Thy Kingdom Come: Book One in the Sam Thorpe series (38 page)

P
opeye lay on the ground, withering in pain. Sam knelt beside him. “Don’t move. I’ll get medical help for you as soon as I can.”

Marshall crouched next to Sam, his rifle pointed at Popeye.

The truck with the insert team roared down the street toward the roadblock nearest to town. It weaved from curb to curb, a militia member in the front seat firing at the roadblock.

The state police returned fire.

A helicopter hovered overhead, its searchlight trained on the vehicle. As the truck careened toward the cruisers, one of the officers shot out the front tires. The vehicle swerved to the right and crashed into an oak tree, its stuck horn adding to the din.

Sam’s vehicle stood silent next to the curb. Men ran between the buildings, the retorts from weapons sounding everywhere. Weapons fire behind the science building alerted Sam that the state police had encircled the area. Where was Sergeant Bacher?

Sam glanced at Marshall. “You wait here. Keep your weapon trained on Popeye. I’ll get help.”

Marshall nodded.

Sam ducked low and ran back across the street, reaching the security guard lying on the ground.

The guard’s pulse was weak. He moaned between gasps for breath.

When Sam pulled open the man’s jacket, blood seeped from the wound. He would choke on his own blood and die if Sam couldn’t clear an airway and stop the bleeding.

Sam ripped off his jacket and covered the guard’s chest, pressing his gloves into the wound.

A police officer ran toward Sam, crouching as he moved. When he got close, he trained his weapon on Sam and murmured, “X-Ray.”

Sam had to think for a moment. He almost forgot that O’Brien had assigned the password X-Ray-Charlie to the operation.

Sam whispered back, “Charlie.”

The police officer knelt down beside Sam. “Colonel Thorpe?”

Sam nodded and pointed. “Security guard. He’s been shot. Needs a doc right away.”

The trooper grabbed a mic off the suspender by his collar, flipped a switch on his belt, whispered into the mic, then listened. “The medics will be here as soon as we can stabilize things.”

“Guard’s name is Case. One militia member on the ground.” Sam pointed. “Over thereby the corner of the building. Slender kid is guarding him. Kid’s okay. His name’s Marshall Pearson. He’s been helping me.”

Troopers formed a perimeter around Sam’s truck, their weapons trained at the vehicle.

Sam called to them. “That one should be empty, but there’s a third truck. I think it’s a gray Chevy.”

“Yep,” the trooper replied. “We’ve got it surrounded at the other end of the block. They won’t be going anywhere.”

“Oliver’s gone.” Sam pointed. “Last time I saw him, his Jeep cut down that alley.”

“How many vehicles total?” the trooper asked.

“Three trucks and a Jeep,” Sam replied. “I’ve accounted for everything but the Jeep carrying Oliver and Alex Prescott. She’s the FBI undercover agent.”

The trooper spoke into the radio again. “Mr. O’Brien, I’m with Colonel Thorpe. He’s says a Jeep has escaped down the alley’; probably headed west out of town on Route 11.”

Sam stood. “Let me talk to him.”

The officer handed over the microphone.

“Bob, Sam Thorpe. Oliver’s in that Jeep.” He gulped. “So is Alex.”

“They’re onto you,” O’Brien said.

“Yeah, I know. Popeye recognized Alex from that sting operation.”

“We just landed behind the administrative building.” O’Brien said.

“I’ll bet a month’s pay Oliver’s headed for the farm. I’m going after him.” Sam ran over to the Ford pickup.

The police now had two of Sam’s team spread-eagle on the sidewalk.

Sam jumped into the truck. The keys were still in the ignition.

Sam yelled to the trooper he’d talked to earlier. “I’m going after our undercover agent. Keep an eye out for a Sergeant Bacher. Big guy in black fatigues. Dangerous. He’s one of Oliver’s elite guards.”

The trooped waved. “I’ll clear things for you. Turn the truck around and head toward the roadblock at the center of town. They’ll let you through. Our radio frequency is 87.4.”

Sam jumped into the cab and fired it up. He power turned the vehicle on the icy road and switched the frequency.

Alex opened her eyes. Her head ached, and her neck felt as if it had been slammed by a hammer. She lay on the floor of the Jeep in the back, rolling back and forth as it swayed.

Oliver peered at her from the front seat. “You’re awake.”

Rose turned sharply to the right, the motion jamming her hard against the metal under the seat.

“Don’t get up, my dear,” Oliver said. “If you try, I’ll have to put a bullet in that pretty little head of yours.”

She got tossed around on the floor of the Jeep every time Rose turned. Pissed off she’d let Rose get the better of her, she considered strategies. Unfortunately, not a great time to make her move. “Where are we headed?”

“I’ll let you know. You and your friend Colonel Thorpe broke up our operation. You’ll have to pay. The shadow government won this round, but we’ll be back.”

“Tell me where the hell we’re going. There’s nothing I can do about it back here.”

“All in good time, my dear. All in good time.”

Did Sam know where she was? Had he been hurt? Was he even alive?

Sam glanced at the map. He remembered a shortcut using Highway 11/15 that would slice his time to the farm in half. He floored the gas pedal, driving the pickup as fast as he dared on the icy road.

He reached Highway 17 and turned right. A silver milk truck honked its horn and swerved to avoid Sam, ending up in a ditch. Sam hit the brakes, spun, and almost plowed into a tree next to the road. He managed to regain control of the truck.
Goddamn,
he thought,
that was close.

Sam accelerated again. The truck leaped forward, and he sped down the road.

When he reached the farm lane, he doused the lights and pulled to a stop. He had to get to Oliver before he killed Alex.

Sam grabbed the mic. “Bob, Sam Thorpe. I just turned in to the farm lane.”

O’Brien’s voice echoed over the speaker. “Things are secure at the site. We’re in the air again, about twenty minutes away.”

“Status?” Sam asked.

“Three of the militia members have been killed and four wounded. Kaminsky, ah Kramer, is in custody. He’s implicating everyone but himself. And most importantly, the NEST guys have secured the cesium.

“Roger. I’m going in. Better get some medics down here.”

“Wait for us, Sam.”

“No time.”

Sam threw the mic on the seat. He slipped the vehicle into four-wheel drive and crept up the lane, wheels slipping on the ice. Halfway up the lane, he stopped. The pickup slid off to the side. He opened the window. All quiet.

Sam grabbed his M16, stuffed the Glock 21 in his belt, switched off the light in the cab, and climbed out, staying low. Using the trees as a guide, he jogged up the lane in an infantry crouch being careful not to fall, stopping every minute or so to listen.

He reached the edge of the fence and knelt down. Darkness and silence filled the barnyard. He listened again but heard nothing. Squatting down, he picked his way along the fence, stopping at the end.

Kneeling, he surveyed the yard. No lights in the farmhouse. Fresh tire tracks in the snow. He crouched over and ran over to the barn, knelt again, and listened. Silence.

Reaching up, he slid open the outside door to the barn and tested the inside door. The handle moved, then clicked as he turned it. Only a security light in the main room. No guard.

He stepped inside and propped the door open with a chair. Oliver could be in his office, Rose backing him up. Oliver had a pistol—Sam couldn’t remember what kind—and Rose had that Heckler and Koch submachine gun.

Sam moved along the wall, eyes surveying the room. He heard no sound. When he got to Oliver’s office, he tried the door. Locked.

Heart pounding, he put his identification card into the scanner, turned the knob, and pushed open the door with his boot. The door opened with a squeak. Sam jammed himself up against the doorframe. All quiet.

Sam waited a moment, then poked his head around the door frame. The dark office was empty.

Bacher’s words came back to him in a rush. They didn’t need to worry about anyone breaking into Oliver’s office.

Shit!

He ran across the room, throwing himself through the door as the bomb in Oliver’s office exploded. Sam got blown out into the yard. He hit the ground with a resounding thud, sliding on the snow. Shaking his head to clear it, he glanced around.
Nothing broken. No Cover here. Have to move.

A machine gun opened up, bathing the yard in instant death.
Rose!
Sam burrowed down into the snow. He couldn’t stay there. Ears ringing from the blast, he did his best infantry crawl along the wall of the barn. He raised his weapon and fired three quick bursts at the flashes from the weapon, jumped up, and ran back to the fence. Another burst from the machine gun danced along the ground as Sam reached the fence, missing him by inches.

Sam spotted the source, then waited. Experience had taught him to be patient. Rose wasn’t smart enough to do that. Another burst of machine gunfire. Sam’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. A silhouette moved at the edge of the garage.

Sam heard the click as Rose reloaded.

Ducking down, Sam ran toward the farmhouse. He leaned up against a tree at the corner of the house and willed his heart to slow. Holding his breath, he listened. Silence. Rose must have smartened up.

Sam sprinted across the farmyard in a crouch, staying low as he reached the corner of the garage. Fresh tire tracks rutted in the snow. He listened. The faint sound of metal moving.

Sam pushed himself up against the outside wall of the building, feeling the rough edges of the stucco through his shirt. He visualized the room—four bays and that door that had been locked. Wooden benches stretched along one wall and a tool storage area against the other. The trucks were out so only Oliver’s Jeep would be in there. Too much open area to cross. He had to reach Alex.

Sam ducked around the corner and waited at the partially opened door. He listened. Voices.

Pushing the door open a little farther, Sam spotted Rose running across the room off to the right. Sam raised his rifle and fired. He heard a cry and thud as Rose bounced against the wall. Sam ducked down and ran inside. Rose moved, and Sam fired again. Rose didn’t move anymore.

Dim light illuminated the bays. Sam moved forward along the wall, staying low. He hid behind a table and watched. The door to the bay that had been locked was now ajar. Light streamed from inside.

With his back against the wall, Sam moved around the room. When he reached the door to the bay, Oliver’s voice called to him. “Come in, Sam. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Sam reached over and pushed open the door with his foot, staying down on his haunches and keeping his rifle at the ready.

“No need for weapons, Sam. You’re among friends. At least I thought we were friends.”

Sam peered around the frame. Oliver sat in the front seat of a camouflaged Hummer, Alex next to him. The huge vehicle gleamed, but all Sam saw was Oliver’s pistol—it looked like a .22 caliber—leveled at Alex’s chest. Sam kept his rifle trained on Oliver through the Hummer’s open door.

“No need for dramatics, Sam. Let’s talk this over. You don’t want this talented young woman to meet with any harm, do you?”

Alex leaned forward. “Get bent, asshole.”

“Is that any way to treat me after I’ve been so nice to you?” Oliver smiled and puffed on his cigar. “I even thought we might have a future, you and me.”

Alex laughed. “When donkeys fly.”

“Sam,” said Oliver, “I think it’s time that I leave. You’re going to help me.”

Sam said nothing. He kept the rifle aimed at Oliver.

“Ms. Prescott, or whatever her name is, and I will leave in my command vehicle. The windows are bullet proof, so don’t even consider stopping us. You’re going to make sure we get through. If you don’t, she dies.”