THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO (15 page)

Outside the garage, it only took her a couple of seconds to spot the vehicle again. He was making a left at the light. Fortunately, the light was red. There were three cars in front of her, which gave her the perfect position to follow him. The green arrow appeared and the man made his turn. However, the three others behind him seemed to have nowhere to go in a hurry. They slowly puttered through the intersection, causing her to almost miss the light. She got as close as she could to the car in front and followed it through as the light flashed red again. An oncoming car blew his horn at her, but she ignored it and continued on.

Now she was sitting here, outside Super 8 Motel, deciding what to do. The man had been inside for almost a half hour. And the lights in his room had just gone off. Given his age, she figured he was probably turning in for the night. She could just let it go for now, go have dinner with Farid, and then later that night, come back.

On the other hand, if she did let it go for now, there was a small possibility the man could leave again, and she might never find him. Also, it would ruin her night with Farid. She would be consumed with thinking about it. And she had already promised herself—since she couldn’t remember the last time she had a
real
date—nothing was going to ruin this night. Then she thought of something else. If she did go in there right now, rough the guy up a bit, find out who he was and why he was tailing her, and then just kill him, it would put her senses into hyperdrive. She would feel that coursing through her veins for the rest of the night. And that could only heighten the evening she had planned with Farid.

She gave it five more minutes and then turned the car off, got out, and started walking toward the motel.

At seventy-six years old, Nolan Peterson was still in great shape. He could still run five miles—and did, three times a week. He ate healthy. Didn’t smoke. Didn’t drink—except for the occasional social dark beer. Typically, he got up at six o’clock and went to bed at eleven. Seven hours sleep, that’s all he ever needed. But not today. Today, he was tired.

He wasn’t sure if it was because his age was starting to catch up with him, or if it was because he’d been running himself ragged these past few days. Ever since his friend had called him a couple of days ago, his interest had been piqued, and he’d been up late every night since, doing some good ol’ fashioned spy work. Then, when Jennings had called, it pretty much set him on course. It aggravated him that Jennings would send those other two agents to take him out of play. Jennings thought he’d lost a step. But he was still sharp as ever. And he’d proved it tonight. He’d given those two agents the slip. Sent them off chasing after that judge. He hadn’t lied to them. He really had learned that the judge was some kind of friend of Pemberton’s. He just chose to omit the fact that he knew where Pemberton was. So he’d decided to follow Pemberton himself. And then the blond showed up.

From the moment she’d walked into the restaurant, he knew something was off about her. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. The way she sauntered into the place, he figured she was some kind of call girl or something. But then she intentionally made an effort to check out the room again, once she was seated. Call girls, as far as he knew, didn’t make an effort to make sure they weren’t being watched. This girl did. Then she left, almost as quickly as she showed up. And Pemberton made no effort to leave.

He decided—on a whim—to follow the girl. But it turned out to be a bust—at least for now. She’d led him to a shopping mall. But at least he got the plate number from her car. He had a friend back home who could run the plate. He’d call him tomorrow. Right now, the excitement of the day had left him exhausted. He spent ten minutes getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth, changing into some flannel pants and a T-shirt, and washing his face.

He wasn’t much of a TV guy, so he just crawled in bed and grabbed his book from the bedside table. He figured he’d read for a few minutes until his eyes started to feel as tired as the rest of his body. It only took another ten minutes before he was spent. He reached across the bed and killed the light.

He had almost completely drifted off when he heard the soft knocking on the door. Who in the world could it be? He certainly wasn’t expecting someone. No one he knew, knew where he was. Then it hit him. It must be the two agents. He didn’t know how they tracked him down, but they
were
cut from the same cloth as he was. He supposed, if he were them, he could’ve found himself by now. He got out of the bed and walked to the door. He decided that, if they were going to roust him out of bed, he was going to at least give them some grief. He opened the door and turned back into the room without even looking at them. “Took you long enough,” he said, walking back to the bed. “I could have found me three hours ago.”

He was caught off guard when he felt the hand push him, face-first, down into the bed. He rolled over to say something but stopped short. The words got caught in his throat as he stared up into the face of the blond woman from the restaurant, who was holding a Walther PK380, and pointing it right at his head.

“Who are you?” Peterson asked.

“Funny,” she said. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

I
t was just after six o’clock, and the sun was trying to lift itself up over the mountain range. Boz had been driving for the last couple of hours while Keene slept. Keene hadn’t realized it until after the episode in the parking lot on Briley Parkway, but the two altercations with the Chinese guards had left him completely drained. It had been quite awhile since he had had to expel that kind of energy. Those weeks in the Chinese prison camp had taken a toll on him.

He knew Boz was injured and needed rest, too, so tired as he was, he’d insisted Boz take the first shift sleeping. He promised to stick to the route Boz had mapped out and assured his friend he would wake him before any trouble arose. Boz had reluctantly agreed to let Keene drive. Within ten minutes of being on the road, Boz was out.

Keene had let him sleep for the next three hours while he maneuvered the route, which consisted of small stretches on Interstate 40 mixed with two-lane county roads. Finally, when they’d gone almost as far as Johnson City, Keene couldn’t hold out any longer. He woke Boz and changed places with him.

Keene was completely out when he felt Boz nudging his arm. Everything in him wanted to ignore it. He could’ve slept for the next two days. But the tone that accompanied the nudge made him sit up straight.

“Jon, wake up. Now.”

He blinked and rubbed his eyes as he tried to focus. “What’s up? Trouble?”

“Not yet, but probably.”

Keene stared ahead and finally saw what Boz was talking about. They were nearing the border.

“I was hoping we’d get here sooner,” Boz said. “Would have made this a little easier. Sun’s going to be up soon.”

“How’s your head?”

“It’s all right. Still tender. About an hour ago, I forgot about it and let my head fall back against the headrest. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up when I yelped.”

Keene laughed a short laugh. “Bro, I was out! Would’ve taken a lot more than you crying like a girl to wake me up.”

Boz shot him a sideways glance.

“So what’s the plan?” Keene said.

Boz shrugged. “Well, the plan
was
to park a half mile out, walk the rest of the way, quietly avoid the guards, and sneak through. The same way I got here. But now that the sun is coming up…”

“Sounds like a good plan. What’s the problem?”

Boz looked at him like he hadn’t heard a word Boz had just said.

“Well, for starters, there are five CG back in Nashville who, by now, have probably run it up the chain that you and I were the ones who gave them their makeovers. Seeing as how this is the closest place for us to try and cross, I’m guessing there’s probably going to be about triple the number of guards that were there last night.”

Keene thought about that. “You’re probably right. Still doesn’t change the fact that we need to get across.”

Boz nodded. “So what do you want to do?”

“Hey, this is your mission. I’m just the asset. You tell me.”

“Asset?” Boz rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Keene decided it was time to get serious. “Okay. Give me the recon. What do we know?”

“The first thing is we need to get off this road. In about another two miles, we’re going to be sitting ducks with nowhere to go. I’ve got some topography maps in my bag. We’ll use those to see what’s the best way to approach the gate. After that, we’ll have about a five-mile hike. I have a car stashed. Let’s just hope it’s still there.”

“Hope?”

“Well, the CG aren’t supposed to cross the border for anything. The mountain range is ours. Part of the cease-fire agreement with Chin. But those woods are dense and thick and have nothing in them but wildlife for miles sometimes. The Chinese like American deer. So it’s not uncommon to hear about them leaving their posts and going hunting. And there are only so many roads that you can travel on in there. So if one of them happened upon the right road between yesterday and today…”

“Then we’re going to have longer than a five-mile hike.”

Boz didn’t reply but turned the car off the road onto a dirt road. Keene didn’t know if his friend knew where he was going, or if the road just looked like a good place to get off. Either way, their time in a car was over. At least for now. He hoped.

The pale blue hovering over the mountaintops was beginning to give way to a thin line of pink. In another half hour, it would be fully daylight. And then they would be fully exposed.

Boz stayed on the narrow dirt road for another three-quarters of a mile and then pulled over to the side. Nothing but trees and thick forest lined them on either side.

Keene got out and looked around. “You know where we are?”

“Nope. But I’m about to find out.”

Boz grabbed his bag from the backseat, retrieved some loose papers, and laid them out on the hood. He clicked on his flashlight and studied the maps for a second.

“Here.” He pointed with his finger. “We’re here. And the CG post is there.” He moved his finger across the page. “We need to cross here.” He looked up to the sky and then to his watch. “And we’ve got about a half hour to do it.”

Keene looked down at the map to where Boz had pointed. “That’s almost two miles. With gear. And don’t forget the guards that are probably waiting for us—me.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re such a big deal.” Boz smiled. “Maybe if you’d been more careful a few months ago, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Keene slung his pack over his shoulder. “Let’s move it, Chappy. Double time.”

“Roger that.”

The two took off through the trees, headed straight east. They tried to move as silently as they could, but with the pace they needed to keep—in order to try and beat the sun—they weren’t. Fortunately, no CG were anywhere to be found as they approached the border. However, that wouldn’t be the case for much longer.

As they approached the clearing Boz had pointed out on the map, they could see the barricades set up less than a thousand yards ahead. The border crossing was situated in the middle of what used to be I-40 as it entered the man-made canyon that had been cut years ago for the interstate to pass through the mountains. On either side of the barricades a chain-link fence topped with razor wire ran as far as the eye could see north and south. On the other side of the razor wire stood jagged cliffs and nearly impenetrable, thick forest, filled with sudden drop-offs and chasms. Mother nature’s own barricade, which made this border crossing the only viable option for at least twenty miles in either direction.

The sun was coming up fast now. They didn’t have much more time. Keene looked at Boz, who had hung his head and was shaking it back and forth.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was afraid of this.”

“What?”

“When I crossed here last night, there weren’t even one-third as many guards.” He pointed to the large military trucks and sandbag barricade stations that were set up every fifty feet or so. “And those weren’t here at all.”

“They know we’re coming.”

“Looks that way.”

Keene shrugged. “Well, I’m flattered they think you and I need this much resistance.”

“Yeah…,” Boz said slowly.

Keene could almost see the wheels spinning in Boz’s head. “What?”

“They have no idea that it’s just you and me. Far as they know, there’s an entire team here to extract you. And they’re prepared for it.”

“And what better way to get by them,” Keene said, “than to give them what they’re expecting?”

“Exactly.”

“That’s great. But where are you going to get six more guys to go rush that barricade?”

“Good point.”

Keene thought for a moment. “I’ve got an idea.”

He quickly relayed his plan. They would separate and try to draw a few guards into the woods where they were. They would disarm the guards and take them captive. From there, it was up to Boz to make the rest of the plan work.

They skirted the tree line of the clearing until it brought them to within twenty yards of the post on the far north side. The scenario couldn’t have played out any more perfectly. Four guards stood post. Two were leaning against the chain-link fence, talking with each other. The other two were sitting down behind one of the sandbag barriers, checking their weapons. The closest guards from these four were more than a hundred yards farther to the south.