Ramsey's Gold (Drake Ramsey Book 1) (10 page)

“Take care, kid.”

“You too, Harry. And thanks.”

Relieved, and reconsidering Jack’s alarm, he wondered whether maybe the old man had been in one too many firefights and was seeing danger behind every tumbleweed. Sitting in the living room, miles from anything, with the biggest threat to him noisily cleaning the kitchen, it all seemed a little…overblown.

Of course, there was the open question about Patricia’s accident, but he suspected that was unanswerable. He’d never met the woman, so how could he possibly know what demons she was battling? Maybe she’d grown tired of waking up every day and drawing breath. It happened, he knew. Each morning some people decided they can’t go on, and while most would find a reason to continue, there would be a few who felt the struggle just wasn’t worth it. Perhaps Patricia had been one of those, where the future was more frightening than eternal nothingness.

By the time Jack returned, Drake had just about convinced himself that this was all drama created by a bored man with time on his hands. One look at Jack’s face told Drake that he’d gotten that badly wrong. Jack sat down and tossed a single piece of paper onto the coffee table.

“That your boy?” he asked gruffly.

Drake picked up the paper and began reading the article Jack had printed out. As he did, the color drained from his face, and for a moment he thought he was going to black out.

Chapter Twelve

When he was finished skimming the article, he placed the paper back on the table and took several deep breaths. Jack raised one eyebrow and said nothing, waiting for Drake to comment. Eventually Drake regained his composure and did.

“Yes, that’s him.”

“That’s what I was afraid of. That’s the Russians’ style. Brutal, obvious, and completely unconcerned about the law. Unless you think a torture-murder, as the papers are calling it, is unrelated.”

“I…I don’t know what to think.”

“Well, I do. I don’t need to wait to hear back from my spook friend. Whether it’s the same two or their newer twins, they’re coming after the journal. Which makes you nothing but a liability.”

Drake bristled. “Then I’ll leave.”

“That won’t solve anything. Guys like this just keep coming. You weren’t at the attorney’s, and that didn’t stop them from slicing him up like a Christmas turkey, did it? Do you really think they’ll come in, ask Allie and me some polite questions, and then apologize for the bother and leave when we tell them that we have no idea what they’re talking about?”

“I just talked to my boss. Nobody’s asking about me.”

“That’s your first lucky break. Maybe the trail stopped at the attorney. Did he have your address?”

Drake thought about it. “Yes.”

“Then you are, as they used to say in the game, blown. You can’t go back home. They’ll be waiting.” He hesitated, calculating quickly. “Damn. You have a cell phone, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

Jack held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

“Why?”

Jack scowled. “Drake, let’s get one thing straight. Not to be rude, but when I tell you to do something, do it. Your life may depend on it. This is not make-believe. You’re in very real danger. Two people have died so far. I say ‘so far’ because I can guarantee that this is only the start. If you want to stay alive, don’t ask questions. Just give me the phone. Now.”

Drake bit back the surge of anger at the older man’s tone and told himself that it wasn’t personal – Jack was used to issuing terse commands, he could tell, and had probably never learned to soften his style. He handed Jack his cell, and Jack flipped the back open and removed the battery. “I don’t know if these have a secondary power source in them, but we have to assume so. You can be tracked with your phone. Anywhere in the world. You say you’ve got a photographic memory?”

“I said almost photographic.”

“What does that mean? Almost?”

“It means it’s almost photographic. I don’t know how to explain it. I can see a document I read once, clearly, but it will fade over time.”

“Can you memorize your phone contacts and email lists?”

“I already have. It’s not that big a list.”

“All right, then. Come with me.”

Drake followed Jack to the rear door and out into the sunshine. They moved to the barn, and once inside, Jack went to a tool shed and opened it. When he turned back to face Drake, he held a sledgehammer.

“What are you going to do?” Drake asked.

“What do you think?”

They walked back outside into the brisk morning air. Jack tossed the phone onto the hard-packed dirt and with a single powerful swing, crushed it. Plastic pieces flew everywhere, and Drake watched as his lifeline to the real world disintegrated before his eyes.

“Did you really have to do that?” he asked.

“Depends. Do you want your appendages cut off and fed to you, one at a time?”

“Let’s assume that’s a no.”

“Did you read the article? That’s what they’ll do if they find you. Or maybe they’ll be more creative. A blowtorch. Acid. Broken glass. Bleach. Depends on how much they believe you when you tell them where the journal is. Of course, they’ll still kill you when all’s said and done, but by the time they do, you’ll be begging for death, so they’ll actually be doing you a favor.”

“You aren’t kidding, are you?”

Jack leaned aside and spat. “Drake, do I seem possessed of a whimsical nature?”

Drake studied his expression. “Not really.”

“Then you can assume I don’t kid.”

“What…what do I do now? I mean, assuming these guys are looking for me?”

“Oh, I think that’s a safe assumption. But that’s a good question. The problem, as I see it, is the same as your father had after he told the Russians to go to hell. There’s only one way you’ll ever be safe. And you’re not going to like it. Hell, I don’t like it.”

“You…you can’t be thinking…”

“We need to get out of here and head to South America. The only way they’re going to quit is if you find Paititi and the treasure’s out of their grasp. As long as they think it’s there and that you have information that could get them to it, you’re dead meat. And unfortunately, so am I. And so’s Allie. That’s just the way it’ll play. It’s not right or wrong. It just is. But my biggest problem is that you’re not ready. How much do you know about hand-to-hand combat?”

“Some. Like I told you, I did take martial arts.”

“Ever been in a street fight?”

“A couple of times I got into it with bail skips.”

“How about weapons? You ever fired a gun?”

“No.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve had any survival training.”

“Nope.”

Jack sighed and then went back into the barn and put the sledge away. When he came out, he waved a hand towards the black plastic pieces all over the ground. “Pick those up. Don’t leave any, or when they get here, they’ll find whatever you missed, and they’ll know we’re onto them.”

Drake watched him walk back toward the house. “What are you going to do?” he called after Jack.

“Try to explain to Allie why she’s in mortal danger, and then load a bunch of guns before I pack a bag and empty the safe. I want to be out of here in twenty minutes.”

“Where are you going?”

“We. Where are
we
going.” Jack turned and studied Drake. “You’ll find out when we get there.”

~ ~ ~

A kit of pigeons flapped from the sidewalk in front of the downtown building’s tired green façade. The New Start Bail Bonds sign blinked on and off, its “Open 24 Hours” tagline not entirely accurate since the option after seven at night was to contact a call center that would in turn take a message and forward it to Harry’s phone. Scattered clouds drifted lazily across the turquoise sky, the prior day’s storm having hit with full force in the afternoon and spent itself by midnight. The air smelled like wet grass and exhaust from the nearby freeway, and the birds flapped higher before turning as one and shooting south.

Betty had been out to lunch for ten minutes when the front door chimed, alerting Harry that someone was there. That was always how his day played – business came on its own schedule, and it was always a big hurry, someone’s freedom at stake.

“Just a second,” he called from his office, and when he didn’t hear a response, he put down his pen and rose. “Hello?”

Nothing.

He opened his door and stepped out to find two men in long overcoats standing by Betty’s desk.

“Can I help you?” Harry asked.

Vadim grimaced slightly, and Harry realized as his face cracked that it was his attempt at a smile, the effect as inviting as the toothy grin of a moray eel.

“I certainly hope so.”

Chapter Thirteen

Drake hoisted his bag, his new knife clutched in his free hand, and followed Jack to the vehicles. Allie was already in her Toyota and would accompany him to the car lot in Austin to drop the rental off before driving to meet her father at an undisclosed location. Jack had warned him that he wanted to sever all ties with the system immediately, and cautioned against using his credit cards on the off chance the Russians were tracking them.

The landline had rung when Drake had joined him inside the house, and after a hurried discussion, Jack had set down the receiver and turned to Drake, who’d taken his usual position on the sofa.

“The Russians were released from Siberia seven months ago. Unbelievable. They served almost twenty years, and their sentences were for life, but apparently a tribunal is reexamining all the trials from that period, and determined that the sentences were overly harsh.”

“So they’re on the loose.”

“That’s correct. They’re out and want the journal. Makes sense, because without it they weren’t able to find Paititi.”

“Then what are we going to do?”

Jack studied Drake’s face, noting the resolve in his gaze. “We need to put some serious distance between ourselves and them, because there’s not a doubt in my mind they’ll find us eventually if we let down our guard. Do you have a passport?”

“Sure. But it’s in my safe deposit box back home.”

“Well, hell. Let me think about that some. In the meantime, drop off the car, don’t call anyone or even hint at where you are, and maybe, just maybe, we’ll all get to live to see tomorrow.”

“How much did you tell Allie?”

“Enough. She’s wildly bright and knows me well, so she’s up to speed and understands we’ve got to take action. And she’s not a bad shot.”

“She’s got a gun?”

“Yup. I gave her one of the SIG Sauers. She’s had a lot of time on it, so she knows how to use it.” Jack smiled. “She was a tomboy growing up, and a girl in Texas learns how to shoot if she lives on a ranch.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Just don’t piss her off. She’s packing.”

Drake glanced at her sitting in the car. “Noted.”

Jack stopped at the truck and dropped his duffel in the bed next to the three gun cases he’d toted out earlier. He slipped a bulging backpack off his shoulder and slid it onto the passenger seat. “Drive the speed limit. Don’t attract attention. Get rid of the car, be pleasant to the counter clerk, and get out of there. We’re probably ahead of the game, but that won’t last forever. If we’re lucky, we just bought ourselves enough breathing room so that I can get you at least halfway ready before we take off. This isn’t the kind of job you want to learn on the fly if you can help it, because any mistakes once we’re in the field could cost you, or me, or Allie, our lives.”

Drake shook his head. “You’re really planning to let her come?”

“Try stopping her. I thought she was going to shoot me when I suggested she stay in the States. I’m serious. This, other than the murderous psychos stalking us, is her fantasy adventure.”

“Other than that.”

“Boy, you’re going to have hours to talk to her on the road, and you’re welcome to try to talk her out of it. My money’s on her.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“I haven’t lied to you yet. You got everything?”

“Yes.”

“All right, then. No point in dawdling. Get going. She’ll tail you to Austin.” He held out his hand.

Drake shook it, noting the hard calluses – they were a workingman’s hands. He climbed behind the wheel, twisted the key and put the car into reverse, and then executed a three-point turn and followed Jack’s truck out to the road.

Jack kept going past the on-ramp, bound for parts unknown, as Drake and Allie pulled onto the highway. Once up to speed, Drake checked every few minutes to make sure that Allie was still behind him. A vision of her flashing blue eyes and sultry looks filled his thoughts. He couldn’t figure her out – one minute she seemed friendly, and then the next she was cold and distant. But whatever was going on in her head, Drake couldn’t afford to spend much time worrying about it.

They were headed to a mystery destination that Jack had simply described as ‘someplace safe,’ with a truckload of guns and little else. Drake had already decided that he wasn’t going to tell Jack that he had the journal with him. That was his only ace in the hole, and he wasn’t going to give it up easily. The truth was that its actual whereabouts weren’t as important as the information in it, which he needed more time to pore over. His read had been cursory, and he hadn’t been as interested in the minutiae of his father’s reasoning about which patches of jungle were the most likely candidates as he had in the overall sense of the man he’d never known, and never would.

The rental clerk was sunny and efficient, and Drake was out of the office in less than five minutes and pacing to Allie’s waiting car. He’d paid cash, and the attendant had torn up the credit card form in front of him, so theoretically the trail ended at Austin airport, assuming the Russians could even access credit data. He’d done enough skip-tracing to know that many private investigation firms skirted the edges of the law, and that one could get banking records, phone records, and whatever one wanted if the money and motivation were sufficient. All it would take was one meeting, and within forty-eight hours his whole life would be laid out on someone’s table, his every financial move tracked by a system that frowned on cash.

Drake slipped into the passenger seat, noting that Allie smelled great, as he’d noticed she did when washing dishes. Her face looked as tranquil as an angel’s, with not a care in the world, for which he envied her no end.