"You okay, partner?"
From his crouched position, Shane glanced at John and nodded. "I'm fine," he said, though he took the moment to slow his breathing and wish he could dump the bulky coat. Unfortunately, it was far too cold to do that. The sleet was coming down faster than before, stinging at their faces as they huddled down.
Next to him, John raised the binoculars again. They had paused at the top of a small slope that rose above the main refinery grounds. It gave them some cover from view of the trailers. Shane waited as John wiped the sleet away from the binoculars and studied the landscape.
"They went into the middle trailer," John said. "What's weird is that the light went on for about a minute, then went out."
"And they didn't come out?" Shane asked.
John shook his head. "You thinking what I'm thinking, partner?"
Shane suspected he was. "If you're thinking Lawrence is hiding underground, then, yes, I have the same thought."
John chuckled. "Guess someone at City Hall hasn't been paying attention to the building out here." He turned to Shane. "So what do we do now?"
"We know Marais is in there," Shane said. He debated their options. They could go in now, maybe catch Lawrence by surprise. Or they could wait for Steve. That would be the prudent course.
The only problem is that they had no idea what might be underground. For all they knew, it could be a network of tunnels like Lawrence had at his estate in Alamainia. Maybe Marais was getting away as they waited here.
"Partner?"
Shane made his decision. "Let's go a little closer. Maybe we can spot something and maybe Steve will get here by then.
Together, they slid down the rise and made their way across the now-slippery ground. They were completely exposed to anyone keeping a lookout from the trailers, but there was no way of avoiding that. The trailers had been placed in a clearing. No matter what direction they chose for their approach, they would be visible.
Let's just hope nobody's watching, Shane thought, but the alarm bells were sounding in his head.
"I don't like the look of this," John muttered.
Shane had to agree. "I don't either." He looked around, but saw no movement. Still, he reached into the coat pocket where he had stashed his pistol and pulled it out. John followed suit. They started to creep forward toward the trailers again, but Shane stopped as he heard the whining sound of an engine.
"You hear that?" Shane asked. He and John both spun around in the direction of the increasingly louder sound. Two jeeps were bearing down on them.
"Get down!" Shane yelled as the first shots rang out. He dove to the side, then started scrambling on his hands and knees back toward the rise. Ignoring the cold, he threw off the bulky coat so it would be easier to run.
They both knew it was impossible to outrun the vehicles, but maybe the rise would give them a more defensible position.
A bullet whizzed by their heads and John growled, "They're not playing."
No, they're not, Shane said silently to himself. This was not one of Lawrence Alamain's special effects. Those were real bullets.
They reached the slope and John raced up its face. Shane was only a little behind. The air was burning his lungs and he could feel the dizziness coming on, but he pushed himself until he reached the top. Falling to the ground, he twisted around and aimed his gun at the oncoming jeeps.
His first shot hit the front, driver's-side tire of the lead vehicle. The jeep skidded on the wet, slick ground and fishtailed sideways. The second jeep clipped the rear of the first and it too came to a sudden stop.
"Nice shooting, Tex," John said, even as he continued to fire on the vehicles to keep the men inside pinned down.
Shane fired a couple of times when he saw someone starting to climb out, but he had realized that he only had the single clip in his gun. "How are you on ammo?" he asked John.
"Not good." John stopped firing to reload. "Just have this one clip left. You?"
"Think I've got eleven shots." Shane cursed himself for not planning this out better. He had not expected a firefight, but he still should have come prepared. He looked down at the men, who had managed to get a door open on the first jeep and were using it as a shield. A few new shots rang out and Shane had to duck his head.
"We need to get out of here," John said.
Shane knew that, but he also knew there was no chance they both could make it out. "They'll nail us before we reach the fence," he said. "You go. I can keep you covered."
John shook his head. "No way. I'm not leaving you here." He fired another round at a man who started to come around the door. The man fell back, shrieking. "That's one down."
"We can't take them all," Shane said, trying to reason with John.
"I don't care," John snapped. "Look, someone's probably heard the shooting, so we should get some help soon."
So just hold out long enough. That seemed like their best plan. He raised his head again and looked at the jeeps. Three men seemed to be firing from the first jeep with Kalashnikovs. He could see no movement in the second. That's funny, he thought, but a barrage of fire from the first jeep sent him back to the ground for cover.
The heavy barrage continued, preventing either of them from even moving.
"Shane. . . ." John's voice sounded nervous.
"I'm still here," Shane said.
John took a deep breath. "I need to tell you something - in case I don't make it."
"Don't even talk like that," Shane shot back. "We're going to get out of this." I wish I had some idea how.
"Isabella's pregnant."
Shane jerked his head to the side toward John. Over the sound of the gunfire, he was not completely sure he had heard John correctly. "What?"
"She's pregnant," John repeated, increasing his volume so he could be heard over the barrage. "That's what I wasn't telling you. She's gonna have a kid. And if I don't make it out of here, I need you to tell her that I'm sorry. I didn't want this to happen-"
"Would you just shut the hell up," Shane shouted. "You're getting out of here."
At that moment, Shane realized the barrage had ceased. He knew it was just a momentary pause, but he used the moment to raise his head and look down at the jeep. He could still see the three men crouched around the first jeep, but the second one remained silent and empty. Then it hit him why it had seemed funny before and he realized what that meant.
Oh, damn!
Shane twisted his head around just in time to spot the three men that had used the cover-fire from the first jeep to come around from behind. They were surrounded now, with no avenue of escape.
"Drop your weapons," said one of the men.
John must have realized what had happened also, because Shane heard a bitter curse from his friend. He looked at Shane and shrugged, then tossed his pistol aside. Shane did the same.
"On your feet with your hands up," the man ordered. He was holding another Kalashnikov and looked like he had an itchy trigger finger. Shane figured they had no choice but to comply.
The man studied them and then spoke into a walkie-talkie. "Central, we've got them." There was a squawk, and Shane heard someone say, "Hold for further instructions."
They stood there as the men tied their hands behind their backs with some rope from the first jeep. The sleet stung Shane's face as stood there and, for the first time since he had begun running, he could feel the cold again. He tried to ignore it, but without a coat, the ice seemed to seep through his wet clothes, chilling his bones as they waited for whatever was to happen next.
"We've got more company," John muttered, motioning to his left. Shane followed his gaze and saw some familiar figures approaching.
The first was Ivan Marais. The other two were the guards from Alamain's villa who had caught Shane in Lawrence's room.
The men holding him and John did nothing until Marais and the other man arrived. Marais took a look at Shane and grinned. "Ah, Captain Donovan. My boss is so pleased that you chose to visit."
"Yeah, well Lawrence's hospitality seems a bit lacking these days," Shane said, trying not to let his teeth chatter.
Marais chuckled. "Oh, you're about to get a very good sense of Mr. Alamain's hospitality. You've made his life far easier than he had planned. Now he does not even have to find a way to capture you and bring you here. You've done it all for him."
"That's me," Shane muttered. "Eager to please. . . . But if your boss wants me, then let John go."
"Ah, that's right," Marais said. "It's Mr. Black now, isn't it? It's no longer Commander Brady." He studied John for a moment and then looked back at Shane. "But I'm sorry, allowing Mr. Black to go is not part of my instructions." To the men from the jeeps, Marais, said, "Take Mr. Black down by the river and take care of him. Make sure the body is weighted enough that it stays hidden for at least a week."
"NO!" Shane shouted. He started forward, but two of the men grabbed him and held him back. John was struggling also, but three men began shoving him toward the river.
As John was bing pushed, he yelled over his shoulder, "Remember what I said, partner. Tell Isabella."
"Please," Shane begged Marais. "Just hold him until you're done with whatever you're doing and then let him go." Shane had no fear for his own safety. "This isn't his fight."
"It became his fight when he joined you, Captain Donovan." Marais leaned to the ground and picked up Shane's and John's guns. Then he turned to his two Alamainia guards. "We will take Captain Donovan from here." To the other men, he said, "Clean up this mess and make sure there are no signs that these men were here. We should be expecting the police at any time."
The two men from Alamainia grabbed Shane by the arms and began to drag him down the slope. He tried to fight them, hoping they might slip and give him room to escape, but they only grasped him more tightly. The taller of the guards looked at Marais, who sighed and then nodded. Shane felt the guards tense.
Then something struck the back of his head. His vision blurred, and he had the distinct sensation of flying - or falling - as he tumbled down the slope before the world went completely black.