Ginna Gray - The Prime Objective

Both men were big and beefy. The taller of the two had a bull neck. The other one didn’t appear to have a neck at all. His head sat on his shoulders like a melon.

They stopped about ten feet shy of the fence to avoid the rampant snarl of thorny rose canes that waved in the breeze. Kate held her breath. Her heart beat so hard she was certain they would hear it.

“You see anybody?” the taller man asked.

“Naw.”

“Yeah, well, keep your eyes peeled. The boss said that both women may be here.”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. Only one bed’s been slept in.”

“That don’t mean nothing. They probably took turns standing watch. But one or both of ’um was here. An’ from the looks of the firepower in that house, they’re probably packing.”

“I’m telling you, they made us. By now they’re long gone. We shoulda drove right up, rushed the house and kicked in the damned door, like I wanted to, instead of sittin’ out there in the open casin’ the place.”

“An’ I told you, the boss wanted us to keep a low profile and not draw attention to ourselves.”

“Attention? From who? A bunch of cows? There ain’t no other houses around here.”

“Just ’cause you can’t see ’um don’t mean nothin’. There could be a dozen places hidden in these woods. Hell, those women could be hiding out there in the trees. Or in that barn. Why don’t you go take a look?”

“Me! Why me? I ain’t goin’ out there. There’s cattle out there. Maybe a bull.”

“You afraid of a bull?” the tall one questioned with a snicker.

“You ever seen one of them rodeo shows on TV? Bulls can run fast. I can’t. Even if you shoot the sucker it can still do some serious damage before it goes down. You want the barn checked, do it yourself.”

The taller man appeared to consider, then shook his head. “Naw. You’re probably right. They ain’t here.”

“Huh,” Melon-head grunted. “That’s what I thought.” He fished a cell phone out of the inside pocket of his coat. “I’ll call the boss an’ tell ’im we struck out.”

Relief left Kate weak.

“It’s me. Nobody here, boss. Somebody’s been here, but there’s no tellin’ who or when or if it was one or both of ’um. Anyway, whoever it was, they’re gone now. Could be they made us and took off out the back.” There was a pause, then, “Hell, yes, we was careful. As careful as we could be, but stakin’ out a place up here in shitkicker land ain’t easy. There ain’t no other people or cars or buildings around. How’re we suppose to blend in?”

Another pause followed, this one longer than the first. Finally the man bobbed his melon head and said, “You got it, boss. See you then.”

He disconnected and returned the cell phone to his coat pocket. “The boss said head back to Houston. He wants us at his place by three tomorrow afternoon. He’s got another job for us.”

“Yeah? Who’re we gonna pop this time?”

“You’re gonna love this.” A hard smile stretched Melon-head’s thick lips. “It’s the bigshot. We’re not ’spose to kill him. Just give him a little tune-up to keep him in line.”

“Great,” the taller man said. “This is one job I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of. C’mon, let’s go. All this rural crap gives me the willies. The sooner I get out of kicker country the better.”

Through the tangle of rose canes Kate and Jack watched the men walk away. The instant they disappeared around the back corner of the farmhouse, Kate made a move to stand, but Jack jerked her back down. “Be still.”

“Why? Shouldn’t we get out of here?” she whispered back. Before Jack could answer Kate felt something cold and wet touch the side of her neck.

“Eeee—”

“Jesus.” Jack slapped his hand over her mouth and cut her off midshriek, and the curious cow that had nudged her gave a startled bellow and skittered away a few feet.

The two men popped back around the corner of the house.

“You heard that, right?”

“Yeah. What the hell was it? It didn’t exactly sound human. Man, this place gives me the willies. All these thick woods and animals around.”

Cautious, guns raised, the men started walking back toward the pasture fence. Jack looked around, picked up a clod and sent it sailing in a sharp, side-handed pitch. The missile hit the cow in the backside, and the startled animal gave an indignant bawl and trotted away.

The men stopped walking. “Shit. It was just a cow,” Melon-head said. “You see, I told you there was cattle over there.”

“An’ I told you there was no point in hiding around the corner waiting around for those Mahaffey women to come out of hiding. Like I said, they ain’t here. So c’mon. Let’s get the hell outta here an’ head back to civilization.”

This time Kate remained motionless and silent beside Jack and waited while the men returned to their car. From where they were crouched they could not see the sedan, but after what seemed like an eternity they heard the car engine turn over and headlights came on out on the road. Jack kept a restraining hand on Kate’s arm while the car pulled forward and turned into the driveway, then reversed out again and headed back down the road toward the highway. Even then they stayed put until the taillights disappeared.

“Okay. Let’s go. And stay low,” he whispered finally, latching onto her hand.

Kate’s instinct was to run hell-for-leather in a beeline for the woods behind the barn, but Jack towed her across the pasture in short bursts, running between the milling cattle, from the fence to a stack of hay bales, to a watering trough, to the old farm truck parked next to the barn, to the cattle chute that led into the dipping vat. The sporadic, zig-zagging route confused Kate at first—until she realized that Jack was using the objects for cover. Which meant that he still wasn’t convinced that the men had given up.

That brought another wave of terror and a fresh burst of adrenaline that put wings on her feet.

Kate felt somewhat safer once they entered the trees, but Jack’s pace did not slow. By the time they reached his vehicle, about fifty feet inside the woods, she had a stitch in her side and her lungs were on fire.

In the darkness deep inside the woods she didn’t see the black SUV until she almost bumped into it. At once Kate knew that it was government property and probably specially equipped with the latest surveillance and espionage technology. Agency vehicles were nearly always black or gray and Jack always drove one when he was stateside.

“I’ll stow this with the rifles,” he said, taking the duffel bag from her.

A grateful nod was all Kate could manage. She scrambled into the front seat, put her head back and closed her eyes and gasped for breath, her heart pounding against her ribs.

She felt the vehicle rock when Jack climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. She had expected him to take off like a bat out of hell. Instead she felt the vehicle ease forward at a crawl.

Kate opened her eyes and sat up straight.

“Aren’t you going to turn on the headlights?”

“Not yet.”

“But…we saw those men drive away.”

“We saw someone drive away. There could have been only one of them in that car. The other one could have stayed behind, hoping you’d think they’d both gone and return to the house. That’s what I would’ve done.”

“Oh.” So much for feeling safe.

Perched on the edge of the seat, Kate gripped the dashboard with both hands and leaned forward, squinting to see through the darkness. The roads that crisscrossed the farm were nothing more than worn, one lane tracks, created by years of driving trucks and farm equipment from one pasture to another. The swath of woods through which they were driving angled across the property from the northeast to the southwest. Trees and forest undergrowth grew right to the edge of the path, in some places so close that low hanging branches scraped the top and sides of the SUV.