Viking Vengeance Read online

  Jim was looking at her, one eyebrow raised, a half-mocking smile on his face. “Can you drive without it?” he asked.

  She sniffed, adjusted the driver's side seat and mirrors to suit herself, then pulled out of the parking lot. Jim craned his head over his shoulder, watching for obstructions, but refrained from backseat driving, for which she was grateful. When they were safely on the highway, he relaxed, leaning against the passenger side door. Ginny thought he was going to sleep, but found him watching her instead.

  It made her nervous at first, but the van’s controls were familiar, and the road was clear. Charlie, apparently unconcerned, had curled up on the air mattress in the back, and could be heard snoring.

  Ginny actually liked driving. In her native Texas, she especially liked to go west, to the vast flat regions where the roads went on forever. On a clear night she had been known to turn off the car headlamps and drive by moonlight, not hurrying, windows down, the night breeze caressing her soul.

  The sun set behind them, turning the clouds ahead deep gold, then rose, then pale blue before fading into night. She heard Jim sigh and glanced over.

  “I wish it was our honeymoon,” he said.

  “With Charlie along?” she whispered.

  He laughed. “Well, no. Just the two of us. I want to take you home with me, to set up housekeeping, and start making little Mackenzies. Himself would like that.”

  “Hush! Charlie might hear you, poor man.”

  She could see Jim shrug. “He should find a nice Canadian woman and marry her.”

  Ginny frowned. Jim might be right, but it sounded cold-hearted to say so. Charlie and Mandy had been very much in love.

  * * *

  Tuesday Evening

  Memphis, TN

  They stopped on the other side of Memphis for dinner and ate in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. Jim was thinking about family.

  An only child, he had never felt alone. Why was that? Was it an inherently male trait, to be sure of one’s self and one’s place in the world? Or had his parents given him that?

  Neither had he felt any urgency to settle down and reproduce. He’d heard women talking about a biologic clock and just assumed men didn’t have one. During medical school he’d had any number of women express interest in him, but he’d been too busy to pay much attention.

  Ginny was another matter. He’d been making a fool of himself over her from day one. Well, day two. Or day one, if you were using a twenty-four hour clock. He’d told practically everyone that he wanted to marry her, including her, and today he’d told her he wanted children by her. Without thinking it through, just blurted it out.

  Here was the urgency he’d never felt before. He wanted to swoop in on his white horse and carry her off, to settle down in a little house with a picket fence and big oak tree and a monkey swing. His imagination peopled the yard with tiny redheads, shrieking as he chased them across the lawn, then caught them and tossed them into the air, to catch them again, and cover them with kisses. Her, too. He sighed to himself. Patience was becoming difficult.

  He paid the tab (Charlie paying cash for his own, to foil anyone who might want to track their movements through the credit cards), then herded his charges back to the car.

  “It’s your turn to drive, Charlie.”

  They were moving into a part of the country where they might see snow. The prudent thing was to let both of the others get a feel for the van and see how they managed. Ginny, at least, had driven in Colorado in the winter time. As far as he knew, Charlie had not.

  * * *

  Tuesday Evening

  I-40, headed east

  During the drive from Memphis to Nashville, Ginny entertained them with miscellany about the area, all gathered during her genealogical trips.

  “The Natchez Trace stretches for more than 400 miles and is approximately 10,000 years old. As bison moved up the river, they broke through the forest growth and trampled out a path to the Nashville salt licks. The Chickasaw and Choctaw Indians used the Trace as a trade route and the white man followed.

  “Franklin, TX is named for Franklin, TN, because many of the early settlers in Texas came from Nashville. Robertson Colony was founded by the Nashville Company and stretched all the way from modern Austin to the Red River.

  “One of Nashville’s curiosities is the full-sized replica of the Parthenon located in the middle of town. The structure and decorations are believed to be very close to the way the original Parthenon would have appeared. The statue of Athena is terrifying.”

  “How do you remember all this stuff?” Jim wanted to know.

  “I’ve visited and it helps to have family connections. You might be surprised at how many Scots made American history.”

  “Don’t bet on that. My parents went to a lot of trouble to make sure I knew what the Scots have done for the world.”

  Charlie peered out at the approaching city. “Do you have directions to the Cumberland Homestead? We’re getting close.”

  Jim pulled out the instructions. “From I-40, take exit 188, turn left, under the highway. Follow the signs to TN-249 then turn right on E. Kingston Springs Rd toward the Cheatham Wildlife Management Area, then follow the signs to the Homestead. Three miles.”

  Ten minutes later Ginny sang out. “There.”

  Charlie turned north on a paved road that was suddenly only one lane in each direction, without lights or shoulders. It took another twenty minutes to find the turn off to the Homestead, then ten minutes to the front gate.

  The guard admitted them and pointed out a series of picturesque cottages along the front drive that turned out to be Bed & Breakfast establishments, with all the amenities necessary for tourists. They pulled up as instructed and the three of them got out, realizing it was close to eleven p.m. The door opened as they approached.

  “Come in! Come in! We’ve been expecting you. Hard day was it?” The well-upholstered woman who greeted them gave them no chance to linger, hustling them into the front room, plying them with hot milk, seeing their luggage taken to their rooms, arranging for a breakfast wake-up call, and in general tucking them in for the night as fast as possible. Jim was not sorry. He made sure the car was locked, brushed his teeth, then fell into bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  Wednesday Morning

  Nashville, TN

  Early the next morning, Jim hoisted his bag over his shoulder and went to collect Ginny. “If you aren’t downstairs in ten minutes I’m coming to get you,” he threatened. “Charlie and I will meet you in the dining room.”

  The two men settled down to enjoy the breakfast buffet and Jim took the time to get coffee for Ginny, then, when she still hadn’t surfaced, a plate with eggs, bacon, and slices of tomato (the state fruit).

  He had his eye on his watch and was just deciding he would have to carry her bodily out to the car when she slipped into the room. The Matron approached their table with a fresh pot of hot coffee and Jim rose to greet her.

  “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for your hospitality last night. I’m afraid we were dead on our feet.”

  She smiled at him, cocking her head to one side. “You’ll be the Mackenzie’s boy.”

  Jim blinked in surprise. “I am. How did you know?”

  “Angus was best man at our wedding. Angus, Jr., I mean.”

  Jim smiled. He was the fourth of that name.

  “You look like him.”

  “So I’m told.”

  “Is there anything else I can get you? I know you want to hit the road as quickly as possible.”

  “Could we get some of your excellent coffee to go?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

  Jim turned to the table to find Ginny’s eyes on him, a Texas souvenir in her hand.

  “Give her this, please.”

  The Matron returned promptly with three paper coffee cups. “You can add the sugar and cream here, then put the l
ids on and take them with you in the car.”

  “God bless you, ma’am!” Jim produced the gift and watched her eyes light up. “We would be so pleased if you would accept this small token of our gratitude for your kindness.” He handed over the Texas-sized shot glass, a tumbler designed to hold sixteen ounces. “I wish I could fill it, but I know you make excellent whisky in Tennessee and will not have a problem finding something to put in it.”

  She laughed, delighted with the joke. “Thank you! Please give Angus my love when you see him.”

  Jim found himself suddenly at a loss. He didn’t know the woman’s name. Ginny came to the rescue, holding out her hand.

  “This has been delightful, Mrs. Montgomery. Thank you, for everything.”

  “You’re very welcome, my dear. I hope we have the pleasure of seeing you again some time.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  They took their leave, fixed the coffees, gathered up their belongings, and made their way out onto the street.

  Jim was fiddling with the car remote, his head down against the cold wind and did not see Charlie pull open the side door on the van, then freeze. He walked right into him.

  “Hey!” He looked up, starting to protest, then saw what the problem was. Ginny stepped up beside him, reaching for the passenger side front door, but Jim put his arm out to stop her, then pushed her behind him.

  “Get in. Quietly.”

  The stranger held what looked like a .45 automatic, trained on Charlie’s chest, his eyes darting between the two men. “Let the lady get in first.”

  Jim swallowed hard. “Let her get up front.”

  “No. She rides with me, to make sure you two behave.”

  Jim could feel Ginny pressed up against his back. She peeked around his shoulder, took in the situation, then stepped out from behind him without a word, moving toward the back seat.

  “Good girl. Now come sit beside me.”

  The muzzle of the gun wavered between Jim’s chest and Charlie’s, the stranger unsure which of them was the more important target for his purposes. Ginny climbed in and settled down where he indicated.

  “May I drink my coffee?” she asked.

  “Got some for me?” She handed the cup over and he tasted it. “Perfect.”

  He focused his eyes on the two men. “Get in. You look conspicuous standing there.”

  Charlie handed his bag to Ginny. “I’m going to get into the driver’s seat,” he said.

  The stranger nodded. “And you,” he indicated Jim, “can get into the suicide seat. Just you remember, the both of you, if you try anything, she’s the first to die.” He waved them toward the front of the car, then placed the gun to Ginny’s temple.

  Jim felt his blood turn to ice. He moved carefully to comply with the demand, climbing into the passenger side seat and closing the door.

  “You.” The stranger indicated Ginny. “Close the door. Then come back over here.”

  She did as told.

  “All right. We’re going to drive out of here just like nothing is wrong. Got it?”

  Jim nodded to Charlie, who started the engine and pulled away from the curb. They drove out of the Homestead without being stopped, just waved through by the guard on the gate.

  “Where are we headed?” Jim asked.

  “Highway 40, east.”

  If the hijacker took them too far out of their way, they’d have to find someplace else to stay tonight, always assuming they were still alive when night fell, but there was no reason to share their plans with him. Ginny had checked in with her mother last night. They could be dead and dumped long before anyone had the slightest idea there was a problem.

  Jim surreptitiously studied their extra passenger. His clothes were nondescript: dark blue sweats, running shoes, a black jacket appropriate to the weather. He was wearing a knitted cap that said ‘Virginia is for Lovers’ on it. No glasses, no jewelry. At least one tattoo, partially visible on the left side of his neck. Nothing, other than the gun, to indicate this was not just another law-abiding citizen.

  He had lowered the gun to chest level. It was no longer pushed up against the side of Ginny’s head. That was good. But it was still aimed at her. Jim licked dry lips, then half-turned in his seat so he could talk to the hijacker.

  “How can we help you?” he asked.

  The stranger met his eyes. “Just do what I tell you to and no one will get hurt.”

  Jim wished he could believe that. It had been decades since someone willing to take hostages had also been willing to let them go.

  Jim took a slow, deep breath. They could not go to the police. Not with Charlie in the car.

  “How did you get in?” he asked.

  “Over the fence.”

  “And into the van?”

  Ginny answered that one. “He slid a wire inside the insulation and pushed the unlock button.”

  The hijacker nodded, grinning. “Smart girl.”

  “Why didn’t you just steal the van?” she asked.

  “I was going to, but by the time I got in, the guard had locked the gates.”

  “Why this vehicle?” Jim asked.

  “Covered windows and Texas plates. The sleeping bag was a nice surprise.”

  “I take it you don’t want us stopping in Nashville for gas.” Jim’s voice sounded a lot calmer than he felt.

  “No. How much have you got in the tank?”

  Jim looked over at Charlie, who glanced down at the gauge. “About half a tank.” He looked over at Jim. “It will probably get us to Knoxville, but no farther.”

  “Okay.” The stranger stretched his legs out on the air mattress, his eyes settling on Ginny.

  Jim followed his gaze. She was sitting with her eyes on the floor, her jacket pulled tight across her chest, her chin buried in her muffler.

  “Are you cold, darlin’?” the stranger asked her.

  She nodded without looking at him.

  “I could warm you up.”

  Jim felt his whole body tense. There was no way he was going to let this bastard touch Ginny.

  She shifted slightly, turning to face the intruder. “No, thank you.”

  Jim was thinking furiously. Both he and Ginny were armed, but the weapons had been secured before they left the car last night, to make sure Charlie didn’t have access to them. Jim had carried the pistol cases in with him, then into his room. They were in the overnight bag under his feet, unloaded, useless.

  There was a rifle, too, but it was even more useless, secured in the locked and tethered traveling case required by law. The handgun licenses he and Ginny carried were civilian version, not law enforcement, so the guns were there to deal with any marauding predator they might expect to encounter in the winter wilderness. It hadn’t occurred to Jim that the predator might have two legs.

  Charlie glanced up at the sky, then over at Jim. “Did you get a weather report before we left? Looks like there’s a front moving in.”

  Jim looked back at the hijacker. “Is it all right if I look up the weather?”

  He frowned. “No phones. Hand them over, all of them.”

  Jim and Ginny did as instructed.

  “Where’s the other?”

  “I don’t have one,” Charlie volunteered.

  “I don’t believe you. Hand it over.”

  “It’s true. I ditched it.”

  The stranger’s eyebrows rose. “Ditched?”

  Charlie nodded. “I’m a fugitive, running from the law.”

  The stranger’s eyebrows rose all the way to his hairline. “You shittin’ me?” He looked at Jim.

  Jim shook his head. “It’s true.”

  “What did you do, man?”

  “I killed someone.”

  “Why?”

  “He killed my family.”

  “Wow. Good job, man!”

  “What about the radio? Can we use that to pick up a weather report?” Charlie glanced in the rearview mirror.

  The stranger peered out the window, looking
up at the gathering clouds. “Okay.”

  Charlie reached over and the radio sprang to life. Country and Western music. Well, it was Tennessee. Charlie twisted the knob. A sermon, a fairly common occurrence in the Bible Belt. He tried again.

  “—accident at the 24/41 interchange. Traffic is backed up for five miles. Weather report for this February Hump Day includes a new front moving down from Canada. This one may bring us up to two inches of snow. Temperatures are expected to stay at or just above the freezing mark so be careful on bridges and overpasses.

  “BREAKING NEWS: The incident last night at the Riverbend Maximum Security Prison has detractors calling for the warden’s resignation. Sheriffs’ deputies have mounted a massive manhunt for the three escaped convicts. Citizens are reminded to use caution if approached by a stranger and not to give lifts to anyone who appears to be stranded on the highway. The three convicts are identified as—”

  “Shut that off!”

  There was sudden silence in the car. Jim saw Charlie glance in the rearview mirror, then put his eyes back on the road. Ginny’s head had snapped around to look at the stranger, but as Jim watched, she dropped her eyes to the floor again, carefully showing no interest. Jim, on the other hand, met the stranger’s gaze. He shrugged.

  “We don’t care. We’ll take you anywhere you want to go, then forget we ever saw you, as long as you agree to do the same.”

  * * *

  Chapter 16

  Wednesday Morning

  I-40, headed east

  The trip from Nashville to Knoxville was nerve wracking. Jim spent the entire time with his eyes on the intruder, his brain in overdrive.

  Charlie and the convict had struck up a desultory conversation on the subject of murder. Charlie explained how he had brought a body onto the grounds of the loch and hidden it in the Viking ship. He’d had to take up some of the floorboards, tuck the body underneath, move ballast to compensate, then put the boards back in place. It was the first time Jim had heard the particulars of that crime and, by the look on her face, the same was true for Ginny.

  Jim was increasingly impressed with Charlie Monroe. He hadn’t had a drink since entering the hospital. His mind was clear and Jim wasn’t at all sure Charlie wasn’t controlling the conversation, in spite of his laid back manner. He let the intruder brag and expressed appropriate respect for the professional’s expertise.