Target For Ransom

by Laura Scott

  Grimly, he realized if Diana’s keen eye hadn’t noticed the vehicle, they would have been taken by surprise.

  And possibly killed.

  He should have told her to leave the cell phone at the stupid Walmart. Recognizing Elam and seeing his daughter alive and well for the first time ever had been a distraction.

  He couldn’t afford another.

  Jordan paused alongside a truck, trying to come up with a plan. He was tired of playing defense and relished the thought of taking control of the situation.

  “We move on three,” he told Sun.

  “I’ll take the driver.” A ghost of a smile creased her features.

  He wasn’t about to argue. “One, two, three!”

  Jordan rushed out from behind the truck. Sun was hot on his heels, and she did one of her amazing gymnastic moves, leaping forward, planting her hands on the hood of the moving car, and vaulting over it.

  The driver was so startled he stopped the vehicle. Jordan tried to open the passenger side door, but of course it was locked.

  The passenger lifted his gun, but two seconds too late. Jordan slammed his gun into the window, shattering it, and grabbed the weapon from the surprised passenger’s hand, while at the same time, Sun did the same maneuver on her side.

  Elam must have slit the rear tires because at some level he noted the vehicle sank down a couple of inches. After both men were unarmed, Jordan stepped back from the vehicle.

  “Get out of the car, slowly.”

  The two men glanced at each other, then the driver punched the gas. The vehicle lurched forward, but without speed thanks to the rear tires being flatter than pancakes. As if sensing escape was impossible, the driver hit the brakes, then thumped his fist on the steering wheel in frustration.

  “Get out!” Jordan shouted. They were drawing stares from people nearby, and he lifted his voice so it would carry. “FBI! Get out of the car with your hands up!”

  Technically, he wasn’t FBI anymore, but since he reported to Clarence Yates, he figured that it wouldn’t hurt to fudge a bit.

  The two men emerged from the vehicle. They were dressed in black from head to toe, much like the other guy who’d come after them in Annapolis. Jordan gestured with the nose of his gun. “Inside the motel room, now.”

  The two men reluctantly headed in that direction, but then they abruptly sprang apart, darting off in opposite directions.

  He lifted his gun but hesitated, glancing over at Sun. She had one of the guys in her sights, too, but hadn’t pulled the trigger.

  It went against the grain to let them go, but he didn’t want to leave the vicinity of the motel. Diana, Bryn, and Meira were vulnerable.

  “Let them go,” he said on a sigh.

  “We need to get away from here,” Sun pointed out, gazing at the man who’d disappeared around a corner. “There could be more.”

  “I know.” Jordan glanced at Elam who came up to stand beside him. “But we need a larger vehicle for all of us to fit.”

  “I can secure us a van,” Sun offered. “Give me fifteen minutes and be ready to leave when I return.”

  “Thanks.” Jordan held out his hand for the knife. Elam placed it gently in his palm. “Do you know how to fire a gun?”

  Elam shrugged. “I have but prefer not to.”

  Yeah, frankly he’d prefer not to shoot anyone either, but they needed to be able to defend themselves. “Would you shoot to protect Meira?”

  “Yes,” Elam said without hesitation.

  “I thought so.” Jordan led the way back to the motel room. “We’ll secure another weapon after we get out of here.”

  Elam didn’t argue. “I will be glad to get out of Baltimore,” the younger man said quietly.

  He would to. This time, they’d leave Diana’s cell phone behind, but the technology to track a cell phone wasn’t easy to obtain. He didn’t see the terrorist cell having that ability.

  So who was behind this latest attempt?

  Jordan had no idea but suspected that someone within the multiagency task force Yates had put together was involved.

  He glanced back at the vehicle with its flat rear tires and made a note of the plate number. No doubt he’d find the car had been stolen, but maybe, just maybe, there would be a link back to the government.

  Diana wouldn’t like it, but they needed to head back to DC.

  * * *

  September 10 – 6:12 p.m. – Washington, DC

  “What do you mean you didn’t get them?” Of all the incompetent idiots, the two he’d hired to bring in Rashid, the woman, and the brat took the cake. They’d come highly recommended but were clearly useless.

  “They got the jump on us.”

  “They?” He stared out the window at nothing. “He still has help?”

  “Yes, and the woman looks fragile, but I can assure you she is not.” The man’s voice held a note of bitterness. “Somehow they disabled our car too. It was fortunate we managed to escape, not that we would have told them anything,” he hastened to add.

  “I’m sure.” He resisted the urge to let out a string of curses. “And how did you escape, exactly?”

  “We, uh, took off running. They didn’t shoot at us and didn’t follow either.”

  He narrowed his gaze, thinking that through. Rashid could have easily killed the two idiots, so why hadn’t he? And why not give chase? Take the two morons out, permanently? It’s what he would have done if the situation was reversed.

  Then it dawned on him. Rashid had let them go in an effort to protect the woman and her brat?

  They were likely already on the move, far away from the motel in Baltimore. He wanted to rant and rave in frustration but managed to keep his tone even. “You will finish your assignment or I will finish the two of you. Understand?”

  “Yes, we’re on it.”

  Doubtful, but what could he do? Disconnecting from the line, he returned to his laptop computer, quickly pulling up the last known location of the woman’s phone.

  It remained in the exact same location as an hour ago, the motel in Baltimore.

  Slamming the laptop shut, he whirled away, panic tightening his chest. Those idiots had cost him his best chance at finding them.

  He broke out in a cold sweat. He couldn’t allow Rashid to interfere with his plan. There had to be a way to find him.

  There just had to be!

  * * *

  September 10 – 6:29 p.m. – Washington, DC

  Mustaf awoke to the sound of his nurse entering the room. The soles of her shoes squeaked as she approached the bed. “How are you doing, Ahmed? Are you feeling okay?”

  The casual way she called him by his given name set his teeth on edge, but he did his best to remain polite. “Yes, I am fine.”

  “You haven’t taken much for pain,” she said, her tone lightly scolding. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give you something?”

  “I’m fine,” he repeated, even though he wanted nothing more than to be free of this reverberating pain. But the clock was ticking, and he needed to keep his mind sharp, not foggy with drugs.

  “Okay, but your facial expression tells me you’re hurting very badly.”

  It took considerable effort to smooth his expression. “I am a foreigner in a strange land, I refuse to take any of your narcotics.”

  “You know we’re here to help you,” she said. “With the soldiers outside your doorway, you’re safe here. No one can harm you.”

  Little did she know. His enemies could infiltrate this hospital much the way his people already had.

  He would not be safe until he was out of this place, and far away from the Americans.

  * * *

  September 10 – 6:37 p.m. – Washington, DC

  Yates was startled by the sound of his personal cell phone ringing. Hesitantly, he answered, “Yes?”

  “It’s Rashid. Someone within your task force is out to kill us.”

  “There was an attempt on you and Sun?” Yates let out a sigh. “I h
ave my suspicion about someone being on the take, but no proof. There have been too many coincidences over the past thirty-six hours.”

  “Ya think?” Rashid’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You must suspect someone. I need a name.”

  “One name? Unfortunately, I have several.” Yates didn’t like sharing this kind of intel with Rashid. Oh, he trusted the guy, it wasn’t that, but he hadn’t even confided his suspicions to POTUS.

  “Names,” Rashid repeated. “There have been too many attempts against us already, and the next one could be the last.” There was a pause before he added, “You should know I have Diana Phillips and our daughter Bryn with me now. They were in danger, and well, it’s a long story, I can fill you in later. Right now, I need information. I refuse to let anything happen to them.”

  “Okay, fine.” Yates blew out a breath. “Ben Cunningham and Rick Slater are two members of the task force that I have some concerns with. They are both FBI, but there’s a third guy, Geoff North, who is on loan from NSA. I don’t know much about Geoff, he’s a bit of a wild card. So if you want names, those three are at the top of my list.”

  “Ben Cunningham, Rick Slater, and Geoff North,” Rashid repeated. “No one else?”

  Yates wasn’t used to be questioned. “Don’t you think I want answers as much as you do?” he snapped. “I’m dealing with several murders as it is, first Ray Pallone, then Aaron Cooper. If I knew anything more, I’d take care of it myself!”

  “Who is Aaron Cooper?” Rashid asked, ignoring his outburst.

  Yates scowled. “An administrative assistant here at the FBI. There were witnesses that saw him drinking coffee that was later found to be laced with cyanide.”

  “Not easy to get your hands on cyanide,” Rashid muttered.

  “Exactly. The tox screen is still pending, but the ME has already ruled Cooper’s death a homicide.”

  “No camera footage from the coffee shop?”

  “No, and that is no coincidence either,” Yates said. “Interviews haven’t helped yet either.”

  “I have another question, about FBI Agent Tony Balcome.”

  Yates frowned. “Why do you want to know about him?”

  “I . . . think he’s a potential leak within the department.”

  “Impossible, because he’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Rashid sounded shocked.

  “Crashed his car into a concrete barrier going at a high rate of speed two months ago. To be honest, they’re suspecting suicide, although the investigation is still ongoing.” Yates straightened. “You think Balcome was murdered?”

  “Maybe.” Rashid hesitated, then asked, “Anything else significant going on that I need to know about?”

  “I don’t report to you,” Yates said dryly.

  “No, sir. I report to you, but I can’t help if my hands are tied by a lack of information.”

  Yates hated when Rashid was right. “I’m concerned about Ahmed Mustaf somehow escaping from Washington Hospital.”

  “I’m sure you have him guarded.”

  “Yes, by two airmen from Andrews Air Force Base. They’re taking Mustaf’s being shot rather personally.”

  Rashid grunted. “I can see why. Is the current theory that his brother, Daboor, is the one behind all of these attempts to free him?”

  Yates straightened in his seat. “Yes, why? Do you have a line on that?”

  “Not yet, but it’s one of the angles we’re working on.” Rashid paused, then added, “Okay, thank you. I appreciate the information you’ve shared.”

  “Don’t let me down,” Yates said on a wave of exhaustion. “You and Dryer helped us out a few months ago, we wouldn’t mind another win for the good guys.”

  “Security Specialists, Incorporated will do its best to deliver, thanks.” Rashid disconnected from the call.

  Yates set his phone aside and scrubbed his palms over his face. To have another mole within the task force was disheartening. Balcome may have leaked information in the past, considering Rashid was now protecting Diana and their child. He knew full well the agent had arranged for Diana to be placed into WITSEC, not that he fully understood how they were linked to what was going on.

  Balcome might have talked, but not recently. There had to be someone else.

  Cunningham, Slater, and North.

  Which one had committed treason?

  * * *

  September 10 – 7:03 p.m. – Washington, DC

  Diana shifted in her spot in the back seat with Bryn, already weary of driving. Traffic was bumper to bumper, worse than usual as they approached DC. She glanced over, reassured to note Bryn was sleeping.

  “What is the plan moving forward?” she asked, meeting Jordan’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

  “Sun is getting us a place to stay, a townhouse with two bedrooms, so that we can avoid hotels.”

  “And then what?”

  “We need to figure out where Elam’s explosive devices have been left.”

  “And if we miss some?”

  Jordan’s expression turned grim. “Then innocent people will die.”

  Diana turned to stare out the window. The thought of a terrorist act made her feel sick, yet at the same time, she wanted to turn and run away. She didn’t want Bryn to be anywhere near DC when those bombs were detonated. And even if she and Bryn stayed behind, she had to worry about Jordan. What if he happened to be within the blast zone?

  She couldn’t imagine losing him for a second time. Not now.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to find the man in charge of detonating the bombs?” She’d been turning this problem over and over in her mind during the long drive back to DC. “If we take him out, then none of the devices will go off.”

  “Yes, but at this point, Elam doesn’t know anything about him.”

  “Do you think he’s being honest with us?” She kept her voice low, hoping Bryn was really asleep. She didn’t want her daughter to hear her doubts about her rescuer. Since Sun had been unable to secure a van, they’d ended up in two vehicles. Sun had graciously taken Elam and Meira in her vehicle, leaving the three of them alone.

  Now she wondered about them. She owed Elam and Meira a debt of gratitude, but Elam had to know something.

  “I do.” Jordan’s response came without hesitation. “He did his part in slashing the tires back at the hotel. He could have just as easily doubled back and gotten Meira out of there.”

  “But that’s only because I promised to help them get new identities,” she protested. “Not because he is determined to stop this terrorist attack.”

  “Do you know how I met Elam in the first place?” Jordan asked.

  She shook her head.

  “There’s a church in DC that works with Muslims, teaching them about Christianity. When I first met Elam, he seemed sincerely interested in understanding Christianity and how it compared and contrasted with the teachings of the Quran.”

  “Okay, so how did you know he was your contact, then?”

  “I thought he was faking his Christianity, but after meeting up with him again, I realize he truly believes.”

  She buried a flash of impatience. “That doesn’t make him a saint.”

  “I’ve heard him talk about God and about asking for forgiveness for the bombs he detonated. I get the sense we can trust him.”

  Diana wasn’t convinced. Meira was different. She trusted the pregnant woman who’d cared for Bryn, who’d kept her daughter safe during captivity.

  But she still felt that Elam knew more than he was letting on.

  And for this to be over, they needed all the help they could get.

  * * *

  September 10 – 7:14 p.m. – Washington, DC

  “Are you ready to head down for your MRI scan?”

  With confusion, Mustaf pried open his eyes to look at the man leaning over him. He hadn’t seen this man before, even though he was dressed in hospital scrubs like all the others. And no one from the medical team had said anything about having an MRI scan. H
e opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but the man lifted a finger to his lips.

  “Don’t worry, this won’t take too long.” As he spoke, he disconnected the wires from the three patches on his chest, then proceeded to remove the patches themselves.

  “How long?” He forced the question past his dry throat.

  “Less than an hour.” The man gave a slight shake of his head, silently indicating Mustaf shouldn’t continue talking.

  Mustaf forced himself to relax, although his heart was beating rapidly in his chest. Maybe this was part of the plan to rescue him, but he didn’t understand how they’d escape the two soldiers standing guard in the hallway.

  “Do you have any other metal on you?” the man in scrubs asked. “Any piercings that I need to know about?”

  “No.” Slowly he began to see the mastery of the plan. He vaguely recalled that MRI scans were giant magnets, which meant no metal was allowed inside the room.

  That included guns or other weapons.

  “Okay, we’re ready to roll.” The man pulled his bed away from the wall and pushed him through the open doorway. As before, the two soldiers came to walk beside him, one on each side of the gurney.

  “Why is Mustaf having an MRI?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “How should I know? I’m just following orders. His doctor ordered an MRI, so that’s where we’re going.”

  The soldiers fell silent. The man pushing his bed greeted several staff they passed in the hallway along the way.

  Almost as if he really did work here.

  “Sorry, you guys will need to stay behind the red line,” the man in scrubs said in a cheerful voice.

  “We go where he goes,” the soldier said sternly.

  “No can do. We can’t allow anything metal beyond the red line. If you’re bored, pull up a YouTube video on the power of an MRI magnet. You’ll watch a cop who crossed the line lose his weapon right out of his holster, the gun flying across the room and hitting the magnet. It’s pretty impressive.”