Countdown - Iris Johansen [129]
“They’d have better luck if you’d wait and lead them to Reilly.”
He shook his head. “I’ve given you all I can.” He lifted the lid of the box. “Come here.”
She followed him across the room and looked down into the box. “Jesus, you have enough weapons here to start a war.” The box was filled with automatic rifles, hand grenades, knives, pistols . . .
“Reilly always liked me to be prepared. He has weapon stashes all over the state. This one was closest to his headquarters. For every mission he’d send me here to choose the weapon of choice. I wasn’t sure the cache would still be here.” He smiled mirthlessly. “But why get rid of it when he was sure I’d never be able to function as a thinking human being again? He probably used it to train his current subject.” He took a pistol, rifle, wire, dynamite, and plastic explosives from the box. “You know how to use a gun?” When she nodded, he gave her the pistol and reached into the box for another for himself. “Keep it with you. Don’t lay it down for a minute.”
“Don’t worry.”
He handed back her cell phone. “You’re on your own.”
“And so are you. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“Yes, it does. Because I choose it. And, God, it’s good to be able to have the will to choose my own path.” He moved toward the door. “Stay here and be quiet and you’ll be safe.” The door opened and let in a blast of cold, snow-wet wind. The next moment he was gone.
Gone after Reilly. Taking his head start and running with it. God help him.
She flipped open her phone and dialed Trevor’s number.
Stay where you are,” Trevor said. “We’re in Boise. We’ll get to you as soon as possible.”
“I’m not going anywhere on my own. I’d be wandering around in the snow and probably set off one of Reilly’s booby traps or video cameras. Jock’s in enough danger without me putting that bastard on the alert.” She looked out at the falling snow. It seemed to be getting heavier. “Can’t you call Venable and get him to have the CIA or Homeland Security set up a ring around this entire area?”
“Not until I know you’re safe.”
“I’m safe now.”
“The hell you are. You’re sitting on Reilly’s doorstep. Besides, they wouldn’t be able set up an operation that big in the blink of an eye. Particularly with all the conflict going on between the agencies. They might slip and tip off Reilly and cause him to call that Montana training camp Jock told you about. And if Reilly has as many bolt-holes as Jock claims, he could slip away from them.” She heard him say something away from the receiver. “MacDuff is looking at the map. It looks like you may be an hour by road. Fifteen minutes by air. We’re on our way. MacDuff says he’ll set up a helicopter if this damn weather permits.” She heard more conversation in the background. “Mario is renting an SUV with snow tires and heading out right away. One way or another, we’ll get to you.” He hung up.
She felt a little warmer, comforted, as she pressed the disconnect. She wasn’t really alone. She could dial Trevor and hear his voice.
Who was she kidding? She’d never been more alone in her life than she was in this rickety shack only miles from Reilly’s lair.
Okay, but she had a weapon. Her hand grasped the hilt of the .357 Magnum more tightly.
She propped a chair beneath the knob of the front door, curled up in the corner near the heater, and wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm. That propane heater might save her from freezing, but it was pitifully inadequate for warmth.
Come on, Trevor. Let’s get this bastard.
There was someone near.
Jock stopped, still, listening.
He’d only gone a few hundred yards from the shack when he’d sensed . . . something.
Now he could hear it too. The crunch of snow beneath a foot.
Where?
From the road, from where he’d come.
Who? The sentries were always stationed around the house, not this far away. But Reilly might feel more cautious now that he was involved with Grozak.
But if this was a sentry, he shouldn’t be able to hear