“Roger, One.”
“Blue Leader, this is Two, all samey-same.”
“Blue Leader, Three, ditto on that.”
“This is Blue Leader, all good.”
More silence. It became time to add the last team member.
“This is Blue Leader to Blue Five, let’s get airborne and to your hold.”
“Blue Leader, this is Blue Five, I am lighting up and going airborne and will be monitoring the police channels and holding at point one for quick evac.”
“Roger, Blue Five, notify when on point, good and out.”
More time dragged by.
“Blue Leader, this is Airborne Blue Five, am on point, holding at about two angels, police channel open. The Smokies are all out at some accident on the interstate, and all local roads in or out are low-volume. You are cleared to operate.”
“Roger, Blue Five, I have you so noted, and out.”
Silence. Tick-tock, tick-tock. If a bird cried, I did not hear. If a cloud masked the sun’s radiance, I did not notice. If the wind rose or fell, the temp rose or dropped, the shadows deepened or softened, I did not care.
“Blue Leader, I heard a car door slam.”
“Good work, Two. Go to guns, fire on my fire. Stay ready, Blue Five.”
Four simultaneous “Rogers” crackled out.
“Blue Team, I have road dust rising.”
I could see him, Blue Team Leader, all cammied up like a beast from the bog with a ludicrous green-brown face and a full canteen, leaning in to the machine gun. I could see it alclass="underline" the car suddenly visible in the trees, then it’s there, in the bright sun of the kill zone on the straightaway, coming right at Blue Team Leader.
“Blue Team, on my fire,” Blue Team Leader said, and the radio picked up the ripping sound of the one and then the three other light machine guns joining as they emptied their one-hundred-round belts into the automobile.
CHAPTER 23
As the green tunnel of trees absorbed them, Richard babbled away happily.
“Boy, that was great, really, this is going so well, we’re contributing something, we will be adding something to our understanding of history, we will make some, maybe a lot, of money, it’s all coming together, and the best thing is we get along, we like, we respect, each other, and it will continue to–”
Swagger hit him in the mouth with his elbow. Richard’s head bolted back, his hands flew to his wound, and his body posture seemed to collapse as all strength left and he became instantly senile. The blow loosened some teeth and opened a two-inch gash that spurted blood down Richard’s chin.
“Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing? Oh, God, that hurt, you madman, what is–”
“Shut up, Richard,” said Swagger, halting the car. “Now tell me. Who’s behind this thing? What’s his name, where is he, what’s he get out of it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” yelled Richard through a snaggle of loose teeth and two hands attempting to stanch the blood flow. “Why are you doing this, God, you hurt me so bad, I never–”
“Richard, about three hundred yards down the road, we pull into some sunlight, and about five or six guys with machine guns are going to shred this car and anybody inside it. I will clonk you again and let you stay here while they do their job. They will kill you dead as hell. Or you can scurry back to Marty’s and hide in the basement with that fat blowhard. You got one second to decide.”
Richard needed only half a second. “I don’t know. No names. He’s rich, powerful. He talks to me via satellite phone. I report, I get instructions. It’s all professional, top-secret, well done. I have no idea who he is.”
“Not enough, Richard.”
“I don’t know a thing about killing. It was represented to me as some kind of stock maneuver, some high-end Wall Street thing. They want to get a house to publish the book, then they’ll expose it as a fraud, the stock of the house collapses, they buy in and use the leverage to pick up a whole cluster of related companies from a guy they’ve targeted. That’s all I know, I swear.”
“Give me the phone, Richard.”
Richard reached into his breast pocket and came up with a satellite phone with its stubby, folded aerial and handed it over, fingers shaking wildly. “You push one; it’s a direct line. He’s running it himself, but I don’t know anything except he knows everything and he pays very, very well.”
“Okay, Richard, get out of here. Lock yourself in and don’t come out until the state cops arrive and get you. Cooperate with them from the get-go, or you will spend the rest of your life as someone’s boy toy in the Connecticut pen.”
“Who are you?” Richard cried.
“I’m the man with the nails. And this is the day I nail all you guys. Now get the fuck out of here.”
Richard hit the dirt running. He vanished in seconds, not that Swagger noticed. He got out himself, dipped into the looming woods, and came out in seconds with a dead branch about fourteen inches long.
He drove along at twenty, no rush, no hurry, controlled the whole way. The car followed the curve of the road, which followed the curve of the hill, and before him, he saw the darkness of the canopy give way to a blast of sunlight as the trees fell back from the road for a bit. About thirty yards out of that zone, he halted and took time to precisely regulate the wheel, checking to see that the front wheels were locked straight ahead.
He climbed from the car and hunched beside it. He wedged the branch against the seat, saw that it was a little long, pulled it out, and snapped four inches off. He re-wedged it, lowered the unsecured end to the gas pedal, took a last look, and pushed the branch down against the pedal, driving it forward perhaps two inches and holding it there. The car accelerated as he spun away, and whack, caught the rear of the door-well across the back of his right shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
He rolled, found his feet, and began to race down the road as the car hurtled forward.
He heard the firing, one and then three more guns, so loud that they drowned out any sound of metal shearing or glass shattering. The guns roared on for a good three seconds, then quit abruptly.
Swagger turned left and slid through an opening in the trees, but before him, he saw only more trees, all of them vertical against the slope of the hill. Up was the only way to go.
“The seven-six-two did great,” said Blue Two, the first to reach the wreckage. “Unfortunately, there’s nobody here.”
“Shit,” said Blue Leader. “Any blood?”
“Don’t see any. Just blasted upholstery and a million pieces of glass. He set the accelerator with this.” He displayed the branch.
“Okay,” said Blue Leader. “The car couldn’t run far like that, so he set it up fifty or so yards down the road. He got off the road, he’s running hard; the question is up or down.”
“We going after him?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” said Blue Leader. He pulled up his throat mike. “Blue Five, this is Blue Leader.”
“Roger, Blue Leader.”
“We have a running target. I want you to vector to our kill zone, then look to the south, and I will pop smoke. Orient on the smoke, then deploy your FLIR. I have to know which way the bastard is running and if he’s got a team in there waiting for us.”
“Roger that, Blue Leader.”
“Okay, dump the ghillies, this is high-speed stuff.”
The team collectively shook itself free of the cumbersome branch-and-leaf constructions that had obliterated their human shapes. Now they were in digital cammo, sand-and-spinach-pattern, a weave of forest colors and shadows.
“I want intervals of thirty yards,” Blue Leader barked, “and if Five gets him nailed and it’s all clear, we will pursue. If there’s heavy opposition, we’ll bug out. This is a kill, not a war.”