“You were given what you craved—power,” Humphrey said with understanding.
Thurmond nodded.
“Tell me about George Stanworth.”
Thurmond’s brow creased. “The media mogul? I don’t know much about him besides he has a young wife, his daughter runs a lot of the empire, and his granddaughter, Blythe, is popular in the gossip columns. What does he . . .? Oh.”
“You didn’t know he was part of it?”
“No. I didn’t know anyone but Sandra. She told me it was better that way. Sometimes she’d give me orders and I would leave them in a fake rock and someone would pick them up. I guessed that Phylicia Claymore was one of those people after her death.”
“How did you make that connection?” Humphrey asked.
“Sandra was supportive of the rebel leader Phylicia was found dead with.”
“Where has Sandra been?”
Thurmond shook his head. “I don’t know. She said she had a meeting and would be off the grid for a couple days. She told me if anyone needed her to say it was a family emergency. I got her fake identification—”
“Sally, yes, we know.”
“How?” Thurmond asked, wide-eyed.
Humphrey just smiled. “Was it Sandra who ordered the bombing of the president?”
“I don’t know. I just know I knew nothing about it. I didn’t pass any notes, any intelligence, nothing dealing with the bombing.”
“What has Sandra had you looking into recently?”
“Nothing about the president,” Thurmond defended. “Mostly she had me researching catastrophic regulations for various departments.”
Humphrey felt a chill go down his back. “Which departments?”
“The securities and exchange, the energy commission, the environmental protection agency, and the transportation department. Sandra had me compile their regulations and protocols in case of a major disaster. I assumed she had evidence of a terror attack and wanted to be prepared just in case.”
“You’re an idiot,” Jason said, smacking Thurmond’s head hard with his hand.
“Where’s the research you did for her?” Humphrey asked, hardly able to sit still. He had to act quickly.
“On my computer.” Thurmond glanced at his car.
“Give me the keys.” Humphrey snatched them and headed straight for the car. Oh God, this was bad, very bad. Humphrey opened the car and reached for the messenger bag on the passenger seat. Rushing back to Thurmond, he opened the laptop. “What’s the password?”
“I’ll—”
Humphrey slapped Thurmond’s hand away. “No, I’ll do it. What’s the password?”
Thurmond pouted before mumbling, “President Thurmond, all one word.”
Humphrey typed it in and the computer lit up. “Is that your SOS password, too?”
“Yes,” Thurmond sighed. “Look, I told you everything. I swear, I didn’t know—”
“But you knew what Mollia Domini is. It’s a group set on overthrowing the government. That’s treason. Jason, take him away, but don’t kill him. I’m sure the president will want to deal with him publicly.”
Thurmond began to struggle, but Jason used one hand to hold him and another to stab a needle into Thurmond’s neck. Thurmond collapsed in the blink of an eye.
“He won’t remember a thing. Where do you want me to take him?”
“We need a secret jail. I have a feeling we are going to be filling it.”
“Here in DC?” Jason asked.
“Yes. We need these people quickly accessible. Do you have any ideas?”
“I do. I have a buddy who’s a CIA SOG. He’d know where the US black sites are, or were. Usually they’re visible and easy to get to—a home, an office park, something like that. Something you drive by every day and never think anything of it. If we can find an old one, maybe it’s still set up to hold prisoners.”
Humphrey nodded. “Good idea. But you can’t tell them why.”
“Nah, I’ll buy him a beer and shoot the shit with him. I’ll call you when I have more information. In the meantime, I’ll keep this asshole unconscious.”
“And I have to warn the president we are looking at potential attacks to the very foundation of America.”
Humphrey took off with the laptop as Jason stuffed Thurmond in the trunk of Thurmond’s car. Sleep was going to have to wait. With Jason’s delivery of Fitz and Hugo’s bodies via coolers to Stanworth’s front door, Mollia Domini was ready to make a statement. Humphrey just hoped Lizzy and Dalton could stop them before it was too late.
7
It was quickly approaching nighttime when Valeria noticed land. She also noticed she was running out of gas. She looked down at the plastic-coated map. “Madre de hijo de la chingada!” Valeria cursed as she looked at the map. She wasn’t going to make it to Cabo San Lucas. She turned the boat toward the heavily tree-lined Parque Nacional Cabo Pulmo.
It was the flash of light that caught her attention first. Valeria looked over her shoulder at the lone spotlight a good distance back. The light was on a very fast speedboat and was scanning the water. Valeria watched as it swung to the right and to the left before landing right on her and freezing. “Mierda!”
She heard their engines roar to full throttle as she pushed her old boat to the limit. Their light grew brighter as the faster, more powerful boat rushed toward her. The shore was growing nearer. The national park seemed dark just a short ways from the beachside resort. Valeria angled the boat away from the lights. Darkness was her friend tonight as the sky turned from blue to black as the sun sank deeper from the horizon.
Val cut the engine a second before the boat careened onto the beach. She already had her limited supplies of weapons, a compass, and a map stuffed in her pockets and waistband as she leapt from the boat. Her boots hit the soft sand as she took off for the woods. She looked at her watch. She was supposed to be meeting her extraction at this time. She hoped whoever he was, he would quickly figure out she wasn’t there and make his way to the secondary location. Val looked up at the mountaintop that would be her extraction point, if she made it there alive. There was only so much hiding she could do, and come morning, she feared her time would be over.
* * *
Grant looked down at the extraction location. Nothing. No one. Not even some drunk kids on summer vacation. He hovered low and used night vision to see if the woman he was supposed to be rescuing was in hiding. Nothing. Grant felt it in the pit of his stomach. She’d never made it there.
As a PJ, decisions were made in a split second. That was the difference between life and death. And in that one split second, Grant was heading full speed to the second extraction site sixty miles away. He’d be there in under twenty minutes.
Grant flew low over the ocean and just far enough out that people from shore wouldn’t be able to see or hear him. He wouldn’t show on the Mexican radar, but it also meant his extraction target had no idea he was coming. Grant followed the coastline keeping an eye on the GPS tracker that showed him the exact extraction point on the top of a small mountain two-thirds of a mile from the beach. Fifteen minutes. His target just needed to hold on for fifteen more minutes.
* * *
Valeria sprinted across the road with the map in one hand and her compass in the other. Her only weapon left with ammunition in it was slung over her shoulder as she raced across the empty street and into the wild. The ground was hard and slippery with dirt and sand. The vegetation was tough and dry as it attacked her jean-clad legs.
The light from the boat was scanning the area as Valeria pushed her way through the low vegetation and into the trees. Calmly, she listened to the boat come to a stop as she read the map and compass. Looking out into the darkness, she envisioned where her extraction was. It was a run into the woods and then up a mountain. At the sound of men jumping off the boat and into the shallow water, Valeria took off in a sprint into the night.
“Ahi!” one of the men shouted a second before a gunshot exploded from
the beach. She’d been seen.
Valeria looked down at her white long-sleeved shirt. While it had been a lifesaver in the sun, it was like a glowing neon target in the dark. Not bothering to slow down, Valeria ripped the shirt off and left it behind. She tucked the compass and map into her pocket and moved the gun to her hand as she pushed herself faster in the navy blue tank top she had underneath her shirt.
Not being able to risk leading the men straight to the extraction point, Valeria began to zigzag her path to the meeting point. The trees began to get thicker and the vegetation more lush as she reached the bottom of the mountain. She heard the men after her. They hadn’t been thrown off her trail. Checking her gun, Val turned off the safety and began the climb upward.
Her quads throbbed and burned and her back felt as if it were breaking as she kept bent over to better hide herself in the woods. She darted from palm tree to palm tree, making her way upward as her feet slipped and her calves cramped. The tree line began to thin as she worked her way to the top. Bullets ripped into the palm tree next to her, sending spears of palms flying.
Valeria leapt behind the tree, turned, aimed, and fired down the hill before taking off again. She was breathing hard, her body crying out from the torture it had gone through as she pushed forward. Her lungs burned and her head pounded, but she was still aware of the sound of the men closing in on her.
Valeria burst through the tree line and into the open mountaintop. Instead of stopping, she sprinted across the open area. As bullets dug into the ground around her, Valeria dove for the cover of the tree line on the other side of the clearing. She groaned as she landed partially on a rock before rolling to a stop. She didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself. She didn’t have time to think about the pain. She had to move.
Lying on the ground with a rock and a tree as her cover, Valeria steadied her gun and took aim. She didn’t have bullets to waste. She needed a clear shot every time. She slowed her breathing and cleared her head as she took the first shot. The man running across the clearing dropped.
Valeria rolled behind the rock, only slightly higher than her head, as a hail of gunfire rained down on her. She heard shouts as the men began to fan out. She listened as she lay on her back, staring up at the stars and the bullet-riddled palms. The second the gunfire stopped, she rolled to her left and returned fire. If she was going down, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
* * *
Grant saw the gunfire. The flashes from the muzzles of the guns were as bright to him as a flare. He didn’t even need to rely on the Pave Hawk’s night vision. One gun from the far side of the clearing, six or so guns from the other side. Trained to protect his target, Grant turned the helo sharply, putting himself between her and the men firing. He saw the men clearly on his screen as he opened fire.
Grant hovered low and noticed on his night vision display that the lone person had begun to move on the far side of the clearing. He watched as the figure sprinted toward him and laid cover for her. He shot continuously into the woods as he saw his target firing behind her. “Come on, lass,” Grant muttered as the men began to shoot back.
* * *
Valeria tightened her jaw and ran. The helo was right there. She just needed to reach the door. Pain ripped across her arm, sending her slamming face first into the side of the Pave Hawk. Letting out a string of cusswords in multiple languages, Valeria spun and fired with one hand as she used the other to open the copilot’s door.
“Be a good girl and duck, will you?”
Valeria almost argued with the pilot, but when she saw the handgun he was holding out she decided to listen. The man was a freaking mountain and looked like some of the pictures her father had shown her of her distant relatives in the Highlands. He was all wide shoulders, strong neck, and bearded Highlander with a wicked gleam of amusement as he fired three shots over her head.
“There we go. Can you get the door shut?”
“Pòg mo thòin,” Valeria muttered as she shut and locked the door.
Grant laughed a big deep laugh as he pulled the helo up into the air. “I’ll gladly kiss that ass of yours, lass. Bend over.”
Val blinked as she stared at the man hidden behind the helmet and beard. “You speak Scottish Gaelic?”
“Aye. My parents are both from Scotland. What’s more surprising is a Latina speaking it.” Valeria strapped in and really looked at the man who had rescued her. He handled the helicopter expertly even without a copilot. He wasn’t nervous of landing in the middle of a gunfight. There were no signs of the normal adrenaline rush. Shit, she was feeling that rush as she bounced her legs up and down in the red glow of the cockpit. Instead, he calmly flew out over the ocean nice and low. He turned and saw her looking at him and sent her a wink.
Valeria rolled her eyes. Great, another cocky helicopter pilot who thought he was God’s gift. “My father is Scottish. My mother is from Puerto Rico.”
“And what brings you to the lovely Mexican beach tonight?”
Valeria looked him over again. He rescued her, but what exactly did he know? “Can I borrow a phone?”
The man reached down with one hand and tapped the satellite phone plugged into a helicopter adapter so that she could hear through her headset. “Dalton’s number is already in it.”
“Thanks, but I need to call someone else.”
“Boyfriend?” Grant teased.
“No.” Valeria punched in the numbers she had memorized and waited as the phone rang.
“Hello.”
Relief washed over Valeria as she heard her team leader’s voice. Dalton may have put together this rescue, but Lizzy was whom she reported to. It was hard not to sag with relief, knowing she was going back to her team. “It’s me.”
“Val? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re shot,” Grant spoke as Val snapped her head in his direction to glare at him.
“Get off my call,” she growled.
“You’re shot?” Lizzy asked instead of yelling at the pilot.
“It’s a flesh wound,” Val muttered as she looked for a way to disconnect Grant from the call.
“That it is. But it’ll need stitches. I’ll sew her up right for you.”
Valeria shot daggers at the pilot as she looked to switch off his headphones.
“Val,” Lizzy said, getting her attention, “let Grant take care of you, and it’s okay if he listens. There was a bombing. Birch was the target. He’s been in the hospital, and I don’t know much except he has resumed control of the country after getting medical clearance. We’ve just arrived in DC and will be meeting with Humphrey soon. You need to get to DC now.”
Val saw Grant look over at her with curiosity but didn’t say anything before looking back over the endless black ocean. “I’m sure Tate can step up to take care of things until I get there.”
“Val, Tate’s in the hospital bed right next to Birch.” Val felt her blood drain. She might give Tate shit for being a girly girl, but when the cards were on the table and Val needed someone to vouch for her, she’d sent Manuel’s man to Tate to verify that Val was no longer with the DEA.
“What?” Valeria asked, making sure she heard Lizzy correctly.
“Tate and Birch were on a date. Mollia Domini blew up the restaurant. Birch suffered a collapsed lung and internal bleeding. He was unconscious through most of it. Tate suffered a shattered tibia. Humphrey said it was horrendous. With a broken leg, Tate dragged herself over to Birch and protected him. She was shot once as well before agents and police arrived. She saved them both,” Lizzy explained as Val let her head fall back and took a deep breath.
“It’s okay, lassie. Your friends are alive and safe,” Grant said softly through the headphones.
“They are,” Lizzy confirmed. “But we need boots on the ground so we’re having Grant fly you to Laughlin Air Force Base in Texas before catching a plane to Andrews Air Base here in DC.”
“I’ll need to refuel,”
Grant said simply, not even blinking as he was already changing the direction of the helo.
“When?” Lizzy asked.
“An hour from now.”
“We’ll take care of it. The Pave has the ability to refuel in air, correct?” Lizzy asked as Val heard Dalton telling her it could. “Dalton says we’ll have a refueling crew out to you by the end of the hour. Alex will be setting up fake identifications. Just go along with whatever they say when you land. You’ll both immediately be transported to a plane headed home.”
“Excuse me, did you say both of us?” Grant asked with something close to surprise.
“Yes. Valeria, fill Grant in and see if he wants to help. If he doesn’t, then kill him.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “As if this wee lassie—”
Valeria had her knife to his throat before he could finish the sentence. “Don’t call me that.”
“I told you you shouldn’t call her that,” Valeria heard Lizzy chuckle over the headphones.
Grant didn’t look fazed at having a knife at his throat, and Valeria wondered if a gunfight in the middle of the night with a drug cartel and having a knife to his throat didn’t faze him, what did?
“Does this have to do with Dalton and the South Seas?” Grant asked instead of shoving her knife away.
“Yes.”
“I’m in.”
“Good,” Lizzy said. “See you both at the bar. Get home safe.”
The call disconnected and Valeria stared at the man who rescued her. “You’re in and you haven’t even heard what’s going on.”
Shattered Lies Page 5
