Conspiracy Game

military men. We can’t tell the good guys from the bad. For all we know, Ken, some of them are soldiers thinking they’re doing a job their commander sent them on. We have no idea what they’ve been told.”

“Whitney isn’t going to chance letting someone else acquire you. These are his men. He may have gotten military equipment using his clearances, and no doubt someone, an admiral, a general, maybe the senator I pulled out of the Congo, is helping him, but these are definitely his men. Don’t do anything stupid, Briony, like try to leave. It wouldn’t be heroic-it would be the dumbest thing you could do. Jack would come after you. You know him now. He’s not going to let you go.”

“I’m going to get you both killed.”

“Have a little faith, woman. And think about my nephews. I’ll be damned if they’re raised in a laboratory.”

Briony turned away from him, into the deeper forest, hurrying along the faint animal trail in the direction Ken indicated, but her mind was working furiously. She had come to them with nothing. Jack had even insisted she get rid of her clothes. She touched her earlobes and felt the rubies-not her mother’s diamonds. Everything had been left behind. So how were they tracking her so easily?

“Shift to your right. I want you to walk along the boulders. The original mining camp is still here along with the original cabin. We’ve never actually done any mining, but we went through it to make certain it was safe and it’s a good place for you to wait for us. You can guard the entrance; no one can sneak up on you from behind, and anyone trying to come in is going to be a large target. I’ll get rid of the tracks leading to the mine and make a few branching off from the trail so anyone tracking us will head in the wrong direction. The stream winds through the property along here for a good four miles.”

Briony glanced at him sharply.

Ken sent her a reassuring smile. “I like to cover all of the bases. If by some miracle Whitney’s soldiers get lucky, you need a route out of here.”

“If you’re not coming back to get me, I’ll be looking for you,” Briony said. “I mean it, Ken. I could help.”

“You can help by staying put so we don’t have to worry about you.”

Where the hell are you? You’d think this was a tea party.

As a matter of fact, Briony and I were just pouring a cup. You can handle it, Jack. I’m still a little sleepy.

“Just up ahead is the shack. See the bushes just to your right, Briony? Behind them is the entrance to the mine. I’ll check it just to be certain.” He handed her a gun and several clips. “Just don’t shoot me.” Ken slid the pack to the ground and motioned her to stand aside.

Briony watched him disappear into the thick shrubbery. All around her leaves were turning red and gold. Deep colors of vibrant green carpeted the ground and adorned the trees towering above her. A gentle breeze brought the first lights of day streaking across the sky. It was beautiful-breathtaking, hardly a day for anyone to die.

Both Ken and Jack exuded confidence and spilled it over to her. She was afraid, but it wasn’t the heart- pounding, gut-wrenching fear she normally experienced. Both of the Nortons were men who knew themselves and their capabilities-and were ready to do whatever was necessary-but most of all they were utterly calm in a crisis. And more than all of that-she didn’t experience a single consequence of witnessing violence. There was no pain stabbing through her head, making her so ill she could barely breathe. With Jack and Ken close by, she could handle even a full-scale assault.

Ken returned to lead her into a clearing, past a shack to the mine itself. It was old, but solid. Briony stood just inside the entrance. “If I have to go back into it to hide, how do I find my way out?”

“It’s not a huge labyrinth like a lot of mines. It has two tunnels. Either has an exit. The left tunnel is your best bet; it comes out in heavy wood, so more cover. You’re good, hon. One of us will come for you. If we don’t warn you ahead of time, shoot anything coming your way.” He handed her the pack with her clothes. “I’ve got to get rid of the tracks and go help my idiot of a brother. He might go psycho on us and I’d have a hell of a mess to clean up.”

Briony nodded, managing a small smile. “Stay safe, Ken.”

Ken leaned in to hug her, in a clumsy attempt to reassure her, and then shouldered his rifle and sprinted back toward the house.

Jack was surrounded, trying to pick off the soldiers one by one, but he was pinned down by the second enhanced soldier. Ken hurried as he wiped out the tracks leading from the mine back to the tunnel. I’m on my way. Don’t shoot me.

Go up, Ken. Get the son of a bitch off my back. Whitney can’t afford to lose too many of his enhanced soldiers. He might be able to enhance some of them physically, but you have to start with some psychic ability before you can strengthen it.

I’ve got a few soldiers between us.

Even as he sent the thought to Jack, a soldier rose up in front of him, covered in leaves and twigs, a handgun spouting flame. Ken whipped his body into a spin, lashing out with his foot, managing to avoid getting shot, but the knife in the soldier’s other hand sent a streak of fire racing down his thigh. He caught the soldier on the hip and sent him staggering back. The gun went off a second time, the bullet zipping through the trees, shaving leaves from the branches.

Ken sprang into the air, cartwheeling over the soldier’s head to avoid the next shot. He banked off a tree and kicked the soldier hard in the head, driving the toe of his boot into the back of the man’s head. He dropped like a brick, and Ken was on him, quickly snapping the neck and letting the body fall to the ground. He removed weapons, ammunition, and a tiny radio, and once more began to follow the stream back toward the house, using much more caution. Obviously the ground soldiers had spread out and were circling the house.

I’m approaching from the east.

About damn time. Jack inched his way to get a better angle on one of the soldiers moving through the yard toward the east. He had to cover Ken’s approach, but the enhanced soldier wasn’t giving him anything to work with.

The air around him shimmered, turned opaque. He felt the impact in both his chest and head, as if something squeezed the air out of his body. The enhanced soldier was making his move, forming a shield around Jack.

Jack rolled, bringing up his rifle, but there was no target. He wasn’t certain a bullet could penetrate the psychic shield. Only two men he knew could do such a thing. Kadan Montague and Jesse Calhoun. Jesse worked with the SEALs team and Kadan belonged to the other team-a mixture of several of the special forces under General Rainer. Had either the admiral or the general set them up? Someone was working with Whitney and they had to find out whom, or sooner or later both teams were going to be set up to be murdered. Now that Whitney was acquiring his own army, all of them had to be expendable.

“So you’re Jack Norton. I hear about you all the time. Elite. The best. You and your brother are so unstoppable. No one can shoot you from the ground. Let’s see how good you really are. If you want me, put the rifle down and let’s have at it.”

Jack was silent, trying to get an exact location from the sound of the voice. “You’re looking for a reputation.”

“I have a reputation. You’re the older, flawed model.”

“You mean I can think for myself.” Jack tried to inch his way to the edge of the roof, but a bullet slammed into the shingles beside his boot, warning him to stay still.

“I’m going to kill you,” the other man said, confidence in his voice.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Will Gunthrie. You remember me. You put a gun to my head when we were out in the jungle in Colombia. You didn’t like my attitude.”

Jack had him now, the memory bringing bile into his throat. The kid was a straight-up killer, liked inflicting pain. It was more than a job; he wanted to hurt. He hadn’t gone for a straight kill, but had left two guards with slashes in their bellies, trying to put their guts back inside. Men like Gunthrie sickened Jack.

“You’ve been practicing with your knife, haven’t you, Willie?” Jack asked softly. “I took it away from you and stuck a gun in your mouth and you pissed your pants. You wake up at night in a cold sweat, don’t you, thinking about me taking out your sorry ass.”

The shield expanded and contracted as if Will’s temper had flared, but when he spoke, his voice was as cool as ever. “I want my chance, Jackie boy. You’re such a badass, the boogie man of snipers, you and that ghost of a