Killing Game (Veritas Book 2) (11 page)

Chapter Fourteen

After claiming a pair of undamaged paddles down by the shoreline, Cait and Brannon tromped along in mud and near silence. An hour had passed and the going had been slow, as she’d feared.

“Are we there yet?” Brannon said, mimicking Patti.

“That was good. You got her whine dead on.”

“My ex-fiancée had a younger sister. She was remarkably whiny.” He paused. “Come to think of it, the ex was as well.”

Cait laughed. “Ex, huh? Didn’t make the cut?”

“No.”

From that one word, she could tell it was best not to ask for details. “So how did you make the move from the Army to Veritas?”

“One of my platoon buddies didn’t make it back, and I promised I’d keep an eye on his wife and kid. Well, the boy gets himself arrested, charged with a Class C misdemeanor because he was being an asshole in school. It should have resulted in a fine and suspension. Instead, he ends up in a private juvenile facility, sentenced to three months.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it. Jake’s mom was freaking out, so I started asking questions. Seems the judge was taking bribes from a company that managed the prison. They wanted to make sure they had a steady supply of inmates. When I made a big stink, it got ugly.”

“How ugly?”

Brannon walked around a rotting log before replying. “I was warned off and when I refused to back down, I was arrested and beaten. Next thing I know, there’s this lawyer from Veritas bailing me out. They’d been building a case against the judge for some time, and when I came into the picture, they decided I’d make a good ally. Together we shut it down. The judge and local sheriff are doing time, the company who owned the prison went bankrupt, and my buddy’s kid is on the straight and narrow.” Brannon grinned. “Because if he doesn’t stay that way, Jake knows I will seriously kick his ass.”

She heard the strength of that commitment. “You’re a good friend.”

“Just honoring my promises. After it was all over, Veritas’s boss offered me a job, and I’ve been with them ever since. I’ve never regretted that decision.”

“What about the robbery? How’s that going to play with them?”

Brannon issued a long sigh. “It’s already causing problems. If I get the goods on Ellers, my boss will have a better chance of talking the FBI into dropping the charges.”

“God, I hope so.”

“Yeah. I hope Veritas called my folks. I can just imagine what will happen if they hear my name on the evening news.”

Cait paused and checked her compass against the map, and then they set off again. The humidity was still off the charts, a heavy fog in some of the low-lying areas.

He smiled over at her. “This cabin of yours, does it have hot running water?”

“Only if you heat the water and pour it over your head. It does have a roof that doesn’t leak, well not too much, and some supplies.”

“Satellite phone?”

“Affirmative,” she said. “I’ve been kicking myself for leaving it there the last time. That was stupid.”

“Your cell phone should have been enough. You didn’t plan on being ambushed.”

“Yeah, and it bites me that we were,” Cait replied, frowning. “I really didn’t see that coming.”

“You’re not the only one. So what other features does this fabulous cabin have?”

“Food, a bed, guns, and ammo. It’s pretty fancy.”

He grunted. “My idea of fancy is a suite at one of the classy hotels, with a king bed, walk-in shower, twenty-four-hour room service, and a high-definition big-screen TV.”

“And a hot babe?” she said.

“All depends on the lady,” he replied, watching her closely now. “You game?”

Cait didn’t reply, because she didn’t know what to say. There was no way she should be looking at this guy as anything more than an ally, but she was. That was unnerving.

“I didn’t catch your answer,” he said, humor in his voice.

“The canoe should be right up here,” she replied, trying to change the subject.

“That was a well-executed diversion, Sergeant.”

“Glad you think so, Lieutenant.”

To her annoyance, it took Cait longer to locate the boat than she’d expected. She put her hands on her hips, studying the area around them.

“If you can’t find the canoe, you’ll have to answer my question,” he teased.

“I’m trying to locate my landmarks.”

After five more minutes, he raised an eyebrow. “You sure there really was a canoe on this island.”

“If I say I’ll find it, I will. Now be quiet.”

Brannon raised his hands in surrender, but more importantly, he stopped needling her. A few minutes later, she found the canoe.

“Well look at that,” she said, smiling.

“I’m sorry for doubting you. I should know better.”

She eyed him. “Did I just hear a Ranger apologize?”

“Yeah, but don’t let it get out. It’ll ruin our rep.”

Cait smirked, and after stowing away the map and her compass, she fetched a thick branch.

“Going to beat me into submission?” he joked.

“Maybe. You into that kind of thing, are you?” she shot back, feeling feisty.

Brannon blinked. “Maybe. Depends on who’s doing what to whom.”

She laughed, wondering what it was about this guy that made her say things she never would to any other man. Made her wonder just what he’d be like in her bed.

Cait forced her mind away from those thoughts—and God, had they been steamy. She poked around the canoe until she was sure that nothing called it home, then flipped it over and studied the damage. The fiberglass had a grapefruit-sized hole along one side.

“Perfect.” She shifted off her pack. “Can you keep an eye out for company?”

Brannon gave a nod and drifted away. She watched him for a time, how he moved silently through the brush, how confident he appeared. Maybe he was right, and the demons in her mind would eventually call it quits and give her space.

Yeah. Sure
.

The patching process was rather straightforward. First, she cleaned around the hole on both sides of the canoe, then laid down a crosshatch of duct tape on the inside. Cutting a piece of tarp a bit bigger than the hole, she placed that on top of the tape, then sealed it with another layer of duct tape. She’d just repeated the process on the outside of the canoe when Brannon returned.

“Anything?” she asked.

He shook his head. “That looks good. I’m smelling smoke, though. Seems to be coming from the northeast.”

She rose, frowning. “Could be a fire started by the thunderstorm. That happens out here.”

“How do you fight a fire in a swamp?” he asked, as they carried the canoe toward the water.

“About the only way is to dump a ton of water on it. If the peat starts burning, it’s hell to put out. It’s freaky because you’re not only fighting a surface fire, but also another ten or more feet underneath you.”

“Which means just walking on the wrong piece of ground can get you fried?” Brannon asked.

“Good chance of it. I have a cousin who fights those huge forest fires out in Oregon. I think he’s insane,” she said.

“Like what you used to do was totally normal?”

Cait looked over at him, matching his grin. “Like that, yeah.”

Once they reached the water, she shimmied out of her rucksack and left it on the shore. Climbing into the canoe, she waited. To her relief, there were no leaks. After handing in both her gear and his, Brannon climbed into the front.

“Are we seaworthy, Sergeant?” he asked, looking back at her.

“Roger, L.T. We are for the time being. If that hole had been in the bottom, not so much.”

They set off. The wind had grown stronger, and now Cait could smell the smoke too. In some ways that was a good thing, as it would mean the park rangers would be checking in on the tour, wanting to evacuate them. When they couldn’t reach either Preston or her, someone would take notice.

As if unaware that their world might be in danger, birds actively hunted for food while gators sunned themselves on the banks. Mist still covered the water in places, swirling as they moved through it, uncovering clumps of golden club, some in bloom.

“Feels like some horror movie,” he said. “The quiet before it all goes to hell.”

“I can’t watch those things. They scare me.”

“Really?” he said, surprised.

“I keep shouting at the stupid girls. You know, the ones who say, ‘I’ll just run out to the car for my lipstick’ after ten people have been slaughtered.”

Brannon chuckled. “I thought I was the only one who did that. Shout at the TV, that is.”

“Nope. And I warn you right up front, I have no football genes. It’s a stupid game. Now, if you take the padding off those guys and turn them loose, then we got something. Rugby all the way.”

He’d stopped paddling and she noticed he was favoring his left side.

“Something wrong?”

“Muscle cramp. My back gives me problems sometimes. I just landed wrong last night when we dove for cover.”

“You mean when you kept me from becoming a corpse.”

“That too,” he said. He touched his back and winced. “It almost feels like there’s something in there.”

“You rest. I’ll take it for a while.”

She expected him to argue, but instead he did as she asked.

“How’d you get injured in the first place?”

Brannon turned around toward her, stretching—and wincing as he did so. “Humvee rolled. Luckily, none of the other guys were hurt.”

“Ever tried massage therapy? The deep-tissue kind?”

“Yeah. It hurts like a bitch, but it helps. How about you? I’ve heard you jarheads are fragile little flowers.”

“Huh,” she huffed. “You do know that ARMY stands for Ain’t Ready to be a Marine Yet, right?”

He broke into laughter and she joined in.

“We’re going to take Ellers down,” Brannon said. “We’re going to teach that SOB some respect.”

“And we’re going to enjoy every damned minute of it,” she replied.

*~*~*

It was mid-morning when the convoy of boats reached its destination. It wasn’t much different from any of the other parts of the swamp, though the island was more heavily wooded and the shoreline trampled down from use. Once they reached the shore, the captives were ordered out of the boats and bunched into a group, guards surrounding them. James stood near Rafferty, but his eyes were on Patti.

You touch her, and I will tear you apart
.

“Any idea of what this is really about?” Bill asked, looking around.

Susan had no choice but to lie. “They must have confused us with someone else. I’m sure they’ll let us go soon. It’s all a big mistake. You’ll see.”

Keith shot her a frown like she was an idiot. She just smiled at him, reinforcing the notion.

“Airhead mode engaged?” Patti whispered.

Susan gave a subtle nod in return.

“This way,” Rafferty ordered, gesturing.

“What about our gear?” Keith asked, worriedly eyeing his camera bag.

“Leave it. We’ll bring it to you. It’ll be safe.”

Keith muttered under his breath, but joined the others in lining up like good little hostages. Ahead of them, the track into the woods was about eight feet wide, and been heavily used. As they hiked, Susan caught glimpses of men walking parallel to them on either side. There would be no opportunity for escape, at least not yet.

“Why are they doing this?” Bill asked, still pushing for an answer.

Preston didn’t answer, his eyes down again.

You know more than you’re letting on
.

“So, any of you rich?” Keith asked. “Because there has to be some reason they kidnapped us. It sure as hell isn’t because of me. My ex-wife took every damned dime.”

“Not me,” Bill replied. “Everybody thinks authors are rich, but we’re not. Well, except the biggies.”

“Do you really think they killed Cait and Brannon?” Patti asked, her voice barely audible. Her hand clutched Susan’s so tightly it hurt.

When Preston looked over at the girl, his frown softened. “It’s not looking good. There was no reason for it.”

“Yeah, there was,” Keith replied. “Both she and the Hardegree guy were ex-military. They were a threat to these bastards.”

“Him, yeah. But why did you think she was?” Bill asked.

“The way she tucked her pants. It was just like Hardegree’s. My brother-in-law used to do that when he was in the military,” Keith replied.

“You know these people, don’t you, Preston,” Susan said. She hadn’t framed it as a question.

“Yes,” he muttered. “I suspected they were out here, but I didn’t figure Ellers would go this far.”

“What the hell does he want?” Keith demanded.

Before Preston could answer, they cleared the woods to where a fifteen-foot-tall fence rose in front of them, topped by concertina wire. Double gates demarcated the entrance to the compound. Susan shielded her eyes and looked up at twin guard towers that sat at the corners of the complex. They were manned and their weapons of choice were M-4 rifles. The group’s chances of escaping alive had just plummeted to zero.

Chapter Fifteen

They’d fallen into a rhythm over the past hour, moving through the water at a decent speed. It wasn’t fast, not with the floating debris from the storm, but progress was being made. Blessedly, the patch had held. The only issue was that, every now and then, Brannon would halt for a few strokes, trying to release the burning cramp in his back.

“Another hour or so,” Cait called out. “Once onshore, another fifteen minutes to the cabin. We’re getting close.”

Her idea of “close” wasn’t the same as his, not with his back spasming every few minutes. Before he could reply, the sound of a boat motor cut the stillness of the swamp.

Cait turned, paddle in hand, listening. “We got company. Could be nothing, or . . . ”

“I agree.”

Looking back, she pointed at the shore. “See near the big cypress with the Spanish moss? We can slot the canoe in there. Maybe if we hunker down they won’t see us.”

As the other boat drew closer, they redoubled their efforts, moving toward where Cait had indicated. Once they were up close to the shore, they pulled the canoe in behind the fallen log. Beetles skittered in all directions, and a pair of turtles sitting on top of the log stared at them.

“God, I hate bugs,” Cait murmured, flicking one into the water.

Brannon smiled to himself as they crouched down and waited. “If these folks are with Ellers, we could take them out. It’d get us a better boat.”

“Tempting, but if some of his people go missing, he’ll know something’s up. He’ll start hunting us before we’re ready.”

He nodded his agreement. “This is your part of the mission, Sergeant. I’m good with whatever you decide.”

Their eyes met. “You’re okay, for a Ranger that is.”

He stifled a laugh as the motor grew louder. They flattened down and waited. Cait’s hand curved around her knife. He already had his out. As they drew near, he could see there were two men in the boat, both of them in ranger uniforms.

“Caitlyn?” Brannon said quietly, not liking the twitch across the back of his neck.

She was frowning now. “Damn, I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut tell you?”

“To hold position. But I could be wrong.”

“My gut agrees with yours. Let’s hold.”

The boat motor cut out.

“See anything?” one of the men asked.

“No. I don’t know why the hell we’re way up here.”

“Because we were told to check the outer perimeter.”

“Yeah, well, this is damned far away from the compound. Between you and me, Ellers is too paranoid for his own good.”

Brannon smiled to himself. Their instincts had proven correct.

The first man snorted. “What’s with those people they brought in this morning? Who the hell are they?”

“God knows. You see anything?” the second man asked.

“What about over near that log?”

“There’s nothing there. Those turtles would have split right off. Let’s get home. I’m tired of this shit.”

“I’m there with you.”

The motor cranked up, and the boat did a sharp turn, then set off the way it came. Once it was out of sight, both Brannon and Cait sat up. Only now did the turtles crawl off the logs into the water.

“Now we know for sure that it was Ellers who kidnapped the others. Not that I could think of anyone else who would.”

“Why take the risk? He has to know someone will miss them eventually. He could have just had his contact get with me and collect the damned money.” Brannon ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “What possible use could he have with a tour guide, a writer, a photographer, a secretary, and a couple teenagers? It makes no sense.”

Cait shrugged as she picked up her paddle. “Let’s get to the cabin. Maybe things will make more sense there.”

If anything, it would only be more complicated. Him and her, alone in a cabin in the wilderness? He could think of a lot of things they could be doing besides preparing for their mission tomorrow. Somehow, he suspected Cait was not on the same wavelength.

*~*~*

“Susan?” Patti asked, her eyes wide in terror as she stared up at the wire-and-post enclosure in front of them.

“If they wanted us dead, they would have killed us hours ago,” she murmured, keeping her voice low.

The twin gates swung open on creaking hinges, and they were herded inside. If it weren’t for the wire and the armed guards, the compound would look as if it’d been transported from the late 1880s.

The main house was a two-story wooden affair, with a broad porch and a worn roof covered in camo netting. It was encircled with white sand, an old swamper’s trick—made it easier to spot if a snake or an alligator came too close to the house for comfort.

Around the edges of the compound, but still enclosed within the barbed wire, were various run-down outbuildings. There appeared to be a forge and a machine shed, both housed in what had to be original structures.

There were newer buildings as well: a dining hall—some kind of low bunker with netting over the windows. A dozen or so tiny cabins sat inside the wire as well, probably just big enough for one or two families. A smaller building was located well away from the others, with a padlock on the door. Probably a jail or the armory. All of the structures had one thing in common: camo netting on their roofs to hide them from aerial surveillance.

As they were marched forward under the watchful eyes of their guards toward the main house, the compound’s occupants stopped whatever they were doing and stared, as if a circus had suddenly appeared in their midst. Susan’s quick count totaled twenty-six individuals. They were of both sexes, some younger, some older. The kids were barefoot and their clothes had been patched a few times.

The women wore dresses that reached their ankles, plain affairs that looked to have been hand made. None were in bright fabrics, but muted tones that blended in with the swamp around them. Their hair was pinned up, often coiled in braids. Some of them had a careworn look, as if each day was filled with too much work from sunrise to sundown.

Susan knew that some religious sects did not allow women to cut their hair, wear jewelry or makeup, or show their elbows. Her research into Ellers hadn’t indicated a religious component, but perhaps that hadn’t made it into the reports somehow. In contrast, the men were in jeans or camo, and every one of them had a weapon—a rifle, a handgun, or a knife.

“Take their security seriously, don’t they?” Keith said.

“Yeah, they do,” Preston replied.

“You been here before?” Susan asked. The assistant shook his head.

She found herself staring at the oversized American flag hanging from the front of the main house. Right below was a banner that proclaimed, “Death to Traitors!”

“Who the hell are these people?” Bill asked in a low voice.

“Folks you don’t want to cross,” Preston replied, still frowning.

“Line up!” Rafferty ordered. While they shuffled into place, a camo-clad guard on the house’s porch knocked on the door, then returned to his position, at rigid attention.

A minute passed, then another. Susan watched the expressions of the guards around them. Most grew progressively uneasy, as if expecting something to happen. James, on the other hand, appeared bored, as if he really didn’t care. Like he was smarter than everyone. Some of that was to be expected with a teenager, but his complete lack of remorse over the deaths of Hardegree and Landry told her this boy had deeper problems. Every now and then, his eyes would flick toward Patti, and the way he focused on her made Susan’s nerves twitch.

Finally, Quinton Ellers stepped outside the building. After her friend in the Brunswick office had told her about the missing agent, Susan had researched Ellers, reading anything she could find in the FBI’s files. Seeing him in person brought those dry reports to life. He was about six feet tall, heavyset, but didn’t seem to have an ounce of fat on him. He wore camo as well, and his sparse brown hair was sprinkled with gray, trimmed in a regulation high-and-tight style.

The son of an oil-rig worker in Louisiana, Ellers had joined the Army in his mid-twenties. It’d been that or go to jail for assaulting a cop. Unlike for some, the military and Ellers had not proved to be a good fit. After his time in the Army, he’d worked in a factory. He’d gone underground right after the 9/11 terrorist attacks and begun “raising” his militia. He claimed it was in response to the Patriot Act, but he’d been sympathetic to the cause far longer than that.

Over the years, he’d had numerous brushes with the law, ranging from assault to shooting two of his neighbors’ dogs, claiming their barking drove him crazy. The fact that he’d executed them in front of a five-year-old kid said that he was a stone-cold son of a bitch. If Susan’s guess was correct, James wasn’t much different.

The militia leader remained on the porch, hands on his hips, raking his unfeeling gaze down the line of captives. Finally, he stomped down the wooden stairs, then stopped, eyeing his nephew first, then each one of them, as if taking their measure.

“What is going on here?” Keith asked, taking a step forward. “Who the hell are you?”

A second later, the photographer had the muzzle of a Glock 18 pressed up against his forehead, courtesy of their “host.”

“I ask the questions, you give the answers,” Ellers said. “You got that?” Keith carefully nodded, sweat blooming on his forehead now. “Then step back in line and shut the fuck up.”

The photographer did as the man commanded. The remaining captives had gone stone silent now, knowing their lives hung on this man’s whims. Patti looked as if she couldn’t decide between running or vomiting. Susan slipped her hand into the girl’s to keep her in place.

Ellers calmly holstered his weapon. He took the stance again, like he had on the porch, feet spread, hands on hips. It reminded Susan of someone from an old news video.

“Welcome to New America,” the man began, his voice full of gravel. “This is my world. The only people who are allowed to live here are true patriots. Anyone else gets a bullet in their skull. Is that clear?”

Preston gasped. “
You’re
Quinton Ellers?” A sharp nod returned. “I saw your posts on the Freedom Network message boards.” Which apparently hadn’t included a photo, or the tour assistant wouldn’t have been so stunned.

Ellers ignored him. “Explain to me why I shouldn’t just shoot you all and go back to my breakfast,” he demanded.

“You can’t do that,” Patti protested.

Oh yes, he can
.

Ellers glowered. “Where’s Hardegree?”

“Dead,” James said.

“How the hell did that happen?”

“He was trying to take off on us.”

Rafferty stared at him in confusion. “And go where? He was on an island and we had control of the boats.”

“I made the call,” James said. “He wasn’t trustworthy.”

The commander’s steely gaze rested on his nephew. “Hardegree had explosives skills I could have used. Next time, you don’t make decisions on your own, you hear?”

James’s smirk faded.

“Where’s the money?” Ellers asked tightly.

The teen hefted the backpack at his feet and then dumped it out. Stacks of bills hit the dirt. They were of various denominations, denoted by the color of the straps.

“All of it there?”

“Most of it. He must have skimmed some off the top before he came on the tour. Probably figured to take his cut right up front.”

Ellers frowned. “I thought he was being watched.”

“He was. He was smarter than you thought.”

The commander’s frown deepened. “You got over eager. It’s not the first time.”

James’s smirk returned, as if the death of two people was just a joke for his own private amusement.

“I was told there were eight on the trip. Where’s the other one?” Ellers asked.

“Dead. She was with Hardegree.” James gestured toward Patti. “That girl? She’s mine. That’s why I brought her along. You said I should pick someone, so I did.”

“I meant a woman
within
the camp,” his uncle replied.

“Well, I made my choice and she’s it,” he repeated.

“I’m not your possession, asshole,” Patti shot back.

Susan squeezed her hand in warning. “Don’t push him,” she murmured.

Her action caught Ellers’s notice.

“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at her.

“She’s a nobody. A secretary,” James said.

“Ah . . . ” Susan began, trying to sound breathy and unsure. She raised a hand, like she was a kid in a classroom. They expected an airhead and that’s what they’d get. “Hi! I think you’ve made a mistake. We’re just people on vacation, not anyone special. You should just let us go home.”

Ellers’s eyes radiated contempt, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

“Be quiet, for God's sake!” Bill hissed. “Don’t make him mad.”

The commander swung away from her, dismissing her just as he had Preston. He appeared to have a narrow focus, and that was a weakness she could exploit.

“Did you check their gear?” he demanded. Rafferty nodded. “Anything I need to know about?”

Susan’s heartbeat ramped up. There was no way he hadn’t found her badge and gun.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Rafferty replied.

What had just happened? Why hide her identity from his superior?

“Take the rest of them to the lockup,” the commander ordered. “Adams and Rockwell, you’re coming with me.”

“Why?” Keith asked.

“You two have value. The rest of them don’t.”

“The girl—” James began.

“Doesn’t go with you,” Ellers said. “I told you to pick a woman who’s in the camp, not an outsider. Besides, I need your head in the game, not thinking with your dick.”

The undisguised hatred on James’s face promised payback. Was that a rift Susan could exploit?

At the nudge of a gun in her back, she, Preston, and Patti were herded around the side of the building and deeper into the compound. Guards roamed outside the wire, each armed with an AR-15, or in some cases an AK-47. She counted them as best as she could without drawing attention, making note of their locations, knowing that some might be ex-military. In her mind, that made them even more dangerous.

The first stop was at the latrine. The building was sectioned off, like you’d see in a county park: women on one side, men on the other. Once the bio break was complete, they were led to a shed made of cedar. It looked new, which meant that Ellers had been adding to this compound recently. With its location near the Georgia/Florida border, maybe he had a back way in that hid the bulk of his activities.