"No deal. I want her here immediately, or you don't get that bag. That's not negotiable."

"You aren't calling the shots, pal. We are."

"I'll shoot you dead on the count of zero if you don't yell to or call whoever has Karen and tell them to get her up here right now," Troy threatened, aiming his pistol at the man's chest. "Five, four-"

"I don't think so," Ray cut in, flicking the b.u.t.t of his still-burning cigarette out and to the right. "I think we're in charge, and you're about to find that out."

The moment the cigarette hit the ground, a rifle shot split the night, and the van's pa.s.senger window shattered.

Despite the gag stuffed down his tiny throat, Little Jack began screaming from inside the van.

A thrill coursed through Troy's chest. The man standing before him had been telling the truth about at least one thing. L.J. was only a few feet away.

"HERE I come!" Jack yelled as he jumped the cemetery wall and sprinted past the canvas bag.

"Bring it on, brother," Troy called as he raced at Ray and hurled the kidnapper against the van before the man could turn and run.

Another rifle shot cracked the night and slammed into the side of the van just beside Troy and Ray as they struggled.

"Go to the other side of the van, Jack!" Troy shouted as he grabbed Ray by the shirt collar and pulled him roughly around the back to the driver's side. "Go to the driver's side!"

Jack veered right, dashed past the front of the van, and met Troy on the driver's side just as Troy slammed Ray against the vehicle again. "Who's paying you?" Troy demanded as he shoved the barrel of the pistol into the kidnapper's mouth. "Who is it?"

"Where's Karen?" Jack shouted, hurling open the driver's door and climbing in. Little Jack lay in the middle seat, hog-tied and screaming through the gag. Jack scrambled over the console and scoured the backseat and floor of the vehicle, but didn't find Karen. "She's not in here, Troy." He wanted to comfort L.J., but there wasn't time. As gently as he could, he pulled L.J. to the floor, where he'd be safer from gunfire, then hustled for the front of the vehicle. There hadn't been time to untie the boy, and it was probably better not to, anyway. He might try to run from the van, and then he'd become a potential target for whoever was firing away outside. "I'm coming back out!"

As Jack yelled, Troy withdrew the pistol from Ray's mouth, pressed it to the side of the man's head, and fired into the air as Jack jumped back out of the van.

"Cover us," Troy ordered as Ray began screaming. The shot fired directly beside his head had him screaming for mercy. But his screams were cut short when Troy jammed the barrel of the pistol back into his mouth. "We cut off the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's line of sight by coming to this side of the van," Troy explained, gesturing over his right shoulder, "but it won't buy us much time. Listen for someone running through the woods from the left. Watch for someone coming out of the woods at us and trying to get to the other side of the van. You see anything, you empty that clip at him. You kill him! If it's more than one person, shout."

"Find out about Karen!"

"Cover us!" Troy yelled back, refocusing on Ray. "Who had you take the boy and the woman? Who was it?"

Jack darted to the back of the driver's side, half listening to Troy interrogate behind him, half listening for footsteps in the dark woods in front of him, adrenaline pumping through his system wildly as the chaos continued. "I hear something," Jack called over his shoulder as someone raced across the leaves out in front of him. "He's coming from the left."

"Get back here, Jack," Troy yelled, pulling Ray around to the front of the van. "Get back here. Now!"

Jack obeyed his brother and bolted for the front of the van. Just as he turned the corner, another rifle shot blasted the night. The bullet blew past the van and caromed off the cemetery wall, pinging wickedly as it ricocheted off the stones and up into the air.

"Who was it?" Troy demanded again, this time pressing the barrel directly to Ray's forehead. "I swear I'll kill you if you don't tell me."

"Some Australian guy," Ray babbled breathlessly. "He's holed up in West Virginia, in some town called Harpers Ferry, I think. He's got a lot of bada.s.s people with him. That's what Kyle said."

"Who's Kyle?"

"My partner."

"What's the Australian's angle in all this?"

"I don't know, I don't know. We were just supposed to deliver the boy and the woman. I swear I don't know anymore than-"

"He's moving again!" Jack yelled. Footsteps were crashing through the woods from the left. In a few seconds the person out there was going to have another shot at them.

"What's the big picture?" Troy demanded again, hauling the kidnapper to the pa.s.senger side. "What's the Australian doing?"

"I don't know, I swear."

Another bullet blasted past Jack just as he darted around the front right corner of the van to the pa.s.senger side. "Ask him where Karen is. d.a.m.n it, Troy, come on!"

"What's going on in Harpers Ferry?" Troy hissed, ignoring Jack. "Tell me!"

The next bullet from the woods shattered the driver's side window.

"Jesus Christ," Jack muttered as he ducked instinctively. "We're gonna get killed out here."

Turning the tables on the shooter in the woods suddenly seemed like the best option-the only option. So he sprinted along the pa.s.senger side of the van, away from the cemetery and toward the woods.

Jack broke from behind the van, running as fast as he could, expecting at any moment to take a bullet for the second time today before he reached the tree line, which was thirty yards in front of him. If he could reach the trees, he just might have a chance to take the shooter down from close range.

He dove the last few yards into the woods, tumbled head over heels once, scrambled to his knees, crawled behind the trunk of a large elm, and gazed up the tree line toward the general area where the last bullet had exploded from. The moon had reappeared from behind the clouds, and now he had a decent view of the open ground between the van and the forest. If anyone ran for the van he'd see him.

Above the sounds of Troy yelling at the kidnapper, footsteps crashing across dead leaves reached Jack's ears. They were off to the left, deeper in the woods, slowly receding.

Jack headed deeper into the forest, dodging tree trunks as they loomed in front of him. He made his way along quickly but warily, both hands clasped tightly around the Glock's handle as the gun's barrel led him through the forest. Even as he was whipped in the face by the low branches of smaller trees, he kept track of the other person's progress, intensely focused on all sights and sounds. Praying the entire time that only one other person was out here, because if there was a third enemy in this battle, he could be walking straight into an ambush.

The footsteps stopped suddenly-and an instant later, so did Jack. He stood statue-like among the trees, holding his breath as he strained to pick up any clue, visual or audible. It was so quiet out here-no sounds from the van, either. The other person could be a hundred feet away-or behind the next tree. He had no idea.

Shouts from the direction of the van broke the stillness. He recognized Troy's voice, and then a gunshot exploded from the same direction.

Jack took a quick step that way, but then footsteps began crashing through the forest off to his left again. He turned and followed the footsteps, skirting trees, trying to stay with whoever was running ahead of him, making certain those footsteps ahead of him kept going, making certain he wasn't mistaking his footsteps for the ones he was chasing so he wouldn't run straight into that ambush.

Twenty yards ahead an engine roared to life, and then taillights and headlights flashed on. Jack raced for the lights and the sound of the engine, breaking through a thick line of sticker bushes with a painful shout and then out onto a dirt road. He sprinted for the lights until he was so close to the vehicle that he recognized the silhouette as an Explorer.

The back tires spun wildly in the dirt as the driver jammed the accelerator to the floor, spattering Jack with a shrapnel cloud of mud and pebbles as he closed in on the back b.u.mper. The truck dove into a huge pothole as it fishtailed forward and then hit a rock coming out of the chasm, sending the vehicle flying into the air and crazily to one side.

Someone in the back shrieked as the Explorer dropped back down and careened ahead.

It was Karen. The shriek had been faint, but Jack would have recognized her voice anywhere. It was her-no question.

"Karen, Karen, I'm coming. Hold on, sweetheart!"

He dodged several more potholes and raced up the pa.s.senger side of the truck as the engine revved loudly and the tires spun. He was almost to the back door, his fingers were only inches from the handle, when the driver veered sharply to the right, hitting him and sending him flying into the underbrush paralleling both sides of the dirt road.

By the time Jack had torn himself out of the sticker bushes and staggered back to the road, the Explorer was forty yards down the dirt lane and racing away.

SHANE MADDUX stole along the driveway and through the darkness toward the cabin he and Bill Jensen had been holed up in for the last nine months. He'd parked his jeep back up the gravel lane, about halfway to the main road, because something didn't feel right. And over the years, Maddux had learned to trust his gut unfailingly.

As he neared the log structure, he realized his instinct had been correct-again. A light was on in his bedroom, and though the blind was down, he could clearly make out a figure moving around in there.

He pulled his gun from his belt, moved through the shadows to the back of the cabin, and slid his key soundlessly into the lock.

A few steps inside and the scent of wood smoke he loved about the place rushed to his nostrils. A turn to the left, seven more paces down a narrow hallway, and he reached his closed bedroom door.

Maddux hesitated for a few moments, listening, and then burst into his bedroom. Bill wheeled around, throwing his hands in the air as Maddux aimed the gun straight at him. Bill had been leaning over the bed, studying a notepad that he'd removed from a small, open safe that was on Maddux's bed beside the notepad. Maddux had kept that safe hidden in an alcove of his closet, covered by blankets.

"What are you doing?" Maddux demanded.

Bill nodded solemnly down at the notepad. "This is over the top, Shane, even for you."

"How did you open the safe? Who gave you the combination?"

"No one gave me anything. It wasn't hard to figure out the digits. I entered one-eight-three-seven. That's R-C-7. It opened right up when I did." Bill shook his head as he brought his hands slowly down to his sides. "I never thought you'd be so predictable."

"You just made a very big mistake, Bill. Now I have to kill you. Now I have to-"

The bullet blew through Maddux's chest, tearing apart one lung and part of his heart as the single hollow-point round exploded on impact.

Maddux collapsed to the floor, and Bill was on him in an instant, grabbing the pistol and ripping it from his clenched, white-knuckled fingers. "Get out of here," he muttered over his shoulder.

"But I-"

"Now," Bill yelled angrily.

"How could you do this to me?" Maddux gasped as he gazed up at Bill, who was now kneeling beside him. "After everything we've been through?"

"What are you talking about, Shane? You were about to kill me."

"You were about to weaken a nation."

"You don't know that. All you really know is that I was looking at your plans."

"How can you let the b.a.s.t.a.r.d win?"

"I'm sorry, Shane," Bill murmured. "I'm sorry it had to come to this."

"I can't let you tell anyone," Maddux whispered, his strength ebbing away quickly as the ma.s.sive internal wound bled profusely. "I can't."

"I'm afraid you have no choice."

With his last few heartbeats, Maddux released the four-inch blade that was attached to a leather strap around his wrist and hidden beneath the cuff of his jacket's right sleeve. Then, with his last burst of strength, he drove the point of the knife into Bill.

Bill rose unsteadily with a desperate groan, clasping his neck as blood began pouring from the wound. He wavered for a few moments in the middle of the room, staggered three steps ahead, and then crashed face-first to the floor.

THE KIDNAPPER'S body lay sprawled out before him on the pavement beside the van. He'd been shot neatly once through the forehead.

"You killed him," Jack murmured.

"I did what I had to do." Troy clasped Little Jack tightly in his arms. The boy was still sobbing uncontrollably, and it had been several minutes since Troy had untied him and pulled the gag from his mouth. "Let's get out of here, Jack, before anyone comes. We've gotta get to Harpers Ferry as soon as possible."

Jack was still staring down at the dead man. "Did you ask him about Karen at all?"

"I thought you said Karen was in that Explorer you chased."

"She was, but neither of us knew that when you were jamming your gun in this guy's mouth."

"Jack, I-"

"I want to know if you asked him about my wife before you killed him."

As Troy was about to answer, his phone vibrated. "Hold Little Jack for me."

Jack took his nephew and pressed the boy's tearstained face gently to his chest as Troy read the text. As he gazed at his younger brother, Jack noticed that one shoulder of his brother's shirt was torn badly.

He shook his head as he realized how that had happened. Troy had been standing near the front of the van when the first rifle shot had been fired from the forest, shattering the pa.s.senger window. The bullet must have grazed Troy's shoulder.

"Jesus, Troy," Jack murmured, "you're indestructible."

AS THE Gulfstream G650 rose smoothly from the runway and banked east toward the Atlantic Ocean and the Republic of the Congo, which was more than five thousand miles away, Karen's eyes fluttered shut as she lay across two wide leather seats, still bound and gagged. They'd just administered another sedative, but it hadn't been necessary. She was exhausted and would have slept all the way across the Atlantic even without the syringe full of amber-hued liquid they'd just pumped into her left arm.

She was exhausted, but worse, she was defeated. She'd thought for a few moments, as the vehicle had bounced around violently, that Jack was about to rescue her. She'd heard him yell from outside the truck; she couldn't miss that voice anywhere.

But then the ride had smoothed out and the awful man in front had laughed loudly at her, a.s.suring her that her fate had been sealed and that he was about to "sell her to the highest bidder." He'd shouted to her triumphantly from the front that he'd just checked his account and now he was a rich man. But she had no idea what he meant-other than someone was paying him a lot of money to take her off his hands.

She'd fought and struggled through all of those terrible rehab sessions for the last nine months, never missing a single one, never giving up hope of walking and speaking normally again. And Jack had never once wavered in his love or support for her in any way.

Now all that effort seemed wasted. Jack was gone, and she didn't want to live without him.

For the first time in her life, she wanted to die.

CHAPTER 35.

AT FIVE o'clock this morning, three hours ago, Sterling had contacted Daniel Gadanz and, in code, informed the drug lord that Operation Anarchy had been officially aborted.

The warning signs against executing the mission had simply become too overwhelming, and for Sterling, the huge risks no longer justified the ma.s.sive reward. No longer could the prospect of collecting three hundred million dollars persuade him to move forward with his team of a.s.sa.s.sins. No longer did all that money make him physically salivate the way it had just a few hours before.

After the aggravating series of calls with Kyle, Sterling had attempted to contact Wayne Griffin several times with no success-which had made him suspicious. Jennie wasn't picking up, either, and then Kyle had delivered only Karen Jensen to the New Jersey tarmac and the waiting G650 that Gadanz had sent for the flight to the Congo. At that point Sterling's antennae had gone way up.

Sterling wired Kyle the million dollars he'd demanded at the last minute, but Kyle had not been forthcoming with the men at the jet about what had happened to Troy Jensen's one-year-old son. Sterling could only guess that somehow Troy had caught up, or nearly caught up, to Kyle, and intercepted half of what was supposed to be delivered.

All of which raised the specter that Red Cell Seven had become involved. And that was the straw that had broken the camel's back. Sterling was now convinced of Red Cell Seven's existence-and its power. And he wanted no part of it-even for three hundred million dollars.

Within thirty seconds of sending the ciphered abort message, Gadanz had responded, requesting a face-to-face meeting in the same code. It turned out Gadanz was visiting his new south Florida compound-probably not coincidentally, Sterling realized-and was willing to meet anywhere Sterling wanted to, as soon as possible.