Seven Days to Forever (25 page)

Sarah lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t think the major would approve.”

“That’s why I’m asking you, Sarah.”

She looked at Abbie. “Is that what you want?”

Abbie bit her lip and nodded.

“I need to pick up my parabolic mike from the chief, anyway.” Sarah walked to the back of the van and hopped to the floor. “I’ll be back in five minutes, no more.”

Flynn barely waited for Sarah to clear the doors before he stepped inside and closed them. He stared at Abbie, his throat working. Then without a word he pulled her off the seat and into his arms.

She wrapped herself around him as he sank to the floor of the van. With her legs hooked around his hips and her hands splayed on his back, she got as close as their clothes would allow. She kissed his neck, his jaw, the dimple in his chin until he fisted his hands in her hair and slanted his mouth over hers.

His kiss wasn’t like any of the others he’d given her. It was the kiss of a warrior on the brink of battle. Bold, possessive and forceful enough to steal her breath. He used his tongue and his teeth, channeling the tension that hardened his muscles into passion.

Abbie drank it in greedily. She loved him, and so she loved this side of him, too. He was trained in the use of deadly force, yet he was a soldier who wished for peace as he aimed his gun.

But time had been their real enemy from the start. There was nothing either of them could do to fight it. All too soon Sarah’s footsteps sounded outside the van. Flynn broke off the kiss and leaned his forehead against Abbie’s.

Neither of them spoke. There wasn’t anything left to say. This time it really did feel like goodbye.

Chapter 14

I
t was all or nothing. They would get one shot at this, so there was no room for error. Flynn slung his gun over his shoulder and fitted his night-vision goggles in place. The helicopter dipped as the pilot fought a sudden downdraft. Flynn slid to the open doorway, grabbed a support bar and swung his feet to the landing strut. The other men did the same, positioning themselves three on each side of the chopper. Lightning flashed, illuminating the rooftop of the Baltimore butcher shop that was surging upward to meet them.

“Group one in position.” It was Esposito’s voice, coming through the radio. He was leading the squad that had surrounded the LLA base and would cut off escape on the ground. “Group two, what’s your ETA?”

“Ten seconds,” Rafe replied.

The helicopter pulled up in a stomach-wrenching turn and hovered a yard above the rooftop. As one, the men leaped from the landing struts to the roof and linked their arms in a circle to fight the backwash from the rotors. The chopper sprang upward, the noise of its engine blending with a rumble of thunder as it disappeared into the rain.

The storm had made for a bumpy ride, but it had hidden their arrival. Few people would be on the street in weather like this. Just in case, Redinger had asked the Pentagon brass to inform the local authorities there would be an army training op in the area. If some concerned citizen did spot them and called the cops, there probably wouldn’t be any trouble.

Probably. That wasn’t good enough. Damn, that just wasn’t good enough.

Rafe thumped his shoulder and made a quick hand signal to indicate he should move into position.

Flynn took the rope from his belt and jogged to the edge of the roof. All around him the other men were shadows against shadows etched in night-vision green. Less than half a minute later the team was in place and ready to move. Flynn checked his watch. Two minutes to midnight.

“What’s happening at the drop, Major?” Esposito asked.

Redinger’s voice was tight. “Miss Locke is closing in on the monument. Just starting up the rise.”

Flynn secured one end of the rope to the base of a ventilation shaft and pulled on his gloves. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with Abbie. And he would have been, if he’d done what Redinger had trusted him to do and kept his distance.

From a strategic standpoint, the major had made the right decision by assigning Flynn to the assault group. If Flynn had been anywhere near Abbie right now, he would have gotten her out of there even if it meant he would have to throw her over his shoulder kicking and screaming, just as he’d done a week ago. But that would have jeopardized the mission and his teammates’ lives. Success depended on secrecy and split-second timing.

“Watch her, sir,” Flynn said.

“She is in full view of my position,” the major replied.

“She feels very strongly about doing the drop right,” Flynn said. “She may disobey instructions and put herself at risk.”

“I’ll be picking her up as soon as the pack drops, Sergeant.” It was Sarah’s voice. “I’ll give the signal the instant she’s in the van.”

Flynn looped the rope behind his back, lay on his belly at the edge of the roof and inched his way over the lip. Lightning flickered over the window he would crash through when the raid commenced. They would hit hard and fast. He readied his gun, but he knew the element of surprise was their best weapon. “Please, Abbie,” he breathed. “Keep safe.”

Silence hummed in his ear.

“She’s not patched in to this frequency, Flynn,” Sarah said. “But I’m sure she sends you the same sentiment.”

* * *

Despite the men from Eagle Squadron who circled the area, Abbie had never felt more alone in her life. Sheets of rain were obscuring the sidewalk under her feet. Trees flickered ghostly white at the base of the rise in each flash of lightning. The floodlit granite column of the Washington Monument soared into the gloom in front of her, wavering like a mirage.

The receiver in her ear clicked. “Almost there, Abbie,” Sarah said. “You’re doing fine.”

That was why she felt alone, Abbie thought. The team had divided. She couldn’t hear Flynn. For almost a week she hadn’t been apart from him for more than a few minutes. She needed him. She loved him. She couldn’t imagine a future without him. And in two minutes her place in his life would be over.

“Abbie?”

She held the umbrella handle to her chest, fighting to keep it pointed against the wind. “Okay.”

“You’re in position,” Major Redinger said. “Drop the pack.”

She shifted the umbrella from one hand to the other as she shrugged the straps of the backpack over her shoulders. It fell to the ground with a splash. She stopped to look at it. “There’s a puddle here. The money will get wet.”

“It will dry,” the major said. “Turn and retrace your steps.”

She glanced around. Apart from the swaying trees, nothing was moving. Under other circumstances she might have been nervous about being out here on her own at this hour, but the storm was keeping even the muggers indoors. What about the LLA? Where were they? What if there was some bystander near here, after all, and they picked up this pack before the LLA could reach it?

“Miss Locke!”

The major’s voice was more like a bark. Abbie jumped and started walking.

Headlights winked on. “I’m driving along the pedestrian walkway to meet you, Abbie,” Sarah said. “You should see my lights on your right.”

“Yes, I see you. Are the LLA coming yet?”

“That doesn’t concern you, Abbie,” the major said. “Just keep moving.”

It could have been because she was wet and scared and alone, or it could have been because the major was the one who had sent Flynn away. Whatever the reason, she felt her temper stir. “I don’t want to leave it to chance this time. If you don’t answer, I’ll go back and see for myself that they get the money,
sir.
”

There was a brief silence. When Redinger’s voice came through her ear piece, it could have cut glass. “A black sedan has crashed through the barriers at the parking area and is cutting across the Mall to your left at approximately thirty miles an hour. The LLA don’t appear to be leaving it to chance this time, either. Now I suggest you pick up your pace so we can get on with our job.”

She glanced to her left. She hadn’t heard anything because of the storm, but she could see headlights tunneling through the rain and the bushes on the far side of the Reflecting Pool. She tossed her umbrella aside and sprinted for Sarah’s van.

Sarah flung open the passenger door. The instant Abbie climbed inside, Sarah reached behind her to flip a toggle on her radio equipment. “I have her,” she announced. She spun the wheel and headed away from the monument. “Green light. The raid is a go.”

Abbie crawled between the seats to sit at the console behind Sarah. “What button do I push?” she asked. “I want to hear everything.”

Sarah slowed as she reached the cover of some trees. She engaged the brake and let the engine idle as she turned back to the communication console. “The frequency is already set. All you need to do is switch it to the speaker.” She pointed. “That’s the square button on the lower right.”

Voices flooded the van. Abbie struggled to take in the terse reports. The other teams moved in on their targets. They met no resistance as they hit the three rooming houses. The base was different. Esposito reported gunfire. The team’s weapons were fitted with sound suppressors—any gunfire would have to be from the LLA.

“The ransom has been picked up,” the major said. “Keep your distance, people, until we can determine the location of the hostage.”

Abbie moved to the rear of the van. Through the rain-streaked window in the door she could see twin spots of light at the base of the monument. A black sedan was parked where she’d dropped the backpack.

Rafe’s voice suddenly came through the speaker. “Operation successful. Base is secured.”

“Any casualties?” the major asked.

“Negative. We found their files. Stand by.”

Abbie knelt on the floor and dropped her forehead against the back door, whispering a prayer of thanks. No casualties. Flynn was unhurt. The men were going through the LLA files. They would find Matteo. Thank God, thank God.

“The water must have shorted the electronics in the pack,” Sarah said. “We’re not getting any audio.” She turned the van around. “I need to get the directional mike on that car and hear what’s going on. I wouldn’t have expected the LLA to remain here once they had the money.”

Abbie returned to the front of the van and slid into the passenger seat. She braced her hands on the dashboard, peering through the windshield as Sarah nosed the vehicle forward. The black sedan hadn’t moved.

“I found what looks like a press release,” Rafe said. “It’s in English, spouting off a bunch of anticapitalist rhetoric. Sir, this doesn’t make sense.”

“Report, Sergeant,” Redinger said.

“The LLA are claiming responsibility for the murder of Matteo Vilyas at the Air and Space Museum.”

“Say again.”

Rafe repeated his statement and added, “It’s dated last Thursday.”

“Here’s another one.” It was Flynn’s voice this time. “Dated Sunday. Claiming responsibility for the Vilyas boy’s death at the Lincoln Memorial.”

Abbie was so relieved to hear Flynn’s voice, it took her a moment to grasp what he was saying. The LLA had prepared press releases. They had planned to kill Matteo in public at the site of the ransom drops. On Thursday. And again on Sunday.

Why hadn’t they done it?

Why? Because she had messed up the drop both times.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, her heart tightening. She focused on the lights from the black car. It still wasn’t moving. This time the ransom had been delivered successfully. She hadn’t messed it up. That meant this time…“Oh, my God! Matti has to be here. He’s
here!
And they’re going to kill him!”

“Call down the chopper!” Flynn said. “We’ll meet it on the roof.”

“All units, move in!” the major ordered. “Contain the black sedan.”

Sarah slammed the van into gear, carving grooves in the grass as she steered back toward the glowing obelisk. She pulled a pistol from her waistband and lowered her window. “Abbie, get down on the floor!”

Abbie stayed where she was, her fingers cramping on the dashboard. The parabolic microphone Sarah had placed beside her was picking up voices. Foreign voices. Men’s voices. But in the background, as faint as the whisper of the constellations behind the clouds, she heard a child’s sob.

“I can confirm the hostage is in the sedan,” Sarah shouted. “Hold your fire!”

“Shoot to disable the vehicle,” the major countered. “Do not permit them to escape.”

The monument loomed closer. The headlights of the black car glowed through the rain. More headlights appeared, converging on the rise from all directions. The view kept appearing and disappearing as the wipers cleared the windshield. One second the car was there, the next it was gone.

“The LLA are on the move,” Redinger said. “They’re heading straight for you, Captain.”

Approaching lights speared through the van’s windshield, turning it to molten white. There was a sharp crack. Sarah cried out and the van swerved. The white became a web of crystal shards.

“Captain Fox?” Redinger called.

“I’ve been hit, sir.”

The scene became another one of those slow-motion nightmares. Abbie looked at the cracked windshield, then at the hole in Sarah’s jacket. It was a bullet hole. Sarah had been shot. And if the LLA got past them, they were going to escape with Matteo.

Abbie didn’t have time for the terror that screamed inside her. She crawled over Sarah, grabbed the wheel and jammed the accelerator to the floor. She might not know how to fire a gun, but she knew how to drive.

She aimed at the black sedan. The van flew over a bump, hit the ground hard and skidded sideways directly into the path of the oncoming vehicle.

The impact spun the van around and knocked the doors open, propelling Abbie through the air. She curled herself into a ball, skidding across the wet grass as she landed. Pain knifed through her wrist. She lifted her head.

And stared straight into the barrel of a gun.

* * *

“What the hell is going on down there?” Flynn yelled. “Goddamn it! Where the hell is she?”

“Miss Locke is in the black sedan with the LLA,” Redinger said. He made no mention of Flynn’s profanity. He was wise enough to know when a man had been pushed to his limit. “It was disabled by the crash. It can’t move.”