The Ninth Day (35 page)

Mono moved toward Vanderlock. He put his gun in his waistband and yanked at Vanderlock’s wrists, tying them in front with the same twine that was on the long table. Mono jerked the rope. Vanderlock grimaced. Mono tightened it more. Vanderlock’s eyes never left Emma’s face. It was as if he was memorizing her features. She stared right back, willing him not to look away. Not to see the cooler. She gritted her teeth and the thought came to her, unbidden, that it just might be her day to die. La Valle walked over to the table and swept his hand across it. Empty liter bottles, wrenches, the blowtorch and lighters flew off the top, landing on the beaten earth floor with thuds.

“Lay him down. On his back.” Mono shoved Vanderlock toward the table. He broke off staring at Emma and looked La Valle’s way. “Bring her with him. I want her to watch.”

Carlos pushed her alongside Vanderlock. Mono shoved Vanderlock backward until he was forced to crawl onto the tabletop. As he scooted onto it he looked down and saw the cooler.

His breath came out in a huff, as if someone had punched him in the gut. Mono shoved him back and Raoul tied his ankles together while Mono hauled his hands above his head, stretching him out. La Valle turned to Emma, his eyes glittering with excitement. Vanderlock swallowed once, and then turned his face to Emma, once again holding her gaze. His jaw clenched, as though he was doing his best not to make a sound, but his throat convulsed as if a scream was trying to break through.

He knows, Emma thought.

“You know what a liver sells for on the black market?” La Valle said. “I’ll take that first. His heart will still beat. The kidneys are next. The heart last.” He lifted the weapon in his hand, a wicked-looking knife that curved upward at the tip. “Bring her closer,” he said. Carlos shoved a hand against her spine. Her foot hit the blowtorch canister.

“I’m going to faint.” Emma infused her voice with panic, which wasn’t difficult, because she was so frightened that she thought she would vomit. She rolled her eyes upward, pretending to faint. She dropped her legs, moving straight down. At the bottom her hand hit the cannister. She wrapped her fingers around it and knelt on her knees, pretending that she was going to face plant on the earth. She moaned, but collected one of the lighters with another hand. She flicked on the blowtorch, snapped the lighter to life, and hit the nozzle with the fire.

A line of flame, a full eighteen inches, shot out from the metal tube. Emma ran it across Carlos’s legs on her way to grab a nearby brick. He yelped and jumped. She had the leaves in her hand and was up, backing away, holding the torch before any of the men had moved. They’d all stashed their guns while they held Vanderlock in place, but the moment they released him to draw their weapons he kicked out with his feet, catching Raoul in the stomach with the heel of his boot. He swung his tied hands down and hit Mono under the jaw. Emma heard the man’s teeth clack together with the hit. Vanderlock rolled off the table on the side away from La Valle and scuttled away, moving into the shipment bales.

Emma held the blowtorch and brick in the air. “Everybody freeze or I set the shipment on fire. You all know what happens when you inhale the smoke.” The men froze in place, but Emma didn’t. She walked backward, stopping next to Carlos, who reared away from the blowtorch and the tainted brick. Emma held the leaves out in front of her and kept the flame within inches of them. The only sound in the room was the roaring of the blowtorch.

“I don’t care, I’m a dead man anyway,” Raoul said, and he raised his weapon.

A side door creaked open and Sumner walked into the light, holding an automatic weapon. He fired, the noise assailing Emma’s ears and making her wince. A bullet hole formed on Raoul’s forehead, dead center. Sumner shot Mono next. He dropped into a crumpled heap. La Valle dove between the shipment bales. Sumner’s shot entered one and bits of leaves and twigs flew into the air. La Valle made it to the back door, using the bales as cover and was gone. Emma put the blowtorch on Carlos’s wrist, forcing him to drop the gun that he was poised to fire at Sumner. He screamed and dropped the weapon. Emma kicked it out of his reach.

“Get down on your stomach. Now!” Emma said. Carlos lowered himself to the ground, face-first. He put his hands up in surrender. Vanderlock regained his feet, standing twenty feet to Sumner’s right. Sumner swung the gun in his direction.

“Don’t shoot him!” Emma said.

Sumner paused. He lifted his head to look at Vanderlock. “You’re the cartel pilot.”

Vanderlock nodded slowly.

“He helped me. Don’t shoot him, and don’t get near him either,” Emma said. The look in Sumner’s eyes was unlike any she’d seen on him before. Always a determined man, he now seemed like granite, willing to do whatever it took to get his way.

“You okay?” Sumner called to Emma. His voice was remarkably normal in light of the fire in his eyes. “Anyone else in here?”

“No, but don’t touch the leaves. They’re tainted, and so am I.”

Sumner walked toward her, moving carefully around the shipment bales, keeping his weapon high. “Tainted with what?”

“A mutated strain of leprosy,” Emma said.

Sumner’s eyebrows flew up, but he kept walking toward her. “You sure no one else is in here?”

Emma nodded. She took three steps back. “Sumner, I told you, I have it. It’s contagious and may not be curable. Don’t come any closer.”

Sumner kept coming on, still holding the weapon high.

She danced back farther. He kept walking forward.

“Damn it, Sumner,
stop
.”

Her back hit the side of the ambulance. Before she could get out of his way he was in front of her. He lowered the gun and pulled her to him with his free hand. He bent his head down and brushed her lips with his.

Emma closed her eyes, wanting to weep. “You’re an idiot,” she said. He pulled away a fraction.

“We have a problem,” he said.

She took a shaky breath. “We do now.”

He shook his head. “Not the leprosy. The gangs. This barn is surrounded by La Valle’s men. I managed to slip in before they formed up, but now we’ve got to decide how to get out of here.”

Chapter 42

B
anner rode in a chartered helicopter over dark Kansas fields. The hired pilot yawned, which was not surprising as it was three o’clock in the morning and Banner had hauled the man out of a warm bed. The pilot pointed below.

“That cluster of cabins is your motel. The police tell me I can put down over there.” The pilot pointed to an empty lot nearby.

When they were down, Banner jumped out and jogged to the cluster of police, FBI, and ATF personnel that milled around the front of the last cabin in the row. When Banner got closer, he saw the outline of a body in yellow tape on the deck in front of a door nearly blown apart from multiple bullet holes. He looked around for Kroger, but couldn’t see anyone that fit his description.

A slender man with salt-and-pepper hair wearing blue pants and a navy tee shirt emblazoned with the letters FBI strolled over.

“You Banner?” He held out his hand. “I’m Agent Roland. Thanks for the Kroger lead, but near as we can tell he never checked in.”

“He around here?”

Roland scratched his cheek, where a five-o’clock shadow was heading into its second day. “Nope. Hotel owner said only people who checked in was some slick guy named Wilson Vanderlock and his wife.”

Banner couldn’t think of a more apt description of Vanderlock than slick. “Hotel owner spoke to him, did she?”

Roland nodded. “Want to see her?”

“Lead the way.”

Banner followed Roland into the hotel office. FBI agents filled the small space. Roland shoved through the crowd and stepped up to a woman sitting on a chair, her hand on the back of a cat that sat in her lap. The woman looked him up and down.

“This is Mr. Banner. He’s going to ask you some questions about the slick guy and his wife,” Roland said. The woman just nodded.

“They check in alone? Was there no one else with them?”

The woman shook her head. “Was just them. He signed for two rooms. Said his wife didn’t like him smoking in hers. I knew they weren’t married, though.”

“How did you know that?”

“He was too slick and sure of himself. Good-looking and knew it. A real cowboy. And she just stood next to him and let him do all the talking. A wife woulda’ said something. Put her two cents in.”

Banner was amused at the woman’s observation of married life. “You think?”

“I
know
. You’re not married, or you’d know, too.”

“You’re right. I’m not married. Guess I’ll find out.”

The woman cackled. “Yes, you will.”

Banner asked her to describe the woman. She gave an accurate description of Emma Caldridge.

He headed back out, not sure what to do next, which, he thought, was probably for the best since he lacked the jurisdiction to make any real decisions. Banner’s cell phone started to vibrate. He pulled it from his pocket and saw “Sumner” displayed on the screen. He punched the button and glanced up while he put the phone to his ear.

“I need backup. I’m in a barn in Kansas that’s surrounded by La Valle and his cartel buddies.”

“Give me coordinates. You alone?”

“No. Caldridge is here, and the cartel pilot. He might be on our side. Caldridge vouched for him.”

“His name is Wilson Vanderlock, and I’ve never known him to work for the cartels. I’d take Caldridge’s word on that.”

“I already have.” Sumner rattled off the coordinates.

“Stay put. I’ll be in touch.”

Banner waved Agent Roland to him. “I got a guy who says he’s in a barn that’s surrounded by La Valle’s cartel. Seems to be pretty close to here.” He gave Roland the location.

“That’s ten minutes east. Tip was just called in as well. Says they’re in a parking lot on the far side of town. You coming?”

“Sumner said they were surrounding a barn he was in, not a parking lot. I wouldn’t assume the tip is correct,” Banner said.

Roland considered that. “Who’s in this barn?”

“My guy’s in the barn, along with Emma Caldridge and a pilot.”

Roland looked disgusted. “Far as I’m concerned Caldridge is one of them. She’s been running with them the whole way.”

Banner shook his head. “Never. I know this woman. She’s one of ours.”

“Who are the other two?”

“One’s the pilot of the cartel plane the ATD impounded, but I think he was coerced too.”

Roland gave Banner an incredulous look “My heart isn’t exactly bleeding for either of them. And the third? He a good guy gone bad, too?”

Banner hesitated. Sumner’s actions since intercepting Vanderlock could give rise to questions about his loyalties. He dodged the question.

“Listen, I think you need to consider both angles. Maybe split up the teams?”

Roland shook his head. “Not necessary, and possibly dangerous. We’ll come in from the west and pass the barn first. Give it a quick check, then head to the parking lot. You coming?”

Banner nodded, even though he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of driving straight to the barn. He climbed into the passenger side of a black Mercury Marquis sedan with Roland and two other agents. The tension in the car ran high. Agent Roland kept a running discussion with another officer while he drove, detailing the plan. He took the curving country lane at sixty miles per hour.

Drives like a native, Banner thought.

A state patrol officer led the procession, his siren quiet. The other cars remained silent as well. Three more FBI vehicles, two SUVs and one more sedan followed, backed up by three police cars. More patrol cars approached from the opposite end.

Banner’s phone vibrated again and he looked up as he put it to his ear.

He saw the ambush too late.

Several men stepped from the trees, the guns in their hands silhouetted by the headlights. They opened fire on the procession.

Roland jerked the wheel left, which only caused the car to turn in to one of the gunmen in the semicircle. He fired, pelting the car. Banner saw the muzzle flashes and heard the reports. Bullets punched through the windshield.

“Back up!” one of the agents in the rear yelled. Roland slammed on the brakes and threw the car into reverse. Banner braced his hands on the dash while they shot backward. His phone flipped out of his hand, dropping somewhere at his feet. The Marquis nicked the corner bumper of a following SUV, but only tilted with the hit and then kept going. The lead patrol car barreled past the circle of shooters. It drove a block and a second set of assailants appeared. They hammered the sides with shot. The car drove off the road and smashed into a tree. The assailants turned, heading toward the disabled vehicle.

Roland slammed to a stop. All three agents flew out of the car. Banner, too, was out and used the door as cover. The agents began firing, scattering the gunmen. Banner’s own weapon was back in his home in Washington. He kept low, and reached over to the glove compartment. It refused to open. Locked. Now Banner was sure Roland kept a gun in there. The firing stopped and the sudden silence seemed eerie.