Tactical Deception: Silent Warrior, Book 2 (35 page)

Now it would haunt her. How could she accept this? Forgive this? How could they ever go back to the way they were ten minutes ago?

She went through the motions. She used the bathroom, got dressed in the damp silk. She put on her shoes, tied them and followed Roger out of the cabin. She wanted to cry. She wanted to yell. She wanted to shout at the heavens and ask Allah why? Why did life continually twist up and tarnish everything so beautiful?

She grieved. Something very precious had been lost.

Chapter Forty-Two

Union County, Georgia

0800 hours

Roger had gone from his greatest high to his deepest low and it all could have been avoided if he’d told Mari the truth before they’d traveled down the tangled road they were on. He didn’t know what the outcome of his confession would be, but judging by the absence of light in her golden eyes, it wasn’t going to be good.

He jogged as fast as he dared, keeping in mind Mari’s pregnant state. She silently kept up with him. He’d followed the dirt road from the cabin, hoping that they’d find a form of communication. Dirt road became gravel and half a mile later, he saw a mailbox up ahead. He prayed that meant the person would have a phone too.

J. Cruthers Cabin Rentals was the name scribbled by hand on the rusted mailbox. He turned up the driveway then stopped beneath a copse of trees.

“Stay out of sight and wait here until I see if it’s safe or not.”

“But—”

“Please. If something were to happen to you because I—” He cursed. “Just stay here.”

He rounded the bend and dogs started barking, bounding off the porch to protect their territory. They were hounds, not exactly as deadly as some breeds, but he definitely wanted to avoid an unfriendly encounter.

“Stop right there! Boomer, Bebop. Hold ’em.”

The dogs stopped their attack, but kept their ground. On the porch was an old lady, white hair, granny glasses, wool socks and gingham dress. She aimed a shotgun right at him. He held up his hands. “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but I really need to use the phone. It’s an emergency; do you have one?”

“What kind of emergency?”

Roger scrambled for what to say. The truth was definitely out. “Car broke down. My wife and I need help.”

“Where is she?”

“Back down the drive.”

“Bring her here so I can see her and we’ll see about that phone.”

Roger swung around. Mari was already headed toward him.

“I heard,” she said then addressed the woman. “Can my husband use the phone?”

The woman on the porch strained forward then cackled. “Lt. Col. Weston, Mrs. Dalton, you two come on up here and I’ll give the sheriff a call. This time they won’t be callin’ me a mindless old biddy. Boys have been scouring these woods for you two all night.”

Roger stepped back and pulled Mari behind him. “Don’t move or call anyone. Tell me exactly who is looking for me?”

“Besides the sheriff and the FBI? Had several men here this morning checking out my cabins for signs that you’d been here. Names were Gibson, Santana and a Dekker, if I recollect right, and I ain’t stopped recollecting right yet.”

“Let’s go.” Roger urged Mari ahead, shocked that Rico and General Dekker had been able to track him this fast. “Before you call them, I’ve another call I have to make first.” The more he thought about how desperate the terrorists would be with their whole plan in jeopardy, the more he concluded they would act ASAP.

The lady led him to a phone. It was a rotary, but it worked. Very slowly. Technology was the force that turned the world faster and faster on its axis.

Roger dialed Paul’s personal cell and hoped his cousin would answer. Paul didn’t pick up but Sanders, assistant to the President did. “Where’s Paul?”

“Who’s this?”

“Roger. Please tell me where Paul is.”

“He’s about to join your family here at the funeral home in Gainesville. His car is expected at any minute. They’re making arrangements—”

“He can’t do it. Get everyone out of the funeral home. Do it secretly.” If the terrorists were watching, God only knew what would set them off. “Tell the President’s detail to keep on going. Do not stop at the funeral home. Do it now. Do it fast. I’ll call back.” Roger hung up. “Do you have a TV?”

“Back there.” The woman pointed to the other end of the long, narrow cabin with pine walls, creaking floors and cast iron pans hanging on steel hooks. The TV had seen its better days in the eighties, and it took time for the reception to settle. When it did, Roger got an up-close view of the President’s motorcade traveling through downtown Gainesville. The dulcet tones of the TV anchor verbally detailed every moment of the trip.

Mari joined him, quietly slipping her hand into his. He grasped on to the anchor, his gut screaming at him.

“Helicopters have been circling the President’s route since dawn. With the nation’s sniper crisis just beginning to unravel, every precaution has been made to safeguard President Anderson from attack. Grieving for his uncle and worried about the disappearance of his cousin, the President outright told the terrorists on last night’s news conference that he would not let them daunt him, or keep him from being with his family during this terrible tragedy. He’s just moments away from Barrister’s Funeral Home, where he will be joining them.”

Roger watched as the camera panned out to show the funeral home up ahead then panned back to the motorcade. “God. Please.” Mari hugged him.

“I’ve got to call again.” Roger ran for the phone and redialed, ready to pound his fist onto the rotary.

“Something must be wrong. The President is not stopping at the funeral home. They’re driving past it. This is highly unexpect—”

A loud explosion sounded.

“Roger!” Mari yelled, staring at the TV in horror.

Getting no answer, Roger hung up the phone and ran back to the television. It was hard to tell what was happening. Fire, smoke and debris were everywhere. People screamed. The camera crew was running, filming wild images of unfolding devastation to the funeral home and damage to the surrounding area.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Ladies and gentlemen. The funeral home has exploded. People on the perimeter have been injured. We’ve no idea what has happened. Can anyone see the President? What happened to the motorcade? Can we get a visual on the street?”

Roger shuddered, his gut twisting in a sickened knot. Mari fell to her knees, crying. He knew she was blaming herself. He reached down and pulled her into his arms. “Stop. This isn’t your fault.”

She shook her head.

He pressed his palms to her cheeks and forced her to look at him. “You didn’t point a gun at them and pull the trigger. Your intent has never been to harm another but to help. And you’re jumping the gun here. We don’t know what has happened yet.” He sucked in air.

The phone rang. It was the longest second of his life as he rushed to answer it. Memories of his family, his mom, his dad, his brothers, his aunts and uncles, the vacations, the Thanksgivings and Christmases, things that he’d all but forgotten all flashed through his mind and drove a stake of importance in his heart.

“Roger?” Sanders said.

“Yeah. Tell me. Tell me you got everyone out. Where’s Paul? The media coverage is chaotic.”

“The hearse with your family inside was blown onto its side. They’re shaken, with some minor injuries, but alive. I’ll have them all taken to the hospital whether they want to or not. Paul’s motorcade had damage to the surrounding cars, but his car is fine. He is fine. But they’ve requested all news crews to back off. No coverage of where the President is until he is completely secure. How did this happen? How did you know? Everything was completely secured by the secret service.”

“I didn’t know for sure. Once I escaped, I knew the terrorists would be desperate and act fast. When I learned this morning that the attack on Paul would come at the funeral, I knew he’d been in danger if he got anywhere near the funeral home. What hospital are you taking my family to?”

“I’ll text you once the secret service decides.”

Roger eyed the rotary. “That’s not going to work. I’ll call you back.” He hung up thinking he should feel relieved, but somehow couldn’t relax. There were still too many damn loose ends all over the place and all of them were live wires. He dialed General Dekker.

“Make it short.”

“General?”

“Weston?”

“Sir.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“J. Cruthers. You were here earlier today?”

“Stay put. Stay alert. I’m sending help. We’ve got shit hitting every fan from the top all the way to the bottom.”

“I know. Just spent a harrowing five minutes with Sanders. I thought they wouldn’t strike if Paul didn’t stop. I was wrong.”

“Mari Dalton with you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We have her sister in seclusion and her brother under lock and key at the hospital.”

“What about others from the camp?”

“As best as we can conclude, Mari’s father is still on the loose, along with a Salaam Meshood, the leader and two others. The rest are dead, including her mother. We’re in the process of hunting down the sniper cells in the other cities. We’ve got names, locations. It’s just a matter of time before we’ll end this insanity. Mrs. Dalton has some serious questions to answer.”

“She won’t know much. All of this blindsided her as much as it did me. She was grazed by a bullet and she’s been through hell, sir.”
The rest were dead, including her mother
. The general had bulldozed right through that fact without any consideration of its devastation to Mari. On one hand Roger understood the desperate need to stop the nationwide sniper killings and how focused the authorities had to be on that. But on the other hand, he wondered how much Mari could take.

“Weston? Did you hear me? She still needs to answer the questions. And are you sure she’s as innocent as she says? Reports are she’s been going off base to a nearby gun range. Did she play a role in your kidnapping? She could have been planted here years ago just to make this attack on the President happen. She attached herself to the team, now to you.”

Christ. Could crap get any more complicated? They sounded as if they were going to cart Mari off. “Sir, I will stake my life on her innocence and I’m not leaving her side. We’re going to the hospital to have her checked and to see my family. After that, we’ll answer questions.”

The general sighed. “In other words you aren’t going to make this easy. We’ll take this a step at a time. I’ll have the driver and guards prepared to take you both to the hospital. And you sure as hell had better be right about her involvement.”

“I am, sir.”

“And Weston? Glad you came out on top.”

“Me too. How did you find us?”

“Long story. Corporal Santana was actually the one who cracked the case, albeit the hard way. I’ll have him tell you just as soon as I can find his ass.”

“Better send me a phone with that driver and clothes,” he added. Mari’s blood-stained silk had him reliving her being shot and what might have happened to her if he’d been hurt or even if he’d been longer in getting back to her.

She watched him, worry in her eyes and he wondered how much to tell her about the general’s suspicions as he searched her gaze. What if this all managed to blow up in his face? If the SOO that had been after his ass since he, DT and Beck went rogue in Peru, got ahold of her, he’d railroad her just to get to them. Roger damn well knew terrorized people sent authorities hunting for sacrificial lambs. Blood seemed to be the only appeasement for the masses.

From the horror she expressed this morning about the danger to his family and her reaction to the bomb, he knew she had to have an inkling that things were going to be rough for her family. They’d been involved in a terrorist attack that had cost American lives and had attempted to assassinate the President. Crimes punishable by death and there would be nothing he could do to save them, other than give testimony on how her bother had saved him and Mari.

“What’s wrong? What are you staking your life on?”

“You,” Roger said. He closed his eyes and pulled her into his arms. She came hesitantly at first then pressed into him, and he hugged her tightly. “You. I’ll explain more later when we can talk.”

“Love is a many splendored thing,” the old woman said with a sigh.

He looked at the old lady. That had been a movie rife with international conflicts with a couple who were about as convoluted as he and Mari were and if he remembered right, the story hadn’t ended with a rose garden. Bittersweet. Christ he hated the word. Hated the concept. Hated the whole idea that bittersweet was all he’d ever have in life.

Damn it. What was wrong with happy?

He had no idea what Mari would do about his role in Neil’s death, or how she’d face the tragedy with her family. But as he selfishly held her to him, he hoped against hope that there’d be something more than bittersweet between them.

“You two come have some breakfast while you wait. Ain’t nothin’ in the world like a night in a cabin to work up a bear of an appetite.”

Mari blushed beet red, a reaction that gave him another sliver of hope.