“Most of them are on duty at the air show. But they’ve been notified to get here as soon as possible.”
Ahead of them, Max saw the other police car parked outside of a stone wall with a wrought-iron gate. The cop had his pistol drawn and was standing behind the car. Max’s vehicle came to a halt right behind the first vehicle, and both he and the plainclothes officer got out.
The gunfire was louder now that they were here, coming in rapid bursts. But they couldn’t see anyone manning the gate. The whole property was surrounded by a tall stone wall. All Max could see through the wrought-iron front gate was a row of fancy SUVs parked on the lawn just inside the stone wall, and two more SUVs parked in the roundabout driveway in front of the mansion.
“What are you doing?” asked the cop.
Max was feeling his way up the stone wall, finding a grip and placing his shoe on a foothold.
“I need to get in there. I suggest you two wait here for your SWAT team. There’s at least one hostage inside — a woman. Tell them to be careful when they arrive.”
Max didn’t wait for a response. He flung himself over, scraping his leg and ignoring the pain, landing on his feet on the grass. He then removed his pistol from his concealed carry holster and jogged towards the entrance of the house.
Trent had picked off seven of the twelve gunmen from the senator’s office window across the bay when he’d decided to move his position. By then, some of the gunmen had located him and he was drawing fire.
He placed his weapon on safe and tucked it back in the duffle bag. Then he headed down the stairs. The senator and maid were both still tied up, sitting in the front hallway. The duct tape had been taken off the maid’s mouth and placed over the senator’s.
A knock at the door made Trent reach for his pistol. Mike, the young CIA operative, stuck his head in.
“Wilkes asked me to give you a hand here.”
Trent looked at the senator, who was avoiding eye contact. “You babysit them. And give me your keys.”
“Wilkes is outside. He’ll drive you.”
“Fine.”
Trent jogged to the car and got in.
“Everything go alright?”
“For me. Not so much for them.”
Wilkes hit the gas and they headed towards the fight.
Wilkes said, “Any word from Max?”
“I couldn’t see him, but he should be there by now.”
“How many?”
“At least five of them were left.”
“That’s not great odds.”
Renee was wired with adrenaline and sheer terror as she witnessed the gunfire. Williams and Syed were now inside the room, both looking out at the carnage in the yard. The assassin was also looking that way, but he’d moved to an adjacent room, still holding his gun.
She decided it was now or never, and she bolted.
Renee raced towards the mansion’s front door, pumping her arms and gritting her teeth, her limbs feeling like they were twice their usual weight. She was scared half out of her mind as she braced herself for a bullet in the back.
“Hey!” someone shouted from behind, and she heard the fast squeaks of footsteps on hardwood flooring.
Her sweaty palm pushed down the ornate door latch and pulled, but she felt resistance. She cursed, then flipped the deadbolt and repeated. The door flung open, and she could just barely make out a man running towards her with a gun in his hand. She almost panicked but then realized who it was.
She screamed, “Max!”
As she started to run out the door, what felt like a locomotive hit her from the side, knocking her out of the way and to the floor. The sound of gunshots and a slamming door and then more yelling and a searing white-hot pain in her temple.
“Take her with you.”
Her vision was blurred, but somewhere in her mind she knew the voice belonged to Ian Williams. She felt herself being dragged away. She tried to squirm and fight, but the strong grip and multiple hands on her were too much to overcome.
Renee blinked away the haze and realized she was being carried into a garage, then thrown in the backseat of a car. The cough of an engine turning over and the familiar creak of a garage door opening. Then a lurch as the car accelerated and the deafening roar of gunfire coming from inside her vehicle. Ears ringing and a clang as the car must have hit something.
Then everything got quiet. She looked up, and Ian Williams’s face was smiling over hers. Licking his lips in his disgusting way.
He whispered, “I told you that I would take you myself, dearie.”
Chapter 31
Max cursed from his hiding spot in the hedges in front of the house. He’d seen Renee at the door, screaming his name. She was so close, but then someone had tackled her from the side. Max had shot one of the gunmen square in the chest before the door had slammed shut. He was getting ready to break through a window when an SUV had emerged from the garage. Max was sure he could make out Renee’s face in the backseat.
Someone from the getaway vehicle had fired at the now-substantial police presence on the main street in front of the home as it barreled through the wrought-iron gate.
Max got up, tucked his gun into its holster, and ran the fifty or so yards towards the police vehicles, hoping no one would mistake him for one of the cartel gunmen. He heard a pop shot behind him and the snap of a bullet going past but kept running, knowing it was his best course of action.
As he arrived at the now-bashed gate entrance, a man in SWAT tactical gear grabbed him and pulled him behind the stone wall. A few of the police cars were starting up, looking like they were getting ready to pursue the fleeing SUV.
Someone yelled, “It’s okay, he’s with us!”
A sedan came to a halt in the middle of the street and two men got out. Trent and Wilkes.
Max pointed down the road as the SWAT man released him. “Trent, they’re about a half mile ahead. Dark SUV. They’ve got Renee.”
Trent nodded and grabbed the keys out of Wilkes’s hand, jumping in the driver’s seat. Max opened the passenger door and threw himself inside.
Wilkes stared at the two from the street as Trent accelerated, and the world spun past. Max’s mind raced as he thought of what Renee was going through. Of where she was headed. Of what they might do to her…
Renee felt the SUV jolt as they drove through a chain-link fence. She was sitting up in the center of the backseat, a Latino gunman to her left, Williams to her right.
“There,” William yelled. “That’s ours.”
The SUV zoomed along the flight line, where the private jets were parked. It came to a halt outside a sleek white Learjet.
Williams talked to one of the pilots out the window, speaking rapid Spanish and getting angrier by the moment.
“He says we can’t take off. Several of the private jets have been defueled by airport operations, this one included. They say the order came from the Department of Homeland Security. We need another way.”
Syed said, “If we can get to Fond du Lac’s airport, my aircraft is there.”
“How do you know we won’t face the same issue?”
“My men will not have allowed this to happen. If we can get there, we will be able to leave without problem.”
“Well, we can’t drive there. The police are everywhere now.”
The younger man — the assassin — was in the front passenger seat. He pointed out the front window. “That aircraft over there across the runway has started up. We can tell the pilot to take us to Fond du Lac.”
“That thing is a relic. It’s for tourists.”