Chapter 44
-
Windsor Island
Flint heard a rifle shot across the golf course.
Nancy’s head snapped back. The tablet fell off her lap and shattered on the terrace stone. Blood sprayed across the table as she toppled from her chair and landed on the patio.
Everyone else hit the deck.
When no further shots were fired, Fisher jumped to his feet and started toward Nancy’s body, then stopped when he saw her lifeless eyes and the blood beginning to pool beneath her.
Flint pressed himself against the terrace’s low wall while he scanned the field of fire. Drake had rolled behind a planter. Lizzy crouched near the table legs with her hands over her head. The gardener and Elsa had fled.
The intruder walked off the golf course and onto the private patio as if he’d been invited. Casual. Unruffled.
Unmistakable.
Devon Cole, one of the richest men alive, with a face more familiar than the Pope. His image had appeared everywhere, every day for more than twenty years. Only a blind man could have failed to recognize him.
What the hell was he doing here?
Flint scanned the area quickly, but the peace remained mostly undisturbed.
Fisher’s security system should have been screaming by now. Motion detectors, audio sensors, perimeter cameras, and more. The estate’s sophisticated security network would have registered the gunshot immediately. But the usual security protocols weren’t happening.
“Seems that communications and systems are experiencing some temporary interference.” Cole’s smile was cold and satisfied.
“You son of a bitch,” Fisher replied, shaking with impotent rage. “You killed Nancy in cold blood.”
“I’m sad to lose Nancy, too. She’d been with me for years.
But I could no longer trust her. She’d become way too loyal to you.
” Cole’s expression showed genuine regret.
“My security team saw her spot our positioning around the estate. She must have thought we were a threat to you because she attempted a call for assistance. We had no choice. We were forced to eliminate the threat.”
Fisher fumed on the sidelines but didn’t argue.
Cole pulled a satellite phone from his pocket. “Perimeter status.”
As Cole was distracted listening for the report, Flint heard another helicopter approaching. Cole disconnected and gestured toward Lizzy.
Coldly, he said, “Elizabeth Pace.”
Lizzy looked up, terrified. “You remember me.”
Cole stepped closer and Fisher moved protectively toward Lizzy. “What do you want?”
Cole ignored him, focused entirely on Lizzy. He reached to grab her arm and Lizzy deftly stepped aside.
“Command, this is Overwatch,” Cole’s radio crackled. “Additional security approaching from marina. Three vehicles. Armed personnel deploying.”
Cole keyed his radio: “Copy that. No engagement unless they breach perimeter.”
Flint saw the tactical picture developing. Cole’s security had isolated the estate, neutralized Fisher’s immediate protection, and was now managing the extraction and backup response as well.
“What do you want?” Fisher demanded again.
“I want you and your hired guns to stay out of my way,” Cole replied, indicating Flint and Drake with a tilt of his head. “That message was clear enough to your father until he joined up with the DEA. Unfortunate mistake. We all know how that turned out. You can avoid making the same error.”
“You’re not after Lizzy, then,” Fisher replied.
“Elizabeth Pace has been dead a long time. She needs to stay that way,” Cole replied. “I will fix that, too.”
Lizzy’s voice was barely a whisper. “Except I’m not dead. Never was.”
Cole gave her a hard, steady glare. “I underestimated you, Lizzy. A mistake I would have corrected years ago if I’d known. I won’t make the same error a second time.”
The radio crackled with static. One of Cole’s men stated, “Command, perimeter breach attempt. Fisher security trying to advance up the north access road.”
Cole raised his hand for silence, staring at Lizzy. “That’s another problem I’ll solve. Immediately.”
Fisher stepped between them. “Lizzy saved my family. Dylan, Kevin, and Maureen. They’re alive.”
“She claims she rescued them, but what else would she say?” Cole replied sardonically. “We both know the house burned to ashes. The official records reflect that nothing survived. Lizzy included.”
Flint stepped forward. “What did you use? Aviation fuel? Thermite? White phosphorus? Something that burns hotter than a normal house fire to destroy all the evidence.”
Cole ignored Flint’s questions.
“But we didn’t die. I’m standing right here. Frankie saved all of us,” Lizzy nodded.
“Nice job of hiding all these years, Lizzy,” Flint said. “Cole here would have killed you long before now if he’d known you were alive.”
Cole continued to ignore Flint. He stared at Lizzy as if she were a ghost. “You’re telling me both you and all three of those kids got out of the house?”
The radio crackled again. “Fisher security has reached the main gate. They’re demanding entry.”
Cole didn’t respond. His carefully controlled world was collapsing around his old miscalculation.
“Sir, we need guidance on the security response,” his operative pressed.
Four men rappelled down from the helicopter, weapons ready, spreading out to secure the terrace. They stood waiting for orders from a commander who was no longer thinking tactically.
Cole asked Lizzy, “The children. Where are they?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “We got separated years ago.”
“You’re done, Cole.” Drake emerged from behind the planter, weapon ready. “We’ll find them. And when we do, they’ll remember everything.”
The radio chatter became more urgent: “Situation escalating. Multiple agencies now en route. We need immediate guidance.”
Cole looked around the terrace. Fisher. Lizzy. His own security team waiting for orders and running out of time to execute them.
Flint and Drake, weapons drawn.
Perhaps for the first time ever, Devon Cole didn’t know what to do next.
Flint saw his moment.
Cole’s shock at learning about Lizzy and the surviving children had broken his tactical focus.
Shifting his weight, Flint signaled Drake.
But Cole’s lead man had been watching Flint’s movements.
“Sir, subjects are preparing to engage,” the man reported calmly.
Cole’s head snapped back to the present situation. Shock was replaced by cold calculation.
“Secure Fisher and the woman,” Cole ordered. “Minimum force.”
The four guards immediately adjusted their formation. Two moved to flank Fisher and Lizzy keeping their weapons trained on Flint and Drake. Two more guards held their positions to block escape routes.
“Fisher security at the gate is demanding immediate entry,” crackled one of Cole’s men over the radio.
Cole keyed his radio with steady hands. “Redirect to the south gardens. Tell them Mr. Fisher needs assistance there immediately.”
“You’re splitting their response,” Drake said.
Cole replied, “While they secure the empty gardens, we leave from the marina.”
The helicopter’s rotors increased pitch overhead.
“Mr. Fisher, Ms. Pace,” Cole said formally. “Time to go.”
Fisher stepped protectively in front of Lizzy. “We’re not going anywhere with you.”
The nearest guard moved closer, weapon ready but not directly threatening. “Sir, please don’t make this difficult.”
Flint started to raise his pistol, but two rifle muzzles immediately tracked him. Drake was similarly covered from his position behind the planter.
“Don’t tempt me, Flint. Four trained militia against two civilians and two investigators,” Cole observed. “Poor odds for you.”
“South garden diversion successful,” the radio reported. “Marina approach is clear.”
Flint saw his last chance slipping away. Fisher and Lizzy were being moved toward the helicopter extraction point, surrounded by mercenaries who maintained perfect discipline.
Any aggressive move would put Fisher and Lizzy in the crossfire. Cole and his team had positioned themselves to use the civilians as shields while maintaining tactical superiority.
Cole moved toward the terrace edge where the rescue basket waited. “Thirty seconds, people.”
Three armed guards pointed weapons at Flint and Drake while the guard nearest Fisher gestured with his rifle. “This way, please.”
Flint calculated rapidly to confirm.
No good options left.
Only the bad options.
Which were better than nothing.
Flint lunged forward, driving his shoulder into the nearest guard’s midsection. The man stumbled backward, his rifle swinging wide for a crucial second. He kept moving, scrambling toward Fisher.
But the other guards reacted instantly. The lead guard’s rifle butt caught Flint in the ribs, doubling him over. A second guard grabbed Flint’s gun arm, twisting it hard and high behind his back.
Drake rolled out from behind the planter with his weapon raised. Instantly, two rifle muzzles trained on him.
“Stand down!” the lead gunman commanded.
Drake scanned and evaluated the situation. Two expert marksmen less than ten feet away aiming straight for his chest. No chance. He lowered his weapon.
One of the men fired. Drake was hit. He dove to one side, landed on the ground, and rolled toward cover.
Flint struggled against the arm lock, but the guard applied pressure to his wrist until his fingers opened, and his pistol clattered to the terrace stone.
“Predictable,” Cole observed calmly. “But pointless.”
The guard Flint had tackled was already back in position, covering Fisher and Lizzy.
“Sir, extraction basket is in position,” came the radio call from the helicopter.
Flint was forced to his knees, one guard maintaining the arm lock while another kept his rifle trained on Drake.
“Time to go,” Cole announced.
Fisher gave Flint a look of helpless frustration as he was guided toward the waiting extraction basket.
Lizzy’s terrified eyes met Flint’s for a moment before she too was moved toward the helicopter.
Cole paused before he entered the basket. “Better luck next time, Flint.”
The basket rose into the night sky, taking Cole and his prisoners with it.
There was nothing more Flint could do here. All the money in the world wouldn’t stop a bullet aimed at point blank range.