Chuck Barrett
The Savannah Project
For Debi, Brittany, Chase, Christa, and Kates
In memory of George Fontaine — whose untimely departure from this world has left a void in the lives of many, certainly mine. You are sorely missed
EPIGRAPH
The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills.
It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially.
If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.
PROLOGUE
Jake cradled her head in his lap, hand cramped from applying pressure to stem the fountain gushing from her neck. Warm, sticky blood oozed through his fingers, pooling on the floor beneath his legs.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek wiping away a tear. “Hang on. Help is on the way, just hang on.”
The historic old house reeked of burnt gunpowder. Its acrid tang stung his nose, his eyes filled with water. Water that threatened to turn to tears. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen. He had to be strong. For her, maybe for himself.
It had happened so fast, the massacre that left death all around him. A bloodbath — the result of an aircraft accident investigation gone horribly wrong.
“Jake? Jake, where are you? I can’t see anything, Jake. I’m scared.”
“I’m right here.” He stroked her hair. “I’m right here with you.”
His pulse quickened when he saw the man propped against the closed front door — lifeless eyes open, two gunshot wounds to the chest. A trail of blood smeared down the inside of the front door where he’d succumbed to death.
Across the living room lay two bloody figures. One dead, draped over a coffee table, the other curled on the floor in the fetal position. A bullet in the gut.
Another body lay behind a black leather recliner. The impact of the bullet at close range had blown part of the man’s head off. Blood, bone, and brain matter stained the wall and floor a sickening pink.
He retched.
Movement caught his eye. He turned to see the assassin staggering down the hall toward the back door. The man moved in slow motion, clutching his left shoulder as he bumped against the wall.
In a weak voice, she said, “Jake, I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die. I won’t let that happen.”
He brushed away another tear.
After the last barrage of gunfire, the house had become eerily quiet — the silence was deafening.
Sunlight beamed through the slit in the curtains. Like a still photograph, dust particles hung motionless in midair.
The calm after the storm, only devastation remained.
The past few minutes were a blur. It made no sense. How did a simple investigation end with this? A nightmarish scene of blood and gore, spies and assassins, betrayal and deceit.
His usual foresight had failed him this time. It had never been a problem before. Dammit, why hadn’t he seen this ending? Clueless. Until it was too late.
Rocking back and forth, stanching the flow of blood, he prayed. Prayed she would survive. Prayed his efforts would prove worthy, all the while reassuring her that she would be okay. Reassuring himself that she would be okay.
Banging on the front door broke the silence like thunder clapping — drawing him back into reality.
Voices on the street below screamed and yelled. Sirens wailed. Police whistles blew. A groaning mutter from the air traffic controller on the floor was laced with profanity. Sounds filled the room, growing louder and louder with each passing second, rising into a chaotic roar.
Jake looked into her terrified eyes, and he knew what he had to do. Anger cleared his mind.
He caressed her cheek. “You’ll be all right. I’ll make everything right. But you have to fight. Don’t give up.”
“Please…don’t let me die.” Her words were barely audible.
“I won’t let that happen.” I’ll kill that bastard or I’ll die trying.
She didn’t hear him. Her body went limp as she drifted into unconsciousness.
A plan had formulated in his mind and his resolve became clear. He knew what he had to do.
He knew who he had to call.
CHAPTER 1
Three days earlier, the assassin had arrived at Sanders’ Dallas apartment, quietly knocking on the front door while calling him with his cell phone.
“Hello?” Sanders answered.
“Duane. It’s Ian. Open the door, it’s urgent.”
“Ian?”
Ian hung up but kept knocking on the door.
Seconds later the door opened. Sanders was barefoot, wearing
blue jeans and a crumpled white t-shirt. He rubbed his eyes. “Ian? What the hell are you doing here?”
Ian looked at the five-foot-five mechanic. “We have work to do on Challenger Three Charlie Bravo.”
“Three Charlie Bravo? She doesn’t leave for Savannah for over twenty-four hours. We have all day tomorrow to work on her — whatever it is can wait until a decent hour.”
“We have something to install now. It won’t take long, now come on.” Ian grabbed Sanders’ arm.
Sanders jerked his arm away. “Hell no. I’m not installing anything on an airplane at two o’clock in the morning.”
Ian pointed the weapon at Sanders’ forehead. “Oh, but you are,” he said. “I anticipated that you might need a little incentive so I went to see your girlfriend a few hours ago. I think you’ll agree to come with me now.” Ian pushed his way into Sanders’ apartment and closed the front door.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. “Just so you won’t try anything stupid.” He handed the photo to Sanders.
The mechanic fell to his knees. “My God. What have you done?”
Ian snatched Sanders from his knees and shoved him into a chair. “Come on, Duane. What does it look like I’ve done? I drugged your girlfriend, tied her up, and strapped an explosive device to her chest.” He held up his cell phone. “And all I have to do is press this button and boom.”
“Who the hell are you? What do you want?”
“Who I am is none of your concern but it should be obvious about now. What do I want? What I want… is your full cooperation without any more stupid questions. Is that clear, Duane?”
Sanders nodded. “Okay, I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt Heather.”
Ian smiled. “Good choice, Duane. I thought you’d see it my way.”
When they arrived at the hangar, Ian gave Sanders the schematics and the parts. He watched carefully as Sanders installed the device into the Challenger 604 Business Jet. When Sanders finished, Ian activated a switch. A series of lights blinked as it performed a diagnostic check. A steady green light came on, indicating a proper installation.
Ian waved the weapon motioning Sanders out of the aircraft. “Let’s go.”
He closed the aircraft cabin door and together they walked to Sanders’ pickup truck.
Sanders started shaking. “I…I did what you wanted. I don’t care what any of this is about. We won’t talk. I promise. Just let Heather go.”
Ian backhanded Sanders across the face. “Shut up or I’ll kill both of you. If you do as I say, I’ll let you both go after Three Charlie Bravo leaves for Savannah. But, Duane, know this, if I find out you talked, I’ll track you down and kill you. Are we clear on that?”