“NO!” Artur wailed and turned around to face Cassie, his face lined with fear.
Cassie pushed him in the chest and the scientist landed butt first on the grated stairs. She threw the guard’s helmet from her head and it careened down the staircase. Fumbling with the gas mask, she secured it to her face just as the noxious orange cloud surrounded them.
The scientist was panicked, trying to simultaneously hold his breath and wrench Cassie’s mask from her face. She held the man down with her leg and watched as he finally gulped in the knockout gas. His eyes momentarily bulged, then he lost consciousness.
Cassie gripped her knife and then saw movement through the grates in the stairs far below.
Guards. Lots of them.
She looked up at the hatch, five flights above her.
Cassie moved, leaping up the stairs, two at a time. Reaching the hatch in thirty seconds, she sheathed the surgical knife in the guard’s tactical vest. Her gloved hands gripping the turn wheel, she heaved with all her might, but it wouldn’t budge.
Cassie released her grip and looked down the stairwell. There were at least two dozen guards thundering up under her.
I have less than a minute.
Panic began to settle in and she turned back to the hatch. Images of Derrick flooded her mind. Their wedding, their honeymoon—all those times she’d greeted him on the tarmacs after his long deployments—him sweeping her into his arms. She thought of her father, her sister, Maverick, the ranch, and of course the moment she’d found out that she was pregnant.
All that had been taken away from me.
And now she was going to die in this godforsaken place. The unfairness of it all released something primal within her and in one last colossal yank, she screamed with all the pent-up rage she could muster and felt the turn wheel give and blow open.
Fresh air blew down on to her as natural light flooded over her body. For a moment, overwhelming relief washed over her, but it was soon squashed by dread.
Daylight was momentarily blotted out as gloved hands grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out of the stairwell. Her gas mask was dislodged from her face, and her fingers tried to find the hilt of her knife but it was too late. More hands grabbed her by the arms and she was tossed onto the dirt.
A half-dozen guards pinned her to the ground as she struggled, kicking wildly. Eventually she was overpowered, her face pressed into the ground, her wrists bound behind her back.
Then she was flipped over. Heaving like a cornered animal, she squinted into the bright daylight. A brawny figure stood over her, then bent down and grabbed her by the hair again, dragging her through the dirt.
“Idiot girl!” Yermakova screamed, tugging up so violently on Cassie’s hair she had no choice but to get on her knees.
Yermakova, her hair dripping wet, stood in front of Cassie and backhanded her so hard that Cassie fell to the ground again. Yermakova’s boot connected with Cassie’s stomach and she felt the breath escape her. “Look around you!”
Cassie sputtered and feared she might throw up.
“LOOK AROUND YOU!”
Cassie opened her eyes. Yermakova stood in front of her, her face purple with rage. At least three dozen guards stood nearby. Cassie took in her surroundings, realizing they were on top of a very tall, very steep mountain. The circular hatch sat open to her left. Twenty yards behind the hatch was what looked like a concrete entranceway expertly constructed into the rock slab of the mountaintop. The concrete door was open and showed what appeared to be a large elevator dock inside.
“WHAT DO YOU SEE?!”
Cassie’s gaze peeled away from the open concrete elevator to the vastness of the scenery around her. They were so high up, Cassie could look down at the immense, sprawling wilderness in all directions. A half-dozen snow-capped volcanoes protruded from the untamed earth. It looked like it never ended.
“Wilderness,” Cassie let out. “I see wilderness.”
“That’s right!” Yermakova thundered. “Immeasurable wilderness.” Walking behind Cassie, she gripped her hair and pulled back so Cassie was looking at the deep blue sky; the drones zipped above like angry birds of prey. “There is nowhere for you to run, stupid girl. Nowhere for you to hide! You will die here, do you understand?”
“Yes.” How could she have been so foolish? How could she have been so impulsive? She would never see her family again. She would die without them ever knowing what happened to her.
The thought made Cassie’s heart thump wildly in her chest.
The thumping grew louder until it was the only thing she could hear, then a great shadow passed overhead and an ungodly wind beat down on the mountaintop.
Cassie looked up to see an enormous military helicopter settle down a hundred yards away on a landing pad she hadn’t noticed before. Cassie squinted and saw that behind the landing pad sat two other helicopters shrouded under camouflaged military netting.
A half-dozen figures exited the newly arrived chopper and made their way to her. As they marched forward, Cassie spotted that the group was surrounding a frail figure walking with the assistance of a cane.
The rotor wash died as the group approached. Yermakova and the guards snapped to attention, their focus on the frail figure.
He was wearing a pressed green military uniform; countless medals hung from his chest. The man leaned over Cassie, a wicked smile on his face. An arthritic, liver-spotted index finger found the bottom of her chin and lifted it slightly.
“Ah, Cassandra Gaines,” the man said, “how long it has been.”
Chapter 49
WASHINGTON, DC
WHITE HOUSE
IT HAD TAKEN Susan Carter nearly two hours to prep, plan, and execute everything that needed to be done before she walked into the White House to deliver the news.
Her first call had been to her friend General Paul Bridgewater, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who had heard Robert Gaines’s recording through the Northern Unified Command.
Carter, who had been marching down the marble halls of Langley, her secure cell phone to her ear, had asked General Bridgewater to order a specific, and expedient, mode of transportation to JBER to pick up Robert Gaines and bring him to DC. The gruff marine said he’d get it done and alerted Carter that he was currently en route to the White House at the command of the president’s chief of staff, Morgan Fray—who had ordered an emergency meeting for select members of the National Security Council.
Her next call had been to her counterpart over at the FBI, Director Stuart Connelly.
Director Connelly had told Carter that he had also been summoned to the White House and that he had just heard the USB recording after it had been kicked down to him by the director of national intelligence, Ralph Nagle.
“I’m being asked why a dead CIA agent crashed a jet with five suspected Russian operators on board, Susan,” Connelly had said. “They’re asking questions I can’t answer!”
“It will all be explained,” Carter said. “I need to put some things into motion before I get to the White House and I have a favor to ask of you.” She’d detailed to Connelly how General Bridgewater was sending a high-speed military jet to JBER. “I need you to tell your men in Anchorage to get Robert Gaines on that jet. We need him in Washington.”
“Susan—”
“Stuart, he will remain in FBI custody, but I need that man in DC. Have him flown into Andrews. Your agents can escort him to the Hoover Building. I need him close, do you understand?”
Connelly reluctantly agreed. “I’ll have Jim Brower bring him here personally.”
“Thank you, Stuart.”
“Susan, what the hell is going on?”
“I’ll brief everyone at the White House.”
“Secretary Macy and DNI Nagle are in full meltdown mode. They’re going nuts because you aren’t answering their calls. They’re asking for your head.”
“They’re always asking for my head, Stuart.”
Carter had hung up and then worke
d on getting McGavran transportation to Andrews. After the old spymaster had left, she marched to her office where the geospatial and imagery directors stood waiting for her. The meeting had been brief and she kept the details of what she wanted to a bare minimum.
After she had given them the two desired geographical coordinates Prescott McGavran had discussed with her, the directors said they’d report back their findings as soon as possible.
When her motorcade got to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Carter entered through the West Wing entrance with Jack Crowley in tow. After passing through the various Secret Service checkpoints, Carter and Crowley walked past the Roosevelt Room, rounded the corner, and were met by the White House chief of staff, Morgan Fray.
The man’s squirrelly build and bald head reminded Carter of Mr. Magoo.
“You have some nerve, Susan,” Fray snapped, clearly irritated. “We’ve been waiting for almost an hour—”
“Where is the president?” Carter said.
“Coming back from Geneva, he’ll be landing in an hour.”
“Has he been briefed?”
“Of course he’s been briefed.”
“Then let’s begin.” Carter marched around the chief of staff and into the Cabinet Room, where Secretary of Defense Alan Macy and Director of National Intelligence Ralph Nagle were in a heated argument in the corner. General Bridgewater sat at the head of the table, flanked by a man in uniform that Carter didn’t recognize and the national security adviser, Thomas Bowman.
FBI director Connelly was talking with his aides farther down the table and stood when Carter and Crowley entered the room followed by Fray.
“Gentlemen,” Carter said, standing at the edge of the mahogany table, “I apologize for my tardiness, but there were certain things that needed to be done before I arrived.” She nodded in appreciation to Bridgewater and Connelly.
DNI Ralph Nagle pointed an accusatory finger in Carter’s direction. “This is not how things work around here; if my office calls your office, you respond immediately, do you understand me?”
“That goes for my office, too,” interjected Secretary of Defense Macy.
General Bridgewater’s booming voice cut over the squabbling men, “Gentlemen, enough! Director Carter is here now, so let’s get on with it.”
It was more than apparent that both Nagle and Macy despised Carter and her role at the CIA. They had strongly disagreed with President McClintock’s decision to appoint her as D/CIA and made their stance on it ever apparent.
“Before we begin,” Carter started, “I’m going to have to ask all aides and nonessential staff to leave the room.”
As the staffers got up to leave, Carter stopped her special assistant, Jack Crowley, and unlocked the OVERDRIVE case file from his wrist, placing the steel briefcase on the table.
When the room was secure and everyone had taken their seats, Carter began: “Approximately three hours ago, I received a recording through my associate director of military affairs and I assume each of you have already heard the contents of this recording?”
The room nodded in unison.
“I will say now, for the record, that I was just as surprised at the contents of that recording as you all must be.”
“Is any of this true?” Thomas Bowman asked, holding up a transcript of the recording.
“You will have to be more specific.”
“This nutjob, the one who crashed the plane. He’s saying he’s a former agent of the CIA?”
Nagle interjected, “My sources in the CIA said Robert Gaines died in the late eighties!”
“I thought the same thing until a few hours ago,” Carter said. “But it is confirmed. The man who crashed the jet on Middleton Island is Robert Gaines, and I can confirm that he was an agent of the CIA.”
A rumbling of dissent came over the Cabinet Room.
“And what about everything else that this Gaines fella said?” Macy asked. “He’s claiming there are Russian operators kidnapping Americans on US soil.”
“As of now, that’s what it looks like. Director Connelly can probably paint us a better picture of what’s been happening on the ground.”
The attention in the room shifted to Connelly. “Thank you, Director Carter. As all of you know, the pilot who crashed the G650 on Middleton Island has been identified as James Gale. His fingerprints have been entered into our databases and have come up as a match for Robert Gaines, a man who Director Carter has just confirmed was an agent of the CIA. I received my last briefing twenty minutes ago from my men in Anchorage. Five bodies were recovered from the crash site and taken to Anchorage where federal agents working with the NSA identified two of the men via facial recognition as known SVR Vympel operators. Our counterterrorism task force has reported that certain ‘suspicious’ technology has also been found in the wreckage.”
“What type of technology?” asked Bridgewater.
“That is currently under investigation, but our experts believe, due to the specific security on the devices, that they’re encrypted through a Tor network. Our experts have backtraced their VPNs and are linking them to Russia. As far as the weapons we’ve found on board, they’re all synonymous with those used by Russian Special Forces.”
“Let’s go back to the plane,” said Bowman. “Are there any records of the jet entering US airspace?”
“Negative. There have been no recorded G650s entering Alaska nor any G650s registered in any of the air traffic control systems in that part of the world. For now, we are going to have to assume that the jet entered the United States illegally and undetected.”
“How is that possible?” exclaimed Nagle.
“It’s more than possible,” Bridgewater grunted. “It’s rare for naval radar to provide constant surveillance in such a desolate region, especially over the Bering Sea. Without a working transponder, planes can virtually slip in and out of US airspace undetected; they’d just need a place to land.”
“And we’ve located that place,” Connelly confirmed. “My agents have found a private airstrip near Whittier, Alaska, where we believe the plane took off before the crash.”
“And how do you know that?” Macy asked.
“We’ve been working in coordination with military air traffic control for possible flight patterns the plane might have taken. Once we surmised the jet could have taken off from Whittier, I had a task force look into it. There they found a burned-out van near the tarmac with one dead body. An Alaskan state trooper named Elliot Vance who Robert Gaines claims participated in his abduction.”
“Did the aircraft have a tail number or a flight plan?”
“Negative, but we’ve located a manufacturer’s serial number on the jet. We are currently working with the Gulfstream company to determine who purchased the aircraft.”
Bowman piped up, “Do we believe the incident in Eagle is connected to the plane crash?”
Connelly sighed. “Yes. My agents in Eagle are working with the local authorities as we speak. According to them, at approximately 9:14 a.m., local time, gunfire was reported outside of the village. Eyewitnesses have corroborated that roughly eight individuals engaged in a firefight that led to the abduction of one individual. That individual has been identified as Emily Gale of Lincoln, Montana.”
“Robert Gaines’s daughter?” Bridgewater asked.
“Yes. I can also report that another man was shot and is in critical condition at a hospital in Fairbanks and two other bodies have been found south of Eagle near an abandoned mining town called Jack Wade.”
“Have the bodies been identified?”
“All we know is that they’re Canadian citizens, two males, but my agents have confirmed that the cause of death of the two individuals were due to multiple gunshot wounds and the two vehicles found on scene were both registered to another Canadian citizen, Ned Voigt. We are currently working with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and Border Patrol to get more information.”
“Two vehicles?” Carter asked.
“Correc
t,” replied Connelly. “Another vehicle was found scorched farther down the road next to a series of abandoned garages. They have also found a makeshift landing strip not far away in the woods.”
“Another plane took off from the area?”
“We believe that is how they escaped the region, yes. As of a few hours ago, the governor of Alaska has grounded all civilian planes in the state. Canadian authorities have also grounded all civilian air travel in northwestern Canada.”
“What are the odds of finding that plane?”
“Slim to none. We don’t know what type of plane we are looking for and have no idea where it was going. The length of the landing strip suggests only a small plane could have taken off on such a short runway. But considering that the witnesses say they saw eight individuals kidnapping Emily Gale, and two of those individuals are dead, we have to assume the plane would have to be big enough to carry seven individuals.”
“What if they didn’t escape by plane?” Carter asked.
“Border Patrol has closed the borders heading into Canada, and authorities in a five-hundred-mile radius are doing individual car searches.”
“Has there been any other evidence to suggest that the plane crash and the incident in Eagle are related?” Carter asked.
“Yes. A piece of technology was found next to the two deceased that is similar to the technology found on the downed G650. Also, at the time of the FBI’s arrival into Eagle we have taken into custody a thirty-three-year-old male, a village public safety officer who we believe was linked to the attack. This individual tipped off our agents to a stash of weaponry locked in a garage near the makeshift airfield.”
“What type of weaponry?” Macy asked.
Connelly opened a binder in front of him and took out a series of photographs and passed them around. “The agents have found a supply of canisters with a foreign chemical agent inside. The chemical contents are currently being investigated.”
“This man in custody, the village public safety officer, has he provided any more information?” asked Carter.
“Negative. But he is being transported to Anchorage as we speak.”
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