Part 10 (1/2)

”No!”

Troy pressed a b.u.t.ton on the remote he held in his left hand, lowering Hamid until his head was into the ice-cold water up to his eyebrows and he began thras.h.i.+ng around to stay clear of it.

As Hamid flailed about, Troy hustled to a cage that was sitting on the table between the whip and the cattle prod, reached inside to one corner, and, despite his intense trepidation, grabbed the five-foot-long snake behind the head before it could strike. Then, as the bright orange serpent wrapped its sinewy body tightly around his forearm, he headed back to where the terrorist hung.

Troy pressed another b.u.t.ton on the remote to lift Hamid. As soon as Hamid was clear of the water's surface, Troy held the reptile out so its head and flickering tongue were inches from the terrorist's face. It was a harmless corn snake, but Hamid had no idea, and he began screaming like a newborn baby. Still, he wouldn't give away his secrets.

Troy lowered Hamid back into the water, this time below his shoulders so he couldn't lift himself up enough to breathe. Troy counted to twenty before he raised Hamid's head out of the water, then pressed the snake's head to the terrorist's mouth. The snake bit down hard on Hamid's upper lip, and the short, squat man screamed even as he coughed, snorted water out of his nose, and fought desperately to breathe.

”I tell you, I tell you!” he shouted desperately. ”I tell you everything.”

Troy pulled the snake from Hamid's lip and lowered the terrorist back into the barrel of water one more time just for good measure. To make certain he spilled everything there was to spill with no further delay.

He nodded to himself as Hamid's mouth broke the surface with another push of the b.u.t.ton. The p.r.i.c.k was already spilling his guts, already in mid-sentence babbling details about the plot and where it would take place.

Oh, yes, Shane Maddux had taught him very well.

SHANNON RACED through the darkness and the field of wispy, knee-high gra.s.s. She had no idea where she was. The ride in the van earlier tonight had seemed to last forever from beneath her blindfold, and the horizon was dark in every direction. The farmhouse was two hundred yards behind her and getting farther away fast-as fast as she could sprint. But she had no idea where she was going. She knew only that she was putting as much distance between herself and the house as fast as she could.

She'd flexed her wrists as tightly as she could earlier, while the man was binding her to the chair with the rope. That had enabled her to free herself when he'd finally left her alone. When she'd relaxed her wrists, there had been a tiny bit of play in the bonds, and that had been enough. She'd quickly freed herself and then found her way out of the dark house through a small bas.e.m.e.nt window at the top of the cement wall.

Dogs began barking wildly back in the direction of the farmhouse as she stopped for an instant and leaned over with her hands on her knees to try and get her breath.

Fear rushed through her body like it never had when she realized that the dogs were coming for her. They were the hunters-and she was their prey.

She headed for the edge of the woods, but the dogs were too fast. She could hear them panting as they closed in, and she screamed an instant before the lead hound sprang into the air and knocked her down into the wispy gra.s.s. She'd been so close.

They wouldn't make the same mistake this time-if they decided to let her live.

CHAPTER 18.

”YOU DID a nice job with John Ward.” Shane Maddux sat on the other side of the small table, in the chair Ward had been sitting in a short time ago. ”He was impressed. I could tell. He'll make sure everyone inside knows that Red Cell Seven is absolutely immune from prosecution.” Maddux pointed at the envelope lying on the tabletop in front of Bill. ”That we still have possession of the last original Order. He'll calm the rumors down.”

Bill had known Maddux for many years, but what Maddux could do with that small physique still impressed Bill. How Maddux was like a ghost sometimes, slipping in and out of the shadows to carry out whatever was required. And he was always successful-except for that day in Los Angeles when he'd attempted to a.s.sa.s.sinate Dorn. As far as Bill knew, it was the only instance in which Maddux had failed to achieve a major objective.

The little man was a legend in the spook world. He might not look like much, but at kill time he was an animal. There was no one more ferocious, Bill was convinced-which made living here with him nerve-racking. Maddux wasn't above committing a sport kill every once in a while. It was the little man's lone indulgence and perversion. Even more unnerving for Bill, they'd had their differences over the years. So Maddux might not consider murdering Bill a sport kill. He might believe it was a line-of-duty thing.

”Ward had better not mention my name, Shane. He'd better not mention that he's seen me. You never know where Dorn's people are.”

”John won't say a word about seeing you,” Maddux replied confidently. ”But he'll tell the others that RC7 is absolutely safe, that there is no threat of congressional inquiries or presidential witch hunts. He'll say he's seen the Order. We're good to go at this point. Confidence within the ranks has been restored. You handled that situation well, Bill, as you always do.”

”Thanks.”

The man had no loyalty to anyone or anything except the United States of America. He'd kill his mother for the country, and the rumor was he had. Of course, the rumor was also that his mother hadn't loved him very much, either. Bill grimaced. With a face as ugly as Maddux's, maybe that was understandable.

”What is it?” Maddux demanded.

Too late Bill realized Maddux had caught him staring. ”Nothing.” Maddux was self-conscious about his looks. ”I was just thinking about my family. I miss them,” he admitted.

”Do you think they really believe you're dead?”

Bill's expression turned grim. ”I don't know. But the people at First Manhattan certainly seem to. I read yesterday that the board and the new CEO had a ceremony to unveil a painting of me, which is to be displayed permanently in the lobby of the Wall Street headquarters. Beneath my name are the years of my life. h.e.l.l, they think I died last year, according to the painting.”

”That's just the new CEO p.i.s.sing on the corporate trees and staking out his territory,” Maddux said confidently. ”It's a good move on his part.”

Only the six highest-ranking leaders of Red Cell Seven, the division leaders, understood what was really going on: that Bill was very much alive and still running RC7 from the shadows.

And as far as Bill could tell, only the two of them knew Maddux's real story. That after the battle on Gannett Peak, Bill and Maddux had decided to keep Maddux completely ”off the grid” as far as anyone knew. It was great cover, allowing Maddux to move through the world even more stealthily, because even spooks who'd believed he was immortal were starting to whisper that the little man might actually be gone.

”Is everything okay with the money?” Maddux asked.

Bill was running RC7 and managing the dollars required to fund the cell's operations, which were substantial now that they had more than two hundred agents inside. So several of the a.s.sociates-the wealthy individuals who secretly funded RC7-also knew Bill was still alive. But Bill had chosen all of the a.s.sociates carefully over the years. And though they weren't actually members of the cell, the three a.s.sociates who knew Bill was actually in hiding were equally as loyal as the initiated agents and would never give away the secret-or anything else about RC7.

”The money situation's fine, Shane,” Bill answered confidently.

He just wished he could tell his family what was going on. But that would put them in grave danger, especially Cheryl. Stewart Baxter would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. Roger Carlson's wife had been found dead in the Potomac River. Bill a.s.sumed Cheryl would suffer the same fate if Baxter thought he could get information about him and Maddux out of her.

”We have several billion dollars in reserve.”

Bill enjoyed watching Maddux's mouth fall slightly open. Maddux tried hard never to seem impressed. He always had, ever since Bill had first met the short man with the narrow shoulders and the spindly legs who walked with a limp but wouldn't tell anyone why. But the comment about ”several billion dollars in reserve” had obviously impressed him. They'd known each other too long for Maddux to be able to completely hide his emotions and therefore his awe at the number Bill had just uttered.

”We have that much?” Maddux asked.

”And there's much more if we need it,” Bill said, ”much more. The a.s.sociates are very loyal to us. They appreciate what we do, and that's putting it mildly.”

”No one can ever trace the money?”

”Never,” Bill answered confidently.

”I'm sorry the board replaced you, Bill. I'm sorry they hung that painting up.”

This cabin, located deep in the forests of western New York near Seneca Lake, was outfitted with all modern conveniences, including Internet service. So they were able to keep current on everything happening in the world. Maddux had read about the ceremony as well.

”It's all right.” It was the first time in nine months Maddux had identified in any way the sacrifice Bill had made by disappearing. ”Thanks, Shane.”

”Have you heard anything about Daniel Gadanz?”

”What do you mean?” Maddux asked. ”What about him?”

”It's been nine months since we almost got him in Florida. And he's got to be pretty d.a.m.n upset about his brother. He's a vindictive b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Shane. It doesn't figure that he hasn't stepped up and carried out some sort of revenge. Nine months ago he had kill squads shooting American civilians in shopping malls, for Christ's sake. It's not as if he won't go to extremes to carry out things.”

Maddux shrugged. ”Maybe he's gone soft. Maybe he's finally satisfied.”

”No chance. Having all that money just makes a man like that even more dangerous.”