by Katie Reus
He had to holster his weapon as he reached the top of the eight-foot pile so he could use both hands to climb over. Once he cleared it and saw what had been the platform, his gut tightened again. Bodies were littered everywhere. Some moving, some not. He could still hear a few shouts for help but didn’t have a visual on the voices. Probably people buried under rubble. He couldn’t think about them right now. He had to find the rest of the team, stop another attack that might be coming. Damn it, he hoped Cole was okay. He’d been on the fringes just like Tucker. His only saving grace.
Carefully he climbed down the other side of the pile, his feet slipping at the bottom. He quickly righted himself and started moving around the west side of the platform, since it was the least damaged. He withdrew the cell Burkhart had given him because his comm wasn’t working. He called Cole, who answered immediately. Relief flooded him. If he’d lost Cole . . . no, he couldn’t even go there.
“Where are you?” Cole demanded.
Damn, it was good to hear his voice. “Inside the station. I was in the stairwell when it happened. I’m fine. You okay?” he asked quietly as he continued picking his way around to the other side of the platform. He’d seen three agents on this side. When he saw a man in a suit sitting against a pillar, pressing a hand to his bleeding head, he held the phone away from his mouth for a moment. “Help is on the way,” he murmured.
The guy nodded, clearly out of it. Tucker hated that he couldn’t help everyone, but he had priorities now. Finding the missing agents and Vane was critical.
“Yeah, the shooter’s dead. Burkhart’s racing toward me right now. Hold on.” A second later Burkhart came on the line.
“Who’s down there with you?”
“I haven’t spotted anyone yet. Is the command center okay?” He had to know that Karen was unharmed.
“Yes. The attack was only on the subway.”
The relief that surged through Tucker was short-lived as a sharp pop, pop, pop rent the air. Plaster and tile exploded a few feet from his head.
On instinct, he dove over a small pile of jagged bricks, his jacket snagging on something sharp as he landed on another pile of debris. He dropped the cell phone as he withdrew his weapon.
“Victor.” Someone snapped out his call sign as if from a distance.
Without moving from his position, he belly-crawled the few feet to where the phone had skidded and held it up to his ear. “I’m here.”
“What’s going on?” Burkhart demanded.
“Someone shot at me. I don’t have a visual on the shooter yet.”
“The agents guarding Vane haven’t checked in and they’re not answering their cells. Operate under the assumption that it’s Vane. I’m heading back to the command center now to see if we can track him. Keep this line open.”
“I will. Putting it in my coat pocket now. Going to try for a visual.”
“Affirmative.”
Tucker slipped his phone into his pocket and crawled down a few more feet, using the rubble as cover. Easing out from position, weapon drawn, he quickly swept the area.
There were fallen bodies and destruction everywhere, but no Vane. If he was Vane and he’d had an opportunity to grab a weapon, he’d go for the escape. It would make sense in this kind of chaos.
Instead of doing a full sweep and searching the rest of the place, Tucker went with his gut and backtracked the way he’d come. Once he reached the top of the first pile he’d climbed, he kept his weapon in his hand. Adrenaline pumping, he peered over the top.
Clear.
Moving faster this time, he scrambled down the other side. As his feet hit the bottom, he could hear Burkhart’s voice.
With his free hand, he fished the phone out. “Yeah?”
“Got a ping on one of Vane’s trackers. It’s flickering in and out. He’s moving, though. On foot, given his speed. Once you exit, move south. We’ll guide you.”
“On it.” As he cleared the top of the stairs and out onto street level, he felt his heart jump into his throat. Karen was racing down the sidewalk toward him. Her eyes widened, as if she was startled to see him ascending the subway entrance. Sirens wailed louder now, so he holstered his weapon, not needing to draw attention to himself. The cops and EMTs would be here in less than thirty seconds if he had to guess.
“What are you doing?” he demanded as she reached him, pulling her back down into the first few steps of the stairwell.
“I had to know you were okay.” Her eyes were wide as she scanned him, looking for injuries.
“Grab him before he gets in a vehicle,” Burkhart ordered.
“I’ve got to grab Vane,” Tucker said to her, moving back to the sidewalk.
She fell in step with him and he could tell by the set of her jaw she planned to go with him. He couldn’t waste any time convincing her to go back to the van. “Karen’s with me.”
Burkhart cursed, but continued giving orders. “We can’t get anyone else on the comm and Cole’s too far away. You’re the closest agent I have in the field now.”
“Understood.” There was no way Tucker was going to lose Vane, no way this bastard was escaping. Part of Tucker wanted to tell Karen to head back to the command center, to try to convince her she’d be safer there, but for all he knew there were more armed men with RPGs at the Metro stop. He’d rather she be with him where he could protect her personally.
Burkhart ordered him to turn left at the next street. Three cop cars whizzed past, sirens blaring. As they waited for an ambulance to fly by, Burkhart cursed. “He’s moving faster now. Too fast to be on foot.”
“I’m giving you to Karen.” Tucker handed the phone to her as they started running across the street. “I’m stealing a car and I need you to direct me with his instructions,” he said to her as they reached the other side. He couldn’t break into a vehicle and hold his phone at the same time.
She snagged the cell phone without missing a beat, her strides steady as she moved at a fast clip. As she talked to Burkhart, he motioned to an older-model minivan parked along a curb. There wasn’t anyone on the street now, not with everything happening blocks over. It would be complete chaos there.
He made quick work of the lock, then hot-wired the van. All in less than sixty seconds. Karen held the phone away from her ear as he pulled away from the curb.
“Keep heading east, it looks like he’s headed for the highway,” she said before putting it on speaker.
“I can’t leave here right now, not until I find my people.” Burkhart’s voice was tense and Tucker knew this had to be hard on him. Because there was no way all his agents had survived that blast. An RPG wouldn’t have killed everyone, but the fallout from the debris had been bad, at least from Tucker’s visual. There’d be upward of twenty to thirty deaths, minimum. “Elliott thinks from Vane’s trajectory that he’s headed for a private airport about ten minutes from where you are. I’ve got a team headed in that general direction just in case. They’re farther out than you— Make a right at the next light,” he said abruptly.
When he didn’t use a street name Tucker realized they were tracking his cell too. Of course. He was so focused on stopping Vane he wasn’t thinking.
“I’m sending Selene after you too, but she’s . . . Hold on.” Burkhart barked out orders to someone in the background; then he cursed again, this time savagely. “Another team just picked up Hillenbrand at a townhome he owns. Not in his name, but one of his corporations’.”
Tucker glanced at Karen, saw the relief on her face. “He alone?”
“No, had some guys with him. Looks like he was planning a trip out of the country. It’s a fucking shit storm here. I’m giving the order to move on everyone we’ve had under surveillance now. Rayford Osborn and all the other names Vane gave us. I’m giving you to Elliott now. He’ll be patched in to me at all times. Bring me Vane.” The words were an order before he handed them off to Elliott.
“Hey, guys. You’re only a couple blocks behind him. He’s making his way east, s
o if we lose the tracker, keep going to the airport.”
“Have you guys heard from Ortiz?” Karen asked abruptly.
Tucker shot a glance at her, saw how pale she was. Those were her people in that blast too. Reaching out, he grasped her hand. She took it, linking her fingers between his and holding tight.
“Not yet. The local PD and a couple other agencies have already sent rescue parties in. They’ve found survivors and our guys are strong.” Elliott’s voice cracked before he cleared his throat. “Focus on Vane. I’ll keep you updated as soon as I find out anything on this end.”
“Thanks, Elliott.” Karen’s voice was soft, but Tucker heard the pain there, wished he could take it away.
As they drove, some of Tucker’s adrenaline ebbed. Not completely, but he felt more in control now. Elliott directed them until they hit the highway, just as he’d predicted.
“Why’d you leave the command center?” Tucker asked Karen during a lull in Elliott’s directions.
“We lost communication with all of you, audio and visual, and I didn’t think really. Selene headed for the other entrance where the shooter was and I . . . I had to know you were okay. We’d lost a visual of you on the cameras even before the blast. Honestly I didn’t really have a plan. I thought I’d lost you. . . .” She blinked rapidly, looked out the window.
His throat tightened and he grasped her hand again. She’d raced headfirst into danger because she’d been worried about him. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her, but he wasn’t letting go. He started to respond when Elliott spoke, his voice excited. “He’s getting off at the next exit. We’re already in contact with the airport security. You two will be granted access with no hassle. Security has been instructed to stay back and give you room to work. We don’t want to spook him or risk him getting suspicious that we’re onto him.”
And if the security got involved it could turn into a giant cluster fuck. It’d be a hell of a lot easier for Tucker to bring him down solo. Nice and neat. And there was no time for him to wait for the backup team. Not when Vane was headed to the airport. Seconds would matter at this point. “Do we know how he’s planning to leave?” Obviously he was going private, but he’d have to use a company.
“Not yet. If he’s going to attempt to leave the country, it’ll be under an alias. We haven’t found one yet, but we’re scouring the charter companies.”
Getting through airport security was as easy as Elliott had predicted, though the guards at the gate had eyed the minivan and Tucker and Karen with surprise. Probably because he was dressed like a homeless guy and she looked as though she should be out running a marathon. Not exactly federal agent dress code.
“He’s probably going to hire a private charter to up-state New York,” Elliott said after they’d cleared security. “Get as close to Canada as he can, then head over in a car.”
Tucker figured the same thing. It would make sense.
“Or at least I’m guessing,” Elliott continued. “Head to hangar D-Eight. He just entered it and . . . huh, it’s a helicopter charter flight service. One sec. . . .” The sound of typing filled the air as Elliott likely hacked into their system. “According to their schedule they’ve got one of their helos already on a tour and one scheduled to leave in half an hour. Guy named Theo Smith made the reservation last minute from . . .” More typing. “A cell phone registered to one of our agents.” Elliott cursed but quickly regained his composure. “Must have used it and then left it behind because it’s still pinging from the blast site. Gotta be Vane. Shit, looks like another call was made to Osborn. Give me a sec.” Elliott would be telling Burkhart that Osborn had likely been alerted before Burkhart had ordered all his teams to move in.
Hopefully they’d brought him down first. He wouldn’t get far anyway.
“We’re almost there,” Karen said as Tucker continued driving.
It was a cold, sunny day with high-priced planes and a few helicopters parked on the tarmac and countless more in hangars. A new shot of adrenaline surged through him. They were closing in on Vane. Tucker was going to leave Karen behind when he brought him down. He couldn’t risk her getting caught in the cross fire. He didn’t think she’d balk about staying in the vehicle. Soon he and his guys would have their lives completely back.
“Any news on Hillenbrand?” Tucker asked, wanting as many details as he could get.
“He’s in a secure holding cell now, but Burkhart hasn’t been able to break away to talk to him yet.”
Because he was helping the ground crew pull out bodies. Something Elliott didn’t have to say out loud, but both Tucker and Karen knew it.
“What about the others?” Karen asked.
“Osborn hasn’t been found, but we’ve got a team at his house, his work, and his wife’s real estate agency. She’s convinced we have the wrong man.” He snorted. “You’re close to the hangar now.”
“What’s the best place to park and remain hidden?” he asked, knowing Elliott had the schematics of the entire airport.
“Hangar next door should be fine. It’s a storage unit for helicopters, owned by the same charter company. But the backup team is only . . . twelve minutes behind you.”
“I’m not waiting.” No way in hell was he giving Vane even twelve extra minutes. Anything could happen in that time. He glanced at Karen. “And I need you to stay here.” The van had dark tinting on the windows and would give her good cover. “If you see anything out of the ordinary, just leave.” He didn’t know enough about the airport layout to have her hide somewhere and he’d rather her be in control of a vehicle with a clear mode of escape.
He was glad when she nodded. “You be safe.”
Nodding, he didn’t say anything else while he parked next to another vehicle in a makeshift parking area where Elliott had directed them. Now it was time to take Vane down.
Karen tried not to stare at the timer she’d activated on the phone. It wasn’t as though the team would show up in exactly twelve minutes, but the analyst in her needed to see the countdown. Tucker was more than capable, but she wouldn’t apologize for being concerned about him. Only a minute and a half had ticked by. She hated just sitting here while Tucker was out there hunting Vane down and placing himself in danger.
Turning in her seat, she glanced in the side mirrors of the minivan. Tucker had parked in a small parking area next to the neighboring hangar, beside a silver Jeep. They’d turned the minivan off so the engine wouldn’t make any noise while she waited. So far she hadn’t seen anyone entering or leaving the hangar, but even if they did, it wasn’t the one Tucker was infiltrating. She hated not having him or that hangar in her line of vision. And she hated that he’d gone in alone.
Vane was only a small cog in all this. Now that Hillenbrand had been taken into custody, they’d bring down everyone in this organization of insanity. Or at least that was the hope. But Karen knew that bringing down Vane meant a lot to Tucker because of the man’s personal betrayal. Even if Hillenbrand had approached Vane, the DEA agent had to have been the one to suggest which people to use as pawns. And he was the reason Max Southers was dead.
Tucker would never forget that. Neither would Wesley for that matter. Karen knew it didn’t matter what Wesley had said about negotiating with Vane; in the end, her boss would make sure he paid dearly for his crimes.
“Have you heard anything else?” Karen asked Elliott, who was quiet except for rampant clicking on his keyboard. She knew he was handling about half a dozen things right now and could hear other analysts in the background, but she couldn’t help worrying about their people. Guilt threaded through her that she wasn’t there to help, but she had to know Tucker was okay and the price of that decision was sitting here waiting in an agony of suspense.
“Not yet. I’m sorry. But Wesley hasn’t checked in yet.”
“Thanks.” She certainly couldn’t bother her boss about that now, not when he was being pulled in twenty different directions himself. She could only imagine the destruction
inside the subway. The exterior hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought, but that might not matter if enough structural damage had been done inside.
“The tracker is out,” Elliott said abruptly.
“What?”
“Vane’s tracker flickered off and never came back online.”
Which could mean nothing. Or it could mean that he’d found it. What if he was aware that they were onto him? He’d be ready for Tucker. Or he could be leaving for another escape route. And what if he had more men with him? The intel they had didn’t seem to suggest that, but it was possible. He’d called Osborn, so he’d at least reached out to someone.
Ten minutes until the backup team arrived. Which felt like an eternity.
She tensed when she saw a black Lexus nearing the parking area. Even though the windows were darkly tinted, she ducked lower in her seat and watched the vehicle slow, then park five car lengths down from her.
A man exited a moment later, then glanced around, his gaze flicking over the van she was in, but he clearly didn’t see her as he continued scanning the surrounding area. Dressed in a long gray peacoat, black slacks, and dress shoes, he had an overnight bag in one hand. He looked her way again and she leaned forward this time, knowing the tinted windows covered her.
Her heart jumped into her throat as recognition slammed into her. “Rayford Osborn just showed up,” she whispered to Elliott even though Osborn couldn’t possibly hear her.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. It’s him. He’s headed for the rear of the storage hangar.” Probably parked here and was doing the same thing Tucker had done: heading for the neighboring hangar. “He’s got to be working with Vane.” It couldn’t be a coincidence that both men had shown up here at the same time.
“Hang tight. I’ve got to alert Wesley.” He clicked off before she could respond.
Silencing the cell phone, she tucked it in her jacket pocket and slid from the vehicle. She didn’t care what Tucker had said about waiting. He had no idea that Osborn was here. For all she knew, the man could take Tucker off guard, ambush him.
