The Standoff Page 22

  All at once, a little out of sync, a little out of unison, the men answered him.

  “Death.”

  “Death. That’s right.”

  Abel turned to the guys near the porch.

  “Clean this up.”

  Tanis asked, “What do you want us to do with him?”

  “Just dump him in the back of the barn somewhere, like garbage.”

  Tanis and Cucci both left their guns on the porch and scrambled over to the body.

  Abel looked up at Brooks again.

  “Back to it then, Major.”

  Brooks snapped to and barked out the order to the others like they were deployed.

  “Get to steppin’, boys!”

  With that, Cucci and Tanis heaved up the dead body and hauled it away inside the barn. Flack held the door open for them. They dumped Dobson into an old, snowy horse trough, tucked away at the last stall.

  Jargo returned to his sniping post. Brooks looked down at Abel again and waved at him. Abel looked up.

  Brooks said, “I know where we can get some new wheels.”

  Abel called back up to him.

  “Where?”

  Brooks raised a gloved hand slow and pointed east.

  “There’s a farm there. People living in it. They got a truck.”

  “Big enough for us?”

  “It might be now we’re down one. Some of us can sit in the back. Or maybe they got an extra vehicle. We can take two.”

  Abel grinned up at him.

  “Want me to go check it out.”

  “Not yet. Soon. Clean up this mess first.”

  Chapter 28

  A DONIS RODE in Shep’s cruiser for almost an hour along more backroads than she thought would be in such a small radius. They went slowly, circling back, turning left, turning right, going up and down one street that connected to the next. They scanned the empty roads methodically until they were no longer empty. By this time, there were trucks driving the roads here and there and an occasional car. They saw several SUVs. There were local people going to work, going for supplies, or just passing through. It was getting too hard to track them all.

  Adonis had to pray that Abel would get caught at one of the roadblocks because at this point, she was losing hope that he was still within the dragnet at all. But it was Shep who voiced it first.

  “We’ve missed them.”

  “No we haven’t. They’re here somewhere.”

  Shep reached up and tapped on the clock on the dashboard. The time was nine twenty-five in the morning.

  “It might be too late. We should get the FBI on this.”

  “They already know what’s going on.”

  “Why aren’t they here yet?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, but she turned her ringer off in her pocket. She knew the FBI was already in Carbine. Her CO had texted her. Technically, she was off the case. They were officially off the books now. No point in telling Shep or her guys that. If they got caught they could have plausible deniability and just blame her for it.

  Adonis wasn’t planning on taking Abel in. She was planning to take him out.

  “Don’t worry about the Feds. We’re our own, for now.”

  Shep said nothing to that.

  Adonis shifted in her seat. She leaned to the left and stared out at more abandoned farms and trees and snow and half-empty roads.

  She said, “Let’s just keep going. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Shep continued driving. Ramirez continued scouring the skyline. And Adonis looked back out the window. She kept it together, but she knew that hopelessness was barking around the corner.

  THE LOFT’S SHUTTERS STAYED OPEN, but Jargo and Brooks crouched back inside in the darkness. The barn doors were closed, hiding their broken-down panel van, Cucci and Tanis and Flack were in the barn near what used to be horse stables, and Dobson’s corpse, which was discarded in a back corner per Abel’s instructions.

  Abel was in the farmhouse. The candles were long extinguished, not that it would’ve made a difference at nine o’clock in the morning. It was no longer dark enough outside to allow the light to be seen anyway.

  Jargo kept his sniper rifle back away from the loft’s hole to keep it from being spotted. But he kept it ready to pull up and take aim and fire if he needed to. The others were holding their weapons, ready to defend the pipe bombs, the packages, and Abel at all costs.

  After Cucci and Tanis and Flack dragged the corpse into the barn, they heard a buzzing sound from above. A second later, Jargo spotted a helicopter in the sky, buzzing the trees and the road.

  He called out to the others. Cucci and Tanis dragged Dobson’s body all the way in past the van and dumped him. Flack pulled up the rear and shut the barn doors.

  Abel came on over the radio, “What’s it doing now?”

  Jargo slipped his sniper rifle down and leaned into the inside corner of the windowsill so he could get a better angle on the helicopter without being detected.

  He stayed where he was. He didn’t take his eyes off the bird. But he raised his hands and gave Brooks a few hand signals. Brooks watched them and then talked on the radio.

  “The bird is searching for something.”

  “Who is it? Police?”

  “Hard to say. We count three onboard.”

  “Three? That’s it?”

  “Yeah. Three.”

  Abel asked, “Maybe FBI?”

  “Wait.”

  Silence. Jargo held up a stop hand signal for Brooks to see. Everyone waited. Jargo lifted the sniper rifle and gazed through the scope, but he wasn’t looking up at the helicopter. He was staring down at the road.

  He scanned the road and turned, like he was following something.

  He lowered the rifle and then stepped back to Brooks. He took the radio and spoke.

  “Sir, there’s one police car on the road. It’s a state patrolman. I count two inside.”

  “Patrolmen? You sure?”

  “Yeah. Between the helicopter and car, there are five bodies total.”

  “Patrolmen? I never heard of them using helicopters before.”

  “It might not be state patrol alone. The passenger in the car is a woman. She’s not dressed as any state patrolman I’ve ever seen before.”

  “What’s she wearing?”

  “She looks like FBI to me.”

  “Then she might be.”

  Brooks took the radio from Jargo and pressed the talk button, held it up to his mouth.

  “The FBI would send a lot more than five people.”

  Abel said, “Flack, come in.”

  Flack’s radio crackled low on his belt. He picked it up and spoke.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You get anything on the police radio earlier?”

  “I’ve heard nothing about a helicopter. But I haven’t listened to the radio for a while.”

  Abel asked, “Is it possible the neighbors called the cops?”

  Brooks came on over his radio.

  “That’s probably it, sir.”

  Abel stepped up closer to the kitchen window and pulled the blinds down. He stared up in the sky. He could hear the rotor blades echoing over the treetops. Then he saw it. Everyone stayed quiet. He watched the helicopter fly over and out of his line of sight. Both the helicopter and the police cruiser were gone.

  After another minute passed, Jargo came on over the radio.

  “I got a better look at the riders in the car. They stopped at the mailbox for the neighbors across the street. They looked like they were contemplating driving down it, but they didn’t. They drove off.

  “And there’s something else. The woman in the passenger seat looked to me like she was calling the shots. She kept pointing and talking over the driver.”

  “Interesting.”

  “And she had bandages on her forehead.”

  “Bandages?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Boys, we still got an ATF agent alive and well. Seems she’s after
us. And I would guess she’s on her own.”

  Brooks came on over the radio this time.

  “She’s got four guys and a helicopter.”

  “The ATF, FBI, and all the rest of the Washington pawns are just like the Army. When it comes to operations, they might skimp on the body armor and bullets, but not the manpower and machines. We blew up a hundred of their agents; they are gonna send a helluva a lot more than just a girl and a helicopter after us. Trust me.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means for her this is a personal endeavor. She’ll try to take us on her own.”

  Abel was quiet until another thought popped into his head.

  “Brooks, perhaps you should find out about that truck across the street. After they pass, why don’t you pop over there?”

  Chapter 29

  B ROOKS APPROACHED the mailbox at the end of the long drive and studied it. It said Cherokee Hill Farm on it. No family name given.

  He made a note to himself and turned and stared back at the abandoned barn in the distance. He couldn’t see Jargo, but he knew he was there, watching him through the sniper rifle’s scope. He waved and held up his radio.

  His radio crackled and hissed.

  Jargo spoke through an earpiece with a coiled wire going down from his head to Abel’s radio that he’d lent to him.

  “I see ya.”

  Brooks held the radio to his mouth.

  “I’m entering.”

  “Okay. I’m gonna lose you as soon as you get ten feet farther up the track.”

  “Acknowledged. Going silent then.”

  Brooks waited for Jargo to give him an affirmative, which he did. Then he killed the radio and slid it into his coat pocket. It fit snuggly enough to keep from creating a visible puff in his coat.

  He looked left and looked right, then brandished a Glock from a hip holster at the small of his back. He checked it, made sure a round was chambered, and then reholstered it.

  Brooks walked the drive, making mental notes of everything he saw. He walked past huge trees near the front and then up the hill and over the crest. He stopped. He noted the Christmas trees and the snow. He noted that there was heavy farming equipment out in the fields, far off in the distance to the east. They sat unused, like long-forgotten machines. He noted the same to the west. He also noted no signs of farmhands. No signs of animals.

  He walked the long track farther until he passed through some trees on a corner and then he saw the farmhouse. He stopped at the base of the circular driveway and studied the house. He studied the red brick, the white door, the barn off to the side and the vehicles.

  Smoke plumed out from a chimney on one side.

  He noted the two trucks and one vehicle under a tarp.

  The one Tundra was perfect for them, but now they could commandeer two, which was even better.

  Brooks walked off to the east, away from the front door and watched the windows. He wanted to see how alert the people inside were that a hulking black man, a stranger, walked their property this close. He looked at every window. Not one blind flapped. Not one curtain ruffled. Not one eyeball peeked out.

  He was also looking for family pets, like a big dog or a pair of big dogs. He hated dogs. They made for the most dangerous kind of an alarm system a homeowner could own. Alarm systems can be disabled silently. Dogs make all kinds of racket. Alarm systems aren’t dangerous. They don’t attack intruders. They can’t break human bones. They don’t have teeth.

  Many guard dogs can break bones. He knew a dog handler in the Army who told him that one of their German Shepherds could break the bones in a man’s arm in seconds.

  The Cherokee Hill Farm had no dogs. He was sure of it because he saw no paw prints in the snow. He saw no dog toys left in the yard, no dog houses, and the house had no doggie doors that he could see.

  Brooks wanted to be as sure as he could so he started whistling quietly. He kept his gun hand behind him, ready to go for the Glock in case a couple of dogs came running out of nowhere to see what the whistling was about, but nothing happened. No dogs. No windows moving. No one came out of the house.

  He returned his hand to his side and scoped out the corners and tops of the house. He saw no security cameras, but he wasn’t expecting any. He also saw no signs of an alarm system, which didn’t surprise him. Way out here, what good would an alarm system do other than make a lot of noise? They were too far for an alarm company to send someone out.

  The area was rural, which meant that most likely it was policed by sheriff’s deputies from the county, a large territory for them to cover. It wasn’t likely that he had to worry about that.

  The one thing he was positive he would find was that a few of the males who lived here would be more than proficient with rifles and shotguns and maybe even AR-15s, but he wasn’t worried about that.

  Brooks took off his ball cap and stuffed it bill first into his back pocket to make himself look more trustworthy.

  He cracked his fingers, frontward, and then backward. The knuckles cracked. He walked past the trucks and stepped up onto the front porch.

  He could smell coffee and something else, something mouthwatering. He took a deeper whiff. His brain told him it was bacon.

  He walked up to the big, white front door and listened. He heard no one shuffling to the door, but he heard muffled voices deep in the house.

  He stepped to the side and peered into the closest window. He saw nothing through the blinds and the curtains but obscured shapes and shadows.

  After closer inspection, he was certain they had no alarm system. No wires lined the interior of the window. He saw no sensors.

  The door had a doorbell, but he didn’t ring it.

  He stepped back to the front door and knocked, light, at first, to test the sound. No one came. He knocked a little louder. No one came. He knocked one more time, louder. Then he heard sounds like voices that had been talking lively and now stopped for the interruption.

  He stepped back and paused.

  A moment later, he heard footsteps getting closer. There was more than one set of feet. The footsteps stopped.

  He was sure that someone was on the other side of the door, looking through the peephole. Then he heard voices speaking and arguing like one person was asking someone else, Hey, you know this guy?

  He reached up and knocked again.

  He heard a female voice speak.

  “Open it. Don’t let the poor man stand there.”

  The doorknob creaked, and the door opened slowly.

  It wasn’t even locked , he thought.

  The door swung all the way open, and he was greeted by three members of the White family. He stared and smiled at them.

  Abe stood front and center. He had opened the door. Behind him was Abby, and behind her, about five feet back was Walter.

  Abe asked, “Yes, sir? Can I help you?”

  Brooks smiled, looked down the hallway into a large open living space. He saw a kid come around the corner and stare back at him. He saw no one else from that spot, but he heard another female voice speaking in the living room.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, kind folks. My partner and I are lost back there on the road.”

  “You’re lost?”

  “Yes, sir. There aren’t a lot of street signs out here.”

  “Where’s your car?”

  “Oh, sorry. I should’ve said, we’re lost, and our car broke down.”

  Abby stepped from around her husband and spoke.

  “Oh, dear. What a terrible place to be stranded in.”

  Abe said, “You should call somebody.”

  Walter said, “Where’s your phone?”

  “I don’t have a phone. My partner does, but we got no signal.”

  “Oh, dear,” Abby said again.

  “Where’s your partner?” Walter asked.

  Brooks saw skepticism on his face and on the older man’s face. He figured they were father and son because of how much they looked alike.
<
br />   “He’s waiting with the car back on the road. He’s a little paranoid about leaving it alone. We’re not from around here.”

  “Do you need to use our phone?”

  “Oh, that would be so nice of you.”

  Abby turned and went back into the house and disappeared. Abe and Walter stepped out onto the porch with Brooks.

  “My name’s Abe. This is Walter, my son.”

  “Jim Nelson.”

  Brooks stuck out a huge gloved hand for the two men to shake. Abe shook it first and then Walter.

  “So sorry you got stuck out here,” Abe said.

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  “Where you guys headed?”

  “We’re driving up to DC. My partner just went through a divorce. He’s relocating up there.”

  “You’re helping him move or something?”

  “Nah, I’m tagging along. My sister lives there. It’s kind of a road trip for me.”

  Walter asked, “Where you guys from?”

  “Atlanta.”

  “Oh, boy,” Abe said, “You didn’t get far.”

  “Nope. We didn’t.”

  “What you guys do?”

  “For a living?”

  Abe nodded.

  “Real estate. We’re investment partners.”

  They were quiet for a moment.

  Maggie stepped out from the living room and wrangled her son from staring at the stranger.

  Brooks watched them vanish farther into the house. Then Abby came walking from the kitchen. She had a cell phone in her hand. She walked down the hall and out onto the porch through the opened door.

  She handed an old, but well-maintained flip phone to Brooks.

  “Here you go.”

  “Thanks, ma’am.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  He took the phone and studied it.

  “Something wrong?” Abe asked.

  “I was just thinking; I haven’t seen a flip phone in years.”

  “It works. That’s all I need,” Abby said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’re not calling long distance? They charge for that.”

  Walter said, “Mom, nobody charges long-distance anymore.”

  Abe said, “Not unless he calls out of the country.”

  “I’m not. Don’t worry. I’ll give this right back.”