They'll Call It Treason (17 page)

Be careful, Dante.

More gunfire split the air. A single round pierced through the back window, glass shattering.

“Ah!” Austin screamed, clutching his shoulder. Gray reeled around to check on Austin.

“You okay?”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Austin assured him, lifting his hand to show where the bullet had grazed his shoulder. With a newfound sense of urgency Gray wheeled around and began to fire back at the pursing SUV from where the back windshield used to be.

Ethan watched in the rear-view mirror as the SUV’s headlights shattered and cracks spidered out across its windshield. With a click the slide on Gray’s pistol locked back.

“I’m out,” Gray announced, looking to Ethan.

“Here,” Ethan said, handing his Glock to Gray. “Austin, there are more magazines in the back… if you can get to them.”

“We’ll see,” Austin said, careful raising from his crouched position on the back seat. He took a quick glance over the seat, catching a quick glance of two AR style rifles and at least two pistols set neatly in topless cushioned containers sitting beside four ammunition boxes. A bullet grazed by, sending Austin reeling back to his seat and crouched again.

The SUV slowed for a moment, swerving back and forth to avoid further fire. Then it burst forward, slamming into the Jeep’s rear. They jolted with the impact. Gray resumed fire, piercing through the window but missing his human targets.

Scaring them was no longer an option.

Suddenly a small car appeared around the bend, Ethan swerved to avoid the sedan, tires screeching. The oncoming car veered dangerously close to the edge of the road, coming mere inches from the guardrail and a several hundred foot drop. Ethan looked down at the speedometer. Sixty-five miles per hour. Fast by all accounts down the spiraling Parkway.

This has got to end.

With the gunfire momentarily ended, Austin took a quick glance back and leaned over the seat. He threw the lid of one of the ammunition boxes and swooped up three loaded magazines and a pistol. Quickly he dived back down behind the cover of the seat. He checked his newly acquired pistol, a black 9mm Springfield, and then checked the magazines he had grabbed. One .40 and two 9mm magazines.

How lucky
, Austin thought.

“Here Gray,” Austin said, holding out the .40 magazine.

Gray took the magazine, placing it by his side, ready. Austin rammed a magazine into his Springfield and chambered a round. He turned to face the oncoming SUV just below the seat’s headrest before popping off a round.

A thought hit Ethan. Without turning he yelled above the roar of the cold wind blowing through the Jeep and the sporadic gunfire.

“Gray!” He waited a split second with no response as Gray spent another round. “Gray!”

“Yeah,” Gray replied, finally hearing him over the noise.

“You remember that drug bust back in Norfolk? The one with the crazy chase?”

“Uh, yeah. I think,” Gray replied, mystified. His expression abruptly changed from puzzlement to beseeching. “No Ethan, not again! I mean think about where we are,” he pleaded over the wind, referring to the curvy mountain road and the sheer drop off to their left.

Ethan let half a smile cross his lips. “You’d rather just run and get your ass filled with lead?”

Gray sighed, casting his eyes down in resignation. “Okay.”

Confused, Austin piped in between shots, “What’s going on? What are you two talking about?”

Planting his butt in his seat, Gray sighed before turning to fill Austin in, “Just hold on, Austin.”

“Huh?” Austin crinkle his brow, still crouched below the ledge of the back seat.

Still racing down the Parkway at over sixty miles per hour, Gray released an empty magazine from his pistol, not caring where it fell. He slid a fresh magazine into the pistol and aimed out the passenger window, seeming to point at nothing specific. “Ready.”

Ethan took a deep breath and exhaled. “Here we go!”

Ethan spun the wheel and slammed the brakes, spinning the Jeep violently to the right toward a massive rock face.

“What the—” Austin began as his body slid against the door with a
thump
.

Everything moved so quickly as the Jeep spun around. Gray began to fire as the SUV came into view, sending two rounds home through the windshield. Out of sheer luck one connected with the passenger.

Ethan rammed the shifter into reverse and straightened the wheel. Their bumper collided into the SUV with a shudder. His eye on the road behind them, Ethan accelerated in reverse, ready to dodge any oncoming cars.

Gray took aim next to the driver of the SUV, working hard not to wound him mortally. He pulled the trigger. A
boom
echoed in the Jeep as the bullet spiraled forward and slammed into the driver’s shoulder. He yanked the wheel to the left as his arm recoiled in pain. Noticing his error, he yanked the wheel the other direction, overcompensating.

Gray watched as the SUV sped straight for the rock embankment. The grill crunched into a low lying outcropping of grey and brown stone, its wheels jumping off the ground. In seconds the vehicle jolted off the rock face and toward the wooden and metal guardrail that divided the road from a sheer drop. It crashed into the railing. Wood cracked and splintered, metal moaned and screeched. The black vehicle slowed to a halt almost immediately, teetering over the edge.

Ethan jammed the brakes and brought the Jeep to a screeching stop. Breathing hard, they watched as the SUV began to tip slowly toward the drop off. Suddenly the doors opened, and a figure fell out of the passenger side of the SUV, followed by the driver just out of view. Seconds later the SUV toppled over the edge. The agents jumped away just in time not to be ripped off the road. After a sickening delay, the crunching of metal and a booming explosion echoed in the distance.

Just like that, any imminent danger went up in smoke. For a moment Ethan stared at the dazed agents. They were no longer a threat. Ethan pried his hands off the steering wheel. Austin was in the back seat, eyes wide, in a near state of shock from the unexpected one-eighty on the narrow Parkway.

“You did it! You actually pulled it off this time!” Gray yelled in surprise.

              Robotically, Austin asked, “What?
This
time? What happened last time?”

“It didn’t turn out so pretty,” Gray smirked and shook his head. He was the only one in the car that seemed remotely excited.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Remind me never, ever, to do that again, please,” Ethan finally spoke. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, but the reality of the immense risk he had taken was setting in. His heart pounded fiercely.

Ethan watched the smoke rising from far below and the agents lying on the roadside.

“Let’s get out here, guys,” Ethan said, his voice sober and anxious. “We’ve got a rendezvous with Dante.”

January 30 at 8:45
a.m.
EST

Washington, D.C. – FBI Headquarters

“Dammit!” Richard yelled.

The room fell silent.

Everyone in the room looked back like a hive-mind to Richard.

We lost them, sir.

The words echoed in his head like some broken record. Richard gathered his thoughts and composed himself

“Sir?” Agent Bradley’s deep voice came over the transmission as still image of his face lit up faintly on a monitor, one of many covering the far wall. He was a middle-aged man with dark green eyes and a receding hairline among his short brown strands.

“Yes, Agent Bradley,” Richard said, calming his voice.

“The group’s shots were all non-lethal, even when they did not have to be. I don’t think it was an accident,” Bradley explained.

“What are you getting at Bradley?”

“Just an observation, sir,” Bradley stated.

Richard dismissed the agent’s observation Ethan had gunned down a US Congressman and a fellow agent. A friend supposedly.

“Regroup and wait for further instructions,” Richard barked, turning his back to the main monitors.

Across the transmission the agent’s voice acknowledged the command, and the feed went silent. Shedding his black blazer, Richard unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and repositioned his stripped indigo tie. He let out a deep breath and then looked back up at the room’s occupants.

“Alright people,” he began, determination in his voice. “Again, we’ve lost our targets. A group of domestic
terrorists
.”

He cocked his head as the blood turned his face a shade of crimson. Anger on the verge of escaping his cool control.

“We’re going to track these bastards down.” His bellowing voice was stern and solid. “We will not stop until they are in custody.” Richard paused. In a more hushed but stern tone he continued, “or dead. Remember, we don’t negotiate with terrorist. Now let’s get to work!”

Richard buried the rage and pivoted toward his second in command as the room buzzed back to life.

“I want drones up in the mountains yesterday! I want agents up there ASAP scouring every little excuse of a town and backwoods road around that parkway.”

“Yes sir, I’m on it!” Aran nodded vigorously.

“I want to know the second you have their location or even think you have a clue,” Richard almost yelled. “The next time we find them, they’re not getting away.”

Aran nodded his head at his bosses predetermined outcome. He felt something cold in Richard’s voice, but he knew it was only his boss’s determination.

As Aran turned away to execute his orders, Richard looked back at the large LED displays along the forward wall. A red dot on the left screen showed the spot where the GPS tracker had malfunctioned in the last SUV. Off the side of the road the dot bleeped.

“Let’s get a team up there to pick up our agents.” Aran relayed the coordinates to young female analyst, her blond hair held up tight in a bun at the back of her head.

Richard’s attention flitted across the screen to the center monitor. His eyes locked on the first photograph, Ethan Shaw.

You’re a clever one, I’ll give you that. But, I’ll find you.

Looking at the photo, Richard cursed. He could use that type of talent. But no, instead he had to run it down and lock it away.
Such a waste
.

January 30 at 9:00
a.m.
EST

Location Unknown

For the past four hours, one lone light flickered in and out above Kate without rhythm. At first it had nagged at her nerves, but soon it drifted into irrelevance. Still she could not rest. Every time her head bobbed forward and her heavy eyelids dared to shut, visions of the crash made her snap upright again.

All Kate could do was wait.

She had already lost count of the hours since she first woke, tied to an unforgiving metal chair. Blood dried on her face and blouse, her tears dried up at the source. Her face felt swollen as was her left arm.

Her mind flashed back to the gallons of water that Sean’s men had poured over her face; the overwhelming drowning sensation, the helplessness and panic that set in. She snapped back to reality with a slight spasm.

Her body shivered in fear.

Through the night she tried to reach the tool tray just inches away from her. Her left wrist was circled in dried blood where the plastic zip-ties had cut into her skins. Every time she moved, those same wounds reminded her how close and how far away the tray was. But she kept trying.

Again, hoping against hope, she angled her body awkwardly. It was painful, but it allowed her wrist more motion. She extended her arm out along the arm of the chair, scraping the plastic restraint down the blood-smeared metal. Twisting she pushed her hand out toward the tray. It was so close, only a few inches away. The scalpel looked as though she could touch it.

A cold sensation moved up her finger and arm as her ring finger hit metal. A jolt of renewed purpose filled her chest. She fingered the tray, trying to pull it closer. A quiet squeaking signaled the movement of the tray’s wheels.

Without notice a door slammed open behind her. Kate jerked up and retracted her hand—had she been caught? The footsteps were quicker this time.

“Doctor, you didn’t tell me you were getting married,” Abrams began. “Mrs. Shaw,” he said as if trying it on for size. “Well, it would have been nice, I suppose,” he said, reaching for her hand. She pulled back instinctively, repulsed by his touch.

“Calm down now, Doctor.” Abrams reached for her left hand again, lifting it closer to his face, examining her fingers. With a cockeyed expression he looked back to Kate, “No ring? Someone’s either cheap or someone isn’t as proud as they probably acted.”

Kate looked down at her finger. In all the confusion, the pain and the torment she had not noticed her engagement ring was missing. More shame flooded through her as Abrams lifted the ring for her to see.

“Looking for this?” he taunted.

Give it back!

Kate jerked forward, trying to reach out for the ring. Her wrist stung as the plastic strap dug deeper into open wounds. With a tricky grin, Sean stowed her engagement ring away into his pants pocket.

“I’ll take care of this for you. Your colleague seemed to think you were more excited about marriage. She was surprised you hadn’t told me,” Abrams needled. “I’m with you, though— marriage just isn’t all it’s said to be.”

Colleague? Who have they talked to?

Seeing the alarm and suspicion in Kate’s eyes, Abrams stopped in front of her and smiled, “Doctor Kombl was such a gracious host.  A real nice lady.”

He walked over to the tool tray and picked up the silver pair of pliers, examining its pointed ends as he talked.

“The good doctor’s been awful worried about you since you went missing,” he explained with a wicked grin. “Seems she thinks you two would have made a great couple, but with him being a terrorist and all, I think she might have changed her mind a bit.”

He placed the device back on the tray and pushed the tray back a few inches. He walked a few steps into the darkness ahead of her. Kate watched the tray slide away, her hope extinguished. Abrams spun around to face Kate again.

“But now I have some good and bad news for you.”

Kate was sure there could be no good news.

“We found Ethan.” He paused for a second. When he spoke again his voice was transformed; it was deep and dark. “And the rest of your filthy friends.”

Kate’s head dropped. She felt as though the weight of the world had fallen on her, the rest of it at least, the oceans daring to burst from her eyes. She dammed them up, holding on with all she had inside.

Maybe they are okay.

“But,” he took a step to the side in what seemed to be irritation, “they managed to slip away again.”

The weight lifted from her shoulders. Kate raised her head, trying to hide the extent of her relief. A tear trickled down her cheek, a remnant of the terror she had just sensed.

“So let’s try this again, doctor,” Abrams began, his tone brash and serious.

“Now that your
fiancé
is on the move again,” he said, “I don’t suppose you know where he might go now, would you?”

Kate refused to make eye contact as Abrams took a few deliberate steps toward her. She kept her mouth closed, refusing to say a word. This time she truly had no idea where Ethan would be.

“Doctor.” He paused, and softened his voice. “Kate. Please do talk with me.”

Abrams walked around her, away from the tool tray. Coming up from behind, he delicately traced a finger up her arm. Kate closed her eyes and tried not to think about it. Her body shuddering at the sensation. Hatefully, he pressed against the still sore bruise, sending a shooting pain up her arm.

Kate pulled her head up and looked away from Abrams. She held her gaze strong into the empty blackness, withholding from him the satisfaction of her attention. Inside she trembled.

“Kate.” He nearly pled with her. His cheek now touched hers gently. The heat of his unwelcome breath.

“You’re a monster,” Kate spoke the words between her hard pressed lips.

Abrams smiled, “Maybe so.” Then his expression went cold, “But I get the job done.”

Abram’s mind wandered at the smooth texture of her cheek as his lips brushed across her cheek. She was so frail and helpless beneath his touch. Her heart thumped under his palm as she writhed. She was anything but submissive. He let a grin form on his lips. She had fight in her.

Kate recoiled as Sean’s lips faintly touched her own.

“It seems there is little use in more of this questioning,” Abrams admitted. Something different flickering in his eyes.

Caressing his hand over her cheek, Abrams pushed her disheveled hair back over her ear and glided his fingers down her neck.

Kate’s body quaked at the uneasiness that enveloped her as his fingers molested her skin. The look in his eye grew more wanton. She watched his mouth open suggestively as his finger traced a path across her neck.

His hot breath steamed across her ear. Cheek to cheek he gently nibbled on her ear, taunting her.

Kate’s body writhed, violated and scared. She did not know what to do. What could she do?

Sean’s lips slid down her cheek. Suddenly excited by this woman, this problem, he brushed his lips against Kate’s and pressed against her.

She tried to twist away, but his grasp was tight, holding her stiff under his probing lips. Tears streamed her face.

Abruptly, Kate bit Sean’s lip. He drew back equally from shock and from pain.

“You fucking whore!” He spat angrily, wiping blood from his lower lip.

Kate tried to pull herself further into her torturous metal chair, ignoring the stinging straps and hard edges. She refused to meet his accusing eyes.

Sean stared down at her furiously.

“Just wait until I find Ethan,” he said. “You’ll wish you had cooperated then.”