Soldier's Heart Part Four: Brotherhood Protectors World

by Ilsa J. Bick

  No, she probably didn’t. She felt the blood drain from her face and her lips go cold. She supposed that, in daylight, Wynn might’ve remarked she looked like she’d seen a ghost, and in a way, that was true.

  Because her tracker had just turned itself on, all by itself.

  Chapter 3

  “Listen,” Mark said, “you want to know why those guys are tracking me? Grab a scalpel, cut open one of the plugs you took from my bag.” When Sarah only stared, he rapped, impatiently, “It’s heroin, all right? And wear a mask. Don’t let the dogs breathe it in.”

  She did what he said. When she fileted a plug, powder spilled out...as well as a half-dozen transparent bits she first thought might be glass until she fished one up with forceps—and saw the sparkle.

  “I got twenty packets and that’s from just one kid. You’re talking an easy half million, maybe more,” Mark rasped. He was propped a good distance away because even with zip ties around his ankles and wrists, she trusted the guy about as far as she could throw him. “You get it, now?”

  She did. The girl on her cot was packing a fortune in heroin...and diamonds.

  “Who are these people? The men I talked to?” she asked. “Who’s coming?”

  Mark’s gray eyes were the color of ash. “The guys who are going to kill us both.”

  A stone of dread solidified in the pit of her stomach. Sarah had known they weren’t search and rescue or National Guard, because they’d screwed up. When she’d gotten suspicious and asked them to relay a message to Deputy Peter Cooper to please swing by her place and feed Soldier, there’d been the cheery comeback—essentially a ten-four good-buddy, Deputy Cooper would be happy to do that, ma’am, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.

  Except Peter Cooper had never been a deputy—and was also very dead. She thought maybe Hank might be now, too.

  And all for this. Her gaze fell to her kitchen table—to the baggy she’d split with a scalpel, releasing a mound of powder and sparkling gems. Heroin…and diamonds.

  What the hell was she supposed to do now? What could she do?

  A split in the woodstove popped, and she blinked in a sort of stupefied surprise, as if waking from a dream. Dozing on the floor by Sarah’s feet, Daisy twitched, cracked open an eye, yawned, and then settled back with a small moan. On the cot to the right of the woodstove, the elfish-looking Asian girl was still, her bandages showing some rust where her wounds oozed, though her chest moved in deep, even breaths as the IV Mark had placed steadily drip-dripped. Only Soldier and Mark were alert, watching her—Soldier with his steady amber gaze and Mark with his as cold as dead ash.

  Mark broke the silence first. “So, you get it now? These guys mean business.”

  No doubt about that. So, actually, had Mark if the gear she’d confiscated from his pack and spread upon her table was any indication—medical supplies, a strappy-looking contraption that must be an IPC. Pete once said an individualized personnel carrier allowed a soldier to carry a wounded comrade and still have both hands free. There was also a cell she’d squared on a hardcover novel Hank had read during his visit and left for her. The book, a thriller-cop thing by John Sandford, was not her usual cuppa, but this one was about a woman hitman and she kind of liked it. Mark also had a handgun which she’d recognized as a Glock because Hank carried one, too, as well as extra magazines and a few boxes of ammunition. She ran a finger over a stripped-down rifle with a shiny steel barrel mounted in a greenish-gray camo chassis with a collapsible stock and a bipod near the front to steady the weapon. An olive-green silencer. Mark was, as Hank might say, loaded for bear.

  Which meant that she was, too. Her eyes shifted again to the Sandford novel. Some good pointers in there, actually.

  “We got to be long gone before these get here, you understand?” There was an impatient-sounding scuffle as Mark’s boots scraped on wood. “You cunt, you’re going to cut these damn zip ties or—” He broke off as Soldier let go of a low, menacing rumble. At the sound, Daisy jolted awake. Scrambling to her feet, the little dog bared her teeth at Mark in a growl.

  “I don’t think they like your tone, Mark.” She heard the nasty edge. That was all right. She’d earned a bad hair day. “I’d watch your mouth. You never know. They might bite.”

  “You’d never sic that shepherd on me,” he spluttered. “You don’t know how.”

  “How to...what?” She made a keep it rolling motion with a finger. She was enjoying the look on his face, that spark of fear, although he might only be worrying if a stupid little girl like her knew how to control her dog. “If I were you, I’d worry more whether I know how to call him off.”

  “Okay, fine. Okay. You made your point.” Mark’s lips trembled as he leaned. “Now, can you please calm him the fuck down?”

  A petty impulse—That’s pretty please to you. “I think he’s taking his cue from you, Mark. I’d really calm the fuck down, if I were you.” Thinking: Sarah Grant, what are you doing? But she knew the answer, didn’t she? She was on her own. Without taking her eyes from Mark, she reached a hand and ruffled Soldier’s ears. “It’s all right. You don’t have to eat him just yet.”

  “Very funny.” Mark’s shoulders slumped with relief as Soldier lapped at her fingers. Daisy let her growl go one more second before nosing past Soldier for a pat. “Now, can you please get me out of these things so I can do something useful like avoid getting killed?”

  “You keep saying that and that’s what I don’t get.” She felt a weirdly perverse little thrill at how shitty he looked now—hair all mussed, glops of gluey stew speckling that well-trimmed beard, a runner of snot crusted into his moustache. “I mean, your friends killing me, well, that’s a no-brainer. I totally get it. Even the girl...by the way, does she have a name?”

  Mark’s jaws worked. “Tien, I think. Although all these gook kids look alike.”

  Nice guy. “Okay, but here’s what I don’t get. I understand killing me and Tien. But why would they kill you? Hell, you saved the day. You found Tien. You even kept her alive, and these are presumably your buddies. So, why are you freaking out?”

  “What are you, deaf as well as stupid?” Mark’s cheeks flushed. “I told you. My people monitor Channel 6. My people communicate at very specific intervals.”

  “Oh.” All her sarcastic bravado, and it had been mostly an act because inside her guts were in knots, vanished. Because, yes, she did get it now. The people she’d talked to were on Channel 21.8. Mark’s people and these people weren’t the same. “Who are these guys?”

  “People you really don’t want to meet and I don’t need to see again. Listen, the long and the short of it is, Canada’s a sieve when it comes to illegals, especially Asians. Some of them end up down south in California. Others are, you know...they’re dispersed. I’m not privy to all the details. I’m just the medic. Have I done these runs before? Yes, but none where the girls were smuggling diamonds. I wasn’t even supposed to know about them.”

  “Then, how do you?”

  His gray eyes drooped a little. “Let’s just say I found out. It’s not important how. But once I did, I thought, Christ, if I can get my hands on just one of these girls, I’m set. Know what I’m saying? So, me and some buddies arranged for a couple girls to get away.”

  Now, she got it. “Let me guess. You knew you’d be sent to track them down and round them up. Were you alone?”

  “No, me and one other guy named Henderson.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “What happened to him?”

  “I cut his throat. Quieter than a bullet.” Mark’s eyes were cobra-flat. “A two-way split is better than a three-way. He was kind of a jerk anyway. A real mouth-breather.”

  Three-way split. Who was the second man? “What about these?” She picked up the baggy stuffed with wax-coated plugs of heroin and diamonds. “What were you going to do with them? Just waltz back into camp with them?” She couldn’t imagine he’d swallow them himself.

  “No, I wasn’t planning on waltzin
g back, that’s the whole point. Once I found you, I got in touch with my guy, told him what was up. I think that’s when things must’ve gone sideways, too. There are really only two possibilities. Either I got double-crossed or Lambert and Oz...they’re the ones in charge…they caught on to my guy. They might have gotten him to talk. Either way, only my guy knew where I was and who you were.”

  And now this Lambert and Oz knew—and were on their way. They’d told her not to trust Mark, which meant they would expect her to remain in the dark. She could see how they’d do it, too. It would be a repeat of how Mark gained her trust. They would have all the right words and she would be grateful someone had come to rescue little old her. “How many guys?”

  Mark thought about that. “Could be two or three, maybe four, depending. But they’d want to keep someone with the girls, so I’m thinking three, max.”

  “Okay.” Rising, she replaced all Mark’s things into his pack, except the Glock, the knife. That stripped-down rifle. Crossing the room, she pulled on her parka then took a roll of duct tape from a peg.

  “What are you doing?” Mark asked.

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she studied Tien’s face, put the back of her hand on the girl’s forehead. No hotter than before, so that was good. Bending close, she whispered into the girl’s left ear, “Honey? Can you hear me?”

  No response. She really hadn’t expected one. But now she also saw that Tien’s eyes roved beneath their lids. Dreaming. She thought that was probably was a good sign. Reaching for a blanket, she draped it over a line running between two joists.

  “You going to tell me, or do I get to guess?” Mark asked.

  “What’s it look like, Einstein?” She twitched the blanket into place. “If she regains consciousness, one look at you and she’ll freak out. She doesn’t need the aggravation.” Neither did she. “Don’t even think about fighting.” Grabbing a roll of duct tape from a peg next to her parka, she gave Mark a wide berth as she circled around, reached for the Glock in her pocket then hesitated. Several days ago, Soldier had freaked at the sight of a toy gun in a little kid’s hand. On the other hand, that had also been in conjunction with the sound of a truck backfiring, which Soldier had perceived as a threat. Earlier this evening, she’d handled the gun, and the dog hadn’t been concerned or even twitched. What would happen, though, if shooting started? Soldier could be a real problem.

  At the moment, she also didn’t have a choice. The gun was a tool she had to use. Calling the dogs to heel on her left, she waited until they’d both sat then pressed the muzzle to the back of Mark’s head. “You’re right. I know something about guns...no, no,” she said as he opened his mouth. “Don’t speak, don’t move unless I ask you a question. Now, what channel do these guys, Lambert and Oz, use?”

  She felt him think about it, half expecting him to blow her off because she didn’t have the guts. “You’re not going to kill me,” he said, finally. “I know things you don’t.”

  “True,” she said then shifted the gun just to the right of Mark’s ear and pulled the trigger.

  She was only semi-prepared. After all, she’d only just read about this in a Sandford novel, not experienced it in real life.

  The bang was tremendous in the closed space. Mark let out a loud cry and jumped, flinching his head left as the bullet zinged past. Splinters flew in a small geyser as a round black hole appeared in the floor, as if the wood had been startled awake and popped open an eye. Both dogs moved, but Daisy was the one to leap a foot away.

  Soldier only flinched, but he did not attack.

  All right then. She expelled a breath she hadn’t known she’d held. Clearly, if she was the one with the gun, that was within the parameters of what Soldier knew. Made sense, too. No one wanted a dog attacking its handler. If she were the one under threat, she thought, Soldier wouldn’t hesitate. The dog had already proven that.

  Mark was yelling. “Are you crazy? You want to blow my head off?”

  She didn’t bother pointing out that if that had been the case, she could’ve done that, too. Wow, the things you can learn from a book. She clearly needed to read more thrillers.

  “What if I’d moved or something?” A small patch of black powder smeared the tip of Mark’s ear. “Jesus, I can’t hear a goddamned thing!”

  Her own ears rang. Yet, as monstrous as it had been, the shot hadn’t awakened Tien. “You just hold that thought, Mark. That, yeah, maybe I am a little crazy now. You killed someone I care about.”

  “No, no.” He made a move to shake his head then seemed to think better of it. “I shot at him, okay? But I don’t think I hit him.”

  Oh, Hank. The floor tried to give way beneath her feet. “What happened?”

  The words came fast. “He found something. He was on the ridge, and he got a look down valley, and there was...look, I couldn’t afford that. I knew he was a deputy on account of his hat. I figured he might call it in, whatever. So, I took a shot. I know I didn’t hit him, though. When I got down there, there was no blood. There would’ve been, even if I nicked him.”

  A bloom of black dread unfurled in her chest. She didn’t want to know what Hank had found; she was afraid to know. “What happened to him? Where did you take the shot?”

  “Off-trail. About an hour from here.” Mark licked his lips. “A ridge.”

  Oh God. “He fell?”

  “Yeah. One minute he was there and the next, he wasn’t. I saw him go over.” Short, clipped, to the point. “It was pretty high.”

  Translation—Hank was probably dead. Actually, a lot more than probably.

  “Don’t move, don’t fight.” Muscling back her rage and grief, she pressed the muzzle against his skull again. For a split second, she thought, Why the hell are you always so good, Sarah? She wanted this man dead then thought, no, she wanted him to pay. Montana had the death penalty, but the state hadn’t executed anyone since 2006. She thought she might put in a word, suggest the guy slowly rot in a cell for the rest of his life. “Don’t even think about it. Try anything, and I’ll let the dog take you down.” She wouldn’t unless as a last-ditch thing, but he didn’t know that.

  Dragging him by his collar into the bedroom was tougher with one hand than two. Mark also went limp because the asshole really wanted her to struggle. Still, she managed. The dogs padded after, interested but not alarmed, and she didn’t try to stop them because they were her insurance. Daisy might only damage Mark’s ankles, but better than nothing.

  “Awww,” Mark drawled as she’d muscled him to the bed, “all you had to do was ask.”

  “Shut up. Don’t move.” Grabbing his wrists, she looped duct tape around both them and a leg of the bed then did it twice more. “Just sit tight.”

  “Oh, ha-ha.” Mark’s face was the color of a plum. “What if I have to pee?”

  “I think you’re out of favors and life is filled with little inconveniences. Deal with it.”

  “Hey!” Mark shouted as she headed for the door which led to a back storeroom. “Where are you going? You can’t leave me here like this.”

  You shot at Hank. You sent him to his death. I can do whatever the hell I want. “Any more noise, I’m gonna tape your mouth shut. I mean it. Then just think about this. This room is colder than out front.” This was nothing new, actually. This cabin wasn’t insulated or designed to keep a person toasty, just on the other side of uncomfortable. She haahed a breath cloud. “Cold enough to see your breath.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s physiology, Mark. When it’s cold and dry, your nose responds by producing a lot more snot. Your nose is running already.”

  “And?” As if she’d reminded him, he snuffled. “What’s your point?”

  “You force me to tape your mouth, and you being all snotty? A guy could get all stuffed up. He could suffocate.” Forcing her mouth into what she hoped was a feral grin, she headed for the storeroom. “Think about it.”

  Chapter 4

  “What do you mean, into the mountain?�
� Kate rasped. Part of her cared, but mostly, she didn’t. Because why was her tracker on? She hadn’t activated it. Had Jack? No, that was insane...wasn’t it? Jack knew some of what was going on while I was out. When I came to, he said he’d been doing his job. And what was that? The old entrance is barricaded. So are all the escape shafts they dropped trying to rescue miners who’d been trapped in the slide.

  “Yes, but they can only cap or barricade what they know about,” Wynn said. “The mine’s owner also excavated routes through the mountain to his estate.”

  Gabriel Dane had mentioned that. Dead Man’s owner had been some whacked-out Scotsman from Alabama. McGillicuddy or McDougal or whatever. Mc-something or other.

  Jack spoke up. “McGillivray.”

  Jack! It took all her self-control not to shout. Why can’t I access the tracker?

  “I don’t know, Kate. It might be a fail-safe of which I’m unaware.”

  Can you override? Wait, what was she saying? It was as she was giving an order to a computer program to shut down another. If that was true, what did that make her?

  “…fake branches, corridors leading nowhere.”

  “What?” Blinking, she snapped to. “The tunnels?”

  “Yeah.” Wynn’s eyebrows furrowed. “I was saying that McGillivray laid a number of blind tunnels and many were booby-trapped. Only the right people were allowed access.”

  They could be talking about her and her screwy brain. “How is it you have a map? I thought you were just security.”

  “I am. Lambert and Oz are the only ones with the map.” Anticipating her next question, he said, “Each of them had it on a SIM.”

  Now, she got it. “That’s why you wanted Lambert’s radio. What did you do, substitute his SIM with a blank?”

  Wynn nodded. “He probably doesn’t know yet. If he did, he’d have alerted Paulsen. Right now, I’m betting he has his hands full and won’t think to check until we’re long gone.”

  “They still have Oz’s map.”