Colchev grinned. “So?”
“So Kessler is dead. Your plan went up in smoke in Alice Springs.”
The grin vanished. “You’re the one who forced me into this action, Locke. If you hadn’t interfered with my truck bomb, none of us would be here right now. Don’t make me kill Mrs. Turia.”
A woman’s voice yelled out. “If you hurt her, I’ll cut your nuts off and feed them to you!”
“That must be Ms. McBride. I won’t hurt Mrs. Turia. She’s going to be my guide.”
“The hell I will,” Fay said. “Don’t listen to them, Jessica!”
Colchev took a handkerchief from his pocket and stuffed it in Fay’s mouth.
“Colchev!” Tyler yelled. “Let her go, and I’ll guarantee you safe passage off the island.”
“It’s too late for that, Locke.”
“We can’t stay here,” Zotkin said. “Somebody might have heard their gunshots. We have to kill them now.”
“Their position is too well-defended,” Colchev said. “We don’t have the manpower to outflank them.”
“Keep them distracted. I’ll crawl through the grass and shoot from over there.” He pointed to a rocky outcropping 150 yards away.
“There’s no time. We’re not even sure you’ll have a clean view of them. We’ll take out Locke’s car so he can’t follow us back to the airport. By the time he gets there, we’ll be long gone.”
“But even with his car disabled, it’s only four miles to the town. Locke will be able to call the mainland before we can get there. The police will intercept us as soon as we land in Chile.”
Colchev’s eyes fell on the case. There wasn’t enough xenobium for his ultimate goal, but it would be sufficient to power the Killswitch he had with him. He buried his head in his hands, trying to think of another solution, but he wracked his brain and nothing came. It was either use the Killswitch or risk total mission failure. At least it would give him a chance to test the weapon and verify that it worked.
Colchev glowered at Zotkin. “We’ll make sure he can’t call the mainland when he gets back to town. Put the Suzuki in neutral and then get in the police car.” He turned to Kiselow and pointed at Fay. “Keep her head toward the cliff so they won’t fire. I’ll drive.”
Shielded by the police car, Zotkin ran to the Suzuki and back. He and Kiselow climbed in the car with Colchev taking the wheel. He drove forward until the police car’s front bumper touched the back of the Suzuki’s. Colchev gunned the engine, pushing the vehicle toward the cliff.
When he got within four car-lengths of the drop-off, he wrenched the wheel to the right. The Suzuki’s momentum caused it to go sailing over the edge just as the guard popped up to see what was going on. The SUV smashed into him, taking him down to the rocks below.
Fay screamed through her gag, but the momentary appearance of two heads above the cliff edge meant that Tyler Locke and the granddaughter were still alive. Not that it mattered. Once Colchev’s car was gone, he was sure the Americans would head back to Hanga Roa on foot. At a fast trot the two of them could reach the outskirts of town in a little over thirty minutes.
They would arrive just in time to die.
THIRTY-SEVEN
When Grant climbed down to the bridge’s vehicle deck, only Morgan’s intervention kept twenty police officers from training their weapons on him. He jogged over to her as he eyed the train stopped halfway up the bridge. Officers swarmed over part of the track behind the last car. The suited man she was speaking to got a phone call and retreated to take it.
“Who was that?” Grant asked.
“Roger Abel. Australian federal agent.”
“Are we all playing nicely?”
“Grudgingly on their part. They know this is related to Pine Gap. They’re leading the investigation here, but they’re instructed to share any info they find.”
“Given that you’re not interrogating your runner, I’ll bet he didn’t come quietly.”
Morgan nodded at the rails. “Pulped by the commuter train.”
“Anything useful left over?”
She shook her head. “He’s spread across a hundred feet of track. The Aussies will collect the pieces. They’ll tell us if they come across anything pertinent, but I’m not holding my breath.”
“We might have more luck with my guy.”
“I saw him hit the ground. What happened? I told you not to kill him.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“My guy was an accident.”
“So was mine.”
“I heard that you shot him.”
“Yeah, but only in the leg. It was a good shot, too.”
“Let’s go look.”
“By the way, anyone hurt at the hotel?” Grant asked as they walked toward the center of the bridge.
“No. We got lucky. These guys were just trying to sow confusion so they could escape.”
“It almost worked.”
The agent caught up with them. “That was my director. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to,” Morgan said.
“Nicely handled,” Grant said.
“We’ve got two dead gunmen,” Abel said, “one of whom your partner shot before he fell to his death. I need to know whether we have more of them out there.”
“You don’t. Did your director tell you to cooperate with us?”
They reached the corpse sprawled in the middle of the right lane. Abel crossed his arms. “According to him, I retain custody of anything we find, but you can see it before it goes into evidence. I’m allowed to get your statements, but then you’re free to go.”
“Good. We need to examine anything found on this man.”
Abel scowled and then nodded at a uniformed officer carrying a plastic baggy. He handed the package to Morgan.
The baggy contained a wallet, a US passport, phone, car keys, and a scrap of paper with an address. She opened the wallet to find two hundred Australian dollars and nothing else.
“This is it?” Morgan said.
Abel nodded. “We’re running down the ID on the passport.”
“It’ll be fake, just like the ones on the bodies we found in the warehouse in Alice Springs.”
“Were these men responsible for the explosion there yesterday?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
The phone was still operational. Since the guy landed on his back, Grant assumed it had been in his front pocket.
Morgan scanned through the recent calls and text messages. They’d been wiped clean. Same for the contact list.
“This guy didn’t make or receive any calls?” Morgan said.
“It must have been erased remotely,” Grant said. “My company worked on similar technology. It’s a common feature on secure phones used by foreign intelligence services in case they’re caught or lose the phone. That’s why this one’s not password protected. The remote erasure took that out, too.”
Abel stared at the body. “He’s with the CIA?”
“We think he may be a Russian,” Morgan said.
She glanced at the piece of paper and then showed it to Grant. It said 22 Lic. Jose Lopez Portillo Ore.
“Does that mean anything to you?” she asked Grant.
