department. They can get out roadblocks. We’ll be there in a minute.”
“Copy that,” Shel said. Then he broke the phone connection and walked back to his Jeep to get a pair of disposable cuffs. He knew Victor Gant wasn’t going to let this go.
›› 1423 Hours
As he tightened the cuffs on the unconscious biker’s hands, Shel’s cell phone rang. He answered without checking caller ID, figuring it was Will or one of the team.
Instead, it was Victor Gant.
“You got more lives than a cat, jarhead,” Gant snarled. “Thought I had you cold.”
Calmly Shel stood and signaled to Remy, who was already getting portable barricades from the local PD who were just then starting to arrive. Remy looked at him. Shel pointed at his phone and mouthed, Gant.
Understanding, Remy used his own phone to call NCIS headquarters and initiate a GPS lock on Gant’s phone.
“Well,” Shel drawled, “you got high marks for effort. And it only cost you five of your guys to find out that you weren’t good enough.”
Victor cursed.
Shel dragged the handcuffed biker to shelter under a 4x4 pickup. He checked the surroundings. It wouldn’t have surprised him to learn that Victor had another team in waiting or had doubled back.
“I’m still here,” Shel said. “Still standing. If you decide you want to take another run at me, I’ll be here waiting.”
Remy had taken up a support position too. But he’d switched his pistol out for the M4 assault rifle he carried as part of his traveling equipment. The commands he’d yelled earlier hadn’t kept the locals back, but they were staying back now that the rifle had come out into the open.
“I think I’m going to pass on that,” Victor said. “I’ve got things to do.”
“There’s a big score between you and me,” Shel said. “You didn’t strike me as the type of man to leave something like that standing.”
“I’m not,” Victor promised. “I’m purely an Old Testament kind of guy. If you know anything about me, you know that.”
“Your son shot me,” Shel said. “He took me on while looking me in the eyes. Takes a real man to do that.”
Victor laughed bitterly. “You sure like to push buttons, don’t you, boy?”
“If we went at it one-on-one, I’m just saying this thing might end up differently. You want me. I’m willing to meet you. Just name the time and place.” Shel glanced at Remy.
Remy spoke into his cell phone, waited a moment, then shook his head.
“How do I know you’d show up there?” Victor asked.
“I’ll give you my word,” Shel replied. But he knew he wouldn’t do that. There was no way Victor would meet him under such circumstances. Not willingly.
“Your word.” Victor snorted. “Your father teach you to stand by your word, jarhead?”
Shel felt a pit open up beneath him, and he knew he was playing with fire. His daddy’s life-especially what had gone on in Vietnam-was never spoken of.
“I knew your father,” Victor said. “Back in the jungle. Back when the government gave us an even harder war we couldn’t win.”
Shel steeled himself to make no rebuttal. The most onerous thing about this conversation was that Victor Gant knew things about Tyrel McHenry that Shel didn’t.
“Cat got your tongue, jarhead?” Victor taunted.
“I’ve been listening,” Shel said. “And I’ve decided that you ain’t fit to breathe my daddy’s name.”
“Is that right?” Victor laughed. “You got a mighty high opinion of your father.”
“He’s a good man.” Shel knew that was so, even though he couldn’t explain why his daddy had kept his sons-and the rest of the world-shoved away.
“Did he ever mention me?” Victor asked.
“No.”
“Probably not. He had plenty of reason not to.”
Shel wanted to shout the man down, and it took everything in him not to do that. If he angered Victor too much, the biker leader might break the phone connection. Instead, Shel glanced at Remy again.
After a brief conversation, Remy shook his head. He took his phone away from his ear and made a circular motion, mouthing, Keep going.
Shel knew the fact that Victor was in motion, running through overlapping cell-phone towers, was making the trace more difficult. Breathing out, Shel held on to his focus and tried his best to push all the anger away from him.
“Did your father ever tell you about the man he murdered?” Victor asked.
37
›› Mooney’s Tavern
›› Jacksonville, North Carolina
›› 1432 Hours
Shel exploded as the biker leader’s words slammed into him. “You’re a lying sack of-”
“Your father has a lot of secrets, jarhead,” Victor interrupted. He spoke slowly, calmly, mockingly. “I helped him bury the soldier he killed that night in Qui Nhon. And when we finished covering him over, your father prayed over that dead man and gave up on God in his next breath.”
Fear and anger throttled Shel. He tried to speak and couldn’t. His throat felt like it had swelled nearly shut. He forced himself to breathe, and even that was difficult.
“When you see your father again, maybe you ought to ask him about that,” Victor suggested. “Remind him that there ain’t no statute of limitations for murder. And that the Army still hangs war criminals.”
Get me a twenty, Shel thought desperately, looking again at Remy. He knew Estrella would be the one running the phone search. Find this jerk for me.
Remy shook his head.
“I’ll tell you something else,” Victor said, “if you people find me again, I’m going to tell everything I know to the newspapers. Maybe catch one of those guys at 60 Minutes or something. They like stories that have a history. Maybe you’ll get to see your father swing from a gallows.”
Cold anger replaced the heat inside Shel. When he spoke, his words were calm and measured. “You’ll never live to see that happen.”
Victor laughed. “Touched a nerve, did I? What is it, jarhead? You got some kind of hero worship about your old man? When I saw you, I figured you for the type. I hate to be the one to bring it up, but he didn’t come see you in the hospital, did he? Just stayed down there at that ranch in Texas. Is he too old to travel these days?”
Shel didn’t say anything.
“I’ll be seeing you, jarhead,” Victor said. “I ain’t gonna forget about this little dance we got going on between us. I ain’t the forgetting kind. I’m just gonna put it on a back burner for a while. Catch you on the flip-flop.”
Before Shel could say anything, the phone connection ended. He turned to Remy. “Tell me Estrella found him.”
Remy talked for a moment, then shook his head. “He was moving too fast. She got a general location. Jacksonville PD’s already covering it.”
“Where?”
Remy hesitated.
“Where?” Shel demanded. He didn’t know what he’d do if he caught up with Victor Gant. He knew he wasn’t truly in control of himself. But he couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
“South side,” Remy said. “When she lost the signal, Estrella said Gant was rolling south.”
Shel closed his phone and started for his Jeep.
