Betrayed

Chapter 19

Elena’s nerves tingled as she kept her gaze on the assistant security chief. His arm twitched, and she saw him pull a gun. Because she’d been ready for some kind of duplicity, she pushed Shane to the side. And because he wasn’t expecting an attack from the rear, or anywhere else, he lost his balance. As he went down, a bullet thunked into the tree where he’d been standing moments earlier.

Knowing he needed time to recover from the tumble, Elena shouted, “Over here.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Iverson growled as the gun swung toward her. More bullets thunked into the tree, but she had already ducked to safety.

Meanwhile, Shane rolled back into the shadows as two more bullets hit the ground where he’d been lying.

He found his footing and scrambled up.

“Come on.” He led them farther into the underbrush, back toward the river.

There were no more shots from Iverson, but she heard him moving through the woods. When they came to a duck blind, Shane stopped.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “How did you know?”

She turned a hand palm up. “I’ve always had a bad feeling about him. I can’t explain it.”

“He was always friendly to me. He showed me the ropes at S&D. I thought he was relieved not to take on the top security position.”

“I guess that was part of his job. Or his jobs.”

“Yeah.”

There was no more time for conversation. Iverson was coming through the underbrush, trying not to make any noise. But it was impossible to move silently through the woods, especially since he obviously wasn’t alone. He’d brought backup, and other men were spreading out, covering more territory.

Elena tensed for a confrontation. Then something totally unexpected happened. She heard a shot—followed by a man’s shrill cry. It was Iverson. “Jesus. What the hell are you doing?”

“You did the first part of your job,” another voice said. “Thanks for finding Gallagher and the woman. Too bad you couldn’t finish him off.”

A sick feeling rose in her throat as she heard another shot.

“They…”

“Killed him,” Shane finished. “Which gives you a good idea of what kind of men we’re dealing with. But I think we already knew.”

She knew something else, too. They intended to kill Shane, but not her. They wanted her alive because they thought she knew where the SIM card was, although she didn’t, not anymore, because Shane had hidden it. But she was sure they would never believe that. If they captured her, they’d try to torture the information out of her—the way they were torturing her brother.

When she drew in a sharp breath, Shane cupped a hand over her shoulder. “Yeah.” The one word told her that he’d followed her logic.

She could ask him where he’d hidden the card, but she wasn’t going to do it. Right now, it seemed better if she didn’t know. Of course, that left her brother in danger, but since the phone call this morning, she was determined not to do anything that would make Shane think she’d been part of a plan to steal from S&D.

She moved closer to him, watching the woods and listening for the sound of footsteps coming toward them.

“What are we going to do?” she whispered.

“I’m thinking. I’d like to know how many there are.”

The men began to move again. “There are at least two.”

“Yeah.”

“They won’t kill me,” she said.

“We know that,” he clipped out.

“What I mean is, if I draw their attention, you can get around behind them.”

She watched him consider the idea.

“I don’t like it.”

“Do you have a better plan?” she pressed.

She saw him scrambling for an alternative.

Finally he said, “No.”

“Then how should we work it?”

“Give me five minutes to get into position. Then call out and tell them you’re surrendering. Tell them you want to be sure you’re safe before you come out of hiding. Tell them I held you captive overnight. That I got angry when I caught you talking to your brother. They know that part’s true,” he added in a gritty voice.

She didn’t dispute the last comment. Instead she stuck to present reality. “And where do I say you are now?”

“Dead. One of those shots got me, and I bled out while we were trying to escape.”

“Will they believe it?”

“I hope so.” He turned to her and gave her a long look. “You’re sure you want to do it?”

“Do we have an alternative?”

“Not a good one.”

“Then go.”

Shane gritted his teeth and did what he had to do. His side hurt, but he ignored the pain. Staying down and moving through the woods more quietly than their pursuers, he circled around to get in back of the thugs who were stalking them, the thugs who obviously worked for the man who’d taken Elena’s brother captive and beaten the crap out of him.

Of course, the brother wasn’t the main event. They were simply using him to get to Elena, and as Shane got himself into position, he could understand why she’d felt obligated to go along with their plans. He didn’t like it, but he understood. What if someone were torturing Jack or Max? He’d do everything in his power to rescue them.

Now he considered his own problems. He’d taken a job with S&D thinking he understood the situation, but he hadn’t counted on Iverson being in on the scam to steal from the company. There was a kind of twisted logic to it. Iverson had had the run of the place, and he’d probably spent a lot of time looking for what Blake had stolen. And even though he hadn’t found it, he had been a source of inside information for the thug who wanted the program.

Iverson had taken a lot of risks, and he’d obviously expected to be well paid for his trouble. Instead he’d ended up lying in the Maryland woods with a couple of bullets in him. The first one had been to take him down, so he’d know he’d always been expendable. That was a particularly nasty tactic, probably on orders from the boss.

All that went through Shane’s head as he moved from tree to tree. As he circled around behind the attackers, he prayed that he was right in his assessment of the situation. He was counting on them not killing Elena. But what if they seriously injured her?

That possibility made his gut clench. He could admit now that he’d misjudged her, but all he could do was keep moving until he was behind the enemy.

Once he was in position, he wished he could signal her when to act. But that was impossible now. All he could do was wait tensely for her and silently shout at her, Now, now.

Or had something gone terribly wrong back at the duck blind?

When he finally heard her call out, he breathed a small sigh.

“Whoever you are out there, don’t shoot me,” she begged.

He heard the men fix on her location and turn toward her.

“Ms. Reyes?” one of them asked.

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“I want to make sure I’m not going to get hurt.”

“Where is that information you took from Blake’s office?”

“I’m not going to tell you unless I know my brother is safe.”

As she spoke, he saw them moving in on her.

“Cut the chitchat. Where’s Gallagher?”

“Dead.”

“Like we should believe that?”

“Iverson shot him. He was bleeding badly. He went down. I kept going.”

The man laughed, but Shane didn’t.

“Too bad for him. And you. That leaves you in a pretty vulnerable position. Come out.”

“If you won’t hurt me.”

“I will if you try to stay hidden.”

He saw her stand up, although she stayed behind the duck blind, which offered only minimal protection.

Before the men could move in on her, Shane got off a shot.

That was a big clue that she had been lying through her teeth and Shane was behind them. In response, the two thugs switched their focus, whirling and discharging a hail of bullets.

He tried to fire again, but this time the gun that had been in the water failed.

With a curse, he ducked low and dodged behind a tree, hearing bullets follow him.

As Elena had told Shane earlier, she’d been a very successful softball pitcher in high school. She had thought of that when he’d left her in the duck blind. Knowing she needed a way to defend herself, she had picked up several baseball-sized rocks from the ground. Of course, she hadn’t thrown a ball in years. And she’d only thrown overhand for fun. But her pitching arm was the only weapon she had. The question was, could she score on the first shot?

When the thugs turned and started shooting at Shane, she wound up and threw one of the missiles at the closest man, holding her breath until she saw she’d hit him square in the back of the head. He cried out in surprise and went down. Seeing he was out of commission, she threw another rock at the second attacker. This time, she was less successful and only hit him in the shoulder. He whirled back toward her, a look of fury suffusing his features.

“Bitch!”

As the man turned his attention to her, Shane leaped out of the bushes and pulled him down. The thug pivoted and tried to get his gun hand up. Shane banged his hand against the ground as the two men struggled, rolling through dry leaves.

Elena sprang forward, trying to get to Shane. But the man she had downed with the rock was functioning again. He shot out an arm and closed his hand around her ankle, yanking her roughly off her feet. As she toppled over, she managed to hold on to one of the rocks she’d collected. When he pushed his hand into her face, going for her eyes, she twisted around and brought her arm up, trying to crash the rock down on his head again.

But he was ready for her and reared away, anger flashing in his eyes. Knowing she had to take him out, she lunged forward and managed to slam him in the forehead with the rock. To her relief, he went still. She wiggled out of his grasp and, for good measure, hit him again, watching him go limp.

Pushing herself up, she ran toward Shane and the other man. They were still struggling. When the man rolled on top of Shane, she darted in, kicking at the attacker.

The distraction was enough for Shane to sock him in the face. And Elena slammed him on the head with the rock.

When the goon went still, Shane heaved him onto his back where he lay sprawled in the leaves.

“Thanks,” Shane said.

“You, too.”

“Have you ever seen these guys before?” he asked.

“No. Have you?”

“No. But I’d like to know who they’re working for.” He studied the men scattered on the ground like fallen logs, then looked back the way they’d come. “They drove here in a vehicle, obviously. We can use it to make a getaway.”

He turned to the man he’d been fighting and reached into the guy’s right front pocket.

“Jackpot,” he said as he pulled out a set of keys. After hesitating for a moment, he went through more pockets. The man had a wallet with no identification. But there was a lot of cash. Shane put the money into his own pocket and wiped his fingerprints off the billfold. Then he took the gun from the man’s hand.

“What happened to yours?” she asked. “You fired once, didn’t you?”

“Yes. Then it jammed. Probably from the river water.”

He got up, wavering on his feet, and she gave him a critical look. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. And we need to get out of here before the cops show up.”

Before she could ask another question, he said, “Nice pitching.”

“Thanks.”

“I thought softball pitching was underhand.”

“It is. But I practiced the other way, too. To see if I could do it.”

He stopped again to pick up his weapon. “We’d better not leave it for the cops to find. And when I get some gun oil, I can have it in working order again.”

They continued down the access road, then stopped when they came to an SUV pulled into a clearing.

Shane opened the door and slipped behind the wheel. Then he inserted the key in the ignition. When the engine caught, he let out a breath.

Elena had already gotten into the passenger seat.

“Check the glove compartment,” he said. “See if you can find out who owns this car.”

She opened the glove box and looked inside.

“Anything interesting?”

“It’s like the wallet. There’s nothing to tie it to anyone. Not even a registration.”

“Figures. And they probably stole the license plates. I guess if they got stopped by a cop, they’d shoot him.”

She made a strangled sound. “Truly?”

“Just a theory. But I wouldn’t discount it. They don’t want anyone to know who they are or what they’re doing.”

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Farther away. And maybe this time we’ll be safe.”

His face had turned gray, and she gave him a questioning look. “Are you hurt?”

“Not bad.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. And our first priority is to get out of here,” he said.

“In their car?”

“Only for a few miles. I’ve got faster transportation.”

He drove to a small airport about twenty miles from the estate where they’d been hiding out.

After pulling up on a strip of grass where other vehicles were parked, he said. “Wait here.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be a few minutes,” he added.

He went into the office and even though he’d warned her, he was gone long enough for her to start worrying. She was sure he wouldn’t leave her here. But what was he doing?

When he finally reappeared, she felt some of her tension ebb.

He came back to the car and slipped into the driver’s seat.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He drove the car down the strip of grass and into a hangar where several planes were parked.

“Wipe off any surfaces you might have touched,” he said.

She used her shirt to wipe the interior around the passenger seat while he did the same with the steering wheel and the driver’s side. Once they’d left the building, he closed the door behind him.

“The owner’s a friend of mine,” he said. “He’ll drive the car away from here and leave it in the woods.”

He ushered her to a small single-engine plane that sat with a number of others in a field to the left.

“That’s yours?” she asked.

“Rockfort’s. We’re all experienced pilots. I’m going to do a preflight check before we take off.”

Shane focused on the checklist. He wanted to get out of the area, but he wasn’t going to skip this important step, because if you took off without making sure everything was working properly, you could get yourself killed.

He started methodically, making sure the aircraft registration, certification, and other paperwork were in the cabin and up to date.

Next he turned on the master power switch and checked the fuel gauges, glad to see that the plane was gassed up. It helped steady him to focus on the plane and not his physical condition—or his relationship with Elena—or the surprise of finding out that Iverson was knee-deep in the S&D shit.

He pushed that out of his mind again as he listened to the sounds of equipment powering on. To his relief, everything sounded okay.

Finally he checked the flaps, landing gear lockdown levers, and other flight controllers for smooth, normal function.

When he was satisfied, he turned to Elena.

“All set.”

“Do you have to…file a flight plan?”

“I did when I was in the office.”

“Where are we going?”

“North Carolina. We have another facility down there.” He snorted, then fought not to wince. “Let’s hope it’s better hidden than the one up here.” He looked at her. “Buckle up.”

She did as he asked, but she looked jittery as he taxied down the runway.

“You’ve flown before, haven’t you?”

“Well, we flew here from Mexico, but I’ve never been in a plane this small,” she said as he picked up speed and they sailed into the air.

“I’ll try to make it fun,” he answered, then gritted his teeth against the pain in his side. He probably shouldn’t be flying at all, but getting out of here was his first priority.

When they were airborne and he’d gotten his bearings, he looked toward her. “Thanks for your help.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you in danger.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you, either.”

He wanted to say a lot more, but he’d have to save it for later, because all he could deal with was flying the plane. He had to keep his emotions out of it until he got them to safety.

Elena had expected that once they were out of danger Shane might relax a little, but she didn’t see any evidence of that. She wanted to touch him. Maybe put her hand on his arm, but distracting him now seemed like a bad idea.

Some of her own tension about the small plane dissipated as he flew south, staying along the coast, sometimes pointing out landmarks below them as they passed over.

Casting around for something to say, she murmured, “You said you filed a flight plan? Can’t the men looking for us use it to find out where we went?”

He answered with a hollow laugh. “I guess they can try. They have to figure out we took a plane. And if they figure that out, the flight plan is false.”

She absorbed that information. “You can do that?”

“The guy who owns the airport has helped us out before. He’ll cover for me.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t say anything more, and she kept stealing glances at him, thinking that he wasn’t in good shape. But she figured that if he’d wanted to tell her about it, he would.

A couple of hours later, he landed at another small airport near Elizabeth City, North Carolina.

“While I was in the office, I arranged to have a car waiting,” he said as he taxied down the runway, then pulled off onto a grassy strip similar to the airplane parking space where they’d taken off.

Elena followed Shane to a small office, similar to the one at the previous airport.

“Good flight?” the man behind the desk asked.

“Yeah.” Shane reached into his pocket and got out some of the money he’d taken from the killer.

“Thanks. Your car’s right outside the fence.”

As Shane drove into the countryside, Elena watched his hands gripping the wheel.

“Do you want me to drive?” she asked.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We don’t have far to go,” he answered, and she could tell that he was determined to do things his way.

They turned off onto a secondary road, and he slowed as he came to a long driveway. Again he turned, then stopped at a gate and punched in a code. After driving inside, he waited for the gate to swing closed behind them, then proceeded to a house set well back from the road.

He took the driveway at a slow pace, then pulled up in front of another older house that looked like it had recently been renovated.

The key was under the edge of the front porch. Inside, the first floor was similar to the last safe house, with a comfortably furnished great room, a dining area, and a kitchen along one wall.

Shane crossed the room and sat down heavily on one of the couches. “I guess we made it,” he said in a barely audible voice.

He looked wiped out, and she had the feeling that he’d kept himself going on willpower. Now that he was safe, his energy had suddenly drained away.

When he threw his head back, his jacket fell open, and she saw the red stain that had spread across the side of his shirt. She ran toward him.

Lincoln Kinkead looked up as one of his aides came into the room.

“You find out what happened to Iverson?” Kinkead asked.

“Yes, sir.”

Without giving him any information, the aide stepped aside and a tough-looking man walked into the room.

Kinkead looked up at him, fairly sure that he knew who he was dealing with now. “And you are?”

“Detective Paul Raymond with the Maryland State Police.”

Lincoln had expected that the police might show up at S&D, although he’d been thinking it would be local law enforcement—not the state cops. The introduction immediately put Kinkead on edge. “What’s this about?”

Without answering the question, Raymond asked, “A man named Bert Iverson works for you?”

“He’s my assistant chief of security.”

“Did you send him out on an assignment?” Raymond asked.

Lincoln thought about that. He’d called Bert last night and he’d come in for a few hours. Then he’d disappeared. Like Shane had disappeared.

“He was here last night. Did something happen to him?” Lincoln didn’t say that Iverson had been helping out with an emergency situation. He had learned that the less you volunteered to the cops, the better.

“He turned up dead at an estate on the Eastern Shore, outside St. Stephens.”

Thrown off balance by the terse statement, Lincoln stared at the man. Of all the things the detective could have said, that was the last one he’d expected to hear.

“How? When?” he managed to ask.

“He was found a few hours ago when the owner went down there to spend some time at his vacation house.”

Lincoln waited for more information.

“There was evidence that an intruder had been using some of the facilities at the estate without permission. Someone apparently spent the night on the owner’s cabin cruiser docked there. And food was eaten at the guesthouse.”

“And you think Iverson was responsible?”

“We don’t think so. We searched the property. There’s evidence of a gun battle in the woods. Iverson was shot.”

“By whom?”

“We don’t know, but we’d like some information on your chief of security, Shane Gallagher, the man who’s wanted for questioning about a shooting at his apartment.”

Shane had gotten into trouble at his apartment—with Elena Reyes, who had been in the building after hours the evening before. Now there had been another gun battle today on an Eastern Shore estate. Both incidents had to be connected, but Lincoln couldn’t put it together.

“Gallagher is missing,” Lincoln said.

“And Reyes was with him at the apartment.”

Lincoln sighed. “I called and asked him to come in, and he didn’t show up.”

“We’d appreciate it if you would contact us if you hear from him.”

“Yes. Okay,” Lincoln answered because he felt like he had no choice.

“What’s going on at S&D?” the detective suddenly said.

“What do you mean?”

“Your chief of security is missing. His second-in-command is dead, and Elena Reyes, one of your IT people, is probably with Gallagher.”

Lincoln nodded.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Lincoln swallowed. “Not at this time. I’m conducting an internal investigation.”

“Of what?”

Wishing he hadn’t given away that last part, Lincoln said, “Elena Reyes was in the building after hours.”

The cop gave him a hard look. After several seconds, when Lincoln said nothing more, the man turned and left.

Lincoln waited for long moments, debating what to do. Finally he picked up the phone and called Rockfort Security.

“Max Lyon here.”

“This is Lincoln Kinkead.”

“Right.”

“Have you heard from Shane Gallagher?”

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?” he snapped.

“We’ve been at the office all night, hoping to hear from him and hoping you might call with information.”

“He was supposed to come in. When I called to find out where he was, he said he was with Elena Reyes and that they’d escaped from thugs at his apartment. But you probably know that from the police report.”

“Yeah.”

“Apparently they went down to the Eastern Shore and got into some trouble again. My assistant head of security is down there—dead.”

Lyon dragged in a quick breath. “Who killed him?”

“The state police are investigating that. Why would Shane go down there?”

“We have a safe house in St. Stephens.”

“Did Shane call Iverson?”

“We don’t have any information on that.”

“Well, if you hear anything, let me know.”

When Lyon was silent, Lincoln said, “I paid Rockfort good money to find out who was trying to steal proprietary information from me. Gallagher hasn’t found out squat. And now it looks like he’s gotten into bad trouble.”

“Or he’s trying to stay out of trouble,” Lyon suggested.

Lincoln snorted. “If you hear from him, I expect a report.”

“Will do,” Lyon said, but Lincoln had the feeling the man was only saying what the client wanted to hear.

Max hung up the receiver, clicked off the speaker, and looked at Jack. “Kinkead’s pissed off.”

“He has a right to be.”

“Which doesn’t help Shane.”

“What do you think is going on?”

“No way to be sure.”

Max stood. “We’re going down there.”

“In the helo. That will be fastest.”

They both checked their weapons, then headed for the safe house near Gaithersburg where the agency kept the helicopter.