02 Avalanche Pass (45 page)

“Get on your knees,” she ordered, and when he hesitated, the barrel of the .22 made a quick gesture downward. He sank to his knees in the hot sand.

“Don’t want you running off on me,” she said. Then she glanced at Paolo, still doubled forward over his wounded hand.

“You,” she said, and when he didn’t answer: “You with the broken wrist!” At that, he looked up at her. He saw the Ruger was still trained on Estevez, still rock-steady.

“I’ve got no argument with you,” she said quietly. “You can stay or go, it’s your choice. But if you stay, you’ll get what he gets.”

“Paolo!” Estevez’s voice cracked like a whip. “You know what happens to those who betray me!”

For a moment, Paolo hesitated. Then Lee smiled grimly.

“Hear that?” she said. “That’s the sound of a dead man making threats. Now stay or go. You choose.”

Paolo chose. Still hunched over and nursing his shattered wrist, he turned away and began to shamble up the beach, leaving Estevez behind.

“Paolo!” Estevez shouted after him, his face darkening as blood rushed to it. “You’ll pay for this! I swear it!”

“Shut up,” the woman said. He swung his gaze back on her now and noticed that her eyes were following Paolo as his stumbling figure moved further away. Estevez’s right hand began to steal behind his back to the Walther in his back pocket.

Seemingly intent on the deserting bodyguard, Lee felt a small glow of satisfaction as she saw the movement. She’d assumed Estevez would be armed. She’d hoped so. She didn’t like the idea of shooting him in cold blood—although if it came to that, she would do it. The Ruger was loose in her hand, held lightly. She waited until Estevez took a grip on the Walther and began to bring it around from behind his back.

He had the gun halfway leveled when the woman looked back at him. In the same instant, the barrel of the automatic in her hand swung, foreshortened in his gaze, and spat out the same spiteful double crack.

Compared to the Blackhawk .44 she normally carried, the .22 had virtually no recoil. And it was much lighter and easier to conceal. That was why she had chosen it. She was used to the gun. She kept one at home for varmint shooting, which was pretty much what she was doing now, she thought. The two bullets struck Estevez in the forehead, a fraction above the left eyebrow and barely half an inch apart. His body went limp instantly and he slumped forward like an empty bag, dead before his face hit the sand.

She looked down at him dispassionately. The Walther was close by his outflung hand, half-buried in the sand.

“I’m so glad you tried,” she said.

She turned and walked back the way she had come. Her hired runabout was beached around the next headland and on the brief
trip back to Pattaya Beach, she’d lose the Ruger overboard. It had come into the country in the diplomatic bag and now it was time to get rid of it. She’d picked it up when she first arrived, using the fake passport supplied by the FBI. That, she would burn once she was back home.

Later that night, she called an unlisted number in Virginia. The man who answered—Linus Benjamin’s replacement—spoke with a pleasant southern accent. She identified herself, using the name from the fake passport.

“This is Laura Templeton,” she said, giving him a second to recognize the significance of the name. “It’s done.” There was a slight pause and he replied.

“That was quick,” he sounded impressed. “Any problems?”

“None. It’s done and I’m going home.”

“Well, stay in touch, Laura. Maybe we could do business again,” he said.

Her reply was cold and uncompromising. “I don’t think so. I don’t make a habit of this sort of thing.”

She hung up, leaned back and sighed. Her bag was packed on the bed beside her and her plane was leaving in three hours. It was time to get back to Steamboat Springs.

And Jesse.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

John A. Flanagan, now a full-time author, is a former advertising and television writer. His adventure series for young adults, Ranger’s Apprentice, has spent more than a year on the
New York Times
bestseller list.

Background for the Jesse Parker series came from his many visits to the ski resorts of Colorado and Utah.
Storm Peak
was published in 2009.

John lives with his wife, Leonie, in Manly, Australia, on Sydney’s northern beaches.