Chapter 37
Parker looked around at the team. “Any questions?”
Everyone shook their heads.
Unsurprisingly, the men Richter had sent him were all seasoned pros and had understood the plan the first time through.
“Good.” Parker checked his watch. “It’s a quarter after eight. Be ready to head out in an hour.”
The meeting broke up, the only person remaining behind being the client.
“You have a question, Mr. Weeks?” Parker asked.
“No questions, but I want you to know I’m coming with you.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Good idea or not, I’m coming.”
Parker took a deep breath. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but I don’t need you tagging along and getting in the way. We’re the pros. Leave this to us.”
The client smiled. “I understand your concern, and if I were you, I’d have said the same. The last thing you need is an amateur screwing everything up.”
“I’m glad we agree.”
“The thing is, I am not an amateur.”
Parker looked him up and down. “Be that what it may, you’re not coming.”
The client jutted a chin at Parker’s shoulder holster. “Draw your gun on me.”
“What?”
“Humor me.”
Parker snorted. “I’m not going to draw on you.”
“Do it.”
Parker sighed, then quickly grabbed his gun to point it at the client’s head.
Before the barrel came to rest, the weapon was wrenched from his grasp and pointed back at him. No one had ever done that to Parker before.
Trying to hide how impressed he was, he said, “Okay, so you have a skill. That doesn’t mean you won’t get in our way.”
“My decades in the SVR say differently.”
Parker’s eyes narrowed. “You’re SVR?”
“I am.”
“Prove it.”
“You expect me to be carrying around some kind of identification card or letter of recommendation? That’s not how being a spy works.”
“So, I’m just supposed to believe you?”
“How about this? I will double your fee.”
Parker scrutinized him. “And if I think you’re dragging us down, you go back to the vehicle.”
“But only if I’m a real problem, not something you’ve made up.”
Parker considered it, then nodded. “Deal.”
An hour later, the team reassembled, everyone now clothed in black, with matching rain gear.
Parker passed out radios. After each man had donned their earpiece and performed radio checks, they made their way to the cargo van out front.
The rain that had started that afternoon had yet to show any signs of letting up. Many of the puddles alongside the road had grown large enough to bleed onto the asphalt, forcing the van to swerve around them where it could and to slow where it couldn’t.
Approximately a mile and a half from Barrington’s property, the van turned down the driveway of a house that Parker had earlier determined was unoccupied.
After everyone exited, Parker directed them down a path through the woods, then waited for his client, who was bringing up the rear.
“If you can’t keep up, come back here,” he said. “Don’t try to find us.”
“Don’t worry about me,” the client said.
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d stayed behind.”
“Then I guess, do worry about me,” the client told him and headed after the others.
With a grimace, Parker followed.
Ed Rawls was in his kitchen, finishing off the blackened salmon he’d made for dinner when one of his perimeter alarms went off.
He shot out of his chair and hurried into his study. On his computer monitor were feeds from several of the cameras he had covering his property. At the moment, one of the feeds was highlighted by a strobing red box, indicating that an alarm had been triggered.
Ed saw nothing in the live feed that could have set off the alert, so he rewound the footage to the minute prior and let it play.
For the first ten seconds, all was still. Then at the far reaches of the image, a blobby-looking figure moved on-screen from the right, then off on the left, followed by another, and another. By the time the procession had finished, seven blobs had passed through.
While it was possible it had been a small herd of the white-tailed deer that lived on the island, Ed had little doubt it had been a group of men. And they were heading in the direction of Stone’s house.
He called Stone’s cell, and after four rings was sent to voicemail.
“It’s Ed. Trouble coming your way. Seven men, maybe more I didn’t see. I’ll be on their flank.”
He tried Stone’s landline, but when no one picked up after three rings, he hung up and hurried to his weapons closet.
He grabbed his favorite hunting knife, a pistol with an attached silencer, and a shotgun, then headed out into the storm.
Parker and his team paused just inside the woods at the edge of Stone’s property.
He retrieved his thermal-imaging monocular and scanned the area, immediately spotting the heat signatures of two men between him and the main house.
One was huddled against the side of the building, using the eaves to protect himself from the rain.
The other was patrolling along the shoreline between the woods and the dock, moving away from Parker and his men.
A bit more hunting around and he found another person stationed at the driveway entrance to the property. A fourth showed himself briefly, on the other side of the house near the garage.
Parker whispered instructions to each member of his team. After the last was handed out, he nodded and the men dispersed, leaving him alone with the client.
He could sense that the Russian wanted to ask him what was going on, but to his credit, the man remained silent.
Several minutes passed before his men began checking in one by one. When the last was in position, Parker scanned the property again. All was as it had been.
He clicked on his mic, then whispered, “Go.”