Operation: Midnight Guardian

by Linda Castillo

  The cut was so inconsequential when her life was destroyed that Mattie choked back a hysterical laugh. “Like that’s going to make everything all better.”

  “Lady, I’m just doing my job the best way I know how. If you’re as smart as your file claims you are, you’ll make it easier on both of us and cooperate.”

  “I will play no role in the ruination of my life.”

  “You should have thought about that before you got involved with those thugs.” He jammed his thumb in the direction from which they’d come. “If those bastards get their hands on you, you will find out the true meaning of brutality.”

  “I’d rather die than spend the rest of my life in prison.”

  “Keep it up and you’ll get your wish.” He looked at his watch. “Now let’s move out.”

  He set a grueling pace as they trekked toward the pick-up location. Mattie felt as if she were walking toward the firing squad. She couldn’t believe she’d blown her only chance of escape.

  Within minutes, the Whop! Whop! Whop! of the chopper’s rotor blades rent the air. Through the trees she spotted the large craft perched on a rocky ridge in a clearing. The fuselage was yellow with black lettering.

  They were twenty yards away when a man in khaki pants and a parka opened the chopper’s hatch and stepped out. “About damn time,” he said, his eyes going from her captor to her and lingering.

  Mattie looked away, wondering if this would be the last time she saw trees, the last time she breathed in mountain air and freedom.

  “She give you any problems?” the man asked.

  Her captor gave her a measuring look. “None I couldn’t handle.”

  “Get her in the chopper. Pilot’s RTG. Let’s see if we can beat this cold front.”

  Her captor took her arm and led her toward the chopper. She was about to step inside when a gunshot stopped her dead in her tracks. She spun to see the man in khakis crumple to the ground.

  “Holy hell! Rusty!”

  Her captor went for his weapon, but he wasn’t fast enough. A third man in a flight suit emerged from the chopper leveling a deadly looking weapon at her captor’s chest.

  “Drop the gun, Cutter, or I swear you’ll join him.”

  THERE WAS NOTHING Sean Cutter hated more than a traitor. That deep-seated hatred boiled inside him as he stared at the CIA chopper pilot he’d known and trusted for the better part of his professional life.

  “What the hell are you doing, Meeks?”

  “What do you think?” Grimacing, the pilot jumped from the chopper to the ground, his eyes flashing from Cutter to Mattie.

  “I think you’re selling your soul,” Cutter said.

  “What can I say? They pay better than Uncle Sam.” Meeks crossed to Mattie and licked his lips. She cringed when he ran a fingertip from her chin, down her neck to her shoulder. “I don’t know why The Jaguar wants you so badly, but he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  “How much?” Cutter asked.

  “A million and change.”

  “Generous.”

  “I thought so. A hell of a lot more than a CIA pilot will ever see in his lifetime.”

  “Too bad you won’t live to spend it.” Cutter edged closer, but Meeks smiled and set his finger against the trigger. “Don’t get any closer, Sean. You know I’ll put a bullet in you.”

  Cutter glanced down at the man lying on the ground in a widening pool of blood. “Evidently you don’t have any qualms about taking out one of your own.”

  “Not one of my own. I’m a free agent now.”

  “You’re a coward and a traitor.”

  The pilot smiled. “But very rich.”

  “So tell me, Meeks. How does this work? You kill two federal agents and deliver a DOD scientist to a terrorist group? You think they’re really going to pay you?”

  “I’ve already got half of it.”

  “And you think the CIA is going to walk away and let you live happily ever after?”

  “I’ll be able to afford to get lost anywhere in the world.”

  “There’s no place remote enough on this earth that will keep the CIA from finding you.”

  “Unless they think I’m dead.” His eyes flicked to the pistol at Sean’s hip. “Give me your weapon, GPS unit and radio.”

  When Cutter hesitated, the other man pulled back the slide on the weapon. “Do it or I’ll take out your kneecaps first.”

  Hoping to buy time, Cutter pulled the radio and GPS unit from his belt and tossed both to the ground.

  Meeks stepped forward and crushed the radio beneath his boot. “The gun, too, Cutter. Stop wasting my time.”

  Relinquishing his weapon was the one thing Cutter would not do. He knew Meeks was going to kill him, then deliver this scientist to a dangerous terrorist cell. If he wanted to prevent both of those things from happening he was going to have to make a move.

  Putting his hand on his weapon, he stepped closer. “You son of a bitch.”

  Cutter’s nerves jigged when the other man shifted the gun to his chest. “Nice and slow. The gun. Now.”

  Cutter went for his weapon, brought up the muzzle. But he wasn’t fast enough. The other man fired. The bullet struck him in the chest like a baseball bat slamming in a homerun. The breath left his lungs in a sound that was half roar, half curse. He reeled backward, lost his footing. The next thing he knew his back hit the ground. Pain radiated through his chest. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Dizziness descended like a fast-acting narcotic.

  Through the haze of pain Cutter was aware of the pilot pointing the weapon at the woman. “Get in the chopper, bitch.”

  Cutter felt himself fading in and out of con sciousness. But there was no way he could let Meeks fly out with Mattie Logan in tow. She was a walking time bomb. If The Jaguar got his hands on her, the world would pay a terrible price.

  He tried to sit up, but searing pain sent him back down. He tried to draw a breath, succeeded only in making an undignified sound. Damn. He hadn’t wanted things to end this way…

  He was wondering how the situation could get any worse when four men wielding semiautomatic rifles stormed the clearing.

  SHE WAS GOING TO DIE. If not by the hand of the pilot, then certainly by one of the gunmen. Two minutes ago her biggest concern had been clearing her name. Now, at the mercy of five brutal killers, she figured she’d be lucky to walk away in one piece.

  Mattie couldn’t take her eyes off the man called Cutter as he lay on the ground a few feet away. A crimson stain the size of a saucer bloomed on his shirt. She hadn’t wanted to go back with him, but she certainly hadn’t wanted to see him shot down like an animal.

  She stood frozen, her heart pounding wildly as the four men verged on the pilot. The leader of the group was a thin man of average height. His coal-black hair was swept back from a high forehead. Eyes the color of midnight swept from the man on the ground, to Mattie.

  “I see you are a man of your word,” he said to the pilot.

  “Signed, sealed and delivered,” the pilot replied.

  The man’s black eyes swept down the front of her. “You are not what I expected.”

  “I don’t know anything,” she blurted.

  Sick amusement danced in his eyes. “What you know remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

  She jolted when he raised his hand and brushed her jaw with his knuckle. “It makes no difference to me if you are a woman or a man. One way or another, you will tell me everything you know about the final phase of EDNA or I will hurt you in ways you could never imagine.”

  She believed him. And suddenly she was very sorry the man who’d come to take her back was lying on the ground, dying.

  The terrorist motioned toward the fallen agent. “What happened?”

  “He made a move.” The pilot shrugged. “I had to take him out.”

  “I told you I wanted him alive. Sean Cutter and I have unfinished business.”

  “He didn’t give me a choice.”

  The other m
an’s expression darkened, but he said nothing.

  The pilot glanced toward dark clouds roiling on the horizon. “Look, there’s a storm moving in. Pay me that last half of the money and I’ll drop you and your associates wherever you need to go. But we’ve got to move now or else risk getting stranded on this godforsaken mountain.”

  For the first time Mattie realized that in the last few minutes the wind had picked up. Snow mixed with sleet was swirling around the treetops. A thin layer already covered the ground.

  She knew these men were going to kill her. The ringleader had all but promised to torture her for information about EDNA. Once they got what they wanted from her, she would be expendable. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold snaked through her at the thought of the horrors she faced in the coming hours….

  “Get in the chopper,” the ringleader said to his men.

  “I can take you as far as Canada,” the pilot said as they started toward the hatch.

  “Excellent,” the terrorist said. “Let’s go.”

  As the pilot stepped into the craft, the terrorist raised his handgun and fired a single shot. Blood spattered the yellow fuselage. The pilot pitched forward and landed on the ground with a thud.

  “That’s for killing Sean Cutter,” the terrorist muttered.

  Horror and disbelief pummeled her like fists. Another man dead. All because these men wanted the plans for the final phase of EDNA….

  She wondered how long she would hold up under torture. She wondered how terrible it would be. And in that instant she decided there was no way she could let them take her alive.

  “Fire!”

  Mattie glanced toward the chopper to see black smoke billowing from its fuselage. Surprised shouts erupted all around her. The men scrambled from the craft. “Grab the extinguisher!” one of them shouted.

  “Watch the woman!”

  “The fire is coming from the engine! Quickly, put it out!”

  Run!

  The flight instinct kicked in with a vengeance. Refusing to think of repercussions, she spun away from the chopper and literally ran for her life.

  She darted across the clearing to the forest, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. She scrambled over the trunk of a fallen tree, through brush that tore at her slacks. She knew they would catch her; there was no way she could elude four men with guns. But terror and adrenaline were driving her, not logic.

  Shouts erupted as she fled. She heard her pursuers behind her, following her, breaking through brush. Praying for a miracle, she glanced over her shoulder toward the place where the man called Cutter had fallen.

  But he was gone.

  Chapter Three

  Cutter was no stranger to pain. While the Kevlar vest had saved his life, it hadn’t prevented the bullet from doing a number on his ribs. The vial of fake blood had helped fool them into believing he was mortally wounded, giving him the chance to start the engine fire as a diversion. But with no weapon, no radio, and four well-armed killers to deal with, staying alive would surely prove to be a tad more difficult.

  But it was Mattie Logan who was foremost in his mind as he hurried down the deer trail in search of her. He could hear the men shouting in the distance and knew it would be only a matter of time before they caught up with her. Within minutes of capturing her they would load her onto the chopper and cross the border into Canada. He had no intention of letting that happen.

  He turned right at a jut of rock and poured on the speed. Agony tore through his chest with every breath, but he didn’t slow down. He didn’t let himself think about the pain or the odds he faced. He had to find Logan before the terrorists did….

  Operating on little more than animal instinct, he ran toward the tall, dense piñon pines. Logan had fled southwest. If he held his direction, he would intercept her. Hopefully before the others did. But Cutter knew finding her wasn’t the toughest challenge he faced. The hard part was going to be getting out of there without getting shot….

  The sound of footsteps sent him diving for cover in a blanket of juniper. Peering through the foliage, he caught a glimpse of blond hair and pale skin. He heard the hiss of panicked breaths rushing through clenched teeth.

  Logan.

  He caught her arm as she passed. Carried by the momentum of her sprint, she stumbled and nearly fell, but Cutter caught her. He slapped a hand over her mouth, catching the scream that would have revealed their position. He felt an impression of soft skin and small bones within his grasp. The hint of lemon and rosemary in silky hair as she swung around. But all of those things were punctuated by panic and terror. A dangerous state if he didn’t gain control of the situation pronto.

  No time to take her to the ground and subdue her. No time for an explanation. For an instant, she fought back like an animal snared in the deadly teeth of a steel trap. He made eye contact and gave her a hard shake. “If you want to live, come with me,” he said in a low voice.

  She went still and blinked at him as if waking from a bad dream. “I…I thought you were d-dead.”

  “So did they, evidently.” He looked over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t,” he said and hauled her into a dead run.

  A DEAD MAN had saved her life.

  It was the only thought Mattie’s brain could manage. She didn’t know how, but somehow Cutter had survived a gunshot to the chest. Though at the moment, running from men bent on killing them, she didn’t necessarily care.

  Snow and sleet blinded her as she ran. It took every ounce of physical ability she possessed to keep up with Cutter and maintain her footing. One tiny miscalculation and she would fall—a mistake that would surely prove deadly.

  It felt as if they had been running forever. Every muscle in her body ached with exhaustion. Mattie didn’t know how she kept going. The primal will to live.

  “Whoa. Easy.”

  She felt a hard tug on her hand. Cutter was pulling her back, slowing her down.

  “Can’t…stop,” she panted.

  “It’s okay.”

  “They’ll kill us.”

  “I’m not going to let them kill anyone.”

  Mattie looked over her shoulder, but the trail they’d just traveled was deserted. She listened for footsteps, but the only sound came from their labored breathing and the soft thud of sleet against the ground.

  Giving her a look that told her he was too damn beat to give chase if she decided to take off, Cutter released her, then bent at the hip to gulp air. “We need to rest, catch our breath.”

  Mattie thought about running, but her legs had evidently decided they’d had enough exertion for one day. When she started to walk away, her knees buckled. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, and for a moment she could do nothing but breathe.

  “Take a moment to catch your breath. Then we’ve got to keep moving.”

  Mattie raised her head and glared at him. “It’s going to take a lot longer than a moment for me to catch my breath.”

  They’d stopped in a small clearing. The boughs of the piñon pines were covered with snow. Mattie wondered if they’d gained elevation. If that was why it seemed colder, the air thinner and more difficult to breathe.

  “Come on.” Cutter crossed to her and extended his hand. “Time to go.”

  Mattie considered refusing his hand. But she wasn’t sure she could rise on her own, so she reached for him. “Back at the chopper, how did you manage the fire?”

  “I didn’t.” He pulled her to her feet. “What you saw was a smoke grenade. A diversion.”

  No, she thought. He was no ordinary cop. But if he wasn’t a cop what agency was he with? CIA? Homeland Security? She wondered why he had been sent to take her back. Why not local law enforcement? Why not the FBI or the U.S. Marshals Service.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I’m the man who’s going to keep you alive.” His icy blue eyes burned into hers. “Right now, that’s all you need
to know.”

  THE SON OF A BITCH had beaten him at his own game once again.

  The Jaguar paced the snow-covered ground with the sleek elegance of his namesake. Dark anticipation and a keen sense of unfinished business had him feeling restless and edgy. Not only was Sean Cutter alive, but he was psychologically and physically sound and working for the CIA again. That more than anything surprised The Jaguar. By all rights, the man should be dead. At the very least he should be locked in a padded cell.

  He and the federal agent went way back, but their relationship was far from amicable. Cutter was the only man The Jaguar had not been able to break. Even under torture, the agent had maintained his silence. He’d defied a black art form The Jaguar had made his business and built a reputation upon. The sense of failure had nagged at him for two years. This time, he would make certain Sean Cutter talked, then was tortured and killed.

  Bracing himself against the cold north wind, The Jaguar lit a cigarette and walked to the chopper, where two of his men were working on the engine.

  “What is the status?” he asked.

  “Operable.”

  “Excellent.”

  “The smoke was evidently from a smoke grenade and did little damage to the engine.”

  A diversion, he thought. How very like Sean Cutter… Hatred churned inside him. He looked up at the swirling snow, felt the dark anticipation stir. “Is the chopper equipped with infrared?”

  The other man smiled. “The American government spares no expense when it comes to hunting down those who would question their absolute power.”

  The Jaguar nodded. “I want the scientist and Sean Cutter. I want them alive. And I want them now.”

  “The weather could be a problem.”

  He turned his gaze on the other man. “The last man who questioned my wishes lasted for fourteen hours in my torture chamber. When I tired of his screams I shot him. Perhaps you want to test your endurance?”

  The other man looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing twice in quick succession. “I am merely looking out for your safety.”

  “That would best be done once we’re airborne.”