Finest Hour (14 page)

“Of course not. But…” She shook her head and growled. “I am not accustomed to allowing others to take advantage of me. In Israel, we are taught never to allow any transgression to go unpunished. It is a sign of weakness that leads to more violations.”

“That may be true, but this time we’re going to let it go.” He whistled, and Bowie hopped up into the bed.

Leila waited until Mason had climbed into the cab and closed his door before finally joining him.

As he started the engine, she said, “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure. We need to stay focused on what matters.”

“And this injustice doesn’t matter to you? To us?”

He leaned over and touched her cheek.

“Leila,” he said in a calm voice, “we’re on our way save the President of the United States from a band of ruthless killers. Having a few cans of food stolen by some clever, hungry kids is a loss I will gladly suffer.”

She closed her eyes and kissed his palm.

“Forgive me. My pride is getting in the way of my judgment.”

He chuckled. “It’s all right. Just remind me never to cross you.”

“Consider yourself warned,” she said with a playful smile.

Mason put the truck into drive and pulled back out onto the highway. Even as they drove away, he noticed Leila staring intently into her side mirror, watching for movement in the trees behind them. The fierce look in her eyes convinced him of one thing.

Leila Mizrahi was not a woman accustomed to forgiving much of anything.

Chapter 9  

The hike back to the gift shop was surprisingly uneventful, and by the time they arrived at the Hummer, Tanner was kicking himself for getting all worked up over nothing.

Samantha opened her door and climbed in.

“I guess he wasn’t too upset about our breaking into his hut.”

Tanner slid in next to her.

“That, or he was out hunting and never even knew we were there.”

“If he’s really a super-soldier, he was probably hiding in a tree, watching us.”

“No doubt with a knife clenched between his teeth,” Tanner said with a chuckle.

She turned to him with a puzzled look.

“Why would he have a knife in his mouth?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he lost the sheath.”

“How would he lose the sheath?”

“It could have fallen to the ground when he was running.” Even as he made his case, Tanner felt the inevitable knot-tying begin.

“But wouldn’t he pick it back up?”

“I guess.”

“Even if he did lose it, wouldn’t he just make another one?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.”

“Because of all the people we’ve ever met, a man who skins animals should never be without a sheath.”

“Got it,” he said. “No knife in the mouth.”

Tanner stuck the key in the ignition and gave it a turn. Nothing happened. He turned it off and tried again. The engine didn’t turn over. Even the electronics stayed dark.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Don’t know. Dead battery, maybe.”

He pulled the hood release lever and climbed back out of the Hummer. As soon as he lifted the hood, he saw the problem. A small plastic fuse box lay open, leaving little doubt as to why the car wouldn’t start.

Tanner stepped around to Samantha’s open window.

“What’s wrong?”

“He disabled the engine.”

“Disabled? How?”

“Pulled a few of the fuses.”

“It’s that easy to disable a car?”

He nodded.

“What do you think he wants?”

“Besides our faces?”

“Yeah, besides those.”

“Nothing good.”

She turned and looked out through the windshield at the dozen or so cars spread across the large parking lot. Having sat for nearly two months, all of them were covered in pollen and dirt.

“Do you think any of them still run?”

“With a little jump they should. See if there are any cables in the back.”

Samantha climbed into the backseat and dug through the cargo area of the Hummer. When she turned back around, she was straining to hold a tool bag with both hands.

“No cables, but I did find this.”

He took the heavy bag from her.

“If we have to, we’ll pull our battery and use it to jump another car. First, let’s see if one of them will start on its own.” Tanner retrieved his pack from the backseat and slipped it on.

“Do you think he’s the one who hung those people from the bridge?” she said, sliding on her own backpack.

“Probably.”

“Yeah,” she muttered, “it seems like something an evil soldier might do.”

“Met many evil soldiers, have you?”

“Only this one. What about you?”

“A few.”

“Any that you didn’t kill?”

“Nope.”

He started toward a handful of cars parked in the handicap area directly in front of the gift shop. When they were halfway across the lot, Samantha reached over and grabbed his arm.

“Tanner.”

When he looked up, there was a man standing in the Gift Shop’s doorway. Leatherface wasn’t particularly tall, but he had thick forearms and square shoulders. Taking advantage of his natural cover, he was standing behind the bloated corpse they had discovered earlier. His uniform consisted of military ACU trousers, a faded tan t-shirt, and a black bandana tied around his head like a skullcap. His only weapons appeared to be a multi-purpose ASEK knife hanging at his side and a compound bow clutched in both hands. A quiver of arrows poked up over his shoulder, but one was already nocked between his fingers.

“He looks upset,” she whispered.

It wasn’t the man’s looks that bothered Tanner; it was his bow. A good compound bow could shoot an arrow at over three hundred feet per second, plenty fast enough to drill a man before he knew what was what. And standing at only sixty yards, they were well within the range of a skilled archer.

“Move behind me,” he said.

“Why? You’re not arrow-proof either.”

“No, but if I go down, you can use my body as a shield.”

“Right, like cowboys did with their horses.” She patted him on the back as if assessing his ability to stop a broad-head arrow.

Without taking his eyes off the man, Tanner placed the tool bag on the ground and slid his backpack around to hang across his chest.

“Will that stop an arrow?” she asked.

“I hope I don’t have to find out.” He began to take slow deliberate steps backward. “Let’s see if he’ll let us get out of range.”

Leatherface answered the question by drawing the bow back.

“Go! Go! Go!” Tanner yelled, backpedaling toward the Hummer.

The arrow sliced through the air, striking the center of his backpack. The impact felt like a fastball from Nolan Ryan, and he stumbled back, tripping over Samantha and taking both of them to the ground.

“Are you okay?” she said, staring at the arrow poking into the air.

“I’m fine,” he growled.

Propping up on one elbow, he raised his shotgun and fired. Windows broke and wood splintered as pellets smashed against the store. At nearly seventy yards, it was a bit like flinging a bowl of chili at the wall. There was little chance that it would hit the desired target, but it could sure as hell make a mess of things.

Leatherface squatted behind the corpse and carefully pulled another arrow from his quiver.

“We’ve got to get out of range,” Tanner said, crab-walking backward while doing his best to cover Samantha. As soon as the arrow took flight, he flopped backward, squishing her against the hot asphalt. She mumbled something about the importance of managing one’s weight but made no effort to free herself.

The second arrow whistled by, missing the top of his head by mere inches.

Determined to be more than target practice, Tanner scrambled to his feet.

“All right, you sonofabitch,” he grunted. “You want me, you’ve got me.”

Before Samantha could stop him, he took off at a dead run toward the gift store. He held the shotgun in front of him, firing it one-handed as he ran. There was a time when Tanner could have run eighty yards in eight seconds. Even with the backpack, the shotgun, and a few extra pounds around the middle, he could still do it in ten. He figured that gave Leatherface three shots before a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound convict ran his ass over. The first shot would be essentially free. But as he drew closer, the other two would have considerable risk as buckshot tore up everything in the man’s vicinity.

To his surprise, Leatherface opted to take none of those shots. Instead, he immediately disappeared into the darkness of the store. The man’s retreat, however, didn’t cause Tanner to slow or change his course. Once a charge had begun, it was best to see it through. Regardless of what the enemy did or didn’t do, the goal remained the same—to close the gap as quickly as possible.

When Tanner arrived at the door, he hurdled over the bloated body and skidded to a stop, his boots sliding across a layer of coins and broken glass. He swept the shotgun left and right, ready to let loose on anything that moved.

Nothing did.

The gift shop was a huge multi-room store. In addition to the glass and coins, the floor was littered with stuffed animals, polished rocks, broken pottery, Indian artifacts, and hundreds upon hundreds of postcards.

He leaned forward and let his backpack fall to the floor. The man’s compound bow could still prove deadly in the crowded store, but pitting arrows against buckshot was not a winning strategy. Dropping to one knee, he carefully fed fresh shells into the belly of the shotgun. Letting him reload was Leatherface’s second mistake. His first had been picking a fight with the wrong man.

“Sergeant,” he called, trying to catch his breath, “if you’re thinking of running, now would be a good time. You’ve got my word, I won’t shoot.” He tightened his grip on the shotgun, ready to blow the man to hell and back.

No one answered.

Tanner stood up and scanned the room. There were dozens of places to hide, and avoiding a knife in the ribs was going to require a slow steady search. He stepped around an overturned table that had been stacked with t-shirts and hats. To his left was a series of small alcoves filled with knickknacks, picture frames, and CDs recorded by local artists. None struck him as a suitable place for a grown man to hide.

The opposite wall was lined with windows, most of them already broken out by vandals. He instinctively glanced back over his shoulder, fearing for a moment that Leatherface might have already gone out one of the windows in order to sneak up behind him.

He hadn’t, and probably wouldn’t, for two very good reasons. First, the glass on the floor would give away his advance as well as it did Tanner’s. And second, Samantha would shoot the bum in the back if he stepped foot out of the building.

Tanner advanced into the next room, ready for any kind of ambush the soldier might set. Every step was as uneventful as the one before it—no tripwires, no carefully set snares, no bear traps waiting to snap his foot off. Instead, he found only a collection of moccasins, plastic hatchets, toy dinosaurs, and all manner of stuffed animals. Along the back wall was a partially open door with a sign hanging above it:
Bathrooms.

He stepped forward and bumped the door open with his foot. On the other side was an empty hallway with a men’s bathroom on one side and a women’s on the other. Both doors were closed. He inched forward and tried the knob on the men’s door. It turned easily enough, and the door swung inward with a slight creak.

Other than a urinal, an open toilet stall, and a sink, the room was empty.

He crossed the hall and tried the women’s door.

Locked.

As Tanner debated on the best way to clear the room, a loud crash sounded from inside the room. He stepped back and leveled the shotgun. Apparently, even Delta Force weenies could be clumsy.

Buckshot might not penetrate the door particularly well, but it would most definitely blow the lock. An instant before he pulled the trigger, he detected a large shape dropping down from the ceiling behind him. There was nothing Tanner could do to stop the shotgun from firing, and by the time he brought it around, Leatherface was already on him.

The man came in, slashing the ASEK knife back and forth. Tanner instinctively pushed the shotgun sideways, parrying the blade with the stock of the weapon. Leatherface whipped it back, narrowly missing Tanner’s gut before he once again batted it away. Realizing that he couldn’t possibly block every strike, Tanner debated on whether to put a little distance between them or fight for the knife. Leatherface made the decision for him by lunging forward, the blade driving straight for his heart.

There simply wasn’t time to move his large frame out of the way, so Tanner did the only thing he could. He dropped the shotgun, parried the back of the knife hand with his left palm, and struck inside the man’s wrist with his right fist. Together, the two opposing strikes broke the man’s grip and sent the knife clattering down the short bathroom hallway. The technique couldn’t have been more perfectly timed, and Leatherface stood completely dumbfounded. One second the knife was there; the next it wasn’t.

Tanner’s mouth curled. “Learned that trick from an old aikido master.”

Leatherface snarled, popping a short jab, followed by a vicious hook. The jab caught Tanner in the nose, but he managed to duck the hook. As he straightened up, he sliced in with a short uppercut, but before it could land, Leatherface lunged forward with a headbutt. The blow was right out of Tanner’s playbook, and it sent him stumbling back.

Having taken two solid shots to the face, his nose was leaking blood like a cheap garden hose. Worse yet, it was starting to swell, something that he knew would eventually interfere with his vision. Hoping to turn the tables, he drove a knee up toward the man’s gut. Leatherface managed to step inside of it, taking most of the impact on the back of his thigh, painful but not debilitating. He swung a ridge hand up into Tanner’s groin, followed immediately by an elbow to the side of his head. Both made contact, and both hurt like hell.

Doing his best to ignore the pain, Tanner reached around and pulled the man’s head toward him. He had squeezed the life out of someone before, and he wasn’t above doing it again. But Leatherface would not be taken so easily. Before he could be drawn in, he drove his knuckles deep into Tanner’s throat while using his other hand to push away. It was the perfect defense against a hip throw, but that wasn’t what Tanner hand in mind. Instead, he stepped forward, hooked his foot around the inside of the man’s lead leg, and scooped it off the floor.