The Plantation - By Chris Kuzneski Page 0,105

close and personal.”

“Why’s that?” Payne demanded.

“First of all, if I kill these guys long-range, there’s no one to stop their speeding truck. I mean, the last thing we want is for Ariane to smash into a tree with a bomb strapped to her leg.”

“Good point.”

“Secondly, I get the feeling Holmes has been running things, and if that’s the case, it’d be foolish to kill him without interrogating him first. There’s no telling where he has slaves stored, and if we shoot him, there’s a chance we won’t be able to find them for a very long time.”

Payne groaned at the possibilities. “Isn’t a face-to-face confrontation kind of risky?”

“Definitely. And if you’d prefer, I’m still willing to pick these guys off with a scope. Of course, keep this in mind: Ariane might be one of those hidden slaves.”

THEY drove straight to the house, across the grass of the main yard. Once they had stopped, Holmes honked the horn, hoping Webster would come to the front door. It worked. He immediately swung the door open, sticking his head out of the narrow crack.

“Can you guys come inside and give me a hand? I’m not strong enough to carry this stuff.”

Greene looked at Holmes and frowned. He didn’t have a clean shot from his current position, and by the time he raised his weapon, Webster would be able to duck inside the house.

“Before we do,” Greene countered, “we want you to give us a hand with something.”

“Really? What do you need?”

Greene glanced at Holmes and shrugged. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Holmes jumped to his rescue with the first thing that popped into his head. “The guards have Payne and Jones cornered by the swamp, and we need help flushing ’em out. You’re the smartest guy here, so we figured you could come up with something.”

A grimace filled Webster’s face. He didn’t know what to make of Holmes’s comment, but he realized something strange was going on. “Guys, I’d hate to waste my time going all the way down to the swamp for nothing. Are you sure you have them cornered?”

“Oh, yeah,” Greene claimed. “We got ’em trapped all right. I made the identification myself. Now we just need some help flushing ’em out.”

Payne, who was hiding behind the door, sensed Webster’s desire to make a break for the truck, so he tightened his grip on him before he could move.

“Don’t even think about it,” he whispered. “Tell them you can’t leave until they come inside and give you a hand. Insist if you have to.”

Webster obeyed. “Guys, I can’t help you right now. I’ve got other things to worry about inside.” He tilted his head toward the door in an effort to signal Holmes and Greene, but they didn’t understand what he was pointing to. “I think it would be best if you gave me a hand.”

Greene growled softly as he watched Webster twitch his head. He couldn’t believe how swiftly he was becoming unglued. “I don’t know what your deal is, but we need you in the truck right now. Time is running out, so let’s go.”

“Come on!” Holmes shouted. “We need your help immediately!”

Webster tried to move toward the truck but wasn’t strong enough to tear away from Payne. In fact, the only thing that he managed to do was piss him off.

“Do that again and I’ll bite off your fucking ear.”

“Come on,” Holmes repeated. “Let’s go! Now!”

“I can’t come,” Webster assured him. “I’d like to, but I can’t. I really can’t.”

Greene had heard enough. The cops were probably on their way, and the only thing that stood between him and freedom was a 150-pound computer geek. Angrily, Greene threw his door open and climbed out. “I’m sick of this. Come out here now before you really piss me off.”

He accented his statement with a slam of the truck door.

And that was what Jones and Blount had been waiting for. They quietly opened their windows on the second floor of the plantation house and thrust their weapons outside. Once they had settled into comfortable positions, they aimed their guns at their targets. Jones focused on Greene. Blount pointed at Holmes, who remained inside the truck.

After counting to five, Payne threw the front door open while using Webster as a shield. “Show me your hands!” he shouted. “Show me your fucking hands!”

Greene stopped dead in his tracks and slowly raised his two closed fists into the air.

“Surprised to see us?” Jones teased from above. “You must be, since we’re currently trapped

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