Point of No Return (26 page)

“Ditto.” Jack brought out the beans and grinder and dumped beans in the hopper. While Honey viciously turned the crank, Jack fed the wood stove and put water on. “Plan?”

“First things first. Check out what we’ve been sent. Get the hell out of Dodge and back to DC,
then
decide who we take this to,” she said.

“Agree,” Jack said. “The jacked-up part is, who the hell in DC are we going to trust?”

The motivation for taking the girls and killing Jack’s family was understood. What Global was doing wasn’t. They took turns reviewing the data screens, jotting dates, anything that popped out, and prepping to leave. Coop had found no alerts on buying or selling weapons or technology outside normal Chinese lanes. The alerts he did find consisted of attacks on corporate and government secrets. Cyber defense may not be that great in the private sector, but in the government it was far more complex than the public was led to believe. Every day thousands of people employed by secret agencies searched for those attacks.

“There’s no intel of Global actively in these areas. What are we missing? I don’t see it,” she said.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Their financials make it appear every cent they make gets poured back into the company. We might be looking for another set of books.”

“Our options are limited here. Let’s refocus, start at the beginning, go over everything since we first became involved. Jar some little detail.”

Jack went first. Eyes pinched, recounting painful details from when he learned about his family to the time she arrived at the cabin. Nothing jumped out.

She began with the village and finding the girls. Something in her encoded memory took her to the Tango who came close to blowing her head off and stopped. “I recognized a man. Actually the gang tats on his knuckles, then his face. He was a petty thief, a pickpocket, I’d tried to recruit as an asset. The . . .”

It came crashing together, connecting cartoonishly like boxcars on a mile-long train. The man was known to steal for IDs and credit cards, selling them to gangs.

Porter and Barras were linked to cyber gangs. The crude tat on Verna’s arm.

The personnel files on Porter’s computer.

Her hand shot out, grasping a fistful of Jack’s shirt.

“Hey. You’ve got hair in the there. Let go.” Jack’s hand covered hers, peeling away her fingers.

“Identify theft
.”

Jack grew still. “Flaming fish balls,” he whispered.

She gave him the fish-eye. “Global is trading on the status they gained from the feds. City, state, and national governments have given them complete access to harvest any and all information needed to steal and build credit.”

“A billion-dollar industry. Global, the contracts . . . a pretext.”

They stood stone still, Honey grasping Jack’s shirt, his hand covering hers, taking what they knew and pressing the implications through the new framework.

Chapter 20

“I’m ready. You?” Honey said, dropping her bags near the door.

“I’m gonna shut down the security systems. Turn the generator off.”

“Security
systems
, other than the jammer?” This information was new to her.

“Got a cam thing set up out on the road. Couple up on the hill where I thought I could be watched from. Haven’t checked in a couple of days.” He pulled her close. “I figured with my very own hotshot Marine intelligence office here, no one would dare . . .” He paused and gaped over her shoulder at one of the laptops.

“Jack?” He didn’t answer. She tried to block his view of the screens but he looked around her. “Never thought I’d see the day when Agent Always Hard preferred a computer to . . . or—” She twisted around. “Something there?”

“Yeah.” He banged a few keys, and when the screen split into four views he pointed to the upper left screen. “That’s a replay.” A large dark figure swept past the camera, then another.

Honey looked at the white numbers at the corner of the square, 01:03, and a chill ran through her. What she saw wasn’t an animal. It was a man. Two men.

Jack pointed to the two lower screens. “Real time.” These screens delivered a bird’s-eye view of the cabin. He must be part monkey to have set them that high. A large odd bird glided past one camera and then into view of the second wider-angle camera. The
bird
was a surveillance drone circling above.

“Look.” Jack pointed at the feed where she’d seen the two figures. “They went back.”

Honey tapped her ear, a way to ask if he thought there were listening devices.

“No. Jammer blocks them. I never considered drones.” He pointed to the remaining view. “This cam is halfway inside the jammed area. The laser alarms are fifty feet out and cover the entire perimeter of the cabin. They didn’t come in that far. Global?”

“Who else?” she said.

“How?”

“Moore knows where I am.”
Gawd
, she hoped he wasn’t a part of this.

“They here to watch, damage, or terminate?” Jack watched her intently.

“Watch.”

“Agreed,” Jack said quietly, “or they would have come at us last night. They want us in the open.”

She looked out to the lake. “Don’t want bullet holes in the cabin or trees to raise questions. We just disappear.”

“Time to get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay.” They ramped up their preparations to do just that. “We get in the car and drive like a bat escaping hell.”

Jack shook his head. “Not the car. Top speed it could do on that axle-busting road is twenty-five. My truck.”

“That bucket of rust
. Are you crazy?”

He didn’t seem to be paying attention as he shut down his laptops, placing them in lined metal cases. He slipped the flash drives into a jeans pocket.

“That thing will crumble at the first bump it hits.”

“Nah.” He stopped what he was doing and gave her a quick kiss. “The truck in the shed.” He turned his attention back to storing his equipment. “A Blazer . . . built for off-roading and rutted roads.”

“Inside that dilapidated shed?”

“Good hiding place, huh?”

“Yeah.” She recognized Jack had taken command of this op. His turf, he should. Still, it felt odd not to be the alpha in control.

“Once I’m in the shed the
bucket of rust
has to be pushed away from the door.” He pointed at her. “Your job. Clear the cinder block away from the front wheel and shove. It isn’t in gear.” He put the laptop cases in a duffel and rested the shotgun on top. “It’s on a downhill slope. When it gets rolling, open the shed doors all the way, jump in the Blazer and we’re outta here. Anything in the rental you need?”

Honey shook her head as she crouched over her duffel, removing her weapons and magazines.

“They’ll expect us to use the sedan to leave. It’ll take them a couple to realize what’s happening.”

She snapped her holster on her belt and checked the load in the H&K out of habit. Jack did the same with the Desert Eagle.

“We’ll be in the open. The Blazer’s cab and doors are off. I have a vest in the truck I’ll put in on the console. As soon as you’re in the truck put it on. The seat has a four-point belt lock. Use it. I plan on going like the fuckers are shooting at us.”

“Don’t need the vest.” She held up her dragon skin.

“Really? You travel with a vest?”

“I carry a long gun . . . I carry a vest.” She loaded a magazine into the H&K. “Never know when you’ll need one.” She remembered the drill instructor at officers candidate school, the one who hated her, holding up a vest saying,
Never leave home without it
. That was before they were widely used.

“Shudda known.” He watched her shrug into the vest. “You have a hat and jacket in there, get them on. Protect you from dust and flying gravel.”

She pulled out a hoodie and a utility cover, closed the bag and handed it to Jack, who slung it on his shoulder.

“Questions?”

“Not a one,” she said, securing her vest. “Kick the brick. Shove. Open. Jump in. Buckle up.”

Jack took a look around the cabin as he tucked his shirt into the waist of his jeans. “Time to giddy-up.” Holding the truck key in his mouth, he closed the cabin door behind them. “Don’t want the critters making themselves at home,” he mumbled around the key. “When you hear the shed door open, follow.” He started down the steps and stopped. He took her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back.

Honey put the hoodie on over the vest and zipped it up. The sight of her in a vest would be an instant alarm. She tucked her hair under the cap, tugging it far down. Jack stopped at the latrine, then walked casually to the shed. Metal hinges creaking like fingernails on a chalkboard were her signal. She didn’t rush to the old truck but walked with purpose and shoved the broken cinder block clear of the tire. Then she tugged open the driver’s-side door of the rust bucket, surprised the door didn’t fall off, and shoved. It moved a few inches. Inside the shed, a V8 engine roared to life. Doves fled the protection of the vines covering the quivering roof and a chattering squirrel escaped the vibrating to a nearby tree. The sound echoed against the hills. Whoever was out there was alerted now. She dug her boots in, gave the truck another heave and it was on its way. Lopsided wood doors groaned a protest as she shoved and kicked them open. The shed swayed. She backpedaled, afraid the whole thing would collapse.

From the darkness a red truck mounted on monster tires appeared in a cloud of dust. “Need a ride?” Jack yelled, pulling beside her. He wore a beat-to-hell leather jacket over his vest, a red ball cap on backward and mirrored shades.

She stepped back and leapt into the Bubba truck. Her feet had barely left the ground before Jack gunned it. She squirmed, grasping at any handhold, fighting to get upright in the seat and facing forward.

“Quit playing around and fucking get buckled in,” he commanded as he jerked the wheel to navigate the turn onto the road and avoid the rental car.

“I would if you’d quit driving like a fucking maniac,” she yelled back, struggling to get her arms through the seat restraints. It wasn’t exactly easy with the vest on. Jack slowed, reducing the bumping, for which she was grateful. She had no desire to face-plant on the road.

“Go for it,” she yelled the moment the clamps and buckles clicked together. She looked back over her shoulder through the rooster tail of billowing dust at the fast disappearing cabin. No men appeared. “Where do you think they’re watching from?”

“I’d say the second bend ahead.” He swerved to avoid a foot-deep rut. “Get glasses on.”

Honey did as told and tugged her hat down farther. Jack glanced over at the bag open at her feet holding the long gun and magazines, then quickly returned his gaze back to the road. “Where’d you leave your lock cases?” he asked.

“Don’t have any.”

“How the fuck you get on a plane with weapons and no lock cases?”

“Private plane.”

He turned and gave her an incredulous look.

“Told you . . . I’m rich.”

“Jack!”
she screamed and grabbed the windshield frame. A Hummer launched out of the woods into their path. Jack accelerated, going up the steep incline on his side of the road. The driver’s-side tires climbed the hill so far Honey twisted her arms around her restraint straps and braced for the roll she knew would come. Rocks slid, the truck engine whined, tires spun as they crashed through brush, but
no roll
. Jack expertly maneuvered the Blazer over the slope and blasted past the Hummer and
Bear in the shotgun seat
.

Honey looked back, getting a count of the men in the Hummer . . .
“Gun!”

Jack did the automotive version of zig and zag.

Holy f’ing fish balls.
The fuckers shot at them. Watch mode, hell, they were in terminate mode. She slammed a magazine in her second H&K and put it at her feet. Firing from one moving vehicle at another with handheld weapons was not like it was in the movies. It was damned difficult to hit a target. In moments they would round a curve, totally blocking them from the Hummer’s view, and she expected Jack to stop to stand and fight. He didn’t. He sped up.

“Wha . . . at the f . . . fu . . . uuck are you do . . . oing?” she stuttered as the truck bounced over washboard ruts and rocks. “Stop so we . . . we can fi . . . ight.”

“Nooo,” he called back. “Hang on. Go .. . going off ro . . . road.”

Like they were on a road? Jack turned the wheel sharply, taking the Blazer to the left and into a clear-cut area.

“It’s a forestry service road.” He slowed from the teeth-rattling, bone-clanking speed. “Shortcut. Takes us over a few ridges.”

Honey stared out the windshield. The
road
was a forestry service fire cut and went up at a thirty-degree angle.

“They won’t follow.”

They
were
following. A round zinged off the roll bar above Jack’s head . . .
and firing
. Honey instinctively twisted and returned the favor. Two bursts. Three rounds each. The man standing in the Hummer roof opening disappeared inside. Thank all that was holy they were bouncing more than the Blazer.

“Turning right,” Jack called. She braced and twisted her body to fire. It was no use. Jack drove them into thick forest, winding through trees, giving no chance of a clear shot. They bounced through thick brush, rocks, logs and who knows what else, the Hummer never far behind. The front end of the Blazer plunged down. Jack took them over a ledge and her ass left the seat even with the harness. They were in a gully with a stream. In places the gully was barely wide enough for Jack to navigate the big truck through. The Hummer stayed with them, ramming its way through and firing. They slewed around a wide bend and the steep banks turned to gentle slopes. Jack powered the truck out of the stream, a rooster tail of water spraying behind them. For a moment the tires tore at the ground, spinning, spewing water, mud and clumps of vegetation. Steam rose from the undercarriage. Gas fumes mixed with a pungent smell of last year’s rotting leaves, this year’s plants and mud being cooked against the undercarriage.