Cindy Gerard - Killing Time

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.