by T. F. Walsh
The doctor frowned. “Mr. Lincoln can be a stubborn, cold-hearted man. If we hadn’t rushed her into surgery before he arrived, he’d have done whatever he could to stop us. I actually think the man was disappointed when she didn’t die. It was as if her survival has inconvenienced him somehow. He’s the typical rich, arrogant man I despise, but I kowtow where I must. His company donates generously.”
“I don’t trust the bastard. I actually looked into his alibi for the time of the attack, but he came out squeaky clean. He’s still on my radar. My brother thinks it’s all about money. If Nikki dies, everything would go to Mandy, and because of her age, Daddy dearest would be in charge. I know he’s rich, but they say you can never have too much money.”
“What do you need from me?”
“A believable reason why Nikki would have a relapse that would force you to put her back into an induced coma. The press is what got us into this mess, and it’s what we hope will get us out of it. You’ve done everything in your power to save her life. Help me keep her and her daughter alive.”
Irene bit her lower lip and stared at him long and hard. He could almost hear her thinking. “She could have an embolism. Blood clots wouldn’t be impossible, considering the severity of her injuries. We’ve been giving her heparin just in case.”
Jason nodded and continued to pace the room, each step filled with anxiety. “That’ll do it. For this trap to work, there has to be a body in the bed to make it look as if she’s still here. We’ll use a gel dummy with a little cosmetic paint, to make it look enough like Nikki to fool anyone who glances into the room. We’ll have extra agents in place for security.”
“Some of my staff will have to be aware of the situation.”
“For everyone’s safety, the fewer people know the truth, the better.”
Irene nodded.
He walked over to the window and watched the setting sun, letting the doctor digest what he’d said. Everything was scheduled to happen within the next four hours. He prayed there’d be no screw-ups.
“Very well, you win. Where and when will this transfer occur?”
“We’ll do it tonight, around seven, between shift changes.”
The doctor stood, walked over to him, and held out her hand. “I hope to God you know what you’re doing. I’ll do what I can at this end to make things work. I want to see the bastard who did this caught.”
“He will be, Irene, he will be. You have my word on it.” He shook her hand. “I’ve got to get back and polish up some last minute details. My teams will be in place in three hours.”
• • •
Nikki watched as Cassie reattached the IV line to her right arm. Two members of Jason’s team had come by an hour ago to fill her in on the final details. Brad, the team leader, would stay in San Francisco and communicate with them each day on a secure cell phone. Interpol agent Ivan Smirnov would leave San Francisco, ostensibly to return to Paris, but would actually set up shop in the Boulder, Colorado, FBI field office, the one nearest to their destination. He’d continue to pursue leads in France and be available for backup should they need it. She’d felt better about things after they’d left, but she was certain she was still being kept in the dark on some matters and that bothered her.
Mandy was tucked into the bed beside her. The little girl’s milk had been laced with Benadryl to help her sleep during the transfer and ensuing flight and van ride. She’d wake up in Colorado, totally oblivious to where she was and how she’d gotten there. Jason had thought it best not to tell Mandy they were moving her. Nikki had agreed. Children that age weren’t necessarily the best at keeping secrets. The child’s excited chatter might be overheard, and that could ruin all their carefully laid plans.
While she agreed Mandy should be calmed, she’d balked at the thought of being sedated herself. Irene had explained the rigors of the journey would be too much for her otherwise, and she’d reluctantly agreed. She hoped she was doing the right thing. If she wasn’t, it was too late to back out now. God help them both.
“I may not agree with his decision,” Irene said, “but I trust him to keep you both safe.”
Everybody trusts him except me, and I’m the one putting my life and my daughter’s life in his hands. Go figure.
The door opened to admit two men dressed as orderlies.
“Are you ready for your command performance, Mrs. Hart?” said the larger of the two men. “The others are already in place.” He smiled at her reassuringly. “We’ll get you out of here nice and safe, and Jason and his team will keep you that way.”
Nikki nodded.
“Let the show begin.”
• • •
The C-28, a Cessna 404 Titan provided by the U.S. military, sat on the tarmac. The transfer from the ambulance to the ten-passenger, twin-engine plane was accomplished quickly. Troy and Angie were already seated when he boarded. Nathan helped Cassie to a double seat where she’d be more comfortable and strapped her in using pillows around her abdomen to cushion the seat belt. He sat beside her. From the way she acted, Jason surmised the young nurse wasn’t a fan of flying.
Two seats were fully reclined, and Nikki had been secured in one, Mandy and her doll in the other. Jason covered both his charges with wool blankets. Neither wore outdoor clothing, and Jason didn’t want them getting chilled. Irene had warned him a secondary infection for Nikki at this point in time could be dangerous.
Jason sat in the seat beside Nikki, fidgeting as he tried to get comfortable. Despite all the precautions they’d taken, he was terrified something would go wrong. What if The Butcher had been watching and waiting all along, and moving her like this was exactly what he wanted?
Damn it, Spark. Quit second-guessing yourself. You screwed up once, fine. But you’ve got this now.
The buzz of the other passengers’ chitchat made him antsy. He wanted to get the show on the road. He fastened his seat belt and waited impatiently for the plane to get moving.
“Relax, Spark, for God’s sake,” Troy said. “You’re making everyone nervous. The plane can’t move until the pilots finish their pre-flight checks. I know it, and so do you.”
Jason sighed. “I know, but I won’t feel safe until we’re airborne and San Francisco’s way behind us.”
The loudspeaker crackled.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Captain Harris. We’ll be taking off shortly. Please fasten your seatbelts. We’re flying into a front, so the ride may get a little bumpy. Flying time should be about two hours, forty-five minutes.” The loudspeaker went silent.
The increasingly loud whine of the engine announced the plane’s readiness. “Here we go.” The force of gravity pushed Jason into the seat as the small plane lifted into the air. He looked down at the woman on the seat next to him. Nikki seemed to be sleeping peacefully. He hoped she wouldn’t be too sore before the trek was over.
It was amazing how his life had changed in eight months. Last March’s botched raid on that survivalist ranch had almost cost him his life. He’d lost three good friends that night. The incident had broken him and brought him home to Larosa to heal.
He’d been fed up with putting his life on the line and then getting badmouthed for doing so. Some people didn’t understand how dangerous homegrown terrorists could be. The real enemy wasn’t always the easy one to see. Before Labor Day, he’d given serious thought to resigning from the bureau. Everything had changed the night of that 911 call.
Whatever plans he’d made had been set aside. He was a lawman first. He hadn’t found Denise’s killer twelve years ago, but he’d find this son of a bitch. He’d protect Nikki and Mandy and see justice served. Failure wasn’t an option. He’d find a way to atone for his sin of negligence that night. The father’s sin—add his sin to that theology, too.
When he’d bought the house near Boulder, Colorado, last spring, he’d had no idea how important his bolthole would become—or how quickly. Someday, after he retired from law enforcement, he planned to write a book based on the cas
es he’d worked. The house’s isolation would give him the space to pursue his dream. He’d had some of his things from Langley shipped to the house including his oil painting. He’d hoped to use a similar one-man-against-the-world idea as his book cover.
Autumn in Colorado was cool, but the golden trees were a sight to see. Snow would fall by mid-November blanketing everything in white. It was anybody’s guess how long they’d be here. There were a number of ski resorts in the area, but his chalet was located off the beaten tract. Nikki wouldn’t be able to enjoy the outdoors, but Mandy would. At his request, Brad had arranged for the supplies to include children’s Nordic skis as well as other snow toys to keep the child occupied during the day. Adult equipment was aboard the plane, along with a few other “playthings” Troy had deemed essential.
The hum of the plane was comforting. He glanced at his watch. It was almost nine. Knowing they’d made a clean getaway helped him relax, and he closed his eyes.
“Are you awake?” Troy’s voice roused him.
“Yup. What’s up?”
“I wanted you to know that Thomas Lincoln officially ended our contract to protect Mrs. Hart. He sent the check by courier and told us our services were no longer needed. I take it he doesn’t know we’re here.”
“No one but the members of my team and the director knows you’re sitting shotgun on this one.” Jason shook his head. “Something about the guy’s insistence that it can’t be a hit man doesn’t sit right with me, but I can’t figure out why. I’ve been looking into the bastard for weeks, and he keeps coming up smelling like roses. Even after I told him about the two bodies we found in Auburn, he insisted we were barking up the wrong tree. He’s been trying to get me thrown off the case right from the beginning, and I take that personally. I know he’s from one of San Francisco’s prominent families, but old money isn’t necessarily clean. My gut says the guy’s dirty, and it’s usually right.”
Troy leaned back and stretched out his legs. “I don’t understand that man’s attitude any more than you do. I can make a few calls and see if I can turn up anything.” He chuckled. “I have friends in low places.”
Jason nodded. “I’ll bet you do. I dug, looked where I could, and found nothing. I’ve got the team’s techno geek digging deeper. Another source can’t hurt.”
“Consider it done. “
Satisfied, Jason closed his eyes once more and tried to sleep.
• • •
While the flight had taken slightly less time than the captain had expected, thanks to a tail wind, the fog and heavy rainfall had made the mountain roads treacherous, and the two-hour trek had become a three-hour one. Thank God for Troy’s incredible skills behind the wheel. Finally, the lights of the chalet welcomed them. It was well after two in the morning with the time difference, and the adrenaline generated by the excitement of the escape from the hospital and the flight had worn off. Everyone was exhausted.
Angie unlocked the door and preceded them into the house. She flipped the switch and light flooded the room. The electric heat turned up earlier by the agents who’d prepared the house had the place warm and cozy. Jason carried Nikki while Nathan had Mandy in his arms.
Cassie entered last and closed the door behind her. Troy was parking the vehicle and would be in shortly.
“When you said we were going to stay in a house in the mountains, I didn’t expect anything like this. And it’s really yours?” Angie asked. “I wouldn’t mind a place like this someday.”
Jason chuckled and shifted his burden. Nikki wasn’t heavy, but his shoulder ached from the awkward position in which he’d held it throughout the ride.
“Lock, stock, and mortgage. I used my share of the money from my mom’s estate to cover most of it. In ten years’ time, it’ll be all mine. I plan to retire here someday.” He glanced down at Nikki. “Let me get her settled, and then we can get organized.”
Built originally as a family retreat, the house was ideal for entertaining or putting up the help he needed on this case. Two stories high, the A-frame’s upstairs boasted three bedrooms and a bath. Downstairs, there was a large, newly renovated master bedroom with its own en suite bath. French doors opened out onto a private deck that ran the width of the house. Attached to the bedroom was a former nursery, which he’d turned into an office.
A large, open-concept kitchen/dining room/living room with a stone gas fireplace filled most of the remaining space. A powder room and utility room completed the main floor. A back door, accessed from the patio under the deck, led to a mudroom. The basement housed the furnace, water heater, and well access. A detached garage near the house sheltered the generator that provided electricity in the event of a power outage.
The first time he’d been there in May, he’d filled the days with trout fishing in the South Platte River and kayaking on Boulder Creek. The nights, he’d spent trying to forget the incident that had sent him back to Larosa in the first place. He’d replayed the scene in his mind, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, but the answers eluded him.
For months, his counterterrorist unit had been gathering intelligence on a small group of survivalists in Maine. The group had shown up on the radar when Homeland Security and the Canadian Border Services had busted an illegal gun running operation. In an effort to make a deal and with luck save himself serious jail time, the driver had given up the buyer and the destination. When the FBI had arrived, the house was empty.
Three months later, intel came in from a reliable source that the man they were looking for and three of his men were holed up on a farm outside Portland. His superior had put the plan in motion. The team consisted of eight highly trained agents, all wearing Kevlar vests, men and women trained for the job, but they’d walked in on a war. No one had anticipated the firepower and the marksmanship they’d faced. Kevlar doesn’t help when the enemy shoots for the head and neck. Two of his best friends died instantly without even firing a shot. He’d been discharging his weapon at the house when a second barrage had come at them from the garage. The bullet had struck him in the armpit, one of the vulnerable spots even wearing a vest. The bullet had lodged in his lung. He’d been damn lucky the trajectory of the bullet had been altered by his ribcage; otherwise, it would have traveled straight to the heart. Erika, the newest member of the team and the woman he’d been dating for six months prior to that night, had seen him fall and had left her secure position to rush to his side. For weeks afterwards, when he’d closed his eyes, he’d see the look of surprise on her face and the perfect red circle in the center of her forehead.
The rest of the team had taken the bastards down, but no one could explain how they’d known they were coming. He’d lost three good friends and all the press saw was that there had been two teenagers in the ruins of the house afterwards—teenagers who’d killed indiscriminately, but the press insisted they’d been innocent bystanders.
Emotions screwed you up. They affected your rational thinking skills. Twelve years ago, he’d let his feelings for Denise stop him from throwing her ass in jail when he should have. She died. Eight months ago, Erika had let her emotional attachment to him pull her to her death. It seems every time he got seriously involved with a woman, she died. He wouldn’t let it happen again. He looked down at the woman in his arms. No. It was better to be alone than live with that kind of guilt.
He gently placed Nikki in the king-size bed, while Nathan settled Mandy on the nearby cot. The child had awakened once in the van, upset to be in the dark, but she’d gone right back to sleep, lulled by the movement of the vehicle. He’d be on another cot in the room next door, where he’d sleep for the duration of the assignment. He’d be close enough if Nikki needed him, but far enough away to give her some privacy. The others would all sleep upstairs.
“I’ll take it from here,” said Cassie.
Jason nodded. “She moaned a few times near the end. The meds must be wearing off.”
“I’ll give her something. The longer she sleeps, the better.” Nathan w
alked over to him. “How’s your shoulder holding up? Do you want something for it?”
“No, thanks. It’s been worse, and I need to stay sharp. I’ll be out there if you need anything.”
Jason left the bedroom and walked into the great room where Troy and the others waited. While Nathan was here primarily as a physician, he’d handle double duty as Jason’s partner on the protective detail. They’d work in six-hour shifts—two on, two off. The only one not doing guard duty was Cassie who’d look after Nikki and Mandy. They’d divvy up whatever else had to be done on an as needed basis. Everything was in place. All they had to do now was wait—and Jason hated waiting.
Chapter Eleven
Jason stood in front of the living room window. Just after six in the morning, it was still dark out, and the four hours’ sleep he’d had weren’t enough to rest his body and ease the ache in his shoulder. It was still raining. He hoped it would let up later in the day. He wanted to check on the gasoline for the generator. Power outages were common in this kind of weather.
He turned on the gas fireplace to dispel the early morning dampness and chill. Troy and Angie had stayed on guard throughout the night and were getting breakfast ready. He and Nathan had the next six-hour shift. He sipped the coffee Angie had made—good and strong the way he liked it.
Troy came over to stand beside him. “There are scrambled eggs with ham ready for you in the kitchen. Angie’s gone up already, and Nathan’s on his way down. I did a couple of perimeter sweeps during the night, another one before I came in. The flashlight and slicker are in the mud room. I didn’t see anything suspicious, but I think we need to have a look in the woods this afternoon. If we need to rig something up, I have a man who can be in and out within ten hours. I noticed a lot of animal tracks last night. How’s the hunting around here?”