Safe and Sound (15 page)

DeGroot nodded his head toward the wooded slope.

“Up there,” he said.

“In the woods?” Clancy said.

DeGroot nodded. “And don’t think of going back on our deal,” he said. “There’s half a dozen trails up that mountain. Only I know the right one. Oh, if we’re going to be walking in the woods together,” he said, “I’ll need these cuffs off.” Leonard and Swierczynski looked at each other, then at Clancy.

“Fine,” Clancy said. “But if you’re going to be taking my people into the woods in the dark, I’m putting two more agents on you.” DeGroot just nodded.

“I want to go,” Marie said. “He’s my son. He’ll be terrified.”

Clancy shook his head. “No. No way. I’m not putting a civilian into this situation. The last time that happened, things went cockeyed.”

I know, Marie thought.

“Get Guthrie and Starr to go with you,” Clancy was telling the two agents. He looked at DeGroot. “And if he tries to escape,” Clancy said, “shoot him.”

***

It was only about a half mile from the overlook to the peak, but the trail wove back and forth through the trees, winding its way up slowly so that the tourists wouldn’t have to climb the steep slope directly. DeGroot picked his way carefully along the trail. Two of the agents, Leonard and Swierczynski, flanked him on either side. The beams of their flashlights bobbed and wavered as they tried to keep up on the uneven ground in their dress shoes. Two more, who he supposed were Starr and Guthrie, followed behind. He could hear them breathing hard.

“How much further?” grunted one of the agents beside him. It was Leonard, the big kaffir.

“You’ve been behind the desk too long, boet,” DeGroot said. “You’re out of shape. It’s just a bit further.” He heard the sound of running water ahead. “There’s a footbridge that goes over that stream ahead,” he warned them. “It’s narrow. We’ll have to go single file.” The ground leveled out slightly as they approached the stream. Leonard took up a position ahead, with Swierczynski behind. Starr and Guthrie trailed. The crude wooden bridge appeared in the beam of the lights.

“This bridge is old,” DeGroot said. “It’s shaky. Best we cross it one at a time.” Leonard looked at him suspiciously for a moment. “Okay,” he said finally, “I’ll go first.”

“Sure,” DeGroot said.

Leonard turned to the other agents. “Watch him,” he said. He turned and started across. His shoes clattered on the worn planking.

“Mind your step,” DeGroot called out. “There’s some boards missing.” Leonard reached the end of the bridge and stepped off onto the trail. He turned and pinned DeGroot in the beam of the flashlight. “Now you,” he said.

The stream was invisible in the darkness, but DeGroot could hear it chuckling over the rocks beneath. As he reached the end of the bridge, his foot caught in the gap where a plank had once been. He stumbled forward and landed full-length on the ground with a loud exhalation of breath. He lay there for a moment, groaning. He could hear footsteps clattering across the bridge. Leonard’s heavy tread approached from the other direction.

DeGroot rolled to one side of the trail. He groped for a moment in the leaves until he found what he was looking for, what he had left there when he prepared this ground earlier. It was a plastic grip with a trigger assembly, like a pistol without receiver or barrel. Without looking up, he squeezed the trigger.

A massive roar split the night and the darkness turned to momentary daylight. The three agents bunched together on the bridge didn’t have time to scream as the pair of claymore mines DeGroot had placed on his side of the bridge scythed them down. The hundreds of ball bearings embedded in the front of the mines blasted every living body in the kill zone into pulp. The bridge itself disappeared in a rain of splinters. DeGroot sprang upward, toward where he had last heard Leonard. The kaffir was standing there, his face slack in shock from the blast and carnage that had shattered the nighttime silence. DeGroot caught him in the throat with a vicious punch that fractured his windpipe. The man went down, gagging for the breath he’d never take again. DeGroot aimed a killing blow at the FBI agent’s temple and the gagging stopped. DeGroot picked up the flashlight and looked around. He located Leonard’s weapon on the ground by the trail and picked it up. He checked Leonard’s body again to determine whether a killing shot would be necessary. It wasn’t. He rifled through the agent’s coat for spare ammo clips. He found two and pocketed them. He looked back down the trail. There were more agents down there, he knew, and they’d be on their way soon. He reached into the bushes where he’d hidden the trigger for the mines. He came up in a moment with a small two-way radio he had bought at Radio Shack. He turned the device on. The low hiss of static came from the tiny speaker.

DeGroot keyed the mike.

***

Keller,” Clancy said, “Lately it seems like every time some kind of major shit starts in this state, you’re in the middle of it. You got any explanation for that?”

Keller shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.” He looked over to where a group of FBI agents were clustered around DeGroot’s vehicle. “Any sign of the boy?”

Clancy shook his head. “This DeGroot asshole says he’s got him stashed up on the mountain. Booby-trapped.”

“Who is that guy, anyway?” Keller said.

“Some kind of mercenary,” Clancy said. “He was mixed up with what ever Lundgren, Powell, and Riggio were doing.”

Clancy looked sour. “We don’t know, and even if we did, do you think we’d tell—” He stopped short as something that sounded like a clap of thunder ruptured the night. It came from somewhere in the woods.

“Shit.” Clancy yelled. He turned and bolted toward the Taurus where Alyssa Fedder sat. “Get the girl out of here! Now!”

Wilcox looked as if he was going to make an argument of it, but then he looked at the girl. He started the engine. The tires spun briefly in the gravel before they caught and the car wheeled quickly onto the blacktop. It was gone in seconds. Marie was sprinting for the tree line. Keller jumped out of the Suburban and ran after her. “Get back here!” Clancy bellowed. Marie ignored him. As Keller ran past him, Clancy grabbed his arm. The momentum of Keller’s rush spun him around.
Clancy grabbed him in a bear hug. “Oh, no you don’t,” he grunted. “We’re not going to—”

At that moment, DeGroot’s car exploded as the other two-way radio, rigged as a detonator, set off the plastic explosive in the trunk. The agents standing by the car were killed outright. Clancy and Keller were knocked to the ground by the blast with Clancy landing hard on top of Keller. They lay there stunned for a few moments.

“Clancy,” Keller grunted. “Get off me.” There was no response. Keller pushed, and Clancy’s limp body slid off of his. Keller got to his feet painfully. He looked at Clancy.

The FBI man lay on his side on the ground, his eyes open and unseeing. A jagged piece of metal protruded from the middle of his back. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Keller looked around for Marie. She was across the road, by the trailhead. She was on her hands and knees, slowly getting up. She looked at Keller for a moment, then staggered toward the woods.

“Marie,” Keller shouted. “Wait!” She ignored him and disappeared into the gloom. Keller swore under his breath. He ran to his car. His shotgun sat propped up in its rack on the driver’s side. He pulled the weapon out and racked the slide as he headed after Marie.

“Hey!” a voice came from one of the other vehicles. “Hey!”

Keller looked over. The two men who had brought Alyssa Fedder to the overlook were raising their heads above the windowsill of one of the Suburbans. All of the windows on one side had been blown out. The two men’s faces were streaked
with blood, but the cuts on their faces looked minor. Shattered glass glistened like gems on their skin and in their hair.

“Get us out of these handcuffs,” the blond man who had taken Alyssa from the car said. “We’ll help.”

“Right,” Keller said. He continued across the parking lot.

“You’re up against a pro,” the dark-haired one called. “You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

That stopped him. He looked at the two men for a moment, then jogged over to the black Suburban. “Where’s the handcuff key?” he said.

The blond man nodded toward the other side of the car. “The guy who was standing right over there had it,” he said. “Before the car went up.”

Keller rounded the big truck. One of the FBI agents, a balding sandy-haired man, was sitting propped up against the side of the vehicle. He was semiconscious, his eyes foggy.

“Give me the keys to those cuffs,” Keller demanded.

The man looked up at him uncomprehendingly. “What?” he said, his voice slurred. He raised his hand to his ear and smiled apologetically. “Sorry,” he said in a too-loud voice. “Can’t hear.”

“Damn it,” Keller muttered. He bent down and started going through the agent’s coat pockets. “Hey,” the man protested weakly. “Hey—” He reached up with one hand.

Keller brushed the hand away easily. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I need that key.” His hand brushed across the small hunk of metal and he pulled it out.

“I think I need a doctor,” the agent said calmly. “I don’t feel so good.” Then his eyes glazed and he slumped over. Keller bent down and felt for a pulse. Then he opened the car door and began unlocking the dark-haired man’s cuffs.

“Is the guy all right?” the man said.

“He’s dead,” Keller said. The dark-haired man slid out of the vehicle and knelt on the ground by the FBI man as Keller uncuffed the other man.

“C’mon, Mike,” the blond man said. “We haven’t got time.”

The dark-haired man sighed and stood up. “Probably couldn’t have done anything anyway,” he said in a detached voice. “Overpressure like that, his insides probably look like strawberry jam.” He looked at Keller and extended a hand. “Mike Riggio,” he said. “My partner here’s Bobby Powell.”

“Jack Keller,” Keller said. “We need to move. Marie’s alone up there.”

Powell and Riggio looked at each other. “That’s not real bright,” Powell said.

Keller began jogging for the trees. “Your pal said he has her kid up there,” he called back. “She’s going after him.”

“Hold up,” Riggio said. “We need to get a couple of—”

“You catch up,” Keller snapped back. “I’ve waited long enough.” He turned and headed across the road toward the woods where the blackness loomed like a wall. He barely broke stride as he reached the trailhead. Once under the shadows of the trees, however, he had to stop. He couldn’t see two feet in front of him. After a few moments, he began to be able to make out vague shapes, more like slight differences in shades of black than actual objects. He shut his eyes and listened. A slight breeze was blowing up from the valley and the leaves of the hardwoods
rustled nervously. The breeze died slightly and Keller could dimly make out Marie’s voice, somewhere up the slope. She was calling Ben’s name. He opened his eyes again. He could at least make out the trail well enough to walk. He started up the rough path. As he reached the first curve in the trail, he heard a slight sound behind him. He began to turn toward the sound. A hand was clapped across his mouth and he felt the point of a blade against the base of his spine.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Marie stopped in the center of the trail, panting with exertion. She bent over and put her hands on her thighs, trying to catch her breath. The bullet scar on her abdomen throbbed. I’m not going to make it, she thought. That bastard. That bastard’s going to kill my son. If he hasn’t done it already. The thought nearly drove her to her knees. Part of her wanted to curl up on the ground in a ball and lie there until the mountain wore away. No, another part of her spoke up, he may be alive. He may be hurt. If he is, he needs me. He’ll be so scared…She straightened up, took a deep, shuddering breath. The air was cool and dry, and the fog of fatigue and despair in her seemed to part slightly. She cupped her hands on either side of her mouth and called. “Ben!” The darkness seemed to swallow the words. She stopped and strained her ears, listening for any reply. None came back to her.

She gritted her teeth and headed up the trail. When it seemed that she was about to run out of breath again, she caught a faint whiff of something acrid in the air. There was a dim red glimmer in the trees ahead. Something was on fire. She broke into a run.

In a moment, she reached the edge of a streambed. The slope here leveled off, and the trail cut straight across the face of the mountain. The smell was stronger here, strong enough for her to identify. Cordite. Cordite and burned meat. There were half a dozen small blazes among the trees, burning like campfires. Their incongruous light cast a glow over the clearing. There were a few boards and a post where a bridge had once crossed the stream. As she stopped running, she stumbled
over an object in the trail, something soft and squishy. She looked down and a sob stuck in her throat. It was a human arm, torn off at the shoulder. A gold wedding band on one finger reflected the firelight. She looked up. She could make out shapes on the ground. Slowly, she walked to the lip of the streambed and took in the other shapes lying below. The water flowed, implacable and uncaring, over a couple of them. All of the bodies were torn and Bloodied. All were larger than a child’s body. He’s not here, she thought. He’s not here. She cupped her hands around her mouth again. “BEN!” she called out.

***