“But they’re hours ahead of schedule,” the driver pointed out. “Instructions from the vault said to be on the lookout for activity sometime around noon Central European Time. That’s when Maddie estimated Metcalf might give the kill order if her people couldn’t stop him.”
“She also warned that we’re dealing with a bunch of fanatics led by a crazy man. Logic might not apply in this situation.”
The driver shifted the car into gear and pulled onto the road, intending to follow the Nephilim vehicle at a safe distance. “You better alert the security division back at HQ. Tell them they need to get the word out to the rest of our surveillance crews in all the strike zones. The Argus agents are on the move.”
His companion was already placing the call. As he waited for a connection, he turned worriedly to the driver. “If even one of our teams fails to intercept Metcalf’s delivery boys, the world is in for a really bad day.”
***
The helicopter rose from the ground, hovered, and then headed southeast. Leroy Hunt settled in for the short flight to the final showdown in yet another mountain cave. The cowboy checked his watch. At that very moment, the preacher’s death squads were releasing poison gas on various points east. They’d started in the land of the rising sun and were following daybreak as it traveled westward. As a matter of idle curiosity, Leroy wondered how fast the plague might spread. He wasn’t worried about catching it himself though. He’d been vaccinated along with everybody else making the trip.
Metcalf and his posse had flown from Chicago to northeastern Norway the day before. The old man had decided to come through the backdoor instead of following the same route as the thieves. It would make for a cleaner getaway once everything was over. Leroy had used his connections to get them a chopper which would take them across the border to their mountain rendezvous. He’d also hired a pilot who wasn’t inclined to ask any questions about his passengers’ business.
The cowboy glanced around the cabin at his fellow travelers. They sat in two groups of four, facing each other across the aisle. He felt in the mood to strike up a conversation, but the three men flanking him didn’t appear particularly chatty. Two of them were tin soldiers whose names Leroy hadn’t bothered to learn. They sat staring straight ahead, their faces all puckered up. The third was named Commander Matthew, and he looked the sourest of all. No doubt he was having a little trouble adjusting to his new job as the preacher’s chief of security. Or maybe he was just having trouble wrapping his head around the way he’d gotten promoted. The night before they left, the preacher’s son Josh had finally made a move on his own daddy. Luckily, the old man had heeded Hunt’s advice and plugged the kid first. It was a good thing too. Otherwise, Josh might have royally screwed up Hunt’s trip to Easy Street.
Leroy transferred his attention to the four passengers sitting opposite. The preacher was in the middle of the group with eyes shut and lips moving. He was probably praying for some spare thunderbolts from on high to help him take out his enemies. Even while lost in prayer, the old man kept a paw clamped over the hand of his missus.
Little Hannah let her eyes wander in Hunt’s direction. He smiled at her. She froze like a scared rabbit. He’d seen that same look in her eyes from her wedding photo. The one the preacher had given him to track her down with. She immediately turned her head away and pretended to stare out the window. Maybe the old man was wise to hold a tight rein on the gal. She looked likely to bolt the first chance she got.
Hunt next focused on the runt sitting by the window. Brother Daniel seemed even more twitchy than usual today. He kept wriggling around in his seat like a swarm of fire ants had found themselves a new home in his britches.
On the other side of the preacher sat Blondie. As Hunt cast a glance in his direction, he realized the hostage had been watching him. The thief gave a cocky sneer at having caught the cowboy off guard. Leroy took great comfort in the notion that this was the last day he would ever be plagued by that particular thorn in his side. Still of all, he made a mental note to keep close tabs on the thief until the deal was done.
The cowboy found himself pondering whether any of his fellow travelers had a notion of the old man’s end game. The preacher never meant to keep his word to the thieves. The hostages were just brought along for show to get some cooperation in digging up the last doodad. Metcalf’s plan was to keep little Hannah as his lawfully-wedded wife. The minute the transaction was finished, Hunt had been ordered to kill the three thieves and anybody else they’d brought to the party. Leroy’s hand strayed briefly to his holster. He’d been careful to choose the right tool for the job—a Glock 18 fully-automatic pistol. Accuracy of aim wasn’t important in a massacre. The Glock could empty its thirty-three round magazine in a matter of seconds and shoot 1,200 bullets in a single minute. There was no question the thieves and their friends would drop before they ever knew what hit them.
What the preacher didn’t know was that Hunt had a follow-up job of his own planned. He’d keep shooting til everybody else in that cave was dead too. Then he’d go outside and gun down any armed guards they might have brought with them. The only person left alive would be the pilot. For a cut, he’d already agreed to help Leroy make a clean getaway.
The cowboy glanced down at a black leather bag resting next to the
