SecondWorld (19 page)

“It’s a good thing we’re not going up against Nazi moose, then,” Miller said. He took stock of their surroundings. They were on a small winding road that lacked signs or even a double yellow line. A forest of pine, white birch, and maples lined both sides of the road. The windows were open and the eighty-degree air smelled of earth and trees with a hint of something sweet. After breathing inside the rebreather for so long, the fragrant air felt like a dream to Miller. “Where are we?”

“You looked tired,” she said. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Miller rubbed his eyes. He probably could have slept for a few more hours, but felt a good deal better with the time he’d got. “Thanks.”

“We’re almost there. Maybe ten minutes out.”

This came as a surprise to Miller. “How did you find the way?”

She pointed to the iPhone propped up on the front dash cup holder. A map displayed a moving car and a series of winding roads surrounded by a flat green landscape. “Phone has GPS. Two more left turns and we’re there.”

Miller picked up the phone and scanned ahead on the map. He followed the blue trail marking the roads they would take. A small bridge crossing the far side of a lake lay a mile ahead. A left turn after that would take them along the side of the lake and another left onto Huber’s street, which looked like it crossed onto a small island. He zoomed in on the residence and found the house on the outer edge of the island, overlooking the lake.

Miller looked up and saw the bridge up ahead. It was big enough for just one car. A large lake emerged on the left of the bridge. A small pond lay to the right. Big houses with skylights, large decks, fire pits, and hammocks had been built along the shore. The water’s edge was lined with docks holding Jet Skis, pontoon boats, and an assortment of smaller canoes and paddle boats. As they passed over the small bridge Miller looked out over the lake and saw a streak of white. A boat cut across the surface pulling a large inner tube to which a bikini-clad girl clung.

The peaceful surroundings and summertime scene gave Miller hope that things could return to normal. And maybe they could stay here in New Hampshire where there was no real target of significance to worry about. With the populations of most major U.S. cities dwarfing that of the entire state of New Hampshire, he doubted it was high on anyone’s target list.

It was also the perfect place for an ex-Nazi to drop off the radar.

As they approached the left-hand turn just after the bridge, a large black SUV rounded a corner and headed casually toward them. Adler put on the blinker and waited for the beast on wheels to pass. Instead, it turned down the road before them.

“No one uses their turn signal anymore,” Adler grumbled.

But Miller didn’t hear her. He was focused on the SUV. Nothing about the vehicle stood out, really, but the men inside were a different story. He saw the driver through the front windshield as he steered the vehicle onto the street. He had a shaved head and pale skin. A man in the backseat was skinnier, but had the same close-cropped hair. Neither had the look of men about to hit the lake for a BBQ, fishing, or boating. Miller recognized the expression on their faces. He’d seen it on his fellow SEALs before every battle. They had the look of men about to spill blood. As they passed, he saw the silhouettes of two more men on the other side of the car. A hit squad if he ever saw one.

Miller tensed, hand on weapon, but the SUV kept on going, bouncing over a field of potholes before reaching the smooth pavement of the lake house association.
They’re not here for us,
he thought.
They’re here for Huber!

“What’s wrong?” Adler asked, looking down at the Glock clenched in Miller’s hand.

“Get us up behind the SUV. But not too close.”

“Why?”

Miller pointed toward the SUV. “There are at least four hit men on their way toward Huber and if we don’t find a way to get there first, or stop them, we’ll be interviewing a corpse.”

The blood drained from Adler’s face, but she nodded and steered onto the road. The SUV disappeared around a corner as the Mini Cooper struggled with the potholes. Free of the rough road, Adler punched the gas and shot forward. The road was still small, but the Cooper had plenty of room to maneuver and its low center of gravity made hugging turns a snap.

But they only made it around the first corner before everything fell apart. The SUV was parked on the side of the road. All four occupants were out, standing across the road, aiming an assortment of weapons straight at them.

“Steer left and get down!” Miller said, and jammed his foot on top of Adler’s. The car shot forward as a barrage of gunfire peppered the front of the car. Glass flew. Adler screamed. A sound like giant popcorn kernels popping filled the car. The first impact to shake the car was accompanied by two shouts of pain. Their assailants’ strategy had been sound, but they’d staged the ambush too close to the corner. There wasn’t enough time for them to fire
and
get out of the way.

The second impact loosed a shriek of metal on metal. They’d struck the guardrail Miller had seen a split second before ducking. He sat up when the shriek stopped. They’d cleared the turn and had a stand of trees between them and the shooters.

“You hit?” he asked Adler as she sat up.

“I don’t think so,” she said, then looked out the windshield. “My car…”

The front hood had large dents on either side from where they’d struck the two men. The windshield had been shredded by rounds as the shooters had focused on hitting flesh first instead of stopping the car. But when white steam began billowing from the front of the car, Miller knew the engine had taken a few high-caliber hits.

Miller glanced at the iPhone map. They had half a mile to cover before the turn for Huber’s street, and then a quarter mile to his house. “Gun it for as long as you can,” Miller said.

Adler did an impressive job keeping the Cooper moving fast and on the street. But the increasing amount of steam and ruined windshield made it nearly impossible to see. Before Miller could tell Adler to pull over, the engine coughed and died. They rolled to a stop just thirty feet from the left turn onto Huber’s road. The road dropped away on their left. The lake lapped against a rocky shore twenty feet down. To their right and directly ahead was nothing but forest.

“Get out!” Miller shouted as he snatched the iPhone, stuffed it in his pocket, and kicked open his door.

Outside the car, the roar of the approaching SUV echoed through the forest. Miller waved toward the road. “Run!”

Adler took off, running faster than Miller thought possible for a woman her size. Of course, when life hangs in the balance, most people can put a little extra pepper in their step. Miller, on the other hand, stood his ground and aimed back down the road. The SUV came thundering up over the rise and barreled toward him. A man leaned out of the passenger’s window and opened fire with a submachine gun. Rounds sliced through the small car, but couldn’t find Miller positioned behind the engine block and far-side tire.

As the shooter ducked away to reload, Miller took aim, held his breath, and squeezed off a series of rounds. The first four shots missed the target, shattering the headlight and pinging off the thick metal wheel well. But the fifth shot found nothing but tire. The effect was immediate and violent. The tire rapidly deflated under the SUV’s immense weight. The rim bit into and shredded the rubber. The vehicle tilted toward the lake and the driver, fearing a twenty-foot drop, overcompensated. The SUV turned hard to the right, the tire tore away, and the rim dug into the pavement.

The giant SUV launched into the air, spinning like a flicked coin. The gunman was launched from the open window like a rag doll from a cannon. He flew three hundred feet, snapping dry branches from pine trees before having his head removed by a thick maple limb. Blood sprayed from his body as it spiraled toward the earth and landed with a thud in the forest’s thick leaf litter.

The aerial arc of the SUV was much shorter, but no less dramatic as it flipped over the Mini Cooper. The roof of the SUV crushed the Cooper’s as it rolled and nearly struck Miller, but its momentum carried it forward. The SUV bounced off the road behind Miller and spun into the open air above the lake. The vehicle fell, and with a loud
whoosh,
struck the lake’s surface upside down. Water poured in through the open windows. Thirty seconds later, the SUV slid beneath the lapping waves.

Miller watched the SUV sink.

Adler ran up to him. “Holy shit!”

He just nodded and kept watching. After a minute, he felt satisfied that no one would be surfacing and checked the Glock’s clip. One round left. He slapped the clip back in and started jogging toward Huber’s road. “Let’s go.”

Adler followed, and had no trouble keeping pace. “You have nothing to say about what just happened?”

He looked at her. Her posture was perfect, her steps even. “You’re a runner?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Endurance?”

“I’ve run a few marathons.”

“Good,” he said, before picking up his pace. She fell in line and became too winded to talk. There was no way to know if a second crew would be sent out, or if they were already on the way. And they still needed to find Huber, get him someplace safe, and hopefully get some answers to a growing list of questions.

They crossed a small stone bridge onto the island. The road became dirt and skirted the shoreline. They followed the road and soon came to the one and only house—Huber’s.

The average-sized log home was in stellar condition and situated in the middle of a cleared section of land that ran down to the lake’s edge. Miller saw an empty dock and feared Huber might actually be out on the lake, which would complicate things. Further out on the water he saw two men fishing from a canoe, but neither looked like an old man.

After slowing his pace and catching his breath, Miller entered the paved, and empty, driveway. A stainless steel carport stood to the side of the driveway, but there was no way to see inside without making noise. Weapon in hand, Miller took the three steps up onto the farmer’s porch and silently stepped up to the red door. He gently took hold of the handle and turned. The door opened silently.

Adler stood next to him. “It’s unlocked?” she whispered.

The same thing had concerned Miller, too, but then he once again remembered they were in the woods of New Hampshire. He suspected they’d find most doors unlocked, especially if the residents were home.

Miller and Adler crept into the house. It smelled of pine and woodsmoke and the temperature felt ten degrees cooler than outside. The front hall, which held a coatrack and welcome mat, opened into a dining area on the left and a small kitchen on the right. The table was thick and rough, sporting two long benches like a picnic table. The marble kitchen counters were spotless and reflected sunlight streaming in through the window over the sink. Directly ahead of them was a long living room that ran the length of the house. Mounted buck busts lined the outside wall above a line of windows that provided a stunning view of the lake. And it was that view that nearly cost Adler her life.

She stepped into the living room, eyes on the window.

Two metallic clicks pricked Miller’s ears before he entered the room. “Elizabeth, freeze,” he said.

“What? Why?”

The voice, that of an old man, came from the corner of the room, behind Adler. “Because,
fräulein,
I’m still deciding whether or not I should kill you.”

28

Miller hung back in the kitchen, out of view. Adler stood rigid in the middle of the living room, her back to the man that had just threatened her life.

“I’ve been expecting you for some days now,” the man said.

“Expecting me?” Adler said.

“
Ja.
I knew you would come once I saw the shade effect over Miami. Though I must admit I am surprised you are a woman.”

“Huber,” Miller said.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” Huber warned.

Miller eased toward the living room. “I think you have us confused with someone else.”

“You take me for a fool?”

“I’m going to walk in with my back to you.” Miller eased into the living room. He held his gun out first and when he felt Huber could see it, he ejected the clip and dropped the weapon onto the floor. “I’m unarmed.”

After three slow steps, Miller stopped next to Adler, his arms raised. Huber could kill them both with two quick pulls of the trigger, but Miller had to risk it.

“I heard gunshots from the road,” Huber said. “Who did you kill?”

“Your neighbors are fine, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Miller said.

“They have kids,” Huber conceded.

“I can’t say the same for the four men that were coming to kill you,” Miller said.

“How do I know
you’re
not here to kill me?”

Because you’d already be dead,
Miller thought, but said, “If you’ll let me turn around, I can show you.”

“Slowly.”

Miller turned around, keeping his hands high and his motions slow. As he turned, Miller looked at the line of mounted deer busts. If they were Huber’s kills, the man knew how to shoot. Giving him a reason to pull the trigger would be a very bad idea.