Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (47 page)

She ignored Jayne's acid gaze and turned her attention briefly to the side walls—both lined with built in bookshelves sagging under the weight of dozens upon dozens of books.
 
On the left wall, below the books sat a Chippendale accent table, richly carved and holding a notebook and a few pencils.

Her eyes darted across to the other wall as she took her first step into the room but movement from Reginald's chair stopped her evaluation.
 
 
He
looked up over his glass of amber brandy and smiled.
 
"My dear, are you quite well?
 
I was beginning to worry."

"Yes, we were both most concerned," Jayne said under her breath.

Danika smiled at Reginald and shot daggers at Jayne.
 
Liars, the both of you.
 
She strolled forward as if she hadn't just been cataloging everything she could use as a weapon against him.
 
Reginald had trained her well.

"Oh, this will be fun, I can tell…" he said as he handed her a full glass of brandy.
 
"'56 Royale.
 
I've been saving it for a special occasion.
 
The reunion of my best operators fits that bill rather nicely."

Jayne raised her half-empty glass in a lazy salute.
 
"
Sk
å
l
," she muttered.

Danika raised her glass.
 
"Cheers," she replied, clicking her glass against Reginald's.
 
The brandy left a warm trail down her throat and a glow in her stomach, but Reginald did not lie.
 
It was exquisite.

She closed her eyes and savored the taste as the slightly fruity liquid left her mouth warm and tingling.
 
Reginald smiled as he took his seat by the fire.

He's trying to get me drunk…
she thought, looking at the full glass in her hand.
 
He knows I missed dinner.

A cold sweat broke out between her uncovered shoulder blades.
 
What game are you playing?
 
Her hand itched for the knife strapped to her thigh under her dress but she pushed the impulse away and moved over to a third chair.
 

Danika lowered herself into the seat, daintily adjusting silken blue folds of her dress.
 
Her fingers brushed a little nub of metal woven into one of the pleats.
 
As she adjusted the dress and crossed her legs, she gave Reginald a peek up her long, slender thigh.
 

He's getting suspicious.
 
It's time.
 
While his eyes were occupied, she squeezed her fingers together and snapped the little hidden transmitter.

A powerful radio pulse from her transmitter activated the satellite phone back in her room.
 
She counted down the seconds until the sat phone would send out an automated call to the receiver on the propane tanks she'd rigged in Uig.
 

Jayne continued to make snide remarks and Reginald persisted with his witty banter.
 
Danika said little but maintained an even tone and chatted amicably enough.
 
A minute passed, then two, three, then four.
 
She worried that something had gone wrong—there should be an alarm by now if the propane tanks blew on time.

She was calculating how to take out Reginald and Jayne by surprise when Stefan burst into the room.
 
"A thousand pardons, my lord—"

"What is it?" Reginald asked, already on his feet, his dinner jacket slightly askew.

"There is a matter that requires your immediate attention."

"Is it the Council?" he demanded, adjusting his jacket.
 
"Have they made a move against me?"

Stefan inclined his head.
 
"Unknown, sir.
 
There's been an explosion."

"Where?" asked Jayne.

"Uig," replied Stefan, his eyes still on Reginald.

Reginald paused at the door.
 
"The mines?"
 

Danika didn't hear Stefan's response—he'd already shut the door.
 
The merrily crackling fire provided the only sound in the room.

"Well, well, well," said Jayne as she rose from her chair.
 
The flame red dress she wore was slit from the floor to her waist on the left side, revealing a mile of tanned skin.
 
"I never liked you—and I never trusted you—but I never thought you had the stones to pull off something like this."

Shit
.
 
Danika smiled.
 
"Why, whatever are you talking about?"

"Cut the bullshit…
Svea,
" Jayne said as she walked casually from the fireplace toward Danika.
 
"I know what you're doing."
 

Danika stood.
 
At her full height, she was at least a head taller than Jayne.
 
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
 
Fitta
.

Jayne sneered.
 
"Reginald may be too blind to see it, but you can't fool me, you Swedish bitch."

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it?" asked Danika as she took a sip of brandy.
 

"It sure does."
 
Jayne threw her glass at Danika's face and lunged.

C
HAPTER
38

Salmon Falls, Idaho.

D
ENNY
CROUCHED
AT
THE
rear of his hunting camp.
 
He was using the same park service station the Rangers had taken for temporary refuge when the Russians had attacked.
 
He was the only one in town that remembered its existence.
 
He never even told the Andertons where it was.
 
It was safer for everyone that way.

He stared into the fire, grateful for the fact he didn't need his coat inside.
 
Outside, the temperature continued to fall.
 
Winter had finally arrived and punished everything caught outdoors after sunset.
 
He sighed and checked his watch.
 
Still another half hour before John called for his evening chat.
 

Denny pulled out his tomahawk and sharpened the blade.
 
The whetstone made a familiar, comforting
sound and before long, he'd lapsed into the hypnotic rhythm.

Shnnick, shnnick, shnnick
.
 
Flip the blade over.
 
Shnnick, shnnick, shnnick
in the opposite direction.
 
Flip the blade over again.

Shnnick, shnnick, shnnick.

As he sharpened, Denny's mind wandered back to the events of the previous night:
 
The Battle of the Cabin, they were calling it in town.
 
He closed his eyes and tried to put the memories to rest.
 
He had to think about what to do next, not wallow in what horrors had already taken place.
 
That way lied madness.
 

Denny paused in his sharpening and stared at the smoky ceiling.
 
If only they'd listened to reason.
 
If only Townsen hadn't been such a megalomaniacal fool—power-hungry and greedy.

If, if, if.
 
Denny sighed and put the tomahawk aside.
 
He gripped the whetstone and squeezed until his hand burned.
 
It wasn't right.
 
It wasn't fair.
 

All those lives wasted—and for what?
 
Townsen was still in control, the people were still starving.
 
They were still on the cusp of a civil war.
 

Well, maybe not anymore.
 
Maybe we're past the cusp.

The radio chirped and shook Denny from his thoughts.
 
"Denny?
"

Denny sighed and picked up his radio.
 
You're early.
 
Again.
 
"Yes, John."

"That you?"

Denny rolled his eyes.
 
"Last time I checked."

Denny waited for a moment in silence.
 
That wasn't fair.
 
John had nothing to do with the events at the cabin.
 
He pressed the transmit button again.
 
"John…look…"
 
He released the button, trying to think of what to say next.

"Hold your horses, I'll be right there."

Denny stared at the radio for a second.
 
"What?"

The frequency stayed locked.
 
He heard nothing.
 
Denny shook his head.
 
"John, I'm sorry about that, I didn't mean to be snippy with you."

He waited for John to acknowledge.
 
Still nothing.
 
This is strange.
 

"John?
 
Are you there?"

He waited another full minute

"John!
 
You're making me nervous.
 
Come in, John."

"
That's awful kind of you to care,
" said a new voice.
 
Younger, stronger, harsher than John Anderton.
 
"
But you got the wrong John, Denny boy.
"

Denny felt a chill creep through his body.
 
"Townsen?"

"The one and only!"
 
He sounded drunk.

"Where's John?"

"Oh, the greedy little traitor's right here.
 
Go on, piggy—say something."

"Denny!
 
Run!"

"John!" Denny shouted.
 
Townsen had also found out about John's bunker.
 
"Townsen, listen to me—don't hurt them!
 
They had nothing to do with the cabin."

There was a moment of silence before Townsen's voice returned.
 
"Nothing to do with it, huh?"

In the background, Denny heard Ruth crying.
 
"Don't hurt Ruth, she's innocent…" Denny released the transmit button.
 
He closed his eyes, sending a prayer heavenward.
 
He dreaded what he would hear next.

"Whaddya think I am, some kinna monster?
 
Maybe one that kills boys?"

"John, I'm sorry Jeb got shot, but I didn't do it!"

"You're real funny for an Indian—you know that?
" asked John, his words slightly slurred.
 
"You can't lie—I can smell a liar, cain't I boys?
 
A mile away!"

"I'm telling you the truth John—I had nothing to do with your son's death."

"That's not what his friends told me!"
Townsen raged.
"That's right, I know all about when you attacked my boy with your axe!
 
My boy—you killed him!"

Denny felt the conversation slipping away.
 
"John, that was a different incident…that wasn't an attack."

"My boy…"
Townsen muttered.
 
In the background Ruth wailed.
 
"My boy…he died in my arms…you know that?"
whispered Townsen.

Denny closed his eyes and put his hands to his forehead.
 
He'd known when he saw the body on the ground, that Jeb had been shot and killed.
 
All possibility of ending things peacefully had been killed the same day as that teenaged troublemaker.
 

"You ever have kids?"
 
Townsen asked conversationally.
 
Denny noticed that Ruth had fallen silent.
 
"Maybe get a couple half-breeds on that looker you had?"

Denny struggled to keep his voice calm.
 
"No, my wife died in The Great pandemic," he said through clenched teeth.

There was a moment of silence before Townsen replied.
 
"Mine too.
 
Rough times…"

Denny felt a flicker of hope in his chest.
 
If I can keep him talking, maybe I'll be able to reason with him and make him understand...
 
"That's right—it was a rough time for all of us.
 
There's not a day goes by I don't miss her."

"Fuck you,
" said Townsen with enough venom his voice Denny leaned back from the radio.
 
"
Fuck you and your dead wife!
 
You killed my boy.
"

"John! I'm telling you, the Andertons are innocent."

"Is that right?
 
What you call aiding and abetting the enemy?
 
Oh yeah—I knew you were alive.
 
I knew you were out there somewhere.
 
But you went all native and disappeared into the trees or some mystical shit.
 
I didn't know how you were getting supplies—now I do.
 
Them government boys gave me some fancy toys when I told them I'd swear to uphold the law in the name of President Barron.
 
One of them toys was a thermal imaging camera."