Off the Grid (A Gerrit O'Rourke Novel) (41 page)

Alena placed her hand on his shoulder. “No, Gerrit. This woman is mine. You guys provide a distraction.”

“No, Alena, I can’t—”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“No, I—”

“There is a lot you do not know about me, Gerrit. This is something I am good at. Trust me.” Without waiting, she melted into the darkness.

He glanced at Stafford. The agent just shrugged. “I think she knows what she’s doing, O’Rourke. Let’s try to take the heat off her.”

Gerrit activated his mike. “Willy, feed us any information on the target. Al’s going to take point. My partner and I will be the bait. You’ll be Alena’s eyes and ears until this is over.”

“Gotcha, Mr. G.”

Gerrit turned to the agent. “Well, let’s keep Collette busy.”

Alena moved from tree to tree through the shadows. “Willy, guide me in,” she whispered into the mike. She heard several clicks. After activating her night-vision glasses, she worked her way in a wide circle around where she believed Collette lay hiding.

“Alena, you copy?” Gerrit’s voice seemed like a scream compared to the quietness surrounding her.

She responded with two clicks.

“Be careful.”

She smiled to herself, suspecting that Gerrit did not think she could take care of herself. In a way, that was sweet. If only he knew half the operations she’d been in, he would not have to worry as much. But her past she tried to keep locked away. Only Joe knew most of her history. And that was one person too many.

Stealthily, she wove through groves of trees that surrounded Kane’s complex, targeting a hill that lay beyond Collette’s position. Alena could crest that hill and work down the slope, giving her the high ground and—hopefully—the element of surprise.

It seemed forever before she reached it, clogged with low-lying brush and winter-bare trees. Some were evergreen, but not enough for good cover. She was thankful that whatever noise she made up to this point would not be carried down the hill to Collette’s hiding place. At least until she slipped over the crest and began her descent. At that point, she hoped Gerrit and Stafford would kick up some noise.

Just as she reached the apex, she heard Collette fire two quick shots.

Hugging the ground, Alena waited to see where the shots had been aimed. The rifle’s blast would not necessarily divulge direction. Only that it had been fired.

“Stafford,” Gerrit’s voice carried over the radio. “Move to your left, and I’ll try to flank her. Don’t give her a clean shot.”

“Watch your own hide, O’Rourke. I can take care of myself.” Stafford sound annoyed.

They were giving her the time she needed to make a move.

She started downward while scanning below for any sign of the target. Moonlight made the hillside light like day through the night-vision glasses. Movement caught her eye. There, behind a rock, facing away. Alena edged forward, using tree trunks as cover wherever possible in case Collette spun around.

Several more shots fired. Those came from Gerrit’s position. For a second, she was angry that he fired in her direction, and then she heard one of the rounds zip overhead. He was firing high for distraction.

Stafford fired several shots.

As the sound of rifle fire echoed up the slope, she used the noise as cover to dash down the hill, closer to Collette’s position. She jumped behind a tree trunk and waited to see if the woman had heard her. Nothing but silence. She peered around the trunk. The woman lay prone about ten yards away. She could kill Collette from here, but taking her prisoner was a higher priority. The woman knew where Joe might be.

Alena reached down and keyed her radio twice, hoping Gerrit would understand. She held her breath and waited.

Gerrit peppered the air with more shots. He got the message.

She took a deep breath and sprang from the tree, dashing the short distance between her and Collette. With only three more yards to go, Collette rose up and spun around to face her. Alena’s momentum carried her the remaining distance as the woman raised her rifle. She slammed into Collette with enough force to carry them both down the hill, knocking the woman’s rifle away.

As she leaped from the ground, Alena heard the blade of a knife unsheathed. Her night-vision glasses had been knocked out of place when she collided with Collette. Momentarily blind, she tore off her glasses and reached for her holstered gun before Collette could use the knife. The holster was empty. The weapon must have been jarred loose in the collision.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Alena saw a flash of metal as Collette lunged and slashed her way toward Alena. Moonlight glittered off the blade.

Rookie move.

Alena sidestepped the last downward slash and caught Collette’s wrist in midair. Alena torqued the arm to her left and pulled, using her attacker’s downward movement as leverage.

Collette screamed as Alena wrenched the arm, practically pulling it out of its socket. Collette dropped the weapon.

Whirling, Alena used her forward motion to smash the base of Collette’s neck as the woman crumbled to the ground. Unconscious.

Gerrit looked down at Collette, bound and lying on the ground. The woman glared up at them. He looked at Alena and shook his head. “Note to self: Don’t get Alena angry. She can hurt me.”

Alena tried to smile. “She won’t talk—at least for now. We need to find Joe some other way.”

Stafford shouldered his rifle as Willy walked up. “Let me get her back to the office and see what we can get out of her.”

“Alena is right,” Gerrit said, watching Willy search the prisoner’s pockets and remove a cell phone. “We have to move now.”

“Look at this, Mr. G.” Willy had flipped the phone open, scrolling through the menu. “She received text messages from a number I recognize. The boss man himself.”

Gerrit felt his pulse quicken. “Maybe we can get Kane to tell us something. Quick, send back a text…
mission accomplished
.”

Typing the message, Willy hit the Send button. “Message on its way.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here before locals come to investigate.”

Stafford broke in. “I’ve got you covered here, O’Rourke. My people will take over as soon as I get them on-site. I’ll handle her.” He nodded toward Collette. “Maybe I can get something out of her. It would be better if you all were gone when my people get here. Less to explain.”

Gerrit nodded.

“Man, that was fast.” Willy stared at the phone. “Just got a return text. It reads,
‘Congrats. Now, get here as fast as you can
.’”

“Doesn’t say where that is?”

“Nope. That’s all Kane sent.”

Gerrit reached down and turned on his own cell phone. “Hey, I got messages on my own phone.” All from one source. “I’ll check them on our way. Let’s meet by the car.”

“Roger that,” Willy said.

Gerrit raised the phone to his ear and heard Beck’s voice. After listening to all the messages, he joined the others waiting by the car. “Pack your bags. There’s one person I trust who might be able to help us. Start driving and I’ll try to get a message to him. We’re going back to where this all started.”

Vancouver, British Columbia

“W
e seem to be living out of this plane.” Gerrit peered out of the window as the aircraft descended toward the international airport far below. To the north, the Pacific mountains reached for the sky, with Mount Garibaldi rising like a monarch reigning over his mountainous kingdom.

Jack arranged for them to land north of Seattle on the Canadian side of the border and set up a personal escort through security. Sea-Tac would have been the closest airport, but Jack felt Kane’s people would be monitoring all arrivals into western Washington. Anyone trying to track their travel would find it difficult to zero in on them once they touched ground in Canada.

A family-size van with tinted windows sat near the terminal when they left the aircraft, and they crossed into the United States with minimal difficulty. Their falsified government-issued documents got them through Customs without a hitch. Once across the border, Gerrit used his credit card—issued under an alias to rent another van to get them near Seattle, leaving the Canadian rental behind.

Alena, sitting in the passenger seat, watched in the rearview mirror. “If someone picked up our trail, I’m not seeing it.”

In the driver’s seat, Gerrit found himself looking back as often as he looked forward. “Neither did I. Unless someone painted us with markers. Then they could be anywhere.”

“Hey, give me some credit,” Willy said. He’d been silently sitting in the back until Gerrit hinted at a screw-up. “I went over all our gear and personal items on the plane. We’re squeaky clean.”

“Maybe you missed something.” He glanced at Willy in the rearview mirror.

Willy scowled. “I didn’t miss anything, Mr. G.”

“We’re betting our lives on you.” Gerrit watched Willy flinch and Alena gave Gerrit a scowl. He got the message. “Look, I’m sorry. I guess I’m worried about Joe. Just forget I said anything.”

A slow smile emerged as Willy nodded. “You bet, Mr. G. And if you give me any more grief, I’ll just have Al kick your butt.”

Gerrit smiled and looked over at Alena.

She did not return his smile. “Gerrit, I’m not sure about this person you called. Can you trust him?”

He met her stare for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “With my life.” He gripped the steering wheel. “He’ll have our backs.”

As they continued down I-5 heading toward Seattle, he thought about the last month and how everything in his life had been turned upside down. Redneck had been the latest surprise. Since that betrayal, they all seemed to be on edge. He needed to chill out and focus on what needed to be done. He hoped there were no further surprises as they moved ahead. They just needed to find Joe and get him back alive. Everything else dimmed in comparison.

Elliot Bay Marina lay straight ahead. The salt air seemed to cleanse his lungs as Gerrit stepped from the van into the parking lot. He stretched his legs as a familiar figure worked his way through parked cars, waving to get Gerrit’s attention.

“There he is. Stan Cromwell. My old boss.” Gerrit waited until the police lieutenant drew close, thrusting out his hand.

“Man, talk about rising from the grave.” Cromwell vigorously shook his hand and pounded Gerrit on the back. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see your ugly face again.”

“Likewise, Lieutenant.”

“I’m so glad you survived.” Cromwell glanced at the other two standing a few feet away. “And who are they?”

“Let’s just say they’re friends and leave it at that.” Gerrit said. “The less you know, the better it will be for you and your retirement.”

“My ex is taking my retirement, so I don’t have a whole lot to lose.” The lieutenant tried to treat his last statement as a joke, but Gerrit could see the words only covered up deep emotional wounds. Cromwell was like a man set adrift without an anchor. “Anything I can do to help, just let me know. I got everything you asked for set up on my end. You want to see her?”

“Yeah. That’d be great.” Gerrit motioned for the others to follow as he and the lieutenant made their way toward the marina. “Another friend of mine will be sending over some supplies by courier. I’ll need to keep an eye on the parking lot. They should be here within the hour.”

Cromwell nodded. “When do you want to shove off?”

“In a few hours or as soon as it gets dark.”

Looking back, the lieutenant said, “Are you sure? Those waters—particularly as you head out toward open sea—can get pretty tricky at night.”

“Darkness works for us. Less likely to see us coming. We can look like another leisure craft as far as they’re concerned. Until we get in close. Buy us some time.”

“Whatever you say. Here she is,” Cromwell said. “A 53-foot Navigator Pilothouse, with a 370 horsepower Volvo engine, 600 gallons of fuel, and a draft of 4 feet, 5 inches. You can practically drive this baby to their front door before they see you coming.”

Gerrit studied the boat’s contours, pleased that Cromwell came up with this so quickly. “Who is it registered to in case the Coast Guard or crooks run it?”

The lieutenant smiled. “To your deceased friend Nico. Listed under one of his holding companies. We seized it after you—”

“After I died?” Gerrit smiled. “Doesn’t a drug seizure take longer before it can be turned over to local PD?”

“I just cut through some red tape. What the bean counters don’t know, won’t hurt ’em. Just don’t run this boat onto the rocks, or I will have a major problem.”

“I’ll do my best to get this back to you in one piece.”

“And no bullet holes. Right?”

“Can’t make any promises.”

“Don’t get yourself dead again, son. This old heart just can’t take any more losses.”

Gerrit placed a hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder. “Sir, I intend to survive. I might ask the same about you. Aren’t too many good guys left.”

Cromwell walked away with saying another word.

As promised, about an hour later another van entered the parking lot, compliments of Jack Thompson. Gerrit and the others struggled to get the wooden crate on board after the van left. Concealed in a large fish locker, they found enough weapons, explosives, and gear to wage a small war—which is what Gerrit suspected they might face as they continued to hunt for Richard Kane and Joe O’Rourke.