Manhunt in the Wild West (14 page)

Chelsea had to suppress a shiver at the venom in those last two words.

“How did you find us?” Seth asked. He hadn’t reholstered his weapon. None of them had.

Jane jerked her chin back in the direction of her vehicle. “I had some equipment stashed for a rainy day, enough to monitor the local chatter. When I heard that Fax had turned up at the Bear Claw PD, I headed into town to see what I could do, but you’d gotten there ahead of me. When Muhammad tore off in one direction and you guys headed up here, I went with my gut and followed you.” Her eyes went cool and slid in Chelsea’s direction. “I hope I won’t regret my choice.”

Irritation prickled through Chelsea, but she didn’t say anything. This was Fax’s world, not hers. It was his call.

“What about the others?” Fax asked quietly.

Jane shook her head. “We were running an op a few weeks ago and it went very bad. At first it seemed unrelated, but now I have to assume that the bastard who’s behind this set them up, too.” She paused. “It’s just the two of us now.”

Chelsea didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but Fax avoided meeting her eyes as he digested the new information.

After a moment he nodded. “We were just getting ready to pull together a plan.” Without asking the others, he sketched out what they knew, acting as though there was no question whatsoever that she could be included.

Logically, it made sense, Chelsea knew. But that didn’t stop the situation from putting her on edge. She didn’t like the intrusion, didn’t like the woman, especially when Jane said in a superior tone, “Of course, you realize he’s targeting the stadium.”

Fax nodded. “We know.”

But that was another thing Chelsea had spent a good amount of time thinking about during her imprisonment. “Maybe not.”

That got their attention. Fax frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember those schematics you told me about? The ones you saw in the cabin? You said yourself they didn’t look anything like the stadium or the other buildings at the ski resort. Well, I was thinking about it today, and I’m pretty sure what you described could correspond to the structures the old mining company used to cap off the played-out mines. The ski resort has reinforced them over the years and has been using them to store stuff they need out on the slopes.” She paused for effect. “As of two weeks ago, the huts were stocked with equipment the engineers said the resort might need if we have another bad rainstorm and there are more landslides. That includes explosives.”

She’d already discussed the theory with her friends; Cassie had actually been the one to mention the explosives. They had all agreed that Fax’s description of the schematics fit with the huts. Given that the engineers were in the process of figuring out how to stabilize the slopes, which had become badly eroded in places, it seemed reasonable to suspect that al-Jihad might not be targeting the stadium itself, but rather the mountainside directly above it.

But Jane barely gave the theory a three-count before she shook her head. “No. He’s targeting the stadium directly.”

She turned away from Chelsea, dismissing her.

“Fax?” Chelsea said, looking right at him, willing him to back her up.

Their eyes locked. Then he looked at Jane. “The schematics I saw could be the huts she’s talking about.”

It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement.

“We go with the evidence, not a ‘could be,’” Jane said curtly.

“We haven’t seen your evidence,” Seth said levelly, coming up so he was standing shoulder to shoulder with Chelsea. The others murmured agreement and followed suit, so it was six against two.

The numbers didn’t seem to bother Jane, though. She simply sniffed. “We’re going after al-Jihad and his cell members at the stadium, end of discussion. Join us or don’t join us, your call. But I’m warning all of you right now that if you even breathe a word of warning to anyone regarding an attack on the stadium, I’ll personally see to it that you’re held under the USA PATRIOT Act for as long as possible, without an arraignment or trial.”

The threat hung in the air, a nasty, unfriendly thing.

Chelsea felt the heat of a flush climb her neck and touch her cheeks. She was furious with Fax for his stillness, his lack of support, his instant switch of allegiance the moment his old flame was back in the picture.

Damn him.

He looked at her now, not to make amends, but to say, “So, what’s it going to be?”

She jerked her chin in the air. “We’ll discuss it and get back to you.”

Then, before she embarrassed the hell out of herself by crying—or screaming—in front of Fax’s gorgeous, totally in-control boss, she stalked out of the room with her friends at her back.

F
AX WATCHED THEM GO
and tried to tell himself he was making the right call. Somehow, though, right and wrong had gotten mixed up inside his head, blurring together until things that might’ve seemed very clear-cut to him before were all jammed together in an indecipherable mess.

He was seriously reeling. Within the space of three hours he’d gone from being a prisoner, to almost getting killed, escaping again, and now to being—what?

Jane’s reappearance couldn’t have been timed better, but maybe that was what rang faintly false.

Why and how had she shown up now? he wondered, and felt seriously disloyal for even thinking the question. Jane had saved him. She’d taught him. She was the one person he knew he could trust.

But at the same time, he didn’t like the look her arrival had put in Chelsea’s eyes—a mix of accusation and hurt that made him want to go to her and explain. But explain what? He owed Jane his allegiance. Surely she could understand that.

Caught in his own head, Fax waited while Jane grabbed a slice of pepperoni and started wolfing it, as though she hadn’t eaten in the more than seventy-two hours she’d been out of the loop.

Fax said, “You mentioned having some equipment with you?”

“I’ve got a couple of portable surveillance units in the car,” she answered. “Some weapons, a couple of laptops and a decryptor that’s only working about half the time.” She paused, shrugging. “It’s not nearly what we’re used to working with, but we can make do.”

She dug in to a second piece of pizza, apparently too hungry to worry about the grease on her chin when she was normally fastidious about her appearance. That was consistent with her explanation for the past few days, as was her bedraggled appearance.

And why was he even questioning it? He’d been hoping against hope that Jane would reappear and give him the bona fides he was lacking without her, the leadership she was known for. Hell, he’d wanted to see her for her own sake, and because she was one of the few constants over the past few years of his life. He should be relieved and excited, not wary.

Maybe Chelsea was right. He’d been undercover so long he’d forgotten what it meant to have friends.

“It’s good to see you, Jane,” he said, and meant it.

“Same goes.” They shared a look and he felt something loosen in his chest, a feeling of homecoming for a man with no home.

She understood him, knew how he thought because she thought the same way. He wasn’t alone anymore.

But he hadn’t been alone before, had he? He’d had Chelsea at his back.

Without her, the room felt empty.

“The stadium is the logical target, but al-Jihad has to know we’ll figure that out,” Fax said carefully. “What if he’s doing what Chelsea suggested? Bringing the mountain down on the stadium could have even more of an effect than bombing it.”

But Jane didn’t even hesitate before she shook her head. “No, he’s going to hit the stadium directly and personally. He wants to prove he can do it despite the added security the PD has put in place since his escape.”

“Personally?” Fax said, surprised. “As in, he’s going to be on scene?” Men like al-Jihad rarely got their hands dirty on the day-to-day workings of terror. Typically, they preferred to stay above it all and orchestrate.

“This time, yes. He’s making a point.” She paused, looking at him as though trying to figure out how much to tell him. Finally she said, “I think he’s trying to set up a larger group, incorporating half a dozen or so of the biggest names in the anti-American theater. This is his calling card, his show of strength.”

Fax cursed bitterly. “It’s part of a recruiting campaign.”

She nodded. “That’s what we got from the chatter we were picking up right before I was taken out.” She spread her hands. “Since then I’ve been monitoring when I can, but I don’t have anything new to add.”

He took a deep breath, sorting through the possibilities. “Is there someone on the inside you can trust? Someone you can get word to who’ll give us more manpower and a sanction?”

She shook her head, eyes going sad. “Three days ago I would’ve said yes. But I’m pretty sure the one man in the organization that I would’ve gone to was responsible for my abduction, and for taking out the rest of the team after the fact. It had to have been him—he was the only one who knew exactly where the team was and the sign-countersigns they were using.”

“I’m sorry,” Fax said, knowing that she might not show it, but the betrayal had to cut deep.

She shook her head. “It’s the business.” And the thing was, she looked mad, but not hurt. As he would’ve been under the same circumstances a few months earlier.

“Do you know what form the attack is going to take?” he asked, forcing himself on task.

“Not precisely, but I’ve got a strategy mapped out.” She sketched out how they could get in close to the stadium, and use one of the portable surveillance units to scan the airways and digital satellite data streams, searching for key words and flagged voices. That way, they’d be able to identify phone or radio traffic between the on-site terrorists, including al-Jihad, and his big conspirators.

Fax frowned. “Are you sure they’ll be in contact with one another? Seems like needless exposure to me.”

“It’s all part of this big conglomerate al-Jihad is trying to set up. Trust me, the intel is solid.”

And, really, that was all he needed to know. If Jane said this was the best plan, then it was the best plan, hands down.

They spent maybe another fifteen minutes discussing the details, and then wound down. By that point, Fax was sitting in the single chair with his feet up on the desk, while Jane was propped up against the headboard of the king-size bed, working on her second bottle of water.

When their discussion had trailed off to silence, she took a long pull of water, then exhaled. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to ask. Is the woman going to be a problem?”

He didn’t ask how or what she knew. He also didn’t automatically say,
No, of course not.
Instead, he lifted a shoulder, and said, “I’m trying very hard not to let her be a distraction.”

Jane arched an eyebrow. “Trying? As in, not succeeding?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Interesting.” She looked at him long and hard, and maybe her smile went a little sad around the edges. “That’s not a word you ever used to describe us, I’m betting.”

“There wasn’t really an ‘us,’ though, was there?”

“No. Not really. Which doesn’t answer my original question.”

“I know.” He stood, draining his soda and hitting a three-pointer in the bathroom wastebasket. “You sleeping here?”

She looked around and wrinkled her nose, then stood and joined him near the door. “I’ll smell like pizza if I do. I’ll take something farther down.”

They parted out in front of the motel; she headed for her car and retrieved a laptop, then walked to a room at the far end of the row.

Fax stood where he was, hesitating. He wanted to talk to Chelsea, but also wanted to talk to Varitek and the others, to apologize, maybe, or see if they could find a compromise between the two groups.

He appreciated Jane’s confidence, but knew her plan would benefit from additional bodies.

Jane stopped and turned near the end of the row, her body cloaked in shadows. Her voice was quiet when she said, “Problem?”

What she really meant, he knew, was
Make your choice.
He couldn’t straddle the line between the two groups and be an effective agent. He needed to be clear on his priorities, and on the chain of command.

He shook his head. “No problem.”

She held his eyes for a long moment before nodding. “Good to hear.” Then she turned and went into her room, not looking back.

A year ago—heck, even a couple of weeks ago—he might have followed.

Now he turned the other way and headed for the woods, needing to walk off the frustration that rode him, digging greedy claws beneath his skin and warning him that what he wanted wasn’t in Jane’s room.

He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t know what drew him onward along a narrow hiking trail leading away from the motel. Using the moon to light his way, he followed the trail.

Within a short distance, the track opened up to a picnic area, a wide stone shelf that dropped away to nothing on the far side, creating a vista that was no doubt perfect for pictures and barbecues during the day. At night, though, in the moonlit darkness, it was perfect for privacy.