A Triple Thriller Fest (47 page)

“No, Dan, we should—”

“Listen, Nicole. I’ve been thinking about it, and it makes sense.” He squatted down, wiping the rain from his face and tugging at Nicole’s hood, shielding her eyes from the rain. “If I’d thought this through better, I would’ve dropped you off at a suitable spot back on the main highway before I headed back up the mountain. After their truck passed, you could have flagged down a car and gotten a ride into town with the disks safely in your possession. I just didn’t think ahead and certainly didn’t plan on another brigade bunch coming from the other side of the mountain. What I’ve realized is that I’m not the only one raised in these hills. Several of the brigade boys know them quite well, also. I’m afraid they might know about the Scout hut, even though it’s been out of use for many years.”

“But then they’ll come directly to you.”

“Possibly. But even if they do, I should be able to stall them until morning. They won’t take any action against me until they get orders from their commander. And besides, the cabin is located right in the middle of the last coordinates we gave Connor.”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“Nicole,” he said, “I know this is your case, but this is
my
territory. The brigade’s not stupid. They won’t just kill me without trying to determine where the disks are. I plan to tell them I left you back on Highway 53 and that by now you’ve got the disks safely at FBI headquarters in San Francisco.”

Nicole thought for a moment and began to see the merit of the argument. “All right, Dan. But if you get caught—”

“I probably will, but that’s our plan. Remember?”

Hunkered down beneath a rock outcropping, the rain no longer dripping from her hooded jacket, Nicole listened as the sounds of Dan’s retreat diminished. Lightning had begun to streak across the sky, and in the quick flash of those natural floodlights, she thought she caught a glimpse of the cabin in the direction Dan had indicated. Holding her coat tight around her, she tried to get comfortable in the face of a long wait.

Less than thirty minutes after Dan left, she was astonished to hear faint voices approaching. Dan had felt they had a good hour-and-a-half head start from the time the brigade would find the Blazer. Nicole squirmed back farther under the rock overhang and tried to still her breathing. She listened as the voices approached and came to a stop only yards away from her position, conferring on the other side of a cluster of rocks. She could make out three or perhaps four voices, and after several seconds of garbled speech, the talking ceased, leaving only the sound of falling rain in the darkness.

* * *

Dan had been in the Boy Scout hut just over half an hour when he heard the first sounds. It had seemed like hours, during which he had second-guessed himself several times, concerned that should Nicole be captured, he’d never know it—and even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. The flaw in the plan was his ignorance of what was happening outside. He was trapped, somewhat like a rabbit run to warren, waiting for the fox to find the entrance.

The door burst open, and two men dressed in full camouflage gear entered the shelter, one wearing goggles Dan recognized instantly as a night-vision device. That accounted for how they had been able to cover the ground so quickly. Dan had started a Coleman lantern after entering the cabin—part of the emergency Boy Scout equipment left behind in the hut. That lantern provided the only light, far too much, however, for the man with goggles. He removed them just as a third man came in the doorway. Mild surprise showed on his face as he recognized Dan, a fact that eluded Dan until the man stepped farther into the light. It was unmistakably Jackson Shaw. As soon as he stepped into the dimly lit room, the even more familiar face of Roger Dahlgren appeared in the doorway.

“Well, Mr. Rawlings,” Shaw said, “what a pleasant surprise. Camping on such a night, or are you just earning a few more Boy Scout merit badges?” Shaw stepped farther into the small cabin and turned to face one of the men who had not taken his eyes or his weapon off Dan since he entered. “Sergeant Krueger, secure the perimeter.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, leaving the cabin.

Shaw pulled a stool out from under a rickety table and sat down facing Dan, who was standing with his back up against the far wall of the hut. Dahlgren entered and sat on the edge of an old, wooden bunk bed.

“Lose your companion, Mr. Rawlings?”

Dan maintained a blank stare, holding Shaw’s eyes. “Companion?”

“Rawlings,” Shaw said, spitting on the floor of the cabin, “save the tap dance for someone else. Where’s the girl?” he demanded.

“You must mean Agent Bentley,” Dan replied. Glancing casually at his watch, Dan looked again at Shaw. “By now, she’s probably back at her office in San Francisco.”

Shaw smiled. “Right! Beam me up, Scotty. Is that it, Rawlings? You expect me to believe that?”

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “Believe what you will, Shaw. If she’s not there yet, she’s at least well on the way. Look, we can save each other a lot of time. We saw your men at Stevenson’s cabin and when we made a run for it, I left her out on the highway, intending to hide until your men passed. I then took the fire trail back over the mountain to lead them off. By now, she will have flagged down a passing car and made it into the city, or at least to a police station.”

Shaw remained expressionless, evaluating this bit of information.

“We might as well all hike back down to our vehicles and go home,” Dan said,  pushing his luck. “There’s nothing I have that you want, Shaw.”

Shaw slowly shook his head side to side, a sneer forming on his face. “Rawlings, you just don’t get it, do you? We’re at
war.
And you’re not even one of the enemy—entitled to POW treatment under the Geneva Convention. You’re a Californian and a member of
our
legislature—a traitor, as I see it.”

Dan remained silent, trying to evaluate Shaw’s mood. If he decided Dan had outwitted him and gotten Nicole away, it might serve only to infuriate Shaw, who seemed quite content to take his victories where he could find them. Sgt. Krueger reentered the room and whispered something to Shaw, who stood, kicking the stool over. Krueger handed Shaw a cellular phone, and Shaw stepped out through the door.

* * *

Shaw’s earlier report to Wolff, that they had Agent Bentley caught in a trap, had brought explicit instructions:
Get the disks, kill her, and dispose of her body.

Wolff’s anger at the news that Bentley hadn’t been found, though Rawlings had, brought a change of instructions: “Hold him until daylight, and then we’ll move him. Leave two men with him and check out Bentley’s place. She is, after all, a woman. She might have gone home to get cleaned up and change clothes. Follow those orders, Shaw. Stay in touch, and don’t go off half-cocked!”

Shaw tried to convince Wolff to let him dispose of Rawlings, but Wolff was adamant.

“Not yet. I’ll tell you when.”

* * *

As Shaw reentered the cabin, Dan and Roger Dahlgren were involved in a silent staring contest. Shaw whispered something to Krueger, who stepped outside again, and Shaw resumed his seat facing Dan.

“You really don’t get it, do you, Rawlings? I’m surprised, because your own book has some parallels.”

Dan broke eye contact with Dahlgren and looked toward Shaw.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Shaw continued, “I’ve read the newest hot novel, just to see what makes you tick. You’ve chosen the wrong side this time, and put a blemish on your family’s history.”

“And does the history of the brigade take lightly to murder?” Dan asked.

“Murder?” Shaw once again shook his head. “Rawlings, you’re denser than I thought. Try to get it through your thick skull. It’s war! That changes everything. What you call
murder
is execution—of traitors who stand in the way of victory. Idiots like you, who haven’t the courage to know where to stand, how to read the future,” he said, allowing the thought to sink in. “But that’s okay. You and Nathan Hale’s buddy, Benjamin Rumsey, are gonna have something in common. I hadn’t thought of the garrote until I read your book—the British had a lot of experience dealing with traitors, and the garrote was the perfect answer. We’ll give that proper consideration in your case—but you’re both gonna have unmarked graves and just disappear. ‘
An ignominious end,
’ isn’t it?” Shaw said, quoting
Voices in My Blood
.

Dan looked into Shaw’s eyes and saw only pleasure. He could see that Shaw relished the idea of putting fear into a man.

“Gotta leave you for awhile, Mr. Rawlings,” Shaw said, standing up. “But Captain Dahlgren and one of the brigade troopers will keep you company. Come sunup—that is, if you’re still around to
see
sunup—we’ll meet again. Be a good boy, Mr. Rawlings, and the troops will treat you fair. Act up, and I may not have the pleasure of using a modern-day garrote.”

Dan continued his silence as Shaw spoke again with Krueger, who had reentered the cabin with two men. He then turned to face Dahlgren.

“Bind him, Captain, and stay alert—one inside, one outside. Trade off if the weather gets worse,” Shaw ordered. “We’ll be back at first light. One more thing, Captain Dahlgren,” Shaw said, zipping up his fatigue jacket and looking intently at Dan. “If anyone other than us appears …” He hesitated, a slow grin spreading across his face as he watched Dahlgren tying Dan to the chair, his arms twisted behind his back. “… kill him, and then hightail it over the mountain.”

* * *

Nicole dropped flat as she heard approaching voices. This time, however, she had no rocky cleft in which to hide. She had slowly begun a descent toward the cabin, determined that Dan would not be tortured if she could do anything about it. As he had described his plan to her, and she could see the determination in his face, she found no reason to describe the condition of the skinheads the FBI now knew had been bludgeoned to death by members of the brigade, or the viciousness with which they had assaulted and murdered Ann Macintosh. These men were ruthless, capable of great cruelty, and she didn’t believe they would necessarily wait for orders from higher up before deciding what to do with Dan.

She hadn’t expected the men to return so quickly, however, and she was caught out in the open with only trees and bushes to hide behind. The weather was on her side—unless, of course, another lightning bolt illuminated the area. Hugging the earth, Nicole held her breath as three men passed within twenty yards without spotting her position. She lay still for several minutes after the final sounds of their movements died in the darkness, after which she resumed her cautious descent toward the cabin.

Through the darkness, she eventually crept close enough to see the dim glare from the lantern through the cabin window. The rain had stopped, and moonlight breaking through the clouds gave her an occasional glimpse of the cabin itself. But her opportunity came when the outside guard, in defiance of all military procedure, lit a cigarette, raising the night goggles to his forehead before he did so. Nicole watched silently for over an hour as a plan formed in her mind, hindered only by not knowing how many men were in the cabin. It was clear there was only the one guard outside, but there could be more inside. She only heard three or four voices when she was up on the hillside, so if three had passed on their way out, it seemed reasonable to assume that probably one, but not more than two, were in the cabin.

She checked her pistol and put it in the outer pocket of her jacket before rising to intentionally stumble the rest of the way down the hill, making as much noise as possible. She closed to within twenty yards before the guard heard her approach. He raised his rifle and challenged her in the darkness.

“Who’s there? Just hold it,” he shouted.

“Can you please help me?” Nicole pleaded. “I’m lost, and I can’t find my way back to the car.” She kept approaching, trying to appear befuddled and exhausted. “Oh, thank goodness I found you. I thought I was going to die up here on this blasted mountain.”

“Get your hands up, lady! Just hold it steady.”

Nicole stumbled forward, falling to the ground a couple of feet from the guard, breathing hard and pretending to cry. “I’m so tired and wet. Please, can you help me?”

“Get up, lady, and move toward that door,” he said, nudging her with his rifle.

Nicole acted frightened by the rifle and half-crawled, rising to her feet only as she approached the door. The guard reached around her and opened the door, shoving her through the entrance, where she fell forward to her knees.

Dahlgren jumped to his feet. “What the … who’s this, Frank?”

“Dunno. Probably the broad we was chasing. She’s lost, or so she says. Maybe we should call the commander.”

“Keep her covered,” Dahlgren said, removing a cellular phone from his jacket pocket. He pressed a speed dial button and almost immediately began to speak. “We got the female FBI agent … I don’t know. She just stumbled into the cabin … Okay, about twenty minutes.” Dahlgren hung up the phone. “Looks like your demise is closer than you thought, Rawlings,” he said, stepping toward the end of the bunk.

During the phone call, Nicole had surveyed the room. Dan was seated, hands tied behind his back, his feet bound to a chair behind the table. The single inside man, whom she’d instantly recognized as Roger Dahlgren, stood across the room. She clumsily rose to her feet, appearing to lose her balance in the process, falling up against the guard who had let her in. In a series of swift movements, she kneed him in the groin and delivered a hard karate chop to the back of the neck as he bent over. Dahlgren dropped the phone and reached for his rifle, beginning to swing it toward Dan. At the sight of Nicole’s pistol, he pointed his rifle back toward her, but Nicole’s reflexes were quicker, and she aimed her weapon directly at him while he fumbled with the rifle’s safety.

“FBI! Drop it!” she shouted, her voice now strong and decisive. “I said,
drop
it!”