Jeff Abbott - Panic

Carrie knew he – they – were cold beyond belief. Worse than insane. They chose to murder without guilt.

Evan, please don’t be at this house. Don’t.

‘Find a back way,’ Jargo said. ‘Pull up the GPS map for me. Just because Evan called Carrie doesn’t mean he’s free of Gabriel. This could be a trap, Gabriel or the CIA pulling us in.’

A trap, with Evan laid as bait. She didn’t want to think about that. ‘Evan…’

‘Carrie, I know. You don’t want him hurt. We don’t either. I have my own reasons for wanting to be sure Evan is safe.’ The lie – she was sure it was a lie – sounded smooth on Jargo’s tongue.

Dezz pointed at the GPS screen. ‘There’s an access road a half mile from the front entrance of the ranch. We’ll go in that way.’

Get to Evan first, Carrie told herself. Find him and get him out of there before Dezz and Jargo kill him.

The hill rose from the back ranch road in a sharp incline, limestone breaking through the thin soil in heaves and cracks, thirsty cedars and small oaks competing on the scrubby land. Dezz took the lead, Carrie the middle. Jargo brought up the rear.

Dezz stopped so suddenly Carrie nearly walked into his back.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I heard a hiss.’ For the first time Carrie heard a tremble in Dezz’s voice.

‘Snakes are still hibernating now,’ Jargo said. ‘No need to be afraid, little boy.’ Annoyance and arrogance blended in his tone; stinging still, Carrie decided, from Dezz’s earlier disobedience.

‘I don’t like fucking snakes,’ Dezz said. He took a tentative step forward. Carrie went around him to take the lead, easing down through the trees. Dezz walked as if he were navigating a minefield, one cautious step after another.

‘Dezz, it’s okay.’ Carrie wished a rattlesnake would whip its head out from under a rock, sink its fangs into Dezz’s face or leg or butt. ‘I think you heard the wind in the branches.’

He didn’t move.

‘Dezz hates snakes. Reptiles. Anything that lives belly on the ground,’ Jargo said. ‘I should get him a cobra as a pet. Help him overcome his weakness.’

Dezz moaned in his throat.

‘Now you know how to punish him when he won’t listen to you,’ Carrie said to Jargo. ‘Put a copperhead in his bed.’

They heard a crash of metal, then another crash, a gunshot, a scream, the roar of an engine moving away from them.

Jargo grabbed Dezz’s arm and the three hurried down an incline, then climbed up another small hill. They ran past a stable and a limestone pool, heard the rev of a second engine, heard the distant crack of another gunshot, saw a bald man racing a motorcycle down the driveway.

‘Gabriel,’ Jargo said.

Dezz bolted, hurrying down the driveway, Jargo following. He called back over his shoulder, ‘Carrie, secure the house.’

She didn’t stop and Jargo raised a gun toward her and said, ‘Do what you’re told.’

Evan wasn’t on the motorcycle; he might be in the house. This is my chance. So she nodded and ran back toward the house.

Seeing Gabriel talking to a parked Suburban, Dezz hunkered down among the cedars. Jargo knelt next to him.

Evan, Dezz mouthed. He’s in the car. Jargo nodded. They waited through two minutes of talking.

Dezz couldn’t see where in the Suburban the dumbass was. But then he heard, from under the car, a clear yell: ‘I’m coming out…’ And Gabriel training his pistol at the SUV’s underside.

Dezz stood, aimed, and fired.

The bald man jerked, blood popped from his back, and he fell with a choked cry of agony.

‘Don’t kill Evan,’ Jargo whispered to Dezz. ‘Wound if you must. I prefer him alive to answer my questions.’ He gripped Dezz’s arm. ‘Clear?’

‘Totally.’

Jargo frowned. ‘You’ve not had a confidence-inspiring day.’

‘Benefit of the doubt, Daddy.’ Then Dezz yelled, ‘Freeze! FBI!’ and started down the hill. Jargo stood, glancing back at the house where Carrie had vanished. Silence. He hoped Gabriel worked alone. Traitor-baiters often did; they trusted no one. It was, Jargo knew, a sad and smart way to live. He drew back into the trees to watch. In case Evan came out shooting.

Gabriel crawled for his gun, face contorted in pain. Another bullet kicked up the limestone crush by his head and he stopped.

‘I told you to freeze,’ Evan heard a voice say. Not angry. Calm. A young voice. Almost amused. ‘It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a strongly worded suggestion.’

‘Oh, shit!’ Gabriel said. ‘Him… him…’

‘Evan? The cavalry’s arrived,’ the voice called.

‘Your house-’ Gabriel gasped, and a second bullet hit him, this time in the shoulder. Gabriel shrieked, twisted in the dirt with a stunned look on his face. Evan could see a man’s legs walking toward him.

Your house. Evan fought down the sudden surge of terror in his chest, his guts.

The voice called, ‘Be still now, Mr. Gabriel. You keep moving, you make me very nervous. I don’t like being nervous.’ Then the voice brightened. ‘Evan? You under the car or in it?’

Evan gave no answer. That voice. It was the voice from his parents’ kitchen. The voice of his mother’s murderer. Rage surged up in him.

‘Hey, Evan, the good guys are here. FBI. Come on out, please.’

Evan didn’t trust anyone who said he was FBI but who shot a wounded man.

‘All’s well, Evan. It’s safe now. If you’ve got a gun, toss it out, we don’t want any accidents.’

Gabriel groaned and sobbed.

‘Evan. I don’t know what this crazy old bastard told you, but you’re perfectly safe. I’m FBI. My name is Dezz Jargo and’ – a pause for emphasis – ‘I know your dad. He’s sick with worry about you. We tracked Mr. Gabriel here. I need you to come out. We’re gonna take you to your dad.’

Jargo. Evan imagined Jargo would be an older man. This guy looked too young to run a criminal ring.

‘Show me your credentials,’ Evan yelled.

‘Well, there you are!’ Dezz called kindly.

‘He’s a fucking liar,’ Gabriel yelled, and the walking legs delivered a sudden kick to Gabriel’s head. Blood and two front teeth flew free from the mouth, and Gabriel lay still. Evan couldn’t tell if he was still breathing.

‘Evan, come out now please,’ Dezz said. ‘For your own safety.’

Evan fired at Dezz’s feet.

Carrie moved from the garage to the kitchen. Silence, except for the television, tuned to CNN.

‘Evan?’ she called. ‘Evan, honey, it’s me. Carrie. Come out.’

Silence. A shiver took hold of her chest as she went into each room. Afraid she would find him dead.

He had called, he had to be free.

Unless it was a trap, and as soon as Evan called her, Gabriel killed him. She tried to think. Gabriel was ex-CIA. These files – she wasn’t sure what they contained that made Jargo sweat – were of interest to Gabriel because he’d gone freelance, or he’d turned traitor, or he’d gone back to work for the Agency. Smoke and mirrors, this world was nothing but smoke and mirrors and she could not see the truth of anything except Evan lying in the bed, saying, I love you.

She moved through the downstairs rooms quickly, efficiently. She hurried upstairs. The last time she had seen him he was lying in bed, asleep, perfectly at peace, and now he had endured all this hell. His mother dead, and she had been powerless to stop it or to protect Donna or him. His mother, strangled. Hers had been shot.

Please, Evan, be here, not down there with Dezz. Or be gone. Gone far away where I can’t find you.

She tore through each room, praying to find him first.

Dezz howled and jumped at the missed shot, but he didn’t retreat far. Instead he gave a twisted laugh. ‘Fucking funny way of saying thanks for the save,’ he called. ‘Gabriel was aiming for you when he was telling you to come out. I saved your ass.’