Hidden (Jacobs Family Series Book 1)
Page 6
“Unknown.”
“Number of hostiles?”
“Two.”
“Intent?”
“Unknown, but the caller gave us their route.”
“Roger.” Ben disconnected, dropped the fish, and doubled his speed to a near run.
Fourteen
Dana understood she had no rational reason to be irritated with Ben, which didn’t stop her from wanting to slap the back of his curly head when he hustled into the office two and a half hours later.
The fact that he was wearing a fishing vest and had a touch of sunburn didn’t improve her mood.
“Has anything changed?” He studied her as he traded the fishing vest for a Kevlar one.
“The semi has left the Philmont Boy Scout Ranch and is heading south on I-25. We have two spybots tailing it. They will continue to send live transmissions until the vehicle stops, at which point they’ve been programmed to back off.”
Ben nodded and accepted the M24 rifle Sayeed handed him.
“The spybots were able to scan the load they are carrying while the rig was parked.” Sayeed pushed two extra magazines of ammunition into his own vest, then passed two more to Ben. “Our best projections are half a ton of dynamite. The bots also confirmed two hostiles, both riding in the front of the rig.”
Dana had turned to give last-minute instructions to Captain, but she caught up with Ben and Sayeed as they walked out the back door.
“What did we forget?” Ben asked.
“Me. I’m riding with the two of you.” Dana walked ahead and jerked open the front passenger door of the Humvee. She turned in time to catch Ben throwing a quizzical look over the top of the vehicle at Sayeed, who only raised an eyebrow. Fortunately, they both knew better than to argue with her.
Sayeed pulled their vehicle into line with the caravan of five cars.
Dana worked the computer controls on the GPS video panel.
Ben leaned forward from the backseat. “The rig is the red dot?”
“Correct. They’re still on Interstate 25 headed south.” Dana sat back, slowed her breathing, and focused on what she had to be thankful for. They had not detonated at the scout camp.
“We’ll stop them, boss.” Ben’s voice was quiet and certain.
She turned in her seat and hesitated before replying. His eyes locked with hers, and what she saw reminded her of the first day he’d walked into her office. His words were more than boastful chatter. Ben quite simply possessed an absolute certainty in what needed to be done and his ability to do it. The thought comforted her more than any other had during the last six hours.
She nodded and turned back to the GPS display.
“We should intersect them south of Wagon Mound. Clay’s vehicles will cut to the north.” Dana traced a route toward Watrous on the display. “We’ll go around to the south with the other vehicle and cut them off before the tunnel.”
“Have we intercepted any additional communications?” Ben asked.
“Not since this morning.” Dana leaned back and stared out at the passing mesas. “We now believe their target to be Alamogordo, but it could be Las Cruces or El Paso. Either way, they won’t get past I-40.”
Sayeed nodded in agreement. “If we miss them, air cover is standing by to come in and take them out.”
“We won’t miss them.” Ben took a deep, steadying breath.
“I guess you thought you were done with such things,” Dana said. “It’s not supposed to happen here.”
At first she thought he wouldn’t answer, almost wished she hadn’t let the words slip between them.
“Probably no place is safe from such atrocities now.” Somehow Ben stated it as if it were the day’s weather forecast, nothing more or less.
To Dana the words felt heavy, full of sadness and someone’s loss. Full of responsibility.
“ETA six minutes,” Sayeed said.
They all wore communication units. Dana’s was currently patched in with the regional office. They in turn relayed what information the spybot was able to gather. The surveillance planes were no bigger than a small bird and could fly within a meter of a target without being detected. A remote pilot flew the bird and operated its onboard programs.
“We’ll position ourselves under the bridge.” Dana pointed to a spot on the display. “State troopers have stopped traffic ten miles further south.”
Sayeed unclipped the onboard radio and called to the vehicle behind them, relating Dana’s instructions.
Ben again leaned forward to get a better look at the bridge up ahead. It actually passed through a portion of the mountain pass. Dana thought it would provide a good bit of cover for them.
Sayeed pulled to the northern most portion, then parked under the edge of the bridge overhang. They would be able to see anything coming toward them, but no one could see them.
Dana listened to the update from regional, then relayed it through the comm link to her group. “The rig has passed the checkpoint at Wagon Mound. Clay’s group is closing in from the north.”
She jumped out of the vehicle and walked to the edge of the shadows.
Fifteen
Ben fought the urge to pull Dana back into the protection of the darkness. His common sense told him they couldn’t be seen yet, but his heart told him to be extra careful with her.
“I’m going on top of the bridge to set up,” Sayeed said.
Ben studied the flat road, stretching like a map in front of them. They had a good strategy. It should work, but he preferred to have a backup plan. To the left of the bridge, out in the sunlight and four hundred yards north, were three giant boulders. He touched Dana’s shoulder and pointed.
“I want to set up there.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”
“Backup. In case something goes wrong.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears and frowned. He thought she might argue, but she didn’t. “Keep your comm unit on.”
He flashed her a smile and was gone.
Jogging down the hot road, carrying the fifteen-pound rifle, Ben realized he might as well be back in Iraq. Like Dana had said, he had thought he was done with carrying a sniper weapon and setting up a cover. On the other hand, wasn’t this why he’d taken the job with Homeland Security? To keep American towns from being torn apart like the ones in Iraq had been?
Ben knew that all he’d endured in Iraq had prepared him to serve here. The kids at the local school, Sayeed and Dana, Mr. Tafoya, even his own family in Montana—they all deserved a measure of safety. Dropping down beside the boulders, he felt his psyche gear up for battle. He would do what he had to do to protect those he loved.
Fifteen minutes later, Ben heard Clay over the comm unit. “We have a visual on the rig. He’s passed our location and is headed in your direction at seventy-five miles per hour.”
“Roger that,” Dana said. “Cheryl, bring up the second car from the south in exactly two minutes on my mark. Clay, proceed from the north. I want to pin them at a point where Sayeed and Ben will have a clear shot—between four- and six-hundred meters.”
Ben took three steadying breaths and fitted the rifle against his shoulder. With his back pressed against the boulder, he knew he’d be invisible to anyone on the road, but he was worried about Sayeed. The sun might bounce off his barrel given his position above the bridge’s northern overhang.
“Three, two, one, mark.” Dana’s voice was perfectly calm. It occurred to Ben she might have done this before.
A dot appeared in his scope. Everything was proceeding as they’d anticipated… until Clay’s voice came back over his comm unit.
“He’s accelerating.”
Cheryl had pulled her Humvee across the middle of the road and placed emergency flashers on top. Clay had come up behind the rig, and he, too, had flashing lights.
This was the point of no return. Would they fight or stand down?
“He’s going to ram you, Cheryl.” Clay’s voice was disgusted.
“
Let him try.” Cheryl sounded angry. Ben could picture the petite woman taking on an eighteen-wheeler.
Ben didn’t take his eye away from the scope, even when the rig began to slow down in front of Cheryl’s Humvee.
“Better decision,” she muttered. Stepping out of her vehicle along with three other personnel, she raised her firearm. They were all careful to remain behind the armor-plated vehicle.
Speaking through the loudspeaker of the Humvee, Cheryl said, “Power down your rig and step out with your hands up.”
It seemed for a moment they would comply, then Ben saw the faintest glint of sunlight on metal. He heard the ring of gunshots at the same time the big engines of the rig powered up. In a breath, it was racing toward Cheryl like a demon on wheels.
He heard Dana scream for Cheryl’s team to get out of there at the same moment the rig hit the Humvee. The next thing he heard was all too familiar—the sound of a rocket-propelled grenade powering up.
Ben felt his heart lodge in his throat. Sweat trickling down his face, he somehow resisted the urge to turn and check on Dana and Sayeed.
He heard Clay scream, “They’re going to blow the bridge, Dana. Get out of there.”
The next moment ticked by, as if in slow motion. Ben could have no more stopped it than he could have stopped his body from pulling in another breath.
The shoulder-launched, anti-tank RPG streaked from the passenger window of the rig and found its mark obliterating the top of the bridge.
Ben couldn’t get a clear bead on the driver or the man in the passenger seat still holding the RPG. Part of Cheryl’s Humvee remained stuck on the front of the rig. Something was on fire to his right near the bridge. He prayed with all his heart it wasn’t Dana or Sayeed.
Carefully, he sighted in on the rig’s fuel line, corrected for speed and wind, and took the shot. Even as the bullet traveled to its target, Ben threw himself behind the boulders for cover.
The eighteen-wheeler exploded directly in front of him. If he hadn’t ducked behind the boulders, he would have been cut up worse than he was by the flying debris. But in this, too, his military training took over.
He counted to ten, then dropped the rifle, and ran to find Dana.
Sixteen
Dana woke up to Ben leaning over her. His face was such a mixture of terror and compassion that for a moment it took her breath away. Then she remembered the bridge and the explosion. She struggled against him, determined to sit up.
“Hang on, Dana. You’re hurt.” Ben brushed some debris off her face.
“Sayeed—” She jerked back from his hand, startled by the realization of how gentle his touch was.
“He’s hurt, but he’s okay. Clay is with him now.”
Ben ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. It took her a minute to realize there was blood running down his face.
“You’re bleeding.” She tried again to sit up.
“I’m fine. You need to take it easy though.” He helped her to a sitting position, but stopped her when she tried to stand. “I think your left ankle is sprained. You were thrown by the blast.”
Dana scowled at him. “How do you know it’s sprained?”
“Look at it, Dana. It’s already beginning to swell. I don’t think anything is broken. I’m not a medic though. Hang on until one can get over here.”
A deep line had formed between his eyebrows. He looked almost comical. His eyes met hers, and she was reminded of a basset hound she’d had for one summer. It had met her each day after school with that same pitiful look. She couldn’t help laughing. He looked exactly like Bowzer.
Ben had been squatting beside her, but as she clapped a hand over her mouth, he sat in the dirt beside her and shook his head. “What?”
“Nothing,” she mumbled.
“It must be something. I don’t know what you could possibly think is funny.”
He was aggravated now, and that made her laugh harder.
“Great. I must not have noticed your concussion.”
“So only someone with a concussion would laugh at you, Marshall?”
“Maybe.” Ben waved at the destruction in front of them. “Especially after we’ve blown up a road and a bridge.”
“Not to mention the rig.”
“The rig is toast.”
They sat silently, leaning against the rocks where the blast had thrown her. From their vantage point, they could view the road below. Looking out over the charred remains, all laughter fell away.
“Nice shot, by the way.”
Ben gave her a sideways look, trying to hold on to his scowl but not quite managing it. “Thanks, boss.”
“Want to update me?”
“Cheryl and her team were able to get out of the way before the rig hit her vehicle. Two of her people were cut by flying debris.”
Dana frowned. “How seriously?”
“Superficial wounds. Red is with them now.”
“Go on.”
“Sayeed’s injury is more serious. A bit of debris embedded in his shoulder. Careflight will be here in another five minutes.”
Dana had begun to struggle into a standing position as soon as he said the word serious.
“You might consider going on the Careflight as well. Get your ankle looked at.”
Trying to put any weight on her left foot proved futile, but she waved his suggestion away. “Help me over to him.”
Ben sighed. He didn’t argue though. “Sure thing, boss.”
He took her arm and wrapped it over his shoulders.
She tried to ignore the feel of his muscles under her arm. The same way she was determined not to notice his smile or the sparkle in his eyes as he snugged her in close to his side.
“Don’t get any ideas, Marshall.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
“You’re enjoying this entirely too much.”
“It would be faster if I carried you.”
“That is not going to happen.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
The helicopter landed in the distance as they hobbled down the hill and across the road. She could see Sayeed being loaded on a stretcher.
“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” Dana said.
“I was thinking we’re going to have a hard time keeping this story out of the news.”
Dana waved the idea away with her free hand. “Great idea hitting the fuel line. We’ll blame it on a mechanical problem.”
Ben paused as they reached the side of the road. “Think we’ll ever know where they were headed?”
“Will you and I know? Probably not. Someone with a higher pay grade than us might.”
Ben laughed and helped her to where Sayeed was being loaded onto the Careflight chopper.
“Nice shot, Ben.” Sayeed grasped his hand. “I owe you.”
“There are no debts between soldiers, man. You know that.” Ben stepped out of the way so Dana could speak to Sayeed.
Dana told him she would be there when he came out of surgery. She also promised to call his father herself.
As they loaded him onto the chopper, Red hollered, “Call me if you have any good-looking nurses.”
Then the doors shut, the chopper rose, and it was gone. An eerie silence filled the afternoon. They looked around at the carnage two men set on destruction had wrought.
Dana tried to step toward the Humvee and stumbled. Clay and Ben reached her side at the same moment.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. She stared at the ground, not looking at either of them. Finally clearing her throat, she gazed out over her team. They were a ragtag group, but they had done well. She was proud of them.
Suddenly, she was also very tired.
It would be a long time before she could rest though. Her job didn’t stop now that the danger had passed. She owed a lot to the men and women who had risked so much here. First, she had a report to write up, then a phone call to make, and finally, a trip to the hospital. She would be there when Sayeed awoke.
“Let’s go home,” she said. Then she let Clay and Ben help her to the Humvee.
Seventeen
The report writing was a relief. Dana was able to lose herself in the facts of the mission. Reducing the previous twelve hours to data made them somehow more palatable. In the process, she could ignore the scars around her heart, wounds that were once more inflamed.
Speaking with Sayeed’s father had been difficult. During the conversation she caught herself switching the phone to her left hand so she could rub her chest with her right. Looking down she half expected to see infected wounds—angry, red, and hot to her touch. She knew emotional scars seldom presented themselves so obviously, but her pain felt real—physical.
Sayeed’s father spoke flawless English, though with an Iraqi accent. The man’s voice was gentle and concerned. He’d insisted on reserving the next plane to New Mexico. Dana had assured him Sayeed was being well cared for, but it didn’t lessen his resolve. He would be near his son when he awoke from surgery.
Dana had placed the phone gently into its cradle, and for a moment the loneliness she faced daily had become too much. She covered her face with her hands and allowed the darkness to win and the tears to come.
Of course, Ben had picked that moment to pop his curly head into her office.
She hid her emotions by snapping at him.
He’d wisely withdrawn, but the worried expression on his face had nearly been her undoing.
Now three hours later, she closed the report file, hit the send button, and powered down her computer. With any luck, she’d make it to the hospital before Sayeed was out of the recovery room. The doctors had called and kept her apprised of his progress.
Reaching for her crutches, she pushed down her frustration. The medics had assured her the sprain was slight. Hopefully, she would only need to use them for a few days. She hated the way they slowed her down.
Hobbling across the outer office, she nodded at George.