by Laura Scott
She frowned. “But I thought they asked you to infiltrate a possible terrorist cell? Couldn’t you use that somehow as a reason to find out?”
He’d considered that approach but wasn’t convinced it would work. “I’ll go there if I need to. Right now, I’d rather concentrate on finding other possible locations where they might be holding Bryn. The foghorn is the only clue we have, we need to keep working from that angle.”
“It feels like this is taking too long.” Diana whispered. “We should have another clue by now.”
He didn’t argue because she was right. They needed something, anything to go on besides the sound of a foghorn.
He glanced at the rearview mirror, his gut tightening when he saw the pair of square-shaped headlights maintaining a three to four car-length distance behind him. He told himself there was no reason to panic, but he wasn’t driving all that fast, staying in the right-hand lane, so why wasn’t the vehicle behind him moving over to pass him?
Jordan pushed his foot down on the accelerator, picking up speed. If the car was being driven by someone who wasn’t in a hurry, he’d leave them in the dust.
The square headlights kept pace.
Not good. He tightened his grip on the wheel, wondering how on earth he could have picked up a tail.
He pulled out his phone and handed it to Diana. “Call Sun, ask where she’s at.”
Diana did as he requested, placing the call on speaker so he could hear.
“Yes?” Sun asked.
“Are you behind me?” Jordan asked bluntly.
“No, I left before you did, so I’m probably ahead of you. Why?”
His chest tightened as he glanced once again at his rearview mirror. “I’ve picked up a tail.”
Diana sucked in a harsh breath and swiveled in her seat to peer out the back window. “How is that possible?” Sun asked.
“I don’t know. But I need to shake him loose.”
“In your grandmother’s car?” Sun’s tone held a note of sarcasm, and he hated knowing she had a point. The old Buick wasn’t built for speed. “Where are you?”
“Heading west on Highway 50 coming up on Interstate 301.”
“I’m already there. I’m taking the on-ramp to head south. Follow me, I’ll stay in touch.” Sun disconnected from the line.
A stoplight up ahead turned red. Jordan slowed down, looked both ways, then gunned the engine and ran the light.
The square headlights did the same.
They were in trouble. Deep trouble. Jordan pushed the old Buick as fast as he dared as he estimated the distance to the on-ramp.
“Jordan? What if they catch us?” Diana asked, her fingers digging into the armrest.
“They won’t. I need you to hang on.” The markers along the side of the highway flashed past, and then he saw the blue sign for the interstate. Again, blowing through another red light, he abruptly wrenched the wheel and sped up and onto the interstate.
For a moment, there were no headlights behind him. His phone rang, and Diana pressed the talk button.
“Take the first exit off the interstate. I’m here, waiting for you. We’ll sandwich this guy between us.”
“Got it.” Cars flew past him, the Buick was so not a race car, but that didn’t matter. The exit loomed, and he did his best to stay on the road. Sun’s black SUV was sitting off to the side of the road. He slowed his speed and continued past her.
The square headlights showed up a heartbeat later. He couldn’t see anything behind the headlights following him and had to trust that Sun was doing her part. His hands were so tight on the steering wheel that the tips of his fingers went numb.
Putting himself in danger was part of his job. Something he did often and without complaint. But Diana was sitting beside him. The mother of his child.
The woman he’d once loved. The woman he’d thought had betrayed him.
Despite the fact that he still wasn’t absolutely sure she hadn’t betrayed him, he refused to let anything happen to her. Or to him, because if that was the case, Bryn was dead.
The square lights got closer, then suddenly hit him from behind with such force that his head jerked forward. The old Buick swerved under the impact, but since it was as big as a boat, he was thankfully able to keep it on the road.
Another bone-jarring hit. He sent up a silent prayer as he struggled to keep the Buick on the road, then the square lights vanished, the vehicle behind him, careening out of control, going over the shoulder of the road and coming to a stop.
He belatedly realized Sun must have been the one hitting square lights from behind with enough force for that vehicle to hit him. He hit the brakes, bringing the Buick to a halting stop. Pulling his weapon from its holster, he pushed open the driver’s side door. “Stay here.”
Without waiting for Diana to respond, he eased along the back of the Buick, his gaze fixed on the vehicle in the ditch. The square headlights were directly in his face, hampering his ability to see.
The sound of two sharp gunshots had him dropping to his knees, his heart hammering in his chest. Where was Sun?
He waited, despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to move. To do something.
Then more gunfire as a dark shadow came tumbling from the driver’s side door. He reacted instinctively, firing at the driver who was shooting at him.
The shadow went down and didn’t move.
Still, he waited. There could be others in the vehicle.
After another five minutes, he made a quick run for it, heading straight for the passenger side of the vehicle. Another shadow moved. He lifted his weapon, then lowered it.
Sun.
“The vehicle is clear,” she whispered. “Driver’s down, bleeding bad and unconscious.”
He battled a wave of frustration. “That’s not good, we need information from him.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but he shot at both of us, so we had no choice but to return fire.” Sun’s expression reflected her dismay. “I know we didn’t intend to kill him.”
He blew out a breath. “Let’s see what we can find on him or in the car.”
The driver was of Arab decent, but there was nothing in his pockets or in the vehicle. There was a disposable phone, which Jordan picked up but didn’t expect to get much information from.
“Let’s get out of here.” Sun put a hand on his arm. “You and Diana need to come with me. Your vehicle has been compromised.”
“I know.” Jordan hurried back to the Buick to get Diana. What he didn’t know was how they’d been found and who was after them?
* * *
September 10 – 12:37 a.m. – Baltimore, MD
Meira couldn’t rest. Couldn’t stop thinking of what Bryn had said.
My mother can help you start over, like she helped so many others.
Elam hadn’t contacted her in days, and she very much feared he might be dead. There was no limit to what these men would do to get what they wanted.
She bowed her head and silently prayed. Elam had embraced Christianity, but it was difficult for her to give up the way she’d been taught. And privately she thought his God and Allah were one and the same.
She prayed for wisdom and guidance. Was the child right? Were these men going to kill her despite their promises? Sliding her hand in the deep pocket of her cloak, she fingered the two plastic spoons she’d hidden there. Both had been sharpened as best she could by rubbing the edges against the rough concrete.
Yet they were flimsy. Plastic. Not close to being lethal enough to use in an escape attempt.
We must go. Soon. Tonight, the child’s voice echoed in her mind.
Yet she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t risk the life of her unborn child in an attempt to escape that was surely doomed.
Elam, my love. Where are you? Why haven’t you come for me? What is going on?
Bryn made a soft sobbing sound. Her heart ached for the girl.
Meira fingered the crudely sharpened plastic spoons again, then rose to he
r feet. Moving quietly, knowing the cameras were always there, watching over them, she bent over Bryn.
“Shh, it’s okay. You have nothing to fear. Allah is here.” She said the words loud enough for the microphones located near the cameras to pick up.
“I want my mommy,” Bryn sobbed.
“Shh. It’s okay.” Meira took one of the plastic spoons from her pocket and pressed it into Bryn’s hand. “I’m here for you, fatat saghira.” Little girl.
Bryn stopped crying the moment she realized the plastic spoon was a potential weapon.
“Sleep now, I’m here for you. Everything will be all right.”
“Thank you,” Bryn whispered.
Meira placed a finger over the child’s lips, indicating she shouldn’t say anything more. Bryn nodded as if understanding.
Meira moved away, turning various possibilities over and over in her mind.
If Elam didn’t return soon, escape may well be their only option.
* * *
September 10 – 12:43 a.m. – Mitchellville, MD
Diana sat on the edge of the motel room bed, twisting her fingers together to keep herself from falling apart.
Someone had come after them. Had tried to kill them.
It didn’t make any sense. The demand was for Jordan to free Mustaf. Why try to harm him before he’d accomplished his task?
Jordan and Sun were both logged into their respective satellite computers, making her feel useless.
“I’d like to do something to help,” she said.
Jordan glanced at her. “I know, but you need to let us work for a bit. Just hang tight, okay?”
She blew out a breath. As if she had a choice?
“The car was reported stolen a little over two hours ago,” Sun said.
“From where?” Jordan asked.
“Washington, DC.” Sun tapped the screen. “The suburb of Walker Mill.”
Diana stood and crossed over to look at the computer. She frowned. “That’s not far from here.”
“No, it’s not. And the two-hour timeframe from the time the vehicle was stolen and you guys picking up the tail is interesting too.” Sun looked up at her. “It feels a bit, I don’t know, amateurish.”
“No ID, money, or other identifiers on the driver or within the vehicle doesn’t match that theory,” Jordan pointed out. “It’s more along the lines of a professional.”
“Maybe.” Sun didn’t sound convinced. “I wish we could figure out how they found you.”
“I wish I knew who they were,” Jordan countered. “I mean, I was assigned to infiltrate an Islamic terrorist cell by Yates, who is heading up the multiagency task force. Bryn’s kidnappers want me to find and free Mustaf. Makes no sense that any of them would want to kill me.”
“I agree,” Diana chimed in. Out of nowhere, her phone vibrated. When she glanced down, there was an unknown number reflected on the screen. The only calls she’d gotten on this phone was from her WITSEC handler or the kidnappers, who always used a blocked number.
“Who’s calling you?” Jordan’s gaze drilled into hers.
“I don’t know, it’s a number I don’t know.” The phone continued to buzz.
“Is that your personal cell?” Jordan’s expression turned grim.
“Yes, it’s also the phone the kidnappers used, so I didn’t dare get rid of it.”
“I don’t like it,” Jordan muttered darkly. “Answer it.”
She quickly pressed the button to answer. “Yes?”
“Is this Deborah Martin?” a male voice asked.
She glanced at Jordan, wondering if he remembered that the name she was now living under was Deborah Martin. “Who is this?”
“I need to speak to Deborah Martin about a beach rental.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “Beach rental” was the secret phrase provided to her by the US Marshals. But this wasn’t Chris’s number. “I might have a place, depends on who is interested.”
“Deborah, this is US Marshal Frank Carlson. I’m sorry to inform you that US Marshal Christopher Wallace is dead.”
Dead? She reached out to grip Jordan’s shoulder to prevent herself from collapsing to the floor. First Bryn, then being followed and shot at, and now this. “When?”
“His body was discovered at the bottom of a ravine in the Smoky Mountains. We can’t be certain yet if this was an accident or murder.” There was a pause as he added, “I’ve been assigned as your new handler, and I need you and your daughter to come in ASAP. I’m afraid your identity has been compromised.”
Chapter Nine
September 10 – 1:03 a.m. – Washington, DC
The ringing of his burner phone pulled him from sleep. Scowling, he grabbed the device and hissed, “This better be good.”
A long silence before his man cleared his throat. “It’s not. The professional failed to execute as ordered and was found dead along the side of the road from a couple of gunshot wounds, one to the chest, the other a head shot.”
He tightened his grip on the device. “There better be no way to trace him to us.”
“Of course not, and your plan B is still in play. We believe we’ll get her location very soon.”
He muttered a vile curse. “You must deliver by the deadline. There’s a lot riding on this.”
“Yes, sir.” The guy clicked off.
He rose and stalked over to the window, looking over at the top of the White House easily seen off in the distance. It was a symbol of everything he detested yet longed for. It was so close yet remained far out of reach.
Because of the incompetence surrounding him. He closed his fingers into a fist and tried to wrestle his red-hot fury under control.
After several deep breaths, he unclenched his hands and forced himself to relax.
This was just a minor setback. There was still time. He’d have what he wanted, no matter what the cost.
However, if the situation didn’t improve—and soon—he’d have to find someone more capable than his current contact.
It shouldn’t be this difficult to find them.
* * *
September 10 – 1:07 a.m. – Mitchellville, MD
Jordan was close enough to hear the conversation between Diana and the US Marshal. She was clearly reeling from the death of her handler and was quizzing the guy for more information. In turn, the new handler kept repeating how she needed to come in for protection.
Jordan shook his head and made a slicing motion with his hand, indicating she needed to end the call.
Her eyes were wide with distress. She must have been on the same page as he was because she quickly interrupted Frank Carlson. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll be in touch, later.”
“Wait—” he protested, but Diana didn’t hesitate to disconnect the call. The phone immediately vibrated again, and she quickly shut it off.
“We should go,” Sun said. “That was long enough for a trace.”
Jordan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. She was right. “Yeah, okay. Let’s pack up. Oh, and Diana? Keep the number the Marshal used to call you, just in case we need to reach out to him, but lose the phone.”
“What do you mean, ‘lose the phone’? What if the kidnappers need to get in touch with me?”
“They know we’re together and have used several email accounts to reach me.” Jordan met her worried gaze. “Trust me, they’ll find a way.”
“Why would the US Marshals trace the call?” Diana protested. “They’re supposed to protect those in the program, not track them down like criminals. Not to mention, participation in WITSEC is always voluntary.”
“It’s possible the US Marshals are working with someone in the government,” Jordan explained as he packed up his satellite computer.
“Yes, of course they are, they work with the Department of Justice.”
“I mean someone else, maybe even someone on the task force. You heard what he said, they’re not sure if Wallace’s fall into the ravine was an accident or murd
er. Was he the type of guy who liked to hike in the mountains?”
There was a slight hesitation before she said, “I don’t know.”
“We’ll find out the truth from the ME’s office eventually, but I’m leaning toward murder. For your sake, and Bryn’s, we can’t afford to assume everything is legit.”
“I don’t understand.” Diana rubbed her hands over her arms as if chilled to the bone. “None of this is making any sense.”
He couldn’t argue. “Let’s hit the road, find a new place to stay, and try to think things through. Leave your phone here.”
“Where are we going? I thought this was the ideal place for us because it was centrally located.”
“It was, but we’ll find something.” He hoped. He glanced at Sun. “Ideas?”
Sun had her satellite computer packed up too. She nodded. “I think we should try Edgewater. It’s farther from DC, but still coastal.”
He didn’t like being farther from DC, but he trusted Sun’s instincts. They were functioning better than his at the moment. “Okay, Edgewater. I hope they have a place we can go without showing ID.”
“I’m sure we’ll find a way,” Sun said as they headed back out to the parking lot. “Offering money usually works.”
And made them memorable too, but what choice did they have? First being followed, then the news of the Marshal’s untimely demise.
He held out his hands for the car keys, and Sun dropped them in his palm with a flash of annoyance in her eyes. “I’m a better driver than you are.”
“I need you to help me find a place to stay.” He knew it was chauvinistic to insist on driving, but he couldn’t help himself. The only driver he was comfortable with was Sloan, but he wasn’t here.
“Idiot,” Diana muttered as she slid into the back seat.
“Guilty as charged.” He pulled out of the parking lot, keeping a keen eye on the vehicles behind him as he headed back to the interstate.
Ten minutes later, they were heading east on Highway 50 without any hint of a tail.
