Mojave Rescue

by Tanya Stowe

  COMPROMISED SECURITY

  Electronics engineer Drina Gallagher has created a powerful weapon that will protect soldiers’ lives—and it’s put her own at risk. Kidnapped and locked in a desert shack, she’s desperate to stop her plans from getting into enemy hands, but whom can she trust? Especially when even the security expert who rescues her isn’t who he seems. Forced to blow his cover after spending two years infiltrating a black-market ring, CIA agent Cal Norwood blames Drina’s recklessness, though he admires her courage. And while his mountain cabin offers temporary refuge, protecting Drina means outwitting—and defeating—a relentless foe determined to seize the weapon plans at any cost.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  The quad spun around next to her, kicking dust in the air. Norwood extended his hand.

  The half smile floating over those oh-so-perfect lips gave her the reassuring charge of energy she needed. She gripped his hand. He pulled her up and she climbed onto the back.

  “Hang on tight. It’s going to get bumpy.”

  Norwood gave the quad gas. Dirt and gravel spun out behind the big wheels as he headed toward the road. Drina had to loosen her hold slightly, but not too much, as they hit bumps. Even though she and Norwood were almost strangers and he might be a traitor to their country, his strong, sturdy body seemed the only solid, stable thing in an exploding world. She clung to him with all her might.

  The ATV reached the dirt road leading back to town. They dipped down into the culvert and started to climb the other side. Drina glanced back at the shed and the pile of equipment behind it. Still no sign of Carter. They were safe, really safe.

  But for how long?

  Tanya Stowe is a Christian fiction author with an unexpected edge. She is married to the love of her life, her high school sweetheart. They have four children and twenty-one grandchildren, a true adventure. She fills her books with the unusual—mysteries and exotic travel, even a murder or two. No matter where Tanya takes you—on a trip to foreign lands or a suspenseful journey packed with danger—be prepared for the extraordinary.

  Books by Tanya Stowe

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Mojave Rescue

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  Mojave Rescue

  Tanya Stowe

  Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.

  —Proverbs 3:5–6

  For Delia Latham because this and many other books would not be possible without you. Thank you, my friend.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Shattered Lullaby by Laura Scott

  One

  “Bill, I did it!” Drina Gallagher almost dropped her cell phone in her excitement.

  “Did what?” Bill Carlisle’s sleepy voice rolled across her senses, setting off a faint thread of regret for waking her boss in the middle of the night. Excitement quickly overrode the flash of remorse.

  “I did it, Bill. I fixed the problem.”

  “Drina? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  She didn’t. Secluded in a small office at the desert test facility, her focus had been completely fixed on the data that had turned up in today’s field test. Not only had she lost track of time, but Drina was at Edwards Air Force Base on the West Coast for the test. Bill was at the company headquarters on the East Coast...where it was three in the morning.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot the time again. But I knew you’d want to hear this now.”

  “Wait...did you say problem? Is there a problem with the program?”

  “No...well, yes, there was. I set up today’s work based on the parameters you and I discussed yesterday and everything went haywire. The numbers didn’t make sense.”

  Drina’s company had been awarded a military contract to develop a nonlethal energy-directed weapon that would protect soldiers against supersonic missiles and unmanned aerial vehicles. Their energy-directed weapon needed to impact machines only, destroying the electronics of missiles and UAVs, rendering them useless against ground troops. But the weapon needed to be rechargeable to full power in a short time and, above all, small enough for transport on a ground vehicle. So far, Drina and her company had failed to meet those parameters.

  Until today. Today faulty tests led Drina to an epiphany. The answer came to her in an amazing eye-opening moment, followed by hours of furious number crunching that proved her theory possible.

  “The numbers from the test were off so I created an equation using new figures and...it worked. I solved the problem.” Drina repeated the news for the third time, just to hear the words out loud again.

  Succeeding meant everything to her. Creating a nonlethal energy-directed weapon would secure her company’s position and create jobs. It would solidify Drina’s place in her parents’ exclusive scientific community, but most important, it would fulfill her deepest desire to protect American soldiers. Riddled by guilt, Drina was determined to create a weapon that would help protect America’s military personnel.

  No one knew the secret that pushed Drina to work long hours, to forget to eat and sometimes even to sleep. Not even Bill, the mentor who had hired her straight out of MIT four years ago, knew what drove her. It was her secret alone to nurse, obsess about and feel guilt over.

  Sometimes Drina wondered if even God knew.

  “Bill, I reworked the equation five different ways and it worked every time. We’ll be able to recharge the weapon to full power in less than three minutes.”

  “Full power?” For the first time, Bill’s voice sounded awake and alert.

  “Full. Power. And I think we’ll be able to reduce the weight. We might even be able to go small enough for it to be carried on a soldier’s back. We just need—”

  “Stop, Drina! Don’t say another word. This is my home phone. It’s not a secure line.”

  Drina’s breath caught in her throat. As an electronic warfare engineer, she thought in numbers, not words. Most of the constant security hype sounded like Hollywood fiction to her and she paid little heed. No matter how hard Bill tried, his emphasis on protocol and top secret measures usually went right over her head.

  But not tonight. Tonight his words sent a wave of cold washing through her.

  Perhaps the recent briefing by the base’s head of security had impacted her more than she’d realized. He’d definitely made an impression, but it was more along the lines of his all-American good looks.

  Tall, dark hair, more handsome than he had a right to be. Blue-gray eyes. Even a cute little dimple when he smiled. He had those strong, masculine, next-door-neighbor looks that most women Drina’s age called cheesy but secretly adored. The kind of look that said, “Let me take care of you. I can carry the weight of the world.”

  Drina might have fallen for that look years ago. In fact, she did fall for it. John had that same aura about him. Now he was dead and Drina was saddled with guilt. She wouldn’t forget that lesson.

  No one was that capable, and movies were just moving pictures with pretty people. Cal Norwood could ha
ve walked straight out of one of those Hollywood plots Drina abhorred. That was probably why she hadn’t paid much attention to his talk about eyes and ears everywhere. Now she wished she’d listened.

  Even as her breath caught in her throat, a click echoed over her connection with Bill. Someone else was listening on their line.

  Yep. Definitely should have paid attention.

  “Drina...” Bill’s voice was low and taut. “Where are you? No. Don’t answer. Don’t give that info out over the line.”

  Her stomach flip-flopped.

  “Where is your work?” Bill’s tone was as tense as Drina felt.

  “Most of it’s on my computer.”

  “All right. You know the protocols. Email it to me using our secure server then contact Norwood. He’ll know what to do.”

  “Okay.”

  Bill hung up. Drina heard the distinct double click of another line disconnecting from his landline. Someone had been listening.

  Everything around her was dark except for the single light spilling onto her desk. All the other workers had left hours ago. She was alone, miles away from the main base in a secluded section of the rocket site.

  Drina’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t lower the phone from her ear.

  Protocols. Bill said follow the protocols. She dropped her cell phone. Scratch sheets of equations covered the top of her desk. She scooped them into her arms and fed them twenty at a time into the shredder. The teeth jammed on the thick pile. Drina had to pull it loose and start again, running only ten at a time through the machine.

  All the while, a small part of Norwood’s two-hour lecture on security flashed through her mind. She didn’t know why she remembered that particular portion word for word, but the memory of his firm, modulated voice kept her on task and calm.

  Be mindful of those around you. Janitors. Cooks in the lunch cafeteria. Your coworker in the next cubicle. Eyes and ears are all around us. You never know who might be listening, gathering information.

  The last of the scratch paper disappeared into the shredder. Drina sighed with relief. Grabbing her laptop, she saved the file with her own personal code, then linked with her company’s secure internet connection.

  Linking took precious seconds. Drina’s fingers drummed on the desk with increasing rapidity. Finally, the site came up. She keyed in her password, attached the file and was about to hit Send when more of Norwood’s words came back to her.

  We believe the project has been compromised. We’re certain someone in the network has been leaking information, so we’re cautioning all of you to be extra careful.

  Extra careful. A leak in the network.

  Someone within her company could be giving away information. Drina shuddered. If her equations were correct and they slipped into the wrong hands, a weapon of phenomenal force could be developed. A pulse of that magnitude used on men instead of machines could destroy hearing and vision, not to mention what it might do to a human heart. Finger poised over the send button, Drina held her breath.

  She would not—could not—let her work fall into the wrong hands. Thousands of lives would be lost and Drina had made it her life’s goal to save lives. It was the least she could do to atone for the death for which she felt responsible.

  But could she trust her own network? Was the breach here, with someone on the base or within her own company?

  Drina didn’t know. Couldn’t know. But someone did. Grabbing her cell phone, she looked up the number Norwood had given her in the briefing and dialed. The phone rang and rang. Finally, Norwood’s clear, strong voice came over the line.

  “You’ve reached Cal Norwood. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

  Drina squeezed her eyes shut. Of course. It was past midnight. Like all normal human beings, the man was in bed...asleep. She didn’t want to repeat the mistake she made with Bill by revealing info over the phone so she left a message for Norwood to call her, then hung up.

  She looked around at the shadows just beyond the feeble desk lamp. They felt almost alive, lurking, watching.

  No way was she waiting for Norwood to call back. Deleting the email to Bill, she saved the attached file with a pass code and shut down her laptop. After grabbing her jacket off the back of the chair, she slid the laptop into her backpack, pulled out her keys and headed for the door of the small office.

  The desk light stayed on. She couldn’t face the dark right now. Outside the small office, a long, empty corridor led to the front. That stretch of blackness would be more than enough to cross.

  She opened the door and stood in the portal, light pouring into the black hall, and stared down the long, inky stretch of about forty feet. The main doors were just around the corner. Still, the corridor seemed endless.

  She fumbled in her jacket pocket for her cell phone, grateful it had a flashlight app. Just as she swiped her phone menu up, the desk lamp behind her switched off. Sudden darkness blanketed the room, and she heard the slow whirring of machines shutting down.

  The power had been cut off.

  Fingers trembling, she fumbled with her cell phone. She needed light. Now.

  The main door clicked open. The soft tread of someone walking down the hall echoed in the Stygian darkness.

  The light on her cell phone flashed on, illuminating the corridor like a spotlight. Drina pressed the off button, stuffed the phone in her pocket, turned and ran in the opposite direction.

  Even with her heart pounding in her ears she could hear her tennis shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. Whoever was behind her surely heard her clamoring down the hall. An emergency exit waited just around the corner. If she could get out the door and around the building, she might reach her car ahead of whoever was behind her. She’d lock the doors and speed straight to the closest military police station.

  The red exit sign above the door was a welcoming beacon. She raced to it, slammed into the security bar and skidded out onto the raised entrance.

  A blast of cold Mojave Desert wind slapped at her face, nearly robbing her of breath. Drina had only been to this test facility a few times but she’d already developed an intense dislike of the wind. Its cold touch made her shiver even more. Thankfully, she’d cut her dark hair into a short bob just before coming here. No long strands blocked her view as she gripped the handrail with both hands and slid under. She landed on her feet and took off at a run even before she had her balance.

  She stumbled and almost fell, only stopping herself by pushing against the side of the building. Arms pumping, she ran toward the front, fearful she might trip again without moonlight to guide her. But she dared not slow down.

  Reaching the corner of the building, she came to a skidding halt. A man in dark clothing stood near her car, the lone vehicle in the parking lot. Was that a gun in his hand? Drina caught her breath and held it, not daring to make a sound. Her gaze darted to the side.

  Joshua trees with their unique thick branches and straggly coatings marked the edge of the hill and were silhouetted against the night sky. The road back to the main portion of the rocket site looped around this building on the hilltop. The paved road was just below the trees. If she could get down the hill without tumbling and hurting herself, she could follow the road back to the cluster of buildings and find help.

  Drina spun back around and banged hard against the bulky form of another man dressed in all dark clothing. She would have fallen to the ground if he hadn’t grasped her, clutching her to his chest with one arm. He loomed over her, a faceless silhouette, and held on tight as she silently struggled to break free. The stars overhead outlined his raised fist...just before it crashed against the side of her jaw and everything went black.

  * * *

  Cal Norwood pushed the visor of his car up as he reached the shadows of the mountains. Edwards Air Force Base was located on the far eastern ed
ge of a three-sided valley that spilled into the vast Mojave Desert. He’d been driving west, straight into the setting sun for forty minutes. From the moment he’d locked his office door on the base and headed to the meeting place, his senses had snapped like broken electric wires.

  He eased off the asphalt to the dirt service road and slowed to a halt. Gripping the steering wheel, he scanned the countryside for a car then the air for a helicopter...anything that would give him a hint of what waited for him just over the hill.

  Nothing. Not a sign, nor a sound. Not even tire tracks of the car he knew was there.

  Please, Lord. Don’t let it be true. Don’t let her be in that shack. I won’t give up...not now when I’m so close. Buddy deserves justice.

  Earlier this morning he’d listened to Drina Gallagher’s message and was filled with dread. He’d dressed and rushed to the complex, only to find her empty rented car in the parking lot, signs of a struggle in the dirt and her car keys on the ground. He believed her disappearance had something to do with the text he’d received the evening before from his secret contact.

  You got your wish. Be at the shack at 5 p.m. tomorrow. You’re meeting the boss.

  Two years ago Cal’s best friend died at the hands of a black market gang. Andrew Sterling, Buddy to his friends, had been Cal’s friend most of their lives. They grew up in a quaint older housing tract perched on the hills of San Diego, overlooking the bay. Together they’d watched the big navy ships sail in and out and promised each other that one day, they’d do their part. Buddy had joined the NCIS. Cal had joined the CIA.

  After Buddy was killed, the Department of Defense and the CIA created a joint task force to infiltrate and uncover the gang stealing weapon plans from all the military forces. Cal called in a few favors and wrangled an undercover position on the force. His assignment had turned into two long years of leaks, dead ends and betrayals. Driven, he was determined one way or another to stop these men from killing more people. He ate, slept and lived for the moment when he could finally bring the gang down and serve up justice for Buddy and countless others.