Top of Tower Fall
A helicopter gunship swung into the mouth of the Devil’s Den gorge, and an FBI sniper leaned out the open door. Jana was seated upright against the base of a pine tree and watched the chopper hover at eye-level to her. The thumping rotor sounds reverberating out of the canyon were so loud they drowned out the roar of the waterfall. The sniper was focused on something at the bottom of the falls and his hand closed into a fist, signaling the pilot to stop and hover.
He raised the rifle and aimed through the scope, but upon seeing the lifeless, blood-soaked body of Waseem Jarrah, torn and contorted across the rocks, he saw no need to fire. The man was dead. He and the other three operators in the gunship raised binoculars to scan the rim of the canyon.
When one made eye contact with Jana, she raised her forearm. It was the most she could do without causing a cascading shockwave of pain to shoot from either the broken ribs or vertebra. The chopper pilot increased his elevation and moved into a position just above the treetops over Jana’s head.
First one operator, then a second, rappelled from the open chopper through the canopy of pine boughs and branches.
The man shouldered his automatic weapon and knelt beside her. “Agent Baker? Is that our suspect at the bottom of the gorge?”
She nodded her ascent.
“Is the device in that rucksack?”
She nodded again. The second HRT operator ripped open the large backpack and began to inspect the contents.
“How badly are you hurt?”
Jana looked at his face, but sunlight pierced through the trees from behind and silhouetted him into a glow. She put a hand on his cheek.
“I can feel your face,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Sorry. Had to check if you were real or an angel.”
A backboard was lowered from the hovering craft.
“Oh, I can assure you I’m real. And certainly not an angel.” He almost laughed. “Going to get this neck brace on you, all right? Then you’re going to take a ride on this stretcher. Let’s get you laid flat. But first, how about we get a little morphine on board? Should take the edge off.”
She felt a sharp sting in her thigh as he squeezed the bolus of morphine into her leg.
The second agent flashed a thumbs-up to him—the nuclear device was not armed, and the agent spoke into his comm set.
Jana’s pain began to abate as a warm haze fell upon her. The men slid her into place on the hard board, then strapped her down.
She looked at the first agent’s cobalt blue eyes. “You sure you’re not an angel?”
“More than positive, ma’am. My mother can assure you of that fact.”
“We don’t have time . . . I left them . . .” She tried to sit up.
“Ma’am? Don’t have time for what? Everything is okay now. The nuclear weapon is safe. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Leave me here. You have to get to Agent MacKerron and Cade Williams. They’re in critical—”
“Already taken care of, ma’am. The other Huey has a medic on board. They’re en route to triage. They’re going to be fine.”
“But how did they—”
“Shhh. Try not to talk now. They said the park ranger drug herself to the top of the hillside so she could radio for help. All with a broken leg.”
The warmth of morphine washed over her and she smiled. “There was a medic on board the other gunship?”
“Yes, ma’am. All HRT teams have a medic.”
“And you? Are you a medic?”
“No, ma’am. We split the team into two groups, half in each chopper. They got the medic.”
“So you don’t really know what you’re doing, do you?” Jana smiled. “If I asked you how I was doing, you’d probably tell me I’m going to be just fine, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I would, because you are.”
“Maybe it’s the morphine talking, but I’d have to agree with you. I’d say everything is going to be just fine.”