The Protector (2003) (14 page)

"Yes. It's one of the few forms of exercise that--"

"Not any longer. You can't ever go near a golf course again. Escobar will find a way to learn your habits. If he somehow manages to figure out where you've moved, he'll arrange to have someone watch the golf courses, waiting for you to show up. On and on," Cavanaugh said. "Do you understand what we're trying to tell you?"

Prescott gulped the last of his wine and poured another full glass. "When you say 'a new life,' you mean it literally. I have to make a complete break from my past."

"With no exceptions," Cavanaugh emphasized. "The kind of clothes you like. The music you like. The food you like. You're going to have to change all of it. The books you like. Back at the warehouse, you had the collected poems of Robinson Jeffers and a couple of books about him. From now on, Jeffers is one author you can't ever be caught reading."

"You make it sound ..." Prescott's voice faltered. "Depressing."

"For many, it is, once the people who disappear finally understand the full implications," Duncan said. "You have to prepare yourself and confront the problem now. How much are you afraid of Escobar? Are you ready to do everything that's necessary, no matter how isolating, in order to keep him away from you?"

Prescott took another long swallow from his glass. "I'm tired of being afraid. Yes." His expression hardened. "I'm ready to do everything that's necessary."

"Good," Duncan said. "Tomorrow, we'll take you to meet Karen in Albany, get your photograph taken, and receive the documents for your new identity."

Tracy suddenly entered the room. "Maybe not."

"Why?" Duncan frowned.

"Three helicopters are headed this way."

Chapter 8.

"Helicopters?"

Duncan came to his feet at the same time Cavanaugh did. Followed by Chad and Roberto, they hurried with Tracy out of the kitchen, along a corridor, and into the control room.

Various television monitors were stacked in rows along a wall, receiving green-tinted night-vision images from cameras positioned around the helicopter and the bunker. But what the team focused its attention on was a radar screen, which showed three blips heading north, approaching the area.

Roberto studied them. "Yeah, the speed and the formation are consistent with helicopters."

"What's
happening?"
Prescott's strained voice asked behind them.

"We don't know yet," Cavanaugh said. "It might not be anything to concern us."

"The moment they appeared on the radar, heading up the Hudson," Tracy said, "it was obvious they were following the flight plan we filed at Teterboro."

"Coincidence?" Duncan asked.

"Maybe," Chad said. "There are a number of small airports up the Hudson, not to mention the one at Albany. They might land at one of them and go to a corporate retreat or something. Hell, maybe these are politicians flying to the state capital."

"Maybe," Tracy said. "And maybe not."

"What are we going to do?"

Prescott asked. No one turned from the radar.

"If it's Escobar's men trying to follow us," Roberto said, "the destination on the flight plan's too vague to bring them here. There are a lot of mountains and valleys. Even in daylight, those choppers could search forever and not find this place."

"Look." Tracy pointed toward the screen, where the three blips separated, moving west from the river.

"They're heading into the mountains," Chad said.

"Splitting up," Cavanaugh said, "saving time, searching one to a valley."

"But even with night-vision equipment, they're not going to see anything that tells them where we are," Roberto said. "For all they know, we landed at a farm and our helicopter's in a barn. It would take weeks for them to search all the farms in this area."

"Plus, if they flew here from Teterboro, they'll have to refuel in an hour or so," Cavanaugh said.

"Look." Tracy pointed again.

On the screen, the three blips moved back and forth over separate areas.

"Systematically searching," Duncan said.

"But they're doing it awfully fast," Cavanaugh said. "Even with night-vision equipment, they'd need to move slower to make sure they don't miss anything."

On the screen, the three blips shifted rapidly to three other areas.

"Holy . . . Nobody can do a visual check of a valley that fast, not even in daylight," Tracy said.

"Unless that's not how they're checking," Chad said.

"What do you mean?"

"Not visually."

The rest of the group abruptly understood what Chad meant. They swung to look at Prescott.

His pale face contrasted with his dark eyes, which were wide with apprehension as he, too, realized what was happening.

Cavanaugh stared back at the radar screen. "Infrared sensors?
Thermal
sensors?"

The blips moved swiftly to three other areas.

"Dies," Roberto said. "That explains it. They're looking for the helicopter's heat signature. The engine's cooled, but a thermal scanner makes metal look different from wood or dirt. They'll be able to distinguish the shape of the helicopter from the trees around it."

"Plus," Tracy said, "the landing pad'll still retain heat from the sunlight the concrete absorbed all day."

"But won't heat from the houses and farm equipment confuse them?" Prescott demanded.

"No," Duncan said. "A house or a truck would have an entirely different heat pattern. Besides, this valley's so rugged, there
aren't
any farms around here. The heat signature of the landing pad will be especially distinctive in the middle of a forest."

Prescott pushed through the group and stared at the radar. "How long before they get here?"

"At sufficient altitude, with magnifiers on the sensors, they can cover a lot of miles in a hurry. At the rate they're searching, they'll be here in ten minutes," Tracy said.

"This can't be," Duncan said.

"What do you mean, 'can't be'?"

Prescott sounded more panicked. "It's happening right in front of your eyes!" "Even with all his money, Escobar doesn't have the resources to suddenly get his hands on three helicopters with thermal sensors," Duncan said. "That's special equipment. You need to make plans to have it available, and Escobar had no reason to expect a helicopter chase."

"So where the hell did he get thermal sensors?" Chad asked. "It doesn't make sense. Unless ..."

"What?" Roberto asked.

"Those aren't Escobar's men." Duncan swung again toward Prescott. "Is there anybody else you're afraid of? Who else would be chasing you?"

"Nobody. If those helicopters aren't Escobar's, I have no idea whose they could be."

On the radar, the blips moved relentlessly to three other areas, proceeding closer to the center of the screen, where the bunker and the helicopter were situated.

"Whoever they are, they're sophisticated," Duncan said. "What
else
do they have in those choppers?"

"Maybe it's time to worry about those rockets we talked about earlier," Chad said.

"Moment of truth," Tracy said. "We have to decide,"

"What's she
talking about?"
Prescott asked.

"Stay or go," Tracy said. "If we stay, we don't know whether they can blow their way in here. But if we go--"

"We can't leave by helicopter," Roberto said. "If they've got heat sensors, we have to assume they also have radar. They'll know if our chopper takes off."

"But what if Mr. Prescott isn't in it?" Duncan asked. "What if you take off and act as a decoy?"

"They still might shoot me down," Roberto said.

"No," Cavanaugh said, "they won't shoot. Not if they think Prescott's aboard. They want him alive. When they chased me on the highway, they could have shot me, but they didn't. They didn't want the car to crash and kill Prescott. It's safe for you to distract them."

"The rest of us could leave in the Jeep." Chad referred to one of two vehicles in the bunker's adjacent underground garage.

"Both Jeeps," Tracy said. "We could use one of the cars as another decoy. Some of the helicopters will scan for other heat signatures and follow us. They'll have to separate and go in three directions. If we can get to the highway--the New York State Thruway is twenty miles to the east--there'll be so much traffic, they won't be able to decide which car they're hunting."

On the radar, the blips kept moving toward the center of the screen.

The group stared at Duncan.

"If we go, they won't shoot at us because they want Mr.

Prescott alive. If we stay, they'll have him trapped. Does that about sum it up?" Duncan asked.

The group kept staring at him.

"Move," Duncan said.

Chapter 9.

They didn't need to discuss what they had to do next. Although they continued to wear their pistols, they'd taken off their Kevlar vests. Now, with disciplined speed, they shifted from the control room and entered a room adjacent to it. There, in the bunker's arsenal, their vests were on a table.

"You'll need this." Cavanaugh put a vest on Prescott. "In case a bullet intended for one of us heads in the wrong direction."

After buckling on their vests, the team grabbed AR-15 assault rifles from a row of weapons that included shotguns and more handguns.

In theory, the AR-15, which was the civilian version of the military's M-16, could be fired only on a semiautomatic setting, one shot with each pull of the trigger, complying with federal gun laws. But these had been modified so they could be fully automatic, numerous rounds rapidly discharging with a single pull of the trigger. If law-enforcement officers were about to examine the weapons, the automatic function could be disabled by turning a small lever on the side and pulling the lever out; an interior spring-loaded plug would then slip into place, thus making the weapon legal while at the same time concealing that it had been tampered with.