They were constantly talking and thinking about where the next payday would come from. The banner — that would be huge. But now they had two of the world’s best thieves — who might also bring a pretty penny from the right buyer.
Greedy men, then. Power-seekers. They were all violent individuals, and they loved to show it. Repressed, maybe. Brainwashed too. Crouch saw a terrorist regime among them, something less subtle than most others he’d seen but something present beneath a thinly veiled surface.
It fit in line with the DC attack.
Which brought him back to the new task he’d had many hours to figure out. An idea had flashed inside his head as the men dragged him away. He’d know instantly that he was lost, along with the thieves and the banner, so the light-bulb moment was most welcome. Even captured, he’d thought. He could still lead his team in the right direction.
Chase the gold had been the first thought to enter his mind. Now, he had to come up with something to complement those words.
First, as he was dragged away, he’d overheard a snippet of observation between two men.
“Get him and settle in for the ride.”
“Hawaii’s a long way to go, friend. Do we need him?”
“Yes. It will pass.”
That, as they dragged him along the asphalt between several men, gave him time to alert his team. It was clear they would have to stop for fuel, food and rest at some point.
And now they had.
Crouch waited with bated breath. It had been some time since they lost sight of the pursuing car, but losing the man with the automatic weapon had gained them all a little room in the back. The gas station was eight miles ahead.
Twice now, he’d tried to engage the enemy in conversation. The first time resulted in a blow to the cheek; the second a short standard curse. He was hoping the third time might be even more lenient, or revealing.
“How’s the mercenary pay these days?” he asked.
An elbow struck his face, thrown by the man at his side. Angry words followed: “We are not mercenary scum.”
Well, Crouch thought, worse than I hoped for, but at least slightly revealing.
“On a different note,” he said. “Unless you want a pool in the back seat you’re going to have to let us use the restroom ahead.”
“You will not speak.” Another blow to the head.
Crouch protested silently, and Cutler found the courage to raise the issue too. The man seated in the passenger seat ahead simply raised a hand.
“Do not worry. There is a long way to go. We will tend to your needs.”
Crouch didn’t particularly like the sound of that, and neither did Terri or Cutler judging by their expressions. He risked one more smash to the forehead.
“So many of you died back there in DC. And all for a two-hundred-year-old flag.”
As he’d hoped, the passenger commented before his subordinate could strike. “Our sacrifice, and theirs, will lead us to a better truth.”
They sounded like fanatics. Terrorists then, as he’d initially thought. That put the Star-Spangled Banner in even more peril. Of course, the chance that they were only playing a terrorist role remained strong. Crouch would have to dig more.
But not now.
Still considering his next move, the real breakthrough came for Crouch about an hour ago. The driver quietly asked his passenger to program their next destination into the satnav. Crouch had seen it all perfectly, easily. Clearly now, these men knew they had escaped DC and the pursuit of Crouch’s team, and were concentrated on prearranged stopping points to their destination.
It was why Crouch had chosen to become a sponge.
Use this information, use it. But how?
Chase the gold.
There was a chance. A clever idea, but something that required all the other members of his team to be on the same wavelength. The gold was the Star-Spangled Banner, but it could also be something else. It could be him. And it could be metaphorical too. The next step was figuring out what kind of clue to leave them.
The car slowed as it pulled off the highway and approached a set of gas pumps. Crouch looked for cameras, already considering every move he could make to help his pursuing team.
Before they stopped the man in the passenger seat turned. “You will make no commotion. If you alert anyone I will put bullets in one of your limbs and kill the people you talk to, and their companions. Do you understand me?”
Crouch agreed, as did Terri and Cutler.
“The woman must use the men’s restroom, and we will guard you all. Then we will all walk into the shop, buy food and drink, and leave. Now, move.”
Crouch stretched his legs for the first time in hours, groaning. Pain shot from his bruised ribs to his brain, making him bite his bottom lip to keep from crying out. The fresh air was a boon though, awakening his senses and sharpening his mind.
“There.” Quickly, he made a beeline for the restroom, which was built onto the side of the filling station.
Terri was by his side.
“I need a distraction,” he muttered. “Something fast two minutes after we get inside the shop. That’s all. You won’t see a benefit, but it’ll help.”
He didn’t expect her to trust him, but she was aware that he was an authority figure and friends with the FBI. Right now, the FBI were preferable to these apparent terrorists.
She nodded.
Crouch made use of the restroom along with everyone else and then headed, in a large group, into the shop. The area was extensive, lined along the walls by refrigerators and freezers, with a large coffee machine in one corner and rows of confectionery in another. Crouch saw a Shaved Ice machine, Slurpee dispensers and an indoor ATM. He spent the next minute discreetly finding a pen and some paper.
Then Terri dropped a shaved ice cup and fell over, landing on her tailbone. She grunted heavily, but their captors were right there and joined in helping her stand.
Crouch saw a window of just a few seconds.
Quickly, he scribbled a short, coded note and then folded and slipped it into the only place in the entire shop where four like-minded people might be able to find it.
And make sense of it.
It was Crouch’s only chance. It was Terri and Cutler’s only chance. It was the only chance that America had of saving its ultra-precious, symbolic national treasure.
Crouch prayed that it would work.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
They reached Wardensville just thirty minutes after Crouch had left.
Alicia made sure she made a quick recon of the place even as they drove through the parking lot. It was highly unlikely that a shooter would have been left behind, but they couldn’t take any risks. Both she and Russo exited the vehicle first and appraised the area.
Eight fuel pumps stood outside a glass-fronted shop, with a toilet block to the side and a restaurant to the rear. It was fairly typical, as far as Alicia knew. The only thing different about this one was that Michael Crouch had been here less than forty-five minutes ago. Of course, they had insisted the cops put out a BOLO — be on the lookout — for the license plate, but expected the gunmen would soon change either the plate or the car.
“Check the restrooms first,” Russo said. “Alicia, you wanna take the Men’s? I assume you’d feel right at home there.”
“Sure, I can do that.” She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a retort, knowing this would work better. “Let me know what you find in the Ladies.”
Russo was past her before she could blink. “Changed my mind. I’ll take the Men’s.”
“Thought you might.” Alicia didn’t expect to find anything, but spent a few minutes scrutinizing every surface. There was quite a bit of graffiti, which made her smile, and she had to wait for a woman to finish, but found nothing from Crouch.