Crossfire

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  “What about commercial airlines?”

  The air-traffic controller answered, “Outgoing flights are still in the air. They will all clear our borders within twenty minutes. Incoming flights are being diverted.”

  “Good.” Brent nodded his approval. “Do you see anything suspicious still in the air?”

  “Hard to say right now since the small crafts are still scrambling to land. We’ll have a better picture in a few minutes,” the air-traffic controller informed him. “We have two fighter squadrons in the air searching for the missing bogie, and our Apaches are standing by.”

  A corporal sitting across the room hung up his phone and spoke now. “General, we may have a problem,” he began. “The courthouse is refusing to evacuate.”

  Quinn’s answer was immediate. “Call in a bomb scare.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard him.” Brent nodded in agreement. “A lot of innocent civilians are going to get caught in the crossfire if we’re right. If we call in a bomb threat, we’ll have professionals on scene instead of a bunch of bystanders.”

  “Do it,” General Garrison ordered.

  “Yes, sir.” Wide-eyed, the young corporal picked up the phone once more.

  “I’ve got some helicopters standing by to take you and two of my squadrons to Phoenix. The local authorities have already been contacted.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Brent said. “I’ll leave it up to you whether to inform the locals that our bomb threat isn’t real.”

  “It won’t hurt for them to treat it like the real thing for a little while.”

  Brent nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. “Agreed.”

  35

  “Down there,” Seth said to Tristan as he pointed at the border patrol car below them.

  “It looks abandoned,” Tristan replied.

  “Take us down so I can check it out.” As a precaution, Seth reached for his MP5 submachine gun and took a defensive position as Tristan lowered them to the ground.

  The dust swirled up around them as the Apache landed thirty yards from the car. Seth pushed the door open and moved to the car. His search was methodical and quick. Front seat, back seats, and then the trunk. He then turned and ran back to the helicopter. “Nothing.”

  “This strip is only big enough for a small aircraft. Maybe the tower can track it.”

  Seth nodded, having thought the same thing. “Desert Sky, this is Scout One. We found the missing patrol car next to a small airstrip. Please advise on any small aircraft sightings in the area in the past twenty minutes.”

  “Scout One, we have upgraded to code red. All aircraft in the area have been ordered to land immediately,” the voice informed him. “We have two that have not responded. One is east of Flagstaff, and the other is fifty miles north of your position.”

  “That’s got to be them,” Seth said, adrenaline pumping. “Receiving coordinates. We are proceeding to intercept.”

  The air-traffic controller responded, “Be advised, we have two attack helicopters heading our way. Apache squadron has been sent to intercept, but we have a bogie missing.”

  “Roger that,” Tristan replied. “Do we have coordinates on the intruders?”

  “Affirmative,” the voice confirmed. “It appears they are targeting the new power plant.”

  “Understood,” Tristan said.

  Beside him, Seth located the radar contact he hoped was Vanessa and waited impatiently as Tristan chased after it.

  * * *

  “What’s our situation?” Brent asked the local police chief the moment he and Quinn stepped off of the helicopter that had landed on the roof of the courthouse.

  The older man looked up at Brent with a combination of wariness and curiosity. His tone was no-nonsense as he related the basic facts. “Arturo Morenta has been secured at the prison, and we have the National Guard surrounding the perimeter. The courthouse has been evacuated, and we’ve closed off the streets for a two-block radius.” His eyes narrowed a bit as he added, “Now that we know the bomb scare wasn’t real, we’ve sent our bomb squad home, but we still have a few patrols standing by.”

  “Sorry about the bomb threat. We ran into a little resistance from your guys at the courthouse,” Brent told him.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “We’re still trying to piece things together, but we suspect that there are a few dozen mercenaries hiding here in Phoenix who were planning to break Arturo Morenta out of the courthouse today.”

  The chief glanced skyward and then looked over at Brent. “With the amount of firepower I’ve seen overhead, there’s got to be more to this than Morenta coming after his nephew.”

  Brent nodded, his expression serious. “We’ve got an impending terrorist attack. We think we have multiple targets, including at least one power plant and the Hoover Dam.”

  His face paled. “When?”

  “Anytime now.”

  “Not likely if Morenta really wants to get his nephew back in one piece.” The chief shook his head, a little color returning to his cheeks. “If they targeted the nuclear power plant, the fallout would likely kill him before he got out of the area.”

  “Actually, we think the nuclear plant is safe for that exact reason,” Brent said. “Our guess is that an air strike is planned against a power plant near the border and will probably happen about the same time the mercenaries try to get Morenta’s nephew out of here.” Brent hesitated a moment before summing up the rest of their theory. “Then the terrorists would take out the dam, cover up any evidence of the breakout, and create as much havoc as we saw on 9/11.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “This is your town. Do you have any idea where the mercenaries might be hiding out, or how they would try to get into the courthouse?”

  “There are some pretty rough neighborhoods around here, some of them with a lot of abandoned buildings. If it was me, I’d hide my troops out in one of them.” The chief stared at him a moment before adding, “I hope you brought some extra manpower with you. We’re not equipped for an all-out search in such a short amount of time.”

  “Some of our Army buddies came with us,” Brent told him. “If you can narrow down where Morenta’s men might be hiding, we’ll put our infrared sensors to work. That should help us speed up the search.”

  “In that case, here’s where I think you should look first.” The chief described the most probable hiding places, most of which were located in the same section of town.

  Moments later, Brent was headed back to the helicopter with Quinn. Together they hoped to put some of their special-forces equipment to work for them.

  * * *

  Amy listened to the updates from the command center as she watched the live satellite feed. The Z-10 helicopters were closing in on the Arizona border, heading straight for the new power plant. On the U.S. side of the border, a squadron of Apache helicopters was ready and waiting for orders to engage the inbound threat.

  Even though the nuclear power plant was no longer considered to be a likely target, precautions were being taken there as well. A squadron of fighter planes was in the air outside Phoenix in the event that an enemy threat did occur there.

  The activity of an actual mission always fascinated Amy—fascinated and scared her. The sharing of intelligence was so complicated. The radar operator combined his interpretations with the information viewed on the satellite feed to give the various pilots the locations of the impending threats. Tension hung thick in the air, and everyone performed their jobs in spite of it.

  Despite the recent complications, Amy had analyzed the threats and was desperately hoping to check each one off as they were neutralized and as the various missions were completed. The first stage was stopping the two attack helicopters heading their way, thus protecting the new power plant in southern Arizona. Theoretically, the next step would fall on her husband’s shoulders as he and Quinn tried to locate the mercenaries Morenta had sent in to get
his nephew out of the country.

  The other missions weren’t as clear as Amy would have liked them to be, but she certainly knew the outcome she wanted. She hoped and prayed to hear any moment that Vanessa had been found safely and that whatever method was going to be used to damage the Hoover Dam would be stopped. She could only assume that the third attack helicopter was going to fulfill that part of Ramir’s plans. The other possibility was that it would be used to help Morenta’s nephew escape.

  Even though the missing Z-10 hadn’t been located yet, the military was well aware of the two Z-10s heading their way, despite the fact that they were still flying below radar. The satellite feed continued to display the images in front of her, images that were also being received by the western command center. Tension thickened as the enemy helicopters moved to within ten miles of the U.S. border before slowing.

  “They’re in missile range,” one analyst stated with trepidation.

  A moment later, Amy saw the flash on the screen and heard the analyst say the words that everyone had been braced for.

  “Missiles inbound!”

  The anxiety level in the room rose tenfold, clipped voices relaying information in short bursts, sometimes over one another.

  “How many missiles?”

  “Two. They’re both heading for the power plant.”

  Someone switched on a speaker so that they could hear the chatter between the fighters and the command center.

  One pilot’s voice sounded calm despite the gravity of the situation. “Watchdog One, I have eastern missile. Firing!”

  Amy watched one of the incoming missiles disappear from the satellite feed, followed by the second one.

  Then came the order from the command center over the speaker. “Apache squadron, you have permission to engage.”

  “Apache One, engaging.”

  A split second later, missiles were heading across the Mexican border for the Z-10s. Both tried to evade, but one took a hit and looked like it was spinning out of control. The helicopter that managed to escape unscathed turned for its home base, where everyone knew the antiaircraft guns were waiting to counteract any retaliation. He made it within five miles of his safe haven before the Apache helicopter in pursuit fired once more. This time, he hit his target.

  Cheers erupted in the room and sounded over the speakers, but Amy still felt the tension hanging. Somewhere out there, there was at least one more threat, and her husband was one of the men determined to get in its way.

  * * *

  Brent lay down on his stomach as he studied the abandoned warehouse across the street from his position on top of a nearby building. A couple of men were standing casually on the sidewalk, and two more were visible on the side. It was the picture he saw on his infrared that told him they’d found the right place. At least a hundred people were inside the building, most of them on the main floor.

  If their assumptions were correct, the men inside planned to begin positioning for their attack on the courthouse within the next hour or two. Even though the warehouse was within walking distance of the courthouse, several large vans were parked along the street as though waiting to take Morenta’s troops the few blocks to their destination. Brent guessed that those vans would also be used to help transport the mercenaries to high ground before the flood waters arrived.

  Brent looked back at the local authorities who were now in place along with the military forces who were prepared to assist. When he was satisfied that everyone was in place, he spoke into his lip mike. “I’m in position.”

  “I’m all set down here,” Quinn told him. “Do I have a go?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Brent felt the roof beneath him rumble as the dumpster next to the warehouse erupted into flames and debris thanks to the small explosive Quinn had detonated there. The doors of the warehouse burst open, and the inhabitants rushed outside in confusion. Several of them dropped to the ground when a second explosion shook the ground, this time from an abandoned car on the other side of the building.

  The local police moved in with precision, weapons drawn. The scuffle that ensued between the authorities and the mercenaries was almost anticlimactic. Not even one shot was fired as the men surrendered and a thorough search was made of the building they had been hiding in. Several minutes later, Brent received word from Quinn. “Area secured.”

  Brent stood up from his post and looked at the scene below. He had already received word that the threat against the power plant had been neutralized. Now that the mercenaries were in custody, only one threat remained. He could only hope that they could figure out how Ramir was planning to damage the Hoover Dam before it was too late. Otherwise the Valley of the Sun that was stretched out before him might end up underwater before the day was out.

  36

  Any minute now, Vanessa thought to herself. Zimmerman had been flying near the more populated areas of Arizona, first Tucson and then the outskirts of Phoenix. In a matter of minutes, she expected they would reach the open desert.

  For more than an hour she had contemplated her options, running through every bit of training the CIA had given her. Now she was ready to act—as soon as she was sure that no one else would get hurt if her efforts failed.

  The houses below them were becoming sparser, and she started her countdown. Thirty more seconds and then she would act. Even if she couldn’t manage to take control of the little airplane, maybe she could force it down. Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight . . .

  She made it all the way to seventeen before Zimmerman turned the aircraft sharply to the north. Her eyes widened when she saw the Apache helicopter that had appeared in front of them.

  Zimmerman swore under his breath and looked over at Vanessa. “Friends of yours?”

  “Like I said, my boyfriend is as persistent as my uncle is.”

  “If that’s your boyfriend out there, things are working out even better than I had planned.”

  “What do you mean?”

  His lips curved up into an evil grin. “He isn’t going to shoot me down with you on board.”

  “He isn’t going to let you fly this plane into a power plant with me on board either.”

  “We aren’t heading for the power plant.”

  “It doesn’t really matter to me what you plan to crash into as long as you let me out of this plane first.”

  “I’ll consider it.” Zimmerman reached for the radio and handed it to her. “But first tell your boyfriend to give us some space. If he backs off, I’ll land and let you go before I finish my mission.”

  Vanessa took the radio, studying Zimmerman’s face for a long moment. He was good. His expression was serious, with no real clues of what he intended to do. But when he glanced over to the helicopter, Vanessa saw a flash of what she feared. He was only using her to obtain his objective. He was already a dead man in his mind, and there was no way he was going to land and let her go.

  She took a deep breath and stared down at the radio for a moment, knowing what she had to do.

  * * *

  “Can you tell if she’s in there?” Tristan asked, trying to reposition the helicopter so that Seth could see into the cockpit with the binoculars he held.

  “It looks like her,” Seth said as the radio started receiving.

  When Vanessa’s voice came over the radio, Seth looked over at Tristan, stunned.

  “Seth, I’m supposed to tell you that if you back off, Zimmerman will land and let me go before he completes his mission.” Vanessa continued in a calm voice, one edged with unspoken regret. “But you know what you need to do. We can’t have another 9/11.”

  The radio went dead, and Seth’s chest tightened as he inhaled sharply. He knew what she was saying. The plane in front of them was going to be used as a weapon, possibly to take out the Hoover Dam. She wanted him to shoot down her plane. Kill her and Zimmerman in order to stop the terrorist attack. One second ticked by and then another. He glanced at Tristan, knowing he couldn’t do it.

  “It�
��s your call,” Tristan reminded him.

  He drew in a breath and blew it out as his mind raced. “She doesn’t think this guy is serious about letting her go. We need to convince him that it’s a good idea.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If Zimmerman is using this plane as a weapon, he’ll fight to stay in the air until he reaches his target.”

  “Yeah, I’m listening.”

  “Let’s shoot a couple of rounds near them and see if we can get this guy to reconsider landing long enough to hand over Vanessa.”

  “It’s a long shot.”

  “It’s better than her idea.”

  “Good point,” Tristan agreed as he veered left. “Bringing her around.”

  Seth opened communication with Vanessa’s plane. “Zimmerman, we will escort you to the nearest airfield, where you’ll hand over your passenger. If not, we’ll open fire.”

  “You honestly want me to believe you’re going to shoot down your girlfriend?”

  “Ask her. She knows I will.”

  “No chance.”

  Seth took careful aim and called the bluff. “Firing!”

  * * *

  Vanessa screamed as bullets sparked in the air less than twenty feet from the plane. Beside her, Zimmerman muttered an oath as he abruptly changed direction away from the helicopter and the spray of gunfire.

  Vanessa tried to catch her breath that was currently coming in gasps. Deep down she knew Seth was trying to help her; however, she also knew she was going to die if she didn’t do something, and fast. Think! she commanded herself.

  She looked over at Zimmerman, who wasn’t paying any attention to her now. With a steadying breath, Vanessa shifted. She rested one hand on the latch of her seatbelt, silently praying for divine guidance. Then bullets sparked around them again.

  Adrenaline rushed through her now as she sprang into action. In one fluid movement, Vanessa unlatched her seatbelt with her right hand and then immediately thrust her left elbow up, connecting with Zimmerman’s throat. Her eyes widened in disbelief when the now-unconscious Zimmerman simply slumped forward, causing the plane to change directions once more.