Cut Out (31 page)

“Our government!” Giannini whispered, shocked, as it all sank in. “These people are working for the government?”

“Ain’t it a bitch?” Hammer said cheerfully as he pushed redial on the phone. “Of course, I’ve worked for the mob too at times.”

1:51 p.m.

Master halted his men on the near side of the Clingmans Dome parking lot and gestured for Dewar and Kramer to cross and clear the far side. He waited in the security of the downslope, out of sight, until one of them gave a yell, indicating it was safe to cross. He checked his van on the way across to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with. The other two vehicles were gone, taking the bodies of the ambush victims out of the area. Master joined his men at the building holding the restrooms for the area.

“No sign of anyone?” he asked.

“No, sir,” Kramer answered. “Area’s clear.”

Master frowned. The asset had said to meet here. The phone buzzed on his chest and he flipped it open. “Yes?”

“You there yet?” the voice on the other end asked.

“I’m at the restrooms near the Clingmans Dome parking lot,” Master answered. “Where are you?”

“Up the hill,” the voice said. “In the tower. Come up the path; I can see anyone moving cross-country, so don’t try that or I’ll put you in a world of hurt and you won’t get your door prizes.”

“Why don’t you just terminate them? I’ll give you standard pay plus a ten thousand dollar bonus,” Master said.

“Two reasons. One is I kind of like them and don’t feel like doing ’em. But more importantly, the young lady here might be worth a couple of million dollars alive. I also hear that some people in Chicago are offering half a mill for her.”

“Don’t screw with me,” Master threatened. “You know the way the game is played. I’ve got a contract, and you are either part of my side of the contract or you’re on the other side.”

“Don’t get a bug up your ass. Just come on up like I said and we’ll talk this over like the gentlemen we are.” The phone went dead.

Master turned off his phone and slowly counted to ten before speaking. “Kramer, our targets are in the observation tower on top of the hill.” He pointed to the spot where the path curved up and out of sight. “I want you to get the sniper rifle out of the van, then move around to the right and try to get an open shot. It’s imperative that you stay concealed. Keep an open mike on the FM so you can hear what’s going on.” He grabbed Kramer’s arm as he went by. “You never worked with Hammer—the fellow up there—but he’s good. You won’t get a second shot.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kramer walked to the parking lot, opened the weapons locker on the floor of the van, and extracted a Heckler & Koch PSG1 sniper rifle. He slung the weapon and the carrying case for its tripod over his shoulder, then he disappeared into the woods and made his way uphill. Master pulled out the small boom mike and the earplug for the small FM radio concealed in an upper pocket on the back of his combat vest, and made sure he had commo with Kramer. Then, with Dewar following fifty yards behind, out of sight, Master began walking up the path.

1:55 p.m.

Riley had heard Hammer’s side of the conversation and redoubled his efforts to get loose. As he worked the garrote back and forth, the coarse wire was slowly cutting through the electrical tape. It was also slicing the flesh on Riley’s wrists and hands. He could feel the blood flowing across his skin. The pain was sharp and Riley used it to keep his focus.

“How are you connected with these people?” Giannini asked.

Hammer was moving around the tower, peeking over the edge and checking all directions. “I’ve worked with them at times. Most of ‘these people,’ as you call them, have some sort of special ops background.

“Where else can you get such well-trained people who are used to doing shit jobs?” He glanced at Riley. “Correcto-mundo, buddy?”

Riley ignored Hammer. He looked over at the fourth member of the group, who had not spoken since they’d arrived here. On the other side of Giannini, Lisa was slumped against the wall, head down, and he wondered if she’d fainted.

“It’s kind of funny,” Hammer said, “but it was pure chance that I was in the right place at the right time. I didn’t know what was going on either until I spotted the surveillance in the post office at Bragg when we tried to turn her over.”

“That’s why you terminated so quickly,” Riley noted. “You recognized someone.”

“Yeah,” Hammer said, his attention now totally focused on the surrounding terrain. “I called my control from the trailer the other night to find out what was going on. They told me to hold—they wanted to get you all together, and now they have.”

“But you helped kill those men earlier today,” Giannini said, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.

“Risks of the job,” Hammer said. He glanced over his shoulder, then back to the outside world. “I wasn’t in charge of the situation and we were all split up. Also, the information about the money her husband hid away and the mob’s contract changed the complexion of everything. I made another phone call to some of my mob connections and found out that someone in Chicago is offering five hundred grand for the little lady, so I ended up with a little bit of a dilemma.”

He pointed at Riley. “If I’d taken you down alone up at the Bald, then Master would have wanted to take control, and I couldn’t allow that. Besides, you held the clackers—I didn’t do a thing.”

“That’s why you shot the wounded man,” Riley noted. “You didn’t want him to talk.”

“Partly,” Hammer acknowledged. “But the bottom line is that as long as I have the lady here, I’ve got options.”

Riley glanced at Giannini; she rolled her eyes and shook her head. He’s nuts, she mouthed silently.

Hammer chuckled. “You both are so stupid. Don’t you know it’s all a game and you got to not only learn the written rules, but also the unwritten ones? There’s a whole ’nother world out there beyond the gray. It’s all black and you’re in it now. We make up our own rules, and the number one maxim is survival of the fittest.”

“I still don’t understand why—” Giannini began, but a gesture from Hammer stopped her. He squatted down, just barely peering over the concrete.

“That’s close enough,” he yelled.

“There’s no negotiation,” Master’s voice carried clearly in the cool air. “Give over the targets.”

“They didn’t give you background on the woman, did they?” Hammer called out.

“Enough to do the job.”

“You don’t know about the two million her husband hid away or you wouldn’t have wasted him in Charlotte. And you don’t know about the half million contract put out by the mob in Chicago or you might have entertained a competing bid,” Hammer said.

“There are no competing bids,” Master replied calmly. “I do my job as contracted. Cobb was a criminal and was dealt with accordingly.”

Hammer glanced at Giannini and Riley and winked. “How much does it cost the Program for each person they hide away? A hundred grand a year? Multiplied by all the years they got left? And how much are they paying you on the contract?”

“I don’t know how much it costs them,” Master replied. “I don’t really care.”

To the west of the Dome, Kramer unfolded the tripod and connected it to the bottom of the barrel hand guard. He set down the tripod and made sure the legs were secure. He was as close as he could get to the tower without being spotted—about a hundred yards away, hidden among the trees. The walkway made its 180-degree curve less than fifty yards from his position. He leaned his cheek against the guard on the stock and looked through the scope, confirming what he had feared when he first spotted the tower. He keyed his FM radio and spoke into the mouthpiece.

Master was standing on the tar walkway, less than a hundred feet from the tower. He couldn’t see Hammer or any of the prisoners, and when Kramer’s voice came into the small receiver in his ear he wasn’t surprised at the message.

“I can’t get a clear shot unless they stand up. I can’t see any of the targets, and if I move any closer I’ll be spotted. I do have some clear space along the walkway if they try to come down.”

“Hold position,” Master whispered into the radio. “Break, Dewar, double-time down to the van and bring up the two-oh-three.”

“Roger,” Dewar replied from his hidden position around the curve farther down the path.

“So what’s the average life expectancy?” Hammer yelled to Master. “You got to figure that in ten years the Program saves a million on each person that really disappears. With the Cobbs you were looking at two for the price of one.” He shook his head. “I don’t think we’re making enough on this deal.”

“It’s not just the money,” Master replied. “It’s the concept.”

Hammer turned to Riley and Giannini and lowered his voice. “You’ll like this—I’ve heard it before.”

Riley wondered about all the talking—something wasn’t right. Why was this Master fellow stalling for time? Riley glanced down the walkway, half expecting to see some men sneaking up on them. His hands were now entirely drenched in blood but he continued the awkward sawing motion.

“What’s the concept?” Hammer called out.

“The idea that criminals should be rewarded simply because they agree to testify to save their ass. You know what I mean, Hammer. We served our country and it spit in our face, yet these people break the law and then get rewarded for it.”

“He’s got a point, don’t you think?” Hammer said to his prisoners.

The blood-covered garrote slipped out of Riley’s fingers and fell to the floor behind him. He put both palms together and pressed—he could feel some give.

“I don’t think—” Hammer’s next words were cut off as the sharp crack of an explosion sounded close by. He popped his head up and peered out. The smoke from a grenade round floated by.

“Again!” Master hissed, as Dewar popped open the grenade launcher barrel slung underneath the M-16 frame. As soon as Dewar had fired the first round, Master joined him. Both were hidden on the far side of the path from the tower, on the beginning of the downslope leading to Forney’s Creek. The expanded cartridge slipped out and Dewar rammed home another high-explosive (HE) round.

Five miles to the west, flying five hundred feet above Andrews Bald, Ferguson saw the puff of smoke on Clingmans Dome and wondered what it could be. His trip with the couple who’d arrived in the Mercedes had started in the west, and he was working his way east along the spine of the mountains. Whatever the smoke was, he would see shortly.

“Son of a bitch!” Hammer exclaimed, hitting the deck. “Guess they aren’t going to negotiate.”

“Why the hell did you even try?” Riley said.

Hammer looked at him. “Because I thought Master would be reasonable, and I’m tired of working for peanuts. If I get this to go down, I could retire and be done with this crap. Guess that’s not going to be possible.”

Hammer stood, hands held up. “All right, Master. You’ve got—”

The 7.62 x 51mm round entered just under Hammer’s left eye, glanced off the cheekbone and tore through his mouth, and exited through his right jaw. The impact threw him against the concrete wall, then he toppled to the floor.

Riley heard the report of the sniper rifle even as Hammer’s blood splashed over him. He made one final surge with the tape and the last strands parted. With the knife from Hammer’s combat vest, he sliced through Giannini’s and Lisa’s bindings. Then he scuttled around the deck, keeping low, to the pile of weapons and gear; he threw on his combat vest, resecured both his pistols and his FA-MAS, and handed Giannini her revolver.

“He’s still alive,” Giannini said, kneeling next to Hammer.

Riley slid next to his former partner and checked the wound. Hammer’s eyes followed him above the bloody mess the round had made. They all flinched as another HE grenade exploded, this one against the outside of the concrete wall; the concussion made their heads ring.

Hammer muttered something, spitting out blood, broken teeth, and splintered bone. Riley ripped open the field dressing from Hammer’s vest and reached up to wrap it around the man’s head. A bloody hand came up and grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip. Riley met Hammer’s look, and the man again attempted to speak through his damaged mouth. Riley tried to put the bandage on, but Hammer wouldn’t let go, and Riley finally desisted. Hammer then picked up the FA-MAS and got to his knees. He pointed to the ramp.

Riley understood what Hammer was doing. He turned to the two women. “Let’s go. Down the ramp.”

Hammer stood and fired a long sustained burst, first at where Master had been, then around to the left, toward the sniper. When the bolt slammed forward on an empty magazine, he smoothly slipped another one home and continued firing, ignoring the pain and the blood that flowed from his face. Giannini grabbed Lisa by the arm, and Riley pushed them onto the ramp.

As they started down, an explosion behind them threw them all to the ramp. Riley turned and looked. Dewar had finally threaded the needle; the round had passed between the upper cover and the concrete wall, exploding less than four feet from Hammer. Riley caught a glimpse as the blast blew Hammer’s shredded body over the wall to the ground forty feet below. Riley shook his head to clear the ringing from the blast’s concussion. “Let’s keep going,” he ordered the two women.