Justice (9 page)

The tight straps
dug into Maddock’s wrists and ankles, and rough pine bark itched his back where the tail of his shirt had ridden up. Sterling, similarly trussed, sat facing him, her face expressionless. He cast a
sidelong glance at Bones, who leaned against a tree about ten feet away. The big Cherokee glowered at their captors.

“I can’t freaking believe we let these idiots catch us. It’s like the varsity just lost to the chess club.”

Jamison stepped toward Bones, and his measured tone sounded more threatening than loud shouts could have. “Bonebrake, do you want a gag added to your restraints? We can arrange that.”

Maddock thought Bones looked genuinely offended. He said. “Forget the gag, Jamison. What do you and Wright want?”

“We’ll take the journal, for starters.”

Sterling piped in. “What journal?”

“I was wondering when we’d hear from you, Lieutenant Sterling. I just didn’t think you’d insult my intelligence by playing dumb.”

Bones chuckled. “She’s just trying to speak your language. If she used long sentences, we’d never be able to communicate with you.” He shook his head. “Come on, do you honestly think we brought it with us? We’re just bird-watching. Did you know the scientific name for a lot of ducks begins with
anas?
”

Jamison’s face tightened for a moment. “We turned your vehicle inside-out and found the books on codes and ciphers. We know you have the journal. Where is it?”

“It’s gone. I read it and then destroyed it,” Maddock said.

“So I can kill these two?” Jamison inclined his head toward Bones and Sterling.

Maddock wanted to kick himself. He seldom spoke without thinking things through, and this was an example of why.

“If you want my cooperation, you’ll keep your hands off of all three of us.” 

Jamison cracked a sliver of a smile. “We could extract the information from you, but I figure you can stand up to interrogation, and I’m in a hurry. Tell you what. I’ll keep you all alive. How long can you watch me cut pieces off of your best buddy before you give in?”

“Start with my junk,” Bones said. “I can afford to lose several inches there.”

Jamison’s smile spread. “Let’s see how much of that bravado is real. Where are the knives we took off of these two?”

Sterling broke immediately. “I have it.” Her face turned beet red as all heads turned toward her. “But it’s hidden, and you’ll never find it.”

Jamison stepped closer to her. “I’m not certain that’s true, Lieutenant. I doubt you care about your two companions here, but I’ll bet you have someone you wouldn’t want any harm to come to. No one is safe from the Sons.”

Sterling’s face going pale was visible even in the scattered flashlight beams. Her eyes targeted Jamison until he finally looked away. Then she spoke again. “Do what you need to do, Jamison. We’ve got all night.”

Jamison turned to his men. “Did you frisk these three?”

“Frisk?” one man replied.

Jamison rolled his eyes. “If the book’s not in the car, then one of them has it on their person.”

In unison, the men cast nervous glances from Bones to Maddock, then back to Bones, before moving toward Sterling.

“Don’t touch me you perverts!” She struggled as Jamison hauled her roughly to her feet. He waved his men away and gave her a brisk pat-down. He froze as his hand reached the small of her back, a triumphant smile creeping across his face. A moment later he held the journal in his hands. “That’s settled, then.”

Maddock tensed. What would Jamison do to them now that he had the journal, and was there anything he could do about it?

Jamison nodded at one of his men, who started jogging down the double-track dirt trail into the darkness. Then he allowed his eyes to roam across the three captives. “As much as I’d like to go ahead and kill you, Ms. Wright wants to speak to you before I do too much damage. We’ll be going for a ride very shortly. For now, on your feet.”

He reached for Sterling and pulled her up. She wobbled a bit, but managed to stay standing despite the bonds around her lower legs. Jamison did the same thing to Maddock, who launched himself forward at Jamison as soon as he was on his feet. Jamison easily moved out of the way, allowing him to crash face first into the ground. Maddock spit out some pieces of gravel and felt warm, sticky blood flowing across his nose as he shifted onto his side.

“Shall we try that again, Maddock? If you do the same thing, I assure you the result will be the same.”

He hauled Maddock back to his feet. One of his men picked up Sterling and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She thrashed wildly about, but a sharp blow to the kidney caused her movement to subside. Maddock and Bones were too heavy to carry in a similar fashion, but moments later, a low rumble and the flash of headlights announced the arrival of one of Jamison’s minions driving a four-wheeler. The men shoved Maddock and Bones into the back and hauled them away.

The journey ended at a faded white Mercedes Sprinter van. The back was already open and a ramp extended from it to the ground. Jamison had come prepared. What Maddock still couldn’t figure out was how they had been found. Surely he’d have noticed if they’d been followed along the way.

The cargo straps loosened and two pairs of hands grabbed his limbs and lifted him with a jerk. He braced himself, expecting to be tossed into the back of the Sprinter. What actually happened was worse. They folded him in half with his bound shins touching his head, and wrapped another restraint under his arms and around his ankles in a figure-eight. As they carried him up the ramp, he had no chance to generate any power. They secured him against the wall of the van with two tight straps which seemed designed to hold appliances.

A minute later, Sterling and Bones were secured against the opposite wall in a similar manner, although she remained in a seated position unlike Maddock. The only positive he could take was that his position allowed him to see his companions. He couldn’t picture how they would escape, but he knew he needed to plan as if it would happen and maybe an opportunity would present itself. After the men had driven the four-wheeler up the ramp, parked it inside, and departed, he spoke to them in a whisper.

“Can you get loose?”

Sterling moved her wrists and ankles, looking for weaknesses. “Not my feet for sure. My wrists have a little play, but I’m not sure what I can do with them behind my back. I’m guessing you two are out of luck.”

“You could say that. We got out of a lot of tight spots in SEAL training, but never bound quite like this.

Jamison and one of his men stowed the ramp and the closed the back door of the Sprinter. With no glass between the cargo area and the front, Maddock, Bones and Sterling found themselves in near-complete darkness.

Then the door opened again and one of Jamison’s other two men jumped up into the back. The scowl on his face and the tension in his shoulders told the story of what he thought about having to ride in the back with them. Maddock had to hand it to Jamison, though. Leaving them back here unsupervised carried too much of a risk of them getting loose, no matter how well they were secured.

A gun appeared in the man’s hand, some sort of automatic pistol from what Maddock could see.

“Listen you three, I ain’t allowed to kill you. But nobody said anything about roughing you up. Anyone tries anything, they get a bullet in the leg. Are we clear?”

Almost as if by agreement, none of them responded verbally, but they all nodded. Apparently satisfied, the man tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and closed the back doors. Then he flicked on a flashlight, walked to the front wall which separated them from the cab, and lowered himself to the floor. From this position, he could easily see all three of the captives.

“What’s your name?” Sterling asked.

“Steve. But it’d be best if y’all don’t do much talking.” With that, he placed the flashlight on his lap, angled so that it cast enough light for him to keep an eye on all of them.

The van started moving, slowly at first, bumping over what Maddock knew was the dirt road on which they had entered. Soon the ride smoothed out as they reached the paved road. Maddock turned his head toward Bones, wondering if he should risk conversation. Bones beat him to it.

“Yo, Steve, I gotta ask. Was your mama as ugly as you or did that come from the other side of your family?”

Steve’s face tightened and his hand went to his gun. Maddock knew what Bones was doing; heck, Steve probably knew what Bones was doing, too. It was a dangerous game, but Maddock knew with certainty Bones would continue.

“No answer, huh? Well maybe you never knew your father, so you don’t know the answer. Still, if I looked like you I think I’d make it my business to find out.”

Steve got to his feet and pulled out his gun. Despite the rumbling of the wheels beneath them, Maddock detected no wavering in the man’s hand. “You’re a beat away from having an extra hole in you.”

Bones met his eye with a glare that seemed almost comical given how trussed the big man was. “You’re telling me you’d shoot a guy tied up like this just for making a couple of comments? Man, you must really be scared of me.”

To better view the action, Maddock twisted his head to the side as much as possible. Steve took a step closer and then knelt so his head was down near Bones’ head. “Scared of a man who got caught by a stampede of pigs? I don’t think so. But I’d still have no problem shooting--.”

With a lightning movement, Bones struck Steve’s forehead with his own. Both the gun and Steve dropped to the floor. Maddock could recall when they had learned this move in SEAL training, the ability to headbutt someone with little or no momentum from three inches away. It required tremendous neck strength, and Bones had seemed a natural.

Bones blinked a few times and then grinned. “Like taking candy from a baby. A baby with a really hard head.”

Maddock smiled back. “That was awesome. For your next trick you get loose, right?”

“Sorry, man. No way these are coming off. But at least we don’t have to watch that guy sulk for hours.”

“He’s gonna wake up at some point, though. Or they’re gonna stop and check on us.”

Sterling said, “We may not have to worry about that.”

They both turned to her. She held up one hand, which she had managed to free. “I pulled the old “angle the wrists” trick when they tied me up. They were so concerned with subduing you two bad-ass sailors that they didn’t pay enough attention with me.”

Maddock said, “When were you gonna tell us?”

She chuckled. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“I told you she was worth hanging around with, Maddock. Free me next, Sandra.” Bones said.

It took only a matter of minutes before they were all free. The knots were excellent, but far from impossible to work with two free hands.

Bones picked up Steve’s gun and examined it before shoving it in his own waistband. “A Beretta. Not perfect but it could be worse.”

Sterling glanced around the van, which was still illuminated by the flashlight. “So how do we get out of here?”

Maddock put a hand on the cart and allowed a smile to gradually envelop his face.

“We wait for the van to slow down at a corner, and then we fly.”

For just a
second, the four-wheeler appeared to defy gravity as it launched out the back of the van. With the van traveling about forty-five miles an hour, Maddock knew the illusion would be short lived. He had no idea what would happen when they hit the pavement, and he mashed on the accelerator in an attempt to add stability.

The jolt was even worse than he could have imagined, the impact sending burning pain up his spine and down his limbs, but he knew it had to be harder on Bones, seated in the small bed on the back. Bones had wanted to drive out the back himself, but Maddock had won the day when he pointed out that the move was his idea. Sterling sat next to him, both buckled in with the most rudimentary of straps.

Now the cart bounced what felt like ten feet in the air but was probably no more than a few inches. Upon landing, it shifted onto only the left two tires, and Maddock threw himself across Sterling while wrenching the wheel to the right. This succeeded in regaining full contact with the ground, but at the expense of starting a spin.

He considered the standard advice to steer into a skid and concluded that the admonition never anticipated this maneuver. Instead he fell back on two far more instinctive actions. He slammed on the brake and prayed.

He had no idea which of the two was more critical, but the end result was that they came to a stop, still on the blacktop. They were facing back toward the disappearing Sprinter, which had not yet shown illuminated brake lights in the darkness. It was just possible that Jamison had no clue about the escape.

“Hang on.”

He said this mostly for Bones’ benefit as he did a one-eighty and accelerated. Step one was to put as much distance as a possible between himself and the van. Step two was find a decent size cross road to take. Then another one, to create more options for pursuit than Jamison could chase down. The cart appeared to have a top speed of about twenty-five, which is plenty fast on the golf course but death when trying to escape from one hundred-fifty horses of internal combustion.