Unacceptable Risk (48 page)

Next Jill dialed Sam's satellite and left a message.

If the wolverine chooses the fight, it will defeat the bear.

—Tilok proverb

Sam turned on the sat phone every thirty minutes on the half hour when he could. This time he got an immediate incoming call.

"What's happening?"

"We got her. She's alive and awake. The vector is to be delivered in cement trucks and helicopters. The FBI found more helicopters painted like state police choppers and fitted with atomizers. A lot more. They've arrested some pilots. Now they're going after the cement trucks."

"Good."

"Benoit also gave us a way into Gaudet's server. Grogg's working on it. He's gotta get around the government guys."

"I'm gonna cover us the best I can. Tell him to call me when he gets it figured. If I'm unavailable, then release the antivirus."

"The government has forbidden us."

"I've cleared it with the vice president and the head of the FBI."

"Is that true?"

"For you it's true. Do what I say."

Thankfully, Jill didn't argue.

Next Sam did call the office of the director of the FBI and spoke to an assistant director with connections to Homeland Security.

"I need something."

"Go ahead."

"If I do something brilliant that works, I want you to say that the director gave his approval. Likewise, Homeland Security."

"Take credit for something brilliant that's already worked? What are we talking about?"

"Saving the free markets."

"This is the antivirus for the Internet, isn't it?"

Sam said nothing.

"We'll look into it. You got that?"

"Got it."

That meant they would more than likely do it. They wouldn't call him back or discuss it further.

With that business done, he turned his attention to the mountain. It was nearly dark and snowing hard. Fortunately, the wind had picked up and it was creating a blizzard. The hunters would try to bed down or get under cover, probably under the big trees. Now was the time to start back up the hill. Without a light he crept along, weaving back and forth across the ridge. Most of them would be just below the ridge on the leeward side—all but Gaudet, who would see the mistake in doing the obvious. Sam was certain they hadn't made it to the chasm; they would still believe that the task was to climb and to catch the group high on the mountain.

Sam kept low to the ground and moved at a snail's pace. In the dark and these conditions he would have to feel whoever was ahead. Then he saw the first fire. It surprised him. Yes, it was bitter cold on the mountain and these men weren't up to the elements. But to lose the advantage of surprise? He could smell the overconfidence.

As Sam crept to within thirty feet, he tried to figure how he might take out all five men around it without being shot. They sat close to their guns and looked jumpy.

Sam settled down and waited, the cold penetrating his clothes, making him miserable. First his ears started to ache; then things started tingling like they were going to sleep. A bit of a snowbank began building next to a log and he tried crawling into it and under the log for some insulation. Under the log he found moss and leaves and packed it in his clothing. It helped to insulate and cut the cold further. The part of him that was in the snowbank was 32 degrees Fahrenheit outside of his clothing. Inside his clothing, with the leaves and moss, it was considerably warmer. The part of him that was outside the snow was subject to windchill and below-freezing temperatures, so he did all he could to get himself covered in the white powder. After an hour the men near the fire were nodding off, but they frequently stirred because of the bitter cold and the need to throw on more wood. One man had his back near the fire and he appeared to be in a deep sleep.

Shooting all five didn't appeal to Sam. Carefully he searched the ground beneath him, digging down with his fingers and a large skinning knife. The ground was very hard, frozen, and without the heavy knife it would have been nearly impossible. After twenty minutes he had located ten small stones. Waiting until they all appeared asleep, he came out from his shelter and belly-crawled near the fire. He went to the man farthest from the fire, whose gun leaned against a log. Reaching carefully, he slowly picked it up. Moving back into the shadows, he pushed the barrel into the icy snow and plugged it. For certainty he poked in a rock. Then he returned it to the log, just as it had been. After waiting a moment and satisfying himself that they all still slept, he crawled to a second man whose gun was leaning against his leg. This was more tricky. He removed three small stones from his pocket and put them quietly down the barrel. With the third man, who had his hand wrapped around his gun, he did the same. Getting to the other two men was too dangerous, but perhaps the problem would solve itself.

On his hip he had the large skinning knife, which he once again removed from its sheath. Its blade was still razor sharp. Two of the men lay with their feet within a foot of one another. Very quickly he lifted the first boot and sliced clean through the leather and into the Achilles tendon. There was a split-second reaction time and, with the first scream, he had cut the second man as well and then leaped back behind the log.

Three guns literally exploded in rapid succession. The men farthest up the hill hadn't fired. The other three were wounded from metal fragments. The men who were cut were yelling and so were the wounded. It was pandemonium.

"Stand with your hands up," Sam shouted.

The two men with unfired guns hesitated but didn't seem interested in testing their weapons.

"I can't stand," one of the men said. He had been cut.

"You can stand if you wanna live," Sam said. "Step away from the fire. Hands behind your head and kneel."

They did as they were told, even the men with the bleeding heels.

Sam kicked snow over the fire.

"Take off your coats."

"We can't survive without coats."

"You won't survive with them because I'll shoot you."

"We are French diplomats. We have diplomatic immunity." The man had a Spanish accent.

"Take off your coats, run down the mountain, and call your embassy."

Sam collected the two functional weapons, the coats, and all the radios.

Suddenly there was a huge roar down the river canyon and Sam knew the upper dam was gone, with the lower dam soon to follow.

"Take off. If you hurry, you might make it to the landing where the cabins were and start a fire and stave off frostbite. If you don't get a fire going down there, you'll lose body parts from the cold. Don't forget matches." One of the men fumbled through a pack. "Now
go!"

Without waiting they hurried down the mountain, the uninjured helping the injured.

Sam got on the radio.

"Mr. Gaudet. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. What do you want?"

"Same thing you do, only it's you I want to kill and not me. But I'll make you a deal. If you want to live in a prison, you can surrender yourself. Call off Cordyceps. It's failed anyway. I'll turn you in to a country that doesn't allow capital punishment."

"We can make a different deal."

"Oh yeah?"

"I will trade you Benoit Moreau and the girl you call Grady for Raval."

"Good luck, chum. Benoit's safe in a Manhattan hospital and Grady's back at the office."

"Grady is on this mountain."

"Five of your guys are headed back down. They're discouraged. Your plan is falling apart. FBI's all over the helicopters and cement trucks. Your underworld investors are gonna be pissed off. They'll hunt you harder than I can. Hell, I'll give you to them."

"You aren't listening. Do you want Grady back alive?"

"You've been whupped by Benoit Moreau, and you don't even know it yet."

Gaudet had no response for that.

"You've defrauded the French government. You. Not Benoit Moreau. Did you read the fine print in those papers you signed?"

Again, no response, but Sam heard Gaudet's breathing.

"You screwed your investors and the French. You're done, Gaudet. Fish food."

"No," Gaudet said simply. The line went dead.

"Hey," Sam spoke into the radio, changing from channel to channel. "The rest of you on the mountain should know your boss is losing it. Gonna be a Tilok war party up here and we'll be taking scalps. Go ahead, stick around. We've done five; we can do more."

On one channel Sam heard calls go out to the five men he had neutralized. The calls got no response.

"Told you. They're running down the mountain without scalps. Bad deal."

"Stay in your places." It was Gaudet again. "I have Sam's woman."

"Sam ..." It was Grady. She was crying.

Sam ran through the dark, paying little heed to the noise of his movement.

It took only a few minutes to get down to the Y, where he and the others had split up. There were the tracks of many men, even though the bulk had gone up the mountain on his trail. Even as he went, he knew he should call in, so he forced himself to stop.

"What's happening?" he said to Jill.

"Thank God you called. Grogg got into Gaudet's computer and got the virus file. His antivirus, with a little tweaking, will probably do the trick."

"Release it."

"Against the government's orders?"

"I told you I spoke with the director of the FBI. And the vice president. They know, so just release it."

"You got it. Benoit's doing well, but she's desperate to know about Raval."

"I think he's fine, but somehow Gaudet has Grady."

"Oh no. No. No."

"I'm sorry. I'm going after them."

He signed off and resumed his run. To improve his progress he popped on the light. At this point he didn't care about the risk. He scampered over the rocks, banging his shins occasionally, but managing most of the time. Finally he was out of the creek and on a tiny, steep trail. It was the trail to the high mountain meadows, where the berries were thick in summer. Damn it. He should have known Gaudet would take the other trail.

Ahead he heard a laugh—an incongruous sound if there ever were one. Light from a campfire followed, and Sam shut his own light off. Slowly he crept forward. Soon he saw the fire and a big canvas lean-to. They had Grady tied spread-eagled on two poles that formed an X. She was close to the fire, nearly close enough to burn. Although she still had on her panties and bra, it was easy to see what was coming. Below her, also tied, sat Michael Bowden. The wound in his leg had reopened and bled freely. That explained how they were able to catch him in a forest. Fortunately, they didn't seem to have Raval. There were six men, all armed, all looking around, but all clearly distracted by Grady.

Gaudet was nowhere to be seen. Sam guessed that Grady and the men were bait. Nearby Gaudet would wait with more men. Sam moved back in the forest, blocking from his mind what was going on with Grady. He moved inches at a time, slowly circling the fire and the men. Soon they would begin the torture and the rape.

He had to focus.

Gaudet would be sick with anger and even fear. For a few minutes in this forest Gaudet might be on top, but in the larger scheme his world was crumbling.

Sam's radio crackled. Quickly he dialed down the volume and hunkered down to listen.

"I just wanted you to know that there are also boats along the Manhattan waterfront. Just about now they are releasing the vector." Gaudet paused, breathing heavily. "My investors will be fine."

Sam had to call Jill. That's what Gaudet would be counting on—to slow him down, maybe to give himself away. Sam walked deeper into the forest.

Grady screamed and it nearly undid him inside.

"Jill," he whispered. "There may be boats along the Manhattan waterfront. That's from Gaudet; he could be full of it. Pass it on to Ernie."

"Okay. They've cleared people away from the waterfront just in case."

Ernie was a smart guy.

Sam wanted to call Gaudet and get in his face about the boats, but he knew it wouldn't help. Slowly he made his way back near the fire and began again to circle. If he touched branches, there would be a dusting of snow that would fall. The wind was his ally, for it too moved the bushes and made it difficult to discern what might be coming or going. After another thirty or more paces he saw a dark spot standing out against the forest hues. Grady screamed again. He could feel her anguish in his bones, but he couldn't see what they were doing to her. Tears were running down his cheeks and he wanted to kill like never before.

He waited. For a minute nothing moved. He took another step. Then he saw it. The dark spot moved. Then another moved, and another. Soon he could make out people facing the fire. From their vantage point they could see what was happening to Grady. He could not. Grady screamed again in pure agony. They watched the torture like cows watch a hay truck. "Put her down on the ground," someone near the fire said. Sam heard himself groan.