Bad Nights (25 page)

“His comms unit was on the fritz when we started the patrol.”

Wade repressed a curse. Damn incompetent men. Couldn't they get anything right? “Why wasn't I informed?” Trainer snapped.

“I was gonna meet him every twenty minutes.”

“Search back over his patrol route.”

“Yes, sir.”

Trainer quickened his pace. First thing he'd better do was go back and check the prisoner.

***

Morgan eyed the door as she continued stretching, trying to get her body into fighting shape. The good news was that she worked out regularly, which meant that the awkward posture on the bed hadn't been as debilitating as it could have been.

As she stretched, she eyed the rack of torture implements, trying to decide what she would use to defend herself. She'd dated a guy once who was into bullwhips, and she'd tried them out a few times. Maybe that was the way to go. Taking a large whip off the rack, she cracked it experimentally a few times, getting the feel of it, making it coil and snap. Then she laid it on the bed with the grip facing toward her.

Still working out the kinks in her body, she licked her dry lips, wishing there was something to drink in here. Or maybe that wouldn't be such a good idea. Maybe anything in here would be drugged.

She tested her balance, making sure she was steady on her feet. But she never stopped watching and listening. Trainer would be coming back, but he would think she was still tied up. That gave her an advantage. She hoped.

Knitting her fingers together, she raised her arms above her head, doing a couple of yoga stretches, then leaning forward to stretch her back. She had just started down to touch the floor with her hands when she heard the doorknob turn.

Out of time. But not out of luck, she hoped.

Leaping for the bed, she grabbed the bullwhip and pressed her shoulders against the wall behind the door where Trainer wouldn't see her immediately.

He stepped smartly into the room. She saw he was taking no chances. His gun was in his hand. As soon as he saw the empty bed, his eyes bugged out.

“What the hell? Where are you?” he shouted, turning in all directions as he tried to figure out where she had gone.

Morgan waited with her heart pounding until she had a clear shot at him. Teeth gritted, she lashed out with the whip, striking him on the hand.

He screamed in surprise and pain and dropped the weapon. As he zeroed in on her, his eyes turned murderous.

Jack, Shane, and Max crept quietly into position behind the militiamen, who had all their attention on the gate. One of them had a walking cast on his leg. He'd apparently gotten hurt, but that didn't excuse him from duty in an emergency.

Each of the Rockfort agents held two tranc guns. They held their fire until they were ten feet away—when one of the troops became aware of something behind him and started to turn.

Jack shot him with a tranquilizer dart, then took down the man next to him. Max and Shane fired at the same time, taking out more troops.

Six of the defenders went down immediately. Which meant they still had to deal with four armed and dangerous militiamen.

As their buddies slumped to the ground, two of them looked toward the gate in confusion, trying to figure out what had happened.

But two of them realized the attack had come from behind. Ducking for cover behind the fallen men, they turned and raised their rifles in firing position.

The Rockfort men's only option was to fire the weapons they'd liberated earlier. They dropped the remaining men at the gate, then whirled as they heard the sound of running feet. Three more men were converging on them, shooting as they ran. Jack, Shane, and Max returned fire, cutting down two of them. The third turned and ran.

“Shit,” Shane growled.

“It's Duffy. He may run for the hills. But keep a lookout for him. I'm going to look for Morgan.”

***

Trainer's expression was murderous as he grabbed the end of the whip and pulled it out of Morgan's hands. She was close enough to the rack of torture equipment to reach one of the implements on the wall. Her fingers closed around a mace, which she smacked into Trainer's forehead.

He kept coming after her until the sound of automatic weapon fire outside made him look toward the door.

“Shit.”

Leaving her where she stood, he turned and ran out of the room.

***

Wade ducked out of the building where he had been holding Morgan Rains. Somehow she'd gotten loose. Could she have had help? And from whom? Another traitor in his midst?

The thought made his skin crawl, but he told himself it couldn't be true. Somehow she'd freed herself, but now what was happening?

When he cautiously stuck his head out the door, he was greeted by eerie silence.

Then he saw three figures crossing the parade grounds. He thought it was three of his troops, and he was about to shout to them. Then he did a double take. It was the three Rockfort men, wearing uniforms that they must have stolen.

He pressed the button on his comms unit, calling for a report. Every man he tried failed to respond. The only answer he got was from Duffy—who said he was hiding from the attackers after seeing the men at the gate cut down.

“Go after them,” Trainer screamed, sure Duffy and the medics couldn't stop the invaders. But maybe they could hold them up.

Somehow while he'd been occupied with Rains, the Rockfort operatives had gotten the rest of his men. And now they were coming for the woman.

But Wade wasn't going to let them leave with her. He'd been cautious, letting his men precede him into danger. Now he was the only one who could stop the Rockfort bastards. At least he could do that.

He didn't think about his own death as he ducked around the mess hall and headed for the steel building where he kept his ultimate weapon.

***

Morgan struggled to assess the situation. The gunfire must be from Jack and his friends. And the militia returning fire. But what exactly was happening out there?

Trainer had left the door open, which gave Morgan the opportunity to step through without worrying about any explosives on the door.

She found herself in an anteroom that led to another door. It was also open, and she could see morning light pouring through.

Cautiously she stepped forward, and saw Jack running across an open area. His two friends were right behind him.

“Jack!”

He stopped in his tracks, a wealth of emotions crossing his face as he took in her appearance.

“Are you all right?” he shouted.

“Yes.”

“Thank God, but I've got to get Trainer,” he answered. “Before he kills us all.”

From the side of the building, someone started shooting. Morgan ducked down as the Rockfort men returned fire. After a moment, there were no answering shots.

Shane ran up to her. “It's not safe for you out here. Get back inside.”

Her throat clenched as she watched Jack heading for a steel structure with a barrel roof.

“He's in danger,” she whispered as he disappeared from sight.

“He'll be okay.”

She gave Shane a fierce look. “You don't
know
that. Give me a gun, and let me go with him.”

“Not a chance.” Shane's expression was just as fierce as hers. “If something happens to you, Jack…” He stopped and started again, a pleading look in his eyes. “He risked everything to come back here for you. Don't let it be for nothing.”

She swallowed hard because it was true. And not just for Jack. His two friends were risking just as much.

When Shane put a firm hand on her arm, she knew he was only trying to keep her safe. “Come back inside.”

She did as he asked, her ears tuned for the sound of gunfire, and her skin crawling as she stepped back into the torture chamber where Trainer had held her.

Shane followed her and stopped short as he took in the room. She watched his eyes go from the metal bed to the rack of implements and back again.

“Christ. This is where he had you?”

She nodded. “And it's probably where they were holding Jack.”

Shane looked back at her. “You need to get some clothes on.”

He unbuttoned his own shirt, shrugged out of it, and handed it to her. “Put this on.”

She did, grateful that she was no longer standing around in her underwear.

Shane turned and pointed his rifle toward the door. “We'll stay here until we hear from Jack.”

She nodded, praying that he would be okay.

“What happened? I mean, how did you get here?” she asked.

“We came in on glider planes and mostly used tranquilizer guns to put the militiamen out of commission. We'll be out of here before they wake up.”

“Trainer and I were fighting when we both heard gunfire.”

“You were fighting him? How did you get loose?”

“I used a screw head on the bed to saw through one of the ropes holding my arms.”

“Good girl!”

“Where did Jack go?”

“Trainer's got some kind of Doomsday device. Jack and Max have got to stop him from setting it off.”

She winced. “A bomb? He told me the door to this room was booby-trapped with a bomb.”

“Oh yeah? Let me just take a look at that,” Shane answered, stepping quickly out of the room again.

***

“He knows he's defeated, and he's planning to take us with him,” Jack said as he and Max arrived at the door to the steel building. It was locked.

“Shit. We've got to get inside.”

Both he and Max raised the weapons they had liberated from the militiamen and started firing at the lock, losing precious seconds before they were able to turn the mechanism to shreds.

Jack slammed the door open, and they both rushed into a room whose walls were filled with racks of armament. Parked around the floor were various vehicles including a steamroller, a troop carrier, a backhoe, and a front-end loader.

“I don't see him,” Max said, starting to search behind the vehicles. “You're sure he came in here?”

“I didn't see him go in, but he was heading this way.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “From the way he acted, I know there's something important about this place. It's not just for equipment storage.” In the dim light, he pointed to a smaller flat-roofed building at the end of the long room. “In there.”

They both ran to the small structure. Again, the door was locked. When Max raised his weapon, Jack shook his head. “No. We could set something off in there.”

Jack looked wildly around for something he could use to break through the walls. There were grenade and missile launchers, but again he hesitated to use firepower.

As he searched for another alternative, Jack zeroed in on the front-end loader. The keys were in the ignition, and he climbed into the cab, glad that Trainer had made all the troops work at moving earth around as part of their training.

“You might want to get out of the building. There's something deadly in there,” he called to Max as he worked the gears, lurching forward.

“I'm staying.”

Jack nodded and jerked the big machine forward, then moved more smoothly as he picked up the rhythm of working with the construction equipment. Lowering the scoop at the front, he rumbled forward and caught the bottom edge of the metal building, rocking it back and forth before slamming it back down.

He was gratified to hear a curse from inside. Trainer was in there all right. He'd thought he was safe from interference. Now he was finding out he wasn't quite so secure.

Jack manipulated the controls, shoving the scoop farther under the little building. Then he raised the mechanism, tipping the cube-shaped structure onto its side, exposing the bottom surface, which looked to be of thinner material than the top portion—probably because Trainer had never considered that the floor would be vulnerable.

As Jack backed up and moved forward again, he prayed that Trainer hadn't already unleashed something deadly. And if he had, would it be better to leave him in there with it?

Maybe, but there was no guarantee that it wouldn't get out.

Making a decision to keep going, he bashed at the exposed bottom of the building with the scoop, opening a wedge in the material, then maneuvered the teeth under the flooring and peeled back the skin.

When he'd made a two-foot opening, he jumped down from the machine, and he and Max moved cautiously forward, rifles at the ready.

“We've got you covered. Surrender,” Jack called out.

For answer, gunfire erupted from inside, and they both backed away.

Jack scrambled up on the construction equipment again and hooked the teeth of the scoop under the portion of the floor that he'd peeled back.

Lifting the cube, he slammed it into the concrete pad of the vaulted building. Then lifted it and did it again, hoping he was turning Trainer to jelly in there. As he kept up the assault, he heard some kind of noise from inside.

Once again he slammed the cube on the concrete, then climbed down. Still cautious, he and Max approached the cube, and Jack stuck the muzzle of his rifle inside. When Trainer didn't fire, Jack took a quick look into the cube.

Trainer was lying beside a long metal table that had tipped on its side. Small drawers from a large cabinet were scattered around the little room.

Trainer was clasping a metal box, his fingers frantically working at the catch. Jack leaped inside and yanked at the box. Trainer tried to hold on, but his grip finally gave way, and Jack fell backward with the box clutched to his chest.

Trainer scrambled for the gun that had been lying beside him. Raising the weapon, he took aim at the box. Before he could fire, Max put a bullet in the middle of his forehead, and he went still.

Jack looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.”

“What the hell is in there?”

Jack gingerly lifted the box and hefted it in his hand.

“It's not heavy.” He looked at the cover. “It's got a stamp from Fort Detrick on the top. You know—the place where they make and test the biological weapons.”

“Anthrax?”

“My guess is it's something worse.”

“What do we do with it?”

“Unfortunately, I think we need to take it with us. We don't want anyone opening this damn thing by mistake.”

Max handed over his knapsack, and Jack made sure the box was securely latched before shoving it into the bag. He also reached into Trainer's pocket and found his cell phone, which he put into his own pocket.

They were just heading for the door of the storage building when they were greeted by the sound of automatic weapons fire.

***

The man who called himself Arthur Cunningham lived on a very nice estate outside Frederick, Maryland. Close enough to D.C. to be near the action and far enough away to be out of the danger zone when Trainer pulled off his attack on the Capitol.

He was sitting in his comfortable family room, waiting by the phone, expecting to hear that the Rockfort Security problem was taken care of. He'd told them he wanted to stop Trainer. It was just the opposite, of course. He'd be prepared to rat out Jack Brandt at the crucial moment to keep him from stopping the D.C. attack.

Impatient for news, he slapped his right fist against his left palm. Maybe he never should have hired Rockfort. But he hadn't been able to stand the idea that he'd have no sure source of information on Trainer. Even though the man was the best there was at what he did, you could never entirely trust anyone.

He'd learned that the hard way.

He turned back to his computer and brought up one of his favorite Web sites. He monitored a number of bulletin boards and sites frequented by guys who were dedicated to overthrowing the government of the United States. He'd known most of them didn't have a chance in hell of carrying out their grand plans. But he'd seen something in Wade Trainer that he hadn't seen in the others.

The man had a divine sense of purpose, determination, and the ability to follow through. And he had guts. Don't forget about guts.

Arthur had met him at a convention, where they'd started talking. He'd become more and more excited, the more he'd learned about the man. But he took a couple of months before deciding that Trainer was the guy who could put a large infusion of cash to good use.

And Arthur was willing to use the money he'd inherited to avenge the death of his son. Well, a lot of it. He had to keep enough to live on in the style to which he'd always been accustomed.