by DJ Erfert
Even Lucy could feel the stare Johnson placed on her dad. “When did you come into that intelligence?”
“It doesn’t matter, Agent Johnson. Just believe me.”
Mark said, “I believe you, sir. Do you know what kind of explosives?”
Cooper nodded, rubbing his face with his fingers. “Dynamite at the back door.”
“At the front door!” Lucy’s startled stare went up into her dad’s dark blue eyes.
Mark’s back straightened. “Is it like what we found two days ago?”
Lucy shook her head. “No, they aren’t dirty bombs. No tube, just several sticks taped together, and a few of them looked”—Lucy looked up into Agent Johnson’s stare—“shiny.” His eyes were squinting at her suspiciously.
“They were sweating,” Johnny whispered. “I’ve seen old dynamite before. We once had police evacuate the mile around a shed where six boxes of sticks had sweated into—”
“Nitroglycerine,” Johnson said, breaking into Johnny’s quiet sentence. “Damn!”
“All it takes is for them to bump together hard enough, or drop to the floor …” Johnny grasped Lucy’s shoulders. “That’s what caused the initial explosion. It set off the other two bundles.”
“Two others?” Lucy whispered.
He pulled her into a hug, and with his mouth next to her ear, said, “I saw Mark with his hand on the front doorknob, and then I was inside and I could see through a bedroom doorway. It was crowded with women and children. Dynamite sticks taped together were suspended in front of the window. They had the same nitro on the outside. Your dad said he saw it from the back door, you from the front—that makes at least three different locations.” Johnny tightened his embrace. “I saw it differently than you, didn’t I.”
Lucy nodded her head.
“Why?” he asked.
She had no answer to that question, or to why he could see inside her windows to begin with.
“Can this be changed?”
“I hope so,” she whispered, “or those children inside will die.”
“What?” Johnson asked, straightening his shoulders. “How do you know there are people inside?”
Lucy didn’t mean to speak so loud. Her patience had worn away.
“She’s got a hunch,” Mark said louder. “How can we move that dynamite without setting it off?” he asked, wiping his face with sleeve.
Johnny’s tight grip slackened. “With diesel fuel.” He turned and looked at the faces in the RV. “Or WD-40. It neutralizes the nitro and makes it inert. You can hit dynamite with a hammer, and it won’t explode without a detonation first. Remove that initial blast and all you have is something that will burn when you place it in a flame.”
Cooper nodded. “That would work. How do we get inside without setting it off?”
“Why do I feel like I’ve lost command?” Johnson asked, leaning his shoulder against the map.
“Dave—” Mark said, “please believe me—Cooper Steele and Lucy James know what they’re doing.”
Johnson scratched his head but kept a stare locked on Cooper while he thought. Lucy felt the seconds drag by.
“Okay, what do you suggest, Mr. Steele?”
“Call me Cooper. First call the military base in Yuma and get their Explosive Ordinance Disposal unit on their way—”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“But why you, Lucy?” Johnny grabbed the large can of petroleum distillate out of Kate’s hand. “There are other agents willing to go inside.”
“They don’t know what we know.” Lucy continued to braid her long hair with swift, sure fingers. “I speak Spanish fluently, and I’m the only one small enough to get through that bathroom window. It’s the most logical point of entry.” She looped a rubberband from her jeans pocket around the end. “All I need to do is soak the one bundle by the front door, and then get the people outside and out of the neighborhood. We can let the bomb disposal do the rest.”
“No, not by yourself,” Kate said, shaking an additional can of WD-40. “I’m not any bigger than you are. I’m climbing in after you. I’ll drench the bundle by the back door.”
Lucy took the can from Johnny’s hand and shoved it snug into the back of her jeans waistband. “Fine.”
Kate gathered her hair and twisted it into a bun. She used a clip from her handbag to secure her new do in place. The can of spray went in the back of her waistband, too.
“Can’t you just open that front window and let us inside?” Johnny asked, staying near them as they strode for the group. “You’ll have help getting those people out.”
Lucy stopped and turned to face her fiancé with her fists on her hips. “All it took was for one bomb to go off. It wiped out this whole block before we could really understand what happened—certainly before Mark could even think about running. Just one scared person needs to bump against it and …” Lucy shook her head.
“I’m coming too,” Junie said.
Lucy watched her best friend read the side of yet another can of WD-40. “No, you’re not!” She reached for the can, but Junie moved it behind her back.
“Yes, I am. I’m smaller than either one of you—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Lucy said, cutting her off. “You were retired up until this past week.” She made a grab for the can again, and Junie twisted away. “Stop that! You’re not coming with us, and that’s final.”
“You don’t have anything to say about this. It isn’t your mission.” Junie nodded her curly blond head at the large group of agents. “If I have permission from Agent Johnson, then I’m in.”
They headed for the large group of men and few women her dad and Agent Johnson were briefing.
“I wonder if any of the other drop houses have been rigged to blow up?” Junie asked quietly.
Lucy stopped walking. Could it be possible that the window she and her dad had weren’t of the same house? And Johnny? He’d somehow tapped into her curse—her gift—and had seen things she didn’t understand. Was there a second and third house in danger? Lucy nearly ran at Mark and came to a skidding stop next to him.
“Lucy—what’s wrong?” Mark asked, catching her by the shoulders.
With her pulse beating hard in her throat, she asked, “How many houses are under surveillance right now?”
Johnson said, “We have agents and officers at two other locations. One in Wellton,”—he gestured with his thumb—“about two miles west of our location, and another house in Dateland, about forty miles east.” He looked at his watch. “They’re scheduled to go in anytime now.”
“Stop them! Stop them now!” Lucy demanded. He didn’t move. Johnson just kept a narrowed stare on her. “If by any chance one or both of those locations are booby-trapped, then your agents are dead!”
Johnson softly cursed, dipping his head, but he took out his cell phone and hit two buttons. He waited only a few seconds before he said, “Pierson, stand down. I have intel that your target may be booby-trapped with old dynamite. I repeat, stand down until I contact you. Give me a few minutes to confirm …” He touched two more buttons and repeated the same order to a different agent. “Okay, Agent James, now show me you’re right.”
Lucy reached into her boot, took out her switchblade, and headed for the target house at a slow jog as she touched the mini walkie-talkie in her ear. With her fingernail, she flipped the tiny switch and turned it on.
“Can you hear me Dad?”
“I hear you fine, Lulu. I’m right behind you.”
Lucy didn’t bother looking to see if anybody else was following her. She quickened her pace.
“How do you read me, Lu?” Johnny asked.
The sound of his calm voice sent reassuring warmth inside Lucy’s chest. At least he wasn’t angry with her any longer. And she didn’t feel the intense fear she experienced after coming out of the window. Either she had effectively blocked Johnny’s emotions, or he had mastered his feelings. “Five by five, sweetheart.”
Between her dad’s men an
d Johnson’s contingent, the neighborhood had been quietly evacuated, and basically most of the small community, too. At least the civilians would be safe if she failed.
By the time they reached the side yard of the target house, every member of her group had checked in, making sure their device had worked as well. Junie’s voice sounded much too cheerful. She probably didn’t mean to be, but her excitement could lead to a fatal mistake.
Overgrown shrubbery kept them hidden well enough until they reached the back of the house, in case someone from the inside was looking out the window, or if Johnson’s intelligence about no activity in the area wasn’t accurate. Lucy couldn’t believe that a houseful of illegal aliens could sit quietly for a few days and not try to escape without being threatened in some way other than dynamite dangling from narrow cording.
The backyard had green, bushy Oleander plants blossomed with clusters of white, pink, and reddish flowers that created a security block from neighbors’ prying eyes. The clumpy grass had yellowed. The house’s stucco had deep cracks, and huge chunks near the foundation were missing. The place looked abandoned.
“I don’t hear any air-conditioning.” Her dad’s voice came quietly through her earpiece.
“I don’t either,” Kate replied just as softly. “But it’s not that warm today. Are you sure there are survivors inside?”
“I’m sure,” Cooper whispered.
The bathroom window was frosted, and Lucy couldn’t see inside. Using her knife, she wriggled the blade between the flimsy lock and the cheap metal jamb. The window slid sideways after she pushed. Rank, stale air drifted out of the small opening, but she could see a problem she needed to deal with before climbing through.
“Johnny—”
“Yeah, Lu?”
“Give me a leg up.” Lucy took out the WD-40 from her waistband while she waited till Johnny had his knee bent in front of her. After giving the can a few shakes, she squeezed in through the window and sprayed the sticks of dynamite suspended from the shower curtain rod by a short length of cord—the same type of cording she’d seen holding the dynamite from the front doorknob. Reaching in farther, Lucy gingerly turned the bundle while continuing the stream of smelly spray until she was convinced not a drop of nitro survived. She cut the cord with her sharp blade just above where she had a good grasp.
“Johnny, lower me to the ground—gently, please,” Lucy whispered. Without a word, he held her tightly around her hips and pulled her out. The dynamite came out last. Several men cussed behind her as she turned around with the bundle.
“Where is the EOD?” Cooper asked.
“They’re on the way,” Johnson said.
Johnny took the dynamite from Lucy’s hand and carried it by the short length of cord away from the house. “I think that settles the question, Agent Johnson,” he said, lowering the bundle into the can of diesel fuel they had prepared—just in case.
“You’re right.” Johnson lifted his phone and punched a couple of buttons.
“Lulu …” Her dad stepped closer. “We need to assume that each window is rigged the same way.”
“You’re right,” Kate said.
“We need to hurry.” Lucy turned toward the window and pulled herself through. Standing in the tub, she helped Kate inside. Junie slipped easily inside, landing in her arms. “Stay behind me.” When Junie opened her mouth, Lucy narrowed her eyes and frowned, daring her to complain. Nodding, Junie closed her mouth.
The spray hung in the air like an oily fog, threatening to choke Lucy as she snuck to the hallway. Just as she feared, women with children sat on the floor, their backs against the walls. There were a few young men, but it seemed everyone was slumped against each other.
Junie gasped. “Oh no …”
Lucy shook her head and whispered, “Kate, go to the kitchen door and soak that bundle. Make sure you spray it all the way around. Junie, you do the same,”—she pointed at the nearest doorway—“in that room. Kate, when you’re done, open the door, pass your package to Dad, then come back and find another one.” She looked at her team. “Okay?”
Kate nodded.
“Let’s get this done,” Junie said, heading toward the open doorway.
Lucy stepped over a few outstretched legs and went around the corner into the living room where more bodies littered the floor. Woman, young and old, with children tucked in their arms, were as still as the dead. The smell was nearly as bad. Lucy looked over at the front door. It looked just like in her window. But there was more.
Another bundle of dynamite was suspended over the front window. Her heart raced as she moved closer to the dynamite. She sprayed the bundle in front of the window first, saturating each stick while twisting the cord, turning the bundle. Instead of cutting it down, Lucy left it hanging and moved to the door. It would be trickier. The bundle was leaning against the wooden door. No sense in wasting time. She sprayed, being careful not to move the sticks with a hard stream.
She held her breath and lifted the cord, moving the bundle away from where it rested on the door, and continued to coat the sticks with WD-40. Her eyes stung. Her lungs burned. She stuck the can in the back of her waistband and pulled her switchblade again. With a quick and sure swipe, she cut the cord before opening the front door. Agent Johnson stood outside with another bucket of diesel fuel. Lucy lowered her package down into the watery liquid before going back inside the house. She had one more to cut down.
While she grasped the cord and readied her knife, Lucy heard movement come from behind. She glanced over her shoulder. Two women were trying to stand. With a quick slash, Lucy cut the cord and rushed the package out the door and into the awaiting diesel fuel.
“What’s your status,” Cooper asked.
Lucy waited, listening.
Junie said, “I found a package in the master bedroom—like what you said. I’m almost to the kitchen now.”
Kate’s voice came through Lucy’s earpiece. “I have the package from the kitchen door deactivated and submerged. I found another one in a second bedroom. I also have more victims in here.”
“I hear you. We have ambulances already on the way,” Cooper said.
“We have victims in the front room, too. And they’re waking up,” Lucy whispered.
“We’ll need a triage,” Johnny said.
“I agree,” Cooper said. “Get those people out of there!”
“Johnny …” Lucy strode around the front of the house feeling the icy after effect roiling in her chest growing stronger with each pulse. “It’s been changed,” she said breathlessly. She could hear his fast footfalls pounding on the ground, getting louder. He rushed around the corner as she dropped to her knees, but he caught her in his arms and pulled her to his chest before she fainted.
~*~
Lucy heard women wailing as she woke up. She lifted her head, but Johnny’s broad shoulders were in the way of her view. He’d taken her away from the house—away from the commotion. He’d kept her from being found out. “Dad?”
“He’s not awake yet,” Kate said quietly. “Give him another few seconds.”
“Is he safe?”
“Yes, Lucy. I’ve got him,” Kate whispered.
Lucy looked up into Johnny’s face. The tender smile on his lips sent a thrill rushing though her chest. “We need to find Mariposa’s sister and …” And nothing. Johnny leaned down, pressed his warm mouth onto hers, and kissed her. An exquisite pleasure blossomed inside her body, and Lucy wasn’t sure what emotions were hers and which were Johnny’s. Did it matter? She reached up and looped her arms around his neck, cinching them together while she deepened her kiss, intensifying her love for him with every passing accelerated heartbeat.
“Lulu? Are you alright?”
Reality intruded. Privacy was impossible. She should’ve taken out her ear walkie-talkie. Johnny pulled back, breathing heavily.
“Johnny, are you okay?” Cooper asked.
“Leave them alone,” Junie whispered.
Kate laughed.
Cooper cleared his throat.
Lucy smiled and pushed out of Johnny’s arm. “We should get back to the command center—find Mariposa’s family.”
“Sure, sweetheart.” Johnny touched her lips with his once more before lifting her to her feet.
A big red fire engine pulled to a stop down the street. A rescue truck had already arrived while Lucy was out cold. There wasn’t any sign of the Marine’s EOD truck, but considering the explosives were surrounded in diesel fuel, they weren’t going to blow up.
Kate and her dad came from around the back of the house walking slowly, holding hands. She knew the emergency had passed when Raul came out of the house carrying a conscious young boy in his arms, and Mariposa had her arms around a woman who looked remarkably like her. Sisters! They looked in rough shape. The sister stumbled, and Mariposa kept her from falling, but being alive was everything in Lucy’s book.
“I need to talk to Raul,” Lucy said, heading for them. EMTs, paramedics, firefighters, and law enforcement officers of every position swarmed in the drop house and walked out those victims who could escape on their own, and carried victims out who were too weak or still unconscious. A large triage area had been set up near the fire engines with big blue tarps laid out on the ground where patients were already being treated. IVs were being set up, and water bottles being opened.
An uncomfortable thought passed though Lucy. How many of those victims where hostages from her border crossing, like Mariposa’s family? Were they meant to die no matter what? Whoever placed them inside that house didn’t look like they were coming back—not with the way the dynamite had been placed. And what of the other two drop houses?
“Agent Johnson?” Lucy approached the ICE agent as he laid a quiet woman he had in his arms down on the tarp. He looked up at her. “Did they find the other drop houses booby-trapped?” A firefighter kneeled down next to them. Without answering, Johnson got up, leaving the woman, and took hold of Lucy’s upper arm. He walked her away from the triage area.
“When my men entered the other two target houses, they found only illegals inside. No dynamite. They looked like regular drop houses.” He still hadn’t let go of her arm. Johnson was a big man. His grip was hurting, squeezing with strength he probably didn’t realize he was exerting. “How did you know about this house being loaded with explosives? And don’t give me that crap about having intel, or you would’ve said something about it before that moment!”
