Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mitch had no doubt who these people were. He’d walked into a trap. “Good to see you, Coercion Ten. Missed you out on the boat.”

“My…my dad is actually part of them.” She looked terrified, like a child lost in a store.

That knowledge hit like a hollow-point bullet. Expanding and filtering everything with a new perspective.

With a Glock aimed straight at Mitch, a man with a heavy touch of gray moved toward them from the media room hallway. Squared-off shoulders, bushy, straight-slashed eyebrows. What appeared to be permanent flared nostrils completed his sneer. He had a swagger of power, the kind used when the person had control of the situation. There was no reason to think the man wouldn’t pull the trigger if provoked.

“Well, well, well. Agent Mitch Granger. We finally meet. I’m Russ Walkert.”

Mitch didn’t react. He already knew what Liz’s dad looked like from the photos he’d studied at the beginning of this case. The swagger, however, was one you had to see in person to feel the effect.

“Slugger, get the package.” Russ motioned the bald-headed thug to the media room. “Now, where were we? Oh…yes…I wanted to let you know exactly who I am. You may have heard CT refer to me as the Trickster.”

Mitch had heard of the Trickster. So had everyone in OPAQUE. The Trickster was rumored to work both sides of everything. One more than the other. Somebody willing to sell any information if the price was right. Rumor had it, he’d quickly risen in CT stature in the past few years.

Slugger disappeared into the media room, where grunts of an altercation sounded. A moment later, the thug shoved Drake into the living room and thrust him into a corner. Physically, Drake looked like he’d already been beaten down, maybe drugged. But his eyes and the set of his bloodied jaw said, even with his hands cuffed in front of him, he was still defiant as hell. He’d need to be, to get out of this alive.

“Sorry,” Drake said. “When I let Russ talk to Liz on my phone, his CT thugs grabbed me. I’d already programmed the general location into my directions. They zeroed in on this stretch of beach, and the rest was just a game of wait and see.”

With Drake’s phone capability and code list, Russ had probably been the one sending messages out under Mitch’s name. That would explain Joey and the others getting instructions.

A weak moan caught everyone’s attention, and Slugger walked to the bookcase and dragged another cuffed man, who’d been concealed behind a chair, out in the open. Kicked his leg then pulled him into a sitting position and shoved him against the wall across from Drake. Mitch recognized the perimeter man Stealth had left to guard the house. He appeared to have been knocked upside the head, what with the dried blood caked in his hair.

“Now, I’d like everyone’s attention,” Russ said. “First, I’d like to thank Agent Granger for taking such good care of Elizabeth. Evidently, you two have become quite fond of each other.” He waved his pistol between the two of them. “CT couldn’t have asked for a better leverage situation.”

Mitch spit in her father’s direction, hoping for any movement that would give him an advantage. “Shut up, scumbag. CT’s got nothing but dried-up snitches on their payroll. Weasels who lock their daughter in a windowless room so they can play the big-time informant. Did that make you feel like a big man? You make me sick to my stomach.”

“Touchy bastard, aren’t you?” Russ brushed his thumb in circles on the grip of the gun. “That’s okay. Now I don’t feel so bad about what’s in store for you.”

Keeping his gun trained on Mitch, Russ motioned the thug holding the knife to Mitch’s throat to cover Drake and the perimeter man in the living room. In turn, Slugger moved next to Russ in the kitchen area.

“You know what, Agent Granger? A man like you should have a chance to save himself. How would you like a one-on-one fight with one of my CT guys?” Russ smirked as he grabbed Liz’s arm and pulled her farther back into the kitchen. “Go ahead, choose one.”

Mitch calculated Slugger to be a street fighter. The long-necked knife guy in the living room moved more like a martial art expert. Either way, there’d still be one man to fight and—

“Oh, don’t forget my third CT agent. I believe you already know each other.” Russ pointed up to the second-floor balcony. “Ain’t that right, Keith?”

Mitch glanced up, forcing his brain to comprehend what he was seeing. “Keith? Keith Ayres?”

“You always were a quick study.” Keith grinned like the devil in some Halloween mask.

“You? You’re the CT rat in OPAQUE?”

“The one and only. And as you can see—I’m not dead.”

“Not yet.” Mitch processed all the things during the past week that had pointed to OPAQUE incompetence. Now it all made sense. Things had been engineered by the rat in the system. Keith had been part of OPAQUE for the past five years. No telling what else he’d affected.

“Believe me, I’ve enjoyed every moment.” Keith flipped the tech-band back and forth with his fingers. “By the way, thanks for the loan of the tracking tech-band. Came in handy the past few days.”

“You fucking son of a bitch.” Mitch charged up the steps but stopped halfway to the top. As every good SEAL could tell you— Don’t run to your death.

“Come on, Mitch. Don’t stop now,” Keith goaded. “Show me some of those moves you’re so famous for.”

“Why? Why CT?” Mitch planned each action he needed to make. This was about staying alive to save the others. He needed to keep his mind clear. Bait the target. Draw him in.

“I got tired of being known as the sonar techie. The radar geek,” Keith said. “I fought just as well as the rest of you, but I never got the same respect as you or the others on the Shades team.”

“We were showing you respect, man. None of us could come close to reading the tech stuff like you.” With care, Mitch used his negotiating skills. Say whatever it took to throw the target off-balance. “It’s not too late. You can come back to OPAQUE. We can say you were working both sides.”

Keith blinked. Paused.

Mitch sucked in a deep breath as he started a slow, methodical climb up the remaining steps. Hooyah… One step at a time. Measured and calculated. Hooyah… Looking for makeshift weapons on the landing. Hooyah… Counting the steps to the knife taped to the back of the picture above the lamp table. Hooyah… Remembering every dirty fight move he’d ever seen Keith use.

“Are you guys gonna stand there and yap all day?” Russ yelled from the kitchen below. “You got five seconds or I shoot one of you.”

Keith continued to lean on the balcony rail, clicking the tech-band back and forth in his hand. “Just to make this fair, I’ve cleared all your guns and knives and creative ammo from up here. Even locked all the doors. What you see is what you get.” Keith flung the tech-band in Mitch’s face, hitting him above the eye.

“You fucking prima donna. Is that all you’ve got?” Mitch brushed the back of his hand across the trickle of blood. “Don’t you know? Rats like you never make it out alive.” Mitch stepped onto the landing. “Hooyahhhhhh!”

Charging toward Keith, he body-slammed him up against the wall. Turned him around and raced them both toward the railing. Their hand-to-hand, fist-to-fist struggle intensified as Mitch grabbed him by the collar and took them both over the rail. Landing on the floor below, he smashed his fist into Keith then jumped to his feet.

Mitch yanked the silverware drawer out of the cabinet as Russ jerked Liz in front of himself, using her as a shield. Forks and spoons and knives flew across the room. She screamed and flung her free arm in front of her face.

Intensifying his grip on the drawer handle, Mitch stepped and spun in a strong, tight circle. The next second, he slammed Keith with the bottom of the drawer. Circled again and smashed the drawer flat against the man’s face, breaking his nose. Keith dropped to the floor, blood gushing down his face. Mitch braced his foot against Keith’s groin, grabbed his leg, and karate chopped the knee. It popped. Twisting the ankle, it popped next. And when Mitch dropped the disfigured leg back to the floor, he heel stomped the shin. Keith screamed as one of the broken bones slashed through the skin on the front of his shin. He wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

The man was incapacitated enough to keep him down, yet alive for OPAQUE to interrogate. Enough to find out exactly what he’d done in the past five years. Enough to—

Slugger stepped across and up-kicked Mitch’s chin.

…

Liz screamed as Mitch staggered to stay on his feet. He charged headfirst into Slugger, but the thug reacted with a downward fist chop on Mitch’s back, and he crumpled to his knees gasping for breath. At least Slugger hadn’t landed the blow on his neck.

“That’s enough for now.” Russ stepped over Keith’s crumpled body and moved farther into the room. “I must say, it’ll be hard to outdo Agent Granger and Agent Ayers’s opening act. But I believe the main presentation will stand as the crowd-pleaser.”

As Mitch regained his footing, Liz walked in his direction, reaching out to help him. He shoved her hand away, but she grabbed his hand and slipped him a piece of the sharp beer bottle glass. Most of the shards she’d picked up from the floor had been from the oven door, but she still had a few more of the sharp pieces in her pocket. At least now he had a weapon.

He nodded and slid the jagged shard into the tiny pouch on his Neoprene swim shorts.

“Has everyone got a good view?” Russ moved to the living room. Along the way, he pushed the remote to open the blinds. Open the windows. “I especially want Drake and Agent Granger to have prime seats. In fact, Elizabeth, come over here. I’d hate for any of you to miss this after all my planning.”

She strained to stay out of her father’s reach yet keep all of him in her sight.

“Come here, Elizabeth. Stand next to me,” Russ said, reaching in his pocket and pulling out what looked like a credit card sized two-button palmtop computer.

What was that? Whatever it was couldn’t be good. But the scariest part was that her father seemed to be enjoying his control of the situation. She glanced at Drake and then the other wounded man slouched against the opposite wall. Neither of them appeared to have a clue as to what was happening, either.

Russ glared at her. “I said come here. Now!”

She moved closer. Now that the windows were open to the deck, she hoped someone outside would see what was happening inside the house.

“Showtime in…” Russ pushed a button on the two-button computer then flashed it around for everyone to see a digital number counting down from twenty seconds. A maniacal expression took over his face as he pointed outside.

She stared into the distance. Looked back at the countdown. There was nothing outside except…the beach…the Gulf…the waves…the boat—