He glanced at Morgan. She was beautiful. Her skin was tight and she clenched her teeth, but Jack thought she'd never looked better. He wanted to run his hands down her cheek, touch her, reassure her that everything would be fine.
He couldn't.
He didn't know when of even if things would get better. Morgan would only appreciate knowing the truth. He didn't have to tell her what was about to happen. She already knew.
The two hills on either side were mirrors of each other. Their steepness rose at the same angle. Several yards more, Jack thought. He looked behind them. The four vehicles could be a convoy. Formed, three crossed and one behind, they traveled at the same pace. The ground ahead of him was flat for several hundred yards. The hills would rise steeper, then fall away. It had to be now.
Jack waited. He watched the truck behind him. It got closer. He could see the man in the driver's seat. He wasn't Korean or any extraction of Oriental heritage. He could have been from any European country or from any state in the lower forty-eight. His features were taut and determined. He drove with concentration and purpose. Jack's eyes made contact with his in the rearview mirror. They held for a second, then Jack floored the accelerator and took off.
On cue, each of the trucks behind him did the same. The incline on the side of the twin hills grew steeper by a sharp degree. Both trucks began to slide downward into the path of the oncoming truck that pursued Jack with unbridled abandon. The truck on the right hill hit a rock and started to roll. It fell onto the flat ground just as the one on the left came to a stop. The impact of the two trucks swung them around in a weird promenade that was joined by the third truck crashing into the first two and jumping into the air. The metal ballet fell short of an in the air split. The three of them slid together like Siamese triplets trying to turn in separate directions.
They came to a crashing halt of tangled metal, their noise magnified by the valley between the hills.
"Yes!" Morgan whooped, looking backwards. "You did it." She reached for him, but the trappings of her tight seat belt and harness kept her in place.
Jack bumped along the nearly flat ground. Several yards ahead it ended in a turn. Swinging the vehicle around, he came to an abrupt stop. Ahead of them sat a military helicopter. Jack recognized the heavily armored McDonnell Douglas AH-64 Apache. This gunship had less speed and range than its successor, a Russian Mil Mi-24 Hind used in the Afghan war, but the sophisticated navigation, ECM, and fire-control systems on board more than made up for the lack of speed. In any case, Jack was trapped. He couldn't outrun it. It stared at them like a fierce animal, big, green, its rotors silent, its gun pointing straight at them.
***
"Why the hell didn't you tell me, Clarence?'' Hart Lewiston slapped the week-old newspaper on the desk of the FBI Director. "Someone tried to kill her."
"The newspaper doesn't say that." The paper said there was a gas leak and a neighbor investigating the smell had been killed in the explosion.
"It doesn't have to. You and I know what newspapers don't say. Her house blew up and someone was killed. She hasn't been seen since. Where is she, Clarence?" Hart glared at the FBI director.
Hart Lewiston was a senator. He was running for president and likely to win. He never traveled alone, but he'd stormed into the office of the director without a single security agent following him.
"Hart, we're trying to find her. We've been on this since the incident occurred."
"You knew, didn't you, Clarence? When I walked in here two days ago spilling my guts about a child I didn't know existed, you already knew?"
Clarence took the seat behind his desk. "Sit down, Hart." He said it quietly. The man in front of him was angry and might get angrier. Clarence decided to tell him the truth. He was her father. He deserved to know.
Hart hesitated, but took the seat. He looked at Clarence with an unobstructed view.
"Morgan has been under limited surveillance for twelve years, since she returned from the Olympics in Korea. We offered her witness protection. She refused it."
"Witness protection. Why?"
"Morgan was a gymnast and she was on the Olympic team. She had a legitimate reason to go to Korea."
"I know that everyone on the planet has seen the video of her winning the gold medal. Why should that matter?"
"We had a man in a Korean prison with information in his head. We needed to get him out."
Hart came out of the chair so fast he nearly toppled it over. "I don't believe it. Are you saying that girl"—he pointed at the newspaper—"that nineteen-year-old was the person who got me out of that Korean jail?"
Clarence looked up at the towering senator. "Not entirely, but without her you would have died there. When she agreed to do it, no one knew either of you were related."
"Why not? You're the damn FBI. You know everything."
Clarence explained the details of her birth outside the United States. Her years of being homeless and then adopted. They needed someone who could do what she did and, at nineteen, no one thought there was a connection between a homeless adoptee and you."
Hart sat down. He nearly collapsed into the chair as though his leg muscles had stopped functioning. "When did you find out?"
"A few days ago.'' He didn't know before that, but Ashleigh had.
"You should have told me."
"I wasn't her mother. If she chose not to tell you and Morgan didn't tell you, it wasn't my place."
It was a weak answer, but it was the truth.
"Where is she now?"
"West Virginia. She should be at FBI headquarters in less than an hour." Clarence checked his watch.
"I want to go there."
***
Fear manifested itself immediately in the coldness that gripped her, shooting through her body like pure heroin injected into several veins at once. Morgan's hand shot out and grasped Jack's arm. Breath caught in her throat, preventing her from screaming. A cold finger slid down her spine, its coldness so stark her entire body shuddered. She blinked at the huge green monster, expecting it to open fire, cutting them down in the weakly protected van.
"Get out of the vehicle,'' a voice boomed through some kind of address system, metallic, authoritative, decisive, imposing. It vibrated through her like a cold Chicago wind. "Hands in the air."
"What do we do?" Morgan asked, not taking her eyes off the two men in the helicopter.
"Comply," Jack said. He opened the door and raised his hands. "Morgan, do exactly what they say." She heard the warning in his voice.
She opened her door, raising her hands in the same fashion as Jack. As soon as she was outside the helicopter door opened. A man in fatigues stepped out, pointing a rifle at them. The man was a giant, dressed in the same colors as the helicopter. His dark skin blended into the surroundings, but the rifle remained brilliantly black, the sun glinting off its barrel.
"Who are you?" Morgan tried to keep the quaver out of her voice.
"I ask the questions.'' His voice was gut deep. It barreled through Morgan, enforcing her fear. "Move away from the vehicle." He jerked the gun to the side.
Morgan stepped in the direction he indicated. She glanced through the door at Jack. He moved one step also.
"You!"
Morgan jumped as he shouted at her and shoved the gun. She felt more than saw Jack move. The giant swung the gun toward Jack. He stopped.
The big man pulled a pair of handcuffs out and threw them on the ground between Jack and Morgan.
"Pick them up," he snarled at her.
Morgan looked at them as if a snake wiggled there.
"Pick them up." This time he spoke quietly and slowly, enunciating each word as if she spoke a foreign language. Morgan stepped in front of the SUV and picked up the silver shackles. "Put them on him." He indicated Jack.
Morgan looked at Jack. She stared into Jack's eyes. He nodded slightly. She walked toward him, her eyes never leaving his as she put the handcuffs on his wrists.
"It'll be all r
ight," he whispered.
"Move away from him," the giant ordered.
Morgan stepped back and turned around. She stood directly in front of Jack. The giant threw another set of cuffs at her feet. "Those are for you. Put them on." His snarl grated like blackboard chalk.
The look Morgan gave him could melt stone. Obviously he was harder than stone. Morgan reached down and lifted the dusty shackles. She stared at the green giant as she braceletted her hands together.
"Now, get in." He waved the gun toward the opposite side of the helicopter. They both moved. "Not you." They both stopped, but he indicated Jack.
"Where are you taking us?" Morgan asked.
"To hell. Now do as I say or I'll take a dead body back. It means nothing to me one way or the other."
"Morgan." Jack's voice held a warning. "Do as he says."
She responded to Jack's commands and walked toward the silent bird. The man sitting in the pilot's seat trained his gun on her, a small hand pistol. He opened the door as she approached and stepped out. The back doors were already open. Morgan stepped on the skid, but couldn't get into the aircraft with her hands banded. The pilot hauled her into the seat and slid the door closed. Jack was seated next to her, but the giant additionally cuffed his leg to the bolted seat. Morgan immediately knew these two understood each other. Had they met before?
Jack had known the man at the camp who tried to kill her. Did he know this man too? Or was he known by his reputation? In any case he was taking no chance that Jack would do something abruptly. The door next to him slammed closed, making Morgan clench her teeth.
Above her the rotors started to turn. The noise grew to a roar. Morgan thought quickly. She had to do something. They couldn't capture them both. Jack had sent the ring and papers to Washington. They no longer had them. So there was no longer any reason to keep either of them alive. If one of them got away, the other could buy time. Jack could do nothing. He was shackled to the seat in which he sat. It was left to her. Her heart thundered at the plan hatching in her brain. She'd never expected anything like this. She would have to leave Jack. It was the only way they could survive.
Quickly she looked at their killers. They had placed earphones over their ears. Morgan turned to Jack. "I'm leaving," she mouthed, not speaking out loud.
Jack frowned, but made no move. Morgan wasn't sure he understood her, but she couldn't explain. The helicopter lifted off the ground. The green giant had stored his rifle. He had a handgun bolstered on his right. It was out of sight. The pilot's gun was also stored. Both his hands worked the stick in front of him. Morgan stole a glance at Jack. His eyebrows rose as if to question her motives.
She couldn't explain. Every second counted. There was no time to tell him that with both of them, their captors had checkmate. They could play her against him, threaten him to get her to tell them what they wanted to know. Jack might be strong and able to cope with what they could do to her, although she doubted it. He played the strong, silent type, but she knew underneath he'd cave as surely as she would in the face of a threat to him.
One of them had to get away if the other was to be protected. These men were killers. She didn't need a course in anti-terrorism to tell her that. As soon as they found out neither of them had what they wanted, at least one of them would be expendable. Morgan couldn't take the chance that it might be Jack.
The helicopter continued to rise. They must be twelve feet off the ground. She had to do it now. The rise was swift. Another eight feet and she'd be trapped.
Whipping her head around, she turned to Jack. "I love you,'' she shouted over the rotor noise. In movements as fast as lightning, she grabbed the door lock with her shackled hands, pulled it open and flipped herself, head first, through the opening.
With hands sure from years of practice she grabbed the skid support. Grit and dirt from the ground replaced the chalk for a surer grip. Without thinking, she swung her weight from one skid to the other, getting away from the open door and a possible bullet. She hung there a second before letting go and dropping to the ground. Her training, which would have her pounding her feet onto the hard-packed surface, deserted her as the survival instinct in her made her bend her knees and quickly fall into a roll, removing the vibrating impact that would go up her shin muscles through her knees and into her hips.
Around her, debris circled in the maelstrom created by the beating rotor blades. Small stones, twigs and grass hit her from all sides. She was directly under the bird, out of eyesight, but in the open. She needed a hiding place where the helicopter couldn't land. The SUV was too far away. If she went for it, she'd be an easy target for the guns she was quite familiar with. And the men in the other three trucks could trump her if they suddenly appeared. The huge bird circled, obviously searching for her. Morgan ducked behind a bush. It began to descend.
A shot rang out. Morgan jumped. Her head snapped around.
The sound didn't come from above, but from in front of her. Again she heard it along with the accompanying thunk of it hitting something. It had to be someone from the three trucks that had pursued them. The helicopter rose higher and took off amid an array of gunfire. Why were they shooting at the helicopter, she wondered? Weren't they in this together? Working for the same side? Morgan didn't wait to find out. The SUV was her only chance. Jack had left the keys in the ignition. She thanked him for his thinking.
Darting out from her hiding place, she raced for it. She didn't know how far the other guys were and she didn't want to meet them face to face. Jumping over twigs, bushes and rocks, Morgan catapulted herself into the driver's seat she. She turned the key, and took off in the direction where the menacing helicopter had sat. Acceleration slammed the passenger door closed. Morgan checked the rearview mirror and the sky. She had enemies in both places. She was pretty sure the mangled trucks were useless, so her immediate danger would be the sky above her. She cursed the vehicle for its lack of a sunroof. She could see nothing.
They could probably see her. She drove blindly. Jack might have known how to get to Clarksburg over the hills, but he hadn't shared the knowledge with her.
Morgan strained to see anything. She heard nothing. Where were they? Where were they taking Jack? Would they hurt him? She refused to think they might kill in. A knot rose in her stomach as hard and immovable as the stretch of mountains in front of her.
***
Morgan willed herself to slow the vehicle down. Her heart pumped fast and her foot seemed to ride the accelerator at the same breakneck pace. Jerking her foot away, the SUV lurched in an attempt to rapidly reduce its RPMs. Something hard flew out from under the seat and hit her foot. She didn't have time to look down. Maybe it was Jack's gun. She hadn't seen the green giant search him, but while she got in the helicopter, she couldn't see what was happening to Jack. She'd been searched. So if Jack had taken his gun out of the holster and left it, that was what hit her foot. Morgan felt a little more comfortable knowing she had something to protect herself with if one of the enemies came back.
She stopped the SUV under two large trees. Their branches entwined over her head, forming a canopy and a hiding place for her. Looking down, she found what had hit her foot. It was small and black, but it wasn't a gun.
It was a phone.
Morgan grabbed it. It wasn't Jack's secure phone. Thank God he'd had the presence to mind to get another one, one that wasn't secure. It could be traced, but only if they, whoever they were, knew she had it. Morgan needed help and this was her lifeline. She didn't need to ask Jack if this constituted an emergency. It did.
She squeezed the instrument to her breast, closing her eyes and praying silently. What was the name of the guy Jack trusted, she wondered, trying to remember what he'd said his name was. Nothing came to mind. She had to call someone. Quickly she dialed the only person she knew who could help her.
Jacob Winston.
CHAPTER 14
Clarence Christopher swept the door to Jacob's office open and walked inside. He was followed by
Hart Lewiston.
"Is that her?" Hart asked.
Jacob nodded. He'd had his secretary call Christopher the moment he discovered Morgan was on the phone.
"Where are you, Morgan?" Jacob spoke into the air.
"I don't know. I'm in the hills. Jack left the main road shortly after we got on the highway from Clay to Clarksburg." Her voice came over the speaker phone as clear as if she were in the next room.
"Clarksburg?" Hart said. "What's she doing there?"
"Who's that?" Morgan asked.
"Morgan, this is. . ." he hesitated. Jacob saw him swallow. "Hart Lewiston," he finished. Jacob wondered if he found it difficult to say he was her father. Accordingly, there was silence on the other end of the phone. Obviously, father and daughter weren't on comfortable terms with each other. Suddenly Jacob thought of his daughter, Krysta, and felt a pang of understanding wash through him.
"I jumped out of the helicopter but they took Jack."
"Are you all right?" Hart asked.
"I'm fine, but I'm afraid of what they might do to Jack. I need to know where they took him."
"You said they have a military helicopter," Jacob replied.
"He could be anywhere. Can you tell me anything more about the helicopter?''
"Only that it was painted like the camouflage clothing and it's different than the one Jack stole and flew away in Indiana."
"What!" Hart exploded.
Morgan ignored him and went on. "I don't think they took him too far away. They were sitting silently in a ravine, as if they knew we were coming. It looks like someone had a plan. Are there any old cabins, abandoned mines, ski trails, anywhere you could set a helicopter down without it being noticed?"
More Than Gold (Capitol Chronicles Book 3) Page 25