Wired - Douglas E. Richards [65]
Desh could tell that Smith’s mind was racing, weighing the possibilities.
“You have ten seconds,” said Desh forcefully. “Nine. Eight. Seven. Six—”
“Do what he says!” ordered Smith anxiously. “Now!”
His men were incredulous, but did as ordered: they dropped their weapons and fell to the ground.
Smith remained standing.
“You too, Smith,” demanded Desh. “On the ground. You and I need to have a nice long chat.”
Smith shook his head. “I’m really not feeling all that chatty,” he said.
And then, before Desh could react, Smith pointed his tranquilizer gun at his own leg and pulled the trigger.
PART FOUR
Reunion
25
Kira Miller took the lead as they hiked through the woods. Desh was close behind, his .45 trained on her back, while Connelly and Griffin brought up the rear; all four staying alert for possible ambushes. Their destination was Kira’s SUV, rented under an assumed name, which was parked at a campground a half-mile distant and which could not be immediately traced. They were in an untouched section of the woods, blazing their own trail, and their progress was slower than Desh would have liked. Kira had used a small GPS device to find the clearing, and she consulted it periodically to be sure they were taking the most direct line to her vehicle possible.
Desh fumed silently. How had he let Smith slip through his fingers! Smith had known they couldn’t wait until he regained consciousness to interrogate him, and dragging his unconscious body along as they made their escape would be equally foolhardy. As expected, the man had carried no identification. Shit, thought Desh for the third time. He had been so close to finally learning what was going on and who was pulling Smith’s strings. It was maddening!
Desh had tranquilized the remaining commandoes to ensure they couldn’t sound an alarm. After he had cut Griffin and Connelly free, he had taken the standard, military first-aid kit from the helicopter and had cleaned and dressed the colonel’s wound, giving him a potent pain killer as well. Before they had taken off into the woods, Desh also hurriedly dressed the wound of the now-unconscious soldier Connelly had shot.
All in all, Connelly had been lucky, but he had still lost a considerable amount of blood and the risk of infection was significant. He needed to get to a doctor soon.
Kira stopped walking and gestured toward Desh’s gun. “Do you really need to point that at me?” she whispered, taking care that her voice wouldn’t carry and advertise their presence.
It was a good question, thought Desh. Did he? She had warned him about Smith; warned him that Connelly was in danger. And she had been right. She had also just bailed them out of a big mess.
But what if this had been nothing but a set-up? For all Desh knew she and Smith were working together. Still, to what end? If she wanted Desh dead she could have accomplished this at the motel. If she was allied with Smith to acquire Griffin and Connelly along with him, they were seconds away from this as well. What’s more, she had voluntarily put herself under Desh’s control.
Desh wasn’t about to holster his gun until they were in more secure territory, but he joined Kira at the front of the procession and no longer pointed it in her direction.
“Thanks,” she whispered earnestly.
“So you bugged the sweatshirt, too, didn’t you?” asked Desh in hushed tones as they began to move again, barely managing to keep any trace of admiration from his voice.
Kira nodded guiltily.
“What are you doing here?”
“I knew they’d follow the colonel to your meeting place and try to kill him. I decided I couldn’t let that happen.”
Desh studied her carefully but detected no sign of deceit. “Do you really have a suicide tooth?” he whispered.
A broad smile came over her face. “No,” she admitted. “It was all I could think of at the time.” She raised her eyebrows. “Actually, I figured my bluster wouldn’t keep Smith from deciding I was bluffing for very long. I was counting on you to get the hint