THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO (17 page)

“Yeah,” she said. “But make it quick. I’ll keep a lookout.” She moved away from the wall and in front of the door to shield Eli from any unwanted eyes. It only took him a few seconds before he’d finished.

“Okay,” he whispered, standing up. “You ready?”

She nodded and signaled she would go in low. She used her fingers to count to three and pushed in the door.

They went in quick and quiet. It only took a second to realize they were too late. The body was lying on the bed with a pillow covering the face. A single bullet hole showed through the pillow.

Megan reached for the pillow and pulled it away from the face. Immediately she felt her heart sink.

“Peterson.” It was Eli.

Megan threw the pillow against the wall. “Why couldn’t he just do what he was told? Why didn’t he just—” She kicked the small end table.

Eli reached out and grabbed her arm. “Hey, this isn’t our fault.”

Megan pulled a chair out from the table along the wall and sat down. “I know. It just hacks me off, is all. I mean, we told him. ‘Stay out of it,’ we said.”

They both remained silent for a few minutes. Finally Megan spoke up. “So, if he’s dead…and we were with Hayes last night…how do you suppose he ended up this way?”

Eli shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say Peterson sent us after Hayes on purpose.”

“You saying Hayes was just a ruse? That he’s not involved?”

“Didn’t say that. What I mean is if Peterson sent us after Hayes, it was because he had a lead on something better.”

“Pemberton.” Megan smacked her hand on the table.

“Probably.”

“Got to call this in. Jennings is not going to be happy.”

She retrieved the sat-phone from her pocket and dialed the number.

“This is Director Jennings.”

“It’s Taylor, sir. We’re here.”

“And?”

“And…looks like Peterson didn’t do like we asked him to. He’s dead, sir. Single gunshot to the head.”

Jennings was quiet for a few seconds. “I was afraid of that.”

“So you knew?”

“No…I didn’t know. I figured. The guy that called me works the night shift there. Company guys have used that motel for years. He’s always been a kind of Johnny-on-the-spot for us. He knows just about every operative that’s been there for the last thirty years. Guess he either saw or heard it. Then he called me…I called you…and…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“So what do you want us to do now?”

“Call the locals. Then put the scene back the way you found it and get out of there.”

“You don’t want us to wait?”

“You want to be there for the next nine hours answering questions?”

“Not exactly.”

“Good. Then I want you to go see the front desk manager and tell him you want to talk to Fred Vargas. He’s the night guy I told you about. Go find out what he saw. Or heard.”

“Got it. Any word yet from Jon?”

“None. Go find Vargas. I want to know what got Peterson killed.”

K
eene pushed himself up onto his knees and looked back at the gate. The entire thing had crumbled into a pile of twisted chain-link fence and rubble. Dust and smoke were quickly filling the air from the wreckage.

Keene knew that they had successfully taken out most of the guards. The .50 caliber machine gun had wreaked havoc on the Chinese barricade and its men. But there were still a few stragglers. And reinforcements would be there soon, if they weren’t already pulling in. He had to act quickly. The cab of the truck was exposed and Boz was a pinned target—if he wasn’t already dead. He began to say a prayer as he pushed himself the rest of the way up onto his feet and began running to Boz.

Boz was slumped forward, lying on the steering column. His face was awash with blood, leaking from what looked like a fresh wound to his forehead—probably from slamming headfirst into the steering wheel.

Keene grabbed the door handle and pulled. Nothing. The door was jammed. On the other side of the rubble, he could hear what was left of the CG barking orders to one another.
It will only be a matter of seconds before they come over that pile
, he thought. He raised his leg and placed his foot on the rear fender beside the driver’s-side door for leverage. Then with every ounce of strength he could muster, he pulled on the door. The door began to creak and grind as it protested but finally gave way. Keene threw it open and reached inside to grab his friend, who was coming around.

He’d just gotten Boz out of the cab when he heard the first of the guards coming after them. He slung the SKS rifle he had draped over his shoulder around, holding Boz with one arm and the rifle with the other. Without looking, he took off, dragging Boz and firing the SKS blindly behind him. Though they were in the middle of the road, the tree line for the mountains was on either side of them. If he could just get to cover, he was sure he could get them both out of there.

Suddenly, a loud whooshing sound came from around the bend in the road. Then an explosion of massive gunfire. Keene had just reached the tree line when he saw the source of the attack. A wave of relief washed over him as he watched a Black Hawk helicopter come from out of nowhere and open fire on the Chinese barricade. Quickly, he picked up his friend again.

“Let’s go! Our ride is here.”

Keene threw Boz’s arm around his own shoulder and began running to the Black Hawk, which had landed in the middle of the road. Four men had jumped from the helicopter and were laying down cover fire. Keene pushed Boz up and into the waiting chopper and then jumped in after him. The four men, now that their assets were secure, retreated back into the Black Hawk just as it was lifting off again. In moments, the bird was in the air and headed east.

Keene smiled a huge smile as he recognized his rescuers. The men he’d spent an entire night with, carrying out a mission to stop Chin from launching a nuclear device on Washington, were sitting before him.

“Took you long enough, Ramirez!” Keene shouted over the wash of the rotors.

“Foust couldn’t find his good luck teddy bear!” Ramirez laughed.

Foust, who was reaching out to shake Keene’s hand, gave Ramirez a
hardy-har-har
sarcastic laugh. Then to Keene, “Good to see you, sir.”

“You, too,” Keene said. “Thanks for the ride.”

Foust, Ramirez, Kirkpatrick, and Jenkins were four special ops guys that Keene had handpicked for the mission in Massena. The four of them had successfully managed to stop what could have been the complete annihilation of the United States during the Chinese attack. It was there that Keene had left his men and followed after Chin.

Keene introduced the men to Boz, who had fully come around, while Jenkins looked over Boz’s injuries.

“You’re going to feel it for a few days, but you’ll live,” Jenkins said.

Boz nodded and thanked him.

“Does Jennings know you guys are here?” Keene asked. “ ’Cause Chin is going to be livid!”

“Who do you think sent us?” Kirkpatrick said.

“Isn’t he worried that Chin will retaliate?”

“Guess it was a risk he was willing to take,” Ramirez answered.

“What’s our ETA to Washington?” Keene asked.

“About two hours,” Ramirez said. He threw Keene a small bag wrapped in plastic. “We figured you two would be hungry.”

Keene unwrapped the plastic to find two cheeseburgers from his favorite fast-food place. He handed one to Boz and looked back at Ramirez. “You have no idea!”

M
egan and Eli were parked outside the residence of Fred Vargas. They’d gotten the address from the day manager, after Megan reluctantly showed him her ID. They then told him the local police would be showing up—there had been an accident in one of the rooms—and he was to keep staff out of the room until the locals got there. Megan wondered how long that directive actually lasted—since she and Eli had bolted before he could ask any more questions.

Vargas’s house was a ranch-style. Probably constructed in the early 1980s. She could tell from the design—the pinkish-brown brick, the turnaround drive connected to the covered breezeway that led to the two-car garage, and the fact that the house showed several years of weathering. A single, older-model Toyota sat parked outside the garage.

“Well, this is it,” Megan said, putting the shifter in P
ARK
. “Let’s go.”

They got out of the car and went to the door. They knocked. Nothing.

“Probably asleep,” Eli said. “Guy worked all night.”

This time, Megan balled her fist and pounded heavily on the door. After a few seconds, she could hear someone moving around inside. Finally, the door opened up, revealing an older Latino gentleman. He shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight spilling in at him.

Megan stepped forward. “Mr. Vargas?”

“Yeah. Who are you?”

“I’m Megan Taylor. This is Eli Craig. Kevin Jennings sent us to talk to you. May we come in?”

Vargas stuck his head out the door and looked around. “You alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

He motioned them inside and closed the door behind them. “Sorry the place is a mess. Maid comes next week.”

Both she and Eli smiled at the old joke. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Vargas. We won’t be long.”

Vargas motioned for them to sit. “So I guess the guy in room 119
was
one of yours?”

Megan nodded. “His name was Peterson.”

Vargas hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Aw, man… What was Peterson doing down here? I haven’t seen him in like…twenty years.”

Megan didn’t try to hide her surprise. “You know him?”

“Yeah…I know pretty much all you spooks who used that place. Peterson was a nice guy. Shame.”

“Why didn’t you tell Jennings it was him when you called?”

Vargas shrugged. “Didn’t know. I went into the room, saw the body lying on the bed—with the pillow and the blood—and I just got out of there. Didn’t touch anything.”

Megan was confused now. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vargas, I guess I missed something. Why would you call Jennings? Why not the locals? What made you think it was a Company guy?”

Vargas nodded. “Because I’ve seen hits like that before.” Vargas cleared his throat, which spun into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he said again. “Can I get you guys something to drink?” He stood up and walked into the kitchen.

“We’re fine.”

Vargas returned with a giant orange plastic cup and sat down. He held the cup up for them to see. “My wife—God rest her soul—used to get onto me about these cups. Said they were an eyesore. Always used to ask me, ‘Why can’t you just use a glass glass like everyone else?’ But I’ve had this here cup for almost fifteen years. It’s my favorite—”

“Mr. Vargas…you were saying…about Peterson?”

Vargas snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Peterson. Right!” He shifted in his seat, took a big gulp of whatever it was he was drinking, and set it down on the little table beside his recliner. “So last night, the front desk calls me in my office. Says someone’s complaining about their heat. Won’t come on.” Vargas shrugged his shoulders. “I’m thinking, it’s not even cold. It’s nice outside for this time of year. Why do you need to turn your heat on?”

Megan squinted and looked at Eli who just shrugged.

“Sorry…rambling again. Anyway, I grab my tools and head out. And that’s when I noticed the car sitting across the parking lot at the Quick Mart.”

“What car?” Eli asked.

“Same car that was there had been sitting there for nearly an hour. Had someone in the driver’s side. Couldn’t see who, though.”

“What’s the car got anything to do with anything?” Megan asked.

Vargas looked at her like a father about to scold his daughter. “Ms. Taylor, you spend enough time around your kind and you learn to notice things. Things like a rental car with someone in it, just sitting in a parking lot and watching a motel.”

“How do you know it was a rental?”

“Had one of those company license plates on the front. Avis, or Enterprise…couldn’t make it out. Too dark. But that car was sitting there when I went up to fix a light fixture in 229 earlier. And then, when I went to go fix that heat unit, it was still there. That job took me about twenty minutes. When I left the car was still there, but the driver wasn’t.”

“What kind of car?”

“Typical rental. Silver, base-model sedan.”

“Did you see who was in it?”

“Not then. I went back to my office to put my stuff away. Then I got a craving for a candy bar. So I went back out to the vending machine—which sits back in that little cove by the front office. That’s the only thing bad about a
motel
versus a
hotel
. Everything’s outside. I had just taken my shoes off and gotten comfortable when it hit me that I wanted that candy bar—”

“Mr. Vargas, please…”

Vargas smiled at her. “Sorry. Rambling again…Anyway, I went to the machine. And wouldn’t you know it, the thing ate my money. Now, those things are managed by a third party, so I can’t get in to them. But I really wanted that candy bar, so I decided to go over to the Quick Mart.”

Megan was beginning to think she and Eli were wasting their time. “Mr. Vargas, I’m not sure I understand how any of this is important to Peterson.”

Vargas held up a finger. “I’m getting to that.” He took another drink from his cup. “Now, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years from hanging out with you spooks, it’s to be suspicious of random cars that stake out motel rooms and then just leave. So, after the car was out of sight, I walked down that side of the rooms and just looked around.”

Megan was sitting up in her chair again. “And?”

“And that’s when I saw the door to 119 cracked open. So I knocked. No one answered, so I knocked a little harder this time. When I did, the door pushed open a little more. And that’s when I saw it—Peterson, I mean.”

Eli tilted his head and scrunched his brow. “But when we got there this morning, the door was shut.”

Vargas drew in his mouth. “Yeah…I might’ve closed the door behind me when I left.” Then, hurriedly, “But only to make sure that no one else would go in! Then I went back to my office to call Jennings. But I couldn’t get ahold of him until right before I left to come home.”