No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(94)

The thermometer began to drop and Brett brought up the thermals again, knowing the difference in temperature would make the view much more stark. Inside, the same two heat sources showed up black against the white of the structure. Only now, one had moved.

He said, “Okay, got at least one target. Still think the other is a generator.”

Retro noted the information in his log, saying, “Wonder what the trigger is to call this a dead end?”

“With Pike, it’s usually some gunfire. Because he can’t stand a dead end.”

Retro started to respond when he saw lights bouncing down the dirt lane on the far side of the house. Two cars a half mile away.

He said, “Company,” and Brett traded the thermal for a spotting scope.

While the blacktop on their side of the river had steady traffic, they’d seen only a single truck on the dirt lane on the far side of the house the entire time they’d been there. He fully expected the vehicles to continue on, like the truck, but they turned down the rutted track that led through the fields to the house.

He sat up. “Call Pike. Tell them we’ve finally got activity.”

Both vehicles stopped outside the house, and ten or eleven men spilled out, carrying assault rifles. Brett said, “Holy shit. Call Pike. Tell him the trigger’s been met. Get the cavalry rolling.”






66




Seamus came inside, finding Kevin at the computer. Kevin turned around at the noise, his hands leaving the keyboard, and Seamus saw the surprise at the number of men who trundled in.

Seamus pulled the first aside and said, “You’ll sleep in the room down that hallway, on the left. The one on the right is where we’re already staying. We can take a couple more in there if it’s too crowded. I want two here in the kitchen, two at the side door, and two at the back door in the anteroom. That leaves four off. Work out your own schedule.”

The men began bringing in sleeping bags, coolers, and other comfort items. Kevin watched them work, saying nothing. Seamus asked, “Any word from Braden?”

“No.”

“Ratko?”

“No. Nobody’s called at all.”

Seamus rubbed his face and muttered under his breath, his eyes tired. The men continued coming and going around him.

Kevin said, “Something else I need to know about?”

“Yeah. Well, maybe.”

“What?”

“Aiden says there’s another reporter in the US sniffing around. A friend of the one he killed has picked up the story. He’s got an interview with someone in the administration about it.”

“But we’re close enough now it shouldn’t matter. Right? You’re going to send another Snapchat tomorrow? With the guys we have? Like we talked about?”

He sighed. “Yeah. But it’s going to be too close. Word gets out about what’s happened, and they will shut down. I can’t predict how much longer this will go on, but even one day in the news is too much. I know the Yanks. The administration will immediately start talking about being hard on terrorism and our window will close. Remember the shit storm that happened when they released that deserter Bergdahl? All the talk about dealing with terrorists? They won’t want a repeat of that in the press.”

“So what did you tell Aiden?”

Seamus looked out the window and said, “To kill him.”

Kevin remained silent. Seamus leaned forward, picking at a piece of wood on the makeshift table. He said, “Man, I didn’t want to do that. I’m being pushed into it. Fucking reporters.”

Kevin said, “We got half. Maybe we should just call it a win.”

Seamus glared at him. “No way. If Braden’s truly gone, then they’ll pay. I’ve already lost one brother to those arrogant f*cks. We hold the keys. The vice president’s son is worth more money. They won’t give in at first. One of the hostages will have to die.”

Kevin said, “Which one? The girl?”

Seamus grimaced. He said, “Yes. She’s the best leverage. Her killing gets sent, and they’ll know we’re serious.” He leaned back again, then said, “Maybe not. Maybe that whiner from Brussels. I don’t know if I can kill the girl.”

Kevin said, “Colin can. That guy has no conscience. As long as it isn’t pinned to him.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m the one giving the order. It’s irrelevant who pulls the trigger.” He looked around, then said, “Where is he, anyway?”

Kevin glanced down, embarrassed.

Seamus said, “Where is he?”

“He went out for a hot meal. I told him not to.”

“You’ve been here by yourself?”

“Yeah. But nothing’s happened.”

Seamus stood, fists clenched. “That f*ck. I’ve had enough of his bullshit. How long has he been gone?”

“He left right after you did.”

Seamus’s mouth fell open. “Right after me? I’ve been gone for hours.”

Kevin started to answer, but Seamus exploded out the door, running to the root cellar. He slammed open the wooden hatch, jumping down the stairs by the light of a small torch. He aimed it in the dank prison, illuminating only two people. He ripped off their hoods, seeing the two males. He said, “Where’s the girl? Where did she go? If she found a way out, you’ll pay the price for her escape.”