Mark Gimenez - The Abduction

They had last talked three months ago, just before Pete deployed on an extended mission; it was so secret he couldn’t tell her where he was going. Jan had called everyone she knew at HRT, finally waking up Ray, an HRT operator and Pete’s buddy. Their first date had been a double date with Ray and another female trainee. Jan’s heart had skipped a beat when Ray finally said Pete was in Idaho. After pleading that it was an emergency, Ray had given her Pete’s satellite phone number.

FBI Special Agent Jan Jorgenson wasn’t going to let anyone sacrifice Gracie.

A low intermittent buzz interrupted Ben’s thoughts.

“My satellite phone,” Agent O’Brien said. “In my bag. It’s my team leader. If I don’t answer it, they’ll send in the cavalry.”

Ben nodded. He pulled the phone out of O’Brien’s bag and handed it to him. O’Brien used both hands to put the phone to his ear and answered: “O’Brien.”

“Pete?” Jan Jorgenson said.

“Who’s this?”

“Jan.”

“Jan, how’d you get this number?”

“From Ray.”

“Why?”

“Are you in Bonners Ferry?”

“Yeah.”

“On a mountain called Red Ridge?”

“Yeah.”

“Pete, this is important. An ex-Army colonel named Ben Brice and his son are-”

“Right here.”

“They are?”

“Yeah. I’m sort of, uh, taking orders from the colonel now, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I do. Let me speak to Colonel Brice.”

There was a momentary silence. Then: “Brice.”

“Colonel, this is Agent Jorgenson, FBI.”

“I remember you.”

“Gracie’s alive.”

“I know.”

“She’s on that mountain.”

“I know that, too.”

“The abductor is Charles Woodrow Walker- Junior- the major’s son.”

The colonel was silent.

“Colonel?”

“I didn’t know that. So the son is taking his father’s revenge?”

“Yes, sir, but it’s not about the war. They’re plotting to assassinate President McCoy. When McCoy was FBI director ten years ago, Walker was apprehended. His men took a federal prosecutor hostage. McCoy released Walker in exchange for her.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Yes, sir. Then McCoy ordered Walker killed. We got him in Mexico. Now the son wants the president dead.”

“But why’d they take Gracie?”

Static on the line.

“Colonel, we’re losing the satellite connection, so listen, this is important. The director is flying in as we speak. That mountain will be crawling with FBI agents in a few hours. He’ll sacrifice Gracie to get those men.”

“He won’t have the chance.”

More static.

“Colonel?”

“I’m here.”

“O’Brien is a good man and a good shot. Let him help you.”

“Why’d they take Gracie?”

“Colonel, one more thing: don’t take prisoners. Kill those men, all of them, and burn everything to the ground.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. For Gracie.”

The satellite connection terminated.

Ben tossed the phone into Agent O’Brien’s bag.

“You were an Army colonel?” O’Brien asked.

Ben nodded.

“What’d Jan say?”

“They’re plotting to kill the president.”

“I knew it was something big.”

“And that your director would sacrifice Gracie to get them.”

“Son of a bitch.” O’Brien shook his head. “Colonel, let me help. I can shoot.”

“So I hear.” Ben studied Agent O’Brien’s eyes and saw something, the same something people once saw in Ben Brice’s eyes. “You’d be disobeying orders.”

“Colonel, I joined the FBI to save people like Gracie.”

Ben unsheathed his knife and cut the duct tape binding O’Brien’s hands.

“Take up a position west of the camp and stay there.” He turned to his son and handed him the. 45. “John, you stay here. Detonate when you see my flare then hunker down. When this blows, it’s gonna rain rocks.” He looked his son in the eye. “No matter what happens, John, don’t leave this position, understood?”

John nodded.

Elizabeth Brice stepped inside the sanctuary of the Catholic church. She walked up the center aisle with Sam and Kate, past wooden pews filled with the faithful for the 7:30 Mass. Her eyes were drawn to the crucifix draped in a white shroud high above the altar. Palm branches and white Easter lilies decorated the altar. Stained glass windows on the walls depicted the stations of the cross.

Heads turned to her; children pointed; parents offered silent pity. They arrived at a half-occupied pew near the front; Sam and Kate entered the pew first. Elizabeth sat by the aisle. She had come back for Easter Sunday Mass. She had come to pray to God and for Ben Brice.

Only God and Ben Brice could save her daughter now.

Ben must kill these men to save Gracie.

He had never enjoyed the killing. But killing was what he knew.

He had taken his sniping position, perched behind a fallen tree, on which he had steadied his rifle. He was no more than three hundred meters out; he had a clear line of sight to each cabin. Plan A was simple: put a bullet in the head of each man as he exited his cabin. With the suppressor and a little luck, he could take out the entire camp before they had their morning coffee.

Ben put his eye to the scope and surveyed the camp.

The processional music commenced. An altar girl carrying the Easter candle walked up the center aisle past Elizabeth. Behind her followed two more altar girls with their candles mounted on long holders then an altar boy carrying the crucifix on a standard, a deacon carrying a Bible overhead, and finally Father Randy. Their eyes met as he passed.

A light came on in one cabin. Ben put the scope on that cabin. A figure silhouetted by the light appeared in the optic. Three hundred meters out and no wind, it would be an easy shot. The cabin door opened and a man stepped into the doorway; he yawned and stretched and presented a perfect shot opportunity, conveniently backlit. Ben adjusted the ballistic cam on the ART until the horizontal stadia lines framed the target’s torso and head; he centered the cross hairs on the target’s head. He had not put the scope on a human being in over thirty years. Killing another human being was something you lived with the rest of your life. He had lived with his killing back then, and he would live with his killing today. Ben took a deep breath, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

The man fell.

A good sniper always maintains surveillance on the downed target because his comrades will often check the body or remove weapons. That is a mistake. A mistake another man in the cabin was making. But he quickly pulled back out of sight, stuck a sidearm out the door, and fired two rounds into the air-the discharge echoed around the mountains like a pinball. Damn! Ben kept the scope on the spot where the second man’s head would appear when he peeked out the door, as Ben knew he would.

When he did, Ben squeezed the trigger again.

Two down, nine to go.

Jacko didn’t jump when heard the two gunshots. He smiled. Ben Brice had come to him, sooner than he had figured. Ben Brice was on this mountain, and he would die on this mountain. Jack Odell Smith would take the major’s revenge. His destiny was at hand.

He sat up in bed and lit a cigarette.

Proceed to Plan B. Ben fired the flare gun into the air with his left hand then quickly returned to his shooting position. A man appeared at the door of another cabin. The bullet hit him in the forehead.