Читать книгу The Safest Lies - Debra Webb - Страница 12

Dusk was settling way too fast. Sadie had knocked on doors in the vicinity of the church—not that there were that many. She’d asked straightforward questions, calling the group she sought by name. Then she’d driven to the now-defunct church of the Salvation Survivalists and she’d started poking around.

Breaking in had been a breeze. The ATF and the FBI had gone through the building numerous times and though every entrance had been secured, the lock on the back door was damaged. All of ten seconds were required to rip the crime scene seal away and finagle the thing open. As easy as taking candy from a baby.

It was possible a couple of days might be required to garner the attention she sought. Not good for her target. Levi Winters might not have a couple of days. On the other hand, it was possible he wasn’t a hostage at all and was happily ensconced among friends deep within this suspicious group. His sister, Cecelia, was convinced he was a hostage, but sisters didn’t always know the whole story.

Sadie’s sister certainly did not.

She and her sister had never been friends. Maybe it was the ten years that separated them in age or the fact that her sister had chosen a path Sadie despised. Pricilla Buchanan was a criminal defense attorney. Her entire existence was focused on undoing what law enforcement personnel like Sadie risked their lives to do. Of course their mother insisted they were both angels, but she was wrong. Their mother wanted to see good in everyone. Pricilla was not good. She was self-centered, self-serving and indifferent when it came to justice.

Sadie kicked aside thoughts of her older sister as she strolled the halls of the extremist church whose followers still refused to speak ill of their most recent infamous leader. The man, Cecelia Winters’s older brother as it turned out, had been hiding smuggled guns. He’d sworn he had no idea how the weapons had ended up in the secret underground hiding place beneath the church. He’d gone so far as to attempt to claim the weapons had been there since before his father died almost nine years ago. Talk about a scumbag. Then again, apparently his father had been an even bigger lowlife.

Ross and the others suspected Marcus Winters had been holding the stockpile of weapons for the Resurrection. Despite the seriousness of the charges he faced, Winters refused to spill his guts. Whomever Marcus Winters was protecting he was too damned afraid to make a deal, even for the promise of a new life in witness protection.

The moment he’d been arrested he had shut down like a dying cell phone battery and hadn’t spoken since.

Anything that might provide clues about a connection between the church and the gunrunning extremist prepper group was long gone. The tunnel between the church and the Winters home was set for demolition. Cecelia mentioned that she intended to sell the place the moment it was released from evidence. She wanted to wash her hands of that ugly past as soon as possible and who could blame her? Based on what Ross had told Sadie, the woman had already paid a high price for standing up against her family.

Sadie followed the directions she’d been given to find the tunnel area. Mostly she was killing time. The longer she hung out in the area the more likely she was to run into what she was looking for. At least that was the hope. If she were really lucky things would happen as quickly as she hoped.

Ross had given her a piece of information to use as leverage once she had infiltrated the group. His contact from the ATF insisted this would be immensely useful. She’d gone into missions with less, but this felt a little slim by any measure.

The entrance to the tunnel was barricaded. Sadie turned and headed back in the direction she’d come. She took the stairs two at a time and returned to the church’s main sanctuary.

There was nothing else to be done here. She turned for the front entrance and stalled. A man sat on the very back pew. His hair was gray—not the white gray, the silver gray. It poked from beneath a fedora. A full beard did a hell of a job of camouflaging his face. He wore overalls and a button-down, long-sleeved shirt, no matter that it was as hot as hell outside. It was difficult to assess if he was armed. Her view of him from the chest down was blocked by the back of the pew in front of him. From a merely visual perspective he appeared reasonably harmless.

Sadie, however, was too smart to assume any such thing based on appearances.

“You must be that missing fed.”

Though he said this in a low, rusty-with-age voice, it seemed to echo in the hollow sanctuary. Not particularly threatening and yet with simmering power.

“That’s me. Sadie Buchanan.”

“I hear you and a fed friend of yours have been looking for me.”

Obviously, he meant Deacon Ross. “I don’t know about anyone else and I definitely don’t have any friends around here, but I’ve been looking for someone. That’s a fact. Can’t say whether that someone is you.”

She dared to walk toward him, one step at a time down that long center aisle. The rubber soles of her hiking boots were quiet on the wood floor.

“What is it you think you’re looking for, Ms. Buchanan? Or should I call you Agent Buchanan?”

Sadie sat down at the pew in front of him, turned in the hard seat to face him. “Sadie is fine. After yesterday, I doubt that anyone considers me an agent anymore—except maybe for the purposes of prosecution.”

The story that she was an agent on the run was the best cover she could come up with given the circumstances and the shortness of time.

“Nine years. Stellar record. Up for promotion,” he said, his gaze steady on hers, “the way I hear it. That’s a lot to give up for whatever it is that brought you here, Sadie.”

So the man had friends in the right places. Only a handful of people in this town knew her name and none beyond the four with whom she had met in the sheriff’s conference room were aware of her background. She shrugged. “I should have gotten that promotion two years ago. And you’re right, nine years is a long time to watch men like my SAIC write his own definition of justice. Besides, my daddy was a firm believer in a man—or woman—having the right to live his life the way he wanted and to bear arms. I suppose I have him to thank for my hardheadedness.”

The man’s gaze hardened. “As interesting as this conversation might prove to be, I don’t like wasting my time, Sadie. Why don’t you tell me what it is you think I need to hear?”

“I appreciate that you looked me up, Mister...?”

“Prentiss,” he said, “Rayford Prentiss.”

“Mr. Prentiss,” she acknowledged. “The trouble is—and I mean no offense to you—I really need to speak with the man in charge. It’s urgent. We don’t have a lot of time.”

He held her gaze for a long moment of thickening silence. “You don’t look like the sort with a death wish,” he finally said.

Sadie smiled. “Not if I can help it. What I have, Mr. Prentiss, is some information about a joint task force mission that will prove more than a little devastating to the Resurrection. If you and your friends take me in, I’ll give you the heads-up you need to survive the storm that’s coming—assuming you know what I’m talking about and have the authority to take me where I need to go.”

A crooked smile lifted one corner of his bearded mouth. “First, I know precisely what you mean and I have all the authority I need. The real question is, why on God’s green earth would I believe that foolish story?”

“Well, my motive is somewhat personal, Mr. Prentiss. I will tell you that I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble and I don’t see any ready way out, so this looks like as good an option as any other. My daddy always said planning for the future was smart business. I need to disappear for a little while, Mr. Prentiss. I think you and your friends can make that happen. You do me a favor and I’ll do one for you.”

Prentiss chuckled. “I really am flummoxed, Sadie. You appear quite sincere and yet I’m not certain I believe you. Be that as it may, we’ll play your little game. After all, it took considerable courage to start this thing.” His gaze settled heavily on her and this time there was no mistaking the promise there. “Rest assured, whatever this is, if you’re lying to me, you will not like how this ends.”

“Great.” Sadie pushed a smile into place and sat up straight. “Then we have a deal.”

Another of those long moments of silence elapsed with him staring at her. “It appears we do.”

He raised a hand and people seemed to come out of the woodwork. Four men, all armed. “My friends will see to your transportation. Goodbye, Sadie.”

When he stood and walked away, she couldn’t help wondering if this mission would end right here, right now. These guys could kill her and no one would ever know exactly what happened, much less who did the deed.

Wasn’t that the way it always was?

The door closed behind Prentiss and she stood, glanced from fierce face to fierce face. “So, who’s driving?”

“Take off your clothes,” the one nearest her said.

She laughed. “I never take off my clothes on the first date.”

He aimed his weapon at her. “Take them off now.”

One of his pals stepped forward and tossed a bag on the floor at the end of her pew.

“There are clothes in the bag,” the one who appeared to be in charge and who held his aim steady on her announced.

“Well, if you insist.”

Taking her time she toed off her boots, peeled off her socks, then unbuttoned her shirt. When the shirt, the boots and socks were in a neat pile next to the provided bag, she shucked her jeans and added them to the pile next.

When she reached for the bag, the man with the gun at the ready protested, “Everything comes off.”

She figured that would be his next order. Sadie reached behind her and unhooked her bra. She allowed it to fall forward and drop to the pile. Then she swooped off her panties and added them unceremoniously to the rest.

The man nodded and she reached for the bag. Inside was a pair of gray sweatpants and a white tee. No underwear. No socks. Thankfully there was a pair of plastic flip-flops. The cheap kind found in bins near the checkout counter at discount stores. She donned the provided outfit and slipped her feet into the flip-flops.

The man who’d brought the bag grabbed her things and put them into the empty bag. She hated that her cell phone was in that bag. Besides a gun, it was the asset she depended upon most.

Oh well.

“Let’s go.” The man with a bead on her motioned with the barrel of his weapon toward the back of the church.

“What about my car?” she asked as they marched toward the rear exit.

“A friend will pick it up and dismantle it for parts.”

She stalled and glared at the man. Was he out of his mind? “Wait just a minute. That car cost—”

“You won’t need it where you’re going.”

* * *

THE DRIVE TO their destination took half an hour, give or take a minute.

Sadie had counted off the seconds and minutes, in part to distract herself from the sorts of thoughts that wanted to crowd into her brain. But mostly because it was important to maintain a sense of location. Half an hour from the church was a reference anyone coming to her rescue could use to facilitate the task.

Except there was no one coming. This mission was basically off the books. Ross and his friends would get worried when they didn’t hear from her in a couple of days but there wasn’t a whole lot they could do other than beat the bushes and rattle a few cages looking for her. Finding her would be difficult if not impossible. The tracking devices in her cell phone, in the soles of her shoes and in her bra were who knew where. Unless someone had been watching her and followed this caravan, she was probably out of luck as far as backup was concerned.

Frankly, she had been surprised by their vehicles. She’d expected big four-wheel-drive trucks caked with mud and decked out with gun racks. But that wasn’t the case at all. The two vehicles were both new top-of-the-line SUVs. Sure, they were four-wheel drive, but they were sleek and almost elegant looking—unlike the men inside.

The younger of the group had been tasked with her personal security. He’d secured her hands behind her back and dropped a cloth bag over her head. He sat in the back seat with her. Another one drove. The other two men were in the second vehicle, with Prentiss, no doubt. No one in this vehicle had said a word en route. Music had played just loud enough to prevent her from noting another reference—any sounds in the areas they drove through. Animals, trains, construction, whatever.

When the vehicle rolled to a stop and the engine cut off, the music died. The doors opened and low voices rumbled around her. Beyond the voices was quiet. No city sounds. No traffic sounds. Not even any animals.

Fingers wrapped around her upper arm and tugged her from the center section of the back seat. A hand guided her feet so she wouldn’t break her neck climbing out. When she was steady on the ground the sack was dragged from her head.

Her first thought was that she had gone back in time. The towering stone walls made her think of the ones surrounding a castle she’d visited in Edinburgh, Scotland. The walls were massive, at least thirty feet high. There were what appeared to be guard towers built into the wall. A large, square stone structure stood in the center of the expansive grounds that were like a quad on a college campus without all the fancy landscape. Like the primitive keeps she’d seen in her travels, the windows were tiny in proportion. There were other buildings beyond the larger one, but she could only see the rooftops in the distance.

She stared overhead. Frowned. There was no sky.

She scanned what should have been the sky for as far as she could see. Steel and some sort of panels stood high above her. Reminded her of a massive warehouse. But no clouds or sun or anything else that said sky.

Wherever they were, they were not outside. But the SUVs had rolled to a stop right here. She glanced over her shoulder at the one she’d only just emerged from. The ride had seemed to stay on level ground. There had been no downhill or uphill movement. The ride had been smooth but not so smooth that she wouldn’t have noticed a change in elevation. There could have been an elevator somewhere that brought them below ground. But that didn’t seem right, either, since they hadn’t stopped long enough to roll into any sort of elevator until a minute ago, when the engines shut off and they got out.

The man behind her nudged her forward with the muzzle of his weapon. She took in as much of what she could see as possible, committed it to memory as they moved forward. Wherever they were, the place was certainly fortified for battle. If they were underground as she suspected, she supposed the purpose was for surviving a nuclear attack. Additionally, being underground would explain why the feds and local law enforcement hadn’t already spotted the compound from the air.

By the time they rounded the corner of the largest building she’d seen so far, only two of the men remained with her. Prentiss and the other two had gone in a different direction. The one with the gun at her back kept her moving forward with the occasional nudge. Beyond the large building were increasingly smaller ones. Along the east side of the wall the smallest structures were numbered. They sat in a long row like cabin rentals at the lake. Only there was no lake—not that she’d seen so far anyway—and this was no vacation. The long, low building that stood the farthest west from the center of the grounds had no windows and appeared to be their destination. The squat roofline told her it was one story. She saw only one entrance along the front, assuming what she was looking at was the front.

The second of the two guards unlocked and opened the door. Number one nudged her to go in. The guards followed close behind her. An immediate left took them down a long white corridor lined with doors on either side. No windows on the doors, either. Midway down the corridor, they stopped at a door and number two guard unlocked it with a few clicks of the keys on the control pad. Once the thick door pulled outward, Sadie understood this would be her accommodations for now. Until they decided what to do with her, she imagined.

“I’m supposed to be meeting with the man in charge,” she reminded number one.

“Tomorrow.”

The door slammed in her face.

She turned around. A dim light came from around the perimeter of the room. There was a steel cot, a toilet hanging on the wall with a sink formed in the tank. Just like the ones she had seen in the few prison cells she’d visited.

With a quick drawing back of the covers, she checked the mattress, ensured the sheets weren’t tainted with anything she could see or smell. Fabric smelled clean enough. She paced the small room and considered her options. There had been four men with Prentiss. She hadn’t seen any others when they arrived but that didn’t mean there weren’t hundreds around here somewhere. There was no accurate body count for this group.

If the Resurrection was like most of these extremist groups, there would be several hundred on-site. This was obviously a headquarters. The setup was too good to be anything else. The Bureau had been gathering information on extremist groups like this for decades. But this one had somehow managed to stay under the radar. The members didn’t talk. Fear, she imagined. It was human nature to talk about the things in which one was interested. Being a part of something like Resurrection would typically provide bragging rights for those who had a penchant for the extreme. But there was no bragging from these members.

Their silence made them even more dangerous. Restricted the available intelligence to gather, making the jobs of Sadie and others like her far more difficult. Law enforcement personnel depended upon informants and the information garnered on the streets. When information stopped flowing, it was impossible to find footing in a given situation.

Sadie braced her hands on her hips and moved around the room again, this time more slowly. She considered the walls, thought about the door when it had opened. The walls were likely made of concrete just as the door was. Thick concrete, eight inches at least. The floor and ceiling of this building appeared to be the same as the walls. The smooth, cold finish of the concrete was interrupted only by the small blocks of light around the walls near the floor. The cot was metal, the sheets a thin material more like paper than fabric. No good for constructing a hangman’s noose. She turned back to the door. The lock wasn’t the usual residential sort. It was electronic and required a code.

Getting out of here wouldn’t be easy. If she was really lucky, Levi Winters was in this same building. Assuming he was a hostage. Hopefully, he would know a way out and would be willing to go with her.

That was the problem with being underground or, perhaps, burrowed into a mountainside. Getting out was generally somewhat complicated.

She’d been in tighter spots, Sadie reminded herself.

All she had to do was find her target and she would locate a way out of here.

It was what she did.