Deadly Escape

by Colleen Helme

  He thought this was so much better than anything he could have planned. The group who’d arranged his extraction might not approve, but they’d just have to get over it. Cypher wasn’t about to let this opportunity to blow me up slip through his fingers.

  He checked his watch. At one o’clock, there was still plenty of time to make the rendezvous, but he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. He moved back to the table and spoke to his men. “I need to put the finishing touches on this and then we can go. It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

  With his attention off of me, I listened closely to their thoughts and tried to piece it together. If Cypher hadn’t planned to blow me up ahead of time, how had he managed to make a bomb? These guys seemed to know him and followed his orders without hesitation. Were they part of the group who’d arranged his escape?

  But who could do something like that anyway? Who could break into the CIA like that? Unless…it was someone in the CIA, or in a position of power in the government? A chill ran down my spine. This whole operation was bigger than Cypher.

  The idea of arresting Alan must have been the set-up for Cypher’s escape. That was the plan all along. The group behind this had been ready for that moment. So who was it? I listened hard to all three of them, but they were concentrating on getting the bomb ready, so I didn’t get any answers.

  But I got enough to know that the vest held enough explosives to level a small building. They’d also rigged the phone attached to the vest with a sensor, so it couldn’t be removed without triggering the bomb. Did that mean it could be activated by a phone call?

  I let out a breath, holding onto the hope that Ramos wasn’t too far from finding me. My hearing wasn’t quite back to normal after the flash bomb, but I listened closely to every sound outside I could hear, hoping the next car that drove down the street would be him.

  At the first sign of rescue, I could fall to the floor, or run, or do whatever I could to get out of the way so they could shoot him. I just hoped they got here before Cypher put the vest on me, because after that, it would be too late.

  From the table, Cypher grunted with satisfaction. The job was done, and this was a masterpiece, clearly one of the best bombs he’d ever made. He’d missed the intricate details of putting the fuses together, along with the rush of adrenalin that accompanied the knowledge that, with one misstep, it could explode in his face.

  Breathing with anticipation, he came to my side, extinguishing all hope that someone would rescue me in time, and drew out his knife. He held the switchblade close to my face to terrorize me, then flipped it open.

  Before he cut through the bonds around my wrists, the other men came to my sides and held my arms down. They each took an arm and made me stand up, holding me tightly against my struggles.

  Cypher moaned and brought the knife to my throat. “Shelby,” he chided. “You are tempting me to cut you.”

  I held still and closed my eyes. His fingers touched my throat, lifting my jaw to expose my neck. He stood close enough to smell my perfume and breathed it in, enjoying this moment of sweet revenge. He pressed the tip of the blade against the base of my throat, and a piercing sting followed.

  I caught my breath. He leaned close to my face, his cheek almost touching mine. “Barely a scratch,” he whispered in my ear. “You should be grateful.” As he pulled away, he caught my gaze. “But I will do worse if you don’t hold still. It would be a shame to mar your pretty face before you’ve served your purpose.”

  My stomach churned, but I tried not to show how his taunts unnerved me. I wanted to spit in his face, but I knew that was exactly what he hoped for, and the excuse he needed to use his knife on me, and I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure.

  A few seconds passed before he turned back to the table and picked up the vest. He held it carefully, instructing his men to slip my arms through it without jostling it too much. Once it rested on my shoulders, the men resumed their tight hold, and Cypher pulled the vest together, snapping the buttons over my chest.

  The heavy vest rested over my shoulders and my racing heart like an evil weight. My legs began to tremble, and sweat trickled down my back.

  Like a tailor, Cypher connected all the intricate parts together. Then he used duct tape to secure it in place, making it impossible for me to wiggle out of it, no matter how hard I tried. He connected the timer last, using enough tape to insure that it wouldn’t budge.

  “How much time should I give you?” he asked.

  He wanted me to beg for mercy. But I wouldn’t give him the pleasure. “How about ten seconds? You can start it now.”

  A smile creased his lips. “Once you’re where I want you, I’ll start it remotely. Depending on the circumstances, I’ll decide how long to give you.” He was thinking that he could change the time to anything he wanted. That way he could kill as many people as possible.

  He looked over the vest, making sure it was ready, then gave a nod to his men. “Let’s go.” Looking at me, he said. “Try not to jostle it too much.” That comment was meant to scare me, since he was certain it wouldn’t explode without the signal.

  Following Cypher, the men ushered me out the back door into a connected garage. A white van, with a plumber’s supply logo across the sides, took up the space. They helped me onto a bench in the back, and one of them sat beside me, while the other got behind the wheel. Cypher took his place in the front passenger seat.

  Without windows in the back, I couldn’t see much, but I picked up from Cypher’s thoughts that we were headed to the National Mall. His target was the Lincoln Memorial, but I didn’t see how he could manage that. Cars were not allowed to drive by it, and I wasn’t about to walk there on my own.

  He pulled out his phone and told the person on the other end that we were on our way. Then he glanced back at me. “Do you know where we are going?”

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation. “The Lincoln Memorial. But you can’t get close enough, and you can’t make me walk up there so you can blow it up. They’ll catch you first.”

  He shook his head. “You’re right about the place, but I think you’ll do it.”

  What did he mean by that?

  He turned on the radio and concentrated on the music, hoping to throw me off. It worked, and I had no idea what his plans were. I hoped, once we stopped, I could pick it up. But what did it matter? How could I stop him this time?

  “Over there,” he said to the driver. We pulled into a parking lot off the road near the monument and circled around until he found a parking spot. From here, the Lincoln Memorial was too far for me to walk without someone noticing the vest. There was no way this was going to work.

  The man sitting beside me reached into a bag and pulled out a large, navy blue, nylon jacket. He slipped it over my arms without a lot of help from me and zipped it up. It completely concealed the vest. Then he moved to the back of the van and began unzipping another bag.

  “Now,” Cypher said, pulling my attention back to him. “This is what you’re going to do. See that man there?” He pointed to a guy in a bulky sweatshirt, standing beside a couple of bikes.

  “You’re going to get on one of those bikes, and that man is going to ride behind you to the monument. Once you’re there, you will park the bike and walk up the steps. Halfway to the top, you will take off the jacket, and my associate will signal me. From that point, you will have one hour before the bomb goes off.”

  He was thinking that he wanted to make a statement, and sixty minutes was long enough to have the news, police, and other teams mobilized. “They will think you intend to blow yourself up and try to reason with you. Of course it won’t work. By the time they realize that you’re not a terrorist, your time will be up.”

  He thought the best part of the plan was the timer, and a thrill of excitement raced over him. The authorities would think they had plenty of time, but he’d change the amount of time left to mere seconds and blow everyone up before they could leave.

  “What ma
kes you think I’m going to follow your instructions?”

  “Because there’s someone ready to shoot innocent people if you don’t. He will start with the children.”

  My mouth dried up and I couldn’t swallow. “What do you mean?”

  “Look behind you.” I turned to see the man behind me assembling a sniper rifle like he’d done it a thousand times. “We will be driving along the road that circles the back of the memorial. If you don’t do as I ask, he will shoot the first child we come across. Believe me, he is a good shot. He won’t miss.”

  “You’re sick,” I said. “They’re going to catch you, and you’re going to pay for this.”

  Cypher opened his door and stepped out. Then he slid the side door open and motioned for me to move. “Time to go.”

  My breath caught. There had to be a way out of this. If I stepped out, I was a goner. Noticing my hesitation, Cypher motioned to the sniper. He moved past me to the vacated front seat, holding the rifle in one hand and a gun with a silencer in the other.

  He set the rifle down on the floorboard and rolled his window down. He rested his elbow out the window and then held the gun with the silencer out of sight underneath his arm. A family with two young children walked by, and he pointed the gun at them. With no hesitation in his mind, I knew he’d take the shot if Cypher gave him the order.

  Cypher glanced at me. If I didn’t go, he’d have them all killed and take off before anyone noticed. Then he’d throw me out of the car on a busy street and blow me up anyway.

  “All right, I’m going.” I stepped out of the van.

  I slipped past Cypher, who stepped into my vacated spot. Before he closed the door, I picked up his excitement to blow me up, and bile rose in my throat.

  Hearing the door slide shut behind me, I walked on trembling legs toward the man with the bicycles. I reached his side, and he extended the bicycle my way. “Get on and stay on the path. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Letting out a breath, I managed to climb onto the seat without too much trouble, although my legs were shaking so bad I thought for sure I’d fall over. I rode along the sidewalk as slowly as I could, cringing over every bump and crack.

  I slowed before riding down the path to the memorial and glanced over my shoulder toward the parking lot. The van crept toward the street, keeping me in sight. I contemplated tipping over to give me some more time, but I didn’t want them to start shooting kids.

  Letting out a sigh, I turned forward. A woman with a baby stroller stood right in front of me, blocking my way. I jerked on my brakes and put my foot down but couldn’t stop the bike from tipping over, taking me with it.

  The woman hurried to my side. “I’m so sorry,” she said, placing her body between me and the guy behind me. Surprise washed over me. It was Sloan. What was she doing here? I glanced into her calm eyes and she sent me a nod.

  At that moment, tires screeched on the pavement, and a loud crash sounded, followed by shouting and more screeching tires. My mouth dropped open. Cypher’s van had been t-boned by a black SUV, and several men in black swat uniforms ran toward it.

  Shots rang out, and people screamed, running away in terror. The man behind me jumped off his bike and pulled out his gun, aiming it straight at me. Pure terror caught in my throat. But before he pulled the trigger, he rocked backward from a gunshot to his chest.

  “Shelby?” Ramos bolted to my side, still holding the gun. “Are you all right?”

  Totally surprised, I rocked back on my heels in shock. “Wait! No! Stay back.” I frantically held my arms out in front of me to stop him. He slowed but wasn’t about to stay away and continued to my side.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “There’s a bomb…under…under my jacket.” I managed to pull the zipper down and opened the jacket to show him. I pulled the jacket off and caught his gaze. “It’s taped to me. I can’t get it off.”

  Ramos’s eyes widened with alarm, and his breath caught. He glanced at the timer, noticing that the red numbers on the timer hadn’t started yet.

  “They haven’t?” Hope soared through me. Did that mean Cypher hadn’t had a chance to send the signal? “His phone activates it,” I told Ramos. I glanced toward the wreck. Shots still sounded, but if he’d been hit, there might still be a chance he couldn’t send the signal.

  “Is that a bomb?” Sloan asked, backing away.

  I nodded. “But it hasn’t…” Just then the clock came to life, starting with thirty minutes and counting down. “No!”

  Agents surrounded the van. Cypher sat in the front seat with his arms raised in surrender, a smug look on his face. One of the agents slid the side door open and came face-to-face with the sniper.

  Shots rang out, and the agent fell to the sniper’s bullet. The sniper kept shooting, determined to take out as many agents and people as he could, but only got off one more shot before a bullet caught him in the neck.

  Cypher ducked behind the door until the shooting stopped. He placed his hands behind his head and waited. The remaining agents trained their guns on him and told him to step out of the van. He opened the door.

  With deliberate slowness, he slipped from the seat. As his feet touched the ground, his dark gaze found mine, and his face burned with hatred. How had they found me? He was going to kill me if it was the last thing he ever did.

  With his hands behind his head, his phone was hidden from view, but he could still pull it off. A push of a button was all it would take to blow me up, taking everyone in the vicinity with me. He probably wouldn’t survive either, but it was better than going back to prison.

  “The phone’s in his hand,” I said, my voice shaking. “He’s going to blow us up.”

  Without hesitation, Ramos swung his gun toward Cypher and fired. I froze, expecting to die.

  Cypher’s body jerked from the impact, and the phone slipped from his fingers to clatter on the pavement. Spots of red blossomed on his chest, and he sank to the ground.

  Beside me, Ramos slipped his gun into his holster and turned his attention to me. The bomb was still counting down the seconds. He glanced at Sloan. “Get the phone Cypher was holding, and get everyone back.”

  Ramos studied the ticking bomb on my chest. He knew something about explosives, but he’d never encountered anything like this. He muttered a few words in Spanish that sounded like a prayer. “How do you disarm it?” he asked me. “What did you pick up?”

  I closed my eyes, trying to remember how Cypher had set it up. “I don’t know. I just picked up that the timer has a sensor in it and I think it’s connected to Cypher’s phone. I think you need to stop the signal from reaching the timer.”

  “I’ve got it,” Sloan called from the van. “I’m shutting it off.” She fiddled with the phone but couldn’t get it to work. “It’s locked. I can’t get it to open. What should I do?”

  Ramos glanced at the timer. Fifteen minutes remained. He reasoned that if the signal came from the phone, then if the phone was disabled, that should stop the signal. He just didn’t know if it would also cause the bomb to go off. It was a gamble, but he couldn’t see another way to go.

  “Smash it!” Ramos called. He tightened his grip on my arms and caught my gaze. “This will work.”

  I grabbed his arms and prayed he was right. I watched Sloan place the phone on the ground while a soldier used the butt of his rifle to smash it. He hit it twice, and the phone broke into little pieces. Holding my breath, I glanced at the timer.

  It stopped, and I gasped in relief. “It worked!” In the brief second before I could thank Ramos, it started back up again.

  Ramos swore. “Shit. There must be a backup signal somewhere.” He glanced toward the van and yelled at them to search for another phone, telling them the timer was still going.

  “Ramos,” I said, my voice breathless. “Look at the timer.”

  He glanced down and registered the new countdown. Shock tightened his features. “Less than two minutes? It reset.”

  “What do
we do? There’s no time to find it now.” Tears blurred my vision and I choked back a sob. “You should go. Get everyone as far away from me as you can.”

  “No. I’m not leaving you. We can beat this.”

  “How?”

  He shook his head trying to think of a way to break the signal. “We need to get out of range. Where can we go where the signal won’t reach it?”

  “Uh…an elevator…a parking garage? I don’t know.”

  “I’ve got it. The signal can’t go through water. Come on. We’ve got to hurry.”

  Chapter 8

  Ramos grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the Potomac River. With less than ninety seconds left on the timer, I wasn’t sure we could make it, but we had to try.

  As we passed Sloan and the agents, Ramos yelled his plan to them. I heard one of them thinking that it would take a miracle to make it. Then I heard a familiar voice saying, “Allez, allez, allez! You can do it, Chérie!” Gabriel was here, and my heart swelled with hope.

  As each second ticked away, I ran faster than I thought possible, keeping up with Ramos. We ran across two streets, finally coming to the grass at the edge of the slope, and plunged into the river. Ramos dragged me into the water, sloshing through the shallow edges.

  At thirty seconds left on the timer, we’d gotten deep enough that the water covered my chest and the vest, but it was still ticking. “We have to get deeper to break the signal,” Ramos said. “Put your arms around my waist.”

  He turned his back to me, and I wrapped my arms around his middle. Taking a deep breath, Ramos dove below the surface, kicking frantically to take us into the murky depths. I squeezed my eyes tightly and held my breath, hoping beyond hope that this would work.

  Touching the bottom, Ramos turned me in his arms. With my hair floating around me, I could barely see the glowing red timer with the seconds ticking by. All at once, the light went out. It stopped! Air rushed out of my lungs, and I had to quell the urge to inhale the water.