was cover for a desperate man who needed a bargaining chip. What would he do with it? How would he play it?
Sam made it quickly through the house past the safe room to the other side. It was alternately dark and light with muzzle blasts and explosions punctuating the night. The air was heavy with a smell like hot wires. Smoke curled in columns and hung in clouds. It was a primitive struggle with ghastly killing devices rending flesh and destroying a home. Half the men had to be dead, and the fighting was starting to ebb. Perhaps they had learned that there was no getting at Jason.
He picked up his radio. “Any word on Anna?”
“Nothing,” T.J. said. On the back side of the house Sam tried night vision between flashes. Looking off into the blackness all the way to the tree line, he scanned and scanned again. He saw men crawling and crouching, but no one really moving except the occasional man pulling back. His radio clicked.
“Monsieur Sam.”
“This is Sam.”
“If you will look at the trees by the pump house.”
Sam looked at the pump house and then saw a man step from behind holding someone in camouflage.
“You have Anna.”
“Yes. Still wet with your come.”
He knew it was a psychological jab, and still it worked.
“What do you want?”
“I want the two in the concrete box in exchange.”
“You’re Belle du Jour. You’re Freight Stop. You’re wanted for the murder of Wes King and the theft of his software. You are the lover of Benoit Moreau, the servant of DuShane Chellis.”
“Of course you know that men like me disappear everyday.”
“But you’re not sure, are you? Men like you get caught by men like me.”
“Not before I am through with your woman.”
“If you want to bargain you’re going to have to go for something I can give you.”
“Like what?”
“Like me.”
“What do I want with you?”
“You won’t get Jason. You can have Anna Wade, but to you she is just a toy and she can only die once. Kill me and you improve your own chances of survival considerably. I think you know that.”
“I didn’t come for you.”
“No, you didn’t. You came for Jason, but it didn’t work because he’s locked in a box with twelve hours of air and the Mounties are on the way. It’s all about timing, and it’s getting late. Of course, even to have a chance of getting in that box you need me dead, don’t you?”
“You come, she goes.”
“Anna, come here,” Sam called out.
Anna started walking with Gaudet’s gun pointed at her.
Sam walked toward her and the man in black. The shooting had quieted. T.J. had come up close behind him and was following. For some reason Gaudet did not protest. Other men were creeping to the edge of the field. Now there were many guns on Sam and many guns on Devan Gaudet.
“This is crazy,” T.J. said.
“Sam, don’t go,” Anna said, now almost even with him.
“If I don’t go, he and about ten other guys are gonna put bullets in your head.”
“I don’t care. Don’t go. Tell the men to shoot.”
“We’ll all be dead. We’re in the open.” Sam walked past her and kept walking toward the man he meant to kill. T.J. fell away, going back with Anna.
As Sam approached he saw a mustached man wearing night-vision goggles. The man took off his mask and a bright light came on. It was aimed at him so that Gaudet was in a shadow.
“You are Devan Gaudet.”
“Some days.”
“You killed my son.”
“Now I understand what a triumph that was. I know you have in mind killing me, but before you try you should turn around.”
Sam looked back. What he saw sickened him. T.J. was holding a gun to Anna’s head. The other men were keeping their places.
“This is bullshit,” one of Sam’s men called out. “Whose side are you on, T.J.?”
“The money side. Everybody who wants an easy hundred grand, step up here.”
None of Sam’s men moved except to point their guns at T.J.
“What’s the way in?” T.J. called.
There is no way in. You can kill Anna and me all day long and there is no way in. That thing has twelve hours of air and it isn’t opening a moment sooner, no matter what I do or say. I told them to stay the full twelve hours. Even the cops won’t get them out. You blow it up and you’ll kill them with the concussion.”
“All right. Then we’ll put a rocket into that thing and kill them.”
“Have at it.”
“T.J. is a little small-minded,” Gaudet sneered. “I have a pneumatic drill and several diamond-tipped bits. They will go through anything.”
“Slowly,” Sam said, suddenly feeling a chill.
“As you said, if I’ve got you, I’ve got time. Granted there will be a few dead Mounties, but that’s no problem.”
Sam was ten feet from Gaudet and slightly to the side. Gaudet had a pistol aimed at his head, as did three other men. Too many men. Too many angles. It was impossible.
Grandfather.
Sam could think of nothing.
Without the sun the great horned owl lays waste the eagle’s nest.
“Maybe now you’d like to drop the gun before we begin killing your sweet Anna.”
Sam sensed that there would be no later chance and therefore any risk was acceptable.
Sam kicked both feet for the sky and as he fell shot a blast at the light.
Black. Men fired shots across the field and there was instant war. Sam rolled even as he was knocked three feet over the ground by a bullet.
Searing-hot pain shot through his ribs but he kept rolling. The bullet had hit the steel of the chest plate in his flak jacket. There was the excruciating pain of cracked ribs but nothing else. Beside Sam a man fell, shot. Sam took his weapon and hunkered behind him. Five bullets, at least, hit the body. Pulling his goggles down, Sam saw Gaudet step behind a tree, still blind without his night vision. With his chest aching like a grapefruit-sized tooth cavity, Sam ran for the tree, figuring to end Gaudet.
As he ran he caught a glimpse of T.J., dragging Anna back into the house.
“This is the Canadian Mounted Police,” came booming over a loudspeaker.
A rocket streaked across the field and a car exploded in liquid fire.
So much for the police, Sam thought.
Standing against the large tree, an oak several feet in diameter, he tried to imagine what Gaudet might do. A noise came from above; he looked straight up, fired a single shot. A body fell. Not Gaudet.
Whirling around the tree, he saw nothing. Gaudet was gone, his men pulling back to a sandbag bunker. Maybe Gaudet was with them. Firing erupted and Sam pulled back as well.
Someone had prepared. Of course… as soon as T.J. had arrived he told them where to come. Along the way he no doubt had given them information. Even the travel was made easy.
“Sam, we are going to kill your Anna.” It was Gaudet’s French accent over a loudspeaker.
“Listen up,” Sam said into the quiet of his radio. “Converge on the house. Anybody gets any kind of a shot at T.J. just take it. They’ll kill any hostages anyway.”
Sam ran straight to the house, taking only slight cover when he could. Incredibly he had drawn no fire by the
