Coldfall Page 20

  “What now?” I asked, handing the phone back.

  “First, we make a copy of these and send them on to my boss,” BK said, leaning forward and looking at Ashley.

  She got the message and rummaged in his pack until she found a tablet computer.

  “There’s no signal here,” she said, showing BK the phone.

  “Satellite phone in Stick’s pack,” he said, pointing at the other body and looking at me.

  I got the pack off with no trouble this time, stopping and holding it up for BK to see. The heavy fabric had multiple punctures in it from the mine. I handed it to him when he reached out, then he removed a shattered handset and tossed it aside with a grunt.

  “Make copies,” he said to Ashley.

  “That’s good,” I said, “but not what I meant. What do we do now? Can you make it down the mountain?”

  “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” he said. “Now, we’re waitin’ on Trippy. One of those ass bags escaped and he’s huntin’ him.”

  “One guy?” I asked in surprise, then remembered how Trippy had moved in the woods. “Never mind. Seen what he can do.”

  “He’ll bring him back,” BK said. “Just hope he’s still breathin’ so the boss can ask him some questions.”

  “Who’s the boss? General Mathis?” I asked.

  “General Mathis is retired,” BK said, shaking his head. “Know he’s involved in this somehow, but don’t know the details. I was talkin’ ‘bout my boss.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Someone you don’t know,” BK said.

  I started to protest, then thought better. The concept made sense. I stood there for a few minutes, trying to think of something to do and failing miserably. At the moment, we had to wait for Trippy. Besides, it would probably do BK some good to rest for a while.

  While he checked in with the sniper who was watching over us, I sat back down next to Tanya, leaning against the wall. She leaned into me and I put my arm around her as she rested her head on my shoulder. We didn’t speak, just sat there staring at the fire.

  Ashley and BK talked in quiet voices for a few moments, then fell silent. Soon, Tanya was breathing deeply, but I was wide awake. I couldn’t erase the image of the man executing my father from my mind. It didn’t matter who he was or who he worked for, I was going to make all of them pay for what they’d done.

  Chapter 36

  I woke with a start when the door suddenly slammed open. Early morning sunlight and a gust of frigid air preceded a badly beaten man who stumbled as Trippy shoved him through the opening. All of us quickly got to our feet, BK a little slower and with a suppressed grunt. I guess the wound had stiffened up.

  The man’s hands were restrained behind his back and Trippy grabbed an arm and shoved him to the floor. Pulling something out of his pocket, he tossed it across the room, BK snatching it out of the air and holding it up. It was a small jump drive and he looked at Trippy with his eyebrows raised.

  “Had it in his pocket,” Trippy explained.

  BK handed it to Ashley before stepping forward and looking down at the bound man.

  “I know you,” BK said, frowning.

  The man peered up at him with one eye, the other swollen shut. After a moment, he nodded.

  “Syria,” he said, his speech slurred by his damaged mouth.

  “You were a Ranger. What the fuck happened to you?”

  The man shrugged and looked away before answering.

  “Money. Man’s gotta live and this is all I know how to do.”

  BK stared at him, his face unreadable.

  “You’d better see this,” Ashley said quietly, stepping forward and handing the tablet to BK.

  He took it from her hand and tapped the screen. Watched intently for close to two minutes then looked down at the prisoner.

  “This you?”

  The man looked back at him and didn’t answer. BK shot a glance at Trippy who kicked the man in the kidneys hard enough to knock him over and elicit a groan of pain. Ashley gasped, raising her hand over her mouth and staring wide eyed as the man writhed on the floor.

  “This you?” BK repeated in the same calm voice.

  “Fuck you,” the man hissed through clenched teeth.

  As he rolled to the side, I got a look at his profile and an electric jolt passed through me. This was the man that had shot my dad in the head with a pistol! There was no conscious thought, I just leapt for him, hands extended and wrapping around his throat.

  Everyone was caught off guard by my sudden attack, but BK and Trippy recovered quickly and hauled me off the helpless man. With an incredibly strong arm, BK shoved me away even as I was screaming and trying to throw myself back onto the man. Tanya grabbed me from behind and he stepped in front, his hand in the center of my chest as he stared into my eyes.

  “That’s the guy that killed my dad!” I shouted.

  BK nodded as I struggled against Tanya’s hold and his immovable hand.

  “I recognized him, too,” he said softly. “But he’s worth more alive than dead. Relax. He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  Tanya slid her arms down around my waist, pulling me tight against her body.

  “We’ve got him,” she whispered in my ear. “You kill him, we won’t find out who’s behind this.”

  Her words slowly sank in, calming my efforts to break free and attack him again. Finally, I took a deep breath and nodded. BK leaned close to my face and looked directly into my eyes, speaking in a low voice.

  “When the time’s right, he’s yours,” he said, then pressed the tablet into my hands. “Watch this and you’ll know why we need him talking.”

  He watched me for another moment, then turned to look down at the prisoner. Still embracing me, Tanya watched over my shoulder as I raised the tablet and played the video that was paused.

  It was immediately obvious it had been shot by a body camera, just like cops wear. I’d seen plenty of those videos on TV. We watched as whoever was wearing it ran up to a glass door with the FBI logo, then a hand reached out and stuck something on the lock before the view spun away. Two seconds later, he ran through the door and down a hall, arriving at a door just as a man wearing a suit opened it. I could see the gun in his hand, but the camera wearer already had a rifle up and quickly shot him and the other people who were bunched up behind.

  There was lots of hurried motion, then two men came into frame, supporting the corpse of the man who’d opened the door. The camera moved behind them, then an arm raised the dead man’s hand and pressed a pistol into it, holding it aimed at the open doorway. A few seconds later, a fat man wearing camouflage clothing appeared in the hall, his eyes opening wide before he was shot three times, the bullets coming from the gun in the corpse’s hand.

  Then the camera ran to the fat man and rifles were swapped out. Again, dead hands were wrapped around the weapon and several bursts of fire were sent into the room. For a very short time, the camera panned around the scene as the wearer surveyed the carnage, then he was running again, several other hooded men dashing out the exterior door ahead of him. When he stepped outside, the view swiveled and clearly captured his hand drawing a symbol on the door in red spray paint before he ran to a white van with an open side door and jumped inside.

  I looked up at BK.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked.

  “FBI office in Casper, Wyoming,” he said. “Recognized the symbol he left on the front door.”

  “Why?” Ashley asked, drawing our attention. “Why record this and keep it?”

  “Insurance,” BK said, the man on the floor barking a short laugh. “Or leverage over the people that paid him to do it. This was supposed to have been some wacked out, lone wolf, militia type. Remember?”

  “The fat guy he shot?” Tanya asked.

  BK nodded.

  “Those agents would have chewed that guy up. But they didn’t stand a chance against a team of trained soldiers.” He turned to the prisoner. “Just like in the sandbox, huh? Bre
ach the door, kill everything that’s moving and if you make a mistake, well… there’s always ways to be sure the fuckin’ lawyers don’t come after you.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got some experience,” the man said.

  BK shook his head and stared down at him.

  “What’s your name?”

  The man stared back with his one good eye, then heaved a sigh.

  “What’s it matter now?” he said to himself. “Sam.”

  “Sam what?”

  After it was obvious the man didn’t want to answer, Trippy stepped up and drew his heavy booted foot back to deliver another blow.

  “Glass! Sam Glass,” the man shouted quickly as he tried to squirm away.

  “Was that you on the video?”

  Sam nodded.

  “Set it up really well,” BK said. “Wearing the body cam was smart. So, who you workin’ for?”

  “They’ll kill my family,” Sam said.

  “Ya think I won’t?” Trippy asked, leaning forward and grinning down at him. “See them two fellars over there? They was my family and you kilt ‘em. See them two kids standin’ there? You kilt their daddies. Think any of us give a shit ‘bout your kin? Probably worthless as you. I’d be doin’ the world a favor.”

  Sam stared at Trippy’s still grinning face, then looked to BK with fear in his eye.

  “Two choices,” he said, shrugging as if he didn’t care which one Sam chose. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll let you call your family so they can go into hiding. Or, stay quiet and I’ll find out where they are and he’ll pay ‘em a visit, late some night.”

  He gestured at Trippy as he finished speaking. Sam shot a glance over his shoulder, then looked back at BK. Watched him closely, trying to determine if the threat was sincere.

  “What happens to me if I tell you?” Sam asked.

  “Not up to me,” BK said.

  Sam stared for another long stretch, swallowed audibly a couple of times then nodded.

  “Okay. I don’t know much. My controller is high up in the FBI, but I don’t know his name.”

  “The FBI? You’re saying someone inside the FBI sent you to kill those ranchers and the FBI agents in Wyoming?” Ashley blurted incredulously.

  “Exactly what I’m saying,” Sam said. “These two kids, too.”

  BK glanced over, glad to note that Ashley was recording the confession with the tablet.

  “What office does he work out of?” BK asked.

  “Don’t know. Always met him in the field.”

  “What does he look like? Can you describe him?” Ashley asked.

  “Tall, thin black guy,” Sam said. “Maybe fifty. Stupid little mustache like he’s seen too many old movies.”

  “Is he the one that ordered you to kill the ranchers and the BLM agents in Idaho?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the FBI agents in Casper?”

  “Yes,” Sam said, sounding slightly irritated. “I already told you. He was my controller. He’s the only one I ever talked to and all my orders came from him.”

  “Who pays you?” BK asked.

  “No idea. Money just shows up once the job’s done.”

  “Shows up? Like in a suitcase?”

  “Bank account. Me and each of my men have one in an offshore bank. That’s how we get paid.”

  “Where? What bank?”

  Sam shook his head.

  “You’re not getting the money,” he said. “You can kill me, but the money’s for my wife and kids.”

  “Don’t want your money,” BK said. “Need to be able to trace it back to the source.”

  “No,” Sam said, resignation in his voice. “I’ll tell you what I know, but you’re not going near the bank.”

  BK sighed.

  “You really wanna talk to me,” he said. “If you don’t, I’m gonna have to take you back to where there’s some specialists waiting. You know the kind I mean, right? I’m guessing if they could get Islamic zealots to turn on their own, they can have you singing inside an hour. So, what’s it gonna be? Trust that I don’t want your blood money, or ride the truth train?”

  Sam stared at him, the determination on his battered face quickly morphing to concern. But he remained defiant, shaking his head and not speaking.

  “Then we’re done here,” BK said, turning away from Sam. “Trippy, make sure he’s ready to move. On a very short leash.”

  Chapter 37

  It was cold when we headed out, but better than the night had been. Trippy took the lead, or point as he called it. A man they called Cup, who was a sniper and had apparently spent the night in the woods keeping watch over us, scooped one of the dead bodies onto his shoulder. BK had lifted the other, but wasn’t able to move more than a few steps before the pain in his leg forced him to a stop.

  “I’ll take him,” I’d said, understanding they weren’t going to leave their teammates behind.

  Besides, it was going to be a grueling downhill walk for BK with his injury, even without the weight of a full-grown man on his back. He’d stared at me for a moment before nodding.

  Trippy had returned my weapons as we prepared to leave the cabin and I handed the rifle to Tanya. She handled it with what seemed like familiarity as BK helped me settle the corpse across my shoulders. Body in place, he looped a strap across my back to help control the weight.

  The prisoner’s hands were still tied behind his back and there was now a long rope attached to the bonds which BK held in one large hand. Ashley stayed close to him, his heavy pack cinched down tightly onto her much smaller frame. With Tanya behind me, we made the short climb to reach the saddle, then started the long, downward trek.

  “Were you serious? About the interrogators?” Ashley asked BK.

  I could clearly hear their voices in the cold, mountain air.

  “Yes.”

  “What will they do to him?”

  “With what he’s done, does it matter?”

  “It matters,” Ashley said, voice firm. “Unless we’re ready to sink to their level, it matters.”

  BK looked at her and I could tell her comment had annoyed him.

  “Look,” he said, then paused and took a breath. “In the history of war, not one of em’s ever been won by the guys with the high moral standards. War is dirty. It’s the most raw, savage side of humans. And if you’re not willing to do what it takes to win, well, then you’d better be prepared to lose.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Ashley said. “I understand the words, but what the hell does that mean? There’s no rules?”

  “You mean rules like you can’t use certain types of ammunition in combat because they’re considered inhumane? Like that?”

  “Well, there’s reasons for that, right?”

  BK snorted and shook his head.

  “Say you’re in a battle for your life. Enemy’s shootin’ at you and you’re shootin’ back. Only one side’s gonna walk away alive. Maybe. But, anyway, does only using a certain kind of ammo make the fight more humane? You’re tryin’ to kill the other guy before he can kill you. That’s the whole point of war. Hurt them bad enough that they give up, and if that don’t work, kill ‘em all. There ain’t nothin’ humane about any of it. Pretty damn human, but humane doesn’t matter.

  “Not any different here. Well, actually it is. At least in war your fightin’ somebody who’s just another soldier. Usually, though there are exceptions. But this fucker and his boys took money to kill their fellow Americans. All those ranchers, the BLM agents and the FBI agents. And that’s just what we know about. So, you tell me. Why should the rules apply to someone who’s no better than a murderer?”

  “Because we have laws,” Ashley said. “Even the worst serial killers and mass murderers have rights. You can’t just dump them into an interrogation chamber!”

  “Suppose one of those serial killers had kidnapped a little girl and wouldn’t tell anyone where she was. She’s gonna die if you can’t find her soon. Whose rights ar
e more important? Who’s worth more? The little girl, who is a completely innocent victim, or the monster that put her in danger? What would you do?”

  They walked in silence and I could see Ashley glance over at him every few seconds as she worked on a response.

  “What could I do?” she finally asked.

  “If that was my little girl, there’s nothing I couldn’t or wouldn’t do,” BK said firmly. “And dickhead here’s no different. You think his was the only team out there doing shit like this? How many FBI offices were attacked the other day? How about all the former special forces that were murdered? Who you think was doing that?”

  “Him?” Ashley asked, not getting the point.

  “He may have done some of it, but it took a lot of personnel and coordination to get as far as they’ve gotten. That means someone at the top with a lot of power and resources. How many thousands of innocent Americans have been killed? The way to stop this is to get to the ones in charge. This guy’s just a thug. Nothing. No more’n me. So, if we gotta get down in the mud with ‘em to find out who’s pulling the strings, I’m okay with that.”

  “Hey,” I called, coming to a stop and wiping sweat out of my eyes.

  BK turned, mumbled something into his radio and jerked on the rope to bring the prisoner to a halt. He could tell from looking at my face that I needed a break and as quickly as he could, hobbled to where I was standing and helped me lower the body to the ground.

  “Thanks,” I said, heaving a sigh of relief.

  “You okay?” he asked, looking closely at me.

  I nodded, gratefully taking the canteen he extended and drinking deeply.

  “Five minutes,” he said, gingerly lowering himself to the ground.

  Ashley rushed to his side and helped support him, then took a seat beside him. I joined them, looking around when Tanya sat next to me.