by Casi McLean
Wyatt cringed at her comment. “Harper planned to be abducted by Damien to get inside the mansion so we could save those kids. Are you saying she intended to be sold too?” His jaw jutted forward. He glanced toward Parker, hoping he’d shed light on Brewer’s comment.
Parker shrugged and shook his head.
“Yes sir, Assistant Director, sir.”
After several seconds of silence, Wyatt spoke. “There’s something you aren’t telling me, Brewer. Spit it out. Director Drake could be in over her head without backup.” He nudged Parker and motioned to follow him to the extraction point where they’d intended to meet the van.
“I’m sorry, sir. She told me to say nothing unless her life was in danger, sir.”
“I respect your order, Brewer, but that time is now.” Wyatt picked up his gait to a jog until he reached the clearing, then sped toward the van. Slamming open the door he frowned at Stephanie.
At his intrusion, she spun then stood at attention. “I’m sorry, Assistant Director. I wasn’t sure if––”
Using every bit of willpower to stay calm, Wyatt stepped into his role as Director and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I understand, but she could be in grave danger. What did she tell you?”
Brewer wrinkled her brow. “It’s more what she asked me to do, sir.”
Drawing in a long breath, he clamped his jaw until the muscle rippled. “Okay, then what did she ask you to do?”
“Uh…I injected a GPS microchip into her arm.”
Wyatt grimaced. He knew how Harper rolled. If she requested a homing device injection, she not only used herself as bait to lure-in Damien, she deliberately positioned herself to be sold at auction to infiltrate the trafficking ring further. But as far as Wyatt knew, the only devices on the market were radio frequency chips used to track lost pets. “Do you mean she had you inject a RFID microchip like those used to track animals?”
“Not exactly.” Stephanie paused. “NCIS has been testing injectable GPS microchips for months––with impressive results.”
He ran his forefinger and thumb over his mustache. “So, she figured a microchip would serve as her fail-safe?” He closed his eyes and murmured, more to himself than to Brewer. “What was she thinking?”
“The GPS was her backup plan.”
“Yeah, I got that.” He shook his head and turned away. “Damnit.”
Brewer gulped in a breath. “But it’s working, sir.”
His gaze met hers. “You have a signal?”
“Yes, sir.” She turned to face the monitors, slid a finger across the screen then touched a map. Spreading her thumb and forefinger apart to enlarge the location, she pointed. “See this green blip?” She tapped the display. “That’s Director Drake. The men whisked her out a back entrance and took her to a chopper, which landed at Reagan International Airport where she boarded a private plane.” Brewer zoomed-in closer. “See this line?” Again, she pointed toward the screen. “This is a small runway exclusively used for corporate flights.”
Wyatt tapped his earbud. “Rhodes, do you copy?”
“Ten-four, sir,” Kara’s replied.
“Brewer is sending you coordinates right now.” He turned toward Stephanie and lifted his brows, to which she acknowledged with a nod. “Stop the plane on that runway from taking off. Now.”
“On it, sir.” After a long moment of silence, Kara spoke. “Sorry, sir, the flight was already airborne and has gone radio silent. I requested the pilot to return to Reagan International immediately, as a matter of national security, but so far they haven’t acknowledged the communication.”
“Son-of-a-bitch. Keep trying. Do whatever you have to do to get that plane to land. And for God’s sake, don’t take your eyes off of her signal.” The muscles in his shoulders tightened and clamped the base of his head. He tapped his earbud again then stared at Brewer. “I want your attention glued on Harper. Until further notice, nothing else matters except for her location. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll track her and keep you updated.” She paused then added, “For what it’s worth, sir, the Director said she couldn’t bear how those bastards treated children like commodities, abusing them in unconscionable ways. And…if she found a way to infiltrate the ring, she would do anything to nail them.”
“That sounds like Harper, all right.” Wyatt patted her shoulder. “Sorry I snapped earlier. You didn’t deserve my anger. Harper has a way of convincing people to do things they might never do on their own.” He turned toward Parker still leaning against the door. “You up for a road trip?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then get this tub to Reagan International, pronto.” Again, he tapped on his earpiece. “Steel, have the jet fueled and ready for takeoff ASAP.”
“What flight plan, sir?” Logan asked.
“None. List the trip as NCIS Top Secret National Security. Then give the pilot Harper’s coordinates. Tell him to track her. We’re on our way.”
“On it, sir.”
A familiar cough interrupted his train of thought. “Wyatt…Ash and I secured Damien’s stable and confirm at least nine kids were held captive.” Emily’s voice trembled.
“Just give me the okay and I’ll have MPPD on this within minutes,” Ash added. “Let us help you, man. Harper means the world to us, too, and I assure you my buddies can handle taking down Damien and rescuing his victims.”
Wyatt rubbed his sweating palms on his thighs, his mind sifting through past scenarios as he wondered what Harper would do given similar circumstances. “You’re sure your MPPD contacts are clean? After Sid Mason’s involvement in Alyssa’s murder, I’m not convinced––.”
“Trust me, Wyatt. MPPD’s rank and file are solid despite the Chief Operating Officer’s involvement with Mayor Pearson and Alyssa’s murder. Besides, I’ve got a close friend in the Special Victims Unit, Zack Adams. He’s perfect for the job.”
“Do it.” With the initial orders in place, Wyatt’s thoughts whirled into cloudy chaos. In his mind, nothing took precedence over Harper. But as acting NCIS Director, he held responsibilities for the New Patriots as well as the entire NCIS department.
“Can Em and I help you with Harper?”
“I’m not sure, yet. After you two handoff Damien to your buddy, touch base with Quint and Brad. The girls we rescued from Sebastian’s hellhole need to be returned to their parents as soon as possible.” He paused a moment considering how Hanna would feel if she didn’t see for herself Sarah was okay. “On second thought, take Sarah to the compound and unite her with Hanna. We’ll get them to their folks soon enough, but those girls need a moment to connect.”
“Consider it done.” Ash mumbled something incoherent to Emily. “We’ll head to the safe house now, find out who those kids belong to, and contact their parents. You just focus on Harper.”
“Wyatt.” Emily broke in. “We’ll keep our earbuds on mute, so if you need us for anything regarding Harper, we’re there. And please, be careful.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
Brewer let out a frantic gasp. “No…no…oh, dear God…no.”
A shard of ice sliced down Wyatt’s back at the sheer panic Stephanie’s voice radiated. “Don’t tell me––”
“Oh God.” She feverously shifted screens, zooming maps and quadrants. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t take my eyes from the screen…not once. I barely blinked, but the signal simply vanished.”
“Shit.” Running his fingers through his hair, Wyatt studied the monitors. “What was the trajectory?”
Brewer stared in silence, blanking out on his command.
“Stephanie?”
She spun, her gaze shifting to Wyatt.
“Run a mock route tracking the distance and direction we know for sure then project possible destinations.”
“Already got it here, sir.” Kara’s voice blared through his earpiece. “Possible destinations under the last known trajectory: Morocco, Algeria, Libya, or Sudan…assuming they don’t adjust
their settings, sir.”
His stare bore through the monitor screen as his anger churned. An internal battle raged between how he felt uselessness over the past ten years and his dedication to his marine corps brothers––and Harper. As long as he knew she existed and could find happiness, he’d yielded to his demons. But envisioning her death, or a life thrust into torturous slavery…No. Fisting both hands, he tensed every muscle in his body, emotionally shattering through the haunting feeling of hopelessness suffocating, paralyzing him within an ever-spinning web of debilitating what-ifs?
The thought of losing Harper knotted his stomach. Tiny beads of cold sweat prickled along his hairline. He loved her with all his heart and soul. He would find her. Gritting his teeth, he set his jaw. Semper Fi. He turned to Stephanie. “What’s your best guess, Brewer?”
She drew in a long breath then blew it out and spoke. “Based on what they’re carrying, sir, I’d say Libya is our best bet.”
“Libya?” He rolled his eyes.
“Yes, sir.”
The unrest in Libya exuded danger. Violent extremist activity shut down all travel to and from Libya. The US Embassy in Tripoli closed in 2014. The US had no one there to help. Terrorists attacked with no warning, targeting hotels, transportation hubs, markets and local government facilities. Wyatt was on his own with no means of backup if the plane landed in Libya.
Steel broke the momentary silence. “I agree with Brewer, sir. But don’t give up the ghost. The signal might have dropped for any number of reasons, like a storm, a shift in altitude, or turbulence––”
Wyatt shook his head. “Or the son-of-a-bitch discovered Harper’s microchip, ripped it out of her arm, and flushed it.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“I’ve got her.” Emily’s voice pierced the deafening silence. “Do you hear me, Wyatt? I’ve got a handle on Harper.”
“What?” He covered an ear to hear over the roar of jets on the runway. “How? The connection vanished from the screen ten minutes ago. With only one momentary blip, how could you possibly––”
“I couldn’t…but Alyssa could. When I heard Steel say ‘don’t give up the GHOST’ I screamed for Alyssa––in my thoughts, not literally. I told her to transport to the compound to see if she could help. She was standing behind Logan and Kara, and when she saw the blip, she locked on the signal and transported to the GPS coordinates.
“Wait. Slow down, Em.” Processing what his sister described, Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you saying…?”
“Yes. Alyssa found Harper. I don’t know where they are, yet, but wherever they are, they’re together.”
§
A smile turned up the corners of Alyssa’s lips as she heard Emily update Wyatt. “Tell him Harper is okay,” she whispered. “And I won’t let anyone hurt her. I promise.” She glanced at her friend curled into a fetal position on the floor below then inspected her surroundings. The small box holding Harper captive appeared to be lead-lined, which would account for her microchip’s lack of signal. Never had Alyssa fantasized she’d find that tidbit of information valuable, but her intern tour of Capitol Hill included SCIFs, and she remembered the chatty Cathy guide telling the group lead was used to block signals.
The few small holes drilled into the side panels allowed oxygen to enter the box. The thought of Harper being treated like a caged animal stabbed like a knife through Alyssa, energizing her far beyond her previous ghostly experiences. She focused on the iron restraints wrapped around Harper’s wrists and ankles and the chains binding her to the lead-lined box. Immediately, the cuffs melted into red-hot molten metal, and tumbled to the floor. But the heat never fazed Harper.
As the shackles hit the ground, Harper lifted her tear-stained face and stared at the sparkling apparition hovering above. “What’s happening?” The question fell from her lips before Alyssa’s image emerged.
“You’re being rescued.” She knelt beside Harper and smiled.
“Alyssa? Oh, thank you, God.” Harper grimaced at the bruises on her wrists.
“I’m glad you’re okay. You have a lot of people worried, though. Especially my brother. How did you manage to get yourself into this situation? Never mind. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. Right now, we’ve got to figure out how to get you out of here.”
“Are you really here?”
“In the flesh. Well, not so much the flesh, but yes. I’m really here. Did those creeps hurt you? I mean, stunning outfit, but you look like shit.”
“I feel worse.” Gazing at her rhinestone-studded attire, she shook her head. “The bastards played dress-up with all of us to show off our assets.” Harper pushed against the floor, bringing herself into a sitting position then rubbed her bruised ankles. “Oh, Alyssa, I’m so thankful you found me, but how?” She gazed around the small container confining her. “From the looks of this box, the inner shell is lead, which renders my microchip signal useless unless I can get out of here.”
“Maybe a blip bounced through one of these air holes.” Alyssa pointed her head toward an inch-wide circle drilled into the side panel then ran a hand along the corners of the six-by-six container. The box appeared––from the inside––to have no door, which was impossible.
“I know we’re on a corporate plane, but God only knows the destination.” Harper rubbed her forearms and gazed at her surroundings now lit by the soft glow of Alyssa’s image. She pushed against each panel. “Damn. There has to be a way out of this prison.”
Poking her head through the top, Alyssa peered around the larger tunnel-shaped room lined by numerous containers. “As far as I can tell, your cage is tucked between several other boxes. This must be the cargo area. The clamp is secured in place by a padlock. Hang on a sec.” She thrust her image through the container then glared at the lock until it too melted and fell to the floor. Another intense stare and the side of Harper’s crate popped open. “There we go.”
Harper jumped and grasped the top of the panel then hoisted herself over the edge. “You’re incredible, Alyssa. Thanks. It made me sick to think of what they intended to do to me. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Don’t thank me so fast. You’re not out of the woods yet. We need to get you off this plane.”
“Right. Before we arrive at their final destination, wherever that is.”
Scanning the cargo area, Alyssa told Harper what she heard at the compound. “From all indications, you’re on a ten-hour flight, which at least gives us a little time.”
“Ten hours? Where the hell are these thugs taking me?” She climbed off the row of boxes then glanced around.
“Most likely to Libya.”
Harper’s jaw dropped. “Li.-by-a? Oh, crap.” She rolled her eyes then shook her head. “I really thought I could handle these guys.” She shoved the box then turned and leaned against the side. She scanned around the small baggage area again. “Is there any way you can help me get out of here?
Again, Alyssa drifted around the cargo area of the small jet then shoved her head through the door to get a look into the cabin. “I can’t tell much from this vantage point, but let me check the cockpit and sniff around a bit.”
Harper’s eyes went wide. “Sorry. I’m still getting used to your uh…unique talents.”
Fading her image to almost transparent, Alyssa swirled into a mist then floated through the cabin where she saw three men sitting in plush seats around a table. Dressed in western attire, they sipped an amber liquid, toasting their low-ball glasses and chit-chatted in a language she couldn’t understand, but their smug attitudes further fueled her anger. Glancing forward, she noted the name etched on the front panel: MFI Pharmaceuticals.
In the cockpit, Alyssa observed the pilot and copilot checking their altitude and maps, while the plane flew on what she assumed was autopilot. Having never seen a cockpit before, she couldn’t understand most of the switches and indicators on the control panel, but she could read the map, which validated Libya as the flight destination. The skel
eton crew would be easy to manipulate. All she had to do was scare the shit out of them until they abandoned the aircraft.
But Alyssa had no idea how to fly a plane. With her military background, Harper might have some understanding of how to turn the jet around and head home, but if she couldn’t land… Alyssa’s speculations weren’t helping. She needed to talk to Harper so they could come up with a plan.
Returning through the cabin, Alyssa couldn’t resist shaking up the men a little to set the stage. For starters, she knocked a newspaper off the table and sent it flying across the room.
Eyes wide, the men stared at each other.
Laughing, Alyssa lifted a coffee cup upward about a foot then dropped it onto the table.
The men scuttled from their seats and inspected the cabin.
Ha, you can search for a logical explanation, but you’ll find nothing, you bastards. She snickered. Enough for now.
When Alyssa returned, Harper was examining the other boxes in the cargo area. “I tried to pry open some of these” ––she pointed toward the few small crates beside the exit––“but I’m more concerned about those larger containers in the tail section. They’re big enough to easily hold a child.” She hooked a thumb toward the tail section. “I could use your unique expertise to take a peek.” She strode toward the rear of the plane then turned toward Alyssa. “Any good news topside?”
“Not really. Have you ever heard of MFI Pharmaceuticals?”
“Yeah, they’re a worldwide pharma corporation, Why?” Harper’s brow narrowed.
“Looks like they own this plane. The name is splashed across the front panel.”
“Hmm. MFI Pharmaceuticals involved with high-stakes trafficking? Actually, the premise makes sense. They fly in and out of countries worldwide every day. What better way to hide contraband?” Harper bit the tip of her fingernail. “What else did you see up there?”
“Two men in the cockpit and three in the cabin. I thought about scaring them into skydiving…but unless you can fly this tub, I’m not sure that action would help. Do you have any flying experience?”