Patriots Betrayed (25 page)

Carla’s voice in the miniature earphone snatched him back to the present. “One of Janowski’s thugs heading your way. I think he saw the camera.” A few seconds later her voice came back. “Now there’s two – no, three, heading your way. They look like they mean business. Drift over my way, so I can back you. There’s too many people between us for me to be of help.”

Two college-age girls jogged by, way too young for Raylan, but playing the dirty old man, he ran after them, smiling, pretending to eye their butts as they swayed.

After fifty yards, one of the girls glanced back and noticed him. She glared and said something to her friend, who also gave him the
go away
look.

Raylan almost laughed at his feeling dirty and turned to his left and ran all-out, putting more distance between him and the oversized body guards, who were huffing and soaked with sweat in the summer heat.

From a distance, Carla kept watch, her MP5 slung hidden under a light jacket and ready. Communicating through the throat mikes, she said, “You’ve lost the thugs. They’re back a hundred yards behind you, bent over huffing and looking like they’re about to fall over from heat stroke.”

Raylan ran past her, without altering his gait or looking her way. “Let’s go,” he said, as he ran by.

In the van, Raylan wiped his face with a towel and turned the air wide open. “He’s got a damn army protecting him.”

“I could have told you that,” Carla said. “He’s expecting us.”

“I’m hungry.” Raylan threw the towel in the back. “Let’s get something.”

Carla put her submachine gun on the floorboard and covered it with her now sweat-soaked jacket. “It’s nice not being hunted by the police, isn’t it?”

Raylan nodded as he pulled out onto the street. “I didn’t believe the news reports at first, but I’m now certain the cops aren’t hunting us anymore.”

They stopped for lunch at a seafood restaurant and took a table in a back corner, where they had privacy. When the trout came, the aroma made them even more hungry, and they eagerly devoured it as they made their plans more detailed and concrete.

Carla sipped her ice tea. “Nightly showers, a soft bed, and now restaurant food. I think I’ve been spoiled and will never go back to roughing it in that van.”

“If Janowski meets an early demise, you won’t have to.” His mind was still on how to kill Janowski and get away alive. “Without knowing his routine, the frogman trick won’t work. I can’t lie out there in the surf for hours every night on the off chance he’ll decided to go for a swim in his pool or take a walk on the beach. Some other beachgoer would come along and see me first.”

“Better check on current conditions out there, and we’ll need a boat.” She forked some brown rice in her mouth.

“A boat would be nice. We could use the spotting scope to watch and learn his schedule. And we could do it from so far away our boat would be a speck on the horizon and still see well enough.”

“Why not just use the fifty from the boat?” Carla realized why, as she asked the question. “Not steady enough, even on a calm sea.”

“Especially at long range.”

She nodded. “The topography’s as flat as a tabletop around here, and there are no tall buildings. They would be watching any tall buildings, anyway.”

“Yep. We’re back to the frogman stuff again. I sure don’t want to try a frontal attack and rely on firepower alone. We’ll never get past his guards. The thing is we don’t have much time before he’ll leave the States. He’s not known to stay long at his beach house. I would rather do this right here and as soon as possible.”

Carla put her glass down. “Okay, fine, but we better not forgo the planning, and we don’t have a plan yet, just an idea. And an idea isn’t a plan.”

Raylan stopped chewing. “Before we go looking for a boat, let’s take a look at where he keeps his plane. If we can watch it from a well-hidden safe place and be within range, we can just wait there for him to show. He won’t be taking a commercial flight, so when he shows up for his trip home, we’ll get a shot.”

“His jet must be at an airport capable of handling large planes.” Carla kept her voice down, so others couldn’t hear. “Can’t be that hard to find. Most likely Orlando, since that’s where he would have to come in from outside the country. If he flew from Europe, he would have landed in New York, from there to Orlando.”

“Might’ve come in from Russia, but Orlando’s the likely airport to stake out, either way.” Raylan finished his meal. He left a tip for the waiter and handed Carla a few bills to pay for the meal at the cash register. “I’ve got to use the facilities,” he said.

Carla drank the last of her refilled glass of tea. “Me too.” On the way to the ladies’ room, she noticed that a young woman wearing a blouse several sizes too large for her got up and followed. Suspicious, Carla decided to walk past the ladies’ room and went to the waitress who had served them. She thanked her for her great service while keeping an eye on the woman. For some reason, the woman also changed her mind about using the ladies’ room and went back to her table.

Raylan emerged from the men’s restroom and asked, “Have you paid for the meal?”

“No. I haven’t even used the restroom yet,” Carla answered. “Keep watch for me while I do.”

He gave her a strange look.

Carla spoke as she walked by. “Woman wearing the baggy shirt. Don’t let her in until I’m out of there.”

He casually glanced in the woman’s direction. “Okay, but it may get embarrassing if I’m forced to tackle her. Nothing more dangerous than getting between a woman and a restroom when she’s got to pee.”

She didn’t answer, just threw him a look he knew too well as she closed the restroom door behind her.

Miss Baggy Shirt decided she had to use the restroom again and walked toward Raylan, who stood by the door. “Uh, lady, you’ll have to wait until my wife is through. It won’t be long.”

The woman was instantly irate. “What? Get out of my way!”

Raylan didn’t move. “No need to make a scene, but you’re not getting in until she comes out. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

The anger disappeared as quickly as it came, and her face washed over with sweetness. “Of course. I don’t mind waiting.” She turned as if to walk away, edging her right hand under her blouse.

What she hadn’t realized was Raylan walked along behind her, keeping within arm’s reach. When she spun around and pulled the pistol, Raylan was ready. He knocked her out with a quick jab, sending her to the floor and leaving her lying flat with the pistol next to her right hand.

Several patrons screamed “Gun!” Pandemonium broke out, with people running in every direction.

A young man jumped up. “You hit a woman!”

Rayland faced him. “She’s lucky. You pull a gun on me like she did and I won’t hit you; I’ll kill you.” He kicked the gun across the floor and under a bench. “Just sit down and relax.”

Carla came out of the restroom expecting trouble. She had heard the clamor outside. Keeping her hand on her pistol that was hidden under her blouse, she looked around, saw the woman lying on the floor and smiled.

“Time to go,” Raylan said.

Carla was on his heels. “You think?”

They left through a back door. A bulky, pale-skinned man was waiting between two SUVs. When he raised a Krinkov to fire, Raylan and Carla both double tapped him in the chest. He squeezed off ten rounds into the air before dropping to the asphalt. Raylan recognized him as one of the Russians at the doctor’s home.

While running to the van parked down the street, they expected more ambush attempts from behind any of the dozens of cars parked around them. But as they warily made their way through the maze of parked cars, it seemed the man and woman team were alone, as no more killers popped up from behind cover. It was a hair-raising experience, but they had been there before.

Nearing the parking lot where the van was parked, they rounded the corner of a building. Carla grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

Knowing she must have seen something, he scanned the area for danger. “What?”

“Back end of the lot. Hundred yards. Two vehicles. Dark SUVs like the one the Krinkov guy was near.”

“Shit. The van’s been burned, and that’s where our heavy weapons are. I don’t want to take them on with just pistols.”

“We don’t know for sure the van’s been burned,” Carla said. “They might be backup for the two at the restaurant and just happened to park there for the same reason we did: to stay out of sight.” She saw a city bus waiting at an intersection just down the street. A bus stop wasn’t far away, and the building they were standing next to hid it from the view of those in the SUVs. She yelled, “Come on. If we run we can make it.”

Raylan had no idea what she was talking about but he trusted her, so he ran and asked no questions. The bus pulled up just as they got to the stop. Stepping in and paying the fee, they found a seat close to the exit and dropped into it. The windows were tinted dark enough no one could see inside, so they kept watch for pursuit until they were at the next stop, where they got off at a shopping mall. They went in the front and out the back. Then they slipped into a wooded lot and came out on the next street over.

“I didn’t see that bus,” Raylan said. “Good thing I had you with me.”

She smiled. “The least I could do after you guarded the ladies’ room for me while I peed.”

He held a department store door open for her. “First time I’ve hit a woman in a long time.”

“That’s okay. Just don’t make it a habit,” she said.

“Never hit one who wasn’t armed and trying to kill me,” he added.

They pretended to shop for three hours, putting a few things in a cart and pushing it around while talking and planning the hit on Janowski.

Finally, Rayland said, “It’s time to check the van. We’ll approach cautiously and keep an eye out for cops, too. They may have searched it. A dog could smell the weapons inside and that would be probable cause for them to break in and search.”

“Especially with it being so close to a shootout,” Carla added.

Another thing on both their minds was the fact Janowski’s thugs parking where they did may not have been a coincidence, and the price for finding out for certain could be costly.

~~~

Raylan and Carla circled the area before approaching the van. “We better check for a bomb,” Raylan warned. “Keep your eyes busy searching for a lookout waiting with a transmitter to trigger one, while I search the van.”

“Yep.” Carla said.

After peering through the windows and finding no sign anyone had been in the van, Raylan checked the door locks for scratches or any other sign they had been picked. Finding nothing suspicious, he lay down on the asphalt, grateful the sun had started to set and the parking lot had cooled. He immediately noticed a wire near the muffler. Further inspection proved it to be a jury-rigged repair of a rusty clamp. He produced a small flashlight from his pocket and continued the search, finding no sign of a bomb or tampering with the brake lines. Not willing to take any chances, he opened the hood just enough to shine the light under it and check for trip wires. Finding none, he raised it all the way and checked the engine, starter, ignition wires, and battery for any extra wires and of course searched for explosives. Satisfied, he decided it was time to open the back doors and climb inside to search. Making his way toward the front, he examined every inch, finding nothing. The last area he searched was the driver’s seat and underneath it. Nothing. He was about to check behind the dash when something under the gas pedal caught his eye. “Damn!” A telltale wire led from inside the dash to a switch under the throttle. He carefully pulled the wires from the switch and then followed it up under the dash, where he found a two-kilo block of military grade C-4 and a battery taped to it. Enough to completely destroy the van and kill everyone in it. He pulled the electric blasting cap from the block of explosives, rendering it harmless. After checking for more bombs, he removed the block of C-4 and set it on the console between the front seats.

He inserted the key, saying a silent prayer, and turned the ignition, which produced a grinding sound from the starter. “Well, I’m still here.” The engine started on the second try. He mopped his forehead with the jacket Carla had put on top of her MP5 to hide it and noticed the gun had been moved. He drove over to where Carla was waiting. She jumped in, leaning down to pick up the submachine gun. “Don’t bother,” he said. “It’s been tampered with. I wouldn’t try to use it until we’ve had a chance to check it over.”

It was then she saw the C-4 on the console. “So they’ve been inside.”

“And left a present.” Raylan pulled out into traffic. “We’ll have to check all the guns before relying on them. They certainly left them here for a reason.”

“Probably plugged the barrels so they’ll blow up in our faces,” Carla commented.

“We need to do it soon, because the van has obviously been burned now, and chances are they’re on our tail as we speak. They may even have installed a GPS transponder that I didn’t find, though I searched carefully.” He pulled behind a shopping center. “Okay, check yours out while I check mine. Throw the mag load of ammo out in case they loaded it with tampered ammo to blow up the gun.” He reached for his M4 and followed his own advice. “Yep,” he said. “Barrel’s been plugged with C-4, it looks like. Be careful pushing it out with a cleaning rod.”

Carla moved to the back of the van to get a cleaning rod to clear the barrel of her MP5 and see if their ammo supply had also been tampered with. “Did you check our gun and ammo bags for bombs?”

“Yeah. They’re okay, but who knows about the ammo?”

She examined an unopened box of 10 millimeter rounds for her MP5. “I think my ammo is okay. First, they were not likely to have 10 millimeter stuff. Second, it’s an unusual brand with red sealing around the primers.” She examined every box. “All of my 10 millimeter stuff looks okay.” Looking further, she could see a difference between some of the 9 millimeter pistol rounds. She found the same problem with Raylan’s .45 ACP pistol ammo. “Our pistol stuff has been seeded.”

Raylan had finished clearing the M4’s barrel. “Here.” He handed her a cloth sack. “Put the questionable rounds in this.” He peered out the windows of the van, looking for trouble. “Reload all your mags with ammo you know to be good. Make it quick. Either the thugs will show up soon, or cops. We look suspicious as hell parked back here. A cop’ll think we’re doing a drug deal or something.”