Ethan’s mind flashed back to a quail hunt with his brother, Ham tagging along, chattering about the migrating habits of quail, the geology of the area, trying not so much to impress them as to fit in.
“All right. Thanks.” Ethan wanted to comfort Mia with a touch, take her gag off, but he didn’t want to risk startling her. He took Tatro’s knife, isolated one of the wires and glanced back at Ham. “Don’t move, don’t say a word.”
The trick was to disarm the bomb without tripping the tumbler.
“Here goes.” Carefully, but using just enough strength, he cut the wire. Then he breathed. “Got it. We’re good, Mia. You’re safe.”
Her shoulders slumped. Ethan quickly pulled off her blindfold and gag, but she didn’t react. He cut the ropes binding her hands and feet, speaking to her softly.
“He’s coming back,” Ham said. “That shaved-head nut. He hates all three of us. Thinks we’re traitors.”
“I’m not—” Mia’s voice was very weak, but her eyes fluttered open. “I’m not a traitor.”
Ham was staring at her. “Man, Dr. O’Farrell. I didn’t expect you to be so beautiful.”
She gave him a faltering smile, then shifted to Ethan. She still hadn’t moved. “He believes we conspired to get a multimillion-dollar ransom for ourselves. He’s—he’s interrogating me. Ethan, I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
Ham frowned. “Multimillion? The emeralds are worth a half million, tops.”
Her eyes managed to focus on him. “Where did they come from?”
“They’re the ransom my parents paid. I switched them at the last minute, and Tatro ended up with worthless rocks. That’s why he’s so pissed. He thought I paid off Brooker for rescuing me, and that Brooker gave them to Juliet—”
Ethan got Mia to her feet, holding her up, and said, “We’ll sort out the whys and wherefores later. Let’s get out of here.”
Ham went to one of the apple crates.
“Ham, what are you doing?”
“Seeing what’s in this crate. No wonder he trussed us up.” He rummaged in the crate and turned around, awkwardly holding an MP5. “We could have shot our way out of here.”
Ethan frowned. “What else is there?”
“Ammo. Want me to load this thing?”
“That’s okay. I’ll do it. Bring me a gun and a clip, okay?”
Mia tried to clutch his sleeve, but her fingers couldn’t hold on. He continued to hold her up. She said, “He’s my source. He gave me the tips—about the marshal, about you being able to recognize Ham. He wants you. Because of Afghanistan.”
“He wants to kill me—”
“Or convert you to the cause.”
Ethan helped her, half carrying her as they moved toward the door.
Ham joined them. He had two guns and two clips. “Ethan, you need to go after this guy. Now, before he has a chance to strap someone else to a booby-trapped chair.”
“I know.” Ethan took one of the guns, an MP5, and jammed in a clip. He handed it to Ham. “This place will be filling up with cops any minute. Kelleher is the name of your shaved-head wingnut. Matt Kelleher. If he shows up, shoot him.”
“Okay.”
But he was pale, and Ethan took the other MP5. “Don’t you two get into some big long analytical discussion. Just point the gun at his chest and pull the trigger. Go for body mass. Don’t try to shoot him in the head.”
Mia sank onto the floor next to the door, clearly too far gone even to hold a weapon. Ham was in only marginally better shape. But he took the MP5, nodding. “I’ve got it, Ethan. Don’t worry.”
“Be sure it’s Kelleher. Don’t just start shooting—”
“Just go,” Ham said. “Get this bastard.”
Mia dug her fingers into Ethan’s hand. “Don’t—don’t shut the door. Please.”
He nodded. “I won’t.”
He shoved a clip into the second MP5 and, without another word, ducked out of the barn and into the woods.
Mia sat in the sunlight, her back against an apple crate Ham had dragged over to the door. She could smell water on the breeze. “There’s a lake nearby?” But Ham didn’t hear her, or was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to respond. She felt weak, listless, the drugs and the bruises and the fear—the awful fear—having merged into a kind of numbness. And she was thirsty. But if she asked Ham for water, she was afraid he’d start digging through more crates and forget about Kelleher. “A nice, smart, rich guy like you. I’ll bet if you’d cut your hair, you’d get all the girls.”
He heard that. “Really?”
She smiled. “Yes, really. I wished we’d met under better circumstances.”
“Me, too.” His brow furrowed as he stared down at the submachine gun in his lap, but Mia didn’t think that was what he was seeing. He looked up again, his eyes almost vacant. “The emeralds actually came from Kelleher. He used them to manipulate Tatro. I should have known. I thought my folks made a deal with him. He—I was on to him. Kelleher. Remember I told you I was on to an emerald-smuggling ring?”