Rowan might never forgive him for his original lie. She might never forgive him for locking her in a safe house and keeping her out of the action. Had he failed her again? Gracie insisted Rowan would understand over time, but Roger didn’t think so. Gracie hadn’t seen Rowan, listened to her, talked to her. She didn’t know Rowan like he did.
He’d been lying to Rowan since he met her, and now they were both paying the price.
The speaker system buzzed, then a generic female voice announced, “Attention passengers. Flight 337 for Dallas, Burbank, now open for boarding.”
“Sir?” His aide, a skinny young guy right out of the academy, approached.
“Five minutes,” he said and pulled out his cell phone.
Roger had an idea. He didn’t know if it would work, but time was running out. He punched in a number from memory.
“Saint John’s, may I help you?”
“I need to talk to Father O’Brien. It’s an emergency.”
CHAPTER
25
Adam woke up in the middle of the night with a memory within reach, but as soon as he saw his digital clock telling him it was 3:35 A.M., he lost it.
But it was important. He knew it was important, something he had to remember.
For Rowan.
He got up and poured himself a glass of milk. The dream was the same. He was at Rowan’s house at sunset watching the pretty colors and listening to the ocean. Something had caught his eye.
Something. But what?
He was determined to remember. He began going over that day in his mind. Over and over, from beginning to end. He’d woken up. Drank milk. Cereal. What kind of cereal? Rice Krispies. He smiled. Snap, crackle, pop!
Don’t get off track. You have to remember, Adam!
Cereal. Then cleaning up his dishes. Rowan told him it was important to clean up after yourself. He had watched part of Attack of the 50-Foot Woman on DVD before leaving for the studio. He loved that movie.
He’d gone to work. What had he done? Think. Think. He put together the blood packet for the gunfight. It wasn’t Rowan’s movie, but an action movie, and Barry was letting him help. Barry said he followed directions well.
Then why couldn’t he remember this thing that he knew was important? Think, stupid!
He sat and he thought. And when he got to the end of that day in his mind and it didn’t come to him, he started again.
4:50. And counting.
They grouped at FBI headquarters at three that afternoon. John was beside himself about Tess. Though Collins had spoken to MacIntosh earlier and was able to talk briefly to Tess, Bobby was too volatile, too violent, too unpredictable. He could have shot her as soon as he’d hung up.
But John felt she was still alive. She had to be. It had been his responsibility to protect his sister, and he had failed her.
The ground game was set. The SWAT team had already moved into place. Roger would escort the decoy to the exchange point and Bobby had agreed to bring Tess with him.
John wanted to drive Roger’s car, but Roger tagged Quinn for the assignment, ordering John to stay at the command center they’d set up down the road. If anything went wrong . . . Roger didn’t need to say more.
Get back to Rowan and hide her.
Nothing would go wrong, John told himself. Not with Tess in the middle of a hostage situation. Not with Tess being held by a murderer.
Not with Rowan waiting for him.
Please forgive me for leaving you. It’s for your safety. He hoped Rowan had accepted it by now. Realized it was for the best.
Even John had his doubts. Were they doing the right thing in keeping Rowan in the safe house? Was she right about the trap? She was safe now, but for how long? If this went bad, who would protect her?
I love you.
He had a lot of reasons to get out of this alive, not the least of which was saving Tess. But also important was to build on this precarious relationship with Rowan. He didn’t want to lose her.
So he sat in the command center a half-mile away with Colleen Thorne, Quinn Peterson’s partner, and waited. Two other agents and a pair of SWAT team members hunkered down over communications equipment, but everything was quiet, tension simmering hot and silent beneath the surface.
The exchange point was in the middle of a fallow field outside of Ventura, accessible from all sides. The soil was dry, hard, and lumpy, the landscape impossible to position support troops in. Bobby had insisted that Collins and Rowan drive to the field from the north and when he saw them, he would drive in for the exchange.
The SWAT and FBI teams had changed into dark fatigues, but they couldn’t get too close—barely close enough to take a clean shot.
So many things could go wrong. John stood rigid at the edge of the makeshift command center, where he could observe and hear what was said. He was used to being responsible—for himself and his small team of loyalists. He hated not being in control.
Nearly six o’clock. Time for action.
“Has the suspect been identified?” Agent Thorne asked the field.
“Negative,” the SWAT commander stated. “Hold on.” He listened to someone talking in his earpiece.
John’s skin tingled. This was it.
“We have a possible approaching from the northwest. Dark green sedan.”
John frowned and glanced at the map. That part of the field was impassable with a car. You’d need a four-wheel drive to get through the rough terrain and irrigation ditches.
“It’s not him. The car stopped. A lone driver emerged. Female.”
“Tess?” John asked, but doubted Bobby would have let her go.
“Negative.” The commander called in for a description. “The female is approximately five foot eight, wearing jeans and beige jacket. Blonde.”
Rowan. John slammed his fist on the table. “Goddammit!”
Roger Collins called in from the far north of the field. “Eighteen hundred hours,” he said. “We’re proceeding to the exchange point.”
Agent Thorne said, “Sir, we’ve just identified a lone female on foot approximately half a mile from your location who may be Rowan Smith.”
The SWAT commander spoke. “Possible suspect vehicle coming from the southwest. SUV, tinted windows, Arizona plates. Heading straight for the exchange point.”
Silence. “Flynn?” Collins’s voice commanded.
John didn’t need to hear the question. “I’m on my way.”
It had taken a lot longer than Rowan anticipated for the drug to affect Reggie Jackman. Reggie drank coffee like water, downing two pots over the course of the night and not sleeping a wink. Finally, she added more powdered sleeping pills directly into the pot. By one that afternoon he was out. By one-fifteen she was on the road in his car, headed down to Ventura County.
She got stuck in afternoon commuter traffic in Santa Barbara and ended up a half-mile or so from the field just before six. She was cutting it close, but she didn’t dare park any closer. This was the nearest approach from her direction, but there was no way she’d make it over another irrigation ditch. She’d almost bottomed out on the last one.
She checked her guns and pulled on a lightweight beige windbreaker to better blend into the surroundings. She dreaded the weight of the jacket, however minimal. It was a hot day, and the heat radiating off the dry soil made it seem even hotter, with no breeze carrying in the nearby coolness of the Pacific Ocean. The cloying air sat in her lungs and she breathed through her mouth, tasting dirt.
On foot, she headed to the field, keeping low.
She spotted one of the SWAT teams about a hundred yards west of the field, but couldn’t see any other men. That was good. An SUV was already there—Roger. She saw him in the passenger seat. Waiting. Waiting for Bobby.
There was no way Bobby could escape. At least in theory. The whole exchange plan smelled rotten. Bobby wouldn’t come here if he thought he couldn’t get out. He had a hostage, which increased his chances, but there were likely dozens of men i
n the area waiting for a clear shot. Bobby had to suspect it.
He had something planned, and she feared for Tess’s life.
And John’s. She hadn’t seen him, but she sensed he was close. Tess was his sister. His responsibility. Just like Dani had been hers.
She’d failed Dani, but she wouldn’t fail Tess. John might blame himself, but Rowan knew exactly who was responsible. And she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Tess died.
Keeping low, she scurried closer. To her right, she saw dust being kicked up by another large vehicle.
Bobby had arrived. Her stomach churned uncomfortably at the realization she would soon be face-to-face with her murderous brother, but she pushed on.
Someone had to stop him.
John spotted Rowan lying low on his left at the same time Bobby MacIntosh’s SUV came surprisingly close on his right. John hugged the ground, gun in hand, hoping for a clean shot but knowing he couldn’t take it without knowing exactly where Tess was.
He caught a glimpse of the driver, and it wasn’t Bobby. It was Tess. In the brief moment he saw his sister’s drawn face, he realized she was terrified.
Bobby had to be in the passenger seat. He called in the information to headquarters.
“Did you get a visual on the suspect?”
“Negative. Must be in the passenger seat.”
“Hold your position.”
“Like hell I will,” John muttered.
Rowan had already moved much too close to the exchange point for his comfort. He followed parallel to her path. It was difficult to stay near to the ground, but tumbleweeds and low-lying brush obscured him, as well as Rowan.
A hundred yards in front of him, Tess stopped the SUV. John sucked in his breath but felt surprisingly calm. This was an op, after all. Something he was trained for. As long as he could separate his emotions from action, he would be fine.
The passenger door of Roger’s SUV opened and the assistant director stepped out, staying behind the door. He put his cell phone to his ear. Through his ear communicator, John heard the conversation.
And broke out in a cold sweat, even in the dry heat.
“Prompt.”
It was Bobby MacIntosh on the phone.
“We’re ready.”
“So am I. I want to see Lily.”
“I want to see Tess Flynn.”
“Can’t you see her? She drove in.”
“I want to make sure she’s okay.”
Bobby sighed. “What, you don’t trust me?” His voice was mocking, overconfident.
“Let me see her.”
“Very well.” He hung up.
“MacIntosh?” Roger said into the dead receiver. “Shit, where is he?”
A minute later, the driver’s door of MacIntosh’s silver SUV opened. Tess slowly got out of the car and shut the door behind her.
“No!” John exclaimed, breaking into a run toward her.
“Goddammit,” Roger said over the mike. He punched numbers into his cell phone. “Bobby, pick up the damn phone!”
Tess stood next to the car wearing a vest wired with explosives. Even from his distance, John saw her visibly shaking. She made no move toward Roger. He had no doubt Bobby controlled her every move.
He had to get to her. He could disarm any bomb if he had the time. Just a few minutes. That was all he needed.
He scrambled as close as he dared but lost sight of Rowan. His eyes searched for her. Dammit, where was she?
Over the mike, Bobby finally picked up Roger’s frantic call. “What fucking game are you playing, Bobby?”
“My, my, losing your cool, Mr. Big Shot.” He laughed.
The SWAT commander broke in through the secure channel, where Bobby wouldn’t be able to hear. “Another car, a van, has come within the half-mile radius. Lone male driver.”
“I’m coming to get my sister,” Bobby said. “And if you try to pull a fast one on me, know that there’s enough explosive on cute little Ms. Flynn to take out her and everyone else you have hiding within a quarter-mile radius. Of course, that might have something to do with the explosives I packed into the SUV.”
“You changed the rules,” Roger said, voice low. “This wasn’t what we agreed to.”
“You’re hardly in the position to complain, Roger. Give my sister the keys to your car. Little Tess has the instructions, though I’m sure your wonderfully trained FBI agents have already figured out where I am. Tell them to hold off, or I detonate Ms. Flynn right now.”
“Bastard.”
“Tsk, tsk. You’re not in a good mood, are you, Roger? As soon as I have my sister, I’ll set the bomb. You’ll have ten minutes to disarm it. I’m sure that’ll be enough time for a brilliant FBI agent such as yourself.
“But,” Bobby continued, his voice low, “if you try to screw me, I’ll detonate it immediately. Understand?”
“Yes.” Roger’s voice was strained.
“Send Lily to me now. If I don’t see her in three minutes KA-BOOM.”
John realized that Bobby was too far away to see what was going on at the exchange site. He had a chance to get to Tess and start dismantling the bomb. Three minutes? Next to impossible. But he had to try. He didn’t believe for a moment that MacIntosh would give them the full ten minutes. He listened as Roger told the commander to clear the area of all personnel, back at least two hundred yards.
Rowan watched John sprint toward Tess, who looked like she wore several pounds of plastic explosive wired into a vest. At the same time, the decoy emerged from the rear passenger door. From a hundred feet away, she could pass for Rowan.
Bobby wouldn’t buy it when they were up close and personal. He’d blow up everyone here.
Quinn got out of the driver’s side of Roger’s car and the decoy started walking toward John and Tess.
Rowan would give anything to know what was going on.
Tess was sobbing silently when John rushed to her side.
“Go away! Go away!” she cried, her face a mask of terror. “He’s going to kill us all.”
“Shh, Tess, I know what I’m doing.” John had dismantled more complicated bombs, but this one could be detonated by remote or misstep. He had to proceed with caution.
“No, no, you can’t. Please, go away. Save yourself and everyone else. It’s my fault.” She was shaking and tears streamed down her face.
“Tess!” He didn’t want to yell at her, but if she panicked they would all end up dead. “Look at me.” He held her face in his hands.
She did, her green eyes wide with shock and fear.
“I can fix this. But you can’t move. You have to remain as still as possible, understand?”
She nodded, almost imperceptibly, but still shook in his hands.
“Th-there’s more in the truck,” she said, her teeth chattering.
“I know. One thing at a time.” He let go of her and pulled his fully loaded Swiss army knife out of his pocket. Not ideal, but it would do. It had to.
“Ms. Flynn?”
John glanced over his shoulder and did a double take. For a brief moment he thought she was Rowan. She wasn’t.
“Tess, where does Bobby want her to go?” John asked.
“It won’t work. He’ll know she’s not Rowan and you’ll die, John. We’ll all die. He’ll kill us!” Tess was shouting hysterically.
John slapped her, wincing at the sound his hand made against Tess’s cheek. Her head jerked back and her hand came up to her face. “Hey!” she said, frowning.
“Tess, I’m sorry. You have to stay with me here.” He started separating the wires so he could see how the bomb was put together.
“I’m Special Agent Francie Blake, Ms. Flynn. I need to know where to go. Now.”
Tess pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to her. “Be careful. When he realizes you’re not Rowan, I don’t know what he’ll do, but he won’t be happy. He knew there was a decoy at her house.”
“What?” John asked, pausing briefly in his ass
essment of the bomb. He resumed.
“He watched the house somehow. Saw her running and he told me he knew she wasn’t Rowan. That Rowan had run away. Francie, you can’t go. He’ll kill you.”
“I’m trained, Ms. Flynn.” She was reading the note.
John had a bad feeling. He turned on the mike so he could speak to Collins and the rest of the team. “Collins? Tess said MacIntosh knows about the decoy in Malibu. Saw her running.”
“That can’t be. We had three teams covering the outside of the house, one inside.”
“Boat? The cliffs? I don’t know.” He clipped one wire, bracing himself. Good. The right one.
“How fast can you diffuse the bomb?”
“I think I can get Tess done, but not in three minutes. Correction, ninety seconds. We need that extra ten minutes.”
He snipped another wire and swore. There was a failsafe. He had to start from square one.
“He’s not going to give you ten minutes, John. He’s not,” Tess said. “Go. Please. I—I’ll be okay.”
John ignored his sister’s pleas. “Get out of here, Blake. Stall as best you can. I need at least five minutes for Tess’s vest, then we’ll run like hell.”
“I’m outta here. I’ll give you as much time as I can.” She sprinted back to Roger’s car.
John moved Tess fifty feet from the SUV, but he couldn’t work and talk at the same time, so he focused on the bomb. But a familiar voice came through on his mike.
“Roger, I have to go,” said Rowan.
“No,” Collins said.
John glanced over his shoulder. There she was.
“Dammit, Roger!” Rowan snapped. “When he sees it’s not me, he’s going to detonate the bomb.”
“Blake, go.”
A moment later, Roger’s SUV passed John, heading southwest across the dry field.
“Roger, he’s going to kill her! Call her back.”
“Francie Blake is suited up. She’s going to buy us time to dismantle the bomb, and then—”
“Get out of here, Rowan,” said Roger. “Peterson, get her out of here.”
“Let me go, Quinn!”
“Rowan,” Collins said, “there’s a bomb in that SUV over there. As soon as Ms. Flynn is in the clear, we’re all running.”
The Prey Page 30
