Hunting Savage Page 29

  Ellison produced a Beretta 9mm pistol and pulled the slide back to chamber a round. He had a man grab the handle on each door, ready to throw it open.

  “On three. Ready?” Ellison said. “One… Two… Three…”

  The double doors flew wide and the guards poured in, fanning out as they entered the brightly lit service facility. Some dropped to a knee and shouldered their MP5SD submachine guns, the silencers making the barrels look fat, almost like a short-barreled shotgun. Others stood, brandishing submachine guns or pistols.

  Peter was standing by the improvised mine when the doors burst open. With his back to Ellison’s men, he opened the gas valve on the propane torch. Then he cast a glance to Nadya. She was stationed at the side of the APC, her hands were on the extensions cords, ready to plug them together upon Peter’s order. The Beretta pistol rested on the tracks next to the electrical cords.

  Ellison stepped forward and lowered his gun. He had half expected Peter and Nadya to be gone—to have somehow escaped and fled. The fact that they were still here was good. In a moment, his men would take them into custody again. This time there would be no delays prior to questioning. And when Claude Duss had his answers, when he had learned all he sought to learn, then Ellison would bury both Peter Savage and Nadya Wheeler in the desert.

  “The two of you make a very resourceful pair,” Ellison said. Kennor struggled at his bonds and grunted, but no intelligent communication could escape through his taped mouth. “Perhaps later you’ll tell me how you overpowered my guard. But first, my boss wants to have a discussion with you.”

  “Right. And exactly where is your boss?” Peter asked. He was standing between the mine and the tool chest.

  Before Ellison could answer, Duss stepped forward. His arms were folded across his chest. “I must say, Peter Savage, you have caused me a great deal of trouble.”

  “Well, it’s the least I could do,” Peter replied. He looked at the black hair, thin face and stern features of Duss and wondered what the face would look like if he smiled. In his mind, he couldn’t imagine anything resembling humor in those dark, threatening eyes.

  “Step forward, both of you. Hands up!” Ellison ordered. Duss was standing by his side.

  Nadya glanced to Peter, taking her cue from his actions.

  Peter stood his ground. “Before we do, aren’t you just a little curious what we’ve been up to?”

  Ellison raised an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly. “Look at all these guns trained on the two of you. Do you really think you can bluff your way to freedom?”

  Peter drew in a deep breath and exhaled. He pinched his lips together and drew back the corners of his mouth, but his gaze never left Ellison and Duss.

  “If you shoot us,” Peter said, addressing Ellison, “your boss won’t be very happy.”

  “Correction. You mean, if I kill you. My men are excellent marksmen, and at this range wounding you will be easy. So, as the saying goes, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “I see.” Peter paused, his eyes taking in the deployment of men before him. It was impossible to predict what the spread would be for the steel nuts in the mine. But given their irregular shape, Peter assumed they would spread considerably. Naturally, the highest density would be directly in front of the mine. That’s where Ellison and Duss stood.

  Of course, it was also entirely possible that the mine would be a dud. If that happened, he and Nadya were doomed.

  He quickly thought through the sequence of events again, picturing each step.

  “Mr. Savage. This is my last warning. Raise your hands and—”

  “Now!” Peter yelled. At the same instant he shoved his shoulder into the tool chest and heaved to the side. The chest glided on roller-bearing castors to the side and Peter pivoted, diving for the concrete floor. His body slid to the side of the APC.

  As soon has Nadya heard Peter’s signal, she plugged the electrical cords together, setting off an irreversible chain of events. Electrical current surged to the steel wool, instantly sparking it ablaze. The propane gas issuing from the torch ignited. The high-intensity blue flame impinged upon the detonator.

  One full second after Nadya initiated the chain reaction, the mine detonated.

  Chapter 49

  UA Test Range, Eastern Oregon

  April 26

  As soon as Peter shoved aside the tool chest, Ellison was in motion, thrusting his body in front of Duss. When the mine detonated, Nadya and Peter were shielded from the blast wave by the body of the APC. Still, even with hands cupped over their ears, the sound was almost deafening, and painful. The blast wave punched their bodies, squeezing air from their lungs.

  After taking a moment to suck in air, Peter rose to his knees and took in the carnage. Bodies lay scattered in unnatural positions, nearly all with blood pooling around them. Peter didn’t see Duss, although he thought he recognized Ellison’s body, lying face down on top of another. Only three men were standing, and they were dazed, unfocused.

  Nadya recovered first and held the Beretta in both hands, squeezing off controlled shots at the highest threat targets.

  Boom! Boom!

  Boom! Boom!

  Boom! Boom!

  The mercenaries fell, each receiving two slugs in the chest.

  Peter rose to his feet and scooped up a silenced submachine gun from the closest body. His head felt like it was tightly wrapped in a sound-proof blanket; the ringing in his ears was nearly unbearable. He saw Nadya slowly advancing, pistol pointing wherever her eyes looked.

  Suddenly, two guards rushed through the doorway, firing and running. Nadya dove to the side, seeking cover behind the tool chest. A volley of bullets punched into the chest, only to be stopped by the steel tools within.

  The guards turned toward Peter as he was raising the MP5. Bullets screamed past. He pulled the trigger and cut down first one guard, then the second.

  For a long minute, neither Peter nor Nadya moved. Their eyes staring at the doorway, expecting another charge. It never materialized.

  Although Peter’s ears were still ringing, he was beginning to regain his hearing. Through his peripheral vision, he noticed Nadya rise from the protection of the tool chest and move from body to body. She was kicking weapons out of reach, nudging bodies with her foot, and checking for a pulse. All the while keeping the Beretta ready.

  Peter fixed his gaze on Ellison; his back was riddled with blood. As he approached, he recognized the clothing on the body under Ellison. It was clothing Claude Duss was wearing, but the face was concealed under Ellison’s torso.

  Cautiously, Peter closed the distance. He heard the sound of a muffled groan, quickly silenced by Nadya’s Beretta.

  “Nadya.” He moved his chin toward the two bodies. She understood.

  Holding the pistol in her right hand, she extended her left hand and tugged on Ellison’s collar. His deadweight was heavy and unyielding at first. She repositioned her feet, and pulled again, this time leaning back to free the tangle of bodies.

  Ellison’s corpse came free, and she nearly stumbled as her balance was thrown off by the shifting weight.

  “Drop your weapons, both of you,” Duss commanded. He was gripping Ellison’s pistol and had it pointed at Nadya, only three feet away.

  She hesitated, calculating her moves and the required time. Her pistol was in her strong hand, but it was pointed uselessly at the floor. She’d never bring it to bear on Duss before he shot her dead.

  Peter also hesitated, shifting his hands on the MP5SD and lowering his head so his sight line was perfect. Very subtly, he pulled the gun into his shoulder and began applying pressure to the trigger.

  “I said drop it! You too, Mr. Savage.”

  Reluctantly Nadya complied and the gun clanged on the concrete. Her training as a Mossad agent was to never give up your weapon in a hostage situation. But that instruction seemed senseless when she was literally staring into the barrel of Duss’ gun.

  “You can’t get away with i
t,” Peter said with a calm, controlled voice.

  As if to underscore Peter’s statement, sirens wailed faintly. They were still far off, but getting closer.

  “Put your weapon down, Mr. Savage. This is your last warning.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Peter.”

  “Mr. Savage. I never bluff.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you do.” Then Peter pulled the trigger.

  At the sound, Nadya fell to the side, anticipating to be shot over and over. But she never felt the pain of slugs slamming into her chest.

  Duss cried out, clutching his hand. The pistol was beyond reach even if he could have grasped it.

  “You shot me!” Duss screamed. His eyes bulged, and spittle appeared at the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward, pulling the wounded hand in close to his chest, his blood mingling with that from Ellison.

  “I’ll kill you! You hear me? You’re dead. Dead! I’ll never rest until my men hunt you down.”

  “Yeah, well you’ve already tried, remember? And that didn’t go the way you planned.”

  Duss tried to rise only to be shoved back down by Nadya. She was aiming her Beretta once again at him. For his part, he didn’t acknowledge Nadya at all but glared at Peter with pure hatred.

  The sirens were very loud now, and Peter estimated the first responders would be there in minutes. “So let me give you a reality check, okay? First, your men are either dead, or wounded and incapacitated. You are also wounded and incapacitated. There are two guns pointed at you, and either of us would gladly kill you if that becomes necessary.”

  The malevolence still burned fiercely in Duss’ eyes. “So why don’t you shoot me now? You want to.”

  Peter allowed his lips to twist into a cocky grin. “Actually, I don’t. We were going to have a conversation, remember? Only now, I’ll ask the questions.”

  “I’m bleeding. I need medical treatment.”

  “Don’t worry,” Nadya replied. “I’m sure there are EMTs among the first responders. They’ll be here soon.”

  Peter walked over to the first aid kit mounted on the wall near the doorway. He opened it and soon found some gauze packs and a triangular bandage. “Here,” he said, dropping the supplies in Duss’ lap. “That’ll keep the bleeding in check. So how about some Q and A while we wait for law enforcement to arrive?”

  Duss ignored the question while he busied himself bandaging his right hand, the forearm streaked with blood to his elbow.

  “Why were you trying to kill me?”

  Duss finished snugging a knot by gripping a corner of the cloth in his teeth. His hand was wrapped in layer upon layer of gauze and white cotton, but blood was already beginning to seep through.

  He remained defiant. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “It’s the files, right? What’s your connection anyway?” Peter prodded.

  Nadya keep the Beretta pointed at Duss. She was becoming increasingly impatient.

  “Well,” Peter continued, “it doesn’t really matter. I’ll release the files to the media. Combined with the helicopter gunship attack in the mountains and this… event… here, I’m sure all the major newspapers and TV stations will pick up the story. It’ll make national headlines for weeks.”

  Duss coughed out a mocking laugh. “You really don’t get it. Even now, you still don’t understand.”

  Peter’s brow wrinkled. “Get what? Once I release the files, there won’t be any secrets to protect anymore.”

  Duss laughed. “Are you really that stupid? Do you really think this is about an obscure event that happened in 1967?”

  “No. I know it’s more than that. You stand to gain handsomely if the U.S. goes to war. And war is coming if Schuman is elected President, isn’t it?”

  The mirth left Duss’ face, his jaw taking a hard edge once again. “I run a legitimate business—essential to national security. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Peter met Nadya’s gaze. The sirens were loud, and then one by one they went silent. Help had finally arrived.

  Outside, law enforcement officers surrounded the building. Portable floodlights were set up and soon the sound of generators softly humming could be heard inside.

  “Release the files; it doesn’t matter any longer,” Duss said. “And get used to looking over your shoulder. If you’re lucky, you’ll spend years in prison for murdering my men here. If you ever get out, you’ll have a very large price on your head.”

  “This was self-defense.” Peter felt his face flushing, heard his voice rising. “You’re the one who will spend the rest of his life behind bars.”

  “That’s not the story my attorneys will sell to the jury. Besides, I have a get-out-of-jail-free card.” He shifted his eyes to Nadya again. “I understand the Mossad are very good at terminating their marks, and they never forgive, isn’t that true?”

  She lowered her gun a little and faced Peter. “He’s right. If they mark you, they will never stop until you are dead.”

  A loud bang sounded at the front door. It wasn’t a gunshot or explosion, rather metal smashing into the steel door.

  “They’re breaching the door,” Peter said. He ejected the magazine from the submachine gun and threw it across the room. Then he cycled the action, ejecting the round from the chamber. Nadya followed his lead and tossed the unloaded Beretta well out of reach. Peter draped the black nylon-web sling over Duss’s head and laid the MP5SB in his lap.

  Another bang echoed through the hallway, followed by the slam of the door into the wall as it burst open under repeated blows from the battering ram.

  Nadya and Peter sat, hands raised, to either side of Claude Duss, who was still holding his injured hand against his chest. He was attempting to slip the black sling off his shoulder when the first Sheriff Deputy edged around the corner of the hallway. He was leading with an M4 assault rifle.

  “Don’t move! Raise your hands!”

  “I need medical help,” Duss said. “They tried to kill me.”

  “Raise your hands!”

  Slowly, Duss complied.

  More deputies appeared and rushed into the large room. The smell of blood and urine and guts was almost as strong as the visual image of total carnage. It was the worst massacre any had seen. Bodies were bent at unnatural angles, flesh ripped from limbs. Other than the shuffling of their boots, it was eerily silent.

  “Keep your hands up!” someone shouted, and a deputy roughly removed the weapon slung over Duss’ head. Others walked among the corpses, occasionally checking for a pulse. A deputy rushed to the APC where Kennor was wired to the tow loop. He ripped off the tape and confirmed the man was alive.

  One of them spoke into a microphone attached to his shoulder epaulet. “Secured. Send in the EMTs. We have four survivors. Looks like a gunshot wound to the hand of one of ‘em.”

  “My name is Nadya Wheeler. I radioed for help.”

  She was met with a blank stare from the deputies. All rifles still aimed at the three of them.

  “Is Detective Colson from the Bend PD with you?” she asked.

  One of the deputies left and returned on the heels of the EMTs, Detective Colson at his side.

  “I’m not injured,” Nadya said to a pair of EMTs while others attended to Duss.

  Colson approached Peter. He shrugged off the paramedics. “Well, well. Mr. Savage.” She met his eyes with a stern countenance. “You do have a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Colson cast her gaze around the room. “Your doing?”

  “My friend here,” he nodded to Duss, “arranged to have me plucked off the street a few hours ago by his goons. Right in front of my home. His men tied us up in this room.”

  “You and the young lady—Nadya Wheeler?”

  Peter nodded.

  “I did no such thing. He’s lying.”

  One of the paramedics got in Duss’ face. “You need to calm down, sir. We’re going to put you on an IV and get some fluids in you. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

>   “They tried to kill me!”

  “Sir,” the EMT commanded, “you need to calm down.”

  Nadya addressed Colson. “Ellison, that man there,” she pointed to the body, “worked for Duss. He was orchestrating the murders in Bend and the attack in the mountains.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this, so why don’t you enlighten me?”

  Nadya glanced at Peter, and then focused on Colson. “I work for Israeli intelligence.”

  “Don’t listen to her!” Duss shouted as he was being strapped onto a gurney.

  Colson rolled her eyes. “So much for wrapping this up quickly.”

  “I’ll give you a full statement and answer all your questions at your headquarters.”

  “Yes, you will. You too, Mr. Savage.”

  Chapter 50

  Bend, Oregon

  April 27

  After a long night of seemingly endless questioning by the detectives, Peter and Nadya were released with stern orders not to leave town. “I mean it, Mr. Savage,” Detective Colson admonished.

  After conferring with two Crook County Sheriff Investigators, who participated in the questioning, they decided there was insufficient evidence to implicate Peter or Nadya for any crime. For once, Colson had to admit that it appeared Peter was a victim.

  It was still dark outside when the detective drove the two to Peter’s home. “Remember what I said. Don’t leave town.”

  Peter nodded as he stepped out of the unmarked car. He climbed the steps, unlocked the door, and held it open for Nadya. Diesel greeted him as usual, and this time the canine didn’t growl at Nadya.

  As tired as he was, Peter really needed to talk to Jim. He offered Nadya the guest room, but she wanted to participate in the call. They sat at the counter in the kitchen, and Peter dialed the number.

  “Jim, it’s Peter. I have you on speaker. Nadya Wheeler is with me.”

  Nadya identified herself and gave the name of her superior in Tel Aviv.

  “I’ll have one of my analysts verify your identity. But until we do, this conversation will not be candid.”

  “Understood,” Peter said. “I need to bring you up to speed. Last night, some hired guns working for United Armaments snatched me in front of my home. Nadya was taken also. They intended to question us at a test range in Crook County, Eastern Oregon.”