Lost Lake

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

It took Sam Cutler a week, and the small fortune he had paid to Robert Bloom-an FBI agent with a cocaine habit-to discover where Victor Hobson had stashed his star witness. After viewing aerial surveillance photographs of the Nebraska farm, Cutler told Wingate that he did not like the setup one bit. Wingate had answered that the FBI used this remote spot for a safe house because it was difficult to attack. The farm was miles from the interstate, so anyone driving to it would stand out like the Rockies in the flat landscape. A locked gate separated the dirt road that led to the farmhouse from a paved state road. On either side of the gate were miles of barbed wire. The dirt road ran like an arrow through fields of corn that could provide cover for the attack force, but the fields ended a distance from the farmhouse where Carl was living with an FBI security detail, and there was open land between the house and the cornfields that provided no cover.

Wingate and Cutler had discussed their options and decided that they had none. They didn’t know how long Rice would be kept at the farm. If Hobson moved him, they’d have to start all over again. So Sam Cutler had assembled the team of six men he’d used to grab Vanessa and had driven to Omaha, eschewing air transport because of video surveillance and paper trails that could eventually lead back to the General.

There was no moon on the evening of the assault. Cutler parked half a mile from the entrance to the farm. One of his men cut a hole in the barbed wire and the team moved into the shelter of the cornfield, where the tall stalks blocked the cold wind that had cut through the men as soon as they left the shelter of their car. Using a Global Positioning System, Cutler maneuvered through the rows of corn, stopping just before the open ground. He scanned the farmhouse through night-vision binoculars. A guard was smoking a cigarette on the porch. Another guard was patrolling the perimeter. Cutler was disgusted by the sloppiness of the security detail. Two of his men were deadly accurate with a sniper rifle and would be able to pick off the guards without making a sound before the attack force ever left the cover of the cornfield.

How many guards would that leave inside? The overflight that had given the team the aerial surveillance photos had registered heat signatures for six human beings: Carl and five guards. But the overflight had been more than twenty-four hours earlier, and more agents could have arrived.

Just as Cutler was about to command the snipers to kill the guards, the agent on the porch snuffed out his cigarette and walked inside, and the man who was patrolling the perimeter walked out of sight behind the farmhouse. Suddenly, no one was watching the ground between Cutler’s position and the farmhouse. He made a split decision.

“Double-time to the house,” he commanded. If they could cover the ground fast enough, they could use the element of surprise to take out everyone inside.

The men were halfway across the open space when Cutler’s two snipers went down and the assault team was bathed in light. Cutler was temporarily blinded and threw a forearm across his eyes.

“Order your men to throw down their weapons, Mr. Cutler,” a voice, amplified by a bullhorn, boomed out. “You’re surrounded and you have no chance of escape.”

Soldiers were beginning to emerge from the cornfields just as it dawned on Cutler that his wounded men had been shot from the farmhouse.

“We’ve had you under surveillance since you paid Robert Bloom for the location of this safe house. He’s under arrest, by the way. You’ve been set up, Sam, and there’s only one way out for you and your men-cooperation. So throw down your weapons. We’ll take care of your wounded, and you and I can have a talk.”

Cutler knew that he and his men would die if he opted for a shootout, so he told them to lay down their arms. Several medics attended to the wounded snipers. His men were cuffed and led toward the barn, while three soldiers walked Cutler to the farmhouse.

Ted Schoonover was sitting in the parlor in an overstuffed easy chair. A fire was roaring in the grate. Tiffany lamps sat on oak end tables, and an embroidered antimacassar covered the back of a sofa decorated with a floral pattern. On the wall was an oil painting of cows grazing in a field. Cutler would not have blinked if Ma and Pa Kettle had appeared out of a side room. Instead, Carl Rice and Victor Hobson joined the president’s aide.

“Sit down, Sam,” Schoonover said, indicating a hard wooden ladder-back chair. Cutler settled in and his guards stood by, on the alert even though he’d been disarmed and his hands were cuffed behind him.

“Can I have these cuffs off?” Cutler asked.

Schoonover smiled. “Not a chance, Sam. You’re way too dangerous even with them on. Now, let me explain the program. I’m going to make you an offer. Then, whether you accept or not, you’re going to join your men in one of those secret locations where we interrogate terrorists. Don’t ask for a phone call or a lawyer. Your civil rights don’t exist anymore-but all is not lost.”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ll make this simple, Sam. We want Morris Wingate. I’m sure he explained about the pay records. Coupled with his lies at his daughter’s bail hearing and Carl’s testimony, that gives us a shot at convicting him of something-perjury at a minimum. But I’ll be honest, that might be all we can nail him on-unless we can produce a witness who will corroborate Carl’s testimony.”

“Me,” Cutler said.

Schoonover nodded. “One or more of the men we just captured might also be helpful. We’ll know soon. They’re tough, but we’ll break them eventually if they decide not to cooperate. But you’re the prize, the inside man, Wingate’s chief lieutenant.”

Cutler didn’t say a thing, but everyone could see that he was thinking hard.

“As of now, you’re disappeared, Sam, and the General is not going to help you. He can’t. So, you’re on your own.”

“This is sort of like the mission to rescue the MIAs,” Carl said. “The General wrote off the men in the Unit, and he’ll do the same to you. The moment you were captured you became expendable.”

“Thanks for your concern, Carl,” Cutler said.

“Don’t become confused,” Carl said. “I’d as soon see you dead after what you did to the Unit, but I want to see Wingate destroyed, and you’re the key.”

“So, what do you say?” Schoonover asked.

“I’ll want more than life in a cage, if I’m going to cooperate,” Cutler said.

“We have to know what you can do for us before we can talk about concessions.”

“I can do plenty, believe me,” Cutler said.