Shattered Shell (38 page)

''They don't show up at eight, then what?"

"We give them a few more minutes and then we scram. We'll be waiting and getting nervous and wondering what's going wrong. To hell with that. I don't care what your caller said, we're running this show."

I looked down at the piece of paper, with the straight lines marking the buildings, and the two wavy lines outlining the access roads. "What should we be looking for?"

"They drive down and we all start acting like gentlemen, then it's fine. They should have our rapist friend secured somehow. I'll handle the exchange, and it should go real quick. Anything longer than a minute or two, we're gone. This isn't a debating society. The deal is straightforward: We get the bad guy and you stop bothering them."

"All right," I said. "We run into talkative folks and then we’ll leave. What else?"

"You see a bunch of guys with weapons coming at us with no talking or talking it real rough, then it's going to the shits real quick and we're outta there. In fact, you get a bad feeling about anything, Lewis, we're driving out and we try something different."

"I'm getting a bad feeling right about now."

He grinned. "That's normal. Nothing to worry about. Come on, let's get dressed."

From the rear seat he pulled forward a larger bag, which he unzipped and from which he emptied two Kevlar bulletproof vests. We helped each other on and instantly the inside of the car started getting fifteen degrees warmer. Felix switched off the overhead light and I noticed that I was wiping my hands a lot on my pants leg.

"Okay, let's get to it," he said, and we pulled out into the road.

About a mile toward Plum Island Felix started whistling a quiet tune that I couldn't place, and he pressed a switch that lowered both windows. He kicked the heater up a notch and then I joined him in pulling out our pistols, resting them in our laps. Even with the heavy vest and the heater running at full tilt, I was shivering even harder as we went down the access road, which was bumpy and roughly plowed.

Felix clicked on the headlight's high beams. There were snow-covered fields stretching away to either side of us, glowing stark white. Bare trees spotted the landscape, their gnarled branches looking sharp and awful. Off in the distance to the right were some lights and low buildings, and Felix saw that I was looking that way.

"New airport, started last year. Place we're going to is just down the road."

We passed through a gentle corner and there were two small buildings and a large hangar. The doors were open and snow had drifted inside. Snow-covered hunks of rusted machinery were outside. Felix drove up and the headlights lit up the interior. Toward the rear were workbenches and the bare carcass of a Piper Cub and some doors. No one was in the building. Felix backed up the Camry until we were facing the access road. Off to my side the road curved, and I pointed that out and Felix said, "She curves around and reconnects to the main road. It's more rough than what we came in on."

He put the car into park and switched off the headlights, leaving on the parking lights. The engine still rumbled softly and the heater was on. Felix reached behind the seat and pulled a dark duffel bag toward him, which he unzipped.

"Little toy for the both of us, give us a little advantage," hr said, taking out two hard plastic cases from inside the bag. The cases opened with a sharp
pop
! and he took out what looked like a pair of bulky binoculars, which I recognized instantly.

"Night-vision scopes," I said. "Very nice."

I could sense his smile rather than see it. "I suppose you might have had experience with these. Do you need a lesson, or do you plan to give me a lesson?"

I hefted the bulky instrument in my hand, found the power switch, and turned it on. "Oh, you might want to give me a few pointers. One does tend to get rusty."

"So they say."

Ten minutes later I had the night-vision scope up to my eyes, It worked by gathering all the available light --- starlight, moonlight, whatever --- and concentrating it to make the night visible. Everything was in a ghostly green glow, and I brought the scope up to my eyes every few minutes for a quick scan. Though I was with Felix and we were well-armed, I still had disquieting thoughts of men in white snowsuits, creeping across the fields, reaching into the open car windows and slitting our throats.

Felix coughed and said, "Pretty strange night for you, isn't it.”

"The same could be said for you."

"True, my friend, but there's a big difference. This is a part I of my life, a part of who I am. I expect this kind of work. Hell, sometimes I even look forward to it. But not you. You're a quiet bookish type who used to do something spooky for the Pentagon, and I'll be damned if I can quite figure out why you now do this.  It doesn't figure. This is my turf, not yours. What happened to you out there with the feds, that makes you do this?"

I wasn't in a mood to talk. "Classified. Sorry."

"I'm not looking for the details," he said, his voice quiet but insistent. "I'm just curious why you feel compelled to do this."

I remembered the frantic call from Diane, and the shaking and teary face of Kara in the hospital examining room, and the flames that flickered up the Crescent House, and I said, "What makes you think I have a choice?"

Felix stayed quiet for a while, and I did, too, bringing up the scope every few minutes, looking to the access road in front of us, and the side road off to my right. The snowfields looked ghastly in the pale, fake light. By concentrating I could make out the sounds of traffic heading toward Plum Island. I put the glasses down and Felix’s voice startled me, though it was quite low and even.

"Car coming down the access road."

I turned and saw the approaching headlights. Forgetting my old DoD training, I brought the scope up and was instantly blinded, the circuitry not being able to handle the sudden rush of light from the oncoming car. I brought the scope down and blinked hard a few times. There was a creaking noise as Felix shifted in his seat.

"Only one," he said, "That's good. And right on time."

He started to say something else, but I wasn't paying attention. I could now make out the sound of the approaching car, but there was something else. Metal creaking. Just the car settling in the cold, or Felix moving around? I picked up the night scope and looked out to the other access road. Empty. I scanned the fields. Nothing.

Metal. Creaking again.

I turned full in the seat and looked behind me, through the rear windshield. The quality was blurry, since my hands were shaking and I was looking through dirty glass, but it was clear enough to see, clear enough so I grabbed on to Felix's shoulder, hoping I could speak up soon enough, very soon, as the two men with shotguns worked their way through the abandoned airport hangar just a few score feet away, moving quick and sure, the shotguns now rising up to their shoulders.

"Felix!" I yelled. "Bad guys behind us! It looks like --"

I didn't have a chance to finish, as Felix shifted the Camry from park and slammed down on the accelerator, the tail end fishtailing as he spun around and headed out the other access road. I fell back against the seat and dropped the night scope, and I felt a hot flush of fear, wondering if I was overreacting.

I was still thinking that when there was an earsplitting
boom!
and the rear window was shot in.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Glass showered over me and Felix grunted, and I rolled back down, dropping my head behind the seat. The car fishtailed again, the rear end slamming into a frozen snowbank, and Felix cursed in Italian and yelled, "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so," I yelled back.

"How about you?"

"Just mightily pissed. Hold on."

The road was bumpy and Felix was speeding along, sliding and braking. I got up and spared a look to the rear. Most of the window was gone, broken glass littering the back seat. Headlights were back there in the darkness, following us, moving up and down as the other car speeded across the bumps. The interior of the car was colder and Felix drove like a whirling dervish, pumping the accelerator, braking and turning with a hard-edged fury, slamming the side of the steering wheel with his hands. We raced down the access road and I held on to my door handle and desperately I tried to find my pistol with a free hand, moving across the fabric, finding nothing. My right foot nudged something and I reached down and came up with a night scope instead, and I got a cracked skull for my troubles as Felix whipped through a curve, another loud
bang!
echoing from inside the car as we broadsided a snowbank.

I looked up, head aching, tears in my eyes, as I made out a streetlight, and I yelled out, "Street's coming up!"

"I see it!" he shouted back. "How are we doing back there?"

I turned and said, "About sixty feet or so. They're moving pretty fast."

"Okay," he said, as we plowed through onto the main road, going about as fast as a landing space shuttle, "let's see if --- damn it to hell!"

There was a screech of tires as Felix spun left and just as sharply spun right, sliding out into the street. There was a flash of headlights and the blare of horns and another fishtail, and then we were racing down the road, heading toward Plum Island. I finally sat up, heart pounding, my legs shaking. There was the roar of the' engine and the rushing sound of the wind through the empty hole where the rear window had been, and I bent down and frantically rooted around, finally coming up with my Beretta.

"What the hell was that back there?" I demanded. "Simple," he said, as we raced past the frozen fields and marshlands. "Just as we popped out on the street, I saw headlights from where we came in. Another car. If we had headed back to town, they could have boxed us in."

I looked back and saw one and then two sets of headlights charging behind us. "Shit," I said.

"Very perceptive," Felix said, glancing at the rearview mirror, "Mind reminding me what we got ahead of us? And make it quick."

Which was true. Ahead of us was the straight lane of the road, heading into the low lights of Plum Island. I stammered for a second and said, "Plum Island. Wildlife preserve to the south. The village is to the north. Probably just a few hundred people there in the winter. If we can get into the town, dump the car, we'll be all right. We'll dive into a cottage or something and call the cops."

"Are we still in Newburyport?" Felix said, voice grim. "That asshole police detective will give us a hard time."

I almost laughed. "Christ on a crutch, Tinios, we're being chased by two carloads of bad guys. I don't care if we're hassled by the ghost of J. Edgar Hoover. Look, after we cross over the bridge, either go straight or go left. That will bring us into town. Whatever you do, don't turn right."

There was a small drawbridge coming up and we were moving so fast that we were airborne just for a moment, long enough for me to hit my head again on the car roof as we rose up. We slammed down and there was a scraping sound, and I wondered what fool would ever rent a car to Felix ever again. I spared another glance back.

“Looks like they're gaining," I said.

Felix also glanced back. "Hate to say you're right. Okay, here we ---“

Then he shut up, just swearing again in Italian, as we flew by orange and black signs that said DETOUR and ROAD CLOSED and ONE LANE AHEAD and the intersection was blocked off, only the road to the right and one lane straight ahead being open. Sets of headlights were screaming toward us and Felix jammed on the brakes and I slammed my hand forward on the dashboard as we slewed to the right.

"Felix!" I yelled, but there was nothing we could do.

We were now heading down a narrow road. Ahead were two signs: WELCOME TO THE PLUM ISLAND WILDLIFE REFUGE. And another: DEAD END.

For the first time I saw real fear on Felix's face. "Jesus, Lewis, I'm sorry."

I just stared ahead, not knowing what to say.

In a matter of moments we were at a length of chain near a wooden guard shack, blocking the parking lot entrance. Another slam of the brakes, but we hit a patch of ice, and Felix turned and buried the front end into a snowbank. I bucked forward, injuring my head for the third time that night, and Felix got out, yelling, "Let's go, let’s go!"

He had popped the trunk lid from inside and I was right with him, the soft interior light making everything look innocent. I had my Beretta in my coat pocket and a couple of spare magazines on the holster, and looking into the trunk, I made a quick choice. The zippered bag with the rifle went over my shoulder and the shotgun stayed behind. We would be running through snow and sand dunes, moving fast. A shotgun is good for close work and the rifle was good for long work, and I didn't want to be close to anyone. This took all of a second or two to decide, but I was still fairly slow, for by the time I stood up, with the heavy weight over my shoulder, Felix had already slammed the trunk lid and was running across the parking lot, spare ammo in his hands.

I joined him and saw the lights of our pursuers come roaring up the park road.