Killing Time (One-Eyed Jacks) (31 page)

“Arrogant, immoral, egotistical, murdering bastard,” he swore in a voice that was so softly menacing, it would have frightened her if she hadn’t known him so well.

And she did know him, she realized as she encouraged him to lie lengthwise on the bed, then wrapped herself around his big, tense body. What she knew was that he had wanted to kill Lawson tonight. But he hadn’t. He’d sat there and taken it. Sat and listened as Lawson bragged to him about how he’d annihilated women and children as though they were lab rats, killed honorable men who had been as close to Mike as brothers.

One of those men had been her husband.

“His only regret,” Mike’s voice was weary as he lifted his arm and made a place for her next to him, “is that it’s harder to keep in the game these days.

“ ‘A smart man like you,’ I told him, pimping for more information, ‘I figure you can still find a way to keep on sticking it to ’em.’ ”

He was so smart, she thought. “I don’t imagine he was able to resist the opportunity to impress you even more.”

“Yeah—that would have been my bet, but he got quiet then. Maybe I pushed a little too hard, because all he said was, ‘You’re right. I am smarter than them. They’ll find out soon enough, too.’ Then his phone rang. Whatever it was, he stood abruptly and told me he was calling it a day. That was my cue to leave.

“I came this close to killing him,” he said after a long, heavy moment. “I’ve never felt that way in my
life. I signed up for the service to protect and defend. But tonight I wanted blood. Wanted it as much as I’ve ever wanted a drink. It would have been easy. I outweigh him by fifty, sixty pounds. A blow to the head. A kick to the throat. He’d be gone.”

“I want him dead, too,” she said. “Ramon is dead because of him. Your life was ruined because of him. But you were right to hold off.”

“There’s only one reason he’s not dead right now.”

“Lawson’s partner?”

He nodded. “When we find out who he was or is working with, we find out who put the hit out on you.”

“And we clear your name,” she pointed out, not wanting him to lose sight of that goal. “We have to get him. He can’t get by with what he did. What he’s still doing.”

“I’ve got to get into his office again. There’s got to be something there. Mr. Big’s name on a computer file, a scrap of paper. His picture. Lawson has to have an insurance file—something he can hold over this guy in case they ever have a falling-out. And if it’s not there, it’ll be where Lawson sleeps. I just know he’ll keep it close.

“And it’s going to get easier starting tomorrow,” he added, drawing her nearer. “He asked me to call my friends.”

She lifted her head. “Seriously? That was fast.”

“They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“You talked to Gabe?”

He nodded. “On Lawson’s private line.”

She hadn’t realized how much relief that news would give her. It would still be four against over one hundred if things took a bad turn, but knowing that their numbers were increasing with two of the most revered operatives in the black ops community made her breathe easier. For all of two seconds.

“Lawson’s put a lot of trust in you. Seems a little too easy, doesn’t it?”

“I told you I could bullshit with the best of ’em. Earlier in the day when Lawson admitted that most of the yahoos he calls soldiers are weak-minded, undisciplined, all-talk-and-no-action losers, I told him I could help him with that and do it in triple time if I could call in my buddies. He liked the idea of new blood. So he gave me the green light. Not only that, he said he’d cut me in on a little action if I could cut that time down to less than a week.”

She lifted up on an elbow. “What’s his hurry?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it had something to do with that phone call. But I get the sense that something important is about to happen. Bucky’s been making noises about a big deal going down soon. A really big deal. I’ll get it out of him tomorrow. In the meantime, I got a bead on Lawson’s private quarters.”

“You saw them?”

“No. But I hung back in the shadows after I left his office and spotted him heading south.”

“I didn’t see any buildings on the aerial maps in that area.”

“Maybe it doesn’t show on the map. Maybe the blood-sucking vampire lives in a cave like a bat.”

“I don’t remember anything about caves on the topography map, either.”

“We’ve got to figure it out fast. I’ve got a bad feeling we’re running out of time.”

He tensed suddenly. “You hear that?”

Yeah. She heard it. The distant, then not so distant grinding gears, air brakes, and roaring diesel engines.

They jumped out of bed and raced to the window.

Then they stared in stunned silence as a line of vehicles slowly rolled by.

A pickup led the way for three semi tractors, each one pulling a long box trailer. Another pickup flanked the procession.

Dumbfounded, Eva turned to Mike. “What’s a convoy of semis doing in the middle of nowhere?”

“Only one way to find out. Get your sleuthing shoes on,
chica
.”

They waited five minutes, then, dressed in black, headed out into the dark and cut around to the back of the cabin. Eva had the Taurus tucked in her waistband and a Maglite in the pocket of her cargo pants. Mike opted for the M-4 in case they ran into a shitstorm. The mini NV binoculars were tucked in a pocket on the leg of his cargo pants. They hadn’t gotten two steps when he grabbed Eva’s wrist and dragged her back into the shadows.

“Patrol,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her ear.

She froze, and like him, measured her breath, barely blinked, and hugged the cabin until the guards passed not ten yards away from them.

“I don’t like this,” he whispered.

“What you don’t like is me going with you. I’ll be fine.”

She was right. He didn’t like it that she was out here. What he liked even less was the surprise Lawson had dumped on him tonight, about Ramon being on Lawson’s payroll. A major detail that Mike had left
out when he’d filled Eva in. If she ever found out, it would kill her.

“It’s clear.” Her voice snapped him back. “Let’s go.”

With him in the lead, they headed out at a crouching run, ducking behind buildings, fences, trucks, whatever they could find for cover. While they couldn’t track the semis’ route, they’d figured out the path they had to take, based on the layout of the camp, and the direction the trucks were going when they rolled by. They were headed for the northern border of the meadow.

It was slow, treacherous going. They had to stop several times again and wait for patrols—which were double what he’d run into last night—to pass. Finally they reached the shooting range, cleared the earth berms built up behind the targets to stop the bullets, and headed out into the woods.

Using the edge of the tree line for cover, they worked their way slowly toward the northernmost quadrant . . . and stopped abruptly when they heard an idling motor and the murmur of voices in the distance.

Mike glanced at Eva. She nodded. She’d heard it, too. Slowing the pace and making sure they stayed concealed in the trees, they moved as quietly as possible toward the sound. A light materialized out of the dark. Then two. Headlights. Then several more lights. Flashlights. A diesel engine revved. Gears ground. Men shouted.

When they were within thirty yards of the activity,
Mike dropped to his belly and dug out the binoculars. Eva was right beside him—a good soldier, alert, light on her feet, sensing instinctively what he wanted her to do.

“I count five . . . make that six men on the ground,” he whispered, adjusting the focus on the binocs.

“What are they doing?”

“Best guess? They’re directing the semi drivers to back up the trailers. Let’s get a little closer.”

Under the cover of the gunning engines as the powerful diesels’ gears engaged, they belly crawled, digging with their elbows and knees until they cut the distance in half.

Mike refocused the binoculars and scanned the area of activity. “What the hell?”

“What?” Beside him, Eva sounded anxious.

“They’re gone. The semis. They’ve fucking disappeared.”

He raised the glasses again, scanned slowly this time. All he saw were men milling around the pickups, talking, slamming tailgates, stowing gear. He couldn’t see behind the smaller trucks but there was a flurry of activity, then everyone piled in and they took off.

After the taillights disappeared back toward the encampment, Mike checked things out one more time. Satisfied that there was no one left behind, he pushed to his feet.

“Let’s go check it out.”

•   •   •

“I thought I was kidding about the vampire cave.” When he was satisfied that no one had been left behind on guard duty, Mike shined the Maglite through inch-thick iron bars that had been welded in six-inch squares to form two huge gates, padlocked together. Tire tracks in the dirt disappeared under the locked gate. “Wait. It’s not a cave after all. See those old timbers? This is a mine shaft. We need to get inside.”

He handed her the light and had her shine it on the padlock so he could check it out. “I don’t remember anything about picking locks on your bio,” he said, after inspecting it. “Don’t suppose that’s a hidden talent.”

“Sorry. Way above my pay grade. Can we break it?”

“Not without letting them know someone was here.”

He held out his hand and she handed back the light. He shined the beam around the perimeter of the opening, which was approximately twelve feet wide and fifteen feet high.

“Our lucky day.” Because the opening of the shaft was slightly rounded and the top of the iron gates were level, there was a gap about three feet wide and eighteen inches high at the apex. “It’ll be tight but I think I can get through it. You first.”

He watched as she easily scaled the grillwork, holding the light so she could see where she was going. Once she made it to the top, she kept low, swung one leg over, then the other, and a few seconds
later, hit the ground on the inside of the mine shaft.

He passed the Maglite through the bars and she returned the favor as he climbed to the top of the gate.

“Can you make it through?”

He grunted as he worked his body through the narrow opening. “Kind of like trying to squeeze a watermelon through a keyhole, but yeah. I’m good.”

“Let’s see what we’ve got.” She handed back the light when his feet hit the dirt beside hers.

He shined the flashlight over the shored-up beams of the long horizontal shaft, then down to the very clear tire tracks that led to the three semis. The trucks were parked end to end down the length of the long, narrow tunnel that Mike guessed stretched a good one hundred feet. “So . . . the trucks arrive after dark and get tucked out of sight. Somebody doesn’t want anybody seeing these bad boys.”

“ ‘Anybody’ as in satellite surveillance?”

“That, too,” he agreed and shined the light along the first trailer. “This is a refrigerated box. They all are,” he added after trotting back and checking the other trailers.

“So why aren’t there any generators running?”

“Good question.”

They climbed up into the cab of the first semi, and Mike dug through the glove box until he found the manifest. “Check this out.” He handed her the papers. “This truck’s out of Canada and is supposedly carrying meat. I’m betting they all have the same papers.”

“Let’s go look in the back.”

They found keys for the trailer with the manifest. After making quick work of the lock, he swung open one of the rear doors.

“I’ll give you a boot up.”

Eva placed her foot in his cupped hands, grabbed onto the other door, and he lifted her up and inside. Seconds later he was right beside her, shining the flashlight into the dark.

Hundreds of boxes, about three feet by two feet, were stacked on pallets to the ceiling. All of them had
PORK
and an expiration date stamped on the outside.

“In a pig’s eye,” Mike said.

“Seriously?”

“Sorry. I never back away from a pun.”

He pulled out his Leatherman, flipped open the blade, and very carefully cut the tape on one of the boxes.

“Holy shit.”

“AK-74s?” Eva peeled back the plastic that was covering the rifles to get a better look.

“Yeah. About the same caliber as the M-16, but more controllable at full automatic than its older brother, the AK-47. Someone plans to start a war.” He shined the light up and down the inside of the trailer. “Let’s say this trailer’s around fifty feet long.”

“Sounds right.”

“Okay. Figure twenty-five pallets per trailer. But let’s say at one point there was some legal cargo to make this work—just in case they got stopped at the border.”

Eva saw where he was going. “So they place some pork loins here in the rear, making it look like the whole cargo was meat. Those boxes that actually contained the pork are probably in the back of the pickups that headed back to camp.”

Mike nodded slowly. “That would work. A constant stream of trucks drive back and forth between the States and Canada. There wouldn’t be a reason in the world to single one out and question if it was legit. Walks like, talks like, looks like refrigerated cargo, so anyone searching the trailer would hurry because the driver would be on their case about all that expensive meat spoiling.