Bodyguard of Lies

CHAPTER 20

"Can't I at least take a shower?" Hannah asked. "I need a break."

"We can rest when we're dead," Neeley muttered as she threw a duffel bag full of equipment into the bed of the pick-up truck.

"Oh, that's nice," Hannah said. "The words of Gant again?"

"No, Warren Zevon," Neeley paused in loading the gear. "They're after us. They know we're here and Mitch was just the point man. You can bet there will be more. Racine is probably on the way as we speak."

“No.”

Neeley stopped and looked at Hannah, surprised at the certainty of the word. “Why not?”

“Because he sent Mitch after us.”

“And?”

“Racine didn’t expect Mitch to fail, but if he did, then there’s a backup plan. If that fails, then Racine will come.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s been his pattern so far and he’ll continue it.”

Neeley thought through what Hannah had just said and realized the other woman was right. Racine would have a back-up in place. It was what Gant would have done, although she knew Gant would have made himself the primary on any mission. “OK. I buy that. But we still have to get out of here before his back-up plan kicks in.” She went into the house.

Hannah looked up and down the street Neeley’s small house was on. She was tired from the climb and the adrenaline rush had worn off during the drive back from Eldorado Canyon. Neeley had jumped out of the truck as soon as they'd arrived and started loading the gear.

"Are we going to drive to France?" Hannah asked as Neeley bustled past her with another load.

"No, we're flying."

"Not another one of your friends, I hope," Hannah said.

"We'll fly a commercial airliner," Neeley said.

"What about passports? I didn't pack mine in the rush."

"I'll take care of that," Neeley said. "Listen, you mind giving me a hand here?"

Hannah eyed the growing pile of equipment in the truck. "We're going to take all that with us?"

"No, we're not taking it with us," Neeley said, "but I don't want to leave it here for Racine's goons."

"Then what are we going to do with it?"

"We're going to cache the money." Neeley was bunging a pair of skis to the rack on the top of the camper shell. "Just help load the truck, Hannah. Please."

"Are we going skiing?" Hannah asked, a concerned look on her face.

"Just load!"

Hannah bit the inside of her lip and helped. Twenty minutes later, Neeley was driving through Boulder. She pulled into a crowded shopping center and parked. "Wait here," she ordered Hannah. "I have to get a few things in McGuckins." Neeley jogged into the hardware store and shortly reemerged with a shopping cart full of supplies, most of which she quickly piled into the back of the pickup.

As Neeley slid into the driver's seat, she thrust a box of plastic garbage bags and a roll of duct tape at Hannah. "Start bagging the money," she ordered, pointing at the briefcase right behind Hannah's seat. "Break it down into stacks of fifty grand and then triple bag each stack. Tape each bag shut and make sure they're tight. Try to leave as little air in each as possible. Make the bags narrow enough to fit inside the PVC pipe. Leave about thirty grand to take with us."

Hannah opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and got to work. Neeley drove to Broadway and turned right. After three miles Broadway linked up with Colorado 36 and the end of town. She turned onto 36 and drove north, paralleling the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. She checked her rearview mirror constantly and once pulled over to let a row of cars pass her. After ten miles she was sure no one was following them.

Route 36 turned left into the foothills at the small town of Lyons. The road narrowed and started twisting and turning, following St. Vrain Creek into the mountains. They began gaining altitude.

Soon they could see the town of Estes Park ahead, and behind it the white peaks of the Continental Divide. Looking down into the town, Neeley could see that the old Stanley Hotel, where she and Gant had spent some nights a long time ago, had undergone a renovation. It was the hotel Stephen King had based the one in The Shining upon, something Gant had found amusing considering there was a McDonalds less than a quarter mile down the road from the entrance to the hotel.

As they passed through Estes Park, Hannah bound the last of the money. She was immersed in black bundles. "Hope we don't have an accident," Hannah said. "This would be hard to explain."

Neeley hardly heard her. She was playing with the control for her side mirror, angling it up. "We've got company."

Hannah spun about, but the road behind them was clear. "Where?"

"Above us," Neeley said. "There's a chopper above us."

Hannah tried looked to look but couldn't see anything. "You sure it's following us?"

"I'm sure. It's been shadowing us since we passed Lyons."

"Great," Hannah said. “Who are these guys?”

“The Cellar,” Neeley said.

“You’ve told me that,” Hannah said. “But who is exactly is this Cellar? Some super secret part of the CIA?”

Neeley shook her head. “I don’t think the Cellar is part of the CIA. I think the CIA may be part of the Cellar. Or they’re totally separate. I don’t know.”

“What now?” Hannah asked.

"I'm getting tired of following their lead," Neeley said. "Time to take the initiative. I'm going to make them play on our terms. First thing is to get that chopper down on the ground."

"How?"

In reply Neeley pointed at a sign that indicated that the entrance for the Rocky Mountain National Park was less than five miles ahead.

"So?"

"Trust me," was Neeley's answer.

The entrance to the Park was barricaded and the small booths were empty. A sign hung on the metal bar said the park would be opening Memorial Day weekend, which was still several weeks ahead. Neeley drove the truck off-road to the right of the gate. She regained the road on the far side and they headed into the park.

Hannah twisted her head as they entered a large meadow with mountains on all sides. "What are those?" she exclaimed as several large brown animals crossed the road in front of them.

"Mountain sheep," Neeley said. She was looking in her mirror. The chopper was hanging in the air several miles back. Neeley pointed across the meadow toward the snow-covered peaks while they waited for the sheep to cross. "See that thin line up there?"

Hannah craned her neck and stared. "Yes."

"That's Trail Ridge Road. That's where we're going."

"How high is that?"

"At that point? About twelve thousand feet."

"And then?"

"And then we take care of business."

They rounded the far end of the meadow and the road began going back and forth in long, forested switchbacks. Hannah sat silently and watched the scenery change with the climb. The first traces of snow started as they passed Many Peaks Curve. Despite the fact that the road had been plowed since the last snowfall, Neeley had to shift into four-wheel drive to deal with patches of snow blown across the asphalt. Hannah took a look out her window at the meadow, which was now over two thousand feet below them.

"See the chopper?" Neeley asked.

Hannah nodded. "It's over the meadow." As she continued to watch, the aircraft touched down briefly on the road they had traversed ten minutes earlier, bounced back up into the air, then settled down on the road, this time to stay.

"It's landed," Hannah said. "What's wrong with it?"

"Helicopters have low ceilings," Neeley said. "If they've got more than two or three guys in that thing it won't have the power to go much higher. They'll have to find some other means of transportation and that will give us enough time."

Neeley made another switchback and the meadow disappeared from view. Soon they passed a sign indicating they were going through twelve thousand feet in altitude. To the right, Hannah could see all the way back to the town of Estes Park beyond the park's entrance and four thousand feet down. The helicopter in the meadow three thousand feet below looked like an ant. To the left, the side of a mountain stretched up another thousand feet, the slope covered in several feet of snow.

Neeley pulled the pickup truck over. "We go up from here," she announced. "That's Sundance Mountain. We'll cache the money near the summit. It's only another thousand feet."

Hannah eyed the snow-covered slope and shook her head. "Uh-uh. No way."

Neeley handed her a set of small metal snowshoes, ski boots and a heavy parka. "Put these on. The boots are an old pair of mine. They should fit you. The snowshoes attach to them."

"Listen—" Hannah began, but Neeley cut her off.

"Do it. Now!"

With a grimace, Hannah put on the heavy plastic boots and began strapping the snowshoes to them. Neeley took the black bundles of money and shoved them into foot and a half sections of eight inch PVC piping that she'd purchased. She screwed caps onto each end and then sealed the ends with duct tape.

Neeley stuffed a folding entrenching tool and the PVC pipes into a backpack. She took out one of Gant's weapons cases and attached it to her backpack. She slung an MP-5 submachinegun over her shoulder and put extra magazines in the pocket of her parka. "Here," she said, extending the Berretta 9mm pistol to Hannah. "Stick this in one of your pockets."

Before Hannah had a chance to protest, Neeley handed her a set of skis. "Balance them on your shoulder. Let's go." Neeley kicked the toe of her snowshoe into the plowed snow on the side of the road and began climbing. Hannah stood there, skis in hand for a few moments, and then grudgingly followed.

After two hundred feet, Neeley paused and looked back. Hannah was fifty feet behind. Neeley scanned Trail Ridge Road. She spotted a Park Service Suburban coming their way, a thousand feet below and four miles away. She opened the weapons case and took out the sniper rifle that she had used in the Bronx. She quickly bolted the two parts together. She had taken off the suppressor earlier. She removed a 10 round magazine with a thin piece of red tape wrapped around the bottom, indicating these were hot loads, not the blue taped sub-sonic rounds. She slammed it home.

Neeley put her eye to the scope and twisted the focus. The men inside were dressed in black fatigues and had weapons. They must have stolen the parked vehicle from one of the closed Ranger Stations. Someone was staring back at her with binoculars from the rear seat of the truck.

"Let's go!" she called out to Hannah.

Hannah didn't have the breath to reply. It was like climbing a never-ending sand dune with boards strapped to her feet. She could feel sweat pouring down her back and her lungs were straining in the thin air to grab oxygen.

Neeley picked up the pace. The slope they were climbing was concave. There were trees on both sides, but their position at the center was clear. Neeley didn't figure it would help telling Hannah the reason there were no trees here was because it was an avalanche area. The top of the mountain was really a four hundred yard wide ridge, completing the top of the concave slope. When Neeley got within fifty meters of the top, she halted. She threw her pack down in the snow. Hannah was a hundred meters behind.

Neeley took the two ski poles and stuck them in the ground forming a waist high X. Sitting on her backpack, Neeley placed the forward stock of the rifle on the junction of the poles and put the scope to her right eye. She zoomed past Hannah's tortured face. The Suburban was less than a quarter mile from the pickup.

Neeley pulled back the bolt on the Accuracy International, chambering a round. She zeroed the crosshairs on a point on the front windshield and pulled the trigger. The round hit the shatterproof glass and an explosion of cracks emanated from the impact point. About two inches to the left of her aiming point Neeley calculated as the truck slid to a halt and four men piled out, crouching on the far side of the Suburban, pistols and submachineguns drawn. Neeley made the necessary adjustment to the scope so that it would be zeroed.

Hannah had thrown herself to the snow when Neeley fired. Now she stood, dusting herself off and continued up as Neeley yelled to her it was safe. "Their guns can't reach this far," she assured Hannah.

For good measure, Neeley fired a round into the left front tire, blowing it out. Then she waited, keeping the truck in her scope until Hannah reached her side.

"What now?" Hannah gasped, collapsing into the snow.

"Dig a few holes, here and there," Neeley said.

"What?" Hannah demanded.

"Just dig a few holes, not too deep, just enough to disturb the snow and make it look like something's been buried," Neeley unfolded and handed the shovel to Hannah, then went back to her watch.

Hannah leaned on the handle and stared at her companion. "I'm dying."

Neeley sighed. "You'll be happy while they waste their time looking here."

"You never planned on caching anything up here, did you?" Hannah said. "You just wanted to be able to shoot at those guys who were following us."

Neeley shook her head. "I came up here to get the helicopter out of the picture and give us the high ground, but I do plan on caching the money in the park. Just not here."

"Couldn't we have just buried it in the backyard next to the perennials?" Hannah asked as she thrust the spade into the snow.

"It would be found there."

"Well, what about in the woods around town? Could have saved ourselves the drive."

Neeley was watching one of the men edging his way to the right rear of the truck, getting ready to make a dash to outflank her. "The National Park is the best place. We're guaranteed that it won't be disturbed. Any place else and they can put a shopping mall on top of your cache site before you get back to it."

Neeley drew in her breath and held it. The man started his run and she fired. The 7.62 mm round tore through his right thigh and knocked him over the edge of the road, tumbling down into the pine trees on the slope below. The other three men fired futilely with their pistols and submachineguns but the rounds fell well short.

"I thought you said the helicopter couldn't fly this high," Hannah said, pointing.

Neeley pulled her eye away from the scope. The chopper was about a kilometer away to the northeast, and gaining altitude.

"Not with all those men on board," Neeley said, "but with just the pilot and one other man, it looks like it can." She shifted the muzzle of her weapon toward the new threat. As she did so, the three men all burst from cover and dashed into the trees to Neeley's right front, eight hundred feet below. Neeley snapped a quick shot but the round ricocheted off the tarmac and the three were safe under cover.

"Shit," Neeley muttered. She looked back. Hannah had turned over snow in about a dozen places. "Enough."

The helicopter was closing, less than half a mile away. Neeley aimed and fired three rapid shots at the engine. She was rewarded by a stream of smoke pouring out of the cowling.

The helicopter banked left and disappeared out of sight downslope. Neeley turned her attention back to the trees on the right side of the slope.

"All right," Neeley said to Hannah as she broke the sniper rifle back down. "Time to go skiing. We'll head through those trees to the left." She put the gun into the case. "They're on foot and we'll be long gone before they get back down."

Hannah stared at her. "I don't know how to ski."

Neeley froze. "Why didn't you tell me that before we climbed up here? Why do you think you hauled those skis up here?"

"You didn't give me much chance to say anything," Hannah said. "It was do this, Hannah, do that. I tried to tell—"

"You've never skied?"

"Never."

"Great." Neeley looked down at the pickup truck, and then across at the trees where she knew the three gunmen were making their way, trying to get in range.

"Listen," Hannah said. "The whole idea of skiing is to get down the hill fast, right?"

Neeley absently nodded, her head filled with tactical considerations. She pulled an MP-5 submachinegun out of the pack and slipped the sling over her neck.

"Then I think this will work," Hannah said.

Neeley finally paid attention and turned. Hannah was kneeling on her parka, the smooth Gore-Tex side facedown in the snow. "See you at the bottom," Hannah said as she pushed off and lay belly down on the material.

"Hannah, don't!" Neeley cried, but it was too late as Hannah accelerated down slope.

"Shit!" Neeley exclaimed as Hannah pulled away. In another hundred yards she would be in range of the men in the trees. Neeley threw on her backpack, strapped the sniper rifle case to it and grabbed the ski poles. With a shove of the poles, Neeley was off. She headed directly for the trees to her right front.

Neeley dropped her poles as she reached the trees, trusting to the edges of her skis and her skill to keep her from doing a face plant into one of the trunks. She pulled back the charging handle on the MP-5.

Hannah was literally flying down the steep slope. She tried digging the tips of her boots into the snow to slow down, but it did little good. She notices little puffs of snows popping up in front of her and momentarily wondered what they were. Then she heard the echoes of the guns going off. Hannah rolled to her left, tumbling off the parka, but her speed was such that she continued downhill, a gaggle of arms and legs and flying snow.

Neeley flashed between two trees almost right on top of the first gunman. He heard her skis on the snow and was turning, but much too slowly as she fired a quick three round burst into his chest, slamming him against a tree, staining it with blood as he slid to the ground.

Neeley bent low at the knees, digging her left ski edges in and turned, hooking around a thick grove, then reversed course in a spray of snow. The other two men were suddenly twenty feet in front of her, turning from firing at Hannah. Neeley pulled the trigger on the MP-5 and nothing happened. She couldn't stop, heading directly for the two men. There was a small ridge between her and them and she pointed her tips straight for it, leaning forward to gain speed but also to make as small as target as possible.

Both men fired as she hit the ridge. She pushed off, into the air and flew right between them. They continued firing but the jump caught them by surprise. Before they could correct they were shooting at each other. The man on the left took several rounds in the chest from his partner. The one on the right took a round in the shoulder and pirouetted into the snow as Neeley crash-landed less than fifteen feet away.

Neeley's feet popped out of the bindings and she rolled, letting go of the useless submachinegun and pulling her Glock out of her coat pocket. The wounded man was on his knees, bringing up the muzzle of his gun when Neeley fired, doubletapping as Gant had taught her. Both rounds hit the man in the center of his forehead and he flopped back into the snow, his blood and brain spreading out below him in a red stain.

Neeley slowly stood. She checked the MP-5. Snow from the turn she had made was jammed in the breech. She looked behind her toward the open slope as she recovered her skis.

Hannah was slowing down but the plowed road was rapidly approaching. Hannah hit the ridge of snow that the plow had left. The impact knocked the wind out of her and she almost stopped but tumbled over the edge onto the side of the road. Hannah lay there gasping for air.

"You bitch!" a man's voice caught her attention from the other side of the road near the Suburban. The first man Neeley had wounded was pulling himself around the back of the truck, his wounded leg leaving a trail of blood. All Hannah had eyes for was the large gun in his right hand. He centered the muzzle on her forehead and was pulling the trigger when a small black hole appeared on his chest. It was quickly followed by several more. The sound of a gun being fired rolled downslope.

Hannah slumped back against the snow and looked to her rear. Neeley was skiing down, her pistol held with both hands leading the way. She halted just before the road with a swift turn to her left, spewing snow over the edge onto Hannah.

"Next time, don't do anything until we agree on a course of action," Neeley hissed.

"You never told me the course of action until it was too late," Hannah said, dusting snow off her sweater.

Neeley was trembling as she popped out of her bindings and joined Hannah on the road. "Damn, Hannah, that was close."

"Let's get out of here. Now." Hannah walked toward the pickup ignoring the body and Neeley followed.

Once they were in and driving back the way they had come, Hannah reached across the cab and poked a finger in Neeley's shoulder. "Next time you decide to set up an ambush, tell me, OK?"

"All right." Neeley sighed, and then looked over at Hannah. "Listen, I'm just not used to explaining—" she paused as Hannah yelled: "Watch out!"

The helicopter was astride the road in front of them, less than sixty feet away on a bend in the road. The pilot was just as startled by their appearance, looking out his door at the truck. Another man was standing in the cargo bay, a submachinegun in his hands.

Neeley automatically brought her foot off the gas toward the brake, and just as quickly slammed her foot down on the gas pedal. The V-8 engine roared and the truck accelerated.

The man with the submachinegun put the stock in his shoulder and was aiming. He was getting ready to pull the trigger when he realized the truck wasn't slowing down. He dropped the sub and turned to jump, just as the front grill of the truck smashed into the side of the chopper.

Neeley slammed on her brakes as they hit. The impact neatly bounced the lightweight chopper off the road and into the abyss on the far side of the turn. The gunman went flying out further, into open space.

Neeley and Hannah stepped out of the stopped truck and followed the course of the helicopter down. It was over a thousand feet to the valley floor below. Neeley blinked as she heard the whine of engines and the blades on the falling aircraft slowly started to turn.

"No way," she muttered. And there was no way the damaged engine could get up to speed in time. The chopper hit bottom in a blossom of flame.

"Let's go," Neeley said, getting back in the truck.

They peeled rubber around the turn.

"What about the money?" Hannah asked.

Neeley didn't say anything for fifteen minutes, until she pulled into a roadside parking area at Beaver Ponds, a nature walk area well away from the scene of their recent battle. She grabbed the PVC pipes with the money and got out of the truck.

"Stay here," she ordered Hannah. "I'll be right back."

Neeley had learned the art of caching from Gant who'd been taught it at the Special Forces Qualification course at Fort Bragg over two decades ago. He'd shown her that it was a much more complicated skill than simply digging a hole in the ground and chucking something in. The first concern was to make sure that whatever was cached would be recovered in useable condition.

The next priority was to find a good spot to put the item. Neeley looked about. Approximately fifty meters away she spotted a pine tree that towered over the other trees. Neeley shot an azimuth to the pine from the corner of the parking area. 47 degrees magnetic. She drew the parking lot on a piece of paper and an arrow, labeling the direction. She then stepped out the distance to the pine, using the pace count Gant had worked out with her — every seventy-two strikes of her right foot equaled one hundred meters. It was thirty-one right steps to the pine. Neeley labeled the arrow with forty-five meters.

From the base of the tree she looked about. The pine needle floor was perfect. Neeley put the pipe down. She stepped out four paces from the tree due south. She laid a garbage bag down on the ground and carefully began the hole. First she slid a piece of cardboard under the needles and scooped them up intact, putting it off to the side. Then she removed the topsoil and placed it on the plastic bag. Each different layer of earth was placed on the plastic in piles, to be put back in the same order it came out. Neeley dug a three foot round hole, down almost three feet. She put the tubes in. She replaced the dirt, making sure to put the top layer back on last and then slid the needles back on top. A bit of careful rearranging and it looked undisturbed.

Neeley put the dirt displaced by the PVC piping into the garbage bag and brought it back to the truck, tossing it in the back. She transcribed the map she had drawn into a Special Forces cache report format as Gant had taught her.

Neeley copied the report onto the lower part of the paper and then quickly tore it in half. "Here," she handed the scrawled copy to Hannah who had watched her in silence.

"What do I do with this?" Hannah asked in surprise.

"Isn't it obvious? If something happens to me, dig the money up."

Hannah shook her head. "Neeley, I'm touched, really, but you don't know me. We only met a few days ago."

Neeley held out the report. "I know you better than anyone on the planet. Besides, you knew your husband for years and what did that get you? I want you to have the report Hannah and that's all that matters."

Hannah took the report. "What now?" she asked.

"We go to the airport."