by Steve Hadden
CHAPTER 69
Reed wondered if he could save her. Kayla Covington was his responsibility. He leaned on his open car door and eyed the road leading to the roundabout as he drummed his hand on the roof, his adrenaline spiking. His body revved with its brakes on and he ignored the frigid breeze biting his hands and face. Concealed at the entrance to the Snoqualmie Water Department yard, he looked back at the Hostage Rescue Team’s senior team leader and his unit gathered behind him. Snipers and assaulters equipped with night vision waited in their vehicles for his word. Reed had focused on every detail of their plan. It was the only thing he could control. A dozen other agents and members of the Washington State Patrol and the King County Sheriff’s Department stood ready to back up the HRT. He watched the road and waited for Emily Covington and Fuller to get clear. Then they’d go in.
Beyond the roundabout somewhere in the frigid darkness the murderers were there, and they would have Kayla in their tentacles. He’d made the call to allow her to risk her life for her daughter’s and sold it to the director and the attorney general. Fuller had been right. He would have done the same thing for his son, and there was no other option to get Emily back and secure RGR and the data. He touched the gun on his hip. Artemis and her team had killed fourteen innocent people and they deserved justice. And while he was here because of his commitment to protecting people and the Constitution of the United States, no one deserved it more than Ashley Reynolds and her parents.
He’d let the situation dictate any adjustments to the plan. HRT was the best in the world at adjusting, but in his gut, he knew his adversary was just as good. North of the entrance to the falls, another team with snipers and observers was out of sight and ready. They had them pinned in. There was only one weak point. Because they couldn’t risk detection, covering the riverbed wasn’t an option. But the drop was two hundred feet straight down so the river would act as a boundary. Still, he would have liked to have gotten a team on the railroad tracks on the other side of the falls.
He pulled out his phone and checked it for what felt like the tenth time in the last five minutes. It was 12:17 a.m. Emily and Fuller should have been out by now. To make things worse, Connelly hadn’t checked in yet. The threat to the two hundred people on Seybold Island was imminent, and Reed wished he could be in two places at once.
As he slid the phone into his pocket, it vibrated. He pulled it back out and saw the text. I have her in the car. Headed to you.
He made tight circles with his hand above his head. “Go. Go!”
The HRT senior team leader jumped on the running board of the first vehicle and the unit raced past. Reed ducked into his car and followed. He saw Fuller and Emily race by in the opposite direction, headed to the other agents in the lot as they’d planned. In less than fifteen seconds, Reed and the HRT were in the drive of the Salish Lodge and exiting their vehicles.
The lodge sat adjacent to the falls. Its driveway connected to a set of stairs up to the walkway at the exit to the pedestrian bridge that spanned the highway. On the other side of the bridge was another parking area and another set of stairs. Reed saw the two teams split up and maneuver up both stairways to cut off any exit from the walkway that led to the observation deck. To his right, a third team was already silently charging across the bridge from the parking lot on the opposite side of the highway. They formed up with the other two teams at the bridge’s exit to the observation deck, ensuring no one could escape. The speed and precision of HRT’s movements buoyed his confidence and tested his ability to keep up.
The HRT leader directed team one toward the falls, then signaled them to stop. He directed teams two and three down the trails to the right and they dropped their night-vision goggles over their eyes and disappeared into the wooded darkness. Reed slipped on the layer of icy snow on the walk and heard the falls churning on his left. He regained his balance and trotted down the path with the HRT. He stopped and squatted with the HRT leader at the start of the lighted walkway. In the distance, he could see the dark observation deck. They’d be sitting ducks if they proceeded down the brightly lit concrete.
Twenty seconds later, Reed watched an HRT operator emerge from the darkness of the observation deck. The team leader and team one rushed down the walkway to the deck. Reed followed, gun drawn, and skated to a stop behind them on the ice-covered walk. The HRT had the deck illuminated in seconds. There were footprints covering the deck but no sign of anyone. The senior team leader walked up to Reed as he received reports over his comms.
“We’re clear here and down at the lower observation deck. We have tracks up here, nothing below.”
“Over here, sir,” one of the operators called out. He was dangling his Maglite over the frosted railing on the backside of the observation deck.
Reed and the HRT leader moved to the railing and looked over. Two sets of boot prints were side by side about fifteen feet apart. It looked like something had been dragged beside one set of prints. Shock rumbled through Reed’s body when he realized the footprints headed over the cliff. The team leader ordered two operators to belay off the railing and shine their lights down to the river. They did and reported nothing below.
Reed looked over the railing into the churning river directly below, then back upriver to the violent impact of the massive curtains of water at the base of the falls. It didn’t make sense. Why go over the edge? Maybe Kayla had taken Artemis out. Maybe the footprints were a decoy. That made the most sense.
“Search the area, please, and keep me informed. I’ll get ERT up here.”
“Copy that,” the HRT leader said and got to work.
Reed texted the team leader for the ERT and told her it was all clear. He leaned against the rail and let the frozen mist from the falls soak him, washing away the bitter failure saturating his body. Kayla Covington was gone. As was his chance to catch Artemis and recover RGR. But people don’t just disappear into thin air.
“Special Agent Reed?”
Harrison Clarke and Sienna Fuller stood between two agents.
“They insisted, sir,” one of the agents said.
Reed knew what they wanted to hear. And he knew that what he was about to say wasn’t it.
“She’s not here.”
CHAPTER 70
Reed eyed the roaring falls. It reminded him of the crushing, never-relenting force that pinned his soul to the bottom of a dark lonely abyss. The guilt of Afghanistan had returned. It was caused by the rupture in his confidence that he’d get Kayla Covington back. The pair of tracks leading over the cliff exacerbated that rupture.
It just didn’t make sense. Possibilities ricocheted in his mind. He quickly sorted through them, searching for an answer. But none came. Harrison Clarke and Sienna Fuller held their ground right next to him while he directed HRT and the two FBI helicopter pilots to execute their sector-by-sector searches. Finally, he dropped his radio to his side. “Let’s get inside,” he said to Clarke and Fuller. He started for the drier confines of the lodge.
Clarke caught up to him quickly. “Where is she?”
“We don’t know.”
“What the hell is the FBI doing?”
Reed kept walking. “Everything. We’ve got two helicopters and a full HRT combing the area. We have checkpoints surrounding this place. NSA is involved and monitoring all communication. We’ll find them.”
“But you’re running out of time,” Clarke said.
Reed stopped at the edge of the walkway leading to the lodge and faced Clarke. Fuller caught up behind Clarke. Reed heard panic or maybe desperation in Clarke’s shaky tone—a tone that he hadn’t heard before and wouldn’t have expected from a Marine combat veteran. “What do you mean?”
“I know why—”
Reed’s phone rang. It was Connelly. “Go.”
“We found it. A canister taped inside a return air vent at the end of the disembarkation hallway in the ferry terminal. SAC Owens had his WMD coordinator here and they consulted with the Hazmat Response Team. It’s bee
n secured. The island is safe.”
“Thank God.” Reed sighed and Clarke and Fuller stepped forward, anticipating news on Covington. He eyed them and shook his head no. At least he now had only three things to focus on: recovery of RGR, the data drives and Dr. Covington.
“I’ll talk to you when you get back.” Reed ended the call, slipped the phone back into his coat and said to Clarke, “They got the canister on Seybold Island. Now, what aren’t you telling me?”
“I think I know why they wanted Kayla alive.”
“Yes. So they could get as much information on the technology as possible.”
Clarke shook his head. “That’s what I thought at first. But if they have the data, the science isn’t that hard. That’s the beauty and the danger of CRISPR. It’s simplicity.” Clarke’s face turned dour. “But what’s more valuable is inside her.”
“Her knowledge?”
“No. That’s the thing. For the last four days she’s conducted the first human trial for in vivo gene editing using RGR. She is the first trial.” Clarke’s focus narrowed on Reed. “They want to fully examine her. They need tissue from her organs and blood specimens while she’s alive. That information will provide insight into the efficacy and safety of the treatment. They’ll kill her and—”
The revelation barged into Reed’s mind. “And take the tissue and blood samples. Much easier to transport.”
Reed thought he knew the risk he’d taken. Allowing Covington to trade herself for her daughter was something he understood. He’d do the same thing for Jackson. But he hadn’t thought about this threat. If Clarke was right, that meant they were running out of time faster than he’d thought. They could harvest the samples and kill her immediately. With no sign of Artemis or Covington, Covington would have to find a way to signal him—a long shot at best.
Reed’s phone rang again. He pulled it out. It was Director Welch. He answered the call. “Reed here.”
“You missed them?”
Reed didn’t want to let the words pass his lips. “We did. But they haven’t gone far. We’ll find them.”
“You can’t let RGR get out of the country. That’s just not an option.” Welch didn’t have to say it. The ramping volume of his voice said it for him. Or you’re gone.
“Seybold is safe. They have the canister.”
“I heard. But that won’t save us.”
“I’ll get it.” Reed’s phone vibrated against his cheek. “Bill, I’ve got a report coming in. Can I call you back?”
“Yes.”
Reed switched over.
The voice on the other end was one of the team leaders who’d taken part of the HRT downriver. “We found two hang gliders. One is torn up pretty bad. We’re a mile downriver at the Plum Boat Launch. Tire tracks look like two SUVs may have picked them up.”
“Okay. I assume you notified JOC?”
“Copy that.”
“Thanks.”
Reed eyed Clarke and Fuller. “Hang gliders. Found them downriver. We’ll find her.”
CHAPTER 71
Artemis hadn’t expected this. She’d overestimated the lift-versus-weight ratio when the breeze supporting her glider had died. She’d hit hard on the riverbank and her knee had given way. The force that resulted from the unexpected acceleration and the extra weight of Covington’s limp body was too great.
The pain wasn’t the problem. It was the functionality. She looked through the glass wall of the stripped-down office at the two remaining operators who were scouring the complex and removing any trace of evidence that they’d ever existed. Her MP5 sat atop the naked steel desk as she made the last few passes with the elastic wrap. The swelling would be controlled for now, but flex and load would be the problem. The pain reminded her of her failure nearly eleven years ago, two weeks short of completing BUD/S. Just like now, it hadn’t been the pain that tormented her. It was the disappointment. It was the faces of the men who watched her carried away, beaming with satisfaction that no woman could withstand the training; they just weren’t as strong. Her failure had validated their small-minded prejudice. Today, it was the expression on the face of the one man she trusted and maybe even loved, if she was capable of that. Forrest’s worried eyes watched her from the doorway.
Now like then, she fed the pain into her anger that burned like a furnace, destroying any other sensation except one: righteous malice for every one of the men who had abused, neglected and doubted her along the way. Soon she’d prove them all wrong. She’d have one hundred million dollars and they’d still be assholes.
“That looks bad,” Forrest said.
Artemis stood and swallowed the piercing pain. “I’m good to go.”
“We’re down to four of us. If something goes sideways—”
Forrest didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. They both knew she wasn’t one hundred percent. And based on the fact that the knee felt exactly as it had in Coronado, she doubted it was even fifty percent. But she had another knee, and a strong body and mind. It didn’t affect her marksmanship either.
“We’re a go. We have no other option.”
For a moment, she thought Forrest was going to argue. If they had the other buyer, he would have. He’d kill Covington and give the data and RGR to the lower bid. But she’d taken that option off the table with a bullet to Wagner’s head.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “In a few hours, you and I will be on our way to that beach.” The payoff would buy that beach and enough anonymity and security to live their lives in peace. She moved to the door and checked her watch. It was 3:55 a.m. “Give her another injection just before they get here. We don’t want her waking up.”
“Got it. The drives are loaded into the aluminum cases. We’ll keep the RGR in the fridge until we’re ready to load. The portable vaccine refrigerators have a twenty-four-hour life, so we don’t want to load them too early.”
As they moved down the hallway toward the warehouse, Artemis inspected each office along the way. Each one was spotless. They entered the warehouse and Artemis stopped and hid her wince. “I’ll notify the buyer now,” she said. “They’ll need enough time to get through any checkpoints.”
Forrest went to help the other two men finish before he tended to Covington. They’d stuck her in the same room they’d used for her daughter. Artemis had joked it was only appropriate to keep it in the family.
Artemis pulled out her burner and opened WhatsApp to send the message. They’d agreed on 0500. In less than two hours, that poor abused girl from Laredo with the bum knee would prove that it paid to be the best, whether you had a penis or not.
CHAPTER 72
As a behavioral scientist, Charlotte knew how to interpret what her body was telling her. The crackling energy detonating across her skin said this was the most dangerous thing she’d ever do. And she was risking more than just her life. She was risking life with Penelope and Darrin.
It was just before 4 a.m. and she sat at the kitchen table with her semiautomatic pistol and the phone Jack had provided in front of her. She’d changed into a thick black turtleneck and a pair of black stretch jeans that traded warmth for flexibility. She sipped her coffee and watched the darkened driveway through the window, waiting. She’d had more than three hours to herself to think about what was about to happen.
She’d decided that the operative Jack was sending wasn’t another sleeper. Jack’s eyes, tone and facial movements had conveyed that the person she was waiting for held authority over her. That meant a senior MSS operative. She wished she could have used SZENZOR on Jack to confirm her own read. She suspected the operative would be more than just a babysitter and muscle. There was a distinct possibility that the operative’s orders were to clean things up after the transaction. The ministry didn’t like to leave loose ends, especially when that loose end held information that would point to China as the beneficiary of a terrorist attack on US soil. It was better to eliminate all potential sources of the truth. And the most important thing she’d learned throu
gh all her intelligence training was that being the source of the truth was never a good thing. From her perspective, all intelligence killings were related to concealing it. There was little doubt in her mind that her elimination would ensure it never surfaced.
For a moment, a dark emptiness overcame her when she imagined being killed and never seeing Penelope and Darrin again. She thought about how alone and abandoned they’d feel. The black granite island glinted in the under-the-cabinet puck lights and caught her attention, reminding her of home. She remembered her joy watching their smiling faces covered with chocolate sauce when she’d make their favorite ice cream sundaes. Then she thought about Neville seated with them, laughing and telling kid jokes. He’d been a good father and what she’d imagined a good husband would be, if she’d ever allowed herself to think of him that way.
Thick leaden bile leaked into her stomach when a tinge of regret entered her mind. She had used his vulnerability against him. His belief that he could shape her moods had grown out of his codependency with his mother. All Charlotte did was bring up a subject and steer Neville’s opinion with her overamplified reactions and projections. But that manipulation had resulted in Penelope and Darrin losing a loving father, and some distant part of her felt responsible for their loss. Her true view of RGR aligned completely with Covington’s, but she conveyed the exact opposite to everyone, including Neville. The Americans just couldn’t have that kind of technological advantage over the country she loved.
Using her training, she refocused and thought only about running the gauntlet to get to them. Soon she’d be stuck between an MSS operative and one of the best assassins on the planet, and there was no room for distraction or doubt.
She heard the distant crunching of the snow-covered gravel. Through the window, she spotted the dimly lit van pull down the driveway. It rolled to a stop in front of the garage. A figure dressed in black exited and made their way toward the front door. She grabbed the gun and the phone, rose and matched their pace as she headed to the entry. The figure moved with confidence and a deliberateness she’d expected in an MSS operative. When she reached for the knob and opened the door, her nervous system jolted her and her fight-or-flight response maxed out.
