No Mercy (13 page)

"Let me get down outta this," Jonathan said. "Shit gives braced himself, his left leg ahead of his right. He settled himself with a deep breath and tightened his whole hand around the pistol-grip stock as he tucked his shoulder in. When the weapon barked, the kid seemed ready for it. Even without binoculars, Jonathan could see the white gouge that the bullet carved into the bark of the tree.

"Very nice," he said, meaning it. "Give me another."

Thomas set himself and fired again. More wood flew.

Jonathan grinned. "Excellent. Where'd you learn to shoot?"

"A buddy of mine at school has a farm. I've killed hundreds of bottles in the last four years."

"Bottles don't shoot back at you," Boxers growled. "Ever shot anything that was alive?"

Thomas had had it with Boxers' grousing. "What the
hell
is your problem with me? I'm on your side."

"I don't need you on my side," Boxers said.

"But he's here, isn't he?" Jonathan said. "He's volunteered to put himself in harm's way, and we're going to need the extra manpower."

"Against these yahoos that are on their way? Bullshit."

"That's
enough
!" Jonathan snapped.

"It's
crazy
!" the big man snapped back. "Can we talk privately?"

"We don't have time," Jonathan said. What was the point? He knew where the conversation was going to go. "Just say what's on your mind."

Boxers shook his head. "Not in front of the kid."

"Hey!" Thomas barked. "What is with--"

"You don't know shit, kid. You don't even know what you're getting into."

"I know enough," Thomas said.

"No you don't! And the fact that you think you do is even scarier." He turned to Jonathan. "You don't have the right to expose them like this. It's wrong, and you know it."

Jonathan stared, stunned.

"I'm good for this, Scorpion," Thomas said.

Piss and vinegar, Jonathan thought.

"What are you gonna do,
Scorpion
?" Boxers pressed. "You want me to speak freely, I'll speak freely. You got the only two people who actually know how to shoot tied up on the porch, you got one who's ready to surrender to anybody who'll listen, you got an old guy with a bad leg, and a kid who thinks we're gonna be attacked by bottles. What in that picture looks anything but crazy to you? If these Brigade yahoos are good enough to make us need what we've got, then we're completely screwed. You're gonna get them killed."

Jonathan didn't know what to say. Andrew Hawkins's description of Ivan Patrick's demagoguery echoed in his head. If Boxers was right--if he was asking too much from people who had no chance to deliver--then Jonathan and Ivan had something terrible in common. He said nothing as he turned and started walking toward the tree line.

"Where you goin'?" Boxers wanted to know.

Jonathan kept walking. He needed to think. A knot had formed in his stomach. Say what you like, package it as you wish, this was a revenge mission--a murder mission--and he realized now that it was a poisonous one. Dom and Ven were both right. Boxers had even seen it, for God's sake enough for me. Now let's get ready to kill some bad guys."

This time as Boxers led, Jonathan followed. As he walked, he thought about Boxers' question. The coming fight would go as it would go. Far more difficult was the next step. Irene Rivers could not have been more direct in her warning: the weapons they had in their possession were a Homeland Security issue now, meaning presumption of guilt and suspension of all civil rights. It meant disappearing. Poof. It meant never having existed at all.

Jonathan had learned years ago that it was a mistake to second-guess the past, but under the circumstances of the last week, he found it impossible not to. The ripple effect of Thomas's rescue was staggering in its scope, the number of ruined lives and people killed--with more to come tonight.

All because of...what? Greed, he supposed. That was the common denominator. The Patrones and Carlyle Industries had been greedy for money, Fabian Conger had been greedy for attention, and the agencies that had funded the project in the first place were greedy for power. All the rest were soldiers, pawns, or merely collateral damage.

There had to be a way to stop the juggernaut of destruction. There had to be an exit strategy that would allow them to win this for real. All Jonathan had to do was find the right handle to pull.

Good old-fashioned reverse logic.

A fully formed plan came to him just like that, out of nowhere. He jerked to a stop and Boxers turned.

"What's wrong now?" Big Guy asked.

"Not a thing," Jonathan said with a grin. "I've got the answer."

Jonathan gathered the crowd into the dining room for another chat. With two of the chairs taken by Gail Bonneville and her deputy, Thomas sat on the sofa topping off the magazine he'd fired from. Stephenson and Julie took the remaining chairs while Jonathan and Boxers remained standing. Jonathan had a little speech prepared in his head, but before he could say anything, Stephenson preempted him. "I think you need to share your plan," he said. "And tell us how we can help." As he spoke that last sentence, he shot a glare at Julie, as if daring her to start up again.

Jonathan exchanged glances with Boxers, then leaned forward with his forearms resting on the table. "I've looked over the latest satellite imagery of this place, and from what I can tell, access is limited to that bridge we came over yesterday. Is that right?"

Stephenson nodded.

"You're sure?" Jonathan pressed. "No fire roads, deer trails, hiking trails, nothing like that? Nothing where a four-wheeler can gain access?"

"I'm sure," Stephenson said. And right away he backpedaled, "Well, I guess if you want to get into a place badly enough, there's always a way."

Jonathan conceded the obvious. "Of course. But we want to make it as difficult for them as possible."

"What about the fire road on the top of the ridge?" Thomas asked.

Stephenson scowled. "That's hardly access to the property."

Jonathan pulled a USGS map of the area from a flap pocket

Jonathan noted the closely packed contour lines. "That's a hell of a steep slope."

"Have you
seen
the backyard?" Julie said.

Jonathan forced a smile. God, he didn't like that woman. There was indeed a fairly steep slope to the backyard, but apparently just beyond the tree line, it went nearly vertical.

"Why isn't the road on the map?" Boxers asked. "These things are usually pretty accurate."

"There's really not much to it," Thomas said. "It's not really even a road. More like a wide trail."

Jonathan asked, "How do you get to it? Where does it begin and end?"

Stephenson and Thomas looked to each other for answers, then both shook their heads. "I have no idea," Thomas said for both of them. "I've never hiked it from beginning to end. I only know it's there because that's where you end up when you go out back and start climbing."

Jonathan turned to Stephenson. "You either?"

"Nope. I've probably gone a mile in each direction over the years, but I've never found the end. It's in pretty rough shape."

It was inconceivable to Jonathan that anyone could grow up here and not know. He looked to Boxers. "What do you think?"

"It's a weakness. Our Achilles' heel. If we had a platoon, we'd cover it. As it is, I think we have to live with it."

Jonathan agreed. "Okay, that brings us to our various roles for when the war comes." Julie recoiled from the term, but Jonathan didn't back down. "The key to survival once the shooting starts is for you guys to spend as much time as possible here inside the lodge. These timbers in the walls will stop just about anything they can throw at us. They're just about bulletproof."

"What about the windows?" Julie asked.

"Not bulletproof," Jonathan said. "We're going to spend the next few hours making this as sturdy a fortress as possible. We need to block access to that bridge out there to slow them down and hopefully even keep them out. Big Guy and I will set up an ambush at that spot, so if everything goes perfectly, you won't even have to worry about firing a shot up here."

"Are you going to take the bridge out completely?" Stephenson asked.

Jonathan shook his head. "I think we'll rig it, but I don't want to blow it unless we have to. When it's all over, it'd be nice to have a way to get out again."

"I presume you'll want some of us out there to help you with the ambush," Stephenson said.

This time the head shake was vigorous. "Absolutely not. Ambushes are tricky. After the first shot, they tend to go to shit, and it's very damn easy to kill your team members. Besides, even the best-planned ambush is a dynamic event, and with that wounded leg, you won't be dynamic for a while. If Big Guy or I get hit, then this place becomes the Alamo. You'll need to be here to defend it."

"Everybody died at the Alamo," Julie said. Ever the voice of optimism.

"So what's next?" Thomas asked.

"Big Guy and I are going to take care of business down at the bridge and out around the house. I need you guys to practice reloading your weapons in a hurry. Over and over again. Load 'em up and then jack out the rounds and load 'em up again. You'll be doing it for real in the dark, so make sure your hands know what to do."

"Won't we have tofi expose ourselves to a window to shoot?" Julie asked, another inquiry from Captain Obvious.

He didn't bother to answer. "Steve, when you get a chance I need you to rig a lightproof space upstairs where we can monitor the satellite images without the glow providing an easy target."

"Will do," he said.

Jonathan stood. "Let's get to it, then."

"What about us?" Gail asked.

Everyone stopped; everyone turned to face them. "What about you?" Jonathan asked.

"Being quiet would be a good first step," Boxers offered.

"We can help," she said.

Boxers laughed. "Yeah, 'helpful' is exactly the vibe I've been getting off of you all day."

Jesse Collier gave it a try. "We talked during your target practice. This arrangement here, with us all trussed up, makes no sense at all. Y'all are in a box. You can't call for help, and hell is coming to pay a visit. Like it or not, we're in the box with you, and we're going to be in the middle of all the shooting. If these Green Brigade people you're talking about kill you, they're sure as hell going to kill us, too. However it comes down, you'll be wishing you had additional hands, and here we are. It only makes sense that we'd want to help."

Boxers laughed.

Jonathan didn't. His eyes narrowed as he considered Jesse's words.

"You're not thinking of saying yes, are you, Boss?"

Jesse pressed harder. "We came here to arrest you for the crimes committed in Samson. I didn't even want to do that, to tell the truth. Seems to me, the Patrones got what was coming to them. This fight here? We got no dog in it."

"But you're offering to fight with us anyway?" Stephenson asked.

"It beats getting shot while tied in a chair," Gail said.

Jonathan gave Gail a hard look. "And what about those charges in Samson? You still intend to pursue them?"

She took a long time answering. When she did, she looked a little ill. "It's my job," she said. "I'll have to."

Jonathan smiled. His question had been a test. If she'd said she would drop the charges, he would have known that they were playing an angle--telling them what they thought they wanted to hear. He nodded to Stephenson. "Cut them loose and put them to work," he said.

Jonathan spent an hour with Boxers on the near side of the bridge, using two-foot lengths of detonating cord to drop trees across the road. Few toys were more fun than det cord. Thomas hung around as their shadow, watching the process so carefully that Jonathan let him set the detonators. Finally, with the three of them huddled a safe distance away from the current shot, Jonathan handed Thomas the wireless trigger. "You do it," he said.

The kid looked like he'd just gotten a bike at Christmas. "Really?"

Jonathan ignored Boxers' angry glare. "Remember what to do?"

"Just put in the battery, move the switch to Arm, and push the button, right?"

"After shouting what?"

Thomas nodded. "Oh, yeah." He shouted, "Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!" Then he inserted the AA battery, moved the safe to the earth, gathering momentum as it crashed through its coniferous siblings.

Thomas grinned. "That is so cool." He handed the trigger back to Jonathan.

"The technical term is KFB," Boxers said, rising to his feet.

"KFB?" Thomas asked, taking the bait.

"Ka-fuckin'-boom."

They laughed, Thomas harder than the others. "Can I ask a question?"

"Do you do anything but?" Boxers grumped.

Thomas was learning Boxers' crankiness. "We kept the bridge so we can get out, but aren't we still cutting off our own escape with the trees?"

"We're not here to escape," Jonathan said without hesitation. "We're here to prevail. If we don't prevail, escape won't be an option. If we win, we'll have time to clear a path."

Thomas's eyes narrowed. "You don't really think we might get killed here, do you?"

"
Might's
a pretty tough bar to clear," Jonathan said. "They're gonna be shooting back."

"But we're better than them, right?" he pressed. Anticipating Boxer's inevitable barb, he added, "I mean you. You're better than them."

"It's not about being better. Half of it's just about being lucky. Once a bullet's in the air, it's on its way to where it's going. The best you can hope for is to stay out of its way." It wasn't what Thomas wanted to hear.

"You still got time to skedaddle," Boxers urged.

Thomas shook his head, but he looked peaked. "I said I'd stay. I'll stay."

Jonathan clapped him on the shoulder. "Big Guy and I have both seen our share of shoot-outs. We haven't lost yet."

Thomas tried to smile, but reality was settling in. "What's it like?" he asked. "You know,
after
."

Jonathan cocked his head. "After a battle?"

"After killing someone."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed as he decided not to answer. "We should head back," he said.

"I want to know."

"Soon enough, you will."

"I'm serious."

"I don't have an answer for you. It affects different people different ways. It changes you, sure, but people all handle it differently."

"How did you handle it?"

Jonathan sighed. Talk like this never came to good. "I guess it didn't hurt me enough to make me unwilling to do it again."

"But we're ultimately talking more murder charges, aren't we? Only these'll be real."

"Don't worry about that, either," Jonathan said.

"Why?"

Boxers guffawed, "Because they can't charge you with nothin' when you're already dead."