Talkin' Jive Page 15

  “Of course.”

  It was time for more torture noises. Dale screamed again. Bloodcurdling. And at the end he added, “Mother of mercy!”

  Sonya shot him a look.

  “‘Mother of mercy?’ Really?” she said as she untied the last loops around his right arm.

  She had a point. Dale was in a constant struggle to control his smartassery, even in tight situations. His big mouth was his biggest shortcoming. It got him into tons of trouble.

  Dale stood up. He rubbed his forearms where the cords had been and glanced at the wound on his leg. It was small, but a bit of blood was seeping into his jeans.

  Sonya stepped closer to him. She had that sincere look in her eyes again.

  Dale was a good judge of character, and he was almost never wrong about people. But when he was wrong, he was colossally wrong. The times when he’d trusted people he shouldn’t have usually ended very poorly.

  Still, there was something about Sonya that felt genuine. Real. Even though she’d tried to kill him. Even though she’d gotten suckered into Asa Hendrix’s schemes. Dale’s gut told him that she wasn’t evil, that she was just misguided.

  “I’m going out on a limb with this,” Dale said, “but there is one other way you can help. Hendrix has something planned for tonight, something aside from the attack on Y-12. I can’t stick around here trying to find out what he’s doing. There’s a trap set up for my friend, and I have to warn him. So I need you to find out anything you can about what Hendrix is doing tonight.”

  Sonya nodded quickly, the expression on her face growing even more sincere.

  “I can do that.”

  Dale leaned past her and let out another bloodcurdling scream.

  He then went to the filing cabinets at the back room and retrieved his Model 36 from one of the top drawers, where he’d seen Hendrix put it. He clipped the holster to the back of his jeans, went to the window, unlatched it, and pulled it open.

  He stuck a leg outside, paused, and looked back at Sonya.

  “Now here’s where I see if I can really trust you.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Becker walked through the darkened trees, M16 hoisted to his chest.

  Everything was quiet, dark, and still. Peaceful.

  He headed toward the light source in front of him, about a half mile away. Hendrix’s resort cabin, a blazing glow in the darkness.

  He checked to his left and right and saw his men, evenly spaced, all wearing the dark fatigues, all pushing forward with him toward the light.

  One of the men dropped to the ground, face first.

  A loud sound broke through the quiet. The crack of gunfire.

  Flashes of light. More gunshots. His men were firing back.

  Becker darted to the nearest tree, crashing through the undergrowth. He planted his back against the trunk.

  Two deep breaths. He put his finger on the trigger and looked around the tree.

  Ahead, barely visible in the darkness, were figures moving his way. Coming from the direction of the cabin, descending a hill. More gunshots. Small flashes of light.

  Becker saw another one of his men get hit. His arms flung violently out into the air before he dropped to his knees, then to his face.

  Ahead, a few more of his guys were navigating through a pair of half-fallen trees, crisscrossed against each other. Beyond that, about twenty feet away, were two of Hendrix’s men, headed their direction.

  Becker stabilized his M16, pressing the stock into his shoulder. Fired. One of the Hendrix men fell to the ground. The other fled.

  More gunshots. Men shouting at each other. Quick, frantic motions all around him. Screams.

  Becker watched as another of his men dropped. And another.

  He scanned the forest, breathing hard. And it only took him a moment to make his decision.

  “Fall back!” he shouted to his men. “Fall back!”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Asa heard gunshots in the distance. He smiled. The fun had begun outside. The sounds were muffled by the cabin’s massive timbers, which would also serve as a more-than-adequate layer of protection from any errant bullets.

  He gazed into the lighted mirror in his green room and adjusted his shirt, aligning the buttons with his zipper and evening up the cuffs. Cody stood beside him, as vigilant as ever.

  “I heard some nice screams coming from the office,” Hendrix said. “Sonya must be working Dale over good. Who’d have thought she’d turn out to be so ruthless?”

  “I knew she’d do well,” Cody said.

  Asa shifted his eyes slightly and looked at Cody’s reflection. A dark desire came to him. He smiled.

  “She’s doing well, all right. Last night, in my room … Wow.” He chuckled a little, feigning amazement. The truth was, though, Sonya had been only a mediocre lay. “And you were the first guy she was with, yes?”

  Asa kept his eyes locked on Cody’s reflection, but Cody avoided looking back. He stared to the side.

  He nodded. “That’s right.”

  “You popped her cherry. Man, oh man. Lucky guy.”

  Asa continued to stare at him. Cody’s eyes remained downcast.

  “You know the thing I like about her, Cody? Those nipples. Perfect little circles. So small. And pink. Not like those brownish ones you see so often. Actual, true pink. Like little strawberries, aren’t they? Mmm, taste like strawberries too.”

  Cody still wouldn’t look at him. He hadn’t turned away from whatever he was focusing on to avoid Asa’s gaze. His eyes glistened.

  Asa had hurt him with those last words, those intimate secrets about Cody’s first love, that image he’d conjured in the kid’s mind of how Asa had discovered those secrets mere hours ago, in the very same building in which they stood.

  Asa had hurt him bad.

  Which was the intent—using the power of language to continually beat this most important follower of his into complete submission. Cody needed absolute subservience from his assassin, so he continually put Cody in his place. With words. Words that said one thing to the ear but something entirely different to the soul.

  I own you, you piece of shit, they said.

  Hendrix switched his attention back to his own reflection. He smiled a large, welcoming, confident smile. And then turned for the door.

  “Come on,” he said.

  Cody followed.

  Asa threw open the door and saw the group waiting for him on the dais.

  “Gentlemen!” he boomed with a confidence matching the million-dollar smile on his face. “Welcome.”

  A group of six men stood near the podium. The Colombian, the Cuban, the Mafioso, the Arab, the separatist. And Ulan Lebedev. Sinister-looking guys in mismatched clothes and mismatched skin.

  Despite the big smile he’d given them, they looked at him with alarm.

  “Hendrix,” the Cuban said. “We hear gunshots. What happens outside?”

  There was a particularly loud burst of gunfire just then, close to the cabin. The men jumped, looked toward the entrance.

  “Now don’t you worry about that, fellas,” Asa said as he breezed onto the dais and started shaking hands. “Like I told you earlier, we’re well protected. Just some pests in the trees. I got my boys out there taking care of it. We’ll have this cleared up long before the meeting starts.”

  Asa waved his hand grandly at the stage surrounding them.

  “Friends, this is were the magic happens,” he said. “Where I give all the speeches. You’ll have a front-row seat, of course, and you’ll get a little taste of the influence I have over these people. And when Cody here leads them off to complete their task at Y-12 later tonight, you and I will be conducting our business elsewhere, at the Cherokee Building.”

  Nods of approval among the guests. They glanced at Asa and each other with subtle, sly grins. Snickering.

  Cody turned to Asa, confused.

  “There’s no Cherokee Building in Oak Ridge,” he said.

  Asa shook his head an
d looked at the other men, ignoring Cody.

  “Can you believe this kid? You can’t get good help these days. Am I right?”

  The men chuckled.

  Asa turned on Cody, still smiling but with a vicious look in his eye.

  He couldn’t believe Cody’s audacity, questioning Asa like that in front of the distinguished guests. Clearly Asa hadn’t done as good of a job brow-beating Cody as he’d thought.

  “Needn’t you worry, Cody Ellis,” he said. “You have more than enough to concern yourself with at Y-12. Leave the Cherokee Building to me and the adults.”

  The other men chuckled again.

  Cody cowered away from Asa’s stare.

  Then Asa noticed something.

  Movement. At the opposite side of the living room.

  He turned just in time to see someone disappear around a corner.

  It was Sonya.

  And she’d been watching.

  Asa knew immediately that something wasn’t right.

  He turned to Cody. He’d seen her too.

  Asa faced the others. “You fellas go ahead and make yourselves at home. You’re our guests of honor. There’s food in the back. Help yourselves.”

  He looked at Cody again.

  “Please excuse Cody and me. There’s something we need to attend to.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Dale crouched down and went to the far end of the porch, taking out his Model 36. He positioned himself safely behind one of the large, vertical timbers supporting the porch’s roof.

  There were more gunshots from the forest, cracking through the cold air. Shouting. It sounded like a skirmish in a war film.

  He looked out to the trees.

  Past the bright lights of the parking area, there were flashes in the darkness. Muzzle flare.

  He squinted as he tried to make out what was happening.

  Finally he spotted someone close to the tree line. A man, crouching low, moving west. He wore dark, SWAT-style fatigues. One of Becker’s men. Behind the man, creeping closer to him, was another man, this one wearing civilian clothing and holding a .22.

  Becker’s man hadn’t noticed.

  Dale catapulted over the porch and sprinted through the brightly-lit parking area, losing traction for a moment in the gravel. He plunged into the trees.

  He took aim with his Model 36 and fired. The round hit Hendrix’s man in the ass. The man fell over, screaming. Dale ran up to him, and before the man could react, Dale placed a boot across his jaw, knocking him cold.

  Dale crouched down, positioned himself behind a trunk. More gunshots in the distance. He looked out into the trees.

  And then a pair of hands grabbed him from behind.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Asa and Cody rushed into the office.

  There was no one in the room. The green leather chair was empty, and the electrical cords were scattered on the floor beside it. The soldering iron was unplugged. The window was wide open.

  “Shit!” Asa said. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that little bitch. I should have never taken your advice.” He grabbed Cody by the shirt and shook him hard. “This is your fault, you goddamn idiot!”

  He pushed Cody to the side and looked at the open window again.

  “She let Dale go. The spy is out there, Cody!”

  He took a breath and thought. For only a moment. There was no time to spare.

  He turned back to Cody.

  “Get your rifle.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The gunshots were constant. Some nearer, some farther away. To Sonya, it sounded just like the gun range Cody had taken her to sometimes when they dated.

  She stood at the corner of the cabin, squeezed against the wall, only occasionally peering out to the forest, where the firefight seemed to be occurring. The shots were so loud. And it was so cold. Her arms and legs were goose-fleshed.

  She stole another glance around the corner. Past the bright lights of the gravel parking area she could see figures moving through the darkness of the trees. Lots of them. Firing weapons.

  One of the figures she recognized. At the tree line. It was Dale. He was with another man. Dale was on the ground, and the other man stood above him. With a gun. Dale’s arms were held above his head. They were speaking to each other.

  Was Dale bargaining with the other man? Pleading for his life, perhaps?

  No matter what was going on, Sonya knew she had little time to spare. She had to get to Dale now. She had information for him. And he was in trouble.

  There were gunshots all around her, and for a moment it paralyzed her where she was. She was unarmed. Unprepared. A battle raged only yards away from her, and she was in a minidress. Her mind began developing excuses, comfortable reasons why she should avoid doing the noble thing.

  She silenced those thoughts.

  She was sick and tired of fear.

  There was danger. She knew this. But she also knew that she had done a lot of harm in the last twenty-four hours, sent a lot of negative waves out into the universe. And now she’d been positioned in this precise spot at this precise time for a reason. She needed to do the right thing.

  There was movement to her left, on the porch. She turned.

  Hendrix and Cody exited the cabin. Cody held a massive rifle in his hands.

  Asa spotted her.

  A wave of anxiety rushed over Sonya.

  And she ignored it.

  She had a mission to accomplish. She had information she had to get to Dale.

  She locked eyes with Asa.

  Then she took off into the open, sprinting toward the tree line.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Dale looked into the face of an assassin.

  When he’d last seen Marcus Sloane, in downtown Knoxville, the man had worn a clean, contemporary ensemble fitting of the cityscape. Now, in the darkened forest, Sloane wore a pair of green, military-style fatigues. And when he’d violently flipped Dale onto his back and aimed his rifle at Dale’s head, he’d also been wearing a look of rage, one that told Dale the man wanted to kill him.

  But once Dale quickly addressed Sloane by name and told him he was with the BEI, Sloane’s expression changed to one of stunned confusion.

  “The BEI?” Sloane said. His voice was deep but also wispy, the kind of voice you’d imagine a python to have. He paused for a half moment. “Oh, god, that means you must be Dale Conley.”

  Dale nodded.

  “Of course,” Sloane continued. “Maddox went to you when he ran out of friends in the CIA.”

  “Right. Now will you get that goddamn gun off me?”

  Sloane let out a breath, lowered his rifle.

  “What was Maddox onto here, Agent Conley?”

  “Something huge. Steeger and Hendrix were working with the Russians. They’re going to attack Y-12 tonight.”

  “Jesus Christ …”

  “I need your help, Sloane. When—”

  Dale stopped. Because he’d heard a voice over the gunshots. Screaming. Coming from the parking area.

  Dale and Sloane both looked.

  It was Sonya.

  She ran at full speed, barefoot, through the deep gravel, stumbling every few feet, heading toward Dale. She had her eyes on him, and she waved her arms in big arcs.

  “The Cherokee Building!” she screamed. “The Cherokee Building!”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Asa crouched with Cody on the cabin’s front porch, watching as Sonya sprinted through the gravel toward the tree line, waving her arms, screaming.

  “The Cherokee Building! That’s where it will be!”

  She was running toward two figures at the forest’s edge, just visible by the light from the parking area.

  One of them was Dale.

  Asa grabbed Cody’s shoulder and shook him hard.

  “What are you waiting for?” he snapped.

  Cody looked up at him. His mouth was open. Fear in his eyes. He’d never looked more pathetic to Asa. He slowly, re
luctantly brought the big rifle to rest on the handrail, aiming it toward Sonya.

  Asa boiled with impatience.

  “Do it! She’s trying to warn him.”

  Cody hesitated.

  “She’ll blow this whole thing for us. Shoot her!”

  Cody still hesitated.

  “I said shoot her, god dammit!”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Dale watched as Sonya ran toward him. He rolled over, got into a crouching position.

  “The Cherokee Building!” Sonya screamed.

  Dale saw movement behind her, at the cabin.

  Hendrix and Cody were on the porch, crouched behind one of the vertical timbers. Cody had the same high-powered rifle he’d used to cleave Maddox’s head. Its scoped barrel rested on the porch’s handrail.

  The gun was aimed at Sonya.

  Dale yelled out to her. “Sonya, go back!”

  She kept coming, still screaming.

  “Tonight! Hendrix is going to the Cherokee Building tonight!”

  Dale stood up. “Go back!”

  “The Cherokee Building! He’s going—”

  CRACK!

  The rifle was so loud it drowned out all the other gunshots.

  Sonya jolted forward, eyes wide, a massive wound to her stomach. She dropped.

  It was different from when Maddox had been shot. Less horrific. Maddox’s face had been torn from his head, but Sonya’s stomach wound, while also massive, was cleaner somehow. More graceful. There was something almost artful about it all. The fist-sized hole was perfectly round and fell perfectly in the center of her abdomen. A spout of blood cascaded into the bright, artificial light, twisting and glistening. She collapsed gracefully, slowly. There was a shocked but peaceful look on her face in the moment before it smashed into the gravel.

  Dale started toward her, but Sloane grabbed him by his jacket, pulled him down to the ground just as a bullet tore through a nearby trunk, spraying them with chunks of bark and wood.