Crossfire

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  “Let’s go.” Zimmerman said the moment the gate lifted.

  Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Then taking a deep breath, she pushed on the gas pedal and left the safety of Fort Huachuca behind.

  * * *

  The conference room had transformed into a flurry of activity and barely organized chaos. Seth’s first instinct had been to jump into a car and go after Vanessa and whoever had taken her, but Brent had stopped him before he’d managed to grab the closest vehicle. After ordering Seth to return to the conference room, Brent had reminded Seth that he had to at least know what direction Vanessa and her abductor were headed before he could track them down.

  Seth paced from one end of the room to the other as he held his cell phone to his ear and waited for one of the guard stations to come on the line. Everyone was making calls, either trying to gather information on who had taken Vanessa and where, or lining up the equipment and personnel necessary to get her back.

  When the guard came on the line and had nothing of consequence to report, Seth hung up and started dialing the next number on his list. Before he hit the talk button, Brent shouted out to him.

  “I’ve got something. The guard at one of the back gates remembers seeing a border patrol car leave about fifteen minutes ago.” Brent spoke to everyone in the room, but his eyes were on Seth. “By his description, it sounds like Vanessa was the driver.”

  “Did he see who was with her?” Seth asked.

  “He didn’t get a good look at him, but he was sure it was a man.” Brent shook his head. “The cops have a BOLO out on the patrol car, but so far no one has spotted it.”

  “Here’s the info on that utility van from the power plant.” Quinn held up a piece of paper he had jotted notes on. “The dispatcher said it’s definitely one of theirs. They sent out a man named Brandon James to do an inspection today, but when I ran the name and social security number through the FBI, the guy didn’t pop up. In fact, he doesn’t exist.

  “So he’s using an alias.” Brent shook his head. Sarcasm coated his voice as he muttered, “Perfect.” He motioned to Quinn. “Get the utility company to e-mail us a photo. Also, see if they’ve got a cell phone number for him. We might be able to trace it.”

  Quinn nodded and picked up his phone.

  Beside him, Tristan finished up his call and turned to face Brent. “I’ve got an Apache for us. It’ll be fueled and ready to go in five minutes.”

  “Tristan, you have the most hours in the Apaches. Take it up and see if you can track down that patrol car.”

  Before Brent could assign a copilot, Seth spoke up. “I’m going too.”

  Brent stared at him for a moment, his eyes serious. Then he nodded. “I don’t have to tell you that we’re running out of time. We can’t be sure when this strike is going to go down, so be ready.”

  “We will.” Seth nodded and turned to Tristan. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “Where are we going?” Vanessa finally dared to ask as they continued to drive east. Her mind was racing, searching for some way out

  “You’ll see soon enough,” Zimmerman told her. “It’s not much farther.”

  “I hope not. We’re almost out of gas.” She glanced down, hoping the gas tank was really as empty as the gas gauge indicated. She didn’t have a lot of options while she was behind the wheel of a car, but outside she might get a chance to fight back. Besides, anything that could stall them would give Seth and his friends more time to find her.

  Her hopes for a delay disappeared when she looked up and saw the little Cessna parked on a makeshift runway. Dust was kicking up from the wind, but nothing else was visible except for the mountain range flanking both sides of the airfield.

  Zimmerman kept the gun pointed at her and motioned toward the door. “Out of the car.”

  Vanessa moved slowly, reaching for the door handle and stepping onto the edge of the runway. Keeping her hands at her side, she turned to face Zimmerman as he scrambled out the other side of the car.

  “Let’s go.”

  “You aren’t seriously expecting me to go with you.” Disbelief hung in Vanessa’s voice, and she grasped at the arrogance she had once shown as Lina Ramir.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the plane. “It never hurts to have an insurance policy on board.”

  “It seems like I’m everyone’s insurance lately,” Vanessa muttered.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Zimmerman spared her a quick glance.

  “First Morenta takes me from my home to make sure Uncle Akil doesn’t back out of this plot they have going together. Then some Navy SEALs raid the place I was being held and I’m sent here to the United States. I had just about convinced them that they didn’t have any right to hold me, and then you came along.” Vanessa forced some annoyance into her voice. “Quite frankly, I’m pretty sick of being everyone’s puppet.”

  “You won’t have to worry about that much longer,” Zimmerman said smugly.

  “You do realize that my uncle will kill you if anything happens to me,” Vanessa told him. “Then again, he might not get the chance. My fiancé might get to you first.”

  “Death threats won’t work on me.” His voice was filled with venom as he pulled open the door. “Get on the plane, Lina.”

  Vanessa’s eyes widened when he pushed her inside and she saw what was stored where the back seat should have been. She looked back at him, unable to hide the fear in her eyes.

  “Like I said, death threats won’t work on me.”

  34

  “Border patrol and the local police have set up roadblocks, but there’s still no sign of them,” an Army lieutenant told Tristan and Seth as they crossed the tarmac to where a fuel truck was pulling away from an Apache helicopter.

  Seth felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Where were they? And why hadn’t he stayed with Vanessa until she was on that plane?

  Beside him, Tristan spoke to the man escorting them. “They must be on back roads somewhere if they haven’t been spotted.”

  “Since they went out the back gate, they might be on one of the dirt roads east of here. A lot of hunters go out that way during deer season.”

  “Thanks.” Seth nodded. Adrenaline rushed through him as he climbed into the copilot’s seat and slid his communications headset into place. Tristan strapped in beside him and started the engines.

  Seth stared at the instrument panel in front of him, for a moment unable to function. He kept waiting for his instincts and training to take over, but he could feel himself going in slow motion. He uttered a silent prayer that somehow he could do his job, that he wouldn’t fail now when the woman he loved was in peril.

  The moment they were cleared for takeoff, Tristan looked over at Seth, his eyes filled with understanding. “We’ll find her.”

  Seth nodded as he drew a deep breath. He cleared their takeoff with the air traffic controller, and seconds later they were in the air.

  * * *

  Vanessa could feel her mind going blank as she sat strapped into the copilot’s seat in the small airplane. She knew she had to get out of here. She had to get free. But how? Zimmerman had been in such a hurry to get to the airstrip, but now he didn’t seem very anxious to leave. Could he be having second thoughts?

  Mustering all of her courage, she spoke quietly. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

  Zimmerman angled his head to look at her, his eyes cold and intense. “I was chosen for this.”

  “You may have been chosen for this, but I wasn’t,” Vanessa said, her voice wavering.

  “Perhaps you were, and you just didn’t know it.”

  “You can’t honestly believe that my uncle would want me to die alongside his suicide bomber.”

  “I doubt Akil Ramir would want his niece to die today, but I don’t believe you’re Lina Ramir,” Zimmerman said smugly. “You were in a secure area of a U.S. military base, walking around without an escort. Obviously you aren’t who Akil thinks you are
.”

  Vanessa opened her mouth to dispute his observations, but he shifted, and the coldness and awareness in his eyes caused her to reconsider her words. “Even if you’re right, what good does it do to take me with you? Who would I tell about your plans? We’re in the middle of nowhere, and the car doesn’t have enough gas to get me back to the base.”

  “That may be, but if any of your military friends figure out what I’m doing, a hostage may come in handy.”

  He glanced at his watch and then obsessively turned to check the road once more. She could only assume he was concerned someone would follow them, and she continued to pray for a miracle. If Zimmerman flew this plane into the nuclear power plant, the initial explosion would be nothing compared to the fallout if even one of the reactors failed. She shifted and took a good look at the explosives behind her. From what she could tell, even though the back of the plane was filled with C4, only a small portion of it was actually attached to a detonator.

  As she studied the bomb, she could only guess that Zimmerman was going to detonate it, which would then cause the rest of the C4 to explode. Then she noticed it: a receiver that would allow the bomb to be detonated remotely. But why? When she had first seen the explosives in the back of the plane, she’d assumed that Zimmerman was going to detonate this flying bomb by crashing it into his target. Now she wondered if Zimmerman was really the one in control or if it was someone else.

  A beeping sound rang out from his watch, and Zimmerman reached forward to start the airplane. Moments later they were airborne, and Vanessa took a deep breath as reality sank in. It didn’t matter who was in control of the explosives behind her. No one was coming after her. No one would even know she was missing until it was too late. Too late for her, and too late for Seth.

  Her chest tightened at the thought that Seth would be a victim too—if not from the initial blast, then from radiation poisoning after the attack. She squeezed her eyes closed against that thought and fought against the panic and hopelessness. Somehow she had to find a way out of this mess. Even if she wasn’t going to survive the day, she might be able to make sure that Seth could see tomorrow.

  * * *

  “Something still doesn’t feel right about all of this.” Quinn paced across the room before looking back at Brent and Hank.

  “I know,” Brent agreed. He leaned on the table in front of him, staring at the files scattered there. “I don’t understand why Ramir was running all of those training camps. If he was planning an air strike, he could have done it all at his fortress.”

  “A few of the camps looked like they were training in communications and explosives, but that still leaves at least two more that were mostly made up of the mercenary types,” Quinn said. Then he stopped pacing and turned to face Hank. “You said you had a big drug bust outside of Phoenix last week.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How did you know it was Morenta’s men you busted?”

  “They all had the same tattoo on their hand. The one Morenta’s nephew has,” Hank told him. At their blank expressions, he added, “We apprehended Morenta’s nephew in a bust last year.”

  “Where’s he being held?” Brent asked.

  “His trial started last week in Phoenix.”

  “Morenta’s nephew is in Phoenix?” Quinn asked as all of them considered the spin this new information put on their assumptions.

  “Maybe that’s the connection we’ve been looking for.” Brent shuffled the files in front of him and flipped one open. “Morenta must be paying Ramir to help him break his nephew out of prison. That might also explain why Morenta was paying for Z-10s. He must be using one to transport his nephew out of the country.”

  Quinn nodded in agreement. “And in exchange, Morenta is helping fund Ramir’s terrorist attack.”

  “If that’s the case, there’s no way the nuclear power plant could be the target,” Brent said with a shake of his head. “Morenta wouldn’t go to all of this trouble only to have his nephew die from radiation poisoning.”

  Hank nodded in agreement. “Not to mention that the nuclear power plant has so much reinforcement, even a direct missile hit wouldn’t cause a radiation leak.”

  “Then what’s the target?” Quinn asked.

  “Logically, it would be something that would cover up most of the evidence of a jailbreak.” Brent looked at Hank. “What other sites are considered to be high risk?”

  “There are only two high-threat terrorist targets in Arizona. One is the nuclear power plant. The other is Hoover Dam.”

  “The dam?” Brent asked, rapidly trying to adjust his thoughts to this unconsidered new possibility. “What would happen if someone took it out?”

  Hank’s voice was somber now. “If that dam were to fail, it could flood half of the populated areas in the state.”

  “That’s just the kind of target Ramir would go for,” Quinn said. “And if Morenta’s nephew was flown out after the jailbreak, no one would ever know he survived. One of those Z-10s could sneak in undetected to pick him up once the power plant was down.”

  “It likely won’t even be a jailbreak. I saw on the news that Morenta’s nephew is due in court again today,” Hank told them. “If it were me, I’d try to break him out of the courtroom. It’d be a whole lot easier than getting into the prison.”

  Brent pointed at Hank. “Call the courthouse and see if you can convince them to shut everything down today.” He then nodded at Quinn. “I want the base commander on the phone. Get the word to Seth and Tristan that the dam may be a target. And get us a ride to Phoenix.”

  Quinn nodded. “I’m on it.”

  * * *

  “The analysts finally found something,” Rick Ellison told Amy as he walked into her temporary office. He handed her a satellite photo and pointed to the left corner. “That is definitely a nest of antiaircraft guns.”

  “Did they find any of the helicopters?”

  “Not that I know of, but we’re going to have live feed from the satellite in about three minutes. Come on.” Ellison motioned to the door. “Let’s go see what we can find out.”

  Amy nodded and quickly followed him out the door and down the hall. She then showed her ID to the guard at the door and listened to Ellison explain that she was cleared to go inside.

  She stepped into the room with muted lights. On one wall, the current satellite feed was projected onto a large screen. An analyst was sitting in front of the computer on the side of the room manipulating the image.

  “What have we got so far?” Ellison asked.

  “It’s coming into range now,” the analyst told him. He used the mouse to zoom in on the area where the antiaircraft guns had been spotted. “Here’s where that photo was taken.”

  Amy looked at the image, unable to identify anything. Beside her, Ellison asked, “Can you zoom in?”

  “Yeah.” He hit several keys, and the image enlarged until they were looking at two people standing beside some mean-looking antiaircraft guns. “Looks like this is the place.”

  “What else is in the area?” Ellison asked.

  The analyst shifted the image, looking first to the left, then the right. Then he scanned to the south and found what they were looking for. “Here we go. Z-10 attack helicopters.”

  “Where’s a phone?” Amy asked. “I’ve got to let the Saint Squad know that we found them.”

  “Right there.” Ellison pointed to a phone that was mounted to the wall.

  “Where exactly is this?” Amy asked, nodding toward the screen.

  “Here are the map coordinates.” The analyst opened a second image that overlaid the image with the map of the area.

  Amy picked up the phone and dialed. Brent answered on the first ring, and Amy didn’t bother with a greeting. “Brent, you guys were right. We found a new nest of antiaircraft guns thirty miles southwest of Hermosillo.”

  “Are the helicopters there?” Brent asked, his voice unusually tense.

  “Yeah. We’re watching the live satellite
feed right now,” Amy told him anxiously. Her eyes widened when she saw the first helicopter go into motion. She turned to look at the analyst, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand. “Is that what it looks like?”

  “Yeah, it just lifted off. The rotors of the other one are in motion too.”

  “There should be three,” Amy told him. “Where’s the other one?”

  The analyst shook his head. “We only have two helicopters at this location.”

  Amy spoke into the phone again, trying not to consider the ramifications of the helicopters lifting off a day before they expected them to. “Brent, we’ve got a visual on two attack helicopters. One just lifted off, and the other is preparing to. The third one is missing.”

  “We’ll find it,” Brent told her. “Call the command center out here and keep feeding your information to them. We’re going to need it.”

  “I will,” Amy told him.

  “One more thing,” Brent said before she could hang up. “Vanessa’s missing.”

  “What?”

  “We think she was abducted by someone who was working at the power plant,” Brent told her. “Tristan and Seth are going up in one of the Apaches to find her. I’ll have them expand their search to include looking for the missing Z-10.”

  “What about you and Quinn?”

  “We’re heading out with Hank Rodriguez. He thinks he figured out what all of those training camps were all about,” Brent said. “The command center can keep you up to date.”

  “Be safe,” Amy said even as the dial tone came over the line. She quickly dialed the number to the western command center, trying not to think about what the next few minutes might bring.

  * * *

  “We’ve contacted all of the local airports. No new aircraft will take off until further notice, and all small aircraft have been instructed to land immediately,” General Garrison, the base commander, told Brent as they all stood in the radar room of Fort Huachuca. The general’s willingness to cooperate had improved dramatically after receiving the latest intelligence reports.