“Won’t that take too long?” she asked, her grip tightening on his arm.
“Let’s hope not.”
“Tell me what you’re going to do, please.”
“No. You need plausible deniability. I wish you didn’t even know what the task was, but unfortunately, I can’t erase it from your memory like a damn hard drive.”
“Dillon—”
“Trust me, babe. Now I gotta make some calls.”
* * *
Kat couldn’t remember ever having been so scared. Fear for the life of one’s child must rank as one of the highest because hers had skyrocketed to unbearable heights. In an ironic and convoluted way, Dillon’s ignorance of his paternity was probably helping him maintain the concentration he needed to organize what he was now calling an op.
She paced the living room of her bungalow until she got dizzy. Dillon escorted her to the bedroom and insisted she lie down. Every passing second felt like a needle piercing her skin.
Time crawled by. She wanted to do something. Get it over with. Free her daughter. Dillon almost seemed lucky to have a purpose, although she was sure the pressure accompanying that purpose was heavy. Helplessness began to crush her hopes like a massive boulder.
When they first arrived at the house, Dillon had searched it for bugs and found none. But to protect against the Chinese eavesdropping with other external devices, he sat next to the blaring radio to make his phone calls. He refused to tell her whom he was calling. His refusal had the unintended consequence of increasing her stress through speculation.
Finally, when she thought she couldn’t stand another second of waiting, he marched into the bedroom. His grim expression sent her heart into freefall. His gaze flicked to the crib and other baby stuff before reconnecting with hers.
“We should go,” he said flatly.
“Did you get—”
Quickly, he pressed his fingers to her lips and shook his head. With his other hand, he switched on the clock radio beside the nightstand lamp and then removed his fingers from her mouth.
“Did you get it all arranged? Whatever it is,” Kat said just loud enough for him to hear.
“No. But it’s in process. Starting something like this in the middle of the night doesn’t help. Dealing with San Diego, Washington, and Beijing time zones makes it worse.”
“Washington?”
“State Department, CIA, NRC, Homeland, NSA, FBI Headquarters, and a few other agencies.”
“Jesus. I didn’t think you spooks talked that much to each other.”
“I’m not a spook. That’s the CIA.”
“Shouldn’t we wait until everyone agrees?” The fear of doing the wrong thing had replaced the fear of doing nothing.
“That never happens. State lives in its own fantasy world in which everyone sits around the campfire singing ‘Kumbaya.’ The rest of us know the world’s full of shit and evil, but State can’t handle it. If we wait for them, the bad stuff goes down, and we can’t stop it.”
“That’s a pessimistic outlook.”
“No, it’s realistic. And I admit there isn’t a diplomatic bone in my body.” He shook his head. “We can’t wait any longer. Those Chinese assholes might get antsy and do something…stupid.”
“Are you…we…going to kill Charlie?”
“Only if I have to.”
* * *
They arrived at Diablo Beach about one a.m. Frustrated by the delays from so many cooks in the kitchen, Dillon hoped at least some of the op prep he’d ordered had been carried out. If not, this was going to be a long, unpredictable, and dangerous night.
Adrenaline building, he had his FBI creds in hand when he pulled the truck up to the guard at the security gate. “I’m—”
“FBI Special Agent Dillon O’Malley. I’ve been hearing your name and seeing your ugly mug for the last hour. Thank God, you’re finally here,” the man said. He stuck out his right hand. “Simon Clarke, head of Diablo Beach security. Not that I’m particularly proud of the fact at this moment.”
“Thanks, Clarke. I’m glad to finally be here too. Where do we stand?”
“FBI Supervisory Special Agent Rex Kelley—the guy who read us in on this—says you all are after Charlie Lee. Tells me the guy’s perpetrating a domestic terrorist attack. Kinda hard to believe about Charlie, but I guess he had us all fooled.”
“Is my team here?”
Clarke glanced at his clipboard. “Yeah. I understand Kelley’s in San Diego, but the following agents are on site: Alfren, Regis, Hall, Barton, and now you. Here’s a map marking their locations. Kelley told them where to go. Everyone’s invisible unless you give the word. He said we’re supposed to look like business as usual. Understand we got some ‘outsiders’ watchin’. What the fuck does that mean?”
Dillon snorted at the guard’s rambling response and then scanned the map, noting the agents’ positions. “They left you some equipment for me,” he said.
“Oh yeah.” The man handed him a communication earpiece and two Kevlar vests.
“Where’s Charlie now?”
The guard grunted. “Took a bit to find the fucker, especially when we had to act like we weren’t looking for him.”
“You couldn’t spot him on the security cams?”
“No, that would’ve been too easy. Looked there first, of course. But he’s holed up in the small security office in the southwest quadrant. That area hasn’t been used since decommissioning started in 2013, and the cameras over there aren’t activated.”
“That’s not good,” Dillon said.
“Damn straight, it’s not good. I’ve been hollering about it to management for months. Anyway, I told Bob Smith, the guard who found Charlie, to stay put and keep his eyes on him.”
“Good.” Dillon consulted the map. “This X is Charlie?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s in the office?”
“Not much. But apparently, he’s got himself a computer in there.”
“Since it’s a security office, does he have access to the cams?”
Clarke thought a moment. “The regular monitors have been removed. He might be able to do some geek magic and get into the cam feed with just that damn computer though.”
Dillon knew for a fact that the cam feed could be accessed with geek magic—remotely even. When this was over, he’d have a lot of security recommendations for Diablo Beach…if it hadn’t melted down. “See if you can determine whether he’s getting the feed. We need to know if he’s watching us.”
“On it.”
“What’s he carrying?”
“A nine millimeter semiautomatic.”
“Nothing bigger?”
Clarke’s eyebrows shot up. “Not that the company issued.”
“How many other employees on site?”
“Dozen total. All accounted for. Five of us are armed security. The other staff are technicians, like Ms. MacKenzie.”
“What were Kelley’s instructions?”
“We’re in lockdown. Everybody has been warned that Charlie is armed and dangerous, and they’ve been advised to shelter in place.”
“All right. Keep this place locked down tight. I sure as hell don’t want the asshole getting away.”
He parked the truck in the employees’ lot. Standing beside it, he strapped on the Kevlar vest and then adjusted his holster and the Glock in his rear waistband. Intensity had taken over, and he was in agent mode. “O’Malley checking in,” he advised his boss.
“Glad you made it to the party, O’Malley. We were beginning to wonder if you were standing us up,” SSA Rex Kelley joked.
“If ASAIC Carter hadn’t invited State to join us, I would’ve been here an hour ago.”
“How are they doing?”
“Still working on a duet of ‘Kumbaya’ with Headquarters.”
“Glad you got away.”
“Me too. Let’s do this.” He turned to Kat, who hadn’t said a word since they’d arrived. God, she looked shaken and fragile, but dete
rmined. “I wish you’d wait at the security gate with Clarke.”
“I can’t, Dillon. My daughter’s life is at stake. I think I can help you. If I tell Charlie that the Chinese have Skye, I believe he’ll stop this awful attack.”
He didn’t share her optimism. “Then promise me you’ll obey my orders.”
“Yes, sir.”
After they got the Kevlar vest on Kat, they scurried across the parking lot. Dillon glanced up at the marine layer hanging overhead, threatening to drop like a blanket and shroud everything in fog. Decreased visibility was a complication he didn’t need. Charlie knew this place better than he or Kat. The terrorist would have a definite advantage playing hide-and-seek in the shadows and fog. For now at least, the marine layer reflected the glow from the exterior lights, giving the whole property an eerie yellowish tinge. That, Dillon could live with.
When they reached the cover of a large building, he pulled the map from his pocket. “Tell me about the southwest quadrant.”
“I don’t know much. It’s been closed off since I started work here.”
“Anything helps.”
She twisted the map around so she could get her bearings. “Okay, so Charlie is the X in the security office in this building. It’s adjacent to the seawall. Right here.” She pointed to the spot on the map.
“Seawall?”
“Yeah. It’s thirty feet high, stairs to ground level at each end, and a catwalk the entire length for maintenance. Sits right on the beach. They built it to protect against tsunamis, since those can be a result of earthquakes like what happened at Fukushima.”
“What’s the fastest way to the ground from the security office?”
She pointed to another spot on the map. “The buildings on the ocean side of the compound have an elevator and stairs at the west end. They will take you all the way down to ground level.”
“Can you get outside the plant to access the beach there?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only gotten to the beach from the northwest quadrant.”
“There’s a gate at that end?”
“Yes. Why are you asking about the beach? Aren’t you going to grab him in the office?”
“Just being prepared. Everybody get all that detail?” he asked his team and Rex.
Five affirmatives answered in his ear.
He stuffed the map in his pocket and turned to Kat. “Last chance. Are you sure about this?”
“I don’t have a choice, Dillon. She’s my daughter.” She looked away. “Not being a parent, you really can’t understand.”
The comment hit below the belt, but he ignored the jab. “All right. Let’s do this.”
Since Kat knew the compound better than he did, he let her direct them along the path with the least visibility to the cams. When possible, they used inside hallways, but they also had to hustle from the shadows of one building to the other.
The roar of the nearby waves drowned out other nighttime noises. Moisture from the marine layer coated everything with a sweat-like sheen.
They passed Special Agent Staci Hall at the corner of a building. A nod was the only communication between them. Dillon’s eyes and head were in constant motion: seeing, assimilating, analyzing. Adrenaline pumped through his veins.
Several minutes later, Rex was in his earpiece with an update. “Good news. Clarke says Charlie isn’t tapping into the cam feed. You don’t have to worry that he’s seen you.”
“Nice. We’re almost to the building.”
Dillon and Kat used the inside stairwell at the east end to reach the third floor. With his Glock drawn, he exited first into the empty hallway. As they moved toward the security office, a door behind them swung open. He pivoted and aimed.
“Whoa. Stop,” the guard gasped.
Dillon had already lowered his gun the instant the unfamiliar face registered. In addition to being black and not Asian, the guard was huge, probably six eight and three hundred fifty pounds. No way to confuse him with wiry Charlie Lee’s appearance, which Dillon had memorized earlier. “Best not to sneak up on me,” he spat.
“Got that right,” the guard said, clearly shaken. “I’m Bob Smith, by the way.”
“What’s happening?” Dillon swiveled slowly, his gaze sweeping over the entire hallway and evaluating the surroundings.
“Nothing. Haven’t heard a peep out of him. Can’t believe this shit is really happening.”
“Well, it is. Stay sharp.” He pointed down the hall. “Why’s the red light blinking on that camera?”
Chapter 25
“Shouldn’t be. These cams aren’t working.” The guard adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose and squinted at the tiny camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Hell, that’s not even one of ours.”
“Fuck,” Dillon hissed.
Just as he grabbed Kat and shoved her behind him, the security office door burst open. Charlie flew into the hallway, firing.
Kat screamed. Smith turned to flee and stampeded into Dillon.
Two pops later and Smith’s massive body fell forward onto Dillon, the guard’s dead weight slamming both of them to the floor. Dillon’s head bounced hard on impact, but he didn’t lose the grip on his gun. Unfortunately, it was pinned beneath more than three hundred pounds of human flesh.
“Run!” he shouted at Kat.
Instead, she bent down and futilely tried to push Bob off him.
Gun raised, Charlie marched toward them. “Stop! Don’t move!”
“Kat, get the fuck out of here,” Dillon yelled.
“Not without you,” she cried.
His gun trained on her, Charlie stopped about twenty feet away. “Don’t make me shoot you, Kat.”
She straightened and swayed. Dillon held his breath. Maybe if she passed out, Charlie would ignore her.
Her eyes wide, her face paler than pale, she regained her balance and drew a deep breath. “Charlie, d-don’t do this. T-talk to me. I’m your friend. I can—”
“Shut up! You can’t do a damn thing.”
“You don’t understand. The Chinese have Skye. They’ll k-kill her.”
He blinked in surprise. “That sucks. I’ve always known those fuckers can’t be trusted.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Every mission has collateral damage.”
“Charlie, please—”
“It’s too late, Kat. Now slide Bob’s gun over to me. Don’t even think about trying anything.” When she didn’t move, he shouted, “Do it or your squashed friend here gets a bullet in the head. You don’t want more collateral damage, do you?” At the sound of the stairwell door opening, Charlie directed his aim to the end of the hallway behind them.
“Stay back, stay back!” Dillon yelled.
The door thudded shut.
Frowning, Charlie shifted his attention back to them. “Get the goddamn gun, Kat,” he snapped.
She bent down carefully and retrieved the guard’s gun from his holster. Dillon’s heart skipped a beat when she hesitated and flicked a glance at him. Don’t try it, Katriona. Dear God, don’t even think about it.
Kat might’ve gotten his mental message because she laid the gun on the floor and shoved it toward Charlie.
He snatched up the gun and stuck it in his pocket. “Now his.”
“B-but it’s—” she said.
“I see part of it from here. You can raise that whale just enough to get it.” He wisely stepped out of Dillon’s line of sight. “Whoever you are, don’t bother trying to get a shot off or Kat will have a hole in her the size of the Grand Canyon.”
“Relax, Charlie. No one wants this to end badly. Kat’s right. Let’s talk. What can we do to make this work out for you?” Dillon said calmly.
The guy laughed. “I don’t need your help. I’ve already started the process. It’s happening as we speak. Hello, Armageddon.”
“I’m sorry,” Kat whispered as she slid the Glock from Dillon’s fingers.
“Just do as he says. Be smart. Don’t try anything.”
; She nodded.
“Slide it over, Kat, then come here. We need to leave.”
She did as instructed.
“Charlie, let’s work this out,” Dillon tried again.
“Shut the fuck up!” He grabbed the second gun and jammed it into his pocket.
When Kat reached him, he grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the door marked Stairs at the far west end of the hall. Her eyes connected with Dillon’s for a moment before she was gone.
“All clear,” Dillon hollered, pushing and shoving, trying to free himself from the mass of humanity sprawled on top of him. The eastern stairwell door banged open, and Special Agent Staci Hall moved into the hall, gun raised and ready.
“Shit! You okay, O’Malley?”
“Better than Bob. Get him off me.”
“Where’s Charlie?”
“Went down the west stairs with Kat. Hurry. I think he’s already shut down the cooling systems.”
Even though Bob outweighed her by more than two hundred pounds, Staci managed to lift one side just enough for Dillon to leverage himself free.
“Go. I’ll catch up,” he ordered.
When Staci darted down the hall toward the stairs, he removed his shoe and retrieved the new burner phone he’d hidden hours ago. He punched in Chaos’s number. God, he hoped he wasn’t too late.
“Release the Kraken,” he said distinctly and disconnected without waiting for a reply.
Scrambling to his feet, he yanked the second gun from his rear waistband, ignoring the pain from having it smashed into his back. Then his feet pounded down the hallway as fast as they’d ever carried him. Just before he reached the west stairwell entrance, he spotted another door at the end of the hallway: Seawall Access.
* * *
By the time they reached the bottom of three flights of stairs, Kat’s legs had turned to Jell-O, and her lungs burned. “Charlie, stop! I can’t breathe.”
“I don’t care. You’re my insurance.”
He threw open the exterior door and dragged her outside despite her protests. She managed to get her feet back under her and stumbled in his wake. When they reached a gate, she realized he was leaving the compound to escape across the beach.
Wanted (FBI Heat Book 3) Page 17
