Thin Line (29 page)

Bear covered the front while I used the woods to shield myself and continued to the rear of the property. The darkened windows hid any sign of life from
within the house. If someone was in there, they weren't making any noise. Could be a good thing. Absence of screaming reduced the chances that Brett was
being tortured.

Or maybe he had a high tolerance for pain.

An hour passed. The sun seeped into the trees. Its rays fought to reach us through the tangle of branches. The cold penetrated my clothing, and my arms and
legs shivered involuntarily. Large muscles spasming due to a trick my brain played to warm me up as it diverted energy toward major organs.

I worked my way back to Bear's position, slowly and methodically, watching the house, the lawn, the woods. It felt good to move again.

"Nothing," Bear whispered when I arrived.

"Same back there."

"Let's just bust in."

"It'll be dark in fifteen. Do it then."

I wondered if Brandon had called my silenced phone. Had the signal stopped transmitting? Or had it reached a new destination? We'd find out, hopefully, in
about half an hour.

Darkness fell over us. A glance to the west revealed a few final traces of pink and red clinging on, but ultimately losing the fight. As the last traces of
the sun faded, a light switched on inside the cabin.

Bear said, "Payback time."

I WAS THE first to approach the cabin, and did so from the side. Bear covered me from within the woods. Though the distance wasn't great, the blackness
that had enveloped the area prevented me from seeing him - which meant anyone inside the house wouldn't be able to make him out either. The lights from
inside the cabin illuminated the area in front. I lowered to the ground and continued on my stomach. The soft, wet ground soaked my clothing, freezing my
skin that much more.

The soft murmur of chatter filtered through the structure. Two voices, low and deep. I eased closer to the cabin, inched toward the window. Inside I saw a
man dressed in dark pants and a white undershirt, his jacket slung over an unoccupied chair.

I squatted and slid to my left a couple feet. Rising, I heard something fall to the floor inside. Another man bent forward to retrieve it. I was struck by
his age as he rose. He could have been the other guy's father. As he turned, the light hit him favorably.

He had short blond hair, combed back. It was thinning, and his red scalp poked through. Ice blue eyes locked in on his partner, and didn't divert. His face
looked like bloodless, pounded iron. I dubbed him 'the Norwegian' in my head.

Had he and the other man been in one of the cars that had tailed us?

I lifted my arm and gestured toward Bear, signaling for him to come to my position. Both of us squatted down and took position under the window.

"Any of those guys look familiar?" I whispered.

Bear rose, slowly, and turned at the waist. A few seconds later we were face to face.

"Yeah, I remember seeing both of them there. That squat old bastard is the one that busted my face. I guess there were more. You see more in there?"

"No. Sleeping." I paused a beat. "Or left with Frank."

"Assuming Frank came here."

I had no doubt the man had. He'd sold me out. Exactly how far would determine his fate.

I rose again and studied the two men. They were both sitting on kitchen chairs in the middle of the room, hands wrapped around twelve-ounce Pabst cans,
eyes fixed on the soft blue glow of the television. The Norwegian smiled. Two of his front teeth black. Must've liked what he saw on TV. The other guy's
eyes drooped. Long day. Tired, presumably. No way they had Brett in there. They were too relaxed. Or comfortable. A deadly sin, in my book.

But why stay out here?

Frank, and I assumed Brett with him, was coming back. That was the only explanation.

Bear agreed after I ran the theory past him. We decided to neutralize the two men inside, then question them separately.

The big man handled entry. With the men in a relaxed state, the crash of the door startled them. They were slow to react and reach for their weapons.
Sentries on their mark would have put three holes in Bear the moment the door cracked open. As predetermined, Bear discharged a round at the Norwegian. A
scream followed the deafening roar of Bear's pistol. The older man grabbed his shattered kneecap, lost his balance, fell to the floor.

The other guy, who I figured to be an FNG in the SIS, managed to rise. His beer can flipped through the air, spilling out a cycloning stream of cheap
alcohol. The FNG reached behind his back.

I fired.

His leg bowed backward, body bent forward, hands grasping at his bloody knee. Before he managed another move, I closed the distance between the two of us
and delivered a nose-crushing blow to his face. He fell backward, landed sprawled out on the floor, half-conscious. I stripped his weapon, and then turned
toward Bear.

He had the Norwegian in a stranglehold, weakening the older man to the point of passing out.

Casting a sweeping glance around the room, I spotted a pair of handcuffs, a length of rope, a knife, and a blackjack. Blood coated the knife's blade. More
blood and a clump of hair were matted to the end of the blackjack's metal rod.

I grabbed the weapon and flicked it, extending the business end. As I stepped over the presumed FNG, I slammed it against his head. He gasped, a gargled
choking sound, and his head fell to the side. The Norwegian watched through bulging, bloodshot eyes. I slammed the weapon against his upper arm, causing it
to give, and his body to collapse.

"Back off, Bear," I said.

The big man didn't move.

"Don't want him dead," I said. "Yet."

Bear looked up at me, squeezed harder on the man's neck.

The ex-SEAL's eyes rolled up. His beet-red face slackened.

"Bear!"

The Norwegian was gone. Bear let go.

The older man clawed at the floor, then sucked down a mouthful of air.

Not dead. Yet.

THE ROOM SMELLED like human waste, and with good reason. Turned out the FNG had defecated. Bear got a laugh out of it. Not the first time he'd scared the
shit out of someone.

We got little out of the young guy. Slightly more out of the Norwegian. We kept them in separate rooms. After a little encouragement, both admitted that
Frank and another guy who went by the name of Riggins had left with Brett. Neither had any idea where to. Even after taking his fingertip with the bloodied
knife, the Norwegian wouldn't reveal the location.

When the FNG restated he didn't know with the blade pressed to his finger, I didn't believe him. The older man was a mercenary, but this guy worked for
Frank. He knew. Sawing through the gristle at the first knuckle yielded screaming, but no confession. As his fingertip fell to the floor he threatened me
with legal action, then passed out again.

"They don't know, Jack." Bear hoisted the man over his shoulder and carried him to the back room. He tied him to the bedpost and then returned.

I stepped away from the pool of blood and fingertips that were drowning in it, then checked my phone.

"Christ."

"What?"

"Bunch of calls from Brandon."

"Any messages?"

I checked. "None."

"So, call him back."

I did. "What's going on?" I said after the man answered.

"I got an address for you. Signal's been there for about as long as you've been at that cabin."

"How do you know how long we've been here?"

"What need do I have for a GPS, Jack? Think, man. I've been monitoring you through that."

My paranoia level rose by a factor of ten. Brandon and I had an agreement of sorts, but he chased the money. No matter what.

We all did.

"So where's this place?" I asked.

Bear inched closer. A streak of blood dripped from his hand and pooled on the floor. It wasn't his this time. I didn't think so, at least.

Brandon said, "Looks like an office building in D.C."

I covered the mouthpiece. "If they've got him at SIS headquarters, he's as good as dead." I removed my hand and gave Brandon the SIS address without
telling him what was at the location. "That where they are?"

"Uh, nah. That's not it."

I said nothing while Brandon tapped softly at his keyboard.

"You're not gonna believe it, man, but this signal is coming from the Cannon House Office Building."

"Capitol Hill."

"Yup."

"Quaint. Can you pinpoint the exact office?"

"Sorta," Brandon said. "That building is five stories, I think. So I can tell you pretty much where in the building, but I can't get altitude off this
signal. So you'll have to narrow it down."

"Print off the floor plan and mark the exact spot, Brandon. Got that? I need the exact location. I'll be levying some serious accusations here. I need to
be right." I gave him a number that would ring to the fax machine in my apartment.

"Doing it now."

I ended the call.

"Got no more use for these guys," I said.

Bear nodded, said nothing.

"Your call, big man. They jumped you and left you for dead."

"Didn't kill me, though."

"Their mistake?"

The men were clinging to the last thread of consciousness. By now, their shock-ridden bodies prevented them from feeling the full pain of their wounds. The
tradeoff to that was they'd soon pass out. Bear went up to each of the men. They became visibly panicked as he approached. Bear leaned over, whispered
something to them, then returned.

"Let's go," he said.

"You sure?"

"They ain't worth the bullets."

Outside, the cold air chilled my sweat-soaked clothing as though I'd walked into a freezer after exercising. The ground beyond the cabin clearing was
frozen and crunched under the soles of my boots. Wood smoke from a nearby home filled the air. Good thing we were in the woods, considering we discharged
two rounds. Neighbors probably attributed it to hunters.

We didn't bother trekking through the woods to get back to the car. The need to conceal ourselves had passed. The driveway led to the road. We jogged to
the car, reaching it less than ten minutes, and got back on the highway.

As the lights of D.C. polluted the sky, Brandon called again.

"They're on the move, Jack."

"Stay on the line with us," I said. "We're probably fifteen minutes from the city."

"Hey, Jack. What's at that address you gave me earlier?"

"Can't say."

"Why can't you say?"

"Because." I paused, glanced at Bear. "Why do you need to know?"

"The signal stopped there about thirty seconds ago, and now it's disappeared altogether."

I crossed into the next lane, riding the shoulder, tempted to pull over. If they'd brought Brett to SIS, he was done. Whoever Frank had gone to see had
green-lighted the termination under the new circumstances. Would they do it there? Or hold him until it was time?

The lanes in front of us were thick with traffic, but not congested to the point of causing a slowdown. I pushed the speedometer to ninety and weaved my
way forward.

"How'll we get in?" Bear said.

"Not sure."

"How many people will be there?"

"No clue."

"If half the staff is there, how are we gonna get down to the cells?"

"Chances are we won't."

"Mind dropping me off so I can get some dinner, then?"

I glanced between Bear and the road. "This is what it comes down to? Gonna back out on me now?"

Bear flashed a smile. "Just messing. 'Til death do us part, my man. 'Til death do us part."

THE UNASSUMING BUILDING looked like most on the street. Brick and glass. Old. It had two halves, two lives. At one point, a law firm had rented most of the
offices. The others had been split between a mail order firm, and a B-movie production company. A few years back, everyone had been ordered to vacate, and
the building had been condemned.

The companies moved out at once.

And the SIS moved in.

The main level and upper floors, though perfectly suitable for use, remained empty. The hive of activity occurred underground. A secret entrance in the
rear opened up to a parking garage. To get to it, two card-controlled gates had to be opened, and then knowledge of how to get into the garage was
required.

Few had this information. And no one ever found out because after the second gate, everything was covered. Someone might look out and see a car
driving down an alley, but they wouldn't see anything past that. To them, it would look like the vehicle entering a covered parking deck, not the secret
garage of a clandestine government agency.

We were parked across the street, about two hundred yards away. There was no sign of life in the building. There never was. It had become an empty
mausoleum. Soon, though, it would have a corpse to house, and a soul to trap. Below, a life was close to being extinguished.

"What're we gonna do?" Bear said. "There's no way down from that main floor is there?"

"Can't access SIS from the main floor. There's a way up, but it's only accessible from my old office."

"Why don't they just get a regular building?"

"Because 'they' don't exist." I rolled my window down to let in some air. "And that's our ace, Bear."

"Gonna expose the secret government agency you used to work for?"

"Time to call Frank."

The desire to call him had been eating away at me the entire drive. But making contact too soon would have done no good. They'd move, and we'd lose them;
unless somehow, someway, Frank had Brett's phone. He wouldn't, though. I knew that much. I presumed the cell was locked inside Frank's bottom desk drawer.
He'd ship it off to be destroyed before the week was over. Maybe Brandon would pick up on the signal then. Definitely not tonight.

Now that we were close and could maintain visual contact, we had to take our shot.

I called Frank.