by Laura Scott
* * *
September 10 – 11:19 p.m. – Washington, DC
Jordan approached the safe house from the rear, keeping all senses on alert. He wasn’t sure how long the men in the car out front would wait but suspected it wouldn’t be long.
Holding his weapon ready, and hearing nothing from inside the place, he silently entered the townhouse. Tariq was lying on the floor where he’d fallen, the stench of death horribly familiar.
Ignoring it, he forced himself to approach the body. He checked for a pulse, thinking they could call 911 if there was a way to save him, but there was no pulse. He then checked Tariq’s pockets. He found cash, which he took, and a phone, which he also took. He hesitated, wondering if there was something he was missing. What would the trigger look like? He ran his hands over Tariq’s western clothes but didn’t find anything hidden in the seams. Tariq wasn’t wearing any jewelry either.
No trigger meant that it was still out there, somewhere.
Ready and able to be used by whomever Tariq may have put in charge.
Chapter Twenty-Two
September 11 – 12:21 a.m. – Washington, DC
Mustaf didn’t like being strapped onto the gurney in the back of the ambulance, but of course, he tolerated the bumpy ride without complaint. Waves of pain washed over him, making time irrelevant. He had no idea the day, the hour, or even where he was other than somewhere in DC. The occasional glimpse of houses and buildings visible beyond the two windows located in the back doors of the ambulance were meaningless.
He much preferred the helicopter as a way of being transported from point A to point B.
Better yet, he should never have been captured by his enemies while in Libya in the first place. He wrestled back a flash of anger.
He couldn’t think about revenge now. Not until he was safely back in his own country with his own people.
Which needed to happen, soon.
When the ride smoothed out a bit, and he thought it was likely because they’d hit the interstate, he closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain.
“Uh-oh.” The voice came from the driver.
The pretend paramedic sitting across from him leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”
Mustaf tensed and opened his eyes. Was there no part of this rescue that would go smoothly?
“Looks like there are roadblocks set up on the exit ramps.”
The man seated across from him waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter, they’re not going to stop ambulances.”
“I guess.” The guy was silent for a few miles, then swore loudly. “They are stopping ambulances! The exit I just passed had an ambulance stopped even though the red lights were flashing indicating they had a patient on board.” The driver sounded concerned. “Do you think they’re looking for us? For our patient?”
There was a long pause before the guy seated across from him replied, “I don’t see how they could know about him. The roadblock could be related to something else completely.”
“Don’t be naive,” the driver snapped. “Who else would they set up roadblocks for all along the interstate at this late hour? I’m telling you, they’re out there searching for that VIP we have back there.”
Mustaf could feel the man’s gaze boring into him. He turned to stare back. “You have been paid well for your assistance in getting me out, yes?”
The guy glanced away. “Yeah.”
“Then it is your job to get me past the roadblocks, is it not?” Mustaf continued glaring at him until the guy reluctantly nodded.
Idiots, both of them, but he didn’t have any choice but to trust they could accomplish their mission.
Being detained at a US federal prison was not an option.
* * *
September 11 – 12:28 a.m. – Washington, DC
“I think I’ve found a new place for us to stay for what’s left of the night,” Sun said. “It’s only five minutes from here.”
“I need to understand how Tariq found the previous safe house,” Jordan said.
“Me too,” Diana added. Being crammed in the back seat with Bryn beside her wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Having Bryn close was reassuring, especially since she couldn’t get the vision of Tariq holding a gun on them out of her mind.
And tiny little Sun had taken him down without a weapon. She really needed Sun to show her how to do that.
“Elam? Any ideas?” Jordan’s voice held an underlying note of steel. It took Diana a minute to realize that Jordan suspected Elam had somehow led the terrorist cell to their safe house.
Which was crazy since Elam had gone to great lengths to free his pregnant wife, Meira, and Bryn. He’d blown up a parking structure for Pete’s sake.
An action Elam hadn’t taken lightly.
“I do not know,” Elam said in a low calm tone. “However, it could be that they had someone watching Liberty Bell and, when we drove past the first time, followed us back to the safe house.”
“Despite the way we did our best not to be tailed?” Jordan challenged.
Elam shrugged. “With two vehicles, they could easily do such a thing without our noticing.”
“I didn’t see two cars back at the safe house,” Jordan said.
“Tariq may have had one nearby,” Diana felt compelled to point out. “It’s not like we took the time to search for one.”
“Elam did not call them.” Meira’s voice was soft but firm. “It’s insulting of you to think such a thing.”
Jordan met Meira’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “I almost lost Diana and Bryn. I’ll risk being insulting to get to the bottom of what happened.”
It warmed her heart to hear Jordan talk about her and Bryn as if he cherished them. “Please, Jordan, you must see Meira is right. If Elam was going to turn us in, he would have had several opportunities long before now. And he wouldn’t risk anything happening to Meira.”
“I didn’t accuse Elam of turning us in,” Jordan said curtly. “I was wondering if he had some sort of tracking device on his person that he doesn’t know about. After all, we were found at the motel too.”
The implication of a hidden tracking device made Diana shiver. That would not be good. And why would the device only be on Elam? Why not Meira or even Bryn?
As if reading her thoughts, Meira said, “I have checked my garments very closely and have found nothing that might be a tracking device.”
“For me, as well,” Elam said. “The Master always contacted me via phone. I would think any possible tracking would have been done via the device. They knew I would answer at any time, day or night, as they had Meira. I left the phone in the backpack at the store once the child had made her call.”
“Jordan? Turn right up ahead,” Sun said, interrupting them. “The motel is only a couple of blocks down from the corner.”
“I see it,” Jordan said. He made the turn, then glanced at the man seated beside him. “I’m sorry, Elam, but I had to ask.”
Elam inclined his head but didn’t say anything more.
“Elam, I want to thank you again for rescuing Bryn.” Diana felt the need to try to smooth things over. “And I thank you, Meira, for taking good care of Bryn while the two of you were being held in that horrible place.”
“I would never abandon a child.” A hint of reproach laced Meira’s tone.
“I know.” Diana thought back to the brief interaction she had with her cousin Tariq. A man who didn’t care about anyone, not even the life of a young child.
She should be upset that he was dead, but she wasn’t. Deep down, she knew Tariq was responsible for killing other people. How many, she couldn’t be sure, but in the twelve years she’d been in hiding from him? Many.
No, she would not mourn Tariq’s passing. She hadn’t wished him dead, prison would have been fine with her, but she would always do whatever was necessary to protect herself.
The most important thing was for her and Bryn to be safe.
And Jordan too.
* * *
September 11 – 12:58 a.m. – Washington, DC
The sound of a ringing phone dragged him from sleep. With a muttered curse, he answered it. “What?”
“There are roadblocks preventing the transport of our VIP off the interstate. We’re at a rest stop now because we don’t want to be caught.”
It took a moment for the news to sink into his sleep-deprived brain. “Roadblocks?”
“They are stopping all vehicles, including ambulances.”
He dragged a hand through his hair and resisted the urge to put his fist through the wall. How had this happened? Who had the power to put up that many roadblocks?
His boss, of course.
A fluttery panic hit hard, and his temper snapped. “What am I paying you for? To get our cargo safely to the Richmond airport. The rest is for you to figure out. Create a diversion of some sort or find another way through the roadblock.”
There was a pause before the guy muttered, “Yes, sir.”
He disconnected from the call and threw the phone aside, rising to his feet and stalking across the room.
Sleep would be impossible now. He couldn’t believe Yates had remained one step ahead of him.
Yates knew Mustaf had escaped and had assumed they’d use an ambulance. He mentally kicked himself for not changing the mode of operation, but it was too late now.
Those idiots were wasting time, sitting at a rest stop. He had an idea and spun around to grab the phone. He called his contact back. “Okay, here’s how you’re going to beat the roadblock.”
After explaining what he wanted done, the guy had the audacity to argue. “How are we going to manage that?”
“Find a way!” he shouted, then quickly disconnected the call.
He needed Mustaf to reach his next destination, and soon. Or he wouldn’t have the cash transferred into his offshore accounts in time for him to disappear before the big event.
Those idiots better not fail him now.
* * *
September 11 – 2:19 a.m. – Washington, DC
Jordan couldn’t sleep. Diana and Bryn were sharing one bed in the motel, leaving him the other. Elam and Meira had requested their own room.
Sun had chosen to sleep in the SUV. He suspected that she was tired of being crammed in with the rest of them.
He couldn’t blame her.
Except she had their one and only satellite computer with her, leaving him with nothing but his whirling thoughts for company. He should have grabbed the other one when he’d gone back for the trigger device.
Too late for regrets now.
Tariq’s death wasn’t at all reassuring. In fact, just the opposite. Now Jordan had no idea who held the trigger for the devices and no idea where the multitude of bombs Elam had made were located.
He also didn’t know where Mustaf was and what role his carefully orchestrated escape played in all of this.
And worst of all, he didn’t know who inside the multiagency task force was being paid off to allow this to happen.
It all made his head hurt.
Diana had pulled him aside after they’d arrived and let him know she didn’t like the way he’d gone at Elam. Easy for her to defend the guy, but he didn’t know the first thing about him.
And knowing Diana and Bryn were at Tariq’s mercy had shaken him to the core.
He turned to see Diana ease out from beside Bryn. They’d all taken to sleeping with their clothes on since it made for a quick getaway if needed.
“Is something wrong?” she whispered.
So many things, but that wasn’t what she meant. “No, I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”
She rested her head against his shoulder, and he pulled her into his arms as if they’d been together for years, instead of reunited for just two days. “I’m glad Tariq is dead.”
He’d wondered how she was dealing with seeing her cousin face-to-face after all this time. “Me too.”
“Do you think God is upset with us for feeling like this?”
“No.” His response was instinctive. “It’s not like we’re happy he’s dead so much as relieved he’s no longer a threat.”
“Yeah.” Her tone sounded uncertain. “Although, I felt a surge of satisfaction the moment Sun kicked him and he went down.”
He rested his cheek on her hair. “There is some sort of poetic justice that he was taken down by a woman as small as Sun.”
“Exactly. After listening to his wife, Fadia, I know he’s hurt so many people, more women than men.” She hesitated, then added, “You know how some people are truly evil, all the way through? That was Tariq. A trait he shared with his father, Omar.”
He didn’t doubt her. “Try not to think about it.”
Diana shifted in his arms, tilting her head back so she could see him in the dim light from the moon. “I asked him to spare Bryn because she’s innocent, and you know what he said? None are innocent, and he’d kill them all. He would have killed me, Meira, Bryn, and Sun without a second thought.”
He tightened his grip, hating that she’d had to face Tariq like that without his being there to help protect them. “I’m sorry.”
She gazed up at him for a long moment. “You know what I regretted the most in those few minutes that I thought I might die?”
He shook his head, unable to answer.
“This.” She reached up to draw him down for a kiss.
Her lush mouth tasted sweet, and he wanted nothing more than to steal this time alone with her. To kiss her and hold her the way he hadn’t for the past twelve years.
He loved her.
Had actually never stopped loving her. Despite believing she’d betrayed him. The way he’d held on to her obituary all these years confirmed that his heart had always belonged to Diana.
Not that he intended to tell Sloan that what he’d felt for Shari was less than what he had with Diana. Or maybe different was a better word.
“Mommy?”
Bryn’s voice drew them apart. He pressed another kiss on Diana’s temple before releasing her.
“I’m here, baby.” Diana quickly crossed over to the bed.
“Where’s Daddy?”
For a moment, he was so shocked to hear Bryn ask about him he couldn’t move. “Here.” His voice was low and rough, partially from kissing Diana and partially because Bryn had called him Daddy.
Daddy!
He’d never get tired of hearing that. He joined them, hovering behind Diana as she knelt beside the bed, stroking Bryn’s hair.
“I thought you left me.”
His chest tightened painfully. “Never. We’ll never leave you, Bryn.” It was a rash promise, considering so many things were beyond his control, but he made it anyway.
He wasn’t going to allow anything to happen to either of them.
“Okay, I’m glad.” Her voice sounded faint, as if she were about to fall back asleep. Then she surprised him by adding, “We’re going someplace fun when this is over, right?”
He glanced at Diana for help, and she nodded. “Yes, of course we are.” He couldn’t imagine anywhere else he’d rather be. “Where would you like to go?”
Bryn yawned and blinked groggily. “Maybe we could ride roller coasters.”
“I love roller coasters. Disney has plenty of them if you’d like to go there.”
Bryn smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Me too,” Diana added. “Try to get some sleep, okay, baby?”
“’Kay.” Their daughter’s big brown eyes drifted closed, and soon her breathing deepened.
Jordan stepped back, feeling as if he’d been handed the moon and the stars and everything in between.
Time alone with Diana and Bryn would be the best gift a man could be given. And he wanted that time more than anything.
But first he needed to put a stop to whatever evil plan had been put into motion.
* * *
September 11 – 3:25 a.m. – Washington, DC
Mustaf must have fallen asleep because he w
as rudely awoken by someone shaking his shoulder. “Get up.”
“What?” He didn’t understand. Had he missed something? Had they reached their final destination?
“Get up!” It was the man who had been sitting in the back with him. “You have to crawl under the gurney.”
“No.” He batted the guy’s hand away. Enough was enough. He was recuperating from surgery without the benefit of pain medicine and was fed up with these rude Americans.
He deserved respect. Would demand respect.
“Do you want to get out of DC or not? Get under the cot or we’ll leave you here to be recaptured.”
Once again a wave of helpless fury hit hard. But what choice did he have? It galled him to admit how much he needed them.
The ambulance was stopped. He frowned, wondering where they were. Somewhere along the highway, he assumed, since the roadblocks were covering the exit ramps.
“Where are we?”
“A rest stop, where we’ve been hiding since we learned of the roadblocks. Now get moving!”
Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he noted the back door of the ambulance was open. Outside, a man was pulling a woman toward the vehicle. It took only a moment to register she was large with child.
“Hurry,” the guy said impatiently.
Realization dawned, and he understood the plan. Didn’t particularly like it, but understood it. With a grunt, he rolled off the gurney and onto the ambulance floor. Pain sent a red haze over his eyes, and he simply lay there for a moment, unwilling to move.
“Get under the cot.”
He pried his eyes open. “There isn’t enough room.”
“Here.” The fake paramedic lifted the side rail, revealing more room underneath.
Moving awkwardly, Mustaf managed to slither beneath it. When the side rail came back down, he felt as if he were trapped in a prison cell.
“No, let me go! Stop! Please, my baby. Let me go!”
The woman’s cries were loud enough to attract attention, and the idiot who had her must have realized it too.