“Hey.” Trent tapped Max on the arm to get his attention. “Look.”
The men in gray flight suits were on the move, riding their golf cart away from the scene. Max watched as they rolled through the nearest exit and headed for the massive parking lot area.
“They’re gone.”
Bullet holes filled the door.
Renee watched in horror as the CIA man standing behind it collapsed to the floor, his chest covered in crimson. Three men in black tactical gear stormed through the entrance, fanning out through the living room, their weapons trained on the two women.
Within seconds, Renee and Upton were on their stomachs, a boot in each of their backs, the barrel of a submachine gun aimed at their heads.
More men entered the house, including two who carried in a large plastic tarp roll. One of the gunmen flipped up the coffee table and threw it into the corner of the room, picture frames and glass shattering. Two other men pushed the couches and chairs so that the space became open. Then they unrolled the plastic tarp on the floor.
Renee became nauseous as she realized what was going on.
A tall Caucasian man appeared in the doorway, a thin smile on his face.
“Hello, ladies,” said Ian Williams in his thick British accent. He said something in Spanish, and both women were hiked up off the floor.
Jennifer Upton said, “Ian, would you please tell your men here to release me? I’m the one who called you here, for God’s sake.”
“Yes, and it’s much appreciated.” One of the men set a toolbox down on the floor next to Williams.
“Gracias.” He opened the toolbox and removed a pair of pliers, a vise, and a small power saw, which he plugged into the wall.
Williams walked over to Renee and caressed her neckline up to her cheek. His face twitched, and he pressed his lips forward and together like a deranged kiss. Renee turned her head away, shivering in fear and revulsion.
Where was Max? Wilkes must know that something had happened here. They would come for them. But how long would it take? The air show was more than a half hour away.
Williams seemed to be reading her mind. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll have you out of here before your friends begin to worry. They’re busy cleaning up another mess right now.”
He kissed her on the neck and walked around her body, sliding his fingers over her bare arm. Renee wanted to lash out. She could feel her blood pressure rising and her face heating up as anger overcame all her other emotions. But there must have been six of his attack dogs in the room, each one holding a large black machine gun. Renee hated guns. But what she wouldn’t give to get her hands on one of them right now.
“Renee. You don’t know how happy it makes me to see us united again. If you please, my dear. Go wait in the car. I will join you momentarily.”
He gave another command in Spanish, and she was escorted into the back of a large SUV outside, a gunman sitting on either side of her. They didn’t even bother to tie her hands. She had no chance against men like these. They left the door open, allowing the airflow to cool them in the warm summer day. Through the open door, Renee heard the high-pitched sound of the power saw. Then she heard screaming. A loud, blood-curdling scream. Then nothing for a few moments. Then more power saw and screams, and an awful gurgling noise. Then nothing. Renee dry-heaved in the backseat of the car and one of the men guarding her laughed.
The whole thing took ten minutes, and then the men marched back out. This time the tarp was significantly thicker and heavier, with ties around each end as they shoved the remains of Jennifer Upton into the empty back of the lead vehicle.
Ian Williams sat shotgun in Renee’s SUV. He looked back at her. “We’re in good shape. Now let’s go show you the lake house, shall we?”
He smiled at her, his white teeth contrasting with the rest of his face, which was covered in tiny crimson dots of blood.
Chapter 28
Max, Trent, and Caleb Wilkes stood talking in the CIA’s faux vendor booth near the VIP tent. Charles had retired to his private jet after Senator Becker had left. Becker had wanted to mourn his daughter’s death alone, and Charles Fend had to agree.
Max was still in shock after witnessing Karen Becker’s crash. It had affected everyone watching.
Max spoke in a hushed tone. “So what do we think happened here? Was this another attempt to intimidate the senator? By targeting his daughter?”
Wilkes nodded. “It fits with the profile thus far.”
“This seems different than the other killings.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”
“Yes. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be intentional. And with the men in the gray flight suits you saw disappearing after the crash… it’s got to be foul play.”
Max looked out at the wreckage, rubbing his chin. The thick plumes of black smoke had ceased, but there were still wisps of white and gray rising up into the air. The air show, being as large as it was, had a policy in the event that a crash occurred. All flight operations stopped, and a new tentative schedule was announced. There was to be a four-hour delay before flights would continue. The taxiway where the accident had occurred would be closed while safety and investigation crews did their jobs. When the day’s events resumed, they would begin with a moment of silence.
Wilkes picked up his phone. “Go ahead.”
His face went from annoyed to panicked. “When did you get there? Son of a bitch. Do another sweep of the place, then call the local police and notify the FBI. You’ll have to stay there. Call me when authorities arrive. Don’t provide any info on our ongoing operation. I’ll contact my man at the FBI and give him a heads-up.”
Wilkes hung up and looked at Max.
“What is it?”
“Mike just got to the safe house. Someone hit it.”
“What?”
Trent shook his head and cursed.
Max said, “What the hell do you mean? Hit it? Where’s Renee?”
“She wasn’t there. My agent was dead at the scene.”
Max felt dizzy.
“No sign of either Jennifer Upton or Renee. But there were several bullet holes near the door, the furniture had been kicked around, and there were a few traces of blood spatter on the walls.”
Max’s mind was on fire. Caleb kept talking, but he couldn’t hear him. Max turned and walked away, fists clenched, breathing heavy through his nose and flexing his jaw.
Renee was gone.
Ian Williams had taken her. Was she still alive? If so, how long did she have?
Trent had placed his hand on his shoulder. “Max, you alright?”
The world was spinning all around him. Conversations and memories of the past week flashed through his head in a vortex of images and emotions. Joseph Dahlman shot in the park. Breakfast with Ian Williams. Ines Sanchez killed on the beach. The attack in Texas. Flying in to Oshkosh. Karen’s crash. Now Renee had been taken by these murderous madmen.
Then the flood of thoughts froze as he felt his phone vibrating. After the crash, he had turned it back on in hopes that Renee might have left him a message — before he knew she had been taken.
He hoped that she had been taken, and not worse.
There it was. A single voicemail. Max pressed the play button and held the phone up to his ear. Renee’s voice was a mousy whisper, quick and nervous.
“Max, I know I’m not supposed to call, but this is important. What did Karen Becker say to her father in the conversation your dad recorded? She asked him if they were here again? That kept bugging me, the way she said that. Here again. I didn’t think anything of it at first. Like maybe just that the bad guys were back. But now I think she actually meant that literally. Like here in Oshkosh. I found a picture from the internet dated three years ago. Get this. Senator Becker, Ron Dicks, Jennifer Upton, all smiling, and Ian freaking Williams is in the background. Max, they were at Oshkosh. Becker and Williams, Upton and Dicks. Oshkosh. Three years ago. Call me.”