CHAPTER 95
Once through the hole in the barrel-cave wall, Rex pulled a tiny LED light from his pocket and squeezed the sides to illuminate what appeared to be a stairway landing. Directly opposite the hole, steps led up. To the right, stairs led down. Rex looked around and saw recent footprints in the dust going left. As a noisy posse gathered in the barrel cave, Rex made footprints to the right and the left, then scuffed up both sets before climbing up the stairs after Gabriel and Harper.
For all the good it would do, he thought. But what the hell, there was nothing else to be done.
He climbed rapidly, trying once to raise somebody on the radio, but the surrounding rock made that impossible. Just as well, he thought. Braxton's men obviously had Stone and Kilgore's radios.
'Sorry, Miss Anabel,' Rex said under his breath.
'Do you hear somebody behind us?' Harper asked in a ragged whisper. 'Hard to tell,' Gabriel whispered as he half-carried the old doctor up the steps.*****
The restrained professionalism of Clark Braxton's security men surprised me. The handcuffs at my back were secure but not too tight, the grip on my arm firm but not uncomfortable. We arrived at an elevator as the doors opened and disgorged a big, beefy man with the face of an angry bull. The people holding us visibly stood straighter. The man's eyes burned sharp and mean. He stuck his face right in Kilgore's.
'You are so far out of line this time, Jack, you will never, ever take another breath as a free man.'
Kilgore remained silent as the man stood back and adjusted his tie. 'Take them up to the cellar,' the big man said. 'The General wants a word with them.'
'You want us to notify local law enforcement, sir?' asked the man holding on to my biceps.
'I'll handle the county mounties when the time comes.'
'Sir?' a voice came from the rear. 'Sanchez wants to know if you want to send a search party into that hole in the barrel-cave wall.'
'Tell him to wait for Jim Clayton. He knows those old tunnels like the back of his hand.'
I didn't like what I heard; I had learned too much. Names, other things I would not expect professionals to reveal in front of captives. Unless it wouldn't matter.
When the elevator doors closed, I imagined the sort of 'accidents' that could happen when two soldiers as capable as Kilgore and I tried to escape.*****
'There they are.' Tyrone pointed at the screen. 'Heading to that elevator, which has a camera'-he cursored around, clicked on another icon-'right here.'
Jasmine's fear transformed into abject sorrow as she watched Brad Stone step into the elevator and look right up at the camera.
'I love you,' she whispered to his image.
Dan Gabriel stumbled up the pitch-dark stairs, half-dragging Frank Harper behind him. He stopped periodically to rest and to listen for sounds of pursuit. He pushed on upward in the dark until suddenly his face hit a barrier and he almost dropped Harper.
'What happened?' Harper whispered.
'Dead end,' Gabriel replied. 'Can you sit on a step?'
'Yes.'
Gabriel closed his eyes against the despair, although he saw nothing less, no more, with his lids open or shut, so complete was the darkness. Then, beyond the dead end, the sound of voices, footsteps. Gabriel ran his hand over the dead end, and under his fingers it felt like Sheetrock. Was there hope? He pressed his ear to the wallboard. Gabriel's hopes fell as he recognized the voice of Braxton's security chief. Then Jack Kilgore.
'We've got to do something,' Gabriel whispered. 'Even if it's a kamikaze charge, I can't just sit here and do nothing.'
'Nothing-'
'Yes, Doctor, nothing is its own decision. They'll kill us if we sit here, so I might as well take somebody with me.'
'What are you going to do? Charge through the wall like a madman and attack them with your bare hands?'
'Do you have a better idea?'
'No,' said Harper.
Then came an unknown voice in the darkness that sucker punched them both.
'I do.'
CHAPTER 96
'Oh, man, take a look at this.'
The laptop screen showed rack after rack of wine.
'This must be the holy of holies,' Tyrone said. 'Millions of dollars' worth.' 'And he never drinks it.' Jasmine shook her head. Tyrone clicked around. 'There must be ten… no, fourteen cameras in this room.' Other than for different labels and neck capsules, most of the views looked mostly the same. The only ones different showed the elevator area and, the other, a brightly lit room with a view overlooking Napa Valley. The image showed the smoke rising from the hills behind them. A few more degrees down tilt and we'd be on this one,' Tyrone said.
Jasmine looked over at the fire, then up at the window she figured must be the one on-screen.
Tyrone clicked back to the service elevator as the doors opened. He and Jasmine stared silently as guards escorted Stone and Kilgore out.
'Where's Rex?' Jasmine asked. Then a moment later: 'I don't suppose you can save the video stream, can you?'
'I think maybe so. Why?'
'Great evidence.'
Tyrone pecked at the keyboard.
'I'd like to make sure if anything happens… ' Her voice cracked. 'If something happens, I will nail that bastard's butt to a tree.'
'Uh-huhmm,' Tyrone said slowly 'Please remind me not to get on your bad side.'
Jack Kilgore and I sat cross-legged on the cool tiles of General Braxton's wine cellar. Giant, polished wooden racks reached halfway to the twenty-foot ceiling. They stretched the length of the space like library shelves, organized into rows and aisles running from the elevators at the back to a set of double glass doors at the front.
Two security guards stood behind us, and a third stood by the double glass entry doors guarding our walkie- talkies, firearms, and the rest of our gear piled on the floor. They all had semi-automatic pistols drawn.
We waited in the silence, listening to our own breathing and scanning the priceless wine I doubted I would ever taste.
Suddenly, a loud hammering and crashing rocked the side of the wine cellar to my right, somewhere beyond the carefully crafted, lovingly oiled tropical-hardwood racks.
'Damn!' Rex cursed amid the rattling of wine bottles; the rack to our right shuddered. From beyond the rack came the dull breaking noises of full wine bottles smashing on the tile floor.
The guard in front of us raised his pistol and followed the noise.
Then from behind: 'What the hell?' Kilgore and I turned at the same time and saw one of our guards, pistol drawn, running toward the source of the noise. He disappeared around the far end of the racks nearest the elevators.
Then came a faint hiss and profound screams. Two wild gunshots followed. Above my head, geysers of red wine and glass erupted. I hit the floor; bottles exploded to my left. The guard behind us looked toward his partner. Kilgore struggled to his feet.
