image
image
image

Chapter 15

image

James watched Kelton while he listened to the tape of Lissa’s call from Eve, over and over again. He was desperately trying to pick out something that could be code.

“Canines are unsanitary creatures to have around children. I don’t understand why that boy not only has a dog, but is encouraged to clean up after it. Do you people not care about your children?”

Oh, for fuck sake. “Christopher, children need to be exposed to real life, to bacteria, to less than sanitary conditions, or they end up having to live in a bubble.” Time to distract him. “Didn’t you have a dog or anything when you were a kid?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry for that, then. I believe all children should have pets. They learn to care for someone besides themselves, learn that all life matters, and learn tolerance for what they can’t change.” Perhaps Kelton would have ended up a different person if he’d had animals in his life.

And then again, maybe not.

“It must have been hard, relocating to a different country at such a young age.”

“I was eighteen, not twelve,” said Kelton. “Plenty old enough to be starting out on my own. And with a full load plus two extra classes, I had no time to worry about adjusting. I ate, I slept, and I studied. Was able to challenge courses and secure a bachelor’s degree in less than three years. Then I obtained permission for double masters’, and proceeded from there.”

“You have several doctoral degrees.”

“Medicine, psychiatry, psychology, genetic engineering. What exactly is the purpose of this conversation?”

“I’m reminding myself of the person I’m dealing with, and letting Kyle know you’re not to be underestimated. That you’ve only agreed to put away the weapon because if we do something to jeopardize the op, you can manipulate Rollins’s mind and have him go under, where we’ll never find him. Kyle doesn’t know you as well as I do.” James didn’t want to have to kill Kelton, but he wouldn’t hesitate to protect his family.

The only way to make this work would be render him unconscious, but it would have to be instantaneous, so he had no time to link up with Rollins. As it was, James feared Kelton was smart enough to plan for that option and wouldn’t actually push the idea of making a move onto Rollins until the last minute. Maybe send him out for a flyby, then convince him to land. Kelton was nothing if not devious.

There was a sharp knock on the outer wall before it was slowly pushed open. “Just me,” said Angie. “Bringing food.”

As she entered, Kelton said, “You are the wrong one. The other woman is supposed to bring the food.”

“I asked her to trade places so I could check on my family, since they’re being held hostage by a lunatic.”

“Your female offspring has no respect,” he said to James.

“I have plenty of respect for people who haven’t abused my trust.”

“And she has a mouth on her.”

“Angie, we’re all fine, and working well together. Did you service the Steed? Is it ready for takeoff early tomorrow?”

“Yes. And yes.”

Julia had done a fine job of raising their children while he’d been little help. He’d failed completely with Angie. She’d managed to sneak off with a boy and ended up pregnant at the age of fifteen, while on his watch, and then, before the baby was born, he’d been sent on the mission that changed his life. An assignment Rollins was responsible for.

Angie caught his eye, and instead of nodding, used her eyes to make the motion. She was a smart young woman, and keeping her silence now would be taking a toll. But she’d shared her message. Help was on the way and please, Lord, let it be Broughton and not Julia. He was afraid she’d lead with her temper the same way Angie wanted to, and Kelton was too brittle for that. They couldn’t afford to have him snap.

The way things stood, the mission was manageable. The only thing they didn’t yet have was a means to incapacitate Kelton, but James now believed that would arrive tonight.

Angie was fussing with the plates of sandwiches, and napkins, bottles of hot sauce, and he could see Kelton starting to fray around the edges just before he yelled, “Stop it!”

She glanced over, obviously unimpressed. “Stop what?”

“Whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I know you’re worried, Angie, but think of this as a partnership. Christopher can’t get to Rollins without us, and we can’t get Rollins without him. So everyone will just have to play well together.”

She nodded, but her jaw was clenched tight, and he was sorry for that, but didn’t know how to help her relax and work the situation for what it was.

You’d think he’d have learned from dealing with his headstrong wife for so many years. Hadn’t Julia been just this way when she was Angie’s age? He didn’t have to think very hard to come up with an example of how alike they were.

He’d come home from a mission late one night, and hadn’t let her know he was coming. She’d been sitting alone in the moonlit living room when he walked in and scared the bejesus out of her. When she jumped and let out a girlish scream, he made the mistake of laughing at her until she pummeled him, beating his chest, shoulders, and gut with her fists, while tears poured down her face.

Consuelo had charged into the room, hit the light switch, and pointed a loaded seven mm at him. Then Julia laughed, snorting through the tears. She never snorted now, but it had been her thing when she was young and often couldn’t contain her laughter.

They were past those days now. Or were they? Could he still make her laugh so hard she’d start waving her arms around because she couldn’t breathe? He’d have to see about that. And did he still make her mad enough to cry? No. She’d outgrown that. Did anything reduce the family matriarch to tears these days? How sad that he didn’t know. He spent too much time away to know. And dancing, oh, how she’d loved to dance, but other than that one time on the lawn outside their bedroom, it had been years.

She’d been mad at him that night, or maybe just hurt. He’d promised to make it to the Haven Gala, and he’d tried. Put on the monkey suit, as Dhillon called it, drove over there, but couldn’t make himself go through the gates. Couldn’t face the noise. The steady roar of hundreds of voices slightly distorted by alcohol, or excitement, or just by sheer volume. There would be smiling faces, people wanting to shake his hand, pat his back, touch him. He stood in the shadows, cold nearly to the point of shivering, and worked to keep his breathing even.

But couldn’t do it. He went home instead, and waited for her on the patio outside her bedroom. Theirs. With the doors open so she’d know he was there.

He’d peeled off the jacket and vest, the shoes and socks, even the belt. Everything confining. And then brooded about how pathetic she must think him.

He could still see her face. The hope, the resignation, the sadness when she saw him. Her beautiful dress seemed to float around her when she moved, and she’d let her hair down. Probably in the car on the way home. At least that’s what he remembered her doing time and again.

But that night, when she walked through the doorway, backlit from the room behind her, his heart lodged in his throat, and he knew he had to find a way to get back to her. To make her understand he still loved her more than anything in the world, including himself.

She’d held out her hand and he took it, pressed his mouth to her soft skin, and stood facing what love was. That’s when he knew he could come back. And he said the simple words that meant everything. “Dance with me.”

She’d stepped out of her shoes and into his arms, and the only music was the hum in his throat while they swayed together in the moonlight. So much a part of each other he sometimes didn’t know where he ended and she began. Endings and beginnings.

***

image

Julia’s insides were as hollow as the empty plane, her movements easy, careful, yet comfortable, while she guided the craft to a higher altitude and banked slowly to the right. The men had jumped at just one thousand feet, with highly specialized parachutes packed to open very quickly. They’d landed safely, and were already on their way to her family. Nothing left for her to do.

She checked her heading and the onboard computer. Thirty minutes to her destination, a private airstrip in Montana where she’d refuel for the return trip. Not where she wanted to be going. But where duty and responsibility sent her. A younger, more headstrong version of herself would have doubled back, found somewhere closer to where the confrontation with Rollins was set to happen.

But was that actually true? Maybe before she had children, but not after. She’d been the only one they could count on, because James was away more than he was home.

Julia once came unglued when a stranger jokingly called her an army widow because she was ordering building materials, working on an addition to the house, while her husband was deployed. She left the man in no doubt about how she felt about his stupid comment. James was not dead, and he not only came home to his family whenever he could, but she was nothing like the women forced to deal with the death of a spouse, and she didn’t appreciate anyone making light of their situation.

Did she regret the way she’d gone off on the store clerk? Of course, but she’d learned when she was very young that words couldn’t be unsaid. So she’d taken a few days to cool down, put hard thought into her reaction, returned to the store, and explained herself. Then apologized.

That was a turning point for her. When she’d finally been honest with herself about her marriage. She loved her husband, adored him. Their physical relationship was glorious, and the way he made her feel when she was with him was something she couldn’t put into words.

But she resented the time he was away, and that was something she had to fight long and hard to get past. Forcibly smoothing her own rough edges, molding herself into the lady she thought she needed to be. Creating an image others recognized. She was the family matriarch. Mostly.

And now here she was, only two thousand feet above the vast whiteness that was Montana in winter.

Monitoring both the clock and airspeed, she waited one more minute, then switched the radio channel and keyed the mic twice. Was pleased when, in answer, a series of softly glowing spots on the dark ground ahead of her indicated runway lights heating up. She flicked on her landing lights and, in a matter of seconds, the rear wheels touched the pavement. Flaps down and steering with her feet, she carefully lowered the nose to the runway—a black swath in the snow.

She rolled all the way to the end, then turned right onto a taxiway indicated by tiny red lights on sticks about three feet high. This might be a private facility, but it was well set up, and when she came to a stop at the fueling station, a girl in faded blue overalls and a camo ball cap popped into view and waved. Julia shut down and climbed out.

“Hey, I’m Sandy, and you’d be Julia. I’ll take it from here.” She rolled a ladder over so she could reach the fuel cap on the wing.

“Thanks, Sandy.”

“Washroom’s first door inside the hangar if you need it.”

No way would Julia allow herself to be out of sight of the plane. Instead she did a quick walk-around. The dim light on a pole above the fuel tank didn’t allow her to see much, so she ran her hands over the edges of the rudder, flaps, and wings. All the while wondering what was going on at Mountain House. Logan and Broughton were probably in. What had they found?

She shook off the speculation and stamped her feet when the cold started to seep in. “Long flight ahead?” the girl asked when she was finished.

“Not overly. More a precaution to top up now. Appreciate it.”

“No worries.”

Within minutes Julia was back on the runway, pouring on power until she could pull back on the yoke and leave the ground behind. The high, thin cloud cover had cleared, and nose up, she soared into the brilliant carpet of stars.

Back when she was getting her instrument certification, she hadn’t expected to enjoy night flying, but came to appreciate the incredibly peaceful, freeing sensation when it was just her and the stars.

Learning to fly had been her big, bold move. The first thing she’d ever done just for herself. Something she’d dreamed about for as long as she could remember. Consuelo had egged her on, helped her find an instructor willing to train a woman. One without her husband’s permission—the world had been a different place in the mid-seventies.

She had one of their ranch hands teach her how to operate the grader so she could smooth out a landing strip at home and she hand-picked rocks off it for weeks.

The best part of all was tricking James. Told him she’d put in a strip so he wouldn’t have such a long drive when he came home from a mission. Instead he could hire a plane.

Then the first time he’d chartered a ride home, she taxied right up to where he waited. Stepped onto the tarmac.

“Looking for a ride, soldier?” His mouth fell open, and he looked back and forth between her and the Cessna.

“You?”

“Passed my flight test three weeks ago. Over a hundred hours logged, and I’ve done this route a few times now, so we should be safe.”

He grabbed her in a bear hug, then swung her in the air before setting her down and kissing her brainless.

“Get a room!” came a shout from somewhere, and James finally let her go, only to grab her again when she swayed.

“You are the most amazing woman. Nothing you can’t do.” He planted one last, noisy kiss on her mouth. “Come on, show me your flying chops.” He grinned. “God, you’re incredible.”

The flight had been filled with laughter, and as soon as they landed, they made love in the tiny hangar she helped build for the used plane, which she’d bought from a fellow rancher who upgraded to a helicopter.

These days her own family relied more on helos, plus the jets of course, and the smaller fixed wings like the one she was flying tonight were usually reserved for pleasure flights. Not that this one was theirs. Her own much faster plane was waiting for her only a few miles away, and she was anxious to get to it, and back to headquarters. Being out of touch with the op—hell, the family—was so far out of her comfort zone she barely recognized the view. She was used to being in the center. In control. But all the same, she enjoyed flying. It had been a very long time since she’d been in the air alone.

***

image

Broughton left Logan in the tunnel and wound his way through the maze of stairs and halls until he reached one final door. He’d been told this opened to the pantry. He pushed it open a crack, then far enough to slip through. Pantry? One glance around the cavernous room dispelled any preconceived notions. Two walls were lined with glass-fronted freezers filled with foil-wrapped packages, while the other two were made up of floor to ceiling shelves holding jars and cans and other containers. Enough food here to last a fucking year. Good to know.

And time to move on. He crept toward the smell of bacon and found a pretty blond woman in the kitchen. If he hadn’t been told what a cool customer Lissa was, it wouldn’t have occurred to him that she was aware of his presence long before she turned around.

There was no physical jolt, jump, or even a quickly inhaled breath. She did nothing but clamp a hand over her mouth and stare at him, wide-eyed.

“You’d be Lissa. I’m Broughton, one of the good guys,” he said. “HQ’s worried. Wants to know what’s going on.”

“I knew someone was coming, but I didn’t expect a stranger. Kelton’s holding Kyle and James in the war room.”

“Does he come out?”

“None of them have come out. They don’t need to. There’s a bathroom in there, and I take in food.”

“Weapons?”

“Kelton’s got a gun, but it’s in a holster. Shoulder.”

He glanced at the trolley she was obviously planning to load up with breakfast. There were plates, utensils, jam, butter and other stuff already on it. “He lets you take that in? Complete with knives and forks?”

“He’s very confident no one will harm him, because if they do, they won’t get Rollins. They’re leaving for Luna in a few hours.”

And that would work very well. “Where’s Angie?”

“I’m not sure. Probably in the dungeon—that’s the bay...or hangar, I suppose you’d call it, below the landing area.” He’d already been briefed on how it worked, with the aircraft lowered out of sight, and a false floor sliding into place.

“I have to get back to the tunnel to work out a strategy with Logan, and I need you to send Angie down there so we can let her know exactly what we’re going to do.”

“Got it.”

A plan formed as he made his way back.

“Here’s my idea,” he told Logan. “I’ll stow away in the compartment of silence—the place they use to transport animals and babies—because Kelton likely doesn’t even know it exists. I’ll be right with them when they land at Luna, and once Rollins is in a position where he can’t get away, I’ll neutralize Kelton.”

“I could follow with Kyle in his copter,” said Logan.

“Actually—”

“Yeah, it just occurred to me. No way he’d be willing to leave Lissa here alone.”

“Besides that, it’s too damned risky for him to go in there at all. Kyle’s great in the helo, all tricked out with hand controls, but what happens when he’s on the ground? He’ll be defenseless.”

“No way I’ll fit in the COS with you. Plan C? Go up there now, make sure Kelton knows I’m here, and he might take me along rather than leaving me behind to screw things up for him.”

“Or he could leave you here with disabled communications equipment.”

Logan smiled. “He can’t shut me down telepathically. Better for him to keep me close, to intercept and block.”

That made sense as long as Kelton was still in touch with reality.

Logan held up a hand. “Angie’s coming.” The man had wicked perception.

There was a distant sound, then running footsteps. “Hey, guys!” The shouted whisper was quickly followed by the tiny redhead. “Supplies,” she said, and set a paper sack on the floor.

“Back atcha.” Broughton passed her two communications wrist units live-linked to HQ.

“I’ve only got a couple of minutes, so here’s the deal. Kelton’s off his rocker, and I’m as certain as I can be that he intends for James to kill Rollins, and then we’ll all go our happy ways.”

Palms up, she said, “James or Kyle could take Kelton down in a heartbeat, but then they’d lose their chance at Rollins, because Kelton’s been doing some mind bending. He’s orchestrating Rollins’s moves.”

“So they’re going along with him.” Which was the gist of what Lissa had already told him. “We get that.”

“Good. Looks like we’re flying into Luna in a couple of hours.”

“A guesstimate of departure time would be a big help, because I intend to hide in the COS before you load up.”

She pointed at him. “Figures we both had the same idea.”

“Does Kelton know about that spot?”

“I doubt it. You only do because your dogs rode there.” She sent a glance between the two of them. “No way you’ll both fit.”

Logan nodded. “If I show myself, do you think he’d take me along too?”

“Maybe.” She checked her watch. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Just to confirm,” said Broughton. “There’s only the one camera in the helo bay?”

“Yep, over the door. The code to freeze it is one, two, zero, eight. And once you’re inside the Steed, you’re out of camera range, so you can relax, and won’t have to get into the COS until I get there to start the lift to get it up to the exit level. That’s where Kelton and James will board. Gotta go.” She held out a hand to each of them, gripped hard for a second, then took off at a run.

“So your position is handled,” Logan said to Broughton. “Now we need to decide about me.”

Broughton opened the package Angie left and passed a soda and a fat sandwich to Logan, then popped a top for himself before unwrapping what looked like ham and cheese.

“From the sound of Kelton’s mental state, it might be easy to push him over the edge, and then we’d have no clue what we’re dealing with,” said Logan before taking a big bite of his sandwich.

Broughton nodded. “If Kelton sabotages the equipment, Kyle and Lissa have backup, but how long will it take to get it up and running? You have to stay here as possibly the only means of communication with HQ.”

He scratched his scruffy jaw for a second. “Besides that, there’s a possibility—slim, considering his nature, but still—that Kelton might harm Kyle or Lissa to incapacitate them before he leaves. We need you here to get medical attention to them if needed.”

Broughton washed his sandwich down with the rest of his soda. “Just tying Lissa up and taking away Kyle’s wheels could potentially buy Kelton a couple of hours.”

“Yeah,” said Logan. “I stay here, stay hidden, until the Steed lifts off.”

“Good.”

Logan looked Broughton right in the eye. “Are you going to incapacitate Kelton as soon as, or wait until it plays out and Rollins is dead?”

Broughton’s gaze didn’t waver. “The goal is to keep all the Meyers personnel safe.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I know.”

“What about your personal agenda?”

“I don’t have one.”

“You invested a ton of undercover time in trying to get Rollins busted. Years of your life wasted.” Logan didn’t so much as blink. “Hate’s something I pick up easily, and every once in a while, back at the ranch, you let your guard down.”

“Bull. Shit. You’re fishing, and you’re pissing me off.”

“When Alex had the meltdown a few days ago, your hate for Rollins, your visualization of pounding hell out of him before choking him to death, making him gasp for air? I’d call that hate illustrated.”

Fuck. “Not an unusual reaction considering the circumstances, but I have no agenda.”

Logan broke the eye contact. Stuffed his wrappers and empty can back into the paper sack. “Okay. Any ideas what Kelton plans to do, how he’ll achieve his goal?”

“No. Only that it will be a long and painful process. Kelton will want to watch Rollins suffer.”

“I agree, so there’s no expectation of a quick gun battle.”

“Not unless somebody else starts it. My guess is that Rollins will stay on board the copter until his men deem the drop-off location secure, then he’ll be transported by snowmobile directly to his cabin. On Kelton’s orders, James will capture him there, and then the crazy part will kick in, and it’s anyone’s guess what will happen.”