Target For Ransom

by Laura Scott

The vehicle up ahead went through the gate. Sun drove forward, lowering her window. “We’re here on direct orders from Clarence Yates, Deputy Director of the FBI.”

  The airman on duty frowned. “I don’t know anything about that, ma’am.”

  “Sir? Will you please speak to Airman Troye?” Jordan asked. When Yates agreed, he held out the phone. “Deputy Director Yates is on the line. This is a matter of national security.”

  The airman hesitated, then reluctantly took the phone. “Sir?” He listened for a long moment, his initial dubious expression turning to respect. “Yes, sir.” He handed the phone back to Jordan. “You’ll need to keep your weapons locked in the car and pick up visitor passes inside.”

  “Thank you.” Sun drove through the gate and found a place to park. As they climbed out of the car, the plane overhead grew larger and louder as it approached. Jordan felt his gut clench.

  There was no doubt in his mind. Mustaf was on board the plane and would be landing on US soil very soon.

  There wasn’t much time, they’d need to hurry.

  And they needed a plan to intercept Mustaf before he could be whisked away and taken to the closest detention center.

  But how?

  * * *

  September 10 – 8:20 a.m. – Baltimore, MD

  Elam made his way through the streets of Baltimore to the location known as Bell. Liberty was the main location, but Liberty Bell was the second most important location, at least for him.

  After hours of searching, he felt certain Meira was there.

  He remained hidden behind a trash bin, watching from afar as a man lounged outside the door to the building. He didn’t look particularly terrifying, but Elam knew every one of the men involved in this plan was lethal.

  And their ultimate goal was just as horrific.

  He ignored their plan with an effort, focusing on what he needed to do. Now that he’d arrived, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Especially in broad daylight. The sense of urgency that had brought him here was fading away.

  No. He couldn’t fail to free Meira. Their lives and that of their unborn child depended on getting away.

  Ignoring the stench of garbage, he began to formulate a plan. A diversion might be necessary, and for that he’d need time to prepare.

  Elam inched backward until he was able to leave his hiding spot without being seen. The diversion would only work for a brief period of time, the Master would suspect something right away.

  He’d have just a few brief moments.

  He’d have to make every one of them count.

  * * *

  September 10 – 8:32 a.m. – Andrews Air Force Base, DC

  Diana clipped her visitor pass to the collar of her disheveled blouse, wondering why on earth these military people were going along with this so easily.

  Yates had power, clearly, but surely their trio looked more than a little suspicious. Her clothing had been slept in, and there was blood staining Jordan’s shirt, a white dressing partially visible beneath the edge of his T-shirt sleeve. Sun looked the best of all of them, making Diana feel even more cranky that she looked serene and beautiful without an effort.

  And what good was a visitor pass anyway? It wasn’t like they were going to be allowed anywhere near Mustaf. Especially not with an airman standing right at their side.

  This was nothing more than a waste of time. They should be searching for Bryn. Their sweet, innocent, eleven-year-old daughter was all that mattered.

  “Now what?” Sun asked in a low voice as they were led down the hallway to the observation area. There was a wall of glass ahead through which a variety of planes and helicopters could be watched coming and going.

  “Let’s get as close as possible,” Jordan said, heading toward the wall of glass.

  Diana swallowed her protest, joining Jordan and Sun in the observation area. There were double doors that led out to the landing pad, but they were monitored by two uniformed airmen.

  “This is stupid,” Diana hissed in a low voice. “We’re not going to get close to him.”

  “Maybe not.” Jordan didn’t look at her, his attention focused on the plane approaching the runway.

  The plane grew larger, the engines loud enough to be heard inside the building. The plane didn’t look like a normal passenger plane, but she supposed the air force wouldn’t transport people in a 747.

  The wheels of the plane touched the ground with a bump, then gradually decreased its speed. At least a dozen or more airmen dressed in camo from head to toe emerged from a hangar to meet the plane.

  Diana wanted to scream in frustration. There was no way in the world they’d have a chance to free Mustaf. None.

  This was nothing more than a wild-goose chase intended to keep them from finding Bryn.

  A ploy both Jordan and Sun had fallen for, big time.

  * * *

  September 10 – 8:42 a.m. – Baltimore, MD

  Bryn leaned on the wall next to the doorway, already feeling exhausted, exactly the way she had the time she’d gone to Sophie’s sleepover party and they’d stayed up all night giggling and laughing.

  Her head ached, her stomach felt a little sick, and she feared she wouldn’t have the strength to lift the stinky bucket of waste long enough to throw it at the icky man’s head the way they’d planned.

  She looked at Meira who stood on the opposite side of the doorway with seemingly infinite patience. Meira had the plastic spoon sharpened into a knife in her hand, while Bryn’s was still in her pocket. They weren’t sure when the icky man would come in, but normally he showed up by now.

  Earlier, they’d decided the cameras were either not on or not being watched as they moved freely around the interior of the building testing their limits without anyone coming in to yell at them. She really, really hoped that meant they actually had a chance to make this work.

  The idea of never seeing her mom again made her want to cry. She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. This had to work.

  It just had to.

  A deep voice from the other side of the door made Bryn tense. Was this it? Was the icky man going to come through the doorway?

  She looked at Meira. The woman gently shook her head. Bryn frowned, not understanding, until she heard nothing but silence.

  Whoever was out there had moved away from the door, leaving them alone, again.

  Now what? She looked at Meira for direction, but the woman had turned away.

  Bryn swallowed a sob. What if they’d done all of this for nothing?

  What if they didn’t get a chance to escape their prison?

  * * *

  September 10 – 8:46 a.m. – Andrews Air Force Base, DC

  Mustaf remained lying on his side on the floor of the plane with his wrists bound behind his back. It had been the most horrific flight, far too much turbulence, as if the pilot had wanted him to throw up on purpose. Then, finally, the plane had landed on US soil and had slowed down, indicating his ordeal would soon be over.

  Mustaf clenched and unclenched his fingers, trying to increase the circulation in limbs that had gone numb.

  The man who’d whispered to him hours ago hadn’t approached again. Mustaf had been kept blindfolded as well, so he had no idea who was on his side.

  He wished the man would say something or do something that would help him understand what he should expect. Logically, he knew there had to be a plan to capture him right out from beneath the noses of the Americans, but how?

  “Get up,” a harsh voice commanded. Someone reached down and roughly jerked his arm. Pain shot through him, but he refused to cry out in pain. In his mind, he tightened his fingers around the man’s throat until he couldn’t breathe.

  Until he died by his hands.

  But that wasn’t meant to be. Not yet.

  Mustaf did his best to get his feet underneath him as two men hauled him upright by his arms.

  The plane was still rolling, but his two guards stood on either side of Mustaf, waiting for it to stop. He foun
d himself holding his breath.

  This was it.

  Freedom was close enough to taste.

  His people would come through for him.

  * * *

  September 10 – 8:47 a.m. – Andrews Air Force Base, DC

  The plane taxied forward, turning so that the side door to the cargo space was facing the dozen or so airmen waiting to escort Mustaf to a prisoner transport van.

  So close, yet so far, Jordan thought sourly.

  Still, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the scene unfolding before him.

  The plane stopped. The dozen men in camo didn’t move. The cargo door slowly opened, revealing the interior.

  A short thin man stood facing the open cargo door with his arms behind his back, a blindfold covering his eyes, his gray streaked hair disheveled, his skin wan. Two men wearing camo stood on either side of him.

  Mustaf.

  A thrill of anticipation threaded through his veins. The man who was responsible for so many deaths across the globe was just twenty feet from him.

  On the other side of the glass, of course.

  The two men on either side of Mustaf urged him forward. He took one step, then another, leaning heavily on his muscular escorts.

  A gunshot rang out, and Mustaf buckled. He would have fallen to his knees if the two airmen weren’t holding him upright.

  “He’s been hit!” The shout was loud enough for them to hear.

  What in the world? Jordan reached out to put his palm on the glass. No, it couldn’t be. Mustaf couldn’t have been shot the moment he was being taken off the plane.

  Instant chaos reigned as several men spread out in an effort to identify the shooter while others went up to surround Mustaf. The transport van was moved out of the way to make room for emergency personnel.

  Jordan took a step back from the glass, glancing at Diana and Sun and the airman assigned to them. “We need to leave. We have to notify the deputy director about this.”

  “Finally,” Diana muttered. “I knew this was nothing more than a waste of time.”

  “This way,” the airman assigned to them said.

  “Are you sure?” Sun whispered. “This may be a part of the plan.”

  Jordan nodded slowly. Sun was right about that. This was indeed part of the plan. But not the time for him to try to get Mustaf. Quite the opposite.

  “Where’s the closest hospital?” Jordan asked the airman.

  “There’s a medical center here on base,” the airman replied.

  “They’ll only stabilize him there until they can transport him to the closest trauma center.” Jordan searched his memory. “I think there’s one in Marlow Heights.”

  “If they’re transporting him by chopper, they’ll likely take him to Washington Hospital.” Diana glanced between him and Sun. “Don’t you think?”

  “She’s right.” Sun nodded. “If he’s a high-ranking terrorist here to be interrogated and to stand trial, they’ll for sure want him at Washington.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Jordan glanced around, before following the airman outside.

  “Do you think this shooting was part of the plan all along?” Sun asked in a whisper.

  “Highly likely,” Jordan confirmed.

  “But . . . what if they killed him?” Diana protested.

  “I think he was shot in the lower abdomen.” Jordan hadn’t exactly seen the entry wound, most of the blood had come out from the exit wound. “If they’d wanted to kill him, they’d have aimed for his chest or his head.”

  The airman stood by as they entered their vehicle and headed for the gate. They were stopped as they attempted to leave. “What was your business here?” the airman demanded.

  Jordan thought fast. “We were sent by the deputy director of the FBI to witness the transport of Ahmed Mustaf from the plane to the transport vehicle. Instead, we ended up witnessing an attempt to assassinate him.”

  The airman scowled. “How do I know you weren’t responsible?”

  “Because you forced us to lock up our weapons prior to being allowed inside, and one of your airmen was with us the entire time.” Jordan leveled him a stare. “Meanwhile, every airman on base has their weapon, correct?”

  The airman didn’t respond. He irritably waved them through.

  Jordan slid behind the wheel and quickly drove out of the air force base.

  Mustaf had been shot, and he knew they’d be hearing from Bryn’s kidnappers any moment.

  Chapter Thirteen

  September 10 – 9:19 a.m. – Washington, DC

  “Cunningham, North, or Slater, do you have anything to add?”

  He glanced at his colleagues, trying not to show his irritation. After listening to Yates drone on for the past fifty minutes, he was more than ready for this urgent meeting to be over.

  “No, sir.”

  His boss’s cell phone rang interrupting him. He straightened in his seat when Yates frowned and picked up the call. “What?”

  The abrupt silence amongst the task force members was surreal as they all sensed this wasn’t good news. His boss’s face turned red, his eyes narrowing into slits.

  “Keep me posted.” The call was disconnected, and his boss’s gaze landed directly on him. It took every ounce of willpower to keep his expression neutral.

  “What happened?” He furrowed his brow with concern.

  The way Yates’s gaze bored into his was creepy. He’d done nothing to raise his boss’s suspicions. Nothing. A minute later, Yates glanced around at the others in the room.

  “Within minutes of Ahmed Mustaf landing at Andrews Air Force Base, he was shot by a sniper.”

  “How could that happen?” asked one of the task force members. “Who knew he was landing there? We kept that secret, knowing most would assume he’d be taken directly to Guantanamo Bay.”

  “Good question.” Again, his boss’s gaze landed on him, before moving on to the others seated around the table. “I’d like to know that myself.”

  “Do they have the shooter?” He showed nothing of his internal satisfaction.

  “They don’t have the shooter, yet.” His boss let out a heavy sigh. “We need to keep this out of the media at all costs.”

  “Is Mustaf alive?” another member of the task force asked.

  “So far, but he’s being treated as we speak.”

  “Where?” He tried not to show an inordinate interest in Mustaf’s location. “I would think he’d need to get to the closest trauma center.”

  Yates declined to answer, instead rising to his feet and sweeping his gaze once more around the room. “Stay in touch, we may need another meeting later today.”

  He was about to ask something more, but it was too late. His boss left the room, leaving the task force sitting there in stunned silence.

  Yet he didn’t allow his internal elation to show and didn’t immediately leave the room either. He stayed and spoke with the others to blend in with the group.

  Still, he loved it when a complicated plan came together.

  * * *

  September 10 – 9:32 a.m. – Washington, DC

  Diana turned to look at Jordan. “Who shot Mustaf? And why?”

  Jordan glanced at her, then turned his attention to the road. They were heading into DC against her wishes. She wanted to hunker down somewhere to continue searching for Bryn.

  “I have no idea who took the shot, but I suspect the reason was to get him into a hospital.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “You mean the shooter wasn’t trying to kill him? That the goal was just to injure him enough to get him out of the air force base?”

  “Makes sense,” Sun said from the back seat. “Helping him escape from a hospital should be easier than getting him out of a military base or a federal prison.”

  Diana stared at Sun in shock. “But . . . I don’t understand. They shot him to help him escape? And if that’s the case, why have they kidnapped Bryn to force Jordan to free him? They seem to have a plan in place already.”

&nbs
p; “Yes, that’s been bothering me too,” Jordan admitted. Traffic grew heavier the closer they came to the city, which only fueled her frustration. “It seems as if there are two prongs to this plan, and it’s not clear who is in charge of either of them.”

  Okay, that was not at all reassuring. She squeezed her eyes shut to prevent herself from bursting into tears. “Turn around,” she begged. “Let’s go back to working on finding Bryn. The rest of this doesn’t matter.”

  There was a long silence before Jordan spoke. “Diana, we will continue to look for Bryn. But we can’t simply ignore a terrorist threat. Rescuing Bryn won’t stop them, and we could all end up dead regardless. We need to work on both aspects of this case at the same time.”

  No. No! She wanted to rant and rave and scream at Jordan. Bryn was all that mattered. As soon as they had their daughter, they could get out of the area, away from any potential threat.

  She had to swallow her protest though, knowing it would sound selfish. Jordan was right. They couldn’t ignore the threat to their country.

  But she didn’t have to like it.

  Drawing a ragged breath, she forced herself to calm down. There was only one thing she could do. Lift her heart and pray.

  Please, Lord, keep Bryn safe in Your care!

  * * *

  September 10 – 9:41 a.m. – Baltimore, MD

  Holding his breath, Elam carefully packed the bag with what he needed in order to help free Meira. When he finished, he gently eased the straps over his shoulders so the bag hung in the center of his back.

  Transport would be the biggest risk to him, but it was one he’d gladly take. He’d rather die than to have Meira and his unborn child suffer.

  If this was God’s plan, then so be it. He would do whatever was necessary, whatever God called him to do.

  But he didn’t want to die yet, not until he’d freed Meira from the men who held her against her will.

  After pulling the last of his cash from its hiding place, he made his way across the room and out the door. Avoiding the subway was critical now, he didn’t dare allow anyone to jostle him or the backpack.