Riptide
Page 59
There was no need for introductions.
Two men, both in their thirties, fit, one wearing glasses, the other smoking a pipe, were leaning against the side of the car. Savich said, “The guy in there?”
“The lights are still on, but we haven’t seen any movement at all. No one left since we got here. Chuck and Dave are around the back.” He took out his walkie-talkie. “You guys see anything?”
The answer was clear and loud. “He hasn’t come out this way, Tommy. You and Rollo haven’t seen anything?”
“Nothing.”
Dave said, “There’s no movement in the house that we can see. Chuck wants to go up close and look through the windows.”
“Tell Chuck and Dave to stay put,” Adam said. “Here’s Savich, he’ll give you the rundown on what we’re facing.”
Savich was concise, his voice clipped.
“I don’t like this,” Tommy said and puffed frantically on his pipe. “Damn, a woman living way out here, all alone, no neighbors for a couple of miles. I’ll bet he scoped her out really fast and that he’s been here with her. God, this doesn’t look good. We’ve seen nothing of either of them. Maybe she’s not here. Maybe MAX is wrong and she was never here.”
“Yeah, right, Tommy,” Rollo said, and he sounded depressed. He was short, dressed all in black, and he was perfectly bald, his head shining brightly beneath the summer moon.
Tommy the Pipe said, “Maybe he left before we got here. It could be that he took her with him, as a hostage.”
Linda Cartwright was a woman alone, and Becca knew he’d been in there, with her.
Damn the bright moon, Adam was thinking, it lit them up as clearly as daylight from the front of the farmhouse. But there were thick pine trees crowding the eastern side of the small farmhouse. Folk grew potatoes in this area, and so much of the land was cleared, open, just occasional random clumps of pines and maples dotted here and there, but no place to hide. There was a big mechanical digger sitting in the middle of an open field. There was a small sagging porch in front of the house, a naked lightbulb burning over the front door.
On the eastern side of the house, he could get to within twenty feet of the structure before the pine trees played out. It would have to be good enough. He pulled out his Delta Elite, thoughtfully rubbed his temple with the barrel. Then he said, a feral gleam in his eyes, “I got a plan. Gather round.”
“I don’t like it,” Savich said after Adam had fallen silent. “Too dangerous.”
Adam said, “I was thinking that all of us could go in guns blazing, raising hell, but the woman might still be alive. We can’t take the chance he’d pop her then and there and then kill two or three of us, what with all this damned moonlight.”
“All right,” Savich said after a moment, “but I’ll go with you.”
“Bullshit,” said Adam. “I don’t care if you’re a damned FBI agent and your goal in life is to catch bad guys. You’re married and you’ve got a kid. What I need from you and everyone else is good cover. I hear you’re a pretty good shot, Savich. Prove it.”
“I’m coming with you, Adam,” Becca said. “I’ll cover your back from right behind you.”
“No.” He held up his hand. “I’m the professional here. Just say some prayers, that’s all I ask.”
“No,” Becca said, and he realized then that if he wanted her to stay put, he’d have to have one of the men tie her down. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. It could be dangerous, too dangerous. He just didn’t know what to do.
“I’m coming,” she said, and he knew she was committed. “I have to, Adam, just have to.”
He wished he didn’t understand, but he did. He nodded. He heard Savich snort. “Becca will cover me from the woods,” he said. “No, no arguments, Becca. That’s the deal.”
Sherlock took the walkie-talkie and spoke to Chuck and Dave at the back of the house, told them what was going to happen.
Becca’s heart was pounding hard and fast. The night was chilly but she was sweating. She felt faint nausea in her stomach. This was real and it was scary and she was terrified, not just for Adam and her, but for that poor woman inside the house, that poor woman she prayed was still alive. Sherlock and the men looked calm, alert, ready. Tommy put his pipe back in his pocket and handed Becca a Kevlar vest. “It’s the smallest one, after Sherlock’s.” He shrugged. “Let me help you with it. You’re going to stay under cover in the woods, remember. You’ll be out of the line of fire, but hey, it always pays to be careful.”
Two men, both in their thirties, fit, one wearing glasses, the other smoking a pipe, were leaning against the side of the car. Savich said, “The guy in there?”
“The lights are still on, but we haven’t seen any movement at all. No one left since we got here. Chuck and Dave are around the back.” He took out his walkie-talkie. “You guys see anything?”
The answer was clear and loud. “He hasn’t come out this way, Tommy. You and Rollo haven’t seen anything?”
“Nothing.”
Dave said, “There’s no movement in the house that we can see. Chuck wants to go up close and look through the windows.”
“Tell Chuck and Dave to stay put,” Adam said. “Here’s Savich, he’ll give you the rundown on what we’re facing.”
Savich was concise, his voice clipped.
“I don’t like this,” Tommy said and puffed frantically on his pipe. “Damn, a woman living way out here, all alone, no neighbors for a couple of miles. I’ll bet he scoped her out really fast and that he’s been here with her. God, this doesn’t look good. We’ve seen nothing of either of them. Maybe she’s not here. Maybe MAX is wrong and she was never here.”
“Yeah, right, Tommy,” Rollo said, and he sounded depressed. He was short, dressed all in black, and he was perfectly bald, his head shining brightly beneath the summer moon.
Tommy the Pipe said, “Maybe he left before we got here. It could be that he took her with him, as a hostage.”
Linda Cartwright was a woman alone, and Becca knew he’d been in there, with her.
Damn the bright moon, Adam was thinking, it lit them up as clearly as daylight from the front of the farmhouse. But there were thick pine trees crowding the eastern side of the small farmhouse. Folk grew potatoes in this area, and so much of the land was cleared, open, just occasional random clumps of pines and maples dotted here and there, but no place to hide. There was a big mechanical digger sitting in the middle of an open field. There was a small sagging porch in front of the house, a naked lightbulb burning over the front door.
On the eastern side of the house, he could get to within twenty feet of the structure before the pine trees played out. It would have to be good enough. He pulled out his Delta Elite, thoughtfully rubbed his temple with the barrel. Then he said, a feral gleam in his eyes, “I got a plan. Gather round.”
“I don’t like it,” Savich said after Adam had fallen silent. “Too dangerous.”
Adam said, “I was thinking that all of us could go in guns blazing, raising hell, but the woman might still be alive. We can’t take the chance he’d pop her then and there and then kill two or three of us, what with all this damned moonlight.”
“All right,” Savich said after a moment, “but I’ll go with you.”
“Bullshit,” said Adam. “I don’t care if you’re a damned FBI agent and your goal in life is to catch bad guys. You’re married and you’ve got a kid. What I need from you and everyone else is good cover. I hear you’re a pretty good shot, Savich. Prove it.”
“I’m coming with you, Adam,” Becca said. “I’ll cover your back from right behind you.”
“No.” He held up his hand. “I’m the professional here. Just say some prayers, that’s all I ask.”
“No,” Becca said, and he realized then that if he wanted her to stay put, he’d have to have one of the men tie her down. He didn’t like it, but he understood it. It could be dangerous, too dangerous. He just didn’t know what to do.
“I’m coming,” she said, and he knew she was committed. “I have to, Adam, just have to.”
He wished he didn’t understand, but he did. He nodded. He heard Savich snort. “Becca will cover me from the woods,” he said. “No, no arguments, Becca. That’s the deal.”
Sherlock took the walkie-talkie and spoke to Chuck and Dave at the back of the house, told them what was going to happen.
Becca’s heart was pounding hard and fast. The night was chilly but she was sweating. She felt faint nausea in her stomach. This was real and it was scary and she was terrified, not just for Adam and her, but for that poor woman inside the house, that poor woman she prayed was still alive. Sherlock and the men looked calm, alert, ready. Tommy put his pipe back in his pocket and handed Becca a Kevlar vest. “It’s the smallest one, after Sherlock’s.” He shrugged. “Let me help you with it. You’re going to stay under cover in the woods, remember. You’ll be out of the line of fire, but hey, it always pays to be careful.”
