Arctic Fire (21 page)

“Like those two snipers who killed people in the DC area and scared the hell out of everybody else awhile ago,” he kept going. “Remember? They were amateurs, but people around DC were terrified just to fill up their cars with gas. It took the cops forever to find them and, candidly, it happened by accident. Setting up kill teams is basically the same concept, except this time the
terrorists are using professionals. The best way to start it off would be simultaneous attacks on the biggest shopping day of the year. On Black Friday. What do you think, sir?”

“Keep that to yourself,” Maddux ordered, wishing now he hadn’t asked. The last thing the United States needed was for someone on the wrong side to hear that idea, because it was that damn good. “See you in the morning.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Ryan.”

“I’m totally dedicated to Red Cell Seven. I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, and I won’t ask any questions.”

Maddux stared intently into O’Hara’s eyes for several moments. “That’s what I want to hear,” he said. They’d really drilled the message into this kid. “That’s
exactly
what I want to hear.”

“And, sir?”

“Yes.”

O’Hara hesitated. “I…I know I’m the first black guy to make it into RCS. And, well, I know that means I have an even higher bar to hit.”

Maddux shook his head. “I don’t see black when I look at you, Ryan. All I see is courage. Do you understand me?”

O’Hara grinned. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

“Yes, sir.”

As Maddux watched O’Hara leave the room, he nodded to himself. This kid was going to be easy to control…which was a relief after all he’d gone through with Banks and Jensen.

C
APTAIN
S
AGE
grunted approvingly when he caught sight of a bright red raft through his binoculars. It was off the starboard bow at two o’clock about a quarter of a mile away, floating lazily up and down on the calmly rolling sea—exactly where it was supposed to be. He’d gotten the coded message from Maddux two hours ago that the drop had been made and the package was ready to be retrieved now that the sub had resubmerged and was a safe distance away. The kid the sub had picked up off the coast of China was almost home. The Falcon was almost back to its nest. Sage wasn’t supposed to know they were called Falcons, but he’d overheard that last year after they’d picked up another one.

As he guided the
Arctic
Fire
toward the raft, Sage’s good mood faded. Speed Trap and Grant were asking too many questions. They weren’t idiots. They’d figured out something was up.

He cursed under his breath. He was pretty sure Speed Trap had gotten a raft onto the ocean while they were throwing Troy Jensen overboard. That was why there was a brand new one in the equipment room. Speed Trap had tried to hide what he’d done, but the captain knew his boat too well. He knew his nephew pretty well too. The younger one wasn’t cold like Grant. Speed Trap had a heart.

“Damn it!” Sage hissed, banging the control panel hard with his big fist. He couldn’t blame Speed Trap. Troy Jensen had saved his life. He’d felt the ultimate loyalty, as he should have, like any good sailor should have. “I just hope to God Jensen never made it into the raft if the kid really put it out there,” Sage growled to himself over the hum of the engines.

Maddux pulled himself up onto the sill of the first-floor window, then eased down onto the wooden floor inside. The small brick home was thirty miles from the farmhouse where he’d said goodnight to O’Hara an hour ago. It was well back in the woods at the end of a dirt driveway, completely secluded from prying eyes.

The place was owned by a young couple who had no children. They were both in their midtwenties, and they were both teachers at the local public high school.

But that was just the husband’s cover. His more important job was to interface with and give aid to in-country Chinese spies.

Though Carlson hadn’t yet received final confirmation that the CIA was a hundred percent positive of the man’s complicity, Maddux didn’t care. He’d seen the file, and he was sure of what this guy was up to—and it had to be stopped.

He closed the window quietly. The couple ought to be sleeping soundly. He’d watched the last light on the second floor go out thirty minutes ago from the tree line on the north side of the
house. He was going to kill the man quickly, and then get out. He had no intention of harming the woman.

As he came around the corner of the living room and into the short hallway that led from the kitchen to the stairs, Maddux almost ran into the guy. For a split second they stared at each other in the dim light cast by the stove’s bulb. Then the man tossed the milk and cookies he was holding at Maddux’s face before barreling into him. He was a big man, and as he landed on top of Maddux on the floor and the wind rushed from Maddux’s lungs, Maddux realized that he might have just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Speed Trap peered out from behind the deck door on the port side just beneath the bridge. He was well hidden here, and he could duck back down the stairs behind him and get to his bunk quickly if he needed to. He wasn’t supposed to be up here, but Duke and Grant were still asleep so they couldn’t rat on him, and he had to see what was going on.

His eyes narrowed as a young man climbed aboard. Sage was holding open the metal gate near the crane so the guy didn’t have to climb over the deck wall. It was the same wall they’d thrown Troy Jensen over.

Speed Trap watched as his uncle and the guy shook hands. It was strange. The guy reminded him of Troy. He didn’t look or talk like him, but the resemblance was still uncanny. He had a certain aura about him that was unmistakable. Just like Troy did.

Speed Trap pursed his lips as he remembered shoving the raft out onto the ocean that night from the back of the ship. He prayed that the Bering Sea fates had been kind to Troy. That somehow Troy had gotten to that raft and by some masterstroke of luck he was still alive.

Troy was too good a man to have died like that.

“Y
OU
OK?” Jack asked.

“I’m fine.”

They were wet, cold, and exhausted after jumping from the warehouse into Baltimore Harbor, then swimming for their lives. They’d been in the water for at least ten minutes before finally finding a place to climb out, and at one point they’d almost been run down by a tugboat. The crew hadn’t seen their frantic gestures as the big craft bore down on them. They’d barely avoided being crushed by the hull and sucked into the powerful whirlpool created by its two huge propellers.

Now Karen was sitting beside Jack on a side-street bench, holding her left arm gingerly.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” he tried again, taking a slightly more specific tack. “Should we go to the emergency room?”

“I’m fine,” she answered firmly. “But thanks.”

He touched his ear and then checked his finger. The cut he’d suffered while crawling through that hole in the fence outside the warehouse had stopped bleeding. “You sure?”

“The bullet barely hit me, Jack. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I’m one of those people who says ‘I’m fine’ a lot too, Karen. So I know the code. It doesn’t necessarily mean I’m fine. It means ‘leave me alone.’” He paused. “Let me check it out, OK?”

She straightened up slowly and turned to look at him. “I told you,” she said deliberately, “I’m fine. I meant it, Jack.”

She was stubborn. “All right.” But she was tough too.

He glanced at her arm again. The sweatshirt was ripped in the triceps area, and he thought he saw a dark stain around the torn material. But it was too dark where they were sitting to tell for sure, even as close as they were to each other. Maybe that was actually Mick’s blood. He didn’t want to say anything to remind her that her friend was dead.

“You’re a tough girl, and I mean that as a compliment.”

“Thanks.” She leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees, and ran her hands through her still-dripping hair. “Why did I have to push you out of that window?” she asked. “Why didn’t you jump? You have a fear of water or something?”

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested. He didn’t want to talk about his fear of heights now. “Let’s get you someplace warm.”