Chapter 15
Roanoke, Virginia
29 September 1995
Driving back to the east coast was like coming full circle, Jack thought, as he took the interstate that would lead him into Roanoke. Only this time, he was returning with his target alive and well next to him.
Once again, they had taken a circuitous route that skirted the major cities, brought them south into Springfield, and then northwards again to Fort Wayne. Steering clear of Chicago, they finally headed down south towards Columbus and then east to Virginia, travelling under the cover of night as much as they could, mostly beginning their trek when the evening rush hour started.
Ditching cars and hot-wiring various forms of transport had become second-nature; he'd watch the perimeter of the place while she got their vehicle up and running. Sometimes they spent the night in the car, sometimes they checked into a motel that was far off from any town.
Jack silently thanked Carter's skills with the computer that had enabled the use of her father's ID that allowed him to narrow down the search of his old friend. He made a turn out of the highway onto Westview Drive, took another right into Cork Street, then a left, re-entering the lit tunnel that was a two-lane road cut underground to allow traffic above to flow undisrupted.
The underground pass was surprisingly devoid of cars as traffic bustled overhead.
That didn't seem right.
Just as he made out the sliver of light that signalled the end of the tunnel, the back window exploded into a million shards of glass.
Carter yelped in shock then ducked immediately, flattening herself as much as she could down the passenger seat, barely avoiding another bullet striking the back window that shattered more glass around them.
"Hold on!" Jack yelled as he hunched as much as he could, trying to keep the speed of the vehicle, risking a glance at his wing mirrors.
A black SUV in the distance was quickly gaining on them. A hooded figure was leaning out of the passenger seat, readying the next shot.
He tried keeping his foot on the accelerator, drifting a bit to compensate for the momentary loss of control. The car shifted right, nearly skimming the tunnel walls.
Unholstering her own weapon, Carter turned in her seat, undid her belt and squeezed out several rounds from her Beretta.
The first three shots ricocheted harmlessly off the concrete wall when Jack swerved right.
She ducked again, barely avoiding the next shot issued from the SUV's passenger seat, then hit her head hard on the side of the door, reeling from the G-forces as O'Neill swerved left this time. Raising her gun, she took aim as best as she could. Her fourth shot found its place in the SUV's windscreen, barely making a dent on it.
Bullet-proof glass.
"Shit!" She swore loudly and twisted back in her seat to check the remainder of her magazine. Satisfied that there was a last shot left, she leant out again, this time aiming for the SUV's tyres. Blowing their tyres would at least slow them down and buy O'Neill some more time to get away, she reasoned.
Taking careful aim, she fired.
The loudness of the boom echoed through the tunnel as her last bullet buried itself into SUV's front tyre, but not before an answering shot took out their own car's steering ability.
She registered the SUV's unsteady drifting and fell back heavily into the seat.
"Carter!" He barked, trying to regain control of the car as best as he could.
"What?" She yelled back, shoving a new round into her gun.
"The car's good as gone. We're going to have to jump," O'Neill instructed over the din of squealing wheels, then accelerated as much as the car could take. "Grab what you can from the back, give some bags to me. I'm speeding up to gain distance, then braking hard for us to go. We're coming out of the tunnel now. Get ready."
Carter was already grabbing their duffels from the back seat, flinging the strap over her shoulder. She handed another one to him and watched him to do the same as he slowed the car down as much as he could without allowing the SUV to close the distance.
"On my mark," he said through gritted teeth, using one hand to steer and another to readjust the strap of the duffel.
The street lamps whizzed past them as he rounded a corner and into the fading light of the evening. She felt the blood pound in her ears as the adrenaline filled her veins, her senses registering the unusually loud whine of the car's engine rumble.
"Ready…and…go!"
Sam pushed open her door and flung herself out onto the pavement, bracing for the impact when her body would hit the concrete. A second later, she slammed hard onto the ground and rolled into a crouch, wincing at the sudden shock that sent a wave of pain down her side. She took a second to re-orientate, thankful that the soft duffel had taken some of her fall.
Looking up, she saw that O'Neill had done the same but he was much faster than her, and was now quickly running towards her from the opposite side of the road. He had already drawn his weapon, held tightly in his right hand with the duffel slung over his shoulder the way she had done hers. Hurriedly, she righted herself and felt him grab her elbow as he came to her side.
A few metres away, their abandoned car had mounted the kerb and crashed into a street sign, partially blocking the lane. There was no way in hell there could be no oncoming traffic, especially not when the main arterial roads leading out of the city were running perpendicular to this particular bypass.
Which meant that the ends of the road must have been blocked for a specific purpose, the implications of which were chilling.
Behind them, she heard a screeching sound from a vehicle's sudden brake and the rumbling engine of the SUV as it neared them.
O'Neill was already pointing to the left of the junction that was twenty metres down the road.
"That way!"
They took the curve of the road, and went around the divider, concealed by the obtuse angle of the upcoming intersection. Taking a left, they ran as far as they could up the walled road, up the slight incline then stopped at the corner that offered them minimal hiding space. Crouching down, she crept up to the sloping part of the wall where she could have a view of the road, forcibly swallowing her fear.
Four hooded men had emerged from the vehicle armed to the teeth, carrying rifles and Berettas as they made their way towards the intersection that they had just crossed.
Military, or hired professionals, she thought, watching their calm demeanour as two of them took the left turn and the other two turned right in search of them.
Jack's tactical assessment of their situation was grim: they were hemmed in, trapped between the walled, narrow uphill road that curved right from another junction and the shooters who were coming towards them from the other end of the road. From the top of the gentle slope, he heard the revved engine of another approaching vehicle.
Cornering both him and Carter.
Cutting off all plausible outlets of escape. In all likelihood, the car or truck turning their way wasn't friendly.
He looked upwards, then left and right, calculating the amount of time that would take for the vehicle to reach them. Fifteen, maybe twenty seconds.
The shooters would be there in less than ten.
They could scale the walls. Their heights gave them an advantage.
"Carter, get over the wall. I'm gonna give you a boost," he snapped and crouched immediately, cupping his hands.
"What about you?" Her eyes were wide in near panic. The thought of leaving him behind made her nauseous.
"You can pull me up when you're at the top. Come on!"
She wasted no time, stepping into his cupped hands and pushing herself onto the top, then leaned forwards to extend her hands to him. Once he had hauled himself up, she dropped down to the other side and waited.
He had barely scrabbled to the top to swing his legs over the wall when they caught sight of him. He dropped over to the other side next to Carter, barely managing to avoid the spray of bullets that marred the white wall black.
He had no doubts that those men were already climbing up after him. Grabbing Carter's hand, he made off into the junkyard, past the disused storage buildings that stored hills of scrap metal.
Taking a quick look around him as they ran at full speed, he realised that they had climbed into a large, industrial junkyard that ran parallel to the entire length of the tunnel they had exited a few minutes ago. Rounding the corner of the building, he signalled for them to stop, holstering his gun as he stood against the wall.
What the hell was he thinking?
As though he'd heard her unspoken question, he turned and nodded at her, trying to reassure her with his eyes.
Sam nodded back at him once, took his lead and raised her gun, pressing her back against the rough brick wall and steadied her stance. She had understood what he'd meant to do: a good, old-fashioned trap that would take them unawares from a blind corner.
They would only get one chance at this. Any hesitation on her part would be fatal for the both of them. She took in a deep breath to calm her nerves.
The heavy sound of footsteps. Running their way.
The sound of bones breaking reached her ears as O'Neill moved like lightning, breaking the man's hand that held the rifle followed by his neck.
Taking advantage of the second shooter's momentary distraction, she put two rounds into his chest and watched him crumple to the ground.
It was all over in seconds.
She slumped against the brick wall, panting as the tension drained out of her, the gun hanging limply off her fingers.
O'Neill was already grabbing their rifles, rummaging through their pockets for any sort of identification. He retrieved what looked like their wallets and shoved them into his duffel.
"Carter, get up," he whispered harshly and moved to help her up. "No time to lose. There're two more of them out there looking for us and they would have heard the shots if they're nearby. Let's go!"
She scrambled to her feet, mindful of the unfamiliar aches that she was starting to feel in various parts of her body and crossed the open courtyard with him, not liking the lack of cover.
As they turned the corner, she saw the urban sprawl in the distance, the twinkling lights of the city looking like a beckoning angel of salvation.
O'Neill helped her over the low ledge of the last block they had passed, and from that alcove, they had a vantage point where they could survey the entire courtyard of the industrial estate.
A heavy hand on her shoulder made her look at him.
He tilted his head westwards and she saw the third man approaching their hiding place. In a few seconds, he would be directly under where they were standing.
A single, carefully-aimed gunshot from O'Neill took him out, and she watched him fall to the ground face forward.
She was about to turn to him when a hand clamped hard over her mouth in a vise-like grip. A backwards headbutt and a blind kick to the shin made her attacker grunt in surprise but he recovered quickly, pulling her down onto the ground in a hard pivot.
He was most likely trained in hand-to-hand combat but so was she.
It was her fight. At least she was determined for it to be. Hoping that O'Neill did not interfere, she dug in, praying dimly that the fleeting – and perhaps foolish – show of bravado wouldn't cost her a price too high to pay.
They rolled, each trying to gain dominance over the other. A foot in her ribs caused her gun to be tossed to the side. Her answering lurch into him made the both of them crumple to the ground. Her attacker's heavier weight an advantage, he moved easily to pin her down, but she twisted and tried to reach upwards, scissoring her legs to knock him off his balance. The unexpected blow made him fall on his knees next to her, but not before a vicious swipe of his arm against her face brought her down with him again. She stifled a groan of pain as she fell partially atop him, trying to scramble to her feet once more.
He lunged sideways for her. She rolled to avoid him and moved to the side as quickly as she could, stumbling in her haste to reach her gun, finding the holster empty.
Her Beretta skidded and screeched across the empty space, then stopped squarely in her outstretched hand. She gratefully looked up to see O'Neill's grim expression as he'd kicked her gun towards her. Scrambling to get a foothold, she spun to face her attacker.
The telltale click of the trigger being pulled had her attacker looking at her in that frozen moment of horror.
In the next second, she emptied the rest of her clip into his chest.
The noise was deafening in the relative silence of the abandoned estate.
Sam stood unmoving over the body of the downed man, watching the blood rapidly stain the ground.
Somewhere in the distance, O'Neill seemed to be speaking. His voice shook her from the dreamlike haze that seemed to permeate the entire situation.
"…Carter…you ok?"
His eyes were dark with concern, his brow furrowed.
No, she wasn't. Basic training, flying in the gulf followed by lab research hadn't really prepared her for this. But O'Neill was never going to know that. She forced herself to speak. "Yeah. Let's go."
He paused before moving off, meeting her eyes. "You did good back there, Carter."
She watched his long strides with a troubled expression, then moved to follow him.
Jack kept a careful eye on her as they quickly dismantled two of the rifles of their attackers and buried the parts in various scrap heaps.
They kept the other two.
"A short-barreled SCAR-L. Modern hollowpoint ammunition that's forbidden to the rest of the military. Officially, at least. Expanding bullets," he clarified and glanced at her. "The same sort that I used to use."
"The sort given to the Special Forces soldiers?"
"Yeah."
She checked the clips of the rifle then dismantled the gun as best as she could so that its parts could fit into her bag.
Her movements were jerkier and clumsier than what he was used to seeing, something that he could either attribute to her relative inexperience with such situations or to her barely concealed reaction to the events of the past hour. The latter seemed more likely.
He was doing the same thing as she did, only with a more experienced and faster hand. Pausing, he stopped his actions, moving to reassure her and quietly said, "I meant what I said earlier, Carter. You did good. More than good, actually."
She gave him a humourless chuckle. "Level three, advanced, hand-to-hand. It's got to count for something, right?"
He studied her closely, silently, then nodded. Then seeing her nearly finished, he beckoned her forward. "C'mon."
Merging into the pedestrian flow even at the outskirts of the city was going to be difficult – again. They looked – once more – worse for wear, dishevelled as hell, and pretty much like the tramps they were. He pulled his cap over his eyes and she drew her hood over her head, hiding her bright hair.
"What now?" Carter asked in a low voice. "There's probably another vehicle full of them out there."
"Yeah, they can't be too far, but sometimes the most obvious way is the best form of subterfuge," he replied equally softly.
"What do you mean?"
"These guys can't afford to make a commotion in a crowded place. The last thing they want to do is cause any panic in public. It's an internal job. Furthermore, navigating in a car is also different from navigating on foot. If you walk, there're more pathways open to you than it would be for a car."
She thought for a moment. "So you're banking on them not being able to take the same routes we're taking?"
"That, and that they've got to be discreet about it," he agreed.
"Which might also mean that the most obvious way could be the safest," she pointed out thoughtfully. "How well do you know this place?"
He frowned in concentration, trying to remember the exact layout of the city as best as he could. "The city in the '80s? In the good ol' days, pretty well. Used to visit over several summers a long time ago. Anyway, if I do remember correctly, we aren't too far from where we want to be. About five miles in this direction, then another three more when we cross the transverse that cuts through the centre of town through the park. On foot."
Still pumped on adrenaline, her heart still pounding, she nodded.
"Let's go."