by Desiree Holt
“Damn it.” Mike smacked his hand on the table. “We should have had him do that to begin with.”
“We had no reason to expect the hostages weren’t there.”
“Because you depended too much on my abilities and their accuracy,” Kat apologized. “I’m very, very sorry. I did tell you from the beginning remote viewing is only eighty to ninety percent accurate. And if things happen quickly sometimes it’s not possible to adjust to pick up changes. And I might have sensed them being there because traces of their presence remain. But this is the strongest I’ve felt about this since we started. And the best images I’d gotten.”
Mike gently brushed his knuckles across her cheekbone. “It’s all right, kitten. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
“I know I told you my powers had been…compromised,” she fretted. “Except now the situation was fixed, I thought… Anyway, I know I can do this. Please.”
“All right, then.” Dan pushed back from the table. “Let’s get to it.”
With the dishes cleared away, they again darkened the room and left only the only lamp lit. Kat asked for a glass of water and Mike placed one close to her right hand but far enough away so she wouldn’t spill it.
Dan handed her the photos and she arranged them in front of her, along with a pad of paper on which to draw Then she closed her eyes and let her mind reach out. Again, somewhat blurred, she saw the stretch of the marijuana field, the glimpses of trees. Then it disappeared to be replaced by a thick copse of trees. The trees wavered, like aspen limbs in a wind. Kat blinked and there it was. The freeze frame. Just as clear as if she was viewing it through the lens of a camera. A hut similar to the one she’d seen before, surrounded on all sides by trees. No marijuana fields here. A window high on one wall. And two guards, leaning casually against the wall on either side of a wooden door, guns cradled loosely in their hands.
Kat drew as fast as she could, not concerned with the neatness of her sketch, only with accuracy and trying to get as many details down before the images faded away.
Not yet, not yet, she shouted inside her brain, as the image began to waver and fade.
Then it was gone and she leaned back in the chair, exhilarated at what she’d seen. Rick pulled the drapes open and she blinked against the blaze of sunlight. Sipping the ice water, she tried to gather her thoughts to explain what she’d seen.
“If you sit back down at the table,” she told the others, “it will be easier for you to see this and for me to explain what I’ve drawn.”
She took them through it, pulling out as many details as she could, answering their questions to the best of her ability.
“Will you have to wait until tonight to go in for them?” Kat asked, trying to hold back her anxiety.
“It would be the optimum thing to do,” Mike answered, “but we may be running out of time here.”
“Now that we’ve got something to go on,” Mark said, “wouldn’t this be a good time to call Delaware and rattle his cage? See what’s happening on their end?”
“I agree,” Dan said. “Why don’t you do that while I call Andy and order him to use every trick he can to steal the satellite images we want. This time we’ll make sure there are people inside.”
* * * * *
Shit! Hell and damnation!
Anthony Delaware closed his cell phone with a vicious snap and shoved it in his pocket. He’d known Phoenix wouldn‘t leave him alone indefinitely. Not with their connection to one of the hostages. The call wasn’t what bothered him. It was Mark Halloran’s reaction to the news they were getting ready to pay the ransom.
No further questions. Nothing about the release of the hostages. None of the usual questions he’d ask in their situation. That meant only one thing. They’d learned who the kidnapper was, where he was keeping the hostages and they were mounting their own rescue mission.
He’d told his boss this was likely to happen. Nothing he said would keep them out of this, arresting them would only create a huge clusterfuck and he knew in his bones by the time he got through he and the entire FBI would look like incompetent asses. His only piece of good luck was the fact that these guys didn’t want publicity, didn’t like it and didn’t seek it. So whatever went down would remain hidden as much as possible.
That still didn’t solve his immediate problems. Where the hell were the hostages, who had kidnapped them and what assurance did they have of getting them back? And finally, best of all, which one of the three jackasses sitting at the table in Pelley’s conference room was the poison in the pie?
“All right, everyone.” He took his seat at the head of the table. “I think we’re about to make a huge mistake but we don’t appear to have a choice.”
“I want to know why you’ve had me dragged here,” Rand Prescott demanded. “It’s bad enough I’ve had one of your agents breathing down my neck for three days. Now I’m forcibly dragged from my hotel suite and told I have to stay for…well, no one said for how long. I know we have a crisis situation here but I still have businesses to run.”
“I’m sure you do,” the agent told him. “But I’d like to think Eli Wright’s life and that of his family and Miss Culhane takes a little precedence.”
“Bag it, Prescott.” Ryan Post’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “None of us has a choice here and you know it.”
Since Prescott had arrived with his escort, Delaware had watched him downing coffee liberally laced with aged brandy from Ron Pelley’s well-stocked bar.
“I want to know who that was on the phone,” Pelley demanded.
“No one you need to be concerned with.” Delaware was damned if he’d give the information about the conversation to these people. Things were bad enough as it was. He looked at his watch. “It’s almost time to leave. I think we can safely assume these people will use the same process they did yesterday.”
“How are we supposed to follow a motorcycle?” one of the agents wanted to know.
“We’re going to try air surveillance,” he answered. “I called my boss and he pulled some strings to make this happen. With all the military around here, no one’s going to think twice about their helicopters flying over the city. They’ll start practice runs at ten o’clock and keep it up until we find out where the motorcycle gets to. They’ll let us know and we’ll take it from there.”
“That sounds very chancy to me,” another of the agents commented.
Delaware slammed his hand on the table, his nerves finally getting to him. “Do you have a better plan? If not, then just do what you’re told.”
Silence dropped over the room. For long moments no one spoke. Finally Ron Pelley cleared his throat.
“The additional bearer bonds should be here any minute,” he said, rising from the table. “I’ll go get the new package together.”
He headed for his office. One of the agents rose also and trailed behind him.
Delaware swallowed the bitter taste in his throat. No matter what he did, there was no way this could have a good outcome.
* * * * *
When Pedro and Enrique brought their morning ration of water and tortillas, the hostages had just risen from a fitful night of on-and-off sleep and washed themselves as best they could in the disaster of a bathroom. Mari helped Sydney clean the cut on her face, but they had little to work with, the cut had become infected and she was worried about what would happen with it.
Eli had developed some horrendous-looking bruises from the jabs with the butt of the rifle and he was having trouble keeping down even the terrible tortillas. Mari hoped he didn’t have any internal damage from it. Her own head continued to ache but either it was subsiding or she was just getting used to it.
And Lissa. Lord, she’d been so good, so strong but she was only seventeen and this situation was becoming almost more than she could cope with. It was especially difficult for her to see what was happening to her parents.
Hurry, Kat. Bring those men here quickly. I don’t know how much longer we can
hold out.
“Eat up,” Pedro told them. “This may be your last meal with us.” When everyone froze in place, he laughed, the mean sound they’d grown familiar with. “You may go home today, gringos. If all goes according to plan.” Then he looked from one to the other. “But we have not yet decided in what condition to return you. Your friends thought they could outsmart El Jefe yesterday. That does not mean good things for you. El Jefe is a man with a temper.”
He laughed again, then backed out with Enrique, slamming the door into place after him. The clunk of the wood across the door sounded like a death knell to the hostages.
Eli let out a slow, painful breath. “We aren’t beaten yet. We’ll find a way out of this. I promise.” He looked at the window and then at his daughter. “Come over here, sweetie. I’m going to boost you up on my shoulders. I want you to tell me what you see.”
It was an excruciating exercise, with Eli stifling his groans and trying not to stagger under even the slight weight of his daughter. Mari bit her lip as she watched them.
Hurry, Kat. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Chapter Fifteen
After they’d packed everything up and just before they checked out of the hotel, Dan called the Wright pilots and asked them to hang on a little longer. Then he persuaded them to take part in a little charade at the airfield.
Just in case anyone was watching, they all put on a show. Mike and Ed engaged the manager in a loud conversation about winds and weather, asked him about traffic condition heading east and made sure anyone hanging around the terminal heard both of them announcing their intention to head back to San Antonio.
“You mean you’re leaving without finding out what happened to your friend?” one of the pilots asked. The two of them had arrived fifteen minutes earlier and were standing around drinking coffee.
“Sorry,” Mike said. “We’ve decided to leave it all to the FBI. They’re better equipped to handle this.”
“What about your friend?” the manager asked Mike. “Weren’t you looking for someone in particular?”
Mike pulled Kat close to him and hugged her. “We decided this way is best. But we’ll be in constant touch with the Feds.”
Dan turned to one of the pilots. “You have our cell phone numbers. Let us hear the minute you find out anything.”
The man nodded.
They drove the SUV to the hangar where Mike and Ed had parked the plane and helo. Again they made a show of unloading their luggage and stowing it in the plane. Troy drove the SUV back to the terminal. Left the keys with the manager and jogged back to the hangar.
“Isn’t it dangerous doing this in daylight?” Kat asked.
“Yes but we’ve done this before,” Dan reassured her. He gave her arm a friendly squeeze. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it done.”
Mark’s cell phone rang and he walked away from the commotion to answer it. The conversation was short and when he returned to the group his face was grimmer than usual.
“Oh my god,” Kat said. “What’s wrong? Did something bad happen?”
“Bad for some people,” he told her, then looked at everyone. “Andy earned his keep today. He decided to run a credit card check on our three suspects and see what he came up with. He was looking for anything that would tell him who made the deal here. Prescott’s in big trouble with the SEC, which we knew, and he’s trying to hide it from Eli Wright because it involves the two companies they partnered in. Ryan Post’s spa chain is leaking red ink and he’s had some interesting visitors to the one in Mexico. And Ron Pelley…well, we know about him.”
“None of this is new,” Mike said impatiently.
“But this is. I had him text this to me so everyone could actually read it.”
He held the phone so everyone could read the screen as he scrolled through the text message. They all stared at each as the last word disappeared.
Dan finally said it for them all. “Son of a bitch.”
* * * * *
The military helicopters began filling the air space as the convoy left Wright International Headquarters. Pelley tried not to keep looking up at them as he sat on the low stone wall in front of the Alamo. He clutched the package tightly as he watched for the motorcycle. The message had said same arrangements, so he was prepared for a snatch and grab, just like the day before.
When this is over I’m going someplace to hide and never show my face again. How did things get so badly botched up? How did this mess happen? We’ll all be lucky to get out of it with our skins in one piece.
He watched the traffic, ears tuned for the high whine of a motorcycle engine. It was there almost before he heard it, sleek and black, zooming along the inner road. He loosened his grip on the padded envelope and as the motorcycle slowed in front of him, held it out to the outstretched hand. The rider grabbed it, increased the engine roar and sped off.
Pelley gritted his teeth to keep from looking up to see if one of the helicopters had caught the action. He didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved. He only felt numb.
Now what?
He sat in place as instructed until one of the men from the conference room walked up to him and took his arm.
“Let’s go, Mr. Pelley. Time to get back to the office.”
All he could think as he let himself be led to a waiting car was, God, I hope they don’t kill the hostages.
* * * * *
Javier waited until the sleek Gulfstream and the massive Black Hawk had lifted off and headed east before hiding behind the hangar and pulling out his cell phone.
“They are gone,” he told Nando.
“What do you mean?”
“They left. That’s what I mean. They are all headed back to San Antonio.”
Nando was silent for a moment. “Something doesn’t sound right here. Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Javier insisted. “I heard them myself and saw them leave. I watched until they were out of sight.”
“It doesn’t seem likely that people like them would just walk away from this. Not when they’re personally involved.”
“They said they were leaving it to the FBI,” Javier repeated.
“Now I really am suspicious,” Nando snorted. “The Phoenix Agency doesn’t hand off to anyone. There’s something wrong here.”
“I’m only telling you what I heard and saw.”
“Keep your eyes open. See what else happens. Call me the very minute anything new catches your eyes and ears.”
* * * * *
The phone in Rip’s pocket vibrated. He looked around the conference room where they were all gathered again, excused himself and headed for the bathroom.
“I can’t talk,” he whispered when he pressed the call back number. “They have everyone at this place and we’re surrounded by FBI agents.”
“My messenger called that he has the money and there were no tricks,” Nando said. “That is good. Is everything all right there?”
Rip was tempted to tell him about the helicopters but he didn’t have the stomach to hear Nando’s ranting and raving. He also didn’t want to be responsible for four revenge killings. He felt sick enough as it was. Anyway, he trusted that Nando had foolproof arrangements.
“Fine, fine. When are you releasing the hostages?”
“As soon as the money gets here.” Nando’s malicious laugh echoed over the connection. “Not too much longer, since they didn’t try to delay our messenger. Patience, mi amigo.”
“They damn well better be released soon.” Someone knocked on the door and called his name. “I have to go. Get those people back here. And be sure my money is transferred.”
The laugh again. “You might think you’ve grown a conscience but it’s still all about the money. I will call you when the hostages are on their way.”
“Mr. Pelley?” a voice shouted through the door. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m coming right now.”
* * * * *
They parked the Gulfstream in the hangar at an a
irfield owned by a friend of Mike’s. It was located about half an hour northeast of San Diego. They’d used enough crazy maneuvers that they hoped to fool anyone watching them, then slipped beneath the radar to make their landing.
As soon as the plane was locked down, they began their preparations on the Black Hawk. To Kat’s eye they were doing much the same things they’d done the night before, with one exception. Dan Romeo unzipped a canvas bag that looked like a rectangular computer case and flipped it open. Inside, precisely held in place, were pieces of what Kat knew had to be a very powerful gun. A rifle, not a handgun. Dan began removing the pieces and assembling the weapon with quiet efficiency. She watched him check each piece carefully, then assemble it with quick, practiced movements.
Pointing it toward the back of the cabin, away from everyone, finger off the trigger, he sighted through the scope on top. Apparently he sensed Kat looking at him because he turned his head, lowering the rifle. And grinned.
“One of my personal favorites,” he told her. “It’s a stealth optimized sniper rifle made by LaRue Tactical in Leander, Texas. A little town you can hardly find on the map. This,” he pointed to the case, “is the brand new covert rifle case they just came out with.” He moved the gun in his lap and pointed to a place high on the grip. “The Phoenix. Mark LaRue etched it into the material for me.”
“I’m impressed,” she told him. Then she gave him a weak smile. “I think.”
“Dan was a sniper with the Marines,” Mike said into her ear. “And a damn good one.”
She looked at Dan again and realized his face was completely expressionless. “It’s a career that ages you fast,” was all he said.
“We’re going to need a sniper?” she asked Mike.
“If there are only the two guards you saw at the hut, Dan’s going to take them out and clear the way for us. Then we’ll be on the lookout for any others we need to deal with. The dog too.”
