Into the Fire (52 page)

“No,” Sophia said. “He said that before the listen-closely-because-now-I’m-going-to-lie part.”

“Unless it was
all
a lie.”

It was clear that Sophia knew what Hannah was thinking. “He loves you,” she said. “He wasn’t lying about that.”

Hannah shook her head, willing herself not to cry. “He said it because he thinks he’s going to die.” Thinks? Try
knows.
Oh, God…

“Or maybe he said it because he means it,” Sophia countered.

“He told
me
that Izzy’s with him,” Eden volunteered. Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t believe he followed me here.”

“Murphy, Dave, Izzy, Lindsey, Jenk, Gillman, Lopez,” Sophia counted off on her fingers. “And I’ve got to believe Decker’s out there somewhere, too. They’re coming for us. Absolutely.”

“Seven, maybe eight—against an army who’ll be shooting to kill.” Hannah hated those odds. “Don’t you think that’s what Reed wants? For Murphy to come in here…”

“Reed definitely wants Murphy dead,” Sophia said. “I don’t doubt that. And I’m also in Murph’s camp. I don’t believe for a second that Reed has any intention of letting us go.”

Tess stirred, opened her eyes, looked up at them in dread. “Jim,” she whispered. “Sophia, where’s Jimmy?”

“Shhh,” Sophia said soothingly, her hand in Tess’s hair. “He’s all right. He got away, Tess.”

“He got away?” Tess asked, searching for the truth in their eyes, struggling to stay conscious.

Hannah couldn’t look at her.

“He went to get help.” Sophia lied smoothly, convincingly. “He’s going to be all right.”

“Thank God,” Tess breathed before slipping back into oblivion.

And there they sat—no one spoke for a good long time.

“We need to focus on getting out of here,” Hannah finally said.

It was then that Eden shifted uncomfortably, her face contorting in pain.

“You okay?” Hannah asked.

The girl nodded. She was tough, but she couldn’t hide the sudden paleness of her face. “Oh, crap,” she said, her hands on her stomach.

Sophia reached out, touched her. “I’m pretty certain you’re having contractions,” she said.

Oh, crap, indeed. Hannah looked at the girl. “Please tell me that you didn’t lie about your due date.”

Eden shook her head, her mouth twisted. “It’s too soon. They’re just…practice contractions.”

Yeah, right. Hannah’s skepticism must’ve shown on her face because Eden insisted, “The doctor in Germany…figured out the due date…from the ultrasound. But oh, sweet Jesus, this…
hurts.
”

“Okay,” Sophia said, reaching out to take both of Eden’s hands. “Look at me, Eden, look at me! Don’t hold your breath. Breathe through it. Like this.” She demonstrated for the girl—short panting breaths.

“We need to tell the guards to get a doctor,” Hannah said, pushing herself to her feet.

“No!” Eden grabbed her leg. She was on the verge of panic. “They want…to steal my baby. Don’t you dare…get anyone! They’ll take me away….”

“There are drugs that can prevent premature labor,” Hannah told her. “And save your baby.”

“Sometimes,” Sophia said, looking up so that Hannah could read her lips, “the labor’s not premature. Sometimes it’s not really labor.” And then she added, clearly but no doubt silently, over the top of Eden’s head, “Sometimes it’s a miscarriage. I’m not sure if you saw this, but when she first came in, she said they couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat.”

Oh, God. Hannah hadn’t caught that. That was terrible news. And if it were true, if the baby had somehow died, Eden’s body would work to expel it. Which, at this point in the pregnancy, would look and feel a lot like labor.

Either way, Eden needed to go to a hospital.

The girl’s breathing finally slowed and, damp with perspiration, she relaxed back onto the floor, releasing Sophia’s hands.

“Eden,” Hannah asked, crouching next to her. One of them had to be the bad cop, and she had to know for sure. “Are you positive you didn’t exaggerate your due date, so that Izzy—”

“I didn’t.” Eden was affronted. “Izzy’s not the father anyway, and he knows it. He married me because he felt sorry for me. I told you, I’m not due until September.”

“Can you remember the last time you felt the baby kick?” Sophia gently asked.

Tears filled Eden’s eyes again and she wrapped her arms around herself, as if holding her baby close. “No. But I’ve been a little preoccupied,” she said defensively. “I know what you’re thinking, but they were lying about the heartbeat. The monitor they were using was a million years old, and the stupid lady wasn’t even a nurse. I know what they were doing—I’ve seen enough movies of the week. They induce my labor, they drug me, and I wake up and they tell me they’re so sorry but the baby didn’t survive, only he did and five years later, the lady with the—” She got a little garbled here. Was that
false teeth
and
funny eye?
“—is teaching him to read from the neo-Nazi Manifesto!”

Sophia glanced at Hannah. “You get all that?”

Hannah nodded. “Most of it.” God, she was tired. “Eden, I promise you, right now, that we’re not going to let them steal your baby.”

Eden nodded, but it was clear she didn’t believe Hannah. “The way you promised Tess that Jimmy Nash was going to be all right, when you really have no clue if he’s even alive?”

Oh, hell.

“Yeah,” Hannah said. “That way. Because promises like that give hope. Hope that after this is over, I’m going to have a chance to read Murphy’s lips when he says that he loves me. Hope that I’m going to get my life back. Hope that I can be strong enough to get all of us out of here.”

“False hope,” Eden said, her lip quivering.

“No such thing,” Hannah said. “Hope is always,
always
true and good. Now, if it’s okay with you, I have some questions that you can answer that will help us get the
hell
out of here.”

Eden nodded, subdued.

“When they brought you here,” Hannah asked the girl. “How many guards were in the hall?”

“Two.”

“You’re sure.”

“There were two chairs,” Eden said. “Two guards were sitting right outside the door. They stood up when we approached.”

“Was there anyone else in the corridor?”

“No, the whole building was empty,” Eden said. “It felt kind of like a school on a Saturday.”

“How about outside?” Hannah asked. “Any guards posted there?”

“Not at the door we came in. But everyone who was walking around in the compound had a gun,” Eden reported. “All the men, that is. The women walked with their heads down.”

That was pretty typical of Freedom Network security. Rely on the fence and the fact that all of their men were part of their army, were heavily armed, and were paying attention. Except as was the case with most people, the paying attention part was questionable.

At least it was when Hannah had been in the compound in the spring.

She included Sophia—and Tess, whose eyes were open and who seemed to be following the conversation—in her next question, “Have any of you seen anyone—guards or gunmen or anyone—at the cabin or here—using a cell phone or a Blackberry?”

They shook their heads. “In fact, the call to Murphy,” Sophia started.

“Was done on a regular phone line,” Hannah finished for her. “Yeah. The Freedom Network is cell phone averse. They think if they use anything other than a landline, the FBI’ll be able to listen in more easily. Their communication system here in the compound doesn’t access any outside telecommunication networks. It’s all hard-wired.” She forced a smile. “I found that out when I applied for a security position.”

“So, if we take out the phone in the hall,” Sophia correctly surmised, “the guards can’t call for backup.”

“Correct,” Hannah said. “They’ll have to run to get help.”

“Or discharge their weapons,” Tess spoke up to remind them. Sophia had to repeat her words for Hannah, who nodded.

Tess was right. Nothing said
come quickly and bring help
like a few shots fired, even if just into the air. “We’ll only have one chance to do this,” Hannah told them. If they tried to escape and failed, if the guards fired their weapons—even if they didn’t hit and wound any of them—Reed would come running. And he’d pile on additional security guards. They’d be thick in that hallway. Which would hinder, not help, any rescue effort that was coming.

“Uhhn,” Eden said, as what had to be another contraction started.

Again, Sophia grabbed her hands and coached her through it. It didn’t seem quite as intense, but still…

“We should start timing them,” Hannah said.

“I already have.” Sophia looked at her watch. “Those last two were four minutes apart.”

That wasn’t good. Hannah sat back, leaning her head against the wall, woefully aware that their chances of getting to safety had just been further diminished. It was going to be hard enough carrying Tess, but now…

Sophia pushed her hair back from a grimy face that still managed to look angelic. She was clearly thinking along the same lines. “Maybe instead of getting out, we should attempt to barricade ourselves in. If we overpowered the guards and gained possession of even just one weapon…”

It was not a bad idea—provided that the cavalry coming to rescue them was truly a cavalry and not just seven people.

Hope, Hannah reminded herself. Far fewer than seven people could hold off an entire army—in fact, one person with one weapon could do it. Provided they held the barrel of that weapon against the right person’s head…

“Of course, before we overpower the guards,” Sophia, ever pragmatic, pointed out, “we’ve got to get them to open the door.”

Which was when Eden surprised them.

She lifted her head up off the floor. “I can do that,” she said. “One of the guards—Adolf? He’ll open the door for me.”

Dave never asked to be team leader.

He never asked for it—never wanted it.

And yet, here he was. Facing one of the most difficult moments of his life as the team that he was forced to lead waited.

And waited.

For cover of darkness.

For reinforcements.

News of Nash’s death had spread like wildfire among the spec ops community, and everyone—everyone—was coming to Sacramento to help kick the Freedom Network’s ass.

Tom Paoletti was flying back from Hong Kong. Lopez was driving up from Dalton. Dave had gotten a call, too, from Sam Starrett and Troubleshooters XO Alyssa Locke, who were also on their way, ETA approximately ninety minutes. Riding with them was Cosmo Richter, a chief in SEAL Team Sixteen and a longtime friend both of Murphy’s and Nash’s. He’d brought four other SEALs with him, both officers and enlisted. The Troubleshooters’ Florida office—Ric and Annie Alvarado and Davis Jones—had about the same arrival time.

Many of them had never worked with Nash, but it didn’t matter.

One of their own had been taken.

And the Freedom Network was going to pay.

Problem was, with the news spreading so fast, it was neither feasible nor fair to keep it from Dave’s team.

Which meant, as team leader, Dave had to break it to them. He’d sought out Decker’s advice. Do it one on one, one at a time? Or make a group announcement?

Deck just shook his head. “Your call,” he’d said, although he’d agreed that the news could no longer keep.

At which point Dave had made a comment about where was Dr. Heissman when he really needed her—which had made Decker make a noise that was vaguely laughter-like as he’d walked away.

Dave finally just pulled Murphy aside, over to a corner of the tent. “Got a sec?”

“Apparently,” the former Marine said, “I’ve got a lot of them, because try as I might, I can’t mind control the sun to make it set any faster.”

There was no point in delaying the inevitable. “I’ve got bad news,” Dave told his old friend. “Jim Nash died in surgery a few hours ago.”

Murphy didn’t move. He didn’t blink. It was as if he’d stopped breathing. He just stood there—a man who’d already lost so much in his short life, facing yet another loss, this time of an old friend.

“Is Decker going to be all right?” he finally spoke. “I mean, going in there? Obviously, he’s not going to be all right.”

“Are you?” Dave asked.

Murphy met his gaze, and Dave saw sadness and regret but not the maelstrom of pain he’d feared he’d see in the other man’s dark eyes.

“Yeah,” Murph said. “Right now? Yeah, I’m all right. I’m not sure what I’m going to be feeling later, but…”

He turned away, then turned back, but then shook his head as if he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say.

“What?” Dave asked.

“No,” Murphy said, “I was just going to ask if you had a problem with me killing Tim Ebersole while we’re in there, but then I realized Decker’s going in, specifically to find him. Motherfucker’s as good as dead.”

“Oh, shit,” Dave said. But wait. Surely Cassidy at the FBI knew what he was doing when he’d sent Decker after Ebersole.

Murphy turned away again, but again turned back as if he had more to say. He cleared his throat. “When the time comes, if you want…If we all, you know, make it? I’ll help you. Tell Tess. Nash didn’t die through lack of will to live. I can tell her that. Last thing he did was try to connect a cut phone line so he could call for help. So he could go after her. Because he loved her—more than life.”

To his intense mortification, Dave started to cry. For Tess, for Decker, and for himself.
You’ve been a good friend,
Decker had said. But Dave hadn’t been. If he had, he would’ve intervened, months ago—despite what Nash wanted. If Dave had done that, Jim Nash might not be dead.

Dave turned away, and Murphy, thank God, did, too—pretending not to notice that the mighty team leader needed to blow his runny nose.

Adolf-the-guard wanted his blow job.

Eden didn’t put it quite so bluntly, but Hannah and Sophia both understood exactly what she was saying when she tip-toed around the promise she’d made to the young Freedom Network soldier, while they were alone in the back of the van.

Sophia, who’d probably never had sex with anyone she wasn’t madly in love with, actually dared to ask, “You didn’t…already…?”