambush us on the way down. He could kill you if he sees you coming up. I think he shot Dad.”

  Clay was quiet again. “So Dad didn’t want you looking for his gun because he knew it might be dangerous.”

  “If he wasn’t shot, I’d have you yell at him for not telling us.” Christie couldn’t smile over her attempt at humor.

  “No kidding.” Clay’s voice was firm. “Okay, I’m gonna take the north road and cut up to the meadow on the east side. I’ll watch your back when you cross the meadow. You need to hold out for twenty minutes, maybe thirty.”

  “I’m not sure we’ll make it across the meadow, Clay. The poacher might be working his way up to us now, or even around us. He’s got a scoped, suppressed rifle and he’s dressed in camo.” Christie hating talking in front of Rachel like this, but Clay had to know what they were up against.

  “Crap.” Clay was silent a few heartbeats. “I don’t know your exact position, Christie. Any thoughts?”

  She made a hasty decision. “If we work our way north, up along the west edge of the meadow, at the top of the meadow we could remain inside the tree line and head east to meet you.”

  “Good plan, sis. I’m getting in the truck now. Hang tight. I’ll inform the police of what’s happening. I’ll check back in ten minutes. Text or call if you need to.”

  “Alright, Clay.”

  “Tell Rachel she’s going to be okay.” He hesitated. “I love you, sis.”

  “I love you too, Clay. Tell everyone. Rachel sends her love too.” For Rachel’s sake, Christie didn’t want to say Steel’s name. She didn’t want to imply they might not survive.

  “You can tell them yourself, sis. See you soon.” Clay hung up.

  Christie put the phone away. Rachel’s face was strained, her red hair in tangles around her neck. Christie couldn’t imagine what the young teen was feeling. Her anger rose over a poacher threatening Steel’s daughter.

  She tried to sound optimistic. “Okay, Rach. Clay is coming. So are the police. Twenty minutes. We’re going to go north along the tree line to the top of the meadow, then we’ll cross to the east in the trees there. Clay will be there to help us.”

  Rachel’s voice was hushed. “Okay.”

  Christie considered how to exit. “We have to be quiet, but we can’t move too slowly in case the man is coming up toward us. You go northeast, to the next big tree trunk. Say that Douglas fir over there.” She pointed to it. “You crouch, stay low, and be as quiet as you can. I’ll cover for you. When you reach the tree, use your binoculars to look south, west to east. If it’s clear, you give me a thumbs up and cover for me while I come to you.” She eyed the Luger in Rachel’s hand. “Holster the gun. If you fall, you want your hands free.”

  Rachel shoved the Luger into the holster on her right hip.

  Christie placed a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “If I get caught in a shootout, I want you to keep moving, tree to tree. You make sure you reach Clay and tell him where I am.”

  Rachel lifted her jaw. “I’m not leaving you!”

  Christie felt a wave of emotion in her chest. Rachel was just like Steel. “If you get out, you can help me by reaching Clay. If we both get pinned down here, the poacher might have a lot of ammo and have us at a disadvantage.”

  Rachel’s eyes were downcast, her voice subdued. “Okay.”

  Christie wanted to hug her again, but they had to move now. “Ready? Can you do this?”

  Rachel stiffened. “I can do it.”

  “Good girl. Okay, give me a second.” Using the binoculars, Christie scanned west to south to southeast. “All clear. Go, Rach!”

  Rachel took off, making herself small as she ran, her footfalls quiet. Christie didn’t see anything in the forest.

  Rachel reached the Douglas fir and slid behind it. Christie saw her peeking out with her binoculars—in moments she gave Christie a thumbs up.

  Christie placed the binoculars beneath her sweat shirt—awkward, but they wouldn’t swing around. She kept her gun in her hand.

  Hunching low, she ran at an even pace, using as much care as possible for where she placed her feet. Several times she winced when the occasional sticks or plants beneath her hiking boots resulted in a crunch. But she made it to the tree. She gave a thumbs up to Rachel, dug out the binoculars, and searched the forest to the south. Nothing. Looking northeast, she said, “That big cedar next, Rach. Go!”

  Rachel took off immediately.

  After scanning the forest again, Christie felt optimistic. For all they knew the poacher was south, waiting for them near the path. She hoped so. Glancing northeast, she watched Rachel.

  The teen had almost reached the big cedar. She just had to slide over a big deadfall resting a half-foot above the ground. One leg over, the
n the next.

  As Rachel landed on both feet, a man dressed in camo stepped out from behind the cedar. He grabbed Rachel’s right arm and jerked her into a headlock, wrapping her own arm around her neck, while pressing his silenced pistol to her temple.

  CHAPTER 18

  It was the big man from the meadow that Rachel had shot. Christie sized him up; heavy facial features, muscular, a short beard, six-two, two-hundred-thirty pounds. He towered over Rachel. And with her arm tied up, Rachel had no chance to draw the Luger on her right hip.

  Christie’s gun was waist-high. If she brought it up to take a headshot, she wouldn’t be fast enough. Rachel could die. A stain darkened the man’s camo jacket on his left shoulder where Rachel had shot him. Tough guy to be able to handle the pain and injury, but it would mean he was weaker on the left side, where he was holding Rachel.

  “Drop the gun now or I’ll kill the girl,” the man said gruffly. He smirked. “Christy.”

  Christie felt chills run down her back. Why would the man know her name? Steel always advised, If it looks like they’re going to kill you, then take a chance instead of hoping to be a hostage that lives. But Christie couldn’t bear to see Rachel killed because of her. Thus she complied, slowly dropping the SIG at her feet. While she did this, she watched Rachel slide her left hand to her lower back. Christie gave no recognition or encouragement. Rachel’s possible success scared her as much as her potential failure. If the man had a hair trigger on his gun, Rachel could be dead in the next few seconds.

  Straightening, Christie lifted her chin. “What do you want?”

  The man snorted. “Everything. Since you ruined our bear hunt, we’ll have to be satisfied with you two.” He gave the two-note whistle of a black-capped chickadee, which sounded like fee-bee.

  The same clear whistle came from the forest to the southwest. The other poacher. Christie couldn’t be sure how far away he was. Seventy to a hundred yards.