by Radclyffe
Jane laughed. “I’m afraid you aren’t giving the orders, Mr. Powell.”
“If you would look at the command car,” the president said quietly, “I think you’ll change your mind.”
Jane sighted through her rifle scope at the center of the train. Her drone sat atop it, and she could clearly see its payload. “What—?”
A tall, dark-haired woman and a man stepped down from the car into the snow. Robbie’s hands were cuffed in front of him. Ice stole through her blood. She knew the woman. Cameron Roberts. She’d held Roberts captive for twelve hours, and then Roberts had killed her father. She focused on the center of Roberts’s forehead.
“We have your brother,” the president said. “You can’t detonate that drone unless you want him to die with a lot of other innocent people.”
“We are prepared to die for the cause,” Jane said, but the words were acid in her mouth.
“No one has to die. Remove the drones and surrender. You and your family will be safe.”
Jane cut the connection. Lies. She didn’t need to hear his lies. If she killed Roberts right now, they’d still have Robbie. If she detonated the second drone, Robbie would die, but so would Roberts. Then the president would know she was not bluffing and she wouldn’t bargain. He would have to set Jennifer free. Robbie would die but Jennifer would live.
Her father’s words sounded loudly in her head.
We all must be prepared to sacrifice. Even those we love.
Robbie stared up toward the hillside, his eyes searching for her. He couldn’t possibly see her from that distance, but she felt as if he did. Could she trade Jennifer for him?
A brother for a sister? She had only seconds to make the choice.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Go, go, go!” Stark shouted.
The door at the rear of the car slid open and a blast of icy wind struck Blair in the face. Tears welled in her eyes, blinding her for an instant. A hand gripped her jacket in the center of her back, half guiding, half propelling her forward. She focused on the ground a few feet below and jumped down from the platform into knee-deep snow. Her body was instantly numb. Brock charged ahead, forging a path, and she followed him on autopilot, thinking of nothing except placing one foot in front of the other. The body armor encasing her chest was a lead fist constricting her heart. Was Cam somewhere close by, safe? Or on her way to face another madman?
The helicopter emerged from the thick soup of fog, a prehistoric beast rising out of the underworld. The rotors kicked up sheets of swirling ice, and she stumbled forward with one arm shielding her face. The side doors slid open and figures in armor, bristling with weapons, appeared in the doorway. Then they were reaching down and she up to them. Her feet left the ground, and her body flew the few yards into the helicopter. When she got her balance on the ice-slick floor, she wiped moisture from her eyes and peered around frantically. The ball of terror in her midsection loosened a fraction. Her father was beside her. “Where is everyone else? Dad, where is Luce?”
“There,” he shouted, and she looked where he pointed.
Two agents lifted Luce into the helicopter as the floor tilted and the helicopter rose. Blair gripped Stark’s arm for balance and leaned forward into the open doorway. The train rapidly grew smaller as they picked up speed. The drones perched atop the train cars, the one she’d been in and another one a few cars down, looking like primeval predators from a science fiction movie. Her heart seized. She braced for the explosion, the fireball erupting, the train engulfed in flames. The end of her world.
“It’s going to be all right,” her father shouted, his arm coming around her shoulders. His words were nearly lost in the whir of the rotors and the clatter of the engines.
The door rolled shut and she pulled away, needing to see out the small portholes, unable to breathe, unable to think of anything except Cam. And so many others. The train looked like an abandoned toy in a sea of white.
And then they were over the top of a mountain and the train disappeared. She kept watching, waiting for the flare of red to rise above the purple crests. Sensation returned to her fingers and toes, and her mind started working again.
“What about the others?” she shouted to Stark. “What’s happening on the train?”
“No word yet,” Stark said.
Frustration choked her. She was more a captive here than when she’d been trapped in the train car with a bomb over her head. She knew she was supposed to be safe now, but all she wanted was to escape. She recognized the feeling, she’d had it all her life. But she knew better now. She took a deep breath, searched for what she could do until she had word from Cam.
Lucinda sat on a jump seat, her arms wrapped around her torso, her face pale but composed. Her father was huddled with Evyn Daniels, who had a headset pressed to one ear. Evyn was relaying something to the president that Blair, isolated in a roaring tunnel of silence, couldn’t hear. She crouched next to Lucinda and took her hand.
“All right?” she shouted.
Lucinda nodded and leaned close. “Pissed off.”
“Me too.”
Lucinda squeezed her fingers. “We will get them.”
“I know.”
“And Cam will be fine. She’s the best there is.”
Blair swallowed hard. Cam was everything. “I know.”
Ten minutes later the helicopter circled in a wide arc and set down behind a sprawling log cabin in the foothills, surrounded by evergreens and ringed with familiar black SUVs. The door opened and agents poured toward the helicopter like a black tide, weapons in hand. Stark helped her out of the helicopter and jumped down beside her.
“Where are we?” Blair called as she raced toward the house in the middle of a scrum of agents.
“Safe house,” Stark yelled back.
“What about the train?”
“Command center is inside. Come on.” Stark pushed open a set of french doors and sprinted toward a wide hallway on the far side of a rough-stone-floored foyer.
Blair scarcely noticed her surroundings. All that mattered now was the train.
*
Cam heard the helicopter lift away. Blair and the president were safe. The play was in motion. All that remained was to see it through. No second guesses, no second chances. If she’d misjudged Jane Doe, a lot of people would die.
“Come on,” she said to Gary Williams. “Back up. We’re getting back into the train. She’s seen you now.”
“It won’t matter,” he said dully. “She won’t give up.”
“No,” Cam said. “I don’t think she will. But the game is over for today. She won’t sacrifice you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re family.” Cam gripped his collar and pushed him ahead of her into the command car. “And that’s her Achilles heel.”
He snorted. “You really think you understand what makes her tick?”
Cam thought of Blair and Andrew Powell and Lucinda Washburn and Paula Stark. Of what she would do, what she would give, to keep them safe. “I know I do.”
*
Jane watched through the high-powered scope as Robbie climbed back into the train. He looked frightened and younger than she remembered. He looked resigned too, as if he knew she would not back down. She had never relented when they were growing up and he’d lagged behind in training, always pushing him to try harder, practice more, be stronger. She’d never had to push Jenn—she’d had to struggle to keep up with her sister. Robbie had always believed she and her father had loved Jenn more than him. Maybe he’d been right. None of that mattered now.
Robbie disappeared, and Jane knew she’d seen him for the last time. She set the rifle aside and picked up the remote.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Jane kept the rocky outcroppings rising from the pristine white slopes like bad teeth between her and the train in the valley below. The rifle slung across her back was a comforting weight. She’d set the delays on the drones for forty-five minutes and left
her backpack and the rest of her supplies behind. She could cover a lot of distance in forty-five minutes, and if she didn’t make it out of the canyon before the feds descended in force, she wouldn’t need food. All she’d need was ammo, and she had plenty of that.
She’d been training all her life for action like this, and within minutes she was over the ridge and out of sight of the train. They’d follow her, once they realized she’d left before the drones were activated. But they wouldn’t send a team out immediately. They’d think she was debating what to do, probably expecting her to take time to choose between her brother and her sister. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know the way the three of them had been raised. But then, she hadn’t really known herself until Roberts had forced her to declare who she really was. She angled upward to the road, barely discernable now under the accumulated snow, and took a calculated risk. The chance of a vehicle traveling along this road was slight, but there was always a chance. If she could commandeer a vehicle she might still get away.
She hadn’t heard another helicopter since one had dropped from the sky a hundred yards from the train. They must have evacuated the president when they’d made the play with Robbie, but they weren’t chancing an all-out assault with the drones still in play. Her window was shrinking fast, though. Before long, the only vehicles traveling this stretch would be in pursuit of her, but for now, she had a clear path. She kept close to the cover of the trees along the shoulder and ran on through the gathering storm.
She’d traveled three miles when the sound of an oncoming vehicle forced her to jump behind a cluster of trees. She shouldered her rifle and sighted on the curve in the road ahead. A familiar red Jeep careened into view, spewing snow as it cut a path toward her. She stepped out and Hooker skidded to a stop.
Jane threw open the passenger door and jumped in. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s getting late. I figured you might need a ride.” He did a 180 in the middle of the road and slewed around the curve the way he’d come. “Besides, there’s nothing to do in that one-horse town.” He glanced at her as she pulled a water bottle from her inside pocket and drank deeply. “Mission abort?”
“Yes,” Jane said, staring out the windshield but seeing nothing. Nothing except Robbie’s frightened face. He was her little brother. He trusted her.
“They on your tail?”
She glanced at her chronometer. “They will be in about seven minutes.”
Hooker whistled. “Guess we better find us a busier road pretty quick so we can blend in.”
“Take a left a mile up the road. You’ll hit the interstate five miles farther on.”
“Huh. You think of everything,” Hooker said.
“Not everything,” Jane said softly and closed her eyes. She’d never expected to be faced with choosing between the last two people she loved.
*
Before Dusty opened her eyes, before she knew where she was or why she felt as if she’d been flattened by a tank, she knew she was going to be okay. Atlas’s breath blew across her throat. He was keeping her safe. And something else, something new and deeply comforting. Warm fingers gripped her hand. She recognized the softness and strength of that hand. Eyes still closed, she said, “Did I miss all the action?”
“Most of it,” Viv said quietly. “How are you feeling?”
Dusty looked up and just as she’d hoped—dreamed—Viv was there, smiling down at her. Viv’s eyes looked worried but her smile was brilliant. All Dusty wanted was for Viv to keep smiling at her like that, pretty much forever. “I’m okay. Headache. Shoulder hurts like a son of a gun, but I’m mostly good.” She turned her head carefully. So far so good. “Atlas—you okay, boy?”
“He’s perfect.” Viv scratched behind his ears. “He’s just the best, aren’t you, big handsome boy.”
“Hey, hey,” Dusty said, laughing. “Stop spoiling him.”
“I can spoil him. He’s been looking after you.”
Images of the drone jumped into sharp focus. Dusty glanced around the empty car. She didn’t recognize it. “What’s happening? What about the bombs?”
“I’m not sure. They just evacuated Blair Powell. So I think—”
“Why are you still here?” Dusty tried to sit up and her head swam. “You should get off this—”
“Don’t do that,” Viv warned, pressing down on Dusty’s good shoulder. “You need to lie still.”
“You have to get off this train. It’s not safe. Let me u—”
The connecting door slid open and Dusty reached for her weapon.
“Stand down, Agent Nash,” a man in a flak jacket said. “We’ve got this.”
Dusty recognized Mac Phillips from Egret’s detail. She relaxed and let out a breath. “Hey, Mac. What the hell is happening?”
“The UNSUB is playing chicken with the director.” Mac grinned. “Want to place a bet on who’s winning?”
“Hell, no,” Dusty said. “POTUS?”
“Safe house. We’ve been slowly relocating civilians to the rear of the train, out of range of the second drone.”
Two more agents and the first doctor crowded in behind Mac Phillips.
“Agent Nash—Captain Wes Masters,” Mac said. “The captain needs to look you over, Nash.”
“I’m good,” Dusty said.
Viv exclaimed, “No, you’re not.”
“How about I decide?” Wes leaned over and shined a light in Dusty’s eyes. “How are you doing, Agent?”
“Fine, Captain.”
“Vision okay?”
“A little blurry earlier. Clear now.”
The doctor asked her a few more questions and straightened. “As soon as we’re cleared to evac, we’ll be giving you a lift to the ER.”
Viv asked, “Is there something wrong?”
Wes smiled. “Precautionary. I want a CT scan to be sure that head bump didn’t shake things up too much on the inside. And we need to x-ray that shoulder.”
Atlas growled softly when one of the agents moved closer. Mac raised a brow at Dusty. “What about the dog?”
“Radio Dave Ochiba to come and get him,” Dusty said. “Atlas will go with him if I tell him to.”
Mac nodded, contacted Ochiba, and told him he was needed when he was free to move around. “As soon as Ochiba gets your partner here settled, you’re out of here.”
“I’m going too,” Viv said.
Mac gave her an appraising look. “You’re press corps, aren’t you?”
Viv smiled down at Dusty and grasped her hand again. “Yes, but this is personal.”
“Yeah,” Dusty said, not caring who was watching. “Very personal.”
*
Cam regarded Gary Williams. With his well-cut hair and bland good looks, he could have been any of a dozen reporters on the White House beat. Except that he sat on a bench in the lounge next to the command car in his dark suit pants, wet shoes, and wrinkled pale blue dress shirt with his hands cuffed in front of him. Two ERT agents stood guard at either end of the car. “What’s your real name?”
He stared straight ahead.
“Gary is actually your last name. Youngest child of Augustus Gary. How about your first name?”
His jaw clenched.
“We’ve got three assault teams readying to go after your sister. You might want to take this chance to reason with her.” Cam held up a phone. “Tell me about your plans to attack the president, who’s behind it, and you’ll earn a call.”
His dark eyes flicked to Cam. “She won’t change her mind.”
“I know the three of you didn’t plan this on your own—I doubt it was even your father’s idea. Where is the money coming from? Who’s pulling the strings behind the scenes?”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Now is the time to help your sister,” Cam said quietly. “She’s not going to win this fight, but she doesn’t have to die. Help me so you can help her.”
He shook his head. “She wouldn’t thank me.”
; “Not today, maybe, but—”
Tom Turner burst in from the adjoining car. “The drones are active.”
Cam turned her back on Gary Williams. The time for testing the field with pawns had passed. The battle was on. “Deploy the assault teams.”
Chapter Thirty
Blair paced in front of the window fronting the cabin’s wide front porch. Someone had started a fire in the stone hearth on the far wall, and the room smelled of sweet pinewood smoke. The place would have been rustic-homey under any other circumstance. Two agents holding assault weapons stood on either side of the walkway leading up to the cabin. Paula was still in the command center in the adjoining room, monitoring what little communication was coming from the train. Her father and Lucinda were in a makeshift office at the far end of the hall.
Communication techs from the local Secret Service office had arrived and set up a secure room to keep her father in contact with DC. No one knew what was going on out here, and no one ever would. As far as anyone knew, her father had simply chosen to leave the train for a little private R&R. Now he was probably carrying on business as usual.
Business as usual. That’s what Cam was doing now too. Putting her life on the line again. Risking herself for others. Blair gave herself a mental shake. She’d never really believed that a change in Cam’s job description would change Cam or what she felt compelled to do in the line of duty. Added to that, Lucinda would never let Cam get very far away from the president’s security needs, and Cam would never want to be very far away. All that meant their life would never be without risk. She could never wake up in the morning and not feel a few seconds of fear that something would happen to threaten everything that mattered to her.
She turned away from the window, annoyed with herself. None of this was news. Cam, her father, Paula, Lucinda, every agent back on the train or here at the cabin did what they needed to do day in and day out because that’s what they had signed on for. She might not have had a choice about her life when she was only her father’s child, drawn into the tangle of politics and pressure that came with being the first daughter. But she’d married Cam with her eyes wide open and her heart as well. Lucinda was right. Cam was the best there was. And she trusted Cam to take care of herself and the love they shared.
