Judgment Day -03 (25 page)

Yumi leaned across the table and stabbed her, this time with a quick in-and-out motion that penetrated the gap between her top two ribs. The ceramic blade pierced a lung but missed her heart by an inch.

President Glass weaved from side to side, her eyes slowly closing as her blood pressure plunged. Unable to hang on to consciousness any longer, she pitched forward, her head smacking against the table with a dull
thump
. Blood continued to pump from her neck, spreading out into a pool that raced across the table and dripped off the other side.

Yumi was preparing to stab her one final time when the door swung open. General Carr stood in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock. As he began to shout, Yumi leaped around the table, determined to put an end to the investigation once and for all. She lunged forward, hoping to drive the blade through his eye and into his brain.

But having fought in two wars, General Carr was not an easy man to kill. He sidestepped, brushed the knife away and struck Yumi across the throat with his forearm. The hard edge of his radial bone crunched against her windpipe, and she stumbled back, gasping for air. Before she could recover her balance, he stepped forward and hit her under the chin with his elbow. Her head flew back, and a tooth shot high into the air.

As she started to collapse, General Carr reached out and caught her by the throat. Yumi struggled to stay conscious as she felt his calloused fingers closing around her windpipe. She slashed out with the knife, slicing his upper leg. Blood poured out as his quadriceps pressed their way through the open skin.

But General Carr’s grip didn’t falter.

She raised the knife again, this time hoping to catch him under the ribs. He batted it away with his free hand, and the knife fell to the floor, breaking the blade into a dozen small black shards. She flailed against his chest with tiny fists, but they grew weaker with every blow.

The last thing Yumi Tanaka ever saw was the piece of decorative rice paper floating through the air like the feathers of a fallen angel.

CHAPTER

19

The remainder of the drive to Boone was smooth sailing. Mason was able to make the final hundred and thirty miles in a little over four hours, which probably counted as a personal best, given the condition of the roads.

As he entered the city limits, he was surprised to see a military UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter rise into the air. Based on its position, he figured that it must have taken off from the Watauga Medical Center’s rooftop helipad. As soon as it reached a few hundred feet off the ground, it turned west toward the mountains.

Mason pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator. He could think of no logical reason for the military to be in Boone. Other than border defense, their role had been relegated to guarding supply shipments and screening for the virus. Boone would not have been high on the list for either of those activities.

He whipped right on Deerfield Road and sped up the hill toward the hospital. Father Paul, Dr. Darby, Fran, and a dozen people Mason didn’t recognize were huddled outside the hospital’s main entrance. They talked and moved about nervously, like school kids who had been evacuated because of a bomb scare.

Mason hopped out of his truck, and Bowie followed, darting past him to get to Father Paul. The portly priest and Bowie had become close friends when they had fought against a band of convicts terrorizing Boone. And while it was clear that Father Paul was not entirely comfortable around large animals, he did his best to give Bowie the love he deserved.

“What’s going on?” asked Mason.

Father Paul gently pushed Bowie away, trying to keep the giant dog from knocking him down.

“We don’t really know,” he said. “A government agent is inside with Ava.”

“What type of government agent?”

“He said he was with the Secret Service. He had a badge and a gun, if that means anything. There were three soldiers in uniform with him too.”

“Who was in the helicopter that flew away?”

He shrugged. “I guess some of soldiers. No one came out to let us know that it was okay to go back in.”

Mason looked toward the hospital.

“What do they want with Ava?”

Father Paul shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. All I know is that after briefly talking with her, they told the rest of us to leave the hospital.”

“They forced you out?”

“More or less. One of the nurses just went to get Don and Vince. We figured the town’s deputies would know what to do.”

“Fine, but I’m not waiting.” Mason turned and started for the door.

Father Paul reached out and gently grabbed his arm.

“You should know one other thing.” There was worry in his voice. “This might have something to do with the girl your father brought in.”

“My father was here?” Oddly, the revelation didn’t surprise Mason.

“Less than a week ago.”

Hearing that his father was alive should have brought him joy. Instead, it only brought worry. Where Tanner Raines went, trouble followed.

“He had a girl with him?”

The priest leaned in closer and lowered his voice.

“It was the president’s daughter, Samantha Glass. Apparently, people are out to get her.”

“What?” Mason struggled to put the pieces together. “Why would the president’s daughter be with my father?”

“It’s a long story best saved for another time. What you need to know is that Ava took a small tracking device out of the girl’s arm.”

“What did she do with it?”

Father Paul stared at him, his face going white.

“Father,” he pressed, “what did she do with the device?”

The priest sighed and shook his head.

“She put it in a drawer in the hospital.”

Mason pulled away and hurried toward the emergency room door.

“Stay here,” he warned, his voice hard and determined.

Mason drew his Supergrade as he ran toward the emergency room. He passed through the front doors and found the lobby and waiting rooms both empty. Bowie came running in behind him.

“Find Ava!” he bellowed.

Bowie took off through the waiting room, his nose glued to the ground. Mason ran after him. They entered the treatment area, which was divided into several small mini-rooms, each sectioned off with large curtains that hung from tracks on the ceiling. Most of the curtains were pulled closed, but a few remained open.

Bowie raced to the end of the room and disappeared around a curtain. A few seconds later, Mason heard the dog whimpering and scratching its claws against the white tile floor. Even before he stepped around the curtain, Mason knew what he would find. The air had a discernible heaviness to it, a sense of death that he had felt many times before. He tried to ignore it, telling himself that any kind of sixth sense was nothing more than anxiety. But denying it made it no less real.

Mason whipped back the curtain.

Ava was seated with her wrists duct-taped to the arms of a metal chair. Blood dripped from dozens of small razor cuts on her arms, abdomen, and legs. No single cut was deep enough to have killed her. They had saved that for the thin metal garrote that still hung around her neck like a cowboy’s bolo.

Bowie whined and licked the tips of her fingers, unable to understand what he was seeing.

Mason stepped forward, gently pulled the garrote off her neck, and felt for a pulse. Her skin was so warm that, for a brief moment, he held out hope that he would find one. He didn’t. He slid his hunting knife free and cut the tape that held her to the chair. She flopped forward into his arms, and he lowered her carefully to the floor. He sat down next to her and lifted her lifeless body into his arms. Bowie sniffed around the room for a moment before coming over to lie down beside them.

Cradling Ava against his chest, Mason began talking softly to her. He told her about everything that had happened since leaving Boone—the militia that had captured him in York, the hotheaded Alexus and her penchant for hanging, the cannibals who had nearly had him for dinner, his grisly findings at Glynco, his discovery and subsequent chase of the mercenaries, the showdown with Nakai—even his indiscretion with Trish, the prostitute in Chester. He told her everything.

And when he finally finished, he told Ava one last thing. He told her that the men who had taken her life would soon be joining her.

After another brief conversation with Father Paul, Mason knew as much as he needed to. Agent Sparks was obviously looking for Samantha Glass. He had managed to locate the electronic tracker only to discover that it had been removed from the girl’s arm. So, he had turned to torturing Ava to reveal what she knew. Mason suspected that Ava had probably told him everything she knew very quickly, but being professionals, they had continued until they were certain.

He also believed he knew where they were headed. Ava would have told them about his cabin, and they would have assumed that Samantha was hiding there. If his father were indeed still there, they would be in for a hell of a fight. The cabin was very defensible, and Tanner was as tough as any man alive.

“Father Paul, can I trust that you’ll take care of Ava?” Mason’s words were calm, masking the pain beneath them.

“Of course.”

“Do you know that little lovers’ lookout to the west of town?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“There’s a big Northern Red Oak with Ava’s name carved on it. I think she’d like to be buried up there.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Ava has many friends who will take care of her. You go and do what you must.” Father Paul put his arm around Fran, Ava’s friend of more than twenty years.

“You kill that sonofabitch,” Fran said, wiping tears from her eyes. “You kill him good.”

Mason turned and opened the door of his truck. Before he could climb in, a police cruiser rolled up behind him. Vince Tripp and Don Potts scrambled out of the car. Vince had worked for years as a Watauga County Deputy and looked every part the lawman. Don had spent four years as a military policeman and now walked with a prosthetic leg. Both were good men who had stepped up when the town had needed them most.

“What’s happened?” asked Vince.

“Those bastards killed Ava,” Fran said, choking out the words.

Don looked at Mason. “Who did it, Marshal?”

“Father Paul can fill you in the details. All that matters now is that I’m going after them.”

“We’re with you,” Vince said, patting Mason on the shoulder.

“Damn straight we are,” added Don.

Mason shook his head. “These men work for the government. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of this.”

Vince looked hurt. “After all we’ve been through, you think there’s any chance we’d let you go off and do this by yourself?”

“Not gonna happen, Marshal.”

Seeing the determination in both men’s eyes, Mason reluctantly nodded.

“All right,” he said, looking off toward the mountains. “Let’s go get ’em.”

Mason and Bowie rode in the truck, and Vince and Don followed closely behind in the police cruiser. They drove as quickly as the road allowed, and twice Mason scraped his truck against abandoned cars in his haste. The only thing that mattered was getting to the cabin before Agent Sparks and his men departed.

He fishtailed onto Buckeye Road, dust flying up behind his truck. Vince and Don dropped back a few car lengths so they wouldn’t accidentally end up going off the side of the mountain. Three good men, thought Mason, going out after a handful of bad men. He wondered if the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday had felt the same sense of purpose when facing off against the outlaws at the O.K. Corral. People were going to die today, and there was no guarantee that justice would triumph.

As soon as he saw the turnoff to his cabin, he pulled to the side of the road. Vince and Don swung in behind him and jerked to a stop. Doors flew open as everyone scrambled out.

“Where do you want us?” asked Vince.

“Leave your car here, and come up on foot with your long guns. They’ll try to come around and get me from behind. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop them.”

Don nodded. “We’ve got your back, Marshal.”

Both men readied their gear: bulletproof vests, AR15 rifles, and plenty of spare magazines. Mason did the same, checking his M4 and slipping on one of the vests he had taken from the dead marshals in Glynco.

“I’ll go right,” Vince said to Don. “You go left.”

Without waiting for additional instructions, they nodded to each other and hurried into the thick woods. Mason smiled. Both men were brave and battle-tested. He trusted them with his life.

Mason climbed back in the truck and headed up the long dirt driveway. When he got to the metal barricade, he swung it open and used the open space to do a quick three-point turn. If his plan was to work, he needed the bed of his truck to face the cabin. He hoped that not having spotted a helicopter in the air meant the men were still on the ground. If that were the case, they had to be in the clearing directly in front of his cabin. It was the only place open enough to land a helicopter.

He backed the truck up the final leg of the driveway, slow and easy, until he reached the edge of the clearing. The cabin sat about fifty yards directly ahead. The black UH-60 helicopter had set down in the tall grass to one side of it. A man sat in the cockpit, but he was watching the cabin and didn’t immediately see Mason’s truck.