Point of No Return

by Rita Henuber

  “Major, before you leave, I’d like you to meet my mom.”

  “Then we’ll need to speak with you too, Mr. O’Brien,” Meyer said.

  “Yeah,” Jack said, his voice sounding hollow. He gestured for her to go down the hall and he followed to a family room/kitchen area that took up the back of the house and smelled of fresh-brewed coffee. A trim attractive woman with a rottweiler beside her looked up, put a hand to her throat and sucked in an alarmed breath.

  “Mom?” Jack went to her side.

  She shook her heard. “I’m sorry, it was seeing a woman in the uniform. For a moment I thought . . . I thought you were Becca . . . Sorry.” Mrs. O’Brien patted the dog’s massive head. The dog accepted her attention but kept its eyes trained on Honey.

  “I’m Major Thornton.” Honey walked to the woman, offering her hand, but stopped when the dog’s lips curled back.

  “Sasha. Behave.” Mrs. O’Brien tapped the dog’s head with a well-manicured hand. The dog snorted and looked up.

  “Clare O’Brien.” She reached out and took Honey’s hand, encasing it with both of hers. “We’re all jumpy.”

  “Understandable, ma’am.”

  “Can I get you a coffee?”

  “No, thank you. The agents are through with me. I should be going.” Honey looked around. A woman in a dark suit with a bureau badge hanging on a lanyard sat at the kitchen table working a laptop. A man in a windbreaker emblazoned with FBI sat before an array of electronics.

  “They’re set up to listen in on calls and whatever the FBI does,” Mrs. O’Brien offered. “No one has called.”

  Honey nodded. “Have they”—she gestured to the window, where outside a line of men and women combed the yard—“found anything to help?”

  Jack shook his head. “They came through the back and used the air-conditioning system to deliver a knockout gas.” Honey noticed the female agent was taking an interest in the conversation. “The alarm system was bypassed by an expert and they scrambled the camera feed,” Jack said.

  The agent pushed her chair back and stood. “Mr. O’Brien, we’d prefer you not share details.”

  “She’s okay.”

  “Sir, I have to insist.”

  Jack shot her a look over his shoulder and waved dismissively.

  “I should leave,” Honey said.

  “Please stay,” Clare said politely, but her eyes pleaded. “It would be nice to have another woman here. They won’t let any of my friends in.” She shot the agent a look.

  “They’re right, ma’am. Too many people here can contaminate evidence and redirect your memory, complicating their investigation.” Honey looked at the female agent, who was eyeing her. “They’re the good guys. The ones who’ll bring Ali home. I don’t want to get in their way.” Honey took a business card from her pocket and handed it to Mrs. O’Brien as Carpenter and Meyer joined them. “If you want to talk, and the agents say it’s okay, call me.” She handed cards to the men and they reciprocated. “You need me for anything else?”

  “Not now.” Carpenter looked at her card. “This a twenty-four-seven number?”

  She patted the phone in her pocket. “Yes.” She looked at Clare. “Ali will come home safe,” she said with resolve.

  Clare said nothing.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Jack said.

  Honey shook her head. “Not necessary.” She turned and walked away without another word. No sense taking a chance on the agents picking up their body language or a vibe between them.

  Honey threaded her way through the early lunchtime traffic back to Georgetown. A sensation resembling the after-effects of a bad dream mixed with the dull pain of a hangover overcame her. She braced her elbow against the window and rubbed her forehead but couldn’t erase the feeling.

  She and Jack knew the truth. If they shared info with the bureau, the agency would immediately be removed from the investigation because of Global’s connection with the DoD. A supersecret black ops organization would swoop in. Their priority would not be rescuing Ali. It would be hiding Global’s activities. Government powers would never allow the details of the Global debacle to see light. It would be perceived as a blow to the public’s confidence in those who govern. Bring demands for investigations of secret legislative committees. The operation would be quietly shut down. The doers would leave, unfettered by prosecution, move to a country supportive of their operations and start a similar venture.

  Jack once called her a flag-waving, card-carrying patriot, and it was true. Serving, doing the right thing for country had been ingrained into her since infancy. It was a clear driving motivation. Thoughts of powerful men employing dark operating procedures for ulterior motives constricted her throat. She’d been damned naïve to think she could change anything. Not everything in her career had been done exactly by the book, but she’d never overstepped the law. If she saw tomorrow’s dawn she’d be considered a rogue. An officer not to be trusted.

  None of that mattered. As long as Ali and Jack were safe.

  Chapter 23

  Honey pulled the SUV into its spot in the garage and took the stairs to the kitchen two at a time.

  “She’s good,” Buck called.

  “We’ve had eyes on since you called,” Gunny said as she pushed by.

  “Show me.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Coop tapped an iPad screen and held it for her to see. “She’s in a part of the training room. She slept until an hour ago. Likely, they drugged her. They’ve brought her food and bottled water. Now she’s practicing moves.” Honey looked carefully. She was in PJs and socks, practicing punches, blocks, and air kicks that were pretty good. She looked okay. She swept a finger over the child’s image on the screen and let out a long breath of relief.

  “We’ve been freaked about leaving the kid in there,” Gunny said, his normal impassive expression gone. “Knowing she’s there and what they’re capable of . . . Damn.” He rubbed the top of his head and took a deep breath. “Can’t imagine what O'Brien’s going through.”

  She was barely keeping it together thinking the same thing, worried they would attempt to fly her out of the country. Ruben had learned the company leased planes on an as-needed basis to ferry men around the world. Planes that accommodated men and machinery. But this morning Global had ordered a twelve-passenger executive jet with an international crew for departure in the morning. “What’s the plan to get her?”

  She quickly outlined Jack’s plan. A plan of desperation she’d agreed to knowing her guys would have something better mapped out by the time she got home.

  “That’s it?” Cooper said, eyebrows climbing his forehead. “The big CIA agent could only come up with the standard make-them-pay, attack-back plan?”

  “With two people we needed to keep it simple.”

  “That you did,” Gunny said, sounding like Yoda.

  “Did you really think we weren’t going in on this?” Santiago said, hands on hips, giving her a wicked evil eye. “Since you called we’ve been getting ready.” Heads bobbed in agreement.

  “Couldn’t count on your help until you knew everything.”

  They lined up shoulder to shoulder, arms folded across their chests, waiting. Five sets of determined eyes stared her down. Kara looked like a child posing to have her picture taken with her favorite action heroes.

  “O’Brien is not letting Nelson walk away.”

  “Suits me just fine,” Buck mumbled.

  “Getting Ali out is the priority. Nothing supersedes. You go in on this you will be the ones getting her out. O’Brien has no illusions of getting out alive. My job”—her mission impossible—“will be getting him out. There’s no telling how this will go down. Tonight could be a clusterfuck and earn us a go-directly-to-jail forever card. Consider this before you say you’re in.”

  “We are going to help get that kid back,” Coop said in a steely voice.

  “Dude, no way to sugarcoat this,” Buck said. “We don’t go in and it gets turned over to the good guys�
��—he looked around—“everyone in this room knows the pricks go free.”

  “The go to jail forever?” Honey said.

  “A few days maybe,” Santiago said and flashed a smile, “but not forever. I posed some hypothetical stuff to a friend, an attorney with an international cyber crimes organization. She said if a real case like this comes up give her a call, they’d be very interested in helping.”

  Yes, and she was not without her contacts. Her family was owed many favors and for this chosen family she wouldn’t hesitate calling in every single one of them.

  Gunny stepped forward. “We. Are. In. Only one we’re not too sure of is . . .” He tipped his head in Kara’s direction. “We’re thinking she can stay in the van with Coop, watching and lip-reading. But,” he said and shrugged, “you want . . . we’ll put her in plastic cuffs and leave her in your safe room. Your call.”

  Kara went rigid and stood string straight. “Oh, hell no.” She jabbed a finger at Gunny. “If you, or anyone tries to tie me up it’s the last thing they’ll do.”

  “Settle down,” Honey said. “Wait . . .” She looked at Gunny. “What van?”

  Gunny graced her with one of his rare go-on-forever smiles. “Needed wheels to transport us and our hardware.”

  She didn’t need to know what weapons of destruction he’d come up with, only that they had them. There were other things she needed to know. Honey went to attention straight. “I have to hear an affirmative from each of you. You’re in and you understand there is real danger. Gunny?”

  He straightened. “I understand and I’m in.”

  She called their names, and each responded the same as Gunny. Then came Kara. Honey stood inches from her. “First thought”—and most rational—“I don’t want you with us.” Kara began to protest. “Listen to me. If I do go against better judgment and decide to let you in, you have to do exactly as you are ordered.”

  Kara straightened and nodded vigorously. “I can do that.”

  A part of her brain had a heavy, unpleasant and ominous feeling warning her not to do this. Not just Kara, any of it. She shut that part of her brain off and turned to Gunny. “Kara comes. I want her in as much protective gear as possible.”

  “Done,” Gunny said. “Bomb ordnance suit good enough?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Major—” Kara began a protest.

  Coop took her arm and shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

  “Where is this gear?” Honey said, ignoring Kara.

  “Living room and your study floor,” Buck said.

  Gloria brought out a platter of sandwiches from the Sub-Zero. “Fuel.” They inhaled the food, washing it down with water.

  “Plan?” Honey said when the food was gone. “How do we get in?” All eyes went to Coop.

  Coop folded his arms across his chest and for a long moment appeared fascinated by the pattern in the floor tiles before speaking. “Access we have from your card. They haven’t cancelled it, yet. Keeping us off their camera feed is simple. Getting control of the feeds is the problem. It’ll take five to fifteen very long seconds to redirect.”

  “The control room will catch that,” Honey said.

  “Yeaaah, but . . .” Coop’s sly expression told her he’d worked out a plan.

  “Let’s hear it,” she said.

  He picked up the TV remote and the flat screen glowed, displaying the weather channel and local radar. “I’m counting on storms moving in from the west to give us a break. Supposed to be worse than last night. More lightning, high winds and hail. Did you set a time to begin the diversion?”

  “No. Setting a time would be impossible. We estimated between eleven and midnight. Clare O’Brien will call when it goes into motion. We’ll have to time it from then.”

  Coop pointed the remote at the screen. “Look. Heavy storms with lightning to hit at approximately midnight. I can use one of those lightning strikes to take down the system, hack in and bring it back.”

  “I don’t know, Coop. What about those computer battery backups?”

  “Not messing with the computers. I’ll be tackling their network.”

  “It’s iffy. Those storms could dissipate or there could be no lightning generated anywhere nearby.”

  “I checked three sources. They each say we’re in a five-day severe storm pattern with tonight and tomorrow being the worst. The data agrees on everything but the time they’ll hit.”

  Honey looked around. “You’ve had time to mull this over. You good with this plan? Everybody agree?” They nodded silently. She trusted their opinion. Trusted them. They were as good as if not better than any agents, any black ops team in the business. “I concur. This is a go.”

  “Shouldn’t there be a plan B?” Kara piped up.

  “Oh, there is baby sister,” Buck said. “Plan A doesn’t work”—he threw his hands in the air flapping them—“we run like hell for the exit screaming like little girls,” he said in a falsetto voice.

  Kara smacked his stomach with the back of her hand and they laughed, breaking the tension.

  “Gear.”

  “I’ll get yours,” Buck said. He quickly returned with a duffel and spread her gear on the kitchen island.

  “Three nonlethal weapons.” Gunny touched a beanbag shotgun, a dart pistol and a triple-X military-grade Taser. “I’m assuming not everyone inside will be a kill target.”

  Honey nodded.

  “Dart loaded with a high dose of ketamine. Taser with a three-shot platform.” His hand glided to a long gun. “A suppressed HK. Your own knife and handgun as usual.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. You paid for it.”

  “Tell me about the van.”

  “Panel van like a UPS truck. Black with brown and gold lettering. Gets us and the gear there and back. We’re now a twenty-four-seven highway assistance company. Inside are hidie places for weapons. It will pass on a look, not a stop and search. Major setup for electronics.”

  A visual of Gunny in a dark parking lot trading with an alphabet agent to get the van popped into her head. Or worse yet, him borrowing it without permission.

  “We good with this van? I mean, we get stopped it isn’t going to come up stolen?”

  “You really want me to answer?”

  “Yes.” If he’d added to this by stealing . . . Oh, hell, what difference did it make? Given what they were about to do, auto theft was the least of their trouble.

  “All legit.” He grinned. “Bill of sale and registration in the vehicle just like the law says. And . . . we bring it back like we got it, no money has to change hands.”

  They checked equipment and went over plan details, waiting for the go call.

  “Lineup tonight is me in the lead,” Honey said. “Then Gunny, Buck, Santiago.” They nodded. “Once in, Coop guides us to Ali. We get her. You three take her out and I go for Jack. Ali is the priority. I want her and all of you gone the moment she’s out.” She wanted them out of danger and trouble.

  “We get the kid gone but, due respect, ma’am, we aren’t leaving you in there,” Gloria said, staring her down.

  “She’s right,” Gunny said. “Everybody gets out.”

  “I appreciate how you feel. Understand. O’Brien won’t come out until he has Nelson. I don’t want to leave until I find out who in the government is helping Global. You get out with Ali and . . .”

  “We stand by at a safe distance until you and O’Brien are out,” Gunny said. “That’s the way it is.” They nodded.

  “There’s something else,” she said, breaking an awkward silence. “Jack O’Brien and I have been involved in a sexual relationship for a while. Tennessee was the first I’d spoken with him since before his family was killed. I had no idea he or his family was involved until I was in Moore’s office. This was strictly a mind-fuck coincidence.” They stared silently. “Well?”

  “That’s it?” Gunny said.

  She nodded.

  Kara rolled her eyes and flappe
d her hand in the direction of Buck and Coop, fingers wiggling.

  “Da-aamn!” Buck said, reaching into a pocket. Coop shook his head and did the same, coming out with folded bills.

  “What’s going on?” She had a pretty good idea but she wanted to know who the instigator was. “Kara.”

  “Told them I could tell by your voice you liked O’Brien.” She shrugged. “They”—she shot Coop and Buck a look—“said no way.” She put the folded bills in her jeans pocket. “I said put your money where your—”

  She was interrupted by someone leaning on the doorbell and pounding the door. Honey checked the camera monitor. “Fucking flaming fish balls. Moore.”

  “General Moore?” Kara said. Buck took Kara’s arm, guiding her into the pantry and taking a position inside the door. “I want to see.” Kara said from the shadows of the pantry. Buck mumbled an obscenity and the door clicked shut.

  Coop faded into the dining room. Santiago and Gunny, pistols gripped and held low at their sides, joined Coop in dining room. One of them closed the drapes.

  The pounding grew louder and Honey went to the door, stopping at the living room entrance to scan the room. The weapons were gone, only a couple of black duffels on the floor.

  “Honey.” The banging increased in quantity and volume.

  “What?” she said without opening the door.

  “Damnit. Let me in.”

  “What do you want?”

  He pounded the door. “I want in.”

  Fuck it. Honey unlocked the door and retreated to the kitchen as Moore stormed in, following her.

  “Why haven’t you answered my messages?” He was so agitated he didn’t notice the array of equipment on the counter. “Have you been with O’Brien all this time?”

  Been with him? Honey said nothing.

  “I was told you were at the O’Brien home and questioned by the FBI. What the fuck did you tell them?”

  He knew Ali had been taken and he wanted to know what she said? Well, wasn’t he special? She said nothing.

  “You better not have opened your mouth about Global.” His face grew distorted with rage. “This is a secret operation.”