Army of Two (2 page)

She gave the meeting room a quick scan to ensure there were sufficient chairs, though there would be only nine in the party, then headed for the back staircase and went to check on the progress in the kitchen. By the time she walked into the lobby, the helicopter was practically level with the front windows. The black-and-gold logo of the Petherick Corporation flashed from its gleaming-white fuselage as it did a hovering turn to line up for its landing. She pressed her palm to her stomach, annoyed to feel butterflies.

That was how Mitch always used to affect her. He’d been tall, dark and as dashing as any young girl could dream. A romantic hero who had come to life in an army uniform. In her eyes he’d been perfect.

Of course, the reality had been something else entirely, she thought, pulling on her jacket as she stepped outside. No man could have lived up to the expectations she’d put on him. In her head, she knew that. She understood it wasn’t fair to resent Mitch simply because he hadn’t shared her fantasy.

But he’d been her first love…and the first man to break her heart. No woman ever forgot that. How on earth was she supposed to pretend indifference?

“I learned about this place from my cousin.” Graham Petherick leaned closer to Mitch and shouted into his headset over the noise of the engine. “He spent two weeks here this past June, said the togue practically jumped into his boat. That’s what the locals call lake trout.”

Mitch craned his neck to look out the window. There was a wooden dock and what appeared to be a boathouse at the lakeshore. A long, switchbacking staircase rose from the water’s edge to a large building constructed mainly of logs and glass. Like the staircase, the structure appeared to cling to the bare rock. An observation deck jutted from one side while a mix of maples and pine cloaked the hill on the other where the slope was less steep. Although, to call it a hill didn’t do it justice. Before it had been worn down by glaciers and a few millennia of weather, it would have been a mountain. “I didn’t know you were a fisherman,” he said.

Graham laughed. “I’m not. Never saw the appeal of trying to outwit a fish. I’ll take a rifle over a fishing rod any day.”

That figured, Mitch thought. Graham had made his first million more than four decades ago manufacturing firearms. He was currently building another fortune by producing far more powerful—and more expensive—firepower for the U.S. Military. He was a good businessman and never failed to deliver high-quality products. Much of the Petherick Corporation’s success was due to its policy of understanding what the customer needed ahead of time.

That was the purpose of this week in the North Woods with the company’s top executives. It wasn’t about sales, it was about determining the next direction the development department should take. From what Mitch had understood, they were looking into a new signal-dampening device that could neutralize an enemy’s detection systems. Graham had invited Mitch and three other army officers because he’d expected to pick their collective brains, not their wallets. Not at this stage, anyway.

The helicopter drifted over the roof of the lodge and headed toward a cleared area on the crest of the hill above where a white circle had been painted on the rock. Moments later, the landing gear bumped against the ground. Graham buttoned a red-and-black plaid jacket over his paunch, slapped Mitch on the shoulder and moved toward the exit door. “Grab your gear, ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted. “My pilot wants to get back by nightfall, so once this bird leaves, we’re on our own.”

The men and women from Petherick Corporation who had accompanied Graham didn’t appear as enthusiastic about their destination as their boss did. They consisted of two vice presidents, the company comptroller and the director of research, and they looked as if they’d come straight from the office. The backwash from the prop blades tore at their suits as they ducked their heads and dragged their wheeled suitcases across the rocky hilltop.

The army men were dressed in more casual clothes. From what Mitch had heard, the general and both of the colonels who’d been invited on this trip often consulted with the Petherick Corporation. They spent most of their time riding desks at the Pentagon. He’d hate being saddled with a duty like that—he far preferred to be in the field with his men. Since this was Mitch’s first time at one of Graham’s brainstorming sessions, he hadn’t met these officers before today. He wasn’t familiar with anyone here except Graham.

And Chantal Leduc.

It had been almost two decades since he’d seen her. He’d been surprised to learn she’d ended up at a resort in Maine, of all places. That was a puzzle. He couldn’t picture the pampered child of his former commanding officer wanting to live in a setting this uncivilized.

The whine of the rotors increased, sending grit and dead leaves rippling across the rock. The helicopter lifted off more quickly than it had landed, did a quarter turn and dipped its nose toward the water as it headed back across the lake. Before the noise of its departure could fade, a slender woman had emerged from the woods at the crest of the hill and walked toward them.

She moved with the easy grace of a dancer, as if she heard music that no one else could. Black denim clung to her long legs and the curve of her hips. A suede jacket the color of chocolate hugged her shoulders while the evening breeze sent the ends of her long, dark hair teasing around her face. Her smile, her body language, everything about her projected control, confidence and poise.

This couldn’t possibly be Chantal.

“Welcome to the Aerie,” she said, offering her hand to Graham, who was in the lead of the group. “I’m Chantal Leduc.”

Mitch tried not to stare. It was her, all right. Her voice still had the distinctive, smokey undertone that he would recognize anywhere. Instead of the bubbly enthusiasm that used to infuse her words, she now spoke with unhurried, perfect enunciation, just as her mother had. Once again, he was struck by how odd it was to find her here. Chantal had adored her mother and had been on her way to becoming a carbon copy of her, but that woman would have been more comfortable on the veranda of a plantation house, ordering the servants to bring her more mint juleps. She wouldn’t have been caught dead presiding over a resort in the wilderness.

A loon warbled its howling cry from somewhere on the lake. Several people in the group startled and looked around nervously. Chantal calmed them with a smile and paused to explain what they’d heard.

A boy and a couple who appeared to be in their early twenties arrived to help carry the guests’ luggage. Only Petherick’s suit-clad people accepted the offer. Chantal politely directed everyone toward a graveled path bordered with rounded stones that led downward through the trees. Mitch slung the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder. Although she had smiled vaguely in his direction, she hadn’t yet met his gaze.

She had to have known he was coming. Was she trying to postpone the awkward moment, or did she intend to ignore him for the entire week? She’d had a penchant for disregarding reality when she’d been a teenager. He wondered whether that hadn’t changed. He stepped forward before she could follow the others. “Hello, Chantal.”

To her credit, there was no hesitation in her response. “Good evening, Major Redinger.” She didn’t offer her hand. Instead, she gave him the same, gracious smile that she’d given when she’d talked about the loon. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“It has indeed, Major.”

Major, not Mitch. She was drawing a distinct line. He wasn’t sure why that irritated him. He should be pleased. “How is the general?” he asked. “I haven’t seen him since he retired.”

“My father’s well, thank you.”

“I heard he moved to Arizona.”

“Yes. The drier climate seems to agree with him.”

“That’s good.”

“Yes.” She inclined her head toward the gap in the trees and started moving once more. “I hope you enjoy your stay at the Aerie. I’ll show you to your room so you can unpack before dinner. Our cook is preparing grilled trout with blueberry sauce.”

That was as personal as she would allow the conversation to get. Mitch fell into step beside her, studying her as they walked, trying to spot traces of the girl’s face in the woman’s. The pale blue eyes that had been her most outstanding feature had new shadows in their depths. There were dramatic hollows beneath her cheekbones and a lushness to her lips. He could see that the prettiness she’d possessed as a teenager had honed itself into a mature beauty.

It wasn’t only her face that had matured, either. The blouse she wore under her suede jacket pulled taut across a pair of generous breasts. He’d already noticed her attractively curved hips. Combined with the way she moved, her body projected a ripe sexuality. Little Chantal was now a woman in her prime.

And despite his best intentions, his body responded.

Damn. He hadn’t expected this. He’d thought that almost two decades would have dulled the reaction.

Nevertheless, the image of how Chantal had looked when they’d parted flitted through Mitch’s mind. He strove to block it out, as he always did.

He didn’t want to remember. She belonged to a chapter of his past that he preferred to forget.

The air was thick with the smell of fuel, sweat and damp cement, but the hangar doors would remain closed until the men completed the loading. They couldn’t run the risk of witnesses at this stage. Lewis Knox hadn’t remained alive this long by being careless.

A thin, ponytailed figure moved through the illumination of the truck headlights and rounded the nose of the black chopper. It was Ted Bamford, their communications man. “I just got a message from our contact.”

“Well?”

“They arrived four hours ago, right on schedule.”

“Was Petherick with them?”

“Big as life.”

“Any more details?”

“Like what?” Bamford snorted a laugh. “You’re wondering how the fishing is?”

Lewis strove for patience. As long as he needed Bamford’s skill with electronics, he had to put up with his attitude. “Names. Room assignments.”

“Oh, right. I didn’t get any names, but I did hear their rooms are on the top floor.”

“What about the resort staff?”

“They’re all tucked in for the night, behind the kitchen at the back.”

Lewis unfolded the sketched floor plan their contact had provided and tilted it toward the light. So far, this was just as he’d expected. “All right. Once we block the rear exit, we’ll bottle up the staff. The fewer we need to kill in the initial assault, the more hostages we’ll have later. Which of the rooms were given to the military personnel?”

“I don’t know. What difference does that make?”

“They’re the only ones likely to offer resistance.” He tapped his finger against each of the staircases. “We need to neutralize them before they can reach the exits. We’ll strike before dawn. Hit hard and hit fast.”

“I wouldn’t worry about those army dudes. I thought your friend said Petherick only deals with desk jockeys. Guys who’re already halfway out to pasture.”

“Complacency can get you killed, Bamford.”

He slapped one hand against the submachine gun that hung from his shoulder. “Not with what I’ll be carrying.”

Lewis refolded the sketch, stored it in his shirt pocket, then kicked Bamford’s feet from under him and snatched the gun while he was on his way down. He pressed the end of the barrel against Bamford’s throat to pin him on the floor. “Don’t underestimate your adversary.”

“What the hell… How’d you do that?”

“This is only one of the lessons the army taught me.”

“Damn it, Knox. You’re crazy.”

He flicked down the safety and caressed the trigger. “That’s what they claimed. Maybe you’d like out. Is that what you want, Bamford? You want to quit?”

“I never said that.”

“If you stay, you need to follow my orders.”

“Sure. That’s what I’ve been doing. Come on, man. Move the gun.”

Lewis looked around him. The activity near the chopper had stopped. The flight crew were lounging against a fuel drum they should have been loading and were apparently indifferent to their comrade’s fate. That wasn’t the case with Taddeo, Brown and Dodson, three of the ten men who provided the muscle for the group. They watched eagerly, no doubt hoping for blood to be spilled.

This demonstration was for their sake as much as for Bamford’s. When dealing with men like these, it was essential to establish who was in command. Like a pack of animals, they understood strength and little else. Lewis waited until he had made eye contact with every one of them, then lifted the gun barrel and used it to wave them back to work.

He had no illusions about the loyalty of the team he had assembled. They stuck with him for the sake of profit, not principles. Money was a good motivator.

But it wasn’t as effective as fear.

Chapter 2

C
hantal warmed her hands around her coffee mug as she walked along the floating dock. Streamers of mist rose from the lake, obscuring the line between water and air. The base of the staircase that zigzagged up the hillside was disappearing behind her, giving the illusion that the Aerie was floating on a cloud. The front windows reflected the lightening sky, though the sun wouldn’t rise over the horizon for another half hour.

Petherick had kept his group in the meeting room until after midnight, so Chantal had assumed none of them would be getting up this early. She liked to take a few minutes for herself before she had to start the day. Yet she hadn’t gone more than halfway to the end of the dock when the boards beneath her feet vibrated with the sounds of someone else’s footsteps. She turned to look behind her.

A tall man in a black leather bomber-style jacket materialized from the mist. She recognized him instinctively, even before he drew close enough for her to make out his features. Only one person had ever been able to give her pulse a bump like this.

Wonderful. So much for her few moments of peace. She took a sip of her coffee and put on her hostess smile. She could do this. The first night was already behind them. Only six more days and nights to go. “Good morning, Major. I see you found your way to the kitchen.”