Breach of Protocol

by Nathan Goodman

  Jana yanked and thrashed but could not free herself. When he finally let go, the enormity of the danger she was in sent a shock of adrenaline through her body. Jana shook her head and her breathing accelerated.

  Rafael looked at her chest as it moved up and down and he smiled. “So very nice, Miss Baker. I do believe I will enjoy your body very much. Very much indeed. Again, what harm can come if you tell me what you know? Was the FBI aware that I transported the suicide bomber last year, along with his weapon, from one place to another?”

  When she did not respond, he raised an open hand and slapped her face with force.

  Jana coughed. “We knew there was someone, someone involved in transport. But,” she coughed again, “we did not know who it was.”

  “And what about now? What does the FBI know about my involvement in the assassinations leading up to today?”

  Jana glared at the man then said through gritted teeth, “Your involvement? You have something you’d like to tell me?”

  He reared back in laughter. “True to the end, Miss Baker. True to the end. Still think you’re an FBI agent working a terrorism case, don’t you? Still think you can save the day? How wonderful. And I seem to have touched a chord as well. Perhaps you did not know I assassinated that pathetic sheriff in Louisiana, the director of the CDC, and the director of the FBI.”

  Jana yanked against her restraints and screamed, “I’m going to kill you!”

  He reared a hand and slapped her back down.

  “Yes, I have touched a chord indeed. It’s the director of the FBI, isn’t it? Closer to him than I realized, weren’t you? I must say that it is quite enthralling to see you squirm. You will make quite a play toy. And afterward, to slice the flesh from your body. Such a shame. It will be quite the waste. But since your time is close, I will share with you the more intimate details about your precious FBI director’s death. I practiced quite a bit with the crossbow. I had never fired one, you see. But I have to admit, seeing the crossbow bolt sail across the street and rip its way into the brain of my prey was an adrenaline rush. Surely you saw the crime-scene photos. There was a most beautiful spray of brain matter on the sidewalk.”

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut your mouth!”

  He jammed a hand onto her throat and squeezed.

  46

  MOTION

  Wrangler Lake, Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. About thirty-three miles west of Yellowstone Airport.

  The single-engine plane dropped, clipped the tip of a pine tree, and pitched into a slight sideways yaw just as it cleared the tree line.

  “Hang on!” Ranger Parker yelled as she jammed her foot onto the left rudder pedal to correct the spin. The plane lurched onto the water’s surface with a heavy thud. They all slammed forward into their seat belts as the plane skidded across the water and began to slow. When it came to a stop, a wall of water washed over the plane’s windshield and everything was again quiet.

  “Shit,” the ranger said as she panted.

  “You okay, Cade?” Kyle said.

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Thanks Parker, you saved our asses. Come on, Cade, we’ve got to get out of this flying coffin. We’re on the wrong side of the lake from the cabin, right?”

  “Yes, ouch. Shit, that hurts” Parker said through gritted teeth. “It’s right over that ridge. In the unlikely event anyone is in the cabin, I doubt we are close enough for them to have heard the plane approaching.”

  “What is it? You hurt?” Kyle said.

  “There’s no time,” Parker replied. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t need that leg anyway. You need to get to the cabin.”

  Kyle leaned over her. “Parker, that leg is broken. We need to get you out of here.”

  “What for? The plane floats. It’s not like it’s going anywhere.”

  “Let’s try the radio,” Cade said. “Can you raise your base station?”

  “No engine, no radio. Sorry.” Parker said. “And that handheld would have to be taken up to the top of one of these ridges to do any good.”

  “We’re cut off,” Kyle said. “Wonderful. There’s no way to call the outside world.”

  “Well,” Parker said, “no use crying over spilled engine parts and broken legs. I still have jurisdiction in this park. You two get the hell off my plane.”

  Kyle shook his head. “Come on, Cade. Time to get wet.”

  “Don’t let the radio submerge,” Parker yelled. “You can use the flotation device to rest your rifle on as you swim to shore.”

  A few minutes later, Cade and Kyle trudged out of the lake and looked back at the plane where Ranger Parker flashed them a thumbs-up. They then began to jog along the shoreline. The run continued up the small ridge until they neared the top.

  “That was one tough woman,” Kyle said as he unshouldered his rifle and held up his hand in a closed fist.

  “What the hell is that closed fist supposed to mean?” Cade whispered.

  “It means to stop, nimrod. Down there. Look, there’s the cabin. Ranger Parker knows her terrain,” he said as he lay on his stomach. “She’s put us on the high ground for our approach.”

  Kyle peered through the scope of the sniper rifle, then twisted the reticle to zoom the view closer.

  “What are we waiting for?” Cade said. “Let’s go. What if she’s in there?”

  “Sit tight. We have to know what we’re walking into. What if she is in there, but we kick down the door and get cut in half with a shotgun? Wouldn’t be able to help her much then. Besides, Cade, Jarrah is the priority.”

  “Maybe to you. What do you see through the optics?”

  “Nothing. I can see through that side window, but I don’t see any movement. And judging from the way the porch looks, there hasn’t been anyone in there in a long time.”

  “You mean she’s not there?”

  “Doesn’t look like anyone is there, no. I can’t see anything on the ground leading up to the porch steps that looks disturbed. You know, there are leaves all over the steps. No one has cleared them off. There are no fallen branches pushed to the side, no—”

  “No what?”

  “I just saw something. Motion. In the window. I was looking at the porch steps, but . . . it could have just been a reflection of a bird flying over or something. But I thought I saw motion out of the corner of my eye. Probably imagining things. I don’t know. Come on, let’s slide over to our right. I might get a better view.”

  47

  FEAR

  Remote cabin, Yellowstone National Park

  This time when Rafael slapped Jana’s face, she tasted salty wetness in her mouth.

  “Coward,” she said. Then she spat blood onto the floor. “A coward ties up his victim, then acts as if he’s all-powerful.”

  “Jarrah would have sliced you limb from limb by now. As it is, I have other interests.” He stood behind her chair and leaned over her, burying his face into her neck.

  “Get off of me, you filthy prick!”

  “Oh, but Miss Baker. Let’s get to know one another better. We are going to be very close.”

  He walked around in front of her and picked up the antique knife and placed the blade against her cheek.

  “You will learn to be more respectful.”

  He wove the blade underneath her chin, then down to the top of her shoulder where it stopped, its tip just underneath Jana’s bra strap. He flicked the blade to the side and the razor-sharp edge sliced the strap.

  48

  RIGHTS DELIVERED

  On a hillside above a remote cabin, Yellowstone National Park

  “Come on, man! What can you see now?”

  Kyle shifted his body and again peered through the scope. As he zoomed his view through the window, his shoulders tensed. “Oh shit! She’s there! There’s a man with a knife. He’s cutting at her clothing!”

  Cade started to jump up but Kyle wrenched him down.

  “Get off of me!”

  “Cade, we have to take him by surprise. I barely
have a view of him. And there might be others in that cabin with her.”

  “But they’re going to hurt her!”

  “Listen, and do exactly as I say. As quickly and as quietly as you can, get down there and get onto the porch by the door. You can’t be detected. Once you’re there, wait for the shot. If I get an opening, I’ll take the son of a bitch out, then I’ll come charging down the hill. You get in there as soon as you hear me fire.” He pulled Cade’s face close to his. “You up for this?”

  Cade pulled out the Glock. “You just do your part. I’m going to rip out his liver and eat it with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

  “Good. Time to meet the dragon.”

  Cade slid down the hill and crept onto the porch, then leaned against the plank siding.

  Kyle drew in several deep breaths, then exhaled in a long, slow action. His cheek never lifted from the rifle stock.

  He glanced at Cade, who nodded back.

  Cade heard a chilling scream come from inside the cabin and his adrenaline raged. He whispered, “Come on, Kyle. Shoot, dammit. Shoot.” He looked up at Kyle and moved in front of the wooden door. “Shot or no shot, I’m going in.”

  Up on the hilltop, Kyle could see bits of motion through the glass, but he had no clear line of sight. He couldn’t even tell what he would be shooting at. But as he heard the scream, he knew. He had to risk it. Then a flash of motion popped into view and he touched off a round. The rifle recoiled against his shoulder and he leapt to his feet and tore down the hill.

  Cade kicked the door so hard it burst open and dislodged from one of its hinges. He saw Jana tied to a chair and a dark-haired male covered in his own blood, standing back up. The man raised a handgun and fired at Cade, and Cade fired back. Both men spun sideways as the force of the bullets hit home. Rafael rocked backward, fell against the table, and collapsed to the ground. He then glared at the two bullet holes, one in his upper chest, the other in his hip.

  Kyle burst through the open door just as Rafael raised his gun again and fired. Kyle took the full force of the bullet in his abdomen, then flash-fired his rifle at point blank range. The bullet struck Rafael’s forearm, causing the handgun to spin across the floor. Kyle stood, then looked around the room to ensure no other terrorists were present. He towered over Rafael and clutched a hand against his own ribs.

  Jana screamed. “Cade! Kyle! You’re hit. You’re both hit!”

  Cade looked at his right shoulder to find blood streaming down. The pistol dropped to the ground from a hand which no longer seemed to have the ability to grip the handle. He went to Jana and began pulling against the bindings on her wrists. “Are you okay?” he said.

  Her face was flush and blood dripped from the side of her mouth and neck.

  “Yes.” She looked down at the torn bra that barely covered her. “The son of a bitch.”

  Rafael watched from the floor as he applied pressure to his chest. Frothy, red blood spurted from one of the bullet holes. It was a lung shot.

  “He won’t be hurting you any more, Jana,” Kyle said as he stood over the man.

  “Cade, are you all right? Can you untie my hands? He was going to,” she started to cry. “He was going to . . .”

  Rafael laughed at her until he coughed.

  “I know,” Cade said as he fought her bindings free, then applied pressure to the wound on his shoulder. “It’s all over now. Like Kyle said. He’s not going to touch you now.”

  “So amusing, your country,” Rafael said.

  Kyle placed the muzzle of the rifle onto Rafael’s temple and pushed. “Amusing? How amusing do you think it is now?”

  He peered at Kyle through the sides of his eyes. “You will not hurt me. You are a police officer.”

  “Federal agent, dickwad,” Kyle said.

  “You are bound by your laws to get me medical care. I’ll be in a hospital. You will save me so I can stand trial. What a wonderful country you have. But make no mistake, you will not stop him.” He laughed and blood dripped down the side of his mouth. “You will not stop Jarrah. It is too late.”

  Jana stood and rubbed her wrists.

  “Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” she said.

  Cade slumped to the ground and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

  “Cade!” Kyle yelled. He dropped down to Cade and began to apply pressure to his wound.

  But Jana grabbed Cade’s Glock off the floor and discharged three rounds into Rafael’s chest.

  Kyle recoiled. “Jana!” he yelled and began to reach out to her.

  But it was too late. Rafael was dead. She looked at Kyle with eyes of cold steel and said through gritted teeth, “Fuck him.” She stood atop the carcass. “After all, he has the right to remain silent.” She fired another round into his chest. “He has the right to an attorney.” She pumped a round into his groin. “If he cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for him.” She squeezed the trigger in repetition until she had emptied the magazine into his chest and groin area. Brass shell casings littered the floor and the smell of gunpowder and blood hung thick in the air.

  She yelled at the dead man, “DO YOU UNDERSTAND THESE RIGHTS?”

  Jana let the gun dangle from her fingers but otherwise stood tall.

  Kyle’s mouth hung agape. “Jana . . . that was an unarmed suspect. You killed an unarmed man.”

  “Got what he deserved!”

  Kyle bent over into the pain of his own wound but otherwise kept pressure on Cade’s.

  “Cade’s hit badly,” he said

  “Me?” Cade whispered through closed eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Keep pressure on his shoulder, Kyle. What about you? Let me see that.” She lifted Kyle’s Kevlar vest and uncovered an entrance wound just below the vest in his lower abdomen. “Here, put pressure here.”

  “Hey, pull that chair over here, will you? We need to elevate his legs.”

  Jana moved the chair while holding one hand over her exposed chest. She then wiped the blood from her face. “I’m going after him.”

  “Jana,” Cade coughed. “You can’t shoot an unarmed—”

  “I said he got what he deserved! I don’t want to hear another word about it. You got me?”

  Jana walked toward a pile of her own clothing, then glanced back at their wounds. “I said keep pressure on this. Right here.” She pointed to Kyle. “And with him, blood is spurting out with each of his heartbeats. The bullet clipped an artery. Don’t move your thumb from that bullet hole. If you keep pressure on it, he won’t bleed out.”

  “Jana,” Cade said as he reached for her. “Don’t leave me.”

  Kyle looked at her. “He doesn’t stand a chance unless you get help. Get to the lake, the ranger has a medical kit in the plane.”

  “What time is it?” Jana said as she quickly finished dressing.

  “What time is it?” Kyle replied as he looked at his watch. “It’s zero nine sixteen hours. Why?”

  She yanked against the broken wooden door and wrenched it out of the way. “No time for that. He detonates in two hours.”

  “Cade needs help, and you don’t even know where Jarrah is going,” Kyle said. But Jana was already out the door and down the porch steps.

  She didn’t turn back, but said, “Yes I do. I know exactly where he’s going. I overheard their conversation.”

  “You can’t face him alone!” Kyle yelled to her.

  “I have to face him alone,” was her solemn reply.

  49

  SCARS THAT SPEAK

  Just north of the Willmont Homestead

  Jana charged up the hillside and slung the sniper rifle diagonally over her head and shoulder as her legs pounded up the rocky terrain.

  Her mind flashed back to all those times at Quantico when her instructors yelled for her to charge up a daunting hill that FBI trainees had nicknamed the widow-maker. Then another memory ricocheted forward—her shooting instructor’s steely voice. Double tap, center mass, then one to the head.

/>   She crested the hilltop and looked into the shimmering reflection of lake water below. On the far side of the lake, Jana saw the float plane. Her eyes continued to trace the shoreline until she found the mouth of Tower Creek. Before she broke into a sprint toward the creek, she couldn’t help but notice Ranger Parker, soaked from head to foot, seated on the ground with one leg stretched in front of her. She held a rope that was attached to the plane, and dug her one good foot into the thick mud in order to pull the floating aircraft closer to shore.

  My kind of woman, Jana thought.

  As Jana turned to sprint toward the wide creek to follow Jarrah, she said, “This one is for me,” though no one could have heard her.

  Once over the hilltop, she slowed to a jog, pacing herself for the rugged run ahead. She trudged across the tilted terrain, bracing every few steps as her footing gave way underneath loose rock. To Jana, Tower Creek looked more like a river. Not the kind frequented by whitewater rafters, but a rocky fast-mover nonetheless.

  She ran through thick briers, slipped on the rocky, tree-covered hillside with frequency, and collected an increasing series of scrapes and bruises as she powered forward. Although her lungs burned and her legs bled, Jana accepted the pain without a second thought.

  The mission became more and more clear in her mind. Jarrah had no intention of passing the duty of detonating the nuclear device to another jihadist. He was the jihadist. He would do this himself, and die in the process.

  Blood streamed down her shin from a fresh gash earned against the sharp rocks. Sweat rolled down her face, and the drops cleared streaks through the dirt and dried blood. The more exhausted she became, the harder she ran. But the stress and terror of what she’d just been through took its toll, and her mind wandered back to the first time she’d faced one of Waseem Jarrah’s nuclear devices. In that instance, she’d broken into a similar sprint moments before detonation and engaged the suicide bomber with gunfire at point blank range. Jana now knew the horror of those events would never leave her. The bullet scars she had earned that day would make sure of that, terrifying calling cards from the bright blue morning that nearly ended in her death. The scars would always remain in her sight, every time she looked in the mirror. The scars spoke to her, like echoes from a shimmering nightmare. They would not be silenced for the rest of her life.