David took her hand. “We’ve got to do it.”
Those soft words shored up her waning courage. “I-I’m not sure I can make it. Leave me here and get help.”
Into her ear, he murmured, “You can do this. I know you can. Look. I’ll climb right behind you.”
She took a deep breath. That helped the pain recede, if only a little.
Jonathan remained in the elevator. “I’ll get going and get that door open from the top.” As if a snake had swallowed him whole, he vanished.
David faced the sheriff. “Monica, go on. We’ll bring up the rear.”
She muttered something Abigail didn’t catch.
Why the jealousy when they were fighting for their lives? Abigail had to stop the growl in her throat.
Without a word, Monica followed Jonathan.
“You ready?” David asked.
Abigail managed a trembling smile. “Or not.”
He squirmed through the doors and offered his hand.
With her good one, she took it. Her arm burned afresh as it bumped the narrow opening the guys had made. A moan escaped her. She raised her head and stared through the escape hatch Jonathan had opened on the top of the elevator. Dust stung her eyes as her brother and Monica made the climb.
She began trembling. Could she make it? How could she if she couldn’t even haul herself up through the hatch?
David formed his hands into a stirrup. “I’ll boost you up.”
She put her foot into it.
“One, two, three!” He thrust her upward.
Abigail reached out. She grabbed the frame with her good hand. Her shins hit the lip. She cried out as she fell to her knees. Her body landed on top of her bad arm. Oh, that hurt. She rolled onto her back as her sides heaved.
David hoisted himself through. He took a knee beside her, then lifted her hand.
Ever so slightly she relaxed.
“You can do this,” he whispered. He caressed her skin with his thumbs. “I’m one step behind. I’ll follow close.”
A trembling smile, one she didn’t understand, began. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
The slightest of smiles crossed his face. “You won’t. We can do this tandem, okay?”
With another shaky breath, she nodded.
“That’s my girl.” He helped her sit up, then stand.
Oh, did she wobble, probably from shock. But she remained upright as she approached the ladder.
“Foot on the rung,” he murmured.
She did.
With her back pressed against him for stability and security, she began her climb. Like a soldier learning how to march, she followed on each of his commands. Left. Right. Her arm screamed at her. She tried to focus on pleasant things, like that Labor Day weekend before, when she woke from a nightmare about the Colonel Boone case. David, his eyes liquid in the darkness, had sat on the edge of the bed, then held her until she fell asleep. She awakened the next morning to find him gone.
New agony jerked her out of her reverie.
They still remained in that infernal tunnel, and she’d frozen on the ladder.
“Three more,” he murmured, and his lips brushed her ear. “On my count. One, two, three, up!”
Breath hissed between her teeth as she repeated the motion twice more.
Strong hands grasped her under the arms and dragged her on her front up from the shaft. Like a broom, she collected a ton of dust and dirt.
“Abigail.” Gently, her brother turned her onto her back.
“I-I’m fine.” And her nose would keep growing like Pinnochio’s if she weren’t careful. With his help, she sat up. Her world swam as her body adjusted to its different orientation. All around them was the four-bay garage she’d noticed when they’d arrived. Now she understood the higher doors. They unloaded the drugs in here, out of the way of prying eyes.
“Can you stand?”
“I’ve got to.” Abigail held out her good hand, and he hauled her to her feet. She stumbled, and David caught her before she fell.
“The park’s not that far away.” He began walking toward the pedestrian door. “We go. Call someone.”
“Who? The cops?” Monica snorted. “In case you forgot, I am the cops.”
“Then the fibbies,” Abigail shot back. Oh, why couldn’t they dump this woman? She’d annoyed her from second one by going all possessive over David when he clearly wasn’t into her.
Monica muttered something under her breath.
If she’d been in better condition... Abigail ground her teeth.
“I’ve got you,” David murmured. He put his hands under her elbows.
As if she’d imbibed too much, Abigail stumbled next to him. The bright midday light seared her retinas. She screwed her eyes closed, and her world swam.
“Oh, no!” Jonathan’s dismay signaled trouble.
Her eyes flew open. She moaned, more from the overwhelming brightness than from seeing the rental car, their only way out, looking like Swiss cheese.
A wry chuckle escaped David. “At least l won’t have to ride in that thing anymore.”
“Good bye, rental contract,” Jonathan muttered. “I guess we’re going to have to walk. It’s how far to the park headquarters?”
“Try five miles.” Monica grimaced. “We’re never going to make it. Not in this heat.”
For once, Abigail agreed with her. The ground began tilting again.
“You will have no worry with that.”
She’d heard that alto voice not five days ago. Oh, so carefully, she swiveled.
Nabeelah stood there, this time dressed in khaki cargo pants and a black T-shirt. Her dark hair hung in a single braid over her shoulder à la Katniss Everdeen from the Hunger Games. Four men, their rifles in a relaxed ready position, stood with her.
Where had they come from?
“We have come to save you,” Nabeelah continued.
Now the ground really tilted. Abigail’s vision began tunneling as David’s hands came around her elbows again.
Her legs gave way.
She slid into darkness.
18
Thursday, April 20, 2017, 1300 hours MDT, outside Burning Tree, UT
Jonathan paced the length of the runway at the deserted airfield of a Delta Force compound deep in the Utahan desert where Nabeelah’s crew hid. The breeze from that morning—an eternity ago in his mind—had freshened until sand bit into his skin. Energy swirled around him. He paused and sniffed. Oh yeah. Like an evil spirit, moisture rode upon the air. On the western horizon, clouds had begun building until they perched, heavy and dark, above the red rock of the distant mesas. Not happy clouds. Angry ones. A storm brewed.
He turned and covered ground toward the lone hangar. Next to it, two helicopters, one a Black Hawk and one a Little Bird, sat covered in camouflage netting. He passed a couple of the pilots, who sat on camp chairs against the hangar’s corrugated metal walls. His nose twitched at the cigar smoke wafting from the tips of their stogies.
“Dude, you wanna take a load off?” one of them called. “You’re making me nervous with your pacing.”
“Sorry.” Jonathan crouched next to them. “It’s been a long day.”
“What a little field trip. We saw the house go down. Man, talk about a waste.”
“Thanks for saving our skins.”
“No problem.” The pilot, a chief warrant officer, yawned. “Sorry. Early morning.”
“You ever have anyone show up here uninvited?”
“Sometimes. They got ‘housekeepers’ here,” the chief warrant officer jabbed his fingers in quotes, “which keeps out any trespassers.”
The pilot rose. “C’mon. Time for siesta.”
Oh, did he ever wish. Jonathan bit back a sigh and followed them down a dusty street of cracked concrete. Dirt devils kicked up, adding grit to the grime coating him from their escape. At the building next to the hangar, a door banged open. Her face a mask of anger, Monica stomped onto the street.
Jonathan froz
e and fervently hoped she hadn’t seen him.
No such luck. Her dark eyes blazing fire, she stopped in front of him. Her chest heaved, and her fists clenched. “I don’t know who these people are or what you’re mixed up in, but apparently, I’m a prisoner now instead of the sheriff.”
Only then did he notice a guard in full combat gear nearby. The man’s eyes remained impassive. “Ma’am, it’s time to—”
“I know what it’s time to do. To get thrown in jail!” With that, she tramped toward a small building across the way.
“Dang, she’s hot,” the pilot murmured.
“But crazy,” his buddy added.
“You can have her.” Jonathan passed the hangar and the command center. Across from that, a door opened to the shower facilities. Now dressed in a clean pair of ACU pants and a T-shirt, David looped a towel around his neck.
Jonathan managed a smile. “I take it they had a guy your size here so you could borrow some clothes?”
“Oh, several.” His friend paused. “You want to take a shower?”
Jonathan shifted his gaze to their quarters, which were two buildings down and across the street. “I’ll wait. Seeing Abigail’s most important right now.” He paused as the two pilots stopped at the building beside the command center. “I could use some coffee, though.”
“Chow’s up if you two want some,” one of them called.
“I don’t want to take a painkiller!” Abigail hollered through the open window of their quarters.
The CWO grinned. “Your sister?”
Jonathan sighed. “I’ll claim her.”
“Seems like she’s quite a handful.”
David chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it.”
The guy laughed.
Jonathan pushed through the door of their quarters.
Across the large, open room, a medic sat on a stool next to the double bed where she lay. A fresh bandage wrapped around her right bicep, close to her shoulder.
Clad in a borrowed set of clean clothes, Abigail glared at him before switching her attention to David and Jonathan. “Thank God you’re here. Tell him I don’t need a painkiller.”
Jonathan fought to keep a straight face. “She needs a painkiller.”
She scowled at him. “Gee, thanks for nothing, dear brother.”
The medic cringed. “You sure she don’t bite?” He faced her again. “Ma’am. It’s only three Vicodin. I’m very aware of your fear of painkillers.”
David grinned. “He could wrap it in peanut butter. I do that when I give Ranger pills.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a dog.”
“It’s better than stuffing it down your throat.”
She glared at him.
“Seriously, ma’am.” As if tossing an angry dog some meat, the medic almost threw a small bottle onto the nightstand and jumped up. “Take one now, one after supper, and then one right before bed. That should get you through the worst of the pain.”
David seated himself on the stool he’d vacated. He took her hand. “I’ll keep an eye on you, okay? If I start seeing you’re getting addicted, I’ll let the doc know.”
“Promise?” she whispered.
“Promise.”
She popped it into her mouth and chased it with some water from a bottle.
A rush of breeze filled the room as Nabeelah joined them. She focused on the medic. “How is she, Sergeant Rothstein?”
“Hello,” Abigail waved, “I’m here. You can talk to me.”
The medic ignored her. “A flesh wound from rock fragments. It’ll take a couple of weeks to heal, but she’ll be fine.”
“Good. Thank you for your work.” Nabeelah nodded toward the door.
He gathered his gear and slipped away.
Nabeelah gazed at the trio for a long moment, then shut the open window and turned on the ceiling fan.
Jonathan cocked his head. “What’s going on?”
She unfolded a camp chair. “We need to talk about what happened today.”
David swiveled on his stool. “Is that why Monica’s staying in a different place?”
“She is not cleared for this.” Nabeelah crossed her legs. “This is way beyond her.” She gestured to the bed David had claimed as his. “Sergeant Jonathan, sit. Please.”
He eased onto the mattress and rested his elbows on his knees.
For a moment, Nabeelah ran her hands down her braid as if the motion helped her frame her thoughts. “I have some good news and some bad news.”
Jonathan winced. “What’s the bad news?”
“Sergeant David, your actions today have placed your sister in great danger.”
Jonathan sucked in a breath. Kyra. If someone found out they’d survived, the perpetrators wouldn’t waste any time going after her. “Where is she—”
“We have watchers near her.”
“But—”
“Did she know where you all were going?”
David shook his head.
“Then we must continue the ruse.” Nabeelah fixed her gaze on Jonathan. “We have retrieved your luggage from the hotel. Both of yours,” she added when Abigail opened her mouth. “The hotel staff is none the wiser. So far as everyone knows, you simply are out for the day exploring.”
How long could that hold?
Abigail tried to sit up, groaned, and eased onto her back. “And the good news?”
Nabeelah cracked a smile. “You are alive.” It widened. “You also discovered one of the biggest caches of gold—and heroin—to date. You have, through the very act of saving yourselves, broken wide open this case I have worked for the past few years.”
Jonathan’s gut tightened. “Shouldn’t Monica hear this? It was in her jurisdiction.”
“This is beyond her, remember? And also the FBI. This is now a DEA/DIA matter.” Nabeelah cocked a delicate eyebrow at him. “Through your investigation, Sergeant Jonathan, and yours as well, Abigail, I have been able to make the connections needed between El Lobo, Jedidiah Stone, and my uncle.”
“How so?” David leaned against the wall so the front two legs of the stool came off the ground.
Nabeelah hopped up and began pacing. “You know my uncle is one of the biggest poppy dealers in Afghanistan, certainly the biggest in Ghazni Province. You know what happened eight years ago.”
Jonathan flinched. For a split second, he stared at Captain’s and Oso’s crumpled forms. “I’ll never be able to forget.”
Nabeelah resumed her seat. “He began dealing with El Lobo around that time as well.”
“Sal,” Abigail whispered. She winced as she shifted onto her left side.
“I am very sure your suspicions are correct.” Nabeelah bent forward. “Starting in 2012, El Lobo traded guns for heroin. At least until last year.”
Jonathan’s jaw tightened. “The Athena file.” Hell had begun for him a little over a year ago. Christine’s sightless eyes beseeched him. Blood dripped down the side of a jeep. He shuddered as sweat popped out on his hands. You’re safe now. Remember that.
Nabeelah straightened. “That file contains everything about me. Where I live. My true name. All of my aliases. And much, much more. When DIA heard of the theft, they knew I was in danger.”
Heat rushed to Jonathan’s cheeks. “Frisco Montero was deep undercover as part of Nicole’s gang.”
Nabeelah leaned against the door. Once more, she ran her hands down her braid as if the motion soothed anxieties from years past. “DIA noticed the theft of weapons between 2006 and 2008. They ceased, then resumed in 2012. After they resumed, DIA assigned the case to me. I ran Frisco as an undercover agent. His work paid off well. We picked up on the heroin going from Afghanistan to the cartels, more specifically to one called Los Jaguares. Does that sound familiar?”
“Why should it?” David asked.
“Sal Torres has extended family across the border that we suspect is Los Jaguares, one of the worst cartels in Mexico.”
David rubbed his bearded chin. He rose and
peered out the window with his arms folded across his chest. “When Jonathan stole the drive, things came apart.”
“For El Lobo, better known as Sal Torres, yes.” Nabeelah nodded as if praising a student. “My uncle switched his loyalties to Jedidiah Stone.”
Jonathan paced and ran his hands through his hair. “Sal Torres stole the file, right? Abigail, that’s what you told me.”
A soft snore answered him.
A bead of drool slipped from the corner of her mouth.
David returned to the stool and pulled an Army blanket over her. “She’s out.”
Nabeelah drifted to the window and peered outside. “We suspect he did, as Abigail is discovering.”
Jonathan shuddered as he thought about his conversation with his sister the night before. “The man’s a monster.”
“I do not disagree with you, Sergeant Jonathan.”
More sweat moistened his brow as he envisioned Abigail with no hands or eyes. The thought made him want to throw his body over hers. He began shaking his head. “I-she can’t go on with this. Why don’t you arrest Sal?”
As if agreeing with him, the light faded from the sky.
Nabeelah folded her arms across her chest. “We do not have the evidence needed for a prosecution.”
“You don’t need it.”
Nabeelah cocked her head. “He has plenty of benefactors in the Army and is on the track to receive a promotion to colonel this year and his first star soon after. We also know several people have designs on him to go into the power corridors of Washington. If we do not have the right evidence for a prosecution, you know what will happen.”
Los Jaguares would have someone in a powerful position. And if Sal ran free now, he’d exact retribution against everyone. Abigail. Him. David. Kyra. The children. Even David’s parents. They were backed into a corner. He ground his teeth. “You’re sure Kyra and the kids are safe?”
Nabeelah took his hands. “Their best defense right now is ignorance on the part of the cartels. So long as Los Jaguares thinks you’re dead, they will not pursue you—or them. Which is why you must remain hidden.”
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