Foreign and Domestic: A Get Reacher Novel (24 page)

“And I doubt your bad eyesight came on overnight. No way. They test you before letting you have a gun. And the Army would’ve tested you before that. So your vision might be bad, but I don’t think it’s that bad. And I don’t think you were so unlucky for your whole career and then, all of a sudden, lucky enough to
stumble
upon all of those clues. Not by yourself.”

Cord said, “Graine, what the hell is this?”

Cameron said, “And one more thing. How did Raggie get taken in the first place?”

Lucas started to shift his footing. His face twitched, and his eyes closed tightly. An expression that Cameron had never seen before came over his face. It must’ve been utter betrayal or intense disappointment or both. Cameron wasn’t sure. Lucas swiveled and spun one hundred and eighty degrees faster than most young men could have. His MP5 was now trained on Graine.

Lucas said, “How could you?”

“Guys! I don’t know what he’s talking about! Come on!” Graine said.

Cameron said, “A fourteen-year-old girl who surfs and was attacked by a shark is a girl with a lot caution and street smarts. She’s not going to be very trusting. No way would she have been tricked into getting into the car of a stranger. No way. Everyone knows it—even her mother, a distrustful person by nature. I don’t think she let her Raggie go out alone to meet her friends. I think she thought that you would go after her. That you’d watch over her like you always had. But this time, Raggie didn’t come back. So what’d you tell Mrs. Rowley?”

Graine stayed quiet.

Cameron asked again, “What did you tell her? Did you tell her you were sorry? Did you blame it on your bad eyes? On your incompetence? These people trusted you with their lives, but you aren’t obligated to protect them, are you? Because you’re not Secret Service. You aren’t good enough to be an agent. You’re not like Cord. And you’re not like Lucas. That’s why you betrayed them, isn’t it?”

Graine kept his gun pointed straight ahead. He didn’t shift the target from Lane. He let go of the underside of the barrel with his left hand and lifted his hand slowly back to his face. Not too fast—he didn’t want Cord or Lucas to pull their triggers. He touched the frame of his glasses and blinked a few times as if straining to stare through the thick lenses. Then he jerked them off and tossed the glasses into the grass. They landed three yards from Cameron.

Cameron looked at Graine. He thought,
Stop! Drop! and Roll!

Graine said, “You guys always got all the good shit. Better ranks! Better pay! Better lives! I was always the odd man out.”

“No! Why?” Cord said.

“Listen to me! I’m telling you!”

Lucas said, “But you’re one of us!”

“Do you know how much I make a year?”

Cord asked, “So this is about money?”

“It’s a lot of money. A
huge
bonus with you included.”

Cord said, “You were never going to let us get her back?”

“Of course I was. I’m not a monster. It had to be believable, but Raggie will be fine. But not that bastard president!”

“Why? What did he do?” Cord asked.

“He’s out there campaigning and giving speeches while guys like us are dying and doing the heavy lifting. Isn’t that a good enough reason? Does that satisfy you?”

Cord said nothing.

Graine said, “But really, for me, I guess it’s the money—or maybe the chance to do something. I don’t care about the politics. Just the money. I’m old, and an old man deserves at least a taste of the life that should’ve been his when he was young.”

Lucas couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled the trigger on his gun, but nothing happened. It wasn’t like in the movies where a guy pulled a trigger and there was an audible
click
. There was no click.

The MP5s that Graine had handed over to them had been fully loaded. That wasn’t the issue. If you wanted to trick someone into thinking their gun was loaded and operable, you didn’t take the bullets out. As anyone with gun experience knows, a gun without bullets is easily detectable. An unloaded gun is much lighter.

Graine said, “Sorry, old friend. I took out the firing pin.”

Cord lowered his MP5 and tossed it to the ground.

Graine pointed his gun at both of them, waving it back and forth between the two.

Cameron had no idea what feelings or thoughts were going through Lucas’s head, but he imagined they weren’t good. And he felt stupid for not seeing this earlier.

Lucas said, “Let Raggie go. She’s not a part of this.”

Graine said, “That’s not up to me.” He set the selector on the MP5 to semi-auto and pulled the trigger in two quick successions.
Pop! Pop!
Two bullets fired from the gun. The first hit Lucas in the neck.

Cameron watched as a red mist burst from the back of his neck, a cloud of blood and tissue and veins.

The second bullet would’ve been a dead on headshot, but because Lucas’s head whipped back as it hit, and it ended up hitting the right side of his face. Another misty red explosion burst into the air.

Cameron didn’t Stop! Drop, or Roll!

Chapter 35

INSTEAD OF REACTING LIKE HE WAS ON FIRE,
as Cameron had been trained to do as a kid, he bent his knees and glanced quickly at Cord.

Cord was a good agent with excellent training. He was prepared to die for his leader. That was a reality hammered into each Secret Service agent long before they were allowed within a hundred yards of the president. And maybe Graine had been rejected because of his unwillingness to do just that. Cameron remembered how much Li had wanted to become an agent. He remembered how important it was to her—like life or death. Missing the test had been the end of her world. No question about it.

The only conflict of interest that would ever affect Cord’s judgment was deciding between whether to take a bullet for the president or for a member of his old Special Forces team. Taking a bullet for Rowley wasn’t a question. And taking a bullet for Rowley’s daughter wasn’t a question. But would Cord take a bullet for Cameron? That was something Cameron didn’t want to learn the answer to, but he got the answer anyway when Cord did take a bullet.

Graine shot Lucas, who was now on the ground fifteen feet from Cameron. His body twitched, and he gagged. Blood pooled under his body like a spilled pot of tomato soup. After the two shots at Lucas, Graine swiveled and aimed in Cord’s direction. Graine had fooled both of his friends, and he’d faked his intentions and his abilities.

Cord didn’t use his mind to make his split-second decision—he did it instinctively. His reaction had a mind of its own. It was probably a maneuver he had tucked away in the large deck of maneuvers he’d trained his body to do in all likely scenarios that he might encounter protecting the president. He knew that his MP5 was most likely as useless as Lucas’s had been, so he went for the SIG Sauer holstered on his hip. But rather than drawing it quickly and firing at Graine, he turned toward Cameron and threw the gun at him.

Graine had left the MP5 in semi-auto function so he had to pull the trigger every time to fire a bullet. He pulled three times in rapid succession.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The spent brass flew out of the ejection port and bounced off the ground. The bullets flew in Cord’s direction.

Cameron made a dive toward the gun as it overshot him and flew past toward the tree stump.

The first bullet caught Cord in the shoulder. The second one missed him. And the third nailed him in the chest. His vest caught it, but it still hurt like hell. He grabbed his chest as soon as he hit the ground, forgetting at first about the first one that had actually penetrated his upper shoulder until the pain hit him.

Cameron rolled, grabbed the SIG Sauer, and scrambled to the tree.

Graine fired after him but missed on purpose. He didn’t want to damage him. He hadn’t been paid yet for his capture.

Lane shouted, “Don’t shoot him!”

Graine said, “I know! I know!”

Cameron knew that Lane hadn’t brought his guys, or at least they weren’t in the house. The whole thing had been a setup to make it look like they were going to be ambushed from the front when the actual plan had been for Graine to ambush them from behind. If there had been guys in the house, they would’ve come out blasting by this point. Of course, this didn’t mean that Lane’s backup wasn’t somewhere nearby. If so, they’d certainly heard the gunshots. If Cameron was going to get away, he’d better not wait any longer.

He hugged close to the back of the large tree stump. He didn’t look back but wondered if Cord had survived Graine’s bullets.

Graine said, “Cameron! Come out!”

Cameron stayed quiet and released the clip from the SIG Sauer, checked it. It was fully loaded—thirteen rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. Fourteen rounds from a handgun versus an MP5 plus Graine’s sidearm. He didn’t know what the second weapon was, but he was sure it was something reliable. Probably a Glock. And Lane probably had a gun somewhere within reaching distance. And then there were Lane’s guys, who were probably on their way and carrying who knows what kind of guns.

The odds were not good, and they’d only get worse.

Graine said, “Come out, Cameron! There’s nowhere to go!”

Lane said, “Wait!”

Cameron couldn’t see what they were doing, but he knew.

Graine said, “Come out! You’ve got ten seconds.” And then he started to count out loud. “Three. Four. Five.”

Cameron slid down the tree and peeked out over his right shoulder, a quick glance at the drive up to the house and then back. He saw Lane holding a gun about forty yards away, moving parallel to Cameron’s position and trying to get a look at him from the north. Graine was exactly where Cameron had feared he’d be. He stood over Cord, his MP5 pointed down at him.

“Seven. Eight. Nine.”

On
ten
, Graine did nothing. He paused and waited till what would’ve been eleven, and then on twelve, he pulled the trigger. Just once. One quick gunshot. He didn’t even look down at Cord. He kept his eyes on Cameron’s position.

The bullet plugged another area on Cord’s bulletproof vest, and Cord screamed in agony. He didn’t speak, just wailed in pain.

Graine said, “Okay! Five seconds this time!”

Cameron closed his eyes. Thought about what he’d have to do to get to Cord.

Lean out over his right side. Take aim. Fire two shots. Hit Graine.

Two rounds to the center mass was what he wanted because that was the most likely target he could hit with only one second of aiming. Then he’d pull back to the tree, wait one second longer for Lane to return fire. Maybe a second and a half, depending on how good Lane was with a gun. And Cameron was pretty sure he was plenty good. If Rowley’s description of Lane was any indicator of his ability, then the best case scenario was that Lane had been an average special ops shooter ten years ago. If he was out of practice, it meant that now he’d most likely be slightly better than poor because shooting is a perishable skill. However, even with deteriorated skills, he’d still be able to hit a target as big as Cameron at that range.

Worst-case scenario was that Lane had picked up right where he left off after prison and had spent the last year practicing. Maybe he’d even improved. That meant Cameron could be in real trouble getting into a firefight with an ex-Special Forces soldier hell-bent on killing Cameron’s father, someone he just happened to look like.

Graine started to count again. “Five. Four.”

And suddenly, Cameron’s odds got significantly worse because a Range Rover came barreling around the corner and down the street, its high beams bright and pointed straight at Cameron. He reached up with his hand to block out the light. He was sure that the occupants in the truck weren’t on his side. Lowering his gun, he stayed tucked behind the tree.

The Range Rover hopped the curb and skidded in the grass like a dramatic scene from a bad movie. Four guys jumped out. Mercenaries from the looks of them. Two had M9 Berettas and the other two had MP5s. No suppressors.

The one driving popped out fast. He hit the dirt and scrambled around to the hood. He extended his arms across the top of the truck and pointed his M9 at Cameron.

“Drop it son!” he shouted in a thick, British accent. He didn’t repeat himself. He was confident. Cameron figured he must be the wrangler out of the bunch, the guy behind the guy. He was probably the Second Lieutenant.

Looking over his left shoulder, Cameron saw that Lane had made a half circle around the tree and was now pointing his gun at Cameron’s head from a distance of twenty-five feet or so. No chance he was going to miss his aim, no matter how little he might’ve practiced his shooting skills. Even in the darkness, there was still plenty of city light on the horizon that it wasn’t completely black. And the bright lights from the Range Rover had Cameron lit up like a spotlight on a stage. There was no way out, and he knew it.

He tossed the SIG Sauer to the ground and stayed standing.

Grant screamed, “Get down!”

Cameron stayed quiet and didn’t move. He kept his hands by his sides.

Lane said, “Do as he says!”