Stolen (Lucy Kincaid Novels)

by Allison Brennan

  Sean’s blood ran cold. “None of this is going to work.”

  “I don’t even care if you’re working for the FBI or against them or whatever idiotic plan you had in your head. You think your little girlfriend is going to take you back after this?” She laughed. “You are the best fall guy. You did everything I expected. Fell right in line.”

  No way could Sean reason with Skye. He was going to have to play along. And hope that Noah and Rick didn’t believe whatever evidence had been fabricated.

  And his gun. God, who had they killed with his gun?

  “Do you think that breakfast this morning was just to feed you?”

  His prints. His DNA. His presence in the house. They were setting him up in more ways than one.

  Skye’s face lit up. “Oh, I have a brilliant idea. Come with me, partner.”

  “I’m not your partner,” he said.

  “Well, maybe not, but when the police raid the house, they’ll think you were involved from the beginning.” She leaned over and kissed him. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. Her eyes flashed, but she smiled. She put her hand up to stop Evan from hitting him again.

  “When I’m done with you, everyone, even your precious Lucy, will believe that you had this whole thing planned. Remember that. Stay in line, Sean.” She said to Evan, “Get the blueprints ready. Sean has a lot of homework.”

  Evidence? What was she having him steal? She and Kurt LeGrand had stolen from Kurt’s employer—had they hidden the money in a place they couldn’t get it? A bank? And now they needed Sean to retrieve it? A bank job would take a lot of time and planning to set up. He hadn’t hacked into a bank in years.

  Kurt LeGrand stepped into the room and glared at Sean. “We have to leave now.”

  “He hasn’t even looked at the blueprints.”

  “Pack it up. We have the vehicles running. The feds are on their way. Someone fucked up. It’s only a matter of time before they find this place. I’m not waiting for them.”

  “What about Duke?” Skye asked.

  “We’re torching the barn. That’ll keep the feds busy.”

  Sean clenched his fists. “Don’t—I’ll do what you want. Don’t hurt Duke.”

  “Who cares about your brother?”

  “If he dies, I won’t lift a finger to help you.”

  “Not even to save your girlfriend?”

  LeGrand held up his cell phone. On the screen was a picture of Lucy, bound and gagged, unconscious. There was blood on her chest.

  Sean literally saw red. He lunged for LeGrand and had his hands around his neck. “You touch her, I’ll kill you. I’ll—”

  A sharp pain in his kidneys had him dropping to his knees. LeGrand kicked Sean in the chest and he fell over.

  “Get him in the fucking truck,” LeGrand said, rubbing his neck. “We leave now.”

  Sean’s stomach twisted in knots. “You have no idea who you’re fucking with,” he said through the pain.

  “All I know is, I’m smarter and better prepared. By the time the feds figure it out, I’ll be so far out of their boundaries they won’t know where to start looking.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Rick Stockton stayed at FBI headquarters while Noah and Jack joined the SWAT unit headed to White Plains. He generally liked his job as an assistant director because he had a lot of authority and autonomy, but times like this he wished he were still in the field.

  Rick joined Suzanne Madeaux to interview Joyce Bonner. Bonner had brought her attorney. Rick didn’t like it, but he would work around it.

  “Ms. Bonner, I don’t generally interview suspects or witnesses,” he began. “I’m Assistant Director Rick Stockton from the national office. I hope you understand the severity of this situation and that you’ll cooperate fully.”

  “Of course my client will cooperate,” her attorney, Harold Grove, said.

  “Good,” Rick said. “I want to show you a tape.” He nodded to Suzanne, who played the tape of Joyce Bonner being beaten by her husband, then her husband being beaten by her father and Senator Paxton. Suzanne paused it right after the senator shot Thomas Lynch.

  “My client wasn’t in the room when her husband was shot, and as you can see, she was under great duress. I’d like to authenticate the tape and we’ll—”

  “Senator Paxton has already made a statement verifying the tape. He hired a group of thieves to steal the tape and everything else from your private safe at the pharmaceutical company. What I want to know is what were you working on with the senator.”

  “My client—”

  “Counselor,” Rick said, “enough. I know that a bio-toxin was taken from the lab. I have two missing civilians and a missing federal agent. I want my people back safe. I want to avert a potential act of domestic terrorism. I want the truth. I don’t have time to play legal games.”

  He slid a piece of paper in front of Bonner and her attorney. “This gives limited immunity if you talk to me now. I’ll give you five minutes to read it and confer with your client. If you don’t sign it, we’ll be placing Ms. Bonner under arrest. If you do sign it, she’ll sleep in her own bed tonight.”

  “My client wants full immunity—”

  “I’m not prepared to grant her full immunity.” Rick stood up. “Five minutes.”

  He left. Suzanne followed. He said to her, “I need you to lead the team at the FBI evidence locker in Brooklyn. That’s where the Avery and Block documents are stored. Figure out what they want and call me.”

  She stared at him as if he’d asked her to fly to the moon. “I—sir—I don’t know where to start.”

  “My head analyst, Dorothy Conner, will meet you there. She’s not an agent; she doesn’t have a gun; you will protect her with your life.”

  “Of course.”

  “She spent hours with Lucy yesterday. I think she’ll know what they want when she sees it.”

  Suzanne left, and Rick went back into the interview room. Bonner was arguing with her lawyer.

  “Your five minutes is up.” Rick sat back down and stared at them.

  “Against my advice, my client is agreeing to the limited immunity.”

  With a shaking hand, Bonner signed the paper. Rick put it back in his file.

  “What bio-toxin did they steal and what is the potential damage?”

  Bonner said, “From what I could determine from my research partner, they took a supply of mycotoxin. It’s not a bio-weapon; we use it for cancer research.”

  She avoided looking at him and Rick knew she was holding something back.

  “It’s not dangerous unless it’s ingested or injected,” she said. “It can’t be used as a weapon of mass destruction.”

  “Unless it gets into the water supply.”

  “They don’t have enough.”

  “What exactly do they have?”

  “Half a liter. It’s highly concentrated.”

  “Tell me why Senator Paxton wanted prisoner codes and locations.”

  Her eyes widened. “What? You know? Why these games if you already knew?”

  It became clear to Rick. That must have been the information on the chip that Sean stole from Paxton. Bonner got cold feet and shut down the project. Paxton didn’t trust her, so he hired Colton to retrieve the tape and any documentation about their plan.

  Rick pieced it together. “Senator Paxton wanted you to develop the poison so he could mass-poison sex offenders. How?”

  “Don’t answer that,” her attorney said.

  Bonner’s bottom lip quivered.

  Rick slapped his palms on the metal table. “How!”

  “Through vaccines. We have the contract to provide tuberculosis vaccines for the federal prison system. Jonathan had obtained a list of sex offenders, and we were working on a fail-safe vaccine that would kill them and make it look like food poisoning. But I told him they would trace it to us, and he said he’d protect the company, but I don’t think he cared anymore.”

  “He doesn’t,” Rick said. “He has
tunnel vision. So you threatened him with the tape.”

  “He was so good to me, Mr. Stockton. My husband—I would have been dead if it weren’t for Jonathan. He’s my godfather. When Monique disappeared, he became like my second father. But when he found out what happened to her, he changed. He’s not bad; he’s grieving. What’s going to happen to him?”

  “Ms. Bonner, focus on this toxin. How can they use it to hurt the greatest number of people?”

  She frowned as she thought. “A small water supply, like a water tank. Injections. Up to two thousand people. But if they tried for a bigger target, they would dilute it to the point where people might get sick, but no one would die.”

  Rick was marginally relieved, though he suspected that LeGrand had a specific target in mind and knew exactly how much mycotoxin he needed.

  “What are the symptoms?”

  “Similar to mushroom poisoning, though we genetically altered the toxin to be more resistant to environmental factors for transport. Victims would succumb to stomach cramps, vomiting, muscle atrophy, organ failure, and death.”

  “Do you have an antidote?”

  “Yes, there’s a binding agent that can be administered, if the victims are diagnosed in time.”

  “I’m going to send two agents with you to your lab. I want you to give them all the antidote you have and instructions on how to use it. I want your head researcher at my disposal. You are not to leave the country. You are not to leave New York City, except to go to your lab. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “My agents will collect what they need, then take you home.”

  * * *

  Noah had to admit, Jack Kincaid was intensely focused and disciplined. The problems arose because Jack was used to giving, not taking, orders. Three times Noah had to assert his authority with SWAT because Jack responded first.

  “Jack, I’m SWAT-trained and was a Raven in the Air Force. Maybe not as cutthroat as Delta, but I do know what I’m doing. I’m also the lead agent, and I said you could come if you accepted that I give the orders.”

  Jack looked at Noah as if he wanted to say he would do whatever he damn well pleased, but he gave Noah a nod. “Understood.”

  Noah cut Jack some slack because of the situation. They were on a SWAT chopper heading north of White Plains where a horse ranch abutted against a small airport. Another SWAT unit was on the ground, but the chopper was making better time. Noah deferred to the SWAT leader, Dave Blake, to plan the drill, though he made sure both he and Jack were placed in key positions.

  “The bio-toxin they have is liquid—it must be ingested or injected, but we recommend not coming into contact with it. It is not airborne,” Noah said, “but we don’t know what they may have done to alter it, so use extreme caution.”

  Noah passed out pictures of the hostages. “They’ve already killed two of their own, a civilian and a federal agent; consider them armed and extremely dangerous.”

  The team had line of sight of the house. The copilot said to the SWAT leader, “Captain, we have a fire at the target.”

  They’d planned to land a half mile from the house and go in on foot, but then Blake changed the plan and said, “Land in that corral one hundred yards from the fire.”

  “Visual?”

  “No one in sight,” the copilot said. “The fire is messing with our heat sensors.”

  “Vehicles?”

  “One truck north of the house, stationary.”

  The SWAT team was made up of six men, plus the pilot, copilot, Noah, and Jack. The pilot stayed with the plane. Noah went with Delta, and Jack went with Alpha.

  Blake said, “Alpha, with me to secure the house; Delta, with Agent Armstrong, verify there are no hostages in the barn. We go live in five. Four. Three. Two.” The helicopter landed. “Go go go!”

  The eight men fanned out from the chopper. Noah led Delta to the barn. When they were in the sky, the fire appeared small; now it raged, the heat pushing them back.

  Noah got as close as he could and heard a shout from inside.

  “There’s someone inside!” he called out to the team. “Cover me!”

  The fire could easily be a trap, and two men scanned the area to cover Noah in case he drew fire. His partner, Lance, helped Noah push open the double doors. The fire nipped at them as smoke billowed from the structure.

  A man was coughing. Noah could see little through the smoke, but one man was down on the ground. The haystack behind him was smoking. Noah grabbed the man under the arms to drag him out. He was handcuffed to steel rings on the floor.

  Noah motioned to Lance to take one cuff and Noah focused on the other. The burning hay filled the barn with thick smoke. He could barely see the hole in the handcuffs. He removed a lock pick and managed to pop the lock quicker than he’d thought. Good thing because the dry structure was beginning to fall around them.

  “Got it,” Lance said a half-minute later.

  Noah and Lance half-carried, half-dragged the coughing victim from the barn as the roof collapsed.

  They stumbled over to the fence, out of the direction of the smoke. Noah said in his com, “We need an ambulance!”

  Noah had never met Duke Rogan, but the man who lay on the ground in front of him was an older version of Sean. “Duke Rogan?” Noah said.

  “Yes.” His voice was hoarse from smoke inhalation.

  “Don’t talk.”

  Jack Kincaid ran over. “Duke, it’s Jack.”

  “Jack.” Duke coughed, smoke coming from his lungs. Noah sent two men back to the helicopter for the emergency medical kit, which included a small oxygen tank.

  “Where’s Lucy?” Jack demanded.

  “Back off,” Noah said.

  Jack didn’t budge.

  “Lucy?” Duke shook his head. “I didn’t see her.”

  “Sean?”

  “He left. Early. Couple hours later the barn began to burn. I didn’t see anyone.” He paused to catch his breath. “A truck came; then two trucks left. I didn’t see them.”

  “Give him a minute,” Noah said.

  “We don’t have time!” Jack exploded. He took several steps away and stared at the house.

  The medical kit arrived, and Noah let the team medic minister to Duke. He walked over to Jack. “Kincaid, we will find them. Give Duke a minute. He nearly got roasted alive.”

  Jack turned to Noah. Though his face was hard, his eyes were full of emotion. Lucy had the same dark eyes. Jack didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Noah felt the same pain and determination.

  Duke batted away the oxygen mask a minute later. Noah turned to him and said, “I’m Agent Noah Armstrong. Tell me what you know.”

  “Do you know about the dead FBI agent in Sean’s apartment?”

  “Yes. We know you were abducted from there. Kurt LeGrand is behind this—do you know who he is?”

  Duke shook his head and took the water that was offered.

  “LeGrand’s men kidnapped Lucy from Sean’s house in D.C. We tracked them here.”

  “Lucy? What has Sean got her into?”

  “Sean?”

  “Sean was helping them because they had me. Now they have her? I overheard—they’re breaking into the FBI evidence archive in Brooklyn. RCK installed a new security system last year; Sean can hack it, given enough time.”

  “We have a team at the evidence locker trying to figure out what they want. Do you have an idea?”

  “Ten million dollars, at least.”

  “We don’t keep cash in the facility.”

  “Codes, bank numbers, maybe hidden in something innocuous.” Duke took a few big breaths. “Find my brother. He’s reckless, and I worry.”

  “Reckless?” Noah said. “Actually, that’s the one word I probably wouldn’t use to describe him.”

  Jack said, “You didn’t see Lucy?”

  “I didn’t even know they went after her.” Duke asked, “Is it true Sean was undercover for the FBI?”

  “Yes. He got
us everything we wanted,” Noah said. “More than I expected. We didn’t know that Skye Jansen was working with LeGrand to kidnap Sean and force him to break into the evidence locker. She set him up.”

  “My brother—he has a bad habit of doing the wrong thing. Jack—I’m sorry Sean got Lucy into this mess.”

  Noah stared at Duke. He was about to say something when Jack knelt next to Duke and said, “I’ll forget you said that. Sean’s the best thing that’s ever happened to my sister, and I’m going to find them.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Sean couldn’t think about his brother. He willed himself to believe Duke was alive, because if he lost him, especially with how they left things, Sean didn’t know how he could forgive himself.

  Duke was resourceful. He was smart. He’d have been working on getting out of the handcuffs.

  Sean had to focus on Lucy.

  They were tied in the back of a pickup truck. They’d bounced over country roads for fifteen minutes before they turned onto a smooth highway. Little light came through. The hard plastic cover that topped the truck bed made it impossible to sit up.

  At first Sean thought Lucy was dead. She wasn’t moving and was tied to the side of the truck with nylon rope. Duct tape covered her mouth. She was barefoot and wore only sweats and a tank top. Sean’s hands were tied behind him, but as soon as they locked him in he rolled over to her.

  “Lucy.” He put his ear to her chest. She was breathing. Thank God. Why was he thanking God? Lucy was the churchgoer, not him. What God would let this happen to her? “Hasn’t she been through enough?” he whispered.

  He needed her to wake up. Whoever tied his hands did a far worse job than they’d done with Lucy. Sean was out of the rope in only a couple minutes. He removed the duct tape from her mouth and Lucy startled awake. She fought her restraints and cried out.