Feel the Heat (33 page)

“I’ll do my best to help make that happen,” Vivian assured him. “But you know with human nature, there are no guarantees.”

“Why don’t you have the men watching her parents and her brother and his family send along some photos to me? Maybe that will convince her I’m serious.”

“I’ll call them at once.”

When she had left to return to her desk, Olberman inhaled the aroma of the cigar and closed his eyes. The little bitch had damn well better do what he told her. He didn’t take kindly to failure.

Chapter Sixteen

The first part of the plan went off like clockwork. Ed managed to get them lost in the patterns the other helicopters were running until they reached the landing zone. Ed hovered briefly while the men tossed out their gear, then jumped to the forest floor. Ed was gone the moment the last man was out.

Bending low to avoid the backwash from the rotors, they checked their packs, their firepower, their ammo and the special equipment they carried with them. Each man had his handgun and also carried a Larue Tactical Predator rifle with two additional bands of ammo strapped across his chest. Added to this were KA-BAR tactical knives, packets of C-4 explosives and tiny detonators with remote signal switches. And finally, every man had flash-bang grenades to blind and distract the enemy if necessary.

Dressed all in black, they moved silently through the trees, the box in Dan’s pack effectively jamming any signal along the way. Every so often they stopped, listening for any disturbance in the air, checking for the presence of human security the way they had in the military. When they caught sight of the house through the trees, Dan held up his hand for everyone to stop.

“Heat signatures,” he whispered into his lip mic.

Troy waited, barely reining in his patience, for the information.

“Four on the first floor,” Rick whispered. “Inside. Four more on the perimeter of the house. Those are the ones Kat saw.”

“Two in front and two in back,” Mike added. “Three more on the second floor. Two on the left and one on the far right.”

“The single one has to be Lauren.” Troy took a deep breath to settle himself. He’d be no help to Lauren if he let his anxiety and impatience overrule the habits of long training.

“Lower heat signatures on the move,” Rick reported.

“Four outside bodies fanning out,” Mike confirmed in the same whisper. He lifted binoculars to his eyes. “All fully loaded.” A pause. “Assault rifles, guys.”

“Two now in a moving vehicle.” Rick again. “It’s an ATV. Everyone, heads up.”

“Move out as planned,” came the word from Dan. “Troy, we’ll get you the distraction you need, so get moving.”

Troy began edging toward the open expanse of lawn on the side of the house with the single heat signature. Shutting out everything else, slowing his heart rate and his breathing, he focused on his sole objective, Lauren.

“What the fuck is going on?” Olberman smacked his hand on his desktop. The security monitor that he’d insisted be set up in his office, along with the central one downstairs, had suddenly lost its picture. The screen was filled with snow instead of images.

“Vivian,” he shouted. “Get in here.”

“I’m here, Mr. Olberman.” She stood in the doorway. “We have a problem.”

At that moment the communicator on his desk squawked at him. “Mr. Olberman? It’s Keith, at the back of the house.”

“What’s happening out there?” he demanded. “Why is the fucking security system off-line?”

“Two of the men are heading out to check the perimeter right now,” Keith assured him. “I’m on my way to look at the main box. I’m sure it’s just a malfunction.”

“The company that sold it to me promised there’d be no glitches,” Olberman raged. “I want answers now. We’d better still be secure.”

“We’re fine.” Keith’s tone was even, unaffected by Olberman’s anger. “Like I said, just a little hiccup. We’re riding the fence only as a precaution. You know this place is impossible to breach.”

“I know nothing’s impossible, you idiot. I want answers right now. Maybe I need to come down there.”

“No.” Keith’s voice was firm. “Please. Stay right where you are. We’ve got this under control.”

But at that moment he heard a loud explosion and the air beyond his window shimmered with the vibrations.

“God damn it.”

Troy waited silently behind a tiny but thick grouping of trees as the ATV made its way along the fence line. They’d spotted the cameras in the trees but Dan’s handy electronic gizmo had taken them offline. At the point where the stone fence changed to barbed wire, Mike stepped from behind a tree, aimed a dart gun at the two men and took both of them down. The tranquilizer darts would keep them unconscious until police could be called for a cleanup operation.

“Two bogies down,” Mike whispered

Troy moved over to the fence and in a crouch followed it toward the open area where the house sat.

“Lots of movement inside and out.” Dan’s voice, barely audible.

“What about on the second floor?” Troy had to ask.

“Still the same. Everyone forward. Institute phase two.”

As they reached the clearing, four of the men tossed flash-bangs toward the house. The explosions blended one with the other and produced an enormous flash of light and blinding smoke. As his partners moved forward, ready to take out anyone who got in their way, Troy raced for the spot on the ground beneath the window where they were sure Lauren was being held.

He heard shouts and some shots being fired, but he had only one thing to focus on. Balancing himself on the balls of his feet, he grabbed a climbing anchor and rope from his pack, tossed the anchor up until it locked on the balcony railing and shimmied up in seconds. Without waiting to knock, he smashed through the French doors.

A startled and very frightened Lauren backed away from him, staring. He knew what she saw—a stranger dressed all in black and armed to the teeth.

“It’s me, sugar. Troy.” He held out his hand to her. “Come on. We have to make tracks.”

“Troy?” her eyes widened.

“Yes. Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

Recognizing his voice, she hurried over to him. “Oh my god. Troy.” She threw her arms around his neck.

“Wrap your legs around my waist and hold on tight. The ride’s not over yet.”

When he stepped back out onto the balcony with her, he spotted a man below aiming an assault rifle at them. He took a step back, about to shift Lauren and aim his rifle, when he heard the rapid report that was distinctive to the LaRue Tactical Predator. A quick glance showed him the man down, along with three others scattered over the lawn.

He switched his mic to the frequency Ed was monitoring.

“We’re down and on our way. Get here now.”

With one arm around Lauren, he slid quickly down the rope, thanking his tours in Iraq for teaching him to do this under the worst circumstances. As they landed, two more flash-bangs went off to his right.

Then Mark’s voice in his ear startled him.

“Bogie behind you and to your left. I have him in my sight but—”

Just as he said that, Troy felt something bite into the soft flesh under the arm holding the rope. His grip loosened, and they slid the rest of the way down. It hurt like a sonofabitch but as he’d done other times, he gritted his teeth, set Lauren down and grabbed her hand.

“You’re hit.” She held tightly to his hand.

“I’m good,” he insisted, forcing back the nausea that surged up. The bastard had hit his armpit, where the shield didn’t protect him. He knew he was bleeding, but he had to get Lauren out of here. He heard shots behind him and hoped they were his partners and not the bad guys. Ducking his head, he raced toward the trees, his hand holding tightly to Lauren’s smaller one as he pulled her along with him.

Behind him he heard more shots, but he didn’t dare stop to see who was hit. His primary responsibility was to get Lauren to the clearing so Ed could pick her up. Just as they reached the cleared space, the helo flared out above them, leaves blown everywhere, slender trees bending with the force of the wind.

Steeling himself against the pain, he lifted Lauren in his arms and practically threw her into the bird’s cabin.

“Go, go, go,” he shouted to Ed.

“No,” she screamed. “You come with me. You’re wounded. Troy, you’re bleeding badly.”

But Ed was already lifting off.

Once the helicopter was away, Troy leaned against a tree, fighting the blackness rolling over him. He’d done this before. He could do it again. Dan met him as he broke into the clearing.

“Christ, Troy. You’re bleeding like a butchered pig.”

“Everyone else okay?” he gasped.

“Yes. We dragged those wounded but still alive over to the fence.”

Rick was just coming down the stairs with Kurt Olberman in front of him, hands cuffed behind his back. Troy could hear him cursing a blue streak.

“You bastards fucked with the wrong person this time,” Olberman spat.

“No, that would be
your
problem,” Mark said. He looked at Rick. “Everyone else out?”

Rick nodded. “I’m taking him out to the gatehouse, where his assistant is already trussed up. She swears almost as well as he does. Olberman will be joining her in a minute. Then it’s one last bang, and we’re out of here. I’ll wait until then to make the call to the feds and tell them we left them a prize package.”

“You’re dead men,” Olberman continued to shout as Rick practically dragged him through the front door. “I’ll see you in hell.”

“You first,” Troy muttered.

The last thing they did was race through the main building, planting C-4 in all the key spots. Dan took Troy’s plastic explosive from him as well as the detonator. They’d already decided it was too dangerous to leave all of Olberman’s records for some other vicious human being to find.

“The feds would love to get their hands on his information,” Dan had said, “but we can’t take a chance that someone else will. This is the best way.”

Mark and Rick half-carried Troy over to the helipad. With Olberman down, Ed could land on the concrete pad. Dan made the call, and in less than a minute, Troy heard the sound of the rotors. Then the bird came into view, flared out and set down. Moments later, they were all on board and Ed lifted away.

When they were high enough Dan looked at them all and nodded. Immediately, all the remotes were pressed and in a blast that reverberated in the air and shook the ground, Kurt Olberman’s kingdom exploded into a gigantic pile of rubble.

Lauren crawled over to Troy. “Mark?” She looked at her friend. “How bad is it?”

“He’ll be fine,” Mark assured her.

But they were busy getting Troy out of his shirt and armor and packing the wound from a first-aid kit. Dan pulled a long strip of cloth out of the kit and bound it tightly over the packing.

Lauren clutched his hand in both of hers.

The last thing Troy heard was her voice saying, “Promise me you won’t die.”

He managed to nod before unconsciousness took him over.

* * * * *

Ed had radioed the Level 1 Trauma Center at St. Anthony’s Hospital in Denver to let them know they were inbound with a critical patient with a gunshot wound and loss of blood, and gave them his ETA. Lauren knew they’d have to contact the police but Dan assured her they’d handle all of that. Even as he spoke, he was in the other cockpit seat, his Bluetooth cell phone plugged into the cockpit with a special adaptor.

“I have a friend in the local FBI office,” he told her. “I’m going to give him a very brief rundown, tell him they can do the cleanup out at the estate, and ask him to personally meet us at the hospital.”

Lauren barely registered what he was saying. Her entire focus was on Troy, desperately pale beneath his two-day growth of beard. She clutched his hand tightly, whispering to him, telling him how much she loved him.

The moment Ed landed on the hospital’s helipad, a trauma team rushed from the door opening onto the roof, a gurney and other equipment with them. Mark moved Lauren aside so the team members could climb in and lower Troy to the gurney. Then they were off, so fast she hardly had time to ask any questions.

“They’ll know what to do, right?” She could taste the fear in her mouth.

Mark squeezed her shoulder. “This is a top trauma center. The best you can have. They’ll take very good care of him. Ed’s going back to San Antonio to pick up Faith to be with you.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Are you sure she doesn’t mind?”

He kissed her forehead. “She’d be mad if I didn’t do this. Let’s go on inside.”

Ed lifted off and Lauren hurried into the hospital, flanked by all of the men. Then they were in a trauma waiting room and a nurse was pressing scrubs into Lauren’s hands.

“You might want to get out of your bloody clothes,” she said in a kind voice.

Lauren looked down, realizing for the first time that Troy’s blood stained her blouse and slacks.

The nurse smiled at her. “Come on. I’ll take you into our locker room and help you.”

“My—” She stopped. What did she call him? “My boyfriend is the patient who just came in. Can I find out how he is?”

“I’m going to check right now,” Mark told her. “Dan’s on his way to the lobby to meet the feds. Go on, honey. Get yourself changed and come on back here.”

Only the kindness of the nurse kept her from falling apart completely. When she returned to the waiting room, the men were all there, plus two others she didn’t recognize. Dan was standing against the wall, talking to them, and introduced them as Blake Cardwell and Manny Berger from the Denver field office of the FBI.

“Blake has sent a team out to Olberman’s to clean up the mess there,” he explained. “And he took care of the gunshot wound situation with the hospital, so we’re all set.”

She could barely manage a smile for them.

“How is Troy?”

“He’s in surgery,” Mark told her. “I got a minute with the doctor before they took him up.”

“And?”

“They managed to stabilize him and get some blood into him. They’ll let us know the minute they have anything to tell.”