Read Spartan Gold for Free Online Page B

to mind chilled him. What Ted’s abductor had planned for him was unknown but one thing seemed certain: The man wanted privacy. Or a place to leave a body. Or both. Sam felt his heartbeat quicken.
    “We can cover more ground if we split up,” Remi suggested.
    “Forget it. We don’t know who this guy is or what he’s capable of.”
    He was about to step out from the trees, when an idea formed in his head. A Buick Lucerne. Buick . . . GMC. He pulled Remi back into cover and said, “Wait here, be right back.”
    “What—”
    “Just stay put. I’m not going far.”
    He took one last look around, watching for the slightest movement, then, seeing nothing, dashed out and headed for the Lucerne. He reached the driver’s-side door, crouched down, then said a quick prayer and tried the door handle. It clicked open. The dome light popped on. He clicked the door shut again.
    Damn! At least there was no “keys in the ignition” chime.
    Nothing to do but risk it.
    Sam opened the door, slid inside, shut the door behind him, then waited for thirty seconds, occasionally peeking over the dashboard. Nothing was moving. He began looking around the car’s interior and found what he was looking for almost immediately. Set into a panel on the dashboard was a button labeled ONSTAR. Sam pushed it. Twenty seconds passed, then a voice came over the radio speakers.
    “This is Dennis at OnStar, how may I assist you?”
    “Uh, yeah.” Sam grunted. “I’ve been in a crash. I’m hurt. I need help.”
    “Sir, do you know your location?”
    “Uh . . . no.”
    “Stand by, sir.” Five seconds passed. “All right, sir, I have your location near Black Road, west of Princess Anne in Maryland.”
    “Yeah, that sounds right.”
    “I’ve alerted the 911 dispatcher in your area. Help is on the way.”
    “How long?” Sam croaked, doing his best injured-driver impression.
    “Six to seven minutes, sir. I’ll stay with you. . . .”
    But Sam was already moving, slipping back out of the car and shutting the door behind him. Using his pocketknife he punched a hole in the left rear tire’s valve stem. He then crawled around to the opposite side, repeated the process on the other tire, then sprinted back to the trees and rejoined Remi.
    “OnStar?” Remi asked with a smile.
    Sam kissed her on the cheek. “Great minds.”
    “How long until the cavalry arrives?”
    “Six, seven minutes. It’d be great if we were gone before then. I’m not in a question-and-answer mood.”
    “Me neither. I’m in a warm brandy mood.”
    “Ready for a little hide-and-seek?”
    “Lead on.”

    They had little hope of following any footprints in the mud so he and Remi dashed across the clearing and began picking their way through the paths and tunnels formed by the boiler graveyard. Sam found two pieces of rebar and gave the shorter one to Remi and kept the longer one for himself. They’d gotten only fifty feet or so when they heard a faint voice through the falling rain.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about . . . what piece?”
    It was Ted.
    A male voice said something in return, but neither Sam nor Remi could make out the words.
    “That thing? It was a piece of a bottle. Nothing important.”
    Sam turned his head, trying to catch the sound and narrow in on where it was coming from. Using hand gestures, Sam pointed ahead and to the left, under an arch formed by a boiler that had half collapsed against its neighbor. She nodded. Once they were through the arch the voices became more distinct.
    “I want you to tell me exactly where you found it,” the unidentified man was saying. The voice was accented, either eastern European or Russian.
    “I told you, I don’t remember. It was somewhere on the river.”
    “The Pocomoke River?”
    “Right,” Ted replied.
    “Where?”
    “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand what—”
    There was a slapping sound, something hard striking flesh. Ted grunted, followed by a splash as he obviously fell