She saw he was on the edge of a decision, and whispered, “Please.”
Long seconds stretched before he said, “I’m not going to unchain you, if that’s what this is all about.”
She raised one shoulder in a compliant gesture. “I’m not asking you to do that. But, of course, you’ll have to free my ankles so I can open my legs.”
Her own plans amazed her. It was almost like someone else were sitting here facing Troy Masters, and she was somewhere else, watching the performance. But then her acting ability was what had gotten her choice jobs in commercials that other models had failed to win.
Putting on the performance of her life, she brought her hands to the front of her blouse and began to open the buttons one by one, working awkwardly because of the binding and because she kept her gaze fixed on Troy. And maybe slower was better, because she was definitely holding his attention as she revealed more and more skin.
***
“And how do we flush the bastard out?” Max asked.
“What if he thinks there’s an earthquake in the area, and he’s gonna get buried?”
“We can arrange an earthquake?”
“Not a real one. But we have some C4 in the trunk.”
“But that could really collapse the tunnel.”
“I guess we’ll have to place it carefully. Close enough to shake the place but not close enough to do any damage down there. And I’ll bring the portable siren. We can turn it on so he’ll think it’s some kind of warning.”
Max nodded, thinking that he’d make the decision when they got to the cabin. Getting out his cell phone, he called Jack.
“We’re at the woods at the location I told you about.”
“Then I’m about five minutes away.”
“You’ll see a chained access road on the right. Don’t park near it. We’re parked across the highway. You’ll see a gravel road going uphill into the woods. The cabin’s on the other side, not far from the access road. Watch out for security guards. We’re going up, and you can follow.”
Max clicked off, and Shane took a canvas gym bag out of the trunk.
There were also assault rifles in the trunk, and Max eyed them.
“I think Troy’s only carrying a sidearm,” he said. “And an assault rifle is going to be kind of conspicuous if we’re caught here.”
Shane nodded. “Of course, so is the C4, if anyone looks in the bag.”
“We’re just here for an exercise routine,” Max quipped.
“Right.”
They made their way down the hill to the highway, then waited for traffic to pass before crossing.
Instead of taking the access road, they moved through the trees as silently as possible, heading for the cabin, circling around so that they wouldn’t approach from the road.
“He could have booby traps or sensors,” Shane whispered.
Max kept his own voice low. “He could. But that would mean he put them in place earlier.”
“He did a lot of planning for that assault on the farmhouse.”
“But he had the time for it. Let’s hope he’s improvising now.”
They came in toward the back of the cabin, and Max saw a flash of red through the trees. Stopping behind a tree, he peered out and realized he was looking at a red Beemer.
“His car,” Max said. “He drove right up here like he owned the place.”
They cautiously approached the vehicle and looked inside. The odor of chloroform wafted out from a rag lying on the floor of the backseat, and Olivia’s purse was lying beside it.
Max’s heart thumped. Masters had drugged her and driven her here. But was she alive?
Turning from the car, he and Shane crept toward the building.
A few feet away a man in a green uniform was lying on the ground.
Max hurried over and saw that it was the same guard who had stopped him and Olivia a few days earlier. Then, he’d taken them by surprise. This time, it looked like the other way around. And the encounter hadn’t gone so well for the security man.
He was dead, the back of his head blown off by a bullet that had gone through the center of his forehead.
Chapter 28
“Oh shit,” Max muttered. “Poor guy, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Another body,” a voice behind them said.
They both whirled to find Jack, breathing hard after running up the hill. “Lucky it’s not Masters who snuck up on you.”
Max made a sound of agreement. “When you called, were you telling us that Larson is dead?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“And who else?”
“Hamilton.”
“Jesus,” Max responded. “I guess he decided there was a chance we weren’t full of shit after all.”