The Shut Mouth Society (46 page)

The second man continued to keep his distance. “Okay, one at a time. Keep it slow and easy.”

Evarts led the way down the stairs, which went far deeper than an ordinary cellar. At the bottom, he saw an unpainted concrete hallway leading left and right that ran far too long to be restricted to the foundation of the house. Perhaps they had been right. It looked like the basement could be a headquarters. It was hidden from sight, and it was certainly large enough.

The forward guard motioned them to follow him down the left branch of the corridor. When they had passed two doors, the guard punched a number into a keypad and pointed them through the third door in the long hallway. When Evarts passed through the steel cased door, the interior of the room surprised him. Large and indirectly lit, it reminded him of a movie set from
Gone with the Wind
. After the sterile concrete corridor, the heavy upholstered furniture, spindly wood pieces, patterned rugs, and life-size nineteenth-century portraits stunned his senses, but Evarts thought the décor leaned too heavily to maroon for his taste.

Branger suddenly opened a door at the opposite end of the room and showed surprise at seeing them. “
What
are you doing in my parlor?” he demanded.

“
I’m sorry, sir. I must have misunderstood.” The guard glanced back at his accomplice for support but received a noncommittal stony stare. Evidently he would have to face their boss’s wrath alone. “I thought you said to take the woman as well.”

“
I pay well enough to expect a three-digit IQ.” Branger’s voice assumed the tone of a parent instructing a recalcitrant child. “I thought it clear that the sight of these men makes me nauseous. Take them to the shooting range. And if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would you mind tying them up? Once you have them secure, one of you may return to pick up the woman. When you come back, the polite thing would be to knock first. Then you may take the woman back to the range.” Branger removed his glasses and excessively cleaned the lenses with an unsoiled white cloth from his pocket. “Do you need any further instructions?”

“
No, sir.”

“
Good.” He started to turn away but then rounded on his employee. In a chillingly cold voice, he said, “Never again presume that because I ask you to dispose of some discarded article, you may enter my private chamber unannounced.” Branger slipped his glasses back on his face and returned the cloth to his pocket. “Are we
perfectly
clear?”

“
Yes, sir.”

Just as the guard turned around to escort them out of the parlor, Harding reached into his pocket. Both guards came instantly around on them, and Evarts could actually sense them squeezing ever so slightly harder on the triggers of their automatics. Harding froze in mid motion. Waiting until the guards seemed assured that they had control of the situation, Harding slowly pulled the cell phone out of his pocket with two fingers. “If I don’t call, this house will be rubble.”

“
Then I shall build another,” Branger said.

“
When the authorities investigate, they’ll find your command post down here,” Evarts tried.

“
The authorities don’t concern me,” Branger said dismissively.

Harding raised the collapsible antenna and flipped the phone open with his thumb.

“
You ignoramus, there’s no reception down here.”

“
Then you’d better call your contractor,” Harding said. “Because you’re going to need a new plantation house.”

“
I’m tired of these games. Take that phone away from him and get them out of here.”

Harding raised the phone like he actually held a weapon. “Stand back. I can blow this house to smithereens as easy as one, two—”

Harding tossed the cell phone in the direction of Branger, and in mid flight a light flashed so white that all other colors disappeared.

Chapter 59

The flash grenade barely made a popping sound. On the count of two, Evarts and Harding shut their eyes and covered them with their hands to protect against the blinding light. They simultaneously sidestepped away from where they had been standing and ducked close to the floor. As soon as the flash dissipated, they attacked the two guards.

Evarts punched his target in the solar plexus with his two center knuckles. He knew he had pent-up energy, but he hit the man so hard that the expulsion of breath felt like a bellows. He next hit him in the windpipe with all four knuckles. Suddenly, the boom of gunfire assaulted his ears, so he grabbed the guard by his shirt and twisted around behind him. He immediately saw that Branger had somehow gotten hold of a .45 automatic and was now blindly spraying bullets around the room.

Evarts felt a bullet hit the guard he held in front of him as a shield. He didn’t feel anything and hoped that Branger’s automatic had been loaded with hollow points; otherwise, even the slow-moving .45 slug could pass through and hit him. He tried to push the guard toward Branger, but he collapsed instead of moving forward, and Evarts had to drop to the floor to stay behind his limp body. Luckily, in another second, the gun’s slide locked open because Branger had emptied the magazine. Still blinded, Branger fumbled around in a table drawer trying to feel for another magazine. Evarts charged.

He hit Branger with a football tackle, and they both went tumbling to the floor. Evarts felt a sudden excruciating pain in his neck and reflexively rolled away from the hurt. In a split second, he rallied and came back at Branger with a punching fist aimed at his face, but Branger jerked and Evarts’s glancing blow skidded against the floor. He raised his knee to attack Branger’s groin, but Branger had twisted enough so that Evarts merely hit the inside of his thigh. Then he felt the jarring impact of a fist driven into the side of his head. Damn it. Branger knew how to fight. He had to win this quick. Evarts bounced into the air and came down knee first into the center of Branger’s chest. He heard a cry of pain and knew from his agonized expression that Branger had lost the will to fight.

Evarts scrambled back to the body of the man he had used as a shield and quickly found his pistol. He gave Branger a glance and saw that he was holding his chest and gasping, so he whirled toward the second guard in time to see Harding’s great fist smash into the face of the already unconscious man.

“
Steve, stop. He’s out.”

Harding hit him once more before the words penetrated his dark fury. He pulled his fist back and stared at the bloody, bone-shattered flesh that had been a face. When he saw no life in the slack features, Harding rolled off the body and slowly stood. After he reached full height, he kicked the man furiously in the head. “Fuck you.”

“
Get his gun, Steve,” Evarts said.

“
That’s the asshole who drugged me in the gym.” Harding picked up the gun from the floor and came at Branger with such intensity that Evarts thought he was going to kill him.

“
Stop!” Evarts yelled. “We need him.”

“
That son of a bitch.” Harding shook with anger.

Evarts grabbed him by both shoulders. “Get a hold of yourself. This isn’t over. Do you hear me, Steve?”

“
You’re not going to let that bastard live are you? Our team’s coming in. We don’t need him.”

“
Goddamn it, Steve.” He shook the bigger man. Evarts understood that Harding felt guilty for not protecting Trish, but he needed his brain as well as his brawn. “Listen. She’s
here
. If we don’t fuck up, we can get her out. Pull yourself together.”

Harding looked at him with recognition for the first time. “Breathe,” Evarts ordered. He looked over his shoulder at the other three men in the room. Both guards looked dead, and Branger still held his chest and groaned.

A sixth sense suddenly raised the hair on the back of his neck. Releasing Harding, he leveled the automatic at Branger. With his other hand, Evarts gave Harding a shove toward the door. “Check the hall … be careful.” He moved to the side to get a clearer view of Branger. “Stand up.”

Branger continued to groan, but Evarts now knew for sure that he was faking. “Stand up or take a bullet to the leg. Now!” There was only one moment of hesitation. When Branger got fully to his feet, Evarts said, “Drop it.”

Branger smirked and theatrically opened his palm to let a small black object clatter to the floor.

Without looking at the device, Evarts yelled over his shoulder, “Steve, he’s set off an alarm with a remote. Can you secure that door?”

“
No,” Evarts heard from behind him. “The deadbolt requires a key on the inside.”

Branger’s smile turned sickening. “I raised an alarm and now that door can’t be locked, even with a key.”

Evarts stepped further away from Branger and glanced at the doorway. Harding had been peeking through a crack and opened the door enough to poke out the barrel of his gun. He fired two blind shots down the hall.

“
That will give them pause for about twenty seconds,” he said with disgust. “And the fucking door opens outward so we can’t pile shit in front of it.”

“
We’ve considered every scenario,” Branger said.

“
Don’t move,” Evarts ordered as he sidestepped toward the door at the rear of the room. He opened it and stole a quick glance. He had hoped to find Baldwin in the room, but still he swallowed hard when he saw her. Reclining in a huge leather swivel lounger as if taking a nap, she looked inert, and her pasty white face displayed the slack features of the seriously ill. He scanned the apparent emergency bedroom and returned his attention to Baldwin. Despite her unconscious state, she was bound hand and foot. Evarts shouted at Harding, “No exit from the back room! Trish is here and appears drugged!”

As Harding marched across the room, he effortlessly grabbed Branger by the scruff of the neck and threw him toward the back room. “We can’t defend that door. They can come at us from two directions. I’d throw a flash-bang grenade into the room.”

The slight jerk of Branger’s head told Evarts that’s exactly what they intended to do. “Quick, into the back!” he yelled.

Harding literally threw Branger through the door frame and then took up a position on his knees, with one hand ready to slam the door shut when he saw the grenade fly into the outer room. Evarts decided he didn’t have time to babysit Branger, so he pistol-whipped him unconscious. He next went to Baldwin, untied her feet, and used the rope to tie Branger’s hands behind him. Damn, how much time did they have? “Buy me time!” he yelled at Harding.

As he ran into an adjoining bathroom, he heard a single shot. The bullet couldn’t penetrate the steel door or the concrete wall, but hopefully the assembling assault team could hear the shot and would stop to try to figure out what it meant. Then he heard Harding yell at the top of his lungs, “Open that door and I kill your paycheck!”

Evarts rummaged around in the bathroom and found some cotton balls. He ran back into the bedroom and knelt behind Harding. While Harding kept his gun aimed at the door, Evarts stuffed two cotton balls in each of his ears. After he plugged his own ears, he stuffed Baldwin’s ears and untied her hands so he could use the rope to tie Branger’s ankles. Then he inspected the room. No exit, but he found a fully automatic rifle under the bed. He ran over and gave the weapon to Harding, who nodded in appreciation.

The plan they had devised yesterday called for them to try to isolate Branger while a small assault team broke into the house from the lake side of the mansion. With luck, their assault team should have taken the perimeter by now, but Evarts didn’t know how long it would take them to find their way to the basement. They had to hold off until help arrived. That meant securing their position—not worrying about Baldwin. He ran back into the bathroom and soaked two washcloths. He stuck one in his shirt collar so he could pull it over his mouth quickly and threw the other one at Harding, who felt the wet cloth hit him and tucked it into his collar. They were as ready as they could get with the limited resources at hand, so Evarts took a position with his back against the wall next to Harding.

He had no sooner gotten in place, when the outside door opened a crack, and a grenade rolled into the outer room. Harding fired a three-shot burst and then slammed the door. Despite the cotton, the blast deafened them, and the reverberations shook the wall. Harding almost immediately opened the door and blindly spayed another three-shot burst. Evarts stood behind the kneeling Harding ready to fire, but he could barely see through the smoke. He soon made out two charging men, wearing full body armor and face shields. Both he and Harding opened fire, aiming for the unprotected legs. After that he couldn’t recount what he did, only that his next conscious thought was that the .45’s slide had locked back in the open position because the gun had run dry of ammunition.

After he picked up the other automatic from the floor and took aim, he saw the two men writhing on the floor. “Back off,” he yelled at the men he assumed remained hidden in the hall.

The answer came immediately from behind the outside door. “There’s no exit. Throw out your guns.”