Code of Honor

by Radclyffe

  Lucinda went silent, and Loren could practically hear the gears turning. Finally, the chief of staff said, “Who’s bankrolling the gun buy?”

  “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  “Best guess?”

  “Someone on the far right with connections. Someone with solid supporters. My guess is the money is coming from powerful donors for promises of legislation they favor in the future.”

  “There are very few people who come to mind who have that kind of reach.”

  “I know, and that’s why I’m in Idaho.”

  “Yes. And I wish I’d known that sooner.”

  Loren had a feeling someone at the FBI was in for an ass-chewing, but that wasn’t her problem. Her cover was likely going to be blown before the night finished, not that she cared. Sky was all that mattered now. Washington could worry about the politics. “Not my call.”

  “I’m aware. Can you avoid going on this run?”

  “Not possible. I’m part of it.”

  Washburn went quiet again, a sure sign there was trouble and she was trying to figure out how to approach it.

  “What’s going on?” Loren asked.

  “We’re commencing aerial surveillance momentarily. It might not be safe for you to try to penetrate the compound now.”

  “Surveillance? Something tells me you’re not talking about sheriff’s deputies in helicopters.”

  “Something a little less obvious than that.”

  Loren should’ve figured the White House would pull out all the stops for someone like Roberts. Someone was pulling strings, had to be. She knew her phone was secure and she hoped the White House line was too. Homeland and Customs and Border Patrol had been making noises about gearing up a fleet of unmanned Predator drones capable of monitoring cell phone communication and other on-the-ground electronic signals, as well as discriminating between individuals who were armed and unarmed. With facial recognition, they might be able to target specific individuals in FALA’s compound, but the instant they launched an attack, FALA would counterattack. Potential witnesses would be the first to die. “Armed Predators?”

  “Let’s just say remote technology with the capability of identifying individuals on the ground and directing specific action as required.”

  “Ground transmission monitoring too?”

  “Yes.”

  Hell. They were definitely planning an assault on the camp. “You might be able to blow up the place, but that’s not going to get Roberts and Dunbar out of there. You need boots on the ground for that.”

  “Once the area is secured, we’ll bring in—”

  “You’ll be too late. At the first sign of aggression, the militia is going to execute the two of them. This is a great way to lose the hostages.”

  “They’ve left us little choice. Experience has shown the longer we wait, the higher the losses. We prefer not to lose you as well. I can’t order you—”

  “No, you can’t. Because we both know this conversation never happened. I’ll call you with a new number if you need to reach me, but you’ll have eyes and ears on all of us soon enough.” Loren disconnected, crushed the cell phone under her boot, and put the remnants in her pocket. She’d ditch them somewhere along the highway on the way to pick up the guns. The chip was probably untraceable, but she couldn’t take any chances. She had to keep her cover in place until she got to the camp.

  She needed to get up that mountain and join the Renegades when they stormed the compound, and she had to do it before the Predators unleashed their missiles. If she could get Sky and Roberts into the woods, they all might have a chance of making it out alive.

  *

  At the sound of footfalls approaching the door, Cam focused on staying as relaxed as she could manage. She kept her legs crossed at the ankles and her hands loosely clasped in her lap, telegraphing her confidence and that she and Dunbar were not afraid of their situation. The only weapons she had at her disposal were psychological—and the chance she might goad Jones into telling her something useful or distracting her enough to drop her guard.

  Jones walked in, still in combat gear, and strode to the end of Cam’s bed, her eyes glittering with triumph. “We’ll bring you something to eat in a few minutes. You’re going to do some marching in the morning, so you’d better eat it and get some sleep.”

  “We need some antibiotics.” Cam gestured to Dunbar, whose eyes were closed. She was either feigning sleep, a smart move, or had fallen into a stupor. “She’s running a temperature.”

  “I heard. I’ll see to it.”

  “Is your name Pattee like your sister’s?”

  Jones smiled thinly. “You don’t need to know anything about me.”

  “Actually, I already do. I know you and your sister were homeschooled, which really amounted to being indoctrinated and trained to infiltrate high-level organizations as part of a long-range plan to cripple the government. That’s pretty impressive and a cut above usual paramilitary capability.”

  “We’re not an ordinary unit. That should be obvious,” Jones said curtly. “But even say you’re right. So what?” She gripped the iron frame at the end of the bed and leaned forward. “You’re my prisoner now. If you follow orders, you just might live a little while longer.”

  “Where do you plan on taking us?”

  “You don’t need to know that.” Jones smiled. “All you need to know is I’m going to let you go—just as soon as we have my sister.”

  “Washington will never agree to that if they haven’t talked to me. They’ll require proof of life.”

  “Oh, they’ve asked. And we’ll give it to them. On our timetable, not theirs.” Jones’s expression darkened. “We don’t follow their orders.”

  “The antibiotics?”

  Impatiently, Jones removed a set of keys from her right cargo pocket, crossed to the drug cabinet, opened it, and came out with a bottle of pills. She tossed it to Cam, who caught it one-handed. “Amoxicillin. Give her two now and another one in four hours.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m just doing it so I can deliver her as part of the deal. But she’s not the critical element. If she can’t make the march, she’ll have to…stay behind.”

  “She’ll make it.”

  “That’s on you, Director Roberts. Because I couldn’t care less.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and a guard Cam hadn’t seen before backed in, balancing food trays in each hand.

  Jones said, “Your dinner’s here. You’d do well to eat it. Have a good night.”

  Cam swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up. She estimated Lucinda had until morning to find them and launch a rescue. Once they left the compound, their chances of survival dropped to near zero. An ache settled around her heart. She’d give anything to speak to Blair one more time.

  “It’s too soon to think about good-bye,” Dunbar whispered, her gaze unwavering on Cam’s.

  “I thought you were asleep,” Cam said.

  “Just conserving energy.”

  “Good. You hungry?”

  “No,” Dunbar said, pushing herself up against the head of the bed with her uninjured arm. “But I’m going to eat. I’ve got a lot of reasons to get out of here.” She smiled faintly. “One is personal. And I want the chance to tell her so.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Loren concentrated on the highway, refusing to think about the hours slipping away or about what might be happening to Sky. She couldn’t think about Sky being hurt, helpless, alone and wondering if anyone was coming for her. When she did, the rage and fear welled up and clouded her mind. She couldn’t allow that—had to be sharp now, on the most important mission of her life. She had to be in control like never before. In the past, the only one at risk if she failed was her. Now Sky would pay for her mistakes.

  She gripped the throttle, held it steady, and ignored the cold wind clawing at her throat. Blinking back tears of ice coating her lashes, she rode on through the night next to
Quincy, with Armeo and the truck behind them. Just a few more hours and she’d be heading back in the other direction into the Bitterroots, and when dawn broke, she would find Sky.

  *

  The jet touched down at Mountain Home Air Force Base, forty miles southeast of Boise, Idaho, at 0300. Blair, Stark, and Mac climbed out and into the waiting Humvee. Stark leaned forward, spoke to the driver, and the Humvee headed for a gate in the twelve-foot chain-link fence that surrounded the landing zone. Blair looked out the window into the night. Mountains encircled them, massive and foreboding. As they left the bright lights of the base behind, stars blinked on in the velvet sky. The night would have been beautiful if it weren’t filled with such terror.

  “How far to Silver Lake?” she asked Stark.

  “About an hour and a half.”

  “I want to talk to Lucinda about the timetable.”

  “As soon as we arrive.”

  Blair nodded. They wouldn’t get much reception out here in the middle of nowhere, and Stark would want a secure line. Blair watched the night streak by and tried to let her mind go blank, but she failed. The mountains mocked her with their majestic and impenetrable presence. Somewhere in their depths, Cam was at the mercy of terrorists. She couldn’t bear to imagine what might be happening to her. When the fear threatened to incapacitate her, she held on to the one thing of which she was absolutely certain. Cam would never give up. Cam would fight with everything at her disposal, and she would find her way home. Blair believed that with every beat of her heart.

  “I want to know as soon as they pinpoint their location. I want to get as close as we can.”

  At any other time, Stark would have voiced some objection, but she didn’t. From the instant Blair had called her and explained the situation, Stark had done everything possible to get Blair out here.

  “As soon as I know anything, you will too,” Stark said. “And as soon as we have a safe location for a base, I’ll get you there.”

  Stark’s face in the flickering light was solemn, strong. She still had the smooth features of youth, but only hard experience showed in her dark eyes. Affection welled up in Blair’s chest.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how glad I am that you’re in charge of my detail. Cam made the right choice when she recommended putting you in charge. I trust you, like I do her.”

  Stark swallowed. “I’ll do everything I can to deserve it.”

  “I know. Just find a way to get me to her.”

  Stark nodded.

  Blair understood her silence. Cam never made promises she couldn’t keep, either.

  *

  Cam dozed, listening with part of her mind to Dunbar’s breathing. The antibiotics seemed to be helping. Dunbar was less restless, her breathing slow and steady. The wound itself shouldn’t be debilitating in the long run as long as they kept the infection under control, but she’d lost blood, enough to weaken her, and Cam worried she might not be able to tolerate a long hike in the near-freezing temperatures.

  0330. The guards had cleared away the dinner trays and turned out the lights several hours ago. She could hear the low murmur of voices just outside—several guards, probably more stationed nearby. Their best chance of escape would be when they were being moved.

  Jones had indicated they’d leave at first light. They’d been held roughly nine hours. Before morning, they’d have to let her speak to someone in DC. There wasn’t much she could say that might help the authorities find them. She knew without doubt Lucinda would have a team looking for them, but she had no idea what information they had to go on. She was blind.

  Since she couldn’t do anything about what was happening on the outside, she passed the time piecing together the how and why of their capture. Someone had leaked the purpose of her meet with Skylar Dunbar, and Jennifer Pattee’s organization had gotten wind of it. Kidnapping her was a desperate move, and one that suggested they were confident any reprisals would be minimal. That suggested they had powerful backers. Maybe that was the source of the leak—maybe this conspiracy reached all the way to DC, to areas they had yet to consider. She wanted to find out who their silent benefactor was. No matter what happened with FALA—and eventually they would be crushed as a result of this move—there would be others. Domestic terrorism was on the rise, and no matter how many they broke, until they cut off the power source, the problem would never end.

  From the darkness, Dunbar said softly, “If you have a chance to get away tomorrow, take it.”

  “We came in together, we’re going out together. And we’re going home together.”

  “I’m not going to be as fast as usual. You need to get out of here—you need to find out who’s behind this.”

  “We will.”

  “If we get separated tomorrow,” Dunbar said, “I’d like you to give a message to someone.”

  “If I see them before you do, all right.”

  “There’s an agent undercover with the Renegades—the biker club running guns in this area. Loren McElroy. She needs to be pulled out. Her cover’s probably blown.”

  “Your operative.”

  Dunbar took an audible breath. “She was. She’s more than that now. I need you to make sure she’s all right.”

  “Done.”

  “Something else. I need you to tell her that I was an idiot. She’ll know what I’m talking about.” Dunbar laughed softly. “Tell her I should’ve mentioned I was in love with her too.”

  “Those exact words?”

  “Yeah. Especially the part about being an idiot.”

  Cam sighed. “All the more reason for you to tell her yourself.”

  “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  “Then that will be enough. Now get some sleep. We’re going to be busy come morning.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  At the sound of a vehicle pulling into camp, Jane rose from the chair where she’d been waiting since her father had left to meet with Hooker and pick up the money for the guns. His footsteps were heavy and sure on the porch outside, as solid and formidable as him. The door opened and he strode in on a gust of cold wind, his lieutenants behind him. Jane saluted.

  “Captain.” Augustus Graves nodded toward his office, and Jane held the door open wide for him to walk in first. As if by unspoken command, the others stopped at the threshold, and only Jane followed him in. She closed the door behind her and stood at parade rest, waiting.

  Graves set down the large black nylon duffel he carried in his right hand, then removed his flight jacket and hung it on a post by the door. Only then did he look at her. He smiled. “We have the money. What’s your timetable for the guns and prisoner exchange?”

  “I’ve arranged to have Roberts speak with Washington at zero four hundred. At that time, they will confirm that Jennifer is on a plane to be brought to the rendezvous point at zero six thirty. It should only take half an hour to pick up the weapons. Then I’ll move Roberts and Dunbar down the other side of the mountain.”

  “The timetable is tight.”

  “Yes, I know,” Jane said, making sure to look him in the eyes so he could see she was confident of her plans. “I wanted narrow windows to prevent Washington mobilizing countermeasures.”

  “You’re confident Washington will have Lieutenant Graves here for the exchange?”

  “Yes. They seemed very eager to have Roberts returned.”

  He snorted. “Yes, I imagine they are, considering the president’s daughter has taken up with her.”

  “I made it clear that I would not let them talk to Roberts any sooner, and that once we gave them proof of life, we would expect to make the exchange within three hours. That forces them to follow our timetable.”

  He nodded. “Good. That leaves the power with us.”

  “Yes, that was my conclusion as well.”

  He lifted the duffel and handed it to her. “Hooker assures me there is a great deal more where this came from.”

  “Hooker has proved to be a valuable asset.”
<
br />   “Hooker is a mercenary and he’s playing both sides of the street. He’ll ally himself with whoever pays him the most and wields the most power. Mercenaries like him don’t trust politicians, so his sympathies are likely to lie with us. For the moment.” Graves sat behind his desk and regarded her thoughtfully. “You know, you and Hooker would make a very good team. We should think about it.”

  A frisson of fear shot through Jane’s chest, but she was careful not to let it show. She’d met Hooker only briefly when she’d delivered the virus to him in Atlanta. He reminded her a little of her father—large, aggressive, sexual. He’d been attractive in a rough sort of way, but she couldn’t imagine being intimate with him. But then, she rarely considered intimacy at all. She didn’t have time for that kind of entanglement. Nevertheless, she nodded. “It’s something to consider, when we’ve achieved our objectives.”

  “There will always be another mission. Never forget that.”

  She straightened to attention. “I won’t. Thank you for trusting me with this one.”

  “As soon as you’ve given Washington their proof of life, pick up the guns. I want the camp fully armed when you set out for the exchange. I’ve called in another fifty troops. They’ll be here before daybreak.”

  “I’ll report back as soon as I have the guns.”

  “Good. Keep me apprised.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jane saluted, picked up the duffel, and left the building. After stowing the money in a Humvee, she continued over to the infirmary. The guard at the door saluted and stepped aside so she could enter.

  Inside, the room was shadowed, the only illumination coming from a small light in the bathroom at the far end. Both captives were still on the cots where they’d been the last time she saw them. As she expected, Roberts was sitting up, awake.