by Evans, Misty
“Seems like he would have killed the dog by now,” Elaina murmured as the SEALs spoke again to each other.
“Raissi understands that a dog is a better security measure than any expensive system,” Julia said. “Michael will be devastated when he finds out they killed Pongo.”
“That will be my job.” Elaina met Julia’s gaze. “Sorry.”
Diamond motioned to his men. “Harris and Worley cami up for insertion into the house through the kennel. Your job will be to gather intel and disable as many bombs as possible prior to the assault. Belcini, you prepare for a drop into the house via the chimney. The helicopter on the front lawn will provide the noise and distraction we need to drop you, Milford and Saville on the roof via a second helo. Milford and Saville will go in through the second story windows.” He glanced at Agent Koburn. “We know Director Stone’s surveillance and security network is contained in this room on the second floor.” He pointed at the blueprints.
“That’s wrong.” Julia jumped up from her chair. “His video monitors are in his office on the first floor.” She pointed to the exact location on the blueprints. “The main security panel is here in the mudroom just off the garage on the west wall.”
Diamond thanked her. “That makes sense. Thermal imaging shows Raissi and the hostages are all in the office with single guards stationed at the front and back doors of the house.”
“What about the balcony’s French doors upstairs?” Julia asked.
“One man,” Diamond answered. “Agent Koburn, you will be responsible for taking that man out from a position on the northwest side, here. Station yourself outside the tripwire perimeters on the elevated hillside and wait for my signal. We’ll use Mr. Heller’s entrance into the house as takedown time.”
Elaina nodded once.
Thunder rolled above their heads. “The weather is our ally for the time being, but that may change again at any moment. Any questions?”
There were a few last minute details to iron out before the SEALs filed out to cami up. Diamond acknowledged Julia’s worried look. “Your ex-partner was a SEAL, huh?”
She stood and nodded. “Conrad Flynn.”
“Flynn. I’ve heard of him. His group did a lot of work in the Gulf region, didn’t they? What made him defect to the CIA?”
That made her smile. If Conrad was listening, he was probably cussing the younger SEAL out. “He’s not the best team player.”
Diamond chuckled. “Is that why you’re not partners anymore?”
Julia gave him a wink. “That, I’m afraid, is classified information.”
“Right.” His smile faded and he turned serious. “Ms. Quinn, one of my men is in the local news channel’s van right now decking out a news camera to hold his weapon so he can enter the house disguised as a cameraman with Heller and assist in the takedown. We’ll be coming in through the front, back and upstairs, and if the counterassault goes as planned, my men will locate the hostages and eliminate the tangos before Raissi can clear his throat for his speech. If he or any of his men try to flee, the FBI snipers will take them out as they exit the house. Have confidence.”
Julia couldn’t hide her lack of it. “Lt. Diamond, Raissi’s too clever to fall for the cameraman angle. He’ll demand Heller bring in the camera and he’ll have one of his own men videotape the interview.”
“We’ll be ready for that too,” Diamond said.
Agent Buchanan stormed into the tent, assaulting the door flap so hard the lights hanging above their heads swung back and forth. “Sorry, Ms. Quinn. Jurgen Damgaard has extreme confidence in your abilities, but even he and Susan Richmond couldn’t get the okay from my boss to let you interfere in this rescue. Are you satisfied now?”
Julia bit the inside of her cheek and looked at Lt. Diamond. “If I were a man, a former SEAL, like my ex-partner, would you let me participate?”
Buchanan answered, “Absolutely not.”
But Diamond smiled at her.
Buchanan looked at his watch. “Our deadline’s approaching and I need to be spending my time preparing for the counterassault. If you have valid information to share with me or Lt. Diamond, please feel free to do so. Otherwise, consider yourself done here, Ms. Quinn.”
Julia watched him head for the flap. “Can you tranquilize the dog instead of killing him?” she begged. “Please? For Director Stone?”
Buchanan stopped, looked up at the swinging lights and blew out a long breath. He shook his head, but reached into his back pants pocket and handed Julia one of his business cards. “I like your tenacity. Give me a call if you ever decide you need a career change.”
Julia’s hopes fell, but she took the card. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do that.”
As Buchanan exited the tent, she heard him start calling out orders to the gearheads in the blue vans.
“We’ve got tranquilizer guns,” Diamond said to her as he too made his way to the flap. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Julia felt a spurt of hope again. “Thank you.”
After Diamond and Agent Koburn left the tent, Julia examined the plan her brain had been building since midnight. It was dangerous. It was foolhardy. And it was something she had to do.
Glancing at Buchanan’s card, she folded it and tucked it into her bra.
No one saw Julia slip the black FBI windbreaker off the back of a chair or a matching baseball cap and the headset from the front seat of one of the blue vans. No one took notice of her snagging two jumbo cinnamon rolls from the coffee table and folding them in separate napkins before sticking them in the windbreaker’s pockets. The helicopter bearing Thomas Heller was thirty minutes away and everyone inside the FBI operations camp, including Susan Richmond, was too busy preparing for his arrival.
So no one paid any attention as she ducked under the security tape and walked by the police barrier securing the area south of the front gate. She wound her way quickly through the reporters and onlookers and headed down the gravel road toward the line of trees.
Ignoring the white “Forever Flowers” van parked in the midst of news vans fifty yards away, she entered the woods she had run through the previous afternoon, and once out of view of the road, exchanged her own jacket for the black one, put the headset on and shoved her hair under the cap. She took the tiny night-vision binoculars she’d swiped from Smitty out of her jacket pocket and hung them around her neck. Then she went to find her tote bag still buried by the oak tree.
“Still no answer?” Conrad asked. Smitty shook his head.
Conrad drummed his fingers on the table. “She’s always bitching at me about trying to save the world. Now she’s doing it.”
“She wants to save Director Stone. Not the whole world.”
Dropping his head into his hands, Conrad made no comment. He had to get Julia out of there, but he didn’t know how.
Smitty spoke up. “We could go in after her. Susan’s not expecting us now.”
Conrad considered the suggestion, rubbed his forehead. “Getting past security will be about as easy as making the Empire State Building disappear.”
Smith held up a finger, stood and moved to a shelf on the other side of the van. Digging through a stack of files, he pulled one out and handed it to Conrad. “I started working on these last week. All that’s left is to laminate them.”
Conrad opened the file and looked at the fake CIA IDs. He grimaced at the picture of himself, one Smitty had made for the passport he’d used the week before, complete with disguise. He could duplicate it. “You never cease to amaze me, Smith,” he said, reaching over to lightly punch Smitty’s arm.
“Occasionally, I even amaze myself.” He grinned, stretching his arms out and cracking his knuckles.
“What about me?” Ace asked, jumping up. “What do I get to do?”
Smith and Flynn turned to him. “Drive,” they said in unison.
Still in the front seat, Cari stared out the window. “I do not think that will be necessary. I see her coming this way.”
C
onrad leaned back in the chair to see out the windshield and felt himself relax a micron as he, too, saw the slim figure of Julia walking on the side of the road near the tree line. “Finally.” He sat back up and pushed the fake CIA badge away.
“Uh-oh,” Cari said.
Ace jumped up from the floor. “Uh-oh? What uh-oh?”
Both Con and Smitty were on their feet and pushing Ace out of the way as they scrambled to see what Cari saw.
“I don’t believe it,” Conrad seethed through gritted teeth.
Julia had just disappeared into the woods.
Chapter Forty-Four
At 3:45, Fayez Raissi paced the Italian marble of the kitchen floor and stifled a yawn. He was tired. He had showered and shaved, but even that was not enough to completely refresh him. The only thing keeping the exhaustion at bay was the thought of speaking to the world on national television, immortalizing himself before dying in an explosion of holy retribution. With great deliberation, weighing risk against payoff, he had decided to address America. The day and the hour would be Islam’s. In his mind, he saw his dead brothers waiting for him in their heaven, holding out their arms to welcome him in. Allah is great.
Raissi thought of his son, too young to die and too young to live alone in a country torn apart by war. There were only those two choices for his son and so many other young men. Death by either was inevitable. What was a father to do? Take his son with him? Or leave him behind?
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Raissi pulled in a deep breath. So much was at stake now he had to be sure, as the messenger of his faith and his country, that he didn’t lose his concentration. He stopped pacing, gathered his posture erect. Drawing in another deep breath, he closed his eyes and pictured himself completing the final two objectives of his plan. Envisioned himself, tall and proud, speaking not only to America, but to the world, with Muammar, his son, by his side. The newsman, Heller, would be there within a half hour. Raissi would wait until dawn, when Americans were waking up to their morning news, to give them something newsworthy.
Another breath and he focused his thoughts on the speech itself.
Keep it simple.
Keep it short.
End with a bang.
Julia knelt in the woods and uncovered her tote bag from the pile of leaves and brush. Finding her penlight, she turned it on, brushed the last of the wet leaves off the bag and started moving toward Michael’s house. She wasn’t as worried this time about making noise, but she still moved as stealthily as possible. Buchanan had the edge of the woods and the path to the lake staffed with his men and women for security purposes, and while the windbreaker with FBI in bold yellow letters across the back might keep her from being shot by one of them, she was still treading on very dangerous ground.
As she maneuvered through the trees, keeping the flashlight’s beam pointed at the ground, she thought about the twists and turns her life had taken in the course of the last few days as well as the last few years. There had been a lot of pain and grief, but there’d also been a lot of peace and happiness. She had felt great passion and great heartbreak. She had survived everything the world had thrown at her and, more than survived, she had thrived in her life. She had defended the innocent and worked passionately at keeping her country safe. She knew what it felt like to love and be loved by two good men.
Listening to the wind whisper in the leaves above her, she decided her life had been a good one overall, and if she had to die in these early morning hours, it would be okay. She would take the chance if she could save Michael.
She reached under her shirt and pulled the mic off her stomach and the transmitter off her back and shoved them in her bag. She had to do this and there was no way Conrad would understand. “Sorry, Con,” she whispered in the dark. She knew Raissi and didn’t trust him. The terrorist had cut his teeth on military strategy and had studied the FBI and SEAL team tactics for years. Julia was sure he would wait until Heller got in the door and the SEALs were descending on him and then blow everybody to kingdom come. But she could create a diversion and prevent that, giving Buchanan’s men and the SEALs much better odds.
Her cell phone vibrated on her hip again. Julia shut off the penlight, turned her phone off and slowed her steps as she neared the tree line. Raising the night vision goggles, she looked for security officers and found none in her general vicinity. She checked her watch and saw it had taken almost twenty minutes to cut through the woods. The HRT snipers would already be in position. She was running out of time.
Setting her bag on the ground, she felt for the tools she would need to get into the house and pocketed them. Then she edged closer to the property line, lay on her stomach and watched the area through her binoculars, keeping her body shielded behind a tree. Several human shapes showed up on her lenses in various spots around the property within her view. Like her, Buchanan’s team was laying low.
She saw Pongo, standing up in his kennel on alert. He seemed to be looking right at her. She moved closer and heard his soft whine. He definitely knew she was there. The faint smell of cigarette smoke made her shift her gaze to the balcony. One of the glass French doors was open. Raissi’s man was enjoying a last smoke, and Julia wondered at his stupidity to expose himself to a sniper’s bullet for such a pleasure.
A second later, the secure radio headset she was wearing crackled in her ear. Then a man’s voice. “Bluebell, this is Morning Glory,” Lt. Diamond murmured. “Do you read? This is a test. Over.”
Nick Worley’s voice responded, “Roger, Morning Glory. We read you loud and clear.”
Diamond continued his test until all SEALs and HRT personnel had responded.
“Take positions,” Diamond’s voice commanded. “Helo due in four. Bluebell out.”
Julia looked through the darkness at the spot, ten feet in front of her, where Pongo now paced, stopping to scratch at the kennel’s wire fence. The sound of her pulse pounded over the blood roaring in her ears. She was about to take the biggest chance of her life, and she suddenly felt like she was back in her dream, sinking in quicksand.
Drawing in her breath, Julia forced herself to think of the things she loved.
Music, poetry, sex. Breathe.
Cherry blossoms, emerald earrings, hot showers. Breathe.
Michael’s smile. The brush of Conrad’s fingertips down my back. Breathe.
Cognac and poker. April in Paris.
She stopped her mental list and blew her breath slowly out through her lips.
It was raining again, or was the wetness on her face tears? She wiped it away with the heels of her hands and pulled a flattened cinnamon roll out of her pocket. The balcony terrorist had tossed the last of his cigarette over the railing and disappeared back into the bedroom. “Hi, Pongo,” she whispered to the dog and laid the roll on the ground.
She definitely had his attention. He wagged his stubby tail and danced in circles, lifting his front legs up and spinning. “Hang tight, buddy.”
Pulling her iPod out, she slid it into the pocket of her portable armband. She used this when she was exercising to listen to her music. Now it was going to help her distract Raissi.
She shimmied a few steps back into the woods and ran through the trees ten yards south, using her binoculars to locate the laser beam base unit partially hidden by some landscaping at the southwest corner of the property. The laser unit sent out two electronic beams to the northwest end and was mounted to the post of a solar landscaping light. Julia Velcroed the armband into a circle and lifted her binoculars to the balcony’s doors. No sign of the terrorist. He’d probably left his post for a pee or to find another cigarette.
She dropped to her belly and crawled through the small muddy ravine. Coming up to the stones and bushes of the landscaping, she dropped the iPod over the post, knocking the beams out and, hunched over, ran back across the ravine and into the woods.
“What the hell,” Conrad said, barely above a whisper as he watched Julia run down the hill through his night-vision g
oggles.
Smitty crouched on the ground nearby. “What’s she doing?” It was too dark to see anything without his binoculars which were missing, and Conrad had their only pair of goggles.
“She’s setting off the house alarm.” Conrad’s voice was flat.
“Why?”
Conrad handed the binoculars to Smitty. “To create a distraction. She’s going in.”
“I knew she would. Didn’t I call it?”
Conrad was up off the ground and moving in the blink of an eye. Stealthily, but quickly, he began to move in between trees. Smitty moved behind him. “You can’t go after her, Con,” he whispered.
Conrad registered Smitty’s comment but kept moving. All his senses were trained on Julia. He was never going to get to her before she went in the kennel and his mind was ticking through his options.
“Conrad!” Smitty grabbed his shoulder.
Conrad pulled away, intent on his quest. Smitty tackled him from behind, sending both of them crashing face down in the slimy, wet undergrowth of the woods. Conrad brought an elbow back and caught Smith on the side of the head.
“Ouch,” Smitty barked, giving Conrad a hard shove as he moved off of him and stood up. “What the hell’s the matter with you? You cannot go after her.” His breath was coming fast and he reached down to help Conrad to his feet. Wiping slime off his pants, he rubbed the side of his head with his left hand.
“You don’t understand.” Conrad took a step backwards.
“I do understand. You love her. But you have to know when to let go, Con. You have to put your emotions aside this time. Julia just made a choice. She’s chosen Stone.”
Conrad cursed, slamming his hand against the nearest tree. He stood for a moment, letting the fact sink in. Damn, his stomach hurt. It didn’t matter what choice she’d made, he wasn’t ready to let her go. Not again.
She’s mine.
He looked at his best friend. “I don’t care who she’s chosen. I have to go after her.” He stuck his hand out. “Take care, Ryan.”
