FIRE STORM (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 3) by Konkoly Steven

Author:Konkoly, Steven [Konkoly, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Stribling Media
Published: 2018-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Ecker reached for the rear passenger door handle, eager to get this over with. In a few minutes, he would either be free to join his family or dead. His bet was on the latter. They truly didn’t have any practical reason to risk letting him go.

“Front seat, if you don’t mind,” said Rich.

“Sure,” said Ecker, pretty sure his bet was a sure thing.

He got inside the vehicle and closed the door. Even the driver wouldn’t look at him. All Ecker wanted to do was see his babies again. These people didn’t have any right to take that away from him. He engaged every ounce of restraint he could muster to keep his right hand away from the thigh holster that softly beckoned him. Maybe he was being paranoid, and they’d honor their word, like he fully intended to do. The rear passenger door slammed shut.

“Let Larsen’s HUMVEE and the van back out first,” said Rich. “We’ll meet up with them shortly.”

He said “Larsen” on purpose. Ecker’s hand started to drift from its position on the door to the holster. He’d probably be dead before he got the pistol halfway out.

“Ecker, what’s your first name?” said Rich.

“Frank,” he said, stopping his hand.

“Frank, contrary to what you’re probably thinking right now, I’m not going to kill you. You’re free to go once we find you suitable transportation.”

Ecker breathed an audible sigh of relief and moved his hand as far away from his holster as he could without looking like an idiot.

“I do want to make something perfectly clear to you,” said Rich. “And you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Ecker turned to look at him. “That’s fine. I can take it.”

“If you double-cross us, not only will I kill you, but I’ll kill everyone you hold dear,” he said, pushing a slip of paper between the seats.

Ecker swallowed hard and took the folded sheet, unfolding it in his lap. It was a full-color Google Maps street view of his house in South Bend.

“Regardless of what happens to me and this team, the order will be executed by others,” said Rich. “Do we understand each other?”

“Yes. I have no intention of double-crossing you.”

“Then we’re good,” said Rich, his tone suddenly uplifted.

“We’re good,” said Ecker, still not fully convinced he wasn’t about to die.

“Let’s get Frank an SUV with enough fuel to get home,” said Rich.

A few minutes later, he sat in a late model Nissan Pathfinder, its engine revving thanks to the smartphone-sized device Graves had given Rich. The tank wasn’t full, but the console display indicated he had enough fuel to make the trip home, with a little to spare for detours.

“I recommend you drive a good distance west before you pick a route north. You want to get north of Lebanon before heading east again,” said Rich. “Just to be sure.”

“Thank you for not killing me,” said Ecker.

“It goes against my better judgment, but—” he said, pausing. “Let’s just leave it at that.”

Ecker couldn’t help but grin.

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