The Gatekeeper

Twenty-Five

Randall watched, completely disheartened, as they loaded the last barrel onto a truck. It had been encased in a large wooden crate, identical to dozens of others still waiting to be loaded. A forklift maneuvered it into position, then slid it all the way to the back.

“Where does it go now?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” Dante was monitoring the packing, making sure the crate containing the barrel was completely buried behind the others. The other two trucks were already waiting by the door.

Randall rubbed his arm. He’d stripped off the PPE suit, acknowledging the inevitable. A long red burn had appeared, though whether it was an actual rash or due to his constant scratching was debatable. “You’re going to kill me anyway,” Randall said with detachment. “No reason not to tell me.”

“No reason to tell you, either.”

“I’m guessing you’ll kill my family, too,” Randall said.

Dante shrugged, his face unreadable. “We’re not animals.”

At this, Randall barked a laugh. Dante turned and scowled at him. “Killing Americans isn’t what we’re about, Grant. The ones who died gave their lives for the greater good.”

“The greater good? Do you even know what that means?” Randall shook his head. “You’re spouting someone else’s rhetoric.”

Dante’s brow darkened. “It’s not rhetoric.”

“Says the moron who probably couldn’t use the word in a sentence,” Randall scoffed. “Fine, don’t tell me. Your bomb will never work, anyway.”

“What?”

“It won’t work.” Randall shook his head. “Did you honestly think I’d help you, knowing you’d kill my family regardless?”

“What did you do?” Dante’s eyes narrowed.

“Go to hell,” Randall spat.

Without replying Dante whipped out a gun, took a step forward, and fired twice. With an expression of surprise on his face, Randall crumpled to the ground.

Dante watched blood pool around the ruins of Grant’s head. A rumbling, and the first truck rolled down the ramp and out of the warehouse. His gut told him that Grant had been lying. He was too scared to fuck with them, knowing what they were capable of. He was just trying to make them think the plan wouldn’t work. But still…if it failed, Jackson would have his head on a platter.

Dante caught up with the last truck as it was about to exit the building, swinging himself into the cab. He eyed the reflection of Grant’s lifeless form in the side mirror. He had to admit, for a pinhead the guy had some balls. The question was, how far had he been willing to go?

“Syd?” Jake checked her pulse. There was a thin trickle of blood by her temple. He probed it-shallow, probably just a scrape from hitting the ground. She was still breathing, he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest. He lifted her shoulder carefully, turning her on her side. If she’d taken a bullet, it would have been in the back. They were both wearing vests, so unless it was armor-piercing it shouldn’t have penetrated. No sign of blood on her shirt. He felt along her back, the contours of the vest hard against his hand.

She shifted suddenly.

“You okay?” Jake began lowering her down, but she batted his hand away.

Syd’s voice was strained as she said, “That was, hands down, the worst extraction ever.” She sat up stiffly.

Jake could have cried from relief. “Christ, you scared me.”

“Thank God for Kevlar.” She rapped her vest, wincing slightly. “Still feels like I got shot in the back, though. No blood?”

“Nope. If you want to strip down, I can double-check.”

“Sounds like some good kinky fun. But we’ll have to save that for later.” Syd rolled her head from one shoulder to the other. “Our friend still around?”

As if in response, wood spit off the tree they were hiding behind. “We’re pinned down,” Jake confirmed.

“Fantastic. Any word from the others?”

Jake had completely forgotten about the radio. He glanced around but didn’t see it. “I think it dropped when you got hit.”

She gave him a hard look. “And you didn’t retrieve it?”

“I decided to grab you instead,” Jake retorted, a flush rising in his cheeks. “But the radio would probably be more grateful.”

“More useful, anyway.” Syd pulled herself up until she was leaning back against the tree. “Has he moved?”

“Not yet, as far as I can tell.”

“Well, he’ll be coming in soon, he knows he’s got us. He’ll look for a better angle on this side of the tree. We need to keep moving, distract him.”

“I think he’s got a laser sight. His aim was too good,” Jake said.

“How many rounds do you have left?”

Jake checked. “Plenty, as long as we aren’t here for a few days.”

“All right.” Syd checked her own weapon, moving awkwardly. “We should move.”

Jake eyed her with concern. “You sure you can manage it?”

“Please. I once made it five miles with a bullet in my side. I can handle it.” She shifted to a crouch, gun ready. “Let’s head toward the river, we can split up there and trap him between us.”

“That brings us farther from the car.”

“We take care of him, then go back for the radio and call Maltz from the car.” Sensing his skepticism, she laid a hand on his arm and said, “Trust me, Jake. I’ve been through worse.”

Jake was having a hard time imagining a worse scenario. He’d never been pinned down like this. Despite his stint in the FBI and later work in private security, the past few days had presented the hairiest situations of his life. Maybe he wasn’t really cut out for this new line of work. But he wasn’t about to admit that to Syd, who unless he was sorely mistaken was thoroughly enjoying herself.

“On three,” she said. “One…two…”

The crack of a rifle, and a yelp. They exchanged glances. “What the hell was that?” Jake asked.

Suddenly, a garbled voice. It took Jake a minute to realize it was being filtered through a loudspeaker. He shrank deeper into the shadows of the tree.

“More hostiles?” Syd hissed in his ear.

“I don’t think so.” Someone was barking orders. Another exchange of fire, then silence.

“I still say we make for the river,” Syd said in a low voice.

A figure approached through the trees, silhouetted hazy-blue by the smoke. Jake stiffened, tightening his grip on his gun.

The man shouted to be heard over the roar of the fire, “Jake Riley, get your ass out here!”

“Who the hell is that?” Syd asked. She looked stupefied.

“The fucking cavalry,” Jake said, face splitting in a wide grin as he stood and emerged from the shadows.

“Thanks for coming,” Jake said, shaking George Fong’s hand as he took him in. The years had been kind to George. He still had that lanky surfer look, broad across the shoulders, lean in the hips, dark hair longer than Bureau specifications. Not surprising since he’d been raised in Hawaii, son of a Japanese mother and native father.

“You kidding? My life is dull now, I can use the excitement.” George nodded toward the burning farmhouse. “Up to trouble as usual, huh? We found a couple good ol’ boys with a sniper rifle. Don’t suppose you’d know anything about that?”

Jake shrugged, and George’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, it’s not what you think,” Jake said defensively. “I’m one of the good guys.”

“Benicia P.D. doesn’t seem to agree. They’ve got a BOLO out for you, something about a couple of dead guys on a boat and a missing girl?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“Sure it isn’t.” George crossed his arms. A beam in the house collapsed with a thundering crack. “Nice handiwork.”

“Not mine.”

“Glad to hear it. Any bodies in there?”

“Not that I know of, but we didn’t get a chance to check.”

“We?” George raised an eyebrow.

Jake glanced back. Syd had finally come out of hiding and was approaching slowly, looking ready to flee at the slightest provocation. “This is my new partner, Syd.”

George looked her over appreciatively. “Sure, the hot former-spy girl. Man, I might have to join this new company.”

“We’re not hiring yet,” Syd responded, trailing her eyes over him, “but I’ll certainly take it into consideration.”

“Perfect. We’ll be all set for our first sexual harassment lawsuit,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. He hated to admit it, but the flirtation bothered him. Of course, women always took to George. It was one of the reasons they’d bonded-the two of them could walk into a Georgetown bar and have the pick of the place. He and George had gone through the Academy together, then split off into different field offices-Jake to Seattle, George to San Francisco. He was one of the few people Jake stayed in touch with after being expelled from the Bureau.

“I’d never sue such a lovely lady,” George said.

“Jesus,” Jake groaned. “So how many agents did you bring?”

“Three from the field office, since it was last-minute,” George said, suddenly all business. “Just so you know, they’re under the impression we’re bringing you in.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, and George shrugged. “Hey, only way I could get any official support. Bureau rules. And even then I had to link it to the kidnapped girl.” He glanced around. “She behind one of these trees, too?”

“We think they set off on foot, probably across the river. She’s with three of my men, her mother and her sister,” Syd said. She’d retrieved the radio and was tinkering with it. “Maltz, do you copy?”

The only response was static.

“And unless the kid joined a biker gang, it appears they’ve got company?” George asked.

“Definitely. We’re not sure how many, though.”

“Christ, Jake. I can always count on you to get my ass in a sling.” George rubbed his chin. “All right. We’ll head north on route 128, across the river. With any luck, we’ll pick up their signal. I’ll see if I can raise the locals to help.”

“You sure the locals aren’t the problem?” Syd asked skeptically.

“My, aren’t we paranoid. You really are a spook.” George grinned. “I assisted on a case up here a few years back. If it’s the same sheriff, he’s good people.”

“We’ll have to chance it, Syd,” Jake said, gazing toward the river. “ Madison can’t walk, she’ll be slowing them down. They’re probably running out of time.”