Desh sighed and turned toward Griffin. Time to figure out just how many additional miles were in their immediate futures. “Matt, can you pull up directions to Severn and get a distance.”
Griffin’s fingers flew over the keyboard and fifteen seconds later a map was on the monitor with the driving path outlined by a bold line. “Seventy-five miles,” he announced.
Desh locked his eyes onto Kira. “Kira, we need to get moving. Can you disconnect us from the trailer park cable and gas lines, and do whatever else needs to be done for us to hit the road.”
Kira nodded. “We’ll be ready to roll in five minutes,” she said.
44
It was already a quarter to eight before Kira’s forty-foot behemoth pulled off onto an old dirt road a few hundred yards from the outer perimeter of Putnam’s property. Desh and Metzger jumped out of the vehicle immediately and fanned out in opposite directions, each carrying a pair of green binoculars, rubberized for shock resistance. During the trip each had donned assault vests and were armed to the teeth. The entire team now wore walkie-talkie earpieces with wires that disappeared beneath their shirts. Kira, who had taught herself how to handle a weapon, was armed with a familiar Glock 9-millimeter pistol while Griffin, given his complete lack of experience, remained unarmed.
Desh and Metzger had only been in place for a few minutes when a large black Cadillac pulled onto the road nearest to Putnam’s spread. The car’s windows weren’t tinted, probably once again to prevent any raised eyebrows in the neighborhood, but Desh knew a heavily armored car when he saw one and this one was armored to the gills—more tank than car.
Desh carefully turned a dial on the binoculars and focused in on the driver. Bingo. It was Sam. Samuel Frank Putnam in the flesh. They had been lucky. If they had arrived even five minutes later they would have missed his departure.
Within minutes the car was out of sight, heading in the opposite direction from where they were stationed, toward Fort Meade. Desh signaled to Metzger and they both returned to Kira’s motor home.
“Showtime,” announced Desh to the group. He handed Metzger and Griffin a gellcap from the stainless steel bottle Kira had given him. “Put these in your pockets,” he instructed. “Use them only in an absolute emergency.” He held the pill bottle out to Kira. “Kira?” he said.
She shook her head. “No thanks,” she said with a sigh. “Just kicked the habit.”
Desh and Metzger strapped rucksacks on their backs that had been stuffed full of gear during the drive to Putnam’s farm.
The colonel had gotten another hour of concentrated sleep while they drove, but was now fully awake. Desh had insisted that he stay behind to man the RV and to guard their flank.
Desh turned to the major, who was waiting for him. “Go with Matt and Kira and take up a concealed position just outside the chain-link fence,” he instructed. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Metzger looked puzzled but didn’t question Desh’s order. He took a last glance at Desh and Connelly and exited the vehicle with the two civilians in tow. They arrived at the outer perimeter of the property and waited behind a group of trees for Desh to join them. Five minutes later he arrived.
“What was that all about?” Kira whispered to Desh.
“I needed to be sure the colonel was all right,” he whispered back, “and to bury the pill canister away from the RV. Just in case.”
Desh pulled a pair of wire cutters from one of many pockets in his vest. After a few minutes of snipping links he carefully removed a three-foot square section of the fence, hoping that the transformed Matt Griffin was as good as he thought and the vibration alarm really had been rendered impotent.
They each scurried through the hole in the fence and advanced, crouching low to the ground until they came to another grouping of trees, which the entire team knelt behind. Desh removed his rucksack and propped it behind one of the trees, along with his submachine gun. Metzger held his MP-5 at the ready to protect Kira and Griffin while Desh peered around a tree with binoculars.
He scanned the area for several minutes. Finally, turning back to the others he mouthed, “Back in five minutes,” and then, pulling a tranquilizer gun from his vest, he stole away without a sound. The team had agreed they would only use lethal force on Putnam’s security people as a last resort. While this was being decided, Desh had an odd feeling that he was forgetting something important about the events at the safe house, but try as he might he couldn’t put his finger on what this might be.