Killing Game (Veritas Book 2) (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Three

The instant the second explosion occurred, Brannon lowered into a crouch. Cait was in the same position in front of him.

“See anyone?” she asked.

“No. You’d think Ellers would send someone out to check.”

“Or maybe he’s an overconfident prick who believes he’s all secure in his big bad fortress.”

“You’re getting your second wind. Or is it your third or fourth?”

“What I’m getting is pissed,” she replied. “I take it personally when some SOB tries to kill me. Doesn’t matter if he’s an Afghani warlord or some homegrown militia asshole.”

They were about to return to their feet when she raised her hand for silence. The sound of something crashing through the brush came from their left, followed by a pair of white-tailed deer.

“Maybe one of their buddies set off the explosion,” Cait said.

“Might be why Ellers doesn’t send out a patrol every time. Between the wildlife and malfunctions, this might happen pretty often. If so, that’s a blessing for us.”

They slowly rose and continued on. A short time later, Cait’s hand went up again. Her hearing was more acute than his.

“To our right, about thirty yards,” she murmured. “We got movement and it’s not a deer.”

Crouching down, he waited, then spied a woman moving through the brush. She wasn’t running, but proceeding with a caution that said she knew about the booby traps.

“It’s Susan,” Brannon said. “She found a way to escape. Do we catch up with her, or let her go?”

“We need everyone on our team we can get. But she might not be willing to accept that you’re one of the good guys.”

“Hopefully she’s got an open mind.”

They split apart. While Cait circled in from behind to keep an eye on pursuers, Brannon set off on a path to intercept the FBI agent. It wouldn’t be long before Ellers realized one of his hostages had taken off, so their window of opportunity was closing fast.

Moving in tandem with Susan, he slipped ahead of her, remaining hidden. When he found an open space about forty feet in front of her, he stopped and waited. The instant she saw him, Susan came to a halt, her only weapon the pocketknife in her hand.

“So you’re not dead. I wondered about that.”

“I’m hard to kill, Special Agent Driscoll.”

“Apparently.” Her eyes widened. “How do you know who I am?” Her stance didn’t change, but her focus on him kept her from realizing that Cait was slowly approaching from her rear.

“I work for Veritas. You heard of them?” A curt nod told him that she had. “I’ve been undercover, trying to track where the money was going from the armored-car robberies.”

“So you decided to participate in one to find out?”

“Not my plan, but that’s the way it happened. I was bringing the money to Ellers. Why was I double-crossed? Did they figure out I wasn’t on the level?”

“Not that I can tell,” she replied. “James told his uncle you took off with some of the money, and with you not around to dispute the claim . . . But now Ellers knows the truth.”

“How?”

“The missing money was found in someone’s backpack. James promptly lied his ass off, claiming he knew nothing about that.”

“The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Cait said.

Susan whirled around, backing away so she could keep an eye on both of them. Brannon could see her trying to decide: Trust them? Don’t trust them?

Finally, she said, “Please tell me one of you has a phone.”

Brannon nodded, his shoulders relaxing. “Sure do.”

“How’d you get free?” Cait asked, leaning against a tree.

“One of the women helped me escape. She warned me about the mines.” The agent studied each of them in turn, then closed the knife and stuck it in a pocket. “I’m taking a huge risk, trusting you.”

“Roger that,” Brannon said. “I’d argue that I’m in the same position. I suggest we head west of the compound, get us some cover so you can make your call. We’ll fill you in on what we found during recon.”

“Lead on,” Susan gestured.

“I’ll take point,” Cait said, setting off.

The agent pointedly waited for Brannon to be next in line. Apparently, her trust only went so far.

*~*~*

They’d circled around to the area west of the compound and discovered it had fewer mines and pit traps, a mistake that Cait remarked upon. Perimeter defense was only as strong as the weakest area.

“I’ll let my people know about that,” Susan said. She was still working through the discovery that these two were alive. Nothing had indicated they were working for Ellers, and in fact, they’d readily shared what information they’d gathered.

In return, she’d explained how one big piece of apple pie had earned her freedom. She’d waited until her young, obviously hungry guard had dug into that pie, and then she’d carefully banged him on the head with a skillet. She’d left him tied up and gagged in the storage closet off the main kitchen.

Then, as if God Himself was looking out for her, she’d made it to the north fence where it attached to one of the buildings without anyone spotting her. Using brute force and the knife, she’d managed to peel enough of the wire back to wiggle through, scraping herself up good as she did.

“I’m worried Ellers will execute the kid just to make a point to the rest of his people,” she said. “He’s volatile, got a hair trigger.”

“There’s another tiger trap straight ahead of us,” Cait advised. “Watch where you walk.”

“You with Veritas too?” Susan asked as they skirted around the danger.

“No, just filling in on the tour for my friend. Mike was worried something hinky might happen.”

“So it did, in spades.”

“Is Patti okay?”

“So far. We’re trying to guard her, keep her away from James.” Which she hoped would happen now that she wasn’t at the girl’s side. Somehow, she suspected that Maudie might step up if needed.

“Any clue what Ellers’s plan is?” Brannon asked.

“No. Other than ranting about liberty and traitors, and executing one of his own people, he hasn’t said a word about what’s on the wind.”

Cait halted, turning back to Brannon. “What do you think about this location?”

“Looks good to me. We can hunker down in those bushes if need be.” He removed his rucksack, dug inside, and handed over the sat phone. “Caitlyn and I will take guard duty while you contact your office. Warn them that if they come in like they did at Waco, it’ll be a bloodbath.”

“Believe it or not, we learned that lesson,” Susan replied sharply, snatching the phone from him.

“Not dissing you folks, just pointing out the reality. Sometimes the higher ups can get a case of the stupids.”

That, she couldn’t argue. Susan took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. Settling on the still-damp ground, she turned on the phone, waited for the signal, then dialed up her fellow agent in Brunswick. Once her boss in Atlanta found out what she’d been up to, the shit was going to hit the fan, and she wasn’t ready for that just yet.

The moment she thought that, Susan shook her head at how silly that sounded. She was stuck in a swamp with two former soldiers and virtually no weapons, up against a fully armed anarchist who had delusions of godhood.

It didn’t get any shittier than that.

“Special Agent Wiseman.”

“Wiseman, it’s Susan. I need your help.”

“You want to do
what?
” Cait said, frowning, as they stood some distance away from the FBI agent.

“I want to go into the compound, join up with Ellers,” Brannon said.

“Are you nuts? He’ll put a bullet in your skull the moment he sees you.”

“I’m betting he won’t. I have ten grand of his money. That’s my ticket in.”

Cait shook her head, her eyes not on him but on the swamp around them.

“You heard Susan: Ellers knows he was ripped off and thinks I’m dead because of it. If I show up with the missing cash, demanding to know what the hell is going on, he’ll respect that.”

This time, her eyes did swing in his direction. “Or he’ll just kill you.”

Before he could reply, her hand came up for silence. Then she pointed toward the compound. He caught the faint sound of someone moving through the brush far in the distance.

“One tango,” Cait said. “Bless his little butt, he has no clue how not to make a ton of noise.”

They returned to where Susan sat with the phone against her ear.

Brannon knelt down in front of her, catching her attention. “We got company.”

She nodded. “Gotta go, Wiseman. They’ve figured out I escaped.” He said something in return. “I will. Thanks.” Then she shut down the phone and offered it to Brannon.

“You keep it,” he said.

“Okay. It’s going to take some time before our reinforcements arrive,” Susan explained.

“Well, while that’s happening, I’m going inside the compound,” Brannon said. “Reporting for duty, just like a good little soldier.”

“I told him it was a crap idea,” Cait grumbled.

“It is, but it just might work,” Susan replied. “Besides, he’s probably going in whether we agree to this or not.”

“Yeah, I can see that. And they say women are stubborn.”

Susan turned back toward him. “Ellers is a lot closer to the edge than you realize. His word is law in that camp. If he decides you’re the enemy, or no longer useful, you’re dead.”

“I know that. I also know that I’d take a few of them with me when I go.”

Cait averted her eyes, as if somehow seeing his death. He gently touched her arm. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Damn you, Bran,” she whispered. “Don’t you see? I lost Jeremy. I can’t lose . . . you, too.”

In those few words, he realized how much she cared. He walked her a short distance away, gaining them some privacy, then he placed his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her.

“I swear, Caitlyn, I’ll do what I can to stay alive for you. You have to promise to do the same for me.”

She blinked back tears, then nodded. “Then go, before I totally lose it here and ruin my badass rep.”

He kissed her, a long, deep kiss. When it ended, he hugged her tight, then stepped away. Cait offered him the rifle.

“No. You keep it. I’ll get my own inside.”

He gave Susan a thumbs-up, then walked into the woods. It took only a couple of minutes to put himself along the path of Ellers’s scout. He crouched down and waited until the guy walked right past him, making so much noise they could probably hear him in Atlanta.

“Stupid-ass woman,” the man complained. “Probably got herself lost. If she had any brains, she’d have headed for the damned boats.”

A few more steps, then he huffed. “I’m wasting my time out here.”

“No, you’re not,” Bannon said, rising from his hiding place.

The guy whirled, his gun leveled at him. “Who the hell are you?”

“Brannon Hardegree. I’m here to see Commander Ellers.”

The man stared. “But you’re dead.”

“Not today. Let’s go show the commander just how good you are at finding people.”

The guy brightened up at that. “Yeah, let’s do that.” He pointed. “The compound’s this way.”

Really? I never would have guessed
.

“You and Hardegree, huh?” Susan said softly.

There was no way to hide it now, not after what the agent had witnessed. “Yeah, it came out of nowhere. Now, it’s like he’s always been part of my life. It spooks the hell out of me, you know?”

“Haven’t had that feeling yet. Maybe someday.”

Cait forced herself back into warrior mode. There, she felt secure, less confused. “Let’s figure out the best way to get the cavalry in here without too many casualties. They’ll probably want to come in by water.”

“Or helicopter?”

Cait shook her head. “No LZ . . . no landing zone. So unless they’re going to fast-rope from the chopper, it’ll have to be by boat.”

“I don’t know how fate arranged to have both a Ranger and a Marine on this trip, but I’m definitely headed to shul to say thanks the moment I get back to Atlanta.” Susan thumbed the sat phone. “I’ll let them know about the lack of a landing zone. Oh, got a voicemail. Maybe it’s good news.”

As Cait waited, she watched Susan’s expression go from hopeful to sincerely pissed off. Apparently, whoever had left the message hadn’t said the right things. After she sent a text, the agent turned the phone off, swearing under her breath.

“And?” Cait asked, keeping her attention on the area around them as they walked deeper into the woods.

“That was my boss, who just had to chew me out for my ‘reckless and irresponsible’ behavior. Said we’d be having ‘a talk’ once I get back to the office.”

“Does this desk jockey not realize that you might not get back to your office if he doesn’t help you out?”

“The desk jockey is a she, and I’m her problem child, as she puts it.”

Cait ground her teeth. “We put up with enough of that bullshit from guys, but when it comes from a woman, that really rags me. So what is she going to do for us?”

“It sounds like the various offices are weighing their options. My boss is urging restraint, that the situation might not be as dire as I painted it.”

Cait looked back over the swamp in the direction of the compound. “Yeah, I can see that. You’re totally overplaying this whole goat rope. I mean, it’s only an armed militia and a few IEDs. What could possibly go wrong?”

Susan rolled her neck around, apparently trying to reduce her tension. From the glower on her face, the maneuver failed. “I swear to God, if the state of Georgia didn’t have the death penalty, my boss would be a rotting corpse.”

Cait grinned. “I’ll help you dispose of the body. I know a few tricks.” That earned her a thoughtful smile. “How’s about we go prove that your boss is an idiot and earn you a nice commendation?”

Susan’s smile dimmed. “I’d be happy just to get out of this alive.”

“Right there with you, sister.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

There had been a few moments in Brannon’s life when he knew he was pushing his luck. That night in the mountains of Afghanistan, when he’d tracked a group of insurgents on his own so he could call in an air strike. That day in Fallujah. Now here in the swamp.

The rational, “you thought this was a good idea?” portion of his brain was bitching at him that this plan sucked. That it was stupid and suicidal, especially when he had Cait and Susan counting on him. Nevertheless, he hoped that the majority of Ellers’s people were tired of being holed up out in the swamp, and sick of the man’s bullying dictatorship. Or at least that’s what he was telling himself.

Larry, Brannon’s escort, was a guy who loved to talk and he’d done that all the way to the compound. By the time they approached the gates, Brannon had heard that one of the hostages had escaped—someone he’d claimed not to have seen—that Commander Ellers was pissed off at everyone, and that the food rations had been cut again. Also, that no one understood exactly why the hostages had been taken in the first place, except for the writer guy and the photographer. And that Larry was thinking it was time to head back to Arkansas. He’d had his fill of Ellers and his crew.

When they reached the compound, one of the guards in the tower called down to Larry and told them to stay put. Time passed, but he didn’t move. He made note that there was one man in both of the guard towers and each held a sniper rifle, though that didn’t mean they had any skill with those weapons. Brannon did, and if he could get his hands on one of those, his chance of survival would improve dramatically.

“It’s him,” a man called out, his face peering through the fencing at the front gates. “Let him in.”

The gates opened and Brannon marched inside. He was immediately surrounded, his rucksack and knife confiscated. Then he was patted down. He had to act the outraged party here, that Ellers owed him for the betrayal. That he was a loyal soldier to their unholy cause.

“No other weapons,” one of the guards said.

Brannon stared at the guy who’d identified him. “How’d you know who I was?”

“I saw you that night.”

“You one of the assholes who tried to kill me?”

“No, I’m not. My name’s Rafferty,” he said.

“Then it’s good to meet you, Rafferty.”

“By coming here you’re putting your head in the noose.”

“Says the man who lives inside an armed compound.”

Rafferty glanced over at him. “Then it appears neither of us is that smart.”

The open area in front of the cedar house was primarily white sand. A single flagpole sat in the center, but Old Glory wasn’t flying proud today, hanging wet and limp on the pole. Rafferty told Brannon to wait there, and he did as ordered, feeling the guns trained on his back. Hopefully, if Ellers wanted him dead, he’d do the deed himself. That way Brannon wouldn’t die alone; a single snap of the anarchist’s neck would ensure he had company when he stood in front of St. Peter. But this wasn’t just about him anymore. He had someone who cared for him. Someone who needed him.

The door to the house swung open and Ellers walked out, down the stairs, right up to him. His weapon went up against Brannon’s forehead in a fluid motion.

“I was told you were dead.”

Brannon made sure not to flinch. “You were told wrong.”

“How did you find this place?”

“Once a Ranger, always a Ranger.”

“How?” Ellers insisted, pushing harder with the gun.

“The tour guide had maps in her ruck. I’ve been checking islands for the last couple of days. When I heard ‘Reveille’ this morning, I knew I’d hit pay dirt.”

“Just how did you do that when the canoes were wrecked?” Rafferty asked.

“Fixed one up. Wasn’t about to be stranded just because someone felt the need to fuck me over.”

Ellers chewed on that bit of news for a time. “What about the guide?”

“Dead. Took a round in her skull.” Brannon pointed toward his rucksack. “The rest of your money is in there. Whoever tried to kill me was in a hurry.”

“Why bring it to me?”

“Because I want to settle the score with the bastard who tried to kill me and I wanted to meet you. So here I am.”

There was a very long pause as the commander sized him up. “The traitor was executed earlier today. He’s no longer a problem.”

Brannon gave a brisk nod, waiting to see if the same fate awaited him. Ellers took a step backward. At least the gun wasn’t poking a hole in his forehead any longer.

“The FBI is looking for you,” the commander announced.

“That, I wouldn’t doubt. Doesn’t mean they’re going to find me.”

“I’ve got a friend in the Army. He did some checking on you. He says you’d never be the type to join up with me. That if you’re here, you’re working for the enemy. So which one of you do I trust?”

Shit
. Brannon hadn’t expected that.

“Did your friend rob an armored truck and risk time in federal prison? Did he haul the loot all the way into some goddamned swamp to bring it to you, even after one of your people tried to kill him? No, he did not. But I did. So your friend is wrong.”

Ellers cocked his head. Brannon felt sweat trickle down his back and into his cargo pants, like it was summer in the desert.

The gun went back into the holster. “Come on,” the man said, gesturing. “We need to talk.”

Somehow Brannon had passed the first test, but he knew there would be many more.

The interior of Ellers’s office was stark in its simplicity. There was a jerry-rigged desk, a rusty fold-up chair behind it. Papers sat on that “desk” in no discernable order. On the wall behind it was a framed black-and-white photograph of Ellers with a group of men, all in camo. From his time in the Army? Or maybe later?

There was no chair for Brannon, so he adopted the parade-rest position, moving his left foot out and interlocking his thumbs behind his back. This telegraphed that he viewed Ellers as his superior, massaging the man’s ego.

“At ease, soldier,” Ellers said, after sitting in the lone chair. He pulled his gun out of the holster and placed it in front of him, within easy reach. “What did you do in the Rangers?”

“Usual stuff. Explosives, hostage rescue.”

“Sniper?”

“Yes.”

“How good?”

“Good,” he replied. “I’m better with explosives.”

“So if I gave you a rifle, you could kill anyone I wanted you to?”

“Yes, but I don’t kill women or kids. Unless they’re trying to kill me.”

The cunning look in Ellers’s eyes made Brannon wonder if that comment had been a mistake. “Even if I ordered you to do so?” the man asked.

“Even then. I have some lines I don’t cross.”

“Huh. But you could kill anyone else?”

“Yes, but optimum results require a military-grade sniper rifle and proper site planning. It’s not a point-and-shoot kind of thing, like in some damned arcade.”

Ellers leaned back in his chair, sending an ominous creak throughout the room. “Why do you want to join us?”

Time for the sales pitch
. “Because I went to war for this country and now it’s not the one I fought for.” In many ways, that was true, though not how Ellers imagined.

“Do you know the best way to kill a snake?”

“Take off its head?”

“Yes. And the best way to start a war?”

Brannon knew where this was headed. He’d read too much of Ellers’s online rants not to. “By ensuring that the world understands the sacrifices required for liberty.”

The commander slammed his palm down on the planks. “That’s it exactly. When I get done, everyone will know why I struck the blow for freedom. They’ll see the bloated bodies, they’ll know the government is corrupt. There will be no way Washington can spin this to be our fault.”

“Sounds like you got it all worked out.”

“I do. Question is, do you want to be part of it?”

Brannon took a deep breath. “Yes, sir, I do, sir.”

Ellers rose, jamming the Glock back into his holster. “Time for you to get settled in, Hardegree.”

Well, hell
. He seemed to have made the cut. Something told him that it shouldn’t have been that simple.

Ellers escorted him to Rafferty, who was in the mess tent with a woman and two children. Most likely his family. The two little boys were about five and seven, wide eyed and curious at the newcomer. One had a wooden truck and was running it along the table, executing a tight course between a staggered line of salt shakers.

“You stick with Rafferty from now on,” Ellers said. Then, as he turned away from the table, he added under his breath. “See that woman and those kids? You try to fuck me over, and they’ll be the first to die. You got a line in the sand? So do I, asshole. You’ve been warned.”

Ellers exited the building, leaving Brannon to stare at the boys and their mom, chilled by the threat.

“Something wrong?” Rafferty asked, unaware of what his boss had just said.

“Just your commander warning me to be on my best behavior.”

“Huh. Well, sit and have some coffee.”

The fellow’s wife rose, gave a nod to her husband, and herded the kids away. Before Brannon could say a word, a tin cup full of coffee arrived in front of him, courtesy of an older woman.

“Thanks, Maudie,” Rafferty said.

This was the one who’d helped Susan escape.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Brannon said, and he didn’t mean just for the coffee.

She studied him for a moment, then returned to the kitchen.

“Are the hostages okay?” Brannon asked.

“They’re good. The photographer and the writer are working on Ellers’s book.”

“Really?” he replied, trying to sound surprised since Susan had already given him that bit of information.

“Yeah. He’s having them compile some of his writings. Says they need to be ready for when he isn’t here anymore.”

“Isn’t here, as in dead?”

Rafferty shrugged his shoulders. “You can never tell with him,” he said quietly.

“Is his nephew leaving that young girl alone?”

The man’s eyebrows rose. “He is for now. He kept trying to sneak in to see her, claiming she was ‘his.’ His uncle got so pissed, he sent him off the island about an hour ago.”

“Why do I think he didn’t go quietly?”

Rafferty shook his head. “Not that kid. I don’t know why Ellers puts up with him. Probably only because he’s a relative.”

“How long have you folks been here?” Brannon asked, then took a long sip of the black coffee. It was better than he’d expected.

“Been here about five months. I was one of the original few who came out here with the commander. Once we got the place livable, we brought in our wives and families.” Rafferty rose. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”

As they walked through the compound, he pointed out certain buildings and introduced Brannon to various people. It was a community on edge. People’s eyes weren’t meeting his and they weighed each word as if it might prove to be their last. The one thing that was clear: They respected Rafferty.

“How far do you trust the commander?” Brannon asked, playing a hunch.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because he told me that if I fucked him over, he’d kill your wife and kids.”

Rafferty stumbled to a halt. “You serious?”

“Absolutely.”

The man’s expression hardened. “Then you better not fuck up and betray us, because if you do, I’ll kill you first.”

“That’s exactly what I’d do in your shoes.”

Rafferty grunted and continued the tour, but his demeanor had changed now, and Brannon didn’t think that it was in regard to him.

He knows Ellers is a threat. All of them do
.

*~*~*

Hours later, by the time they’d completed the full reconnaissance and mapped out as many of the IEDs and traps as they could find, Susan was exhausted. She did field work, which involved long hours interviewing people, collecting evidence, then going back to interview the same people who’d lied to you the first time around. In contrast, Cait’s skillset included forced marches, living on a single protein bar and some sips of water, and not issuing one complaint.

I feel like a damned wimp
.

“Why do you think that?” her companion asked.

Apparently, she’d voiced her thoughts.

“You just keep going and going. Me? I’m exhausted, I ache, and I would kill for a hot bath, a massage, and a steak dinner. Yeah, that’s me whining.”

“You do remember Patti, right? That girl had whining down to an art form. Yours isn’t anywhere near that level.”

Susan chuckled at the memory. “So how’d you get so tough?”

“I learned early on not to complain in front of the guys, because they might see it as a weakness.”

“So you couldn’t be a woman?”

“I couldn’t act like a
weak
woman. There’s a difference,” Cait said. “Once they got to know me, I could joke about stuff like that, but not until then.”

“I can understand that. It’s like breaking in a new partner at the Bureau.” She sighed. “So are we going to stop tromping around eventually? I have a hot date with a few blisters, and I can’t wait to see just how big those puppies are.”

“Here is as good a place as any to park it for the night. Hopefully, come morning, your crew will be moving in.”

She heard the worry in Cait’s voice, and she knew it wasn’t all for them. “Brannon will be okay. He strikes me as the ‘I can survive anything’ kind of dude.”

Cait did not reply as she laid out a ground cloth between two bushes. Only when she was done did she look back at Susan. “Trust me, even those kinds of dudes can die. If he does . . . ”

“Then we won’t be needing to put Ellers on trial, right?”

“You got it.”

“If it goes down like that, I’ll make sure the official report uses the phrase ‘in self-defense,’” Susan said.

She blinked up at her. “I thought you FBI folks were all by the rulebook.”

“I’m not and that’s why my boss hates my guts.”

Cait held up a protein bar, waggling it at her. “Split it with you.”

“I’m all over that. I know, I’m easy.”

Cait actually laughed, and it sounded as if she didn’t do that very often. “You keep it up, and we’ll be picking out china patterns in a few weeks.”