Sea of Crises (30 page)

Eyes trained on the spot where Maggie and the man had gone, Nate sensed movement to his left. His initial thought was that Buster was stirring, and he had the sudden panicked concern that the little dog would give him away. He turned and was shocked to find himself staring at the face of Matt. There was an incomprehensibly serene and relaxed expression on his brother’s face.

“How the hell do you do that?” Nate whispered.

Matt shrugged slightly and said in a return whisper, “What have we got?”

Nate tipped his head in the direction of the stand of trees and pointed with the barrel of his pistol. “One of them has Maggie. I heard him trying to talk to the others on his radio. It didn’t sound like he was getting anyone.”

Matt gave a slight grin. “He won’t.”

Nate felt a little better. But he was still on edge. “Now what?”

Still grinning, Matt said, “Watch this.”

Matt put both hands up to his mouth, cupping them, and turned his head to face down the lane, away from the cabin. Nate could see him take a deep breath. Then, from the spot where Matt seemed to be looking, Nate heard a faint voice. “You and me, Raen. And I know you’re in that stand of trees by the back of the cabin.”

Startled, Nate whispered, “Who’s that?”

Matt turned back and cocked an eyebrow. “Me.”

Nate was about to say something when movement caught his attention. Maggie came stumbling out of the trees and staggered awkwardly to the center of the clearing, where she stood looking about in a slightly bewildered fashion, hands still bound behind her back. There was what looked to be a canvas bag at her chest, hanging by a strap around her neck.

Then a man’s voice came from where Maggie stood, loud, but somewhat distorted. “I’ve still got you outnumbered, Marek.” The object hanging from Maggie’s neck, Nate realized, contained a communications device. The voice from the device’s speaker continued. “Here’s the deal. I’ll let your brothers live. I’ll even let this woman live. You have my word on it. But you’ll have to give yourself up. You do the math.”

Matt leaned toward Nate and said quietly, “He’s bluffing.”

“He’s bluffing,” Maggie called out. With a surprised look, Matt returned his attention to the clearing. Maggie was staring down the lane in the direction from which Matt’s voice had seemed to come a moment ago. “But he has reinforcements coming,” she shouted. “They said twenty-five minutes. That was about ten minutes ago.”

Matt tapped Nate’s arm and nodded toward Maggie. “I like her.”

Nate wasn’t sure why or how the next words out of his mouth came to be. He’d given them no thought. They just popped out, unbidden. “She’s taken,” he blurted.

Matt looked back at him with another grin. “Ok,” he said equably.

Feeling his face flush, Nate said, “I’ve got to go for her.” He started to gather himself.

“Easy there,” Matt said softly, his face now serious. “You’d probably be dead before you even got close. Though,” he added, looking thoughtful, “he might not shoot. He might just wait until you were near and blow that C4 charge in the satchel around her neck.”

Nate felt like a dagger had been driven into his heart. He stared out at the forlorn figure of Maggie, standing alone in the dimly lit clearing.

“He probably wouldn’t ignite it though,” Matt continued. “Better to shoot you and save the hostage to get to me. In fact,” he mused, “he’d probably only take out your legs. Make the bait even better. That’s what I would do.”

“Will you knock it off,” Nate hissed. “What are we going to do?”

Matt took a deep breath. “I’m going to go finish this.”

“What do I do?”

“You stay here. If I need you, I’ll call you.”

Nate started to object, then realized it was foolish. Matt knew what he was doing. A hell of a lot more than Nate did. He nodded.

With his own nod of acknowledgement, Matt rose slightly and, in a series of graceful movements, backed away. Then, without a sound, he was gone.

The silence was again complete. Nate watched Maggie. She stood stock still, the tension that gripped her body evident even from this distance in poor light. He wondered if she knew there were explosives hanging around her neck and realized she’d probably been told. He desperately wished he could do something to comfort her.

Buster stirred in his arm, but then settled back, apparently content, oblivious to what was happening.

Minutes passed. Nate strained to hear sounds. The breeze from earlier in the evening had died down, so even the trees were still.

Suddenly, the calm was again shattered by the sounds of gunfire. It came from the direction of the lake, on the opposite side of the cabin from where Nate was lying. He listened intently. There were definitely two different weapons being discharged. His instincts told him to move, and he was up and running without having given it further thought.

Maggie had turned in the direction of the shots. But she obviously heard the pounding of his feet, and she lurched around as he approached.

“Nate,” she cried out.

He reached out with his left hand, gripped the satchel at the point where it connected with one end of the strap and yanked upwards, allowing his momentum to carry him a couple steps beyond Maggie. The satchel and strap came up over Maggie’s head, and, as soon as it was clear, Nate planted his right foot and slung the bag away with a sidearm motion. It flew out of his hand, sailing in a lazy arc. The thing had traveled maybe twenty yards and was just starting its downward track when it suddenly disappeared in a blinding white blast.

The concussion caused Nate to stumble backwards, striking Maggie, and they both sprawled in the dirt.

Shaking his head to clear it, Nate turned to look at Maggie, but his attention was suddenly arrested by the sight of a figure rounding the far corner of the cabin. It was the man he’d seen earlier. Raen, he now knew. The man’s right arm was thrown across his chest, hand gripping his left shoulder and blood oozing between his fingers. In his left hand, which hung limply at his side, was a large pistol.

A venomous look crossed the man’s face. He released the grip on his shoulder and brought his right hand down to retrieve the gun from his apparently useless left hand.

Nate realized he still had the pistol Matt had given him in his own hand. He rose to one knee, lifted the weapon and pointed it, trying to keep it steady against the shakes that suddenly engulfed him. The other man’s mouth curled up in a grotesque smile.

“You don’t have the balls, Cartwright,” he said, taking his own gun from the hand hanging at his side and bringing it around. Nate thumbed the safety and pulled the trigger.

He hadn’t really aimed, and he’d been shaking badly, so he feared he’d missed. But a crimson stain suddenly appeared at the man’s crotch. The man looked down and almost absently said, “Well, that’s ironic.”

Then he refocused on Nate. Time seemed to slow. The man grimaced, apparently in pain, and he moved his gun hand slightly, lining up on Nate. There was motion at the man’s feet, and he suddenly jerked his leg. His left foot came up, along with Buster. The little dog had his jaws clamped around the man’s ankle. Nate, his gun pointed at the man’s chest, again pulled the trigger, and, at that moment, the sound of multiple weapons discharging shattered the night.

Nate was sure his bullet struck the man in the upper torso. But, incomprehensibly, the man’s forehead exploded, a mist spraying out in front of him. The man toppled forward, his knees striking the ground first, and he landed face down in the dirt, a few feet from Nate and Maggie. Behind the spot where the man had been standing, Nate could see the figure of Matt, poised at the corner of the cabin, a pistol held out in front of him in a two-handed grip.

Nate took frantic stock of his own body. He didn’t feel like he’d been hit, but he was suddenly unsure whether he might be in too much shock to know it. Then he realized his hip and elbow hurt from where they’d struck after falling to the ground. That had to be a good sign, he decided. His heart, which had been on emergency overdrive began to settle, and he found his breath again.

He looked quickly at Maggie. She was lying on her side, hands behind her back, staring up at him. There were no apparent wounds. He searched her face and saw no pain, only concern.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No,” she said, immediately. “You?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, Nate,” she said. He reached for her and pulled her up to him. She lay her head against his chest. “Oh, Nate,” she repeated.

Matt appeared behind Maggie and knelt down, moonlight flashing off the knife in his hand. “Let me help,” he said in an almost playful voice. A moment later, the bindings around her wrist having been cut, Maggie threw her own arms around Nate. They clung to one another, and Nate’s heart once again shifted into overdrive. This time, he didn’t mind.

“Peter,” Nate heard Matt say, “we could use that car now.” After a moment, he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching, and the Explorer pulled into the clearing. Nate reluctantly relaxed his grip on Maggie, shifted his weight, and, as he stood, helped her to her feet. She again fell against him and he happily wrapped his arms around her. The driver’s side door to the Explorer opened, and Peter climbed out.

“Yeah, I see how it is,” Peter said. “While I sit in the dark with a splitting headache, everyone else is having a good time.” He stopped when he saw the body of the man Nate and Matt had shot lying in the dirt. “Well maybe not everyone.” He was about to say more when he suddenly stopped and cocked his head.

Nate heard it too. A distant slapping sound.

Matt slammed shut the rear door to the Explorer and stepped back, something long and slender balanced on his shoulder. He looked at Nate. “Back into the woods.”

Alarmed, Nate pulled his arms from around Maggie. He could hear the thing clearly now. A helicopter, and it seemed to be headed in their direction.

Matt pointed to the spot where he and Nate had been previously. Nate took hold of Maggie’s hand and led her to the edge of the clearing, stepping into the cover of the trees. Peter and Matt followed.

Matt turned to face the clearing, and, from one of his pockets, he retrieved a small object that he inserted into the device he was carrying. The thump of the approaching helicopter quickly became louder, and then it was directly above them. Nate couldn’t see it in the darkness, but the downdraft of its rotors stirred the branches overhead.

Matt stepped quickly from the cover of the trees, putting his eye up against the rear of the sighting mechanism that jutted out at an angle from the front portion of the tube-like device on his shoulder. He pointed the front end up toward the helicopter, the longer end extending back and down almost straight to the ground. With a sudden whoosh of gas discharging behind Matt, an object jumped from the tube and rose quickly, a slight glow revealing its path.

There was a loud explosion, followed almost immediately by an even louder one, and suddenly they were all bathed in a harsh light as the helicopter above them was engulfed in flames. For an instant, Nate could see the thing, hovering about a hundred feet off the ground. Then it tipped forward and slipped away over the top of the cabin with an intense whining sound that abruptly stopped with a loud smack as it apparently struck the surface of the lake, and there was yet another explosion. The cabin was outlined for a moment by an intense backlit glow, which quickly dissipated, then disappeared altogether. With it went the sound, and the silence of the evening once again enveloped them, eerie in its sudden contrast.

Matt tossed the tube aside and looked back at them. “We need to get Patricia and Tim and leave before they realize we’ve completely rained on their parade.”

#

Krantz sat back and dropped the report on his desk. He reached up and gently massaged his temples with both hands.

Marek.

The man had just cost The Organization, what? He did the quick math. A few minutes earlier, one of the men injured in the Bar Harbor assault had died in the hospital in Portland. So the total body count was now up to - for God’s sake - twenty-five? Are you kidding me?

He took a deep breath. He’d never intended to open up this Pandora’s box. In fact, he still had a hard time understanding how it had happened. Marek had taken himself out. He was gone. Good riddance. And then? How stupid was that? He let out his breath.

He’d have to deal with it. Quickly. Certainly before the idiots in Washington got hold of it. What a nightmare.

His laptop pinged.

That was unusual.

He stared at the device lying on the desk, cover down. There were only three people in the world who could send him a message that would trigger the signal. One of them was in a coma, and the other two were not likely to attempt a communication at this time. He reached out and slowly lifted the top, revealing the screen. The familiar prompt greeted him. He put a finger over the “enter” button, then paused, a sudden, irrational sense of unease overtaking him. Then, with the certainty he’d always possessed, he pushed down on the button.

A brief message appeared, with no return or identifying information.

“I’m coming for you.”

15

Nate tapped lightly, and, after a short pause, Patricia opened the motel room door. She gave him a broad smile.

“Well, good morning Nate,” she said with an exaggerated cheeriness. “Are you here to call on Maggie?”

Hoping the flush that came to his cheeks didn’t show, Nate said, “I’m here to let
both
of you know that we’re pulling out in three minutes.”

At the rear of the motel room, Maggie stepped from behind the wall separating the bathroom from the rest of the small space, drawing Nate’s attention. She had an expectant look, and there was a radiant glow about her. At least that’s the way it appeared to Nate. After a moment, he reluctantly refocused on Patricia, who was chuckling.

“We’ll be out in two minutes,” Patricia said. Then, with a knowing look, she slowly closed the door.

Nate took a steadying breath, turned and almost ran into Matt, who had once again somehow managed to sidle up next to him without making a sound. Matt’s arms were held at his side, weighed down by a gym bag in one hand and a large duffle in the other. He had a smile on his face.