Home Invasion - J. A. Johnstone [67]
“Guy’s getting out and going in to talk to the park manager.”
“You recognize him?”
“Never saw him before.”
Both agents knew that didn’t mean a thing. The Company had plenty of assets working for it that they had never seen, and freelancers could always be hired for a sensitive job, too.
But at least the man in the RV park office wasn’t a known killer.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.
The problem with a camper trailer like this was that you couldn’t just park it. There were things you had to do in order to set it up properly. Which meant that you couldn’t just hop in the pickup and drive off at a moment’s notice, either. You had to take time to unhook.
“Nobody else has stopped here since we came in yesterday morning,” Parker said. “If the guy’s looking for us, he’s gonna have to check us out.”
The camper had only one door, and it was facing the office. They couldn’t get out, climb in the pickup, and drive away without being seen by anybody who was looking in this direction.
“Anybody still in the SUV?” Ford asked.
“I think so. Hard to tell through that dark glass, but I believe there’s another guy in the front seat.”
“Yeah, they travel in pairs, at least.”
From the stool where he was sitting next to the tiny kitchen counter, Earl asked, “Guys, are … are we gonna be all right?”
“I don’t know,” Ford said. “If you’re going to tell anybody why you ran away from Casa del Diablo, now’s the time, Earl. You may not get another chance.”
It was almost a blind shot, but the sudden flare of surprise in Earl’s eyes told Ford that he had scored. Earl had run away from a place called Casa del Diablo. That was more than they had known for sure a moment earlier.
“The first guy’s coming out of the office,” Parker reported. “He’s shaking hands with the manager. Now he’s getting back in the SUV…. It looks like they’re leaving.”
“Really?” Ford asked, unwilling to believe just yet that their luck had held.
“Yeah, they’re pulling out onto the highway—” Parker’s breath hissed between his teeth. “No, wait a minute. They’re backing up. The tailgate’s starting to come up—”
Ford lunged off the bed, grabbed Earl’s arm, and yanked him off the stool. Earl yelped in pain as Ford said, “Go! Go!”
Parker slapped the door open and the three men leaped out of the camper. Ford just had time to think that if he was wrong, they had not only revealed their presence unnecessarily, but they were going to look mighty silly, too.
But alarm bells were clamoring in his head, and as the SUV’s tailgate lifted even more, he saw that he was right. A man crouched in the back of the SUV, pointing a grenade launcher at them.
The RPG shot out from the weapon, trailing smoke and fire as it rocketed toward the camper.
Ford and Parker launched themselves into dives that carried them away from the camper, and since Ford still had his hand clamped on Earl’s arm, he dragged the little guy with him. They hit the ground next to the pickup just as the grenade struck the camper and exploded. The earth jumped violently beneath them. The blast blew a huge hole in the camper and knocked it over on its side.
Parker came up on one knee, gun in hand, and opened fire on the SUV. It was probably armored and had bulletproof glass in the windows, but with the rear gate open, that gave him an opening. He poured several shots into the back of the SUV while Ford and Earl scrambled to their feet.
Neither agent asked the other if he was hurt. As long as they could move and fight, they would keep going. Ford jerked the pickup’s passenger door open and shoved Earl in. Then, joining Parker in firing at the SUV, he ran around the front of the truck and slid in behind the wheel.
The seat was littered with broken glass. The blast that had wrecked the camper had blown out the pickup’s rear window. The engine was all right, though, and turned over as soon as Ford hit the key.
Parker put a foot on the rear bumper and vaulted into the pickup bed. “Go!” he yelled to Ford, who floored the gas. The pickup leaped ahead.
Another RPG sizzled toward them, but Ford had gotten