Vendetta by Fern Michaels

frost on the ground crunched underneath the trio’s feet as they made their way through the fragrant pine forest. The pungent scent was thick and heady. Jack could feel his sinuses starting to clog up. He looked down at his watch and then at Mark and Cyrus Conway. Both were giving him the evil eye. Right now both men hated him and he knew it.
    Mark stomped his feet and rubbed his hands together. “This sucks, Jack! The last time I was out this early in a forest I was ten years old and in the Boy Scouts. How long is this going to take?”
    “I think it’s going to snow. It looks like snow. It even feels like snow,” Conway said.
    “Shut up, Cyrus. We’re paying you double time to be here. Commune with nature. Be happy. Think about what you’re going to do with all that overtime money. It’s going to take as long as it takes.” Jack lowered the high-powered binoculars. “The trainer is loading the dogs in the van. As soon as I vault the fence, I’ll race over to the house, turn off the gates and you guys just hop over. Remember, time is crucial here. That guy is going to be sitting down at the end of the road waiting to see if anything happens. Don’t even ask how I know this; I just do. Besides, it’s what I would do if I was in his place. Where’s the damn pole?”
    Mark handed over a long bamboo pole and Jack vaulted the chain-link fence with ease.
    “Show off,” Mark mumbled as he tossed Jack’s knapsack over the fence. Jack picked it up and sprinted toward the farmhouse. Within seconds the fence fizzled into safety mode. Within minutes, Mark and Cyrus were standing next to him just as he deactivated the alarm system in the house.
    “Let’s not waste any time. Come on, I want to show you where I saw that button. It’s right there, on the fireplace. You know what else, I forgot to check the messages on the answering machine. Cyrus, you check the messages, but don’t erase any of them. The machine is in the library. C’mon, Mark, you need to see this.”
    Both men were on their knees looking at a small brass button imbedded in the carved rosette on the fireplace molding. Mark snapped the Polaroid and a blank picture shot out of the camera just as Conway burst through the door.
    “That guy with the dogs is back and there’s a limousine coming up the driveway. I could see from the window. I thought you said he was going to sit at the end of the driveway. He ain’t sitting, Jack. He’s here and he’s got those damn dogs with him. C’mon, we have to get out of here!”
    “Oh, shit!” Mark said as he raced to the kitchen. “We can’t go out this way, they’ll see us. You got a minute, maybe two before they figure out something’s wrong with the gates. Say something, Jack, or I’m going to kill you right now!”
    Jack ran to the laundry room and fished out some pantyhose that he’d seen lying around when he was disarming the alarm system. “I can’t believe how clever I am sometimes!” He took out his pocket knife and cut the pantyhose into pieces. “Put these on your head and run like hell! We have a few minutes. C’mon, c’mon, you waiting for a bus or what? Do as I told you. OK, now run like those dogs have you in their sights, which they do. Jesus, will you listen to them! Go! Go! Go!” Jack bellowed.
    The trio raced across the yard, down to the old barn and over the chain-link fence. They toppled over one another and then were up and running again. They could hear the dogs’ shrill barks and howls coming from the house.
    They sprinted to their cars and pulled out on to the road just as a string of patrol cars, sirens wailing, roared down the highway.
    Mark wiped sweat from his forehead. “Tell me again what we accomplished, Jack. Because they are going to be the last words you ever utter. I’m killing you as soon as we get home.”
    Jack ignored him. “Where’s Conway?”
    “Two cars ahead of us. Can’t you go any faster, Jack? The cops passed us; let ’er rip. I feel like a