King and Maxwell (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 6)
“I just do. And I have to believe you want to get back to them.”
“And how do I explain losing the cargo?”
“You won’t have to, trust me,” replied Simons.
“That’s the problem, I don’t trust you.”
“Then we’re all going to die right here. It’s that simple.”
The driver eyed the pickup trucks. He didn’t believe anything he had been told. But he desperately wanted to get out of this alive, if only to make things right later.
Simons said, “Look, we’re obviously not the Taliban. Hell, I’m from Nebraska. My creds are the real deal. We’re on the same side here, okay? Why else would I be here?”
The driver finally said, “So you want me to just withdraw quietly from the field?”
“That was my offer.”
“How do you propose doing this?”
“First thing, don’t release the button,” advised Simons.
“Then don’t pull your triggers.” He edged toward the pickup trucks. The men parted to allow him passage.
“I’ll be taking the green truck,” he said abruptly. He saw Simons give a nearly imperceptible flinch, which was good. He’d made the right decision. The black truck was obviously booby-trapped.
He reached the green truck and eyed the ignition. The keys were in there. There was also a GPS mounted on the dash.
Simons called out, “What’s the range on the detonator?”
“I’ll keep that to myself.”
He threw his knapsack on the front seat, climbed into the truck, and started the engine. He eyed the gas gauge. Full. He kept his free hand ready with the detonator.
Simons said, “How can we trust you not to detonate when you’re well away?”
“It’s a question of range,” he replied.
“Which you haven’t told us.”
“So you just have to trust me, Nebraska. Just like I have to trust you that this truck isn’t wired to blow up as soon as I’m out of here. Or maybe it was the other one that was.”
He pushed the gas pedal to the floor and the truck roared out of the stone building. He expected shots to be fired at him. None came.
He imagined they believed that would lead to their deaths when he released the button in retaliation.
When he was far enough away, he looked at the black box. If the guys back there were CIA, there was a lot more going on here than he cared to think about right now. But he wanted to see it through. And the only way to do that was to let this play out. And stay alive.
He disengaged the detonator and tossed it on the front seat.
Now he just had to get the hell out of here.
He hoped that was possible. Most people came to this part of the world simply to kill or be killed.
CHAPTER
3
SEAN KING DROVE WHILE MICHELLE MAXWELL rode shotgun.