“And now? How do I know I can trust you?”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do this if there was anyone else.”
“The greater good.” She rolled her eyes. “For once, I’d like to be someone’s greater good.”
“You deserve that.”
“But it won’t happen. I’ve cheated death too many times to count. My number’s going to come up soon.” Maybe tomorrow or the next day. Who knew?
“We’ll have all the support on hand, Yael.”
“Abigail. I’m not that woman anymore.”
“You’re still a damn fine agent.”
She ended the call. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying yes. Let him stew for however long it took her to get herself together. She had the day. One more day with Luke, his mother, and these people.
Abigail stood and slid the phone into her pocket.
She’d do it, because Baron was right. She knew where the bomb was. The codes. While stationed at Princeton, it’d been up to her to make a trip up to check on the bomb once every eighteen months. Ensure it was still there. That no one else had found the old German warhead. How she’d hated those trips. But she’d do it on her terms.
The conference room door opened and Luke stepped in, his face hidden by shadow.
“We need to sort this out. You were listening?” She rubbed her palms on her thighs. What she was about to say… It went against her training. The conditioning. But she could not do this on her own. Not in the shape she was in.
“It’s why we installed the spy wear on your phone, right?” The grim look on his face made her stomach drop…but only for a moment. He wasn’t pissed at her. He wanted a piece of Baron.
“How much did you hear?”
“All of it.”
“Good.”
“Really?” He stared at her.
“Luke, I can’t do this on my own. I mean… I probably could, but I won’t. I need help, and you’re the only person I can trust. I did let you install spy wear on my phone, remember?” The difference between Luke listening in on her calls and Baron was that Luke cared. She wasn’t going to shut him out again.
He cared about her.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat.
It would be dangerous.
She couldn’t let him go.
“Okay. What do we do?” he asked.
“Tell the others I’m not feeling well.”
Abigail had never had a partner. She’d never gone into an operation with someone she knew at her back. Sure, she’d had other agents watching out for her, but they’d been strangers. Luke, she’d trust with her life.
22.
Luke operated in a kind of heightened-state-trance. The binoculars might as well be glued to his face, probably because he’d stared through them for almost two days straight. He was constantly aware of every fluttering leaf, bending branch and breath Abigail breathed. He’d drank so much coffee he could smell colors.
Working with her, like this, it felt natural. As if they’d been a functioning team forever, instead of forty-eight hours.
“Any movement?” she whispered.
“Not yet.”
The scrape of her pencil on paper had become a comforting sound.
It signaled progress. Or something.
She jotted down more notes. Always writing. There was a complete log of their movements, who Zach spoke with, where he’d transported the bomb, everything. If they hadn’t moved when they had, striking off on their own, they’d have missed Zach’s team extracting the bomb from Arlington entirely. In the last forty-eight hours they’d remained stuck to Zach and his team, always out of sight.
“They’ve got to move it soon,” he muttered. “What’d Baron say?”
“The FBI team is still stationed at the cemetery. DoD is running interference on the gas. They haven’t yet connected it to Zach’s people.”
“Has Baron told the DoD he knows about the gas?”
“He avoids answering that question.”
“Do you think Baron wants to get the gas for Mossad?”
“Maybe.” She was quiet a moment. “I’m looking at the maps…I don’t think we’ll get a better site than this to de-arm it. Look here for a second.”
He peered through the binoculars a moment longer, committing the scene to memory. The single truck outside the park utility shed, the single guard on look-out. Nothing around.
“Show me.”
“Okay.” She tapped the map. “This is where we’re at. Easy access to the highway from here, here, and here. Either they want to drive it closer to the White House, or they want to detonate it here. All of DC would be in that first sphere of impact. It really depends what their target is.”
“God, this sucks.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “How did something like this happen?”
“Germans wanted to win a war. They knew they couldn’t hit the American mainland after Pearl Harbor, so they did the next best thing. Got someone in on the nuclear bomb project. Developed their own. And stashed it.”
“This is all in your Mossad files?”
“Yes.”
“What happened after they stashed it? Why didn’t they use it?”
“The two men who knew where the bomb was—and the codes—died.”
“How did you end up with them?”
“The codes were in files an agent stole back in the seventies. From there it was just a lot of looking around until we found the right site.”
“What would have happened if someone had found it before you?”
“I’m amazed no one had. Even with the shielding, the radiation that bomb leaked into the ground killed everything around it. You saw it.”
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “What are we doing now?”
“The unknown factor is the gas. We last saw it…” Abigail pulled out a second map. “Here. At their hotel last night. Now, it could have come out in any one of those bags.”
“The gas is bad, but that bomb could be a lot worse.”
“They’re both bad.”
“Think we should call in support?”
Abigail bit her lip. They had agreed to not talk about Baron or how he kept trying to jerk her life around, but the fact of it was still there, simmering under the surface. Luke couldn’t decide if he was proud of her, or pissed at her. They were keeping a national security threat a secret. Two threats, if the gas and bomb were looked at separately.
“I can’t support that decision,” she said slowly.
Because then it would come out that one of America’s allies wasn’t being honest. The rift it would create could damage their relationship in the Middle East. The fallout would be huge. It was crazy to him that it was all riding on them. Not only the safety of millions of people, but the world political climate as well. What they did next mattered.
“What’s that?” Abigail lifted her chin, peering through the line of trees and shrubs they’d taken up position behind.
Luke shoved his face up against the binoculars.
“It’s the bag.” He did his best to focus on it, but there was no mistaking the hazard yellow bag. It was just a regular, nylon bag, but he recognized it. Knew what the oblong shapes were.
Canisters of gas.
A chemical agent that would spread through not just the North American population, but farther. Much worse than any flu or cold. Whatever that gas was, it was meant to kill countries.
“How many are there?” Abigail whispered.
He could hear her tallying up the people they’d noted.
“Eight. Six inside, two outside.” He adjusted his aim. “Wait—something’s happening.”
Abigail dropped the pencil.
For a moment neither said a word.
“Where are they taking it?” she asked out loud.
“I don’t know…”
They watched as four men rolled a cart out of the utility shed…away from the cars. Into the grass field. Any other day, there would be children playing soccer just beyond the gently rollin
g park mounds that passed for hills.
“This is the detonation site,” Abigail said.
“Shit.” His mind began to whirl. “The gas is still inside the shed. You think you can handle the bomb?”
“Wait—that’s Zach’s town car.” She gripped his arm.
Zach and another man got out.
That was now ten people on site.
“We don’t have time to wait.” Luke let the binoculars drop and turned toward their gear. “I’ll create a distraction, lure them to me, you get the bomb. I’ll worry about the gas.”
He had no idea how he’d manage that, but the biggest threat right now was the bomb. Stopping that was first. Then the gas.
“Luke—no.” Abigail gripped his arm.
“Do you have a better plan?” He was more than willing to do this her way, but they’d agreed so far, there was no good way to deal with this.
Her face was lined, her eyes filled with worry.
“We can do this, and be home in time for whatever dinner mom’s cooking up. She’s probably used every pot and pan I own.” He covered Abigail’s hands with his.
“It’s just…” Her anguish was palpable.
He got it. He wasn’t used to going into tough situations with someone he loved either. It made what they did that much more important.
“Hey.” He reached over and cupped her cheek. “Remember, this is what we were born to do.”
They were cut from the same cloth. Protecting others was woven into their very being. They couldn’t stop being who they were if they tried. Working together made them stronger.
“Skirt the park. Head for that lamp post over there. Wait for my signal.” He swiped his thumb across her cheek.
“What signal?”
“Not sure yet. I’m thinking of making use of that C4.”
Her lips pressed together for a moment, her displeasure telegraphed loud and clear. She did like her plans.
“Fine,” she said. “Don’t go overboard with the explosives. We have no idea what condition that warhead is in.”
Luke leaned forward and kissed the frown off her lips.
He had to believe this wasn’t the last time he’d see her. That they’d get through this. The good guys would win, and the average person wouldn’t even know their lives had been in danger.
This couldn’t be the last time he tasted her, or got to bask in her light.
Tonight he’d take her home, have dinner with her and his mother, and go to bed the happiest man alive.
“You’ve got ten minutes.” He patted her knee.
Abigail slung her pack across her shoulders and within moments she was gone. Slipping through the trees as silent as a ghost, leaving no sign she’d even been there.
He could still feel the warmth of her touch, the taste of her lip balm.
Tonight would be the start of a new chapter.
It had to be.
Luke waited for a count of thirty before he broke open the carrying case for the C4. They’d made use of their downtime last night to prepare a few small charges in case they needed them for something. He took four of the bombs and taped them together.
Was four too many?
It would take an awfully loud bang to pull all of the attention to him.
Four was a good number.
He checked the ammo in the assault rifle and loaded his pockets down with the rest.
Tonight he’d eat his mother’s pot roast and feed mashed potatoes to Abigail, and it would be the best meal ever. But first, they had to save the world.
Abigail slithered through the bushes, turning her body this way and that to leave as little of a trail as possible.
This was crazy. This whole plan could go so terribly wrong if one thing didn’t go the right way. But wasn’t that the way most things happened?
She wiggled under the hedges until she could see the open field.
The four men had stopped the cart and placed what appeared to be a cooler next to an empty picnic table. It was one of the large, white ones that could hold a metric shit-ton of ice and drinks. The bomb would be packed in pretty tight. If it was her, she’d have carved the inside out, removing the insulation and only leaving the outer shell.
Great, now she was brainstorming how she’d set off a bomb.
But wasn’t that the point all along?
Zach had taught her most of what she knew about setting explosives. What she’d learned in her Taliban crash-courses was crude, rudimentary. Nothing like the sophisticated devices Mossad favored.
And she’d had one hell of a teacher.
If there was one thing he did right it was blow stuff up.
Speak of the devil…
Zach stood back, surveying the site. He said something and pointed to one end. Another man shifted the cooler. After a few comments back and forth, the four men strolled toward the shed, each turning and looking around, surveying the empty park.
It was a gray, almost rainy day. If her memory served her right, it was Tuesday, and still early enough the only people they’d seen besides Zach’s team were runners and bikers, but even those were fewer than normal.
She could think of a few reasons. Maybe they’d posted closed signs or reported a gas leak in the area. Residents would stay away. Truth was, she didn’t know and couldn’t worry about that right now.
The minutes dragged on. Each second longer than the last.
Even the birds seemed to realize this was not where they needed to be.
It was quiet. Eerily so.
Where was Luke?
She peered through the leaves, but she couldn’t make out much beyond the utility shed than a few vehicles and no movement.
Zach’s group was almost back to the shed.
Did she wait for the signal? Or make a run for it when they were out of sight?
The flare of light startled her so much she actually jumped. Zach’s town car lifted off the ground, blown upward by the force of the blast. She felt the concussion of the car bomb, and her breath lodged in her throat.
Fuck, that was far too much C4. What the hell was he thinking?
The group headed back to the shed hit the ground, a few less gracefully than others.
Pops of gunfire erupted.
Luke.
Damn him.
She shoved up, breaking through the bushes.
If Zach’s aim wasn’t money, but a cause, if he’d been turned, he could very likely just detonate the bomb now with the gas in close proximity.
She sprinted for the cooler, throwing back the lid.
Someone had removed all but the outer lining of the ice chest.
Of course they would.
The way she would do it was the way Zach had taught her.
Damn him.
She dropped her pack and crouched behind the cooler.
It was only a matter of seconds before the men taking fire happened to look her way, and then she’d have to pray they didn’t have a death wish.
She wanted to sleep next to Luke tonight.
The main panel showed signs of obvious tampering. There was no way to tell if Zach had adjusted the detonating mechanism or not. The device was not yet armed, so that was one relief.
Now all she had to do was pick apart a nuclear bomb before someone shot at her.
No big deal.
Easy as pie, right?
She swallowed and fisted her hands, fighting against the fear tremors.
“Yael!” a man bellowed.
Her chin snapped up.
Zach strode toward her, blood streaming down one side of his face, his gun raised.
Shit.
Luke stared through the scope and fired off another round.
Of the ten men, five were down. He knew where two were. Zach had disappeared and two more had to be in the shed.
He rose, keeping the gun up, and crept down the hill. The blaze of the burned out car was starting to die down. The sound of the flames made the back of his neck prickle with memories of Libya and
pulling Abigail out of the burning building, halfway dead already.
His knee-jerk urge was to go to her. Protect her. But he couldn’t.
He had to find the gas.
She took care of the bomb.
He got the gas.
Something moved at the corner of the utility shed.
He swung to his left and fired. An answering blast of muzzle fire blossomed, but the shot went wide by maybe thirty feet.
Luke quickstepped forward toward the injured man and the shed, skirting the building by a wide berth.
The injured man rolled over on his back, hands grasping his chest.
If this were a war zone, he’d let the man bleed out or kill him as an act of mercy. But this wasn’t a war zone. It was an urban environment and whoever this man was, he deserved to face the justice system, not Luke. The decision struck a discord within him that made him pause.
It was the right decision.
But he didn’t like it.
Fuck.
He knew the logo on the man’s jacket.
He was a guy for hire.
Another figure stepped out of the shed, gun up.
Luke had no time to react.
The gun went off.
He took a step back, bracing himself.
The impact hit him square in the chest, knocking all the oxygen out of his lungs.
But the vest stopped it.
The man rushed Luke. Luke swung his rifle like a bat, knocking the smaller man off his stride. Luke didn’t aim, he simply fired. At this close range all he had to do was hit the guy. The second man went down and didn’t move.
Luke kept the rifle up and edged into the shed.
Something rammed into him from behind, knocking Luke forward. He whirled, gun up, and fired. The shot missed its mark, a third man with a handgun. Luke swung with the rifle, cracking the Asian man in the jaw with the butt of the rifle, and kicked his legs out from under him. He went down hard.
Luke crossed to the yellow bag, yanking the zipper open.
Three silver canisters with biohazard stickers plastered on the outside sat among pieces of foam.
He swallowed.
It was time to get out of there.
A fourth man yelled something, but his voice was drowned out by a blast so loud it shook the building. Sheets of the corrugated metal fell down, landing a few feet away. One side of the shed crumpled in. Luke went down hard, covering his head, wrapping his body around the cans to shield them as debris flew overhead.
Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) Page 27
