Blind Faith (40 page)

"And it's high up, just like the Thundergod legend. That's where he'll be," Caitlyn said grimly. "You leave Hal to me. Just get to those bombs, there were four on the map. I'll keep him busy as long as I can."

Sarah bounced the Volvo onto the dirt track leading down to the dam. They cruised to a stop at the caretaker's cabin.

"He'll know we're here," she said, killing the engine.

"He'll know
I'm
here," Caitlyn replied, reaching up to turn the dome light off. "That's what I'm counting on. Wait for me to get clear of the car then you sneak over to the dam wall, start on the bombs."

Sarah watched as Caitlyn crept out of the car. The FBI agent was hidden by shadows for a moment, then appeared on the other side of the cabin, bathed in the radiant moonlight. Despite her injuries, she walked tall, proud.

Sarah slipped out of the car and hugged the shadows cast by the cabin as Caitlyn waltzed through the grass, calling Hal's name in a singsong.

Then Sarah realized that Caitlyn wasn't calling Hal. She was calling to the Thundergod, He-noh.

Sarah crawled on her belly through the short expanse of moonlit grass that lay between the rear of the cabin and the shadows below the dam. Caitlyn had told her Hal had four bombs planted along the dam wall. She started at the far end, searching through the dark shadows until she found the first.

He hadn't even tried to conceal it. It was a mound of clay-colored bricks with several wires leading to an electronic receiver and some blasting caps. Sarah reached out her hand, then yanked it back when she realized it was trembling.

Her breath left her in a whoosh and she felt lightheaded. All she had to do was to pull the blasting cap away from the C4. If Hal triggered the bomb, the blasting cap would still explode but it wouldn't do any serious damage. As long as Sarah wasn't holding it when it went off.

She squinted her eyes, double checking where the blasting cap was inserted into the putty-like explosive. Piece of cake. Just a little tug and...she sat back, suddenly holding the detonator in her hand.

It was easier than she had dreamed. Able to breathe again, she threw the detonator as far away from her as she could. It landed in the grass with a soft thud.

She crawled through the darkness searching for the next bomb. One down, three to go.

Sam lurched forward, trying to block Kosakov's aim of Julia. The Russian merely smiled and sidled to his left, the gun in his hand pointed directly at the girl. She'd started for the door, stopped when she realized she couldn't make it without getting shot.

"Smart girl," Kosakov said. "Friend of yours?"

"She was just helping me out of a jam," Sam said, keeping his voice casual as he slumped against the counter top near the cash register. "Let her go."

He realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. Kosakov raised an eyebrow. "You giving me orders now, Stan?" He crooked his little finger at Julia. "Come here, little girl. Get comfortable. We'll be here a little while."

"Why?" Sam said, as Julia took a hesitant step forward then stopped again. "Don't you want to get out of town before the cops come? Anyone could pass by these windows, see you with a gun and call them."

"Ever hear of a police scanner? The cops and most of your town are searching for a lost girl. From the description, I'd say it's your friend here. They won't be back for awhile." He smiled at Julia. "Long enough for us to get acquainted."

Julia crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her breasts from the Russian's rapacious leer. While Korsakov ogled her, Sam closed his fist around a napkin dispenser. "Julia, run!" he shouted, hurling it at Korsakov.

The Russian fired, hitting Sam in his injured leg. He pivoted to fire again, but Julia was too fast, she'd darted out the door and vanished in the night.

Sam grabbed onto the counter, fighting to remain upright. He didn't feel anything—the pain from his broken ankle had already overwhelmed him. Blood spread out over the lower thigh of his jeans. Suddenly he wasn't sure which way was up and he slowly toppled to the ground.

"That was stupid, Stan," Korsakov said, approaching him and placing an Italian clad foot on his wound, pressing down to both stop the blood flow and inflict as much pain as possible. "As always, you were trying to take the easy way out. You thought I would kill you quickly, that you would die an easy death."

He crouched down until his face filled Sam's vision. "Sorry, old friend. That's not what I have in mind for you." He paused, glanced out the door as if expecting someone else to appear there. "Or your lovely wife."

Caitlyn was sore from head to toe, the pain radiating through her body all consuming as she hauled herself up the steps leading to the top of the two story tall tower. She'd done something to her left arm, probably broken it or her collar bone, she couldn't raise it at all, it hung useless at her side.

Hal hadn't fired a shot or called out any warning to stop her from joining him, so she took that as a good sign. Especially as he hadn't detonated the bombs either.

The only part of her body that didn't hurt was her head. Oh she had a few lumps and bumps, but no headache and certainly no steamroller of a migraine. In the past exertion and fatigue had been prime triggers, but she'd been relatively pain free all day.

Go figure. She grabbed the splintery wood railing and climbed another step up. She tried not to look down where the only visible object in the darkness was the Volvo. Otherwise the darkness swallowed everything except for the cascade of moonlight on the reservoir waters. The sound of the falls was louder up here and the ancient fire tower swayed with their vibration.

She rounded the last landing and took the final steps leading to the top. Hal waited there. All he had to do was to give her a hard shove and she'd fall to her death. Time to earn her salary.

Caitlyn smiled up at Hal. "I returned," she crooned, risking letting go of the railing to extend her hand to him. "Just as I promised."

His frown deepened as he stared down at her. "How?" his whisper barely carried to her. "No, it’s meant to be Lily—"

"Lily sent me," she said in a throaty whisper. "Sent me to bring you to her."

He blinked slowly. Then he reached down and took her hand. Caitlyn tensed, certain he was about to throw her off the tower. His eyes glittered in the moonlight and he seemed oblivious to everything except her.

Just the way she wanted it. He guided her up the remaining steps and pulled her onto the top landing.

"You're just in time," he said, pivoting her so she faced away from the dam and toward Hopewell.

He wore his gun in his holster but he was angled so that it was out of her reach. Caitlyn glanced around, searching the landing for any other weapons but found none. "Time for what?"

"Watch." He pressed his chest against her back, resting his chin on her shoulder so that their faces were side by side as they stared out into the night.

A bright light filled the sky, a thousand fireworks exploding. A rush of wind blasted them followed by a noise louder than a banshee's howl. The tower jerked violently. Caitlyn reached out and grabbed for the railing as the night splintered into fire.

JD watched the men pry open the gun cabinet, only to find it empty. The Colonel’s wife tried hitting the window of the inside door with a baton but all she got for her efforts was a noise as if they were trapped inside a drum.

"Probably bullet proof," the Colonel said. But that didn't stop him and JD's dad from smashing a chair and trying to punch out the window with the legs.

JD backed up out of their way. The only place to go was near the desk. He glanced down at the bomb in the drawer. It had a complicated nest of wires and components that looked like the inside of a video game. Suddenly one of the displays lit up.

"Dad?" he called out, shouting to make himself heard over the noise of their pounding. "Hey!"

The grownups all stopped and stared at him.

"It's doing some kind of count down," JD said, the calmness in his voice surprising him. He knew he was scared, but somehow he couldn't feel it any longer. It was as if he was floating, ready to accept whatever happened next.

"Let me see," Victoria said. "Oh Lord. It's counting down seconds."

"How many?" the Colonel asked.

"92-91—"

"JD, get away from there," his dad said, pulling him away. "Here, get under the bunk, it will shield you."

"What about you, dad?"

"Never mind me, just get under there. I'll cover you with the mattress."

"You too, Victoria," the Colonel ordered.

"No. Wither thou goest, so do I."

"Victoria!"

It was plain to see that no measly two-inch mattress was going to stop a bomb and no way JD was going out hiding under a bed like a baby. He stood beside his father, reaching for his hand. "I'm fine right here, Dad."

"I never told you how proud I was of you, son."

JD looked up to see tears glittering on his father's cheeks. Before he could say anything, there was a pounding on the door.

The door opened and Julia stood there. "What's the deal?" she asked holding the pressure lock in her hand.

JD grabbed her arm and pulled her away. "Just run."

Together they raced down the hill followed closely by the three adults.

Sarah looked numbly at the detonator in her hand. Had she done that? she wondered as the sky began to rain dirt and gravel down on her. In front of her, the dam trembled but did not break. Light blazed through the sky farther south.

Town. Something in town had exploded.

She shook her head, images of Sam and Julia and the Colonel at the café filling her mind. Her vision darkened and she felt faint for a moment, as if all the blood had been drained from her. She shook herself hard. No time for that. She still had one more bomb to find and disarm.

Before the same thing happened here.

Sam felt the floor heave below him and his head explode. No, not his head, he realized as cutlery and glass flew to the floor around him, peppering him with shards of glass. Korsakov was thrown off balance, landing on his back, slamming his head against one of the booths. Sam barely had time to roll over and cover his head before the plate glass window blew out. A howling wind blasted through the café, toppling stools. Crashes ricocheted from the rear room and several tables overturned. Sam couldn't hear anything over the roaring in his head.

The wind subsided and silence ensued. He raised his head. One of the pedestal tables in the booth had flipped over onto Korsakov. It wouldn't slow him down for long, but maybe long enough.

Sam ignored the pain lancing through his leg and dragged himself across the debris-strewn floor. Korsakov's gun lay just a few feet away. The Russian was already moving, struggling to haul the table off his chest. He saw what Sam was doing and a ghastly smile played over his face, lit in flickering half shadows by the single remaining fluorescent light dangling overhead.

"One thing about you, Stan. You're never boring."

Korsakov gave a grunt and heaved the table away from him. He rolled and darted a hand out for the gun that Sam was struggling to reach. Sam pushed himself as hard as he could, sliding on his own blood and grabbed the gun first.