AS DRAKE DROVE to the old car dealership, Jimmy called for backup from the sheriff’s department and filled them in. He never questioned Drake’s actions—that was the great thing about Jimmy, he trusted Drake’s gut almost as much as Drake himself did.
“They’re twenty minutes out on the copter,” he said as he hung up.
“We’re closer than that.” Drake twisted the wheel and headed down an unmarked side street that, in typical Carnegie fashion, seemed to lead right off the edge of a ravine before making an abrupt turn. Streets around here would go from two lanes to a single lane to gravel and back to cobblestone or pavement without warning. It was a maze that few ventured, but the fastest way to get to Noblestown Road from the federal building. Much faster than the main highways the patrol cars would be following.
They’d just turned on to Noblestown when Drake’s phone rang. Jimmy answered for him. “It’s dispatch. They say some kid called in, told them Hart’s at the scrapyard.”
“I knew it. Where is this kid? We need to know what we’re walking in on.”
“Slow down—he’s waiting for us at that Sheetz up ahead.”
Drake hit the brakes while Jimmy listened some more then hung up. “The sheriff’s department is mobilizing.”
“Mobilizing who? SWAT?” Last thing he needed was for a bunch of cowboys to rush in and get Hart killed.
Jimmy glanced at him, lips pressed together. “And the bomb squad.”
<<<>>>
THE KID WAS maybe twelve, scrawny, dark-haired, wearing filthy jeans, and a windbreaker two sizes too large. He sat in a booth of the brightly lit convenience store devouring his second chili-cheese dog with all the trimmings while Drake went over a sketch of the scrapyard’s layout with him.
“So you saw them bury bombs here, here, and here?”
The kid, Vincent was his name, nodded, chili juice running down his chin. He ate like he hadn’t had a decent meal in months.
“And there are motion detectors here and here?”
“They’re probably wired as well,” Jimmy said. “Guy’s got the whole damn place covered. There’s no way to get an assault team in there. And with the wrecks all around it, no sight lines for a sniper.”
Vincent gulped and swallowed. “Cassie climbed the magnet—it’s on a crane. Goes real high. Would that help?”
“If we can get past the guards—you said there were four? We have to assume they all carry detonators as well as guns.” Jimmy scowled at the map as only a former marine could. He shook his head. “Maybe rope down from the copter?”
“What if he has the roof rigged as well?” Drake argued. “That’s what I would do.” He thought about it. “It’s a one-man job. Go in, take out the guards—”
“With what? If they have dead man switches—”
A SUV screeched into the parking lot and came to a stop. Drake glanced out the window. Sheriff’s department. A woman wearing a tactical uniform hopped out and strode into the store. He smiled as he recognized her: Amanda Devlin, the lead bomb squad technician.
“Mandy, just the person we need.”
“My guys are on the way with the disposal unit, but I live nearby, so came ahead. What’s up?”
Drake filled her in. “A full assault is out—we don’t know what kind of manual trigger the bombs have. But I think I can get in there if we have some way to take out the possibility of remote detonation.”
She raised an eyebrow at that. “Not your jurisdiction, so forget that. But come with me. I’ve got your remote detonation problem solved.”
They left the boy in the care of the clerk and went out to her SUV. She opened the rear. “Meet ACE, boys. Our Alleghany County Emergency UAV. Equipped with radio and cell jamming capabilities as well as thermal and infrared cameras and omnidirectional microphones.”
“What are we waiting for?” Drake said.
“You are waiting for me to get the rest of my team, brief them, and take care of bringing the hostages out safely. Go back inside and grab some coffee while I update my guys and the SWAT boys. Don’t worry. This will all be over before you know it.”
Drake glared at her. She was right. It wasn’t his jurisdiction, wasn’t protocol to go in before the team was deployed. The protocol existed to prevent loss of life.
It also wasn’t the woman she loved trapped inside there with a madman, surrounded by bombs—at least five that the kid knew about, who knew how many more?
He spun on his heel and strode past Mandy to his car, Jimmy on his heels.
“Drake,” she shouted. “Damn it! Don’t you—”
Her words were cut out as he slammed the car door and started the engine. Jimmy hopped in the other side and they sped out of the parking lot. “Hope you know what you’re doing,” Jimmy said. “Remember, it’s not just Hart in there. Vincent said there were kids as well.”
“There’s a way in, but it’s a one man job,” Drake argued as they raced down the road. Lights appeared behind them, but Mandy’s Tahoe was no match for Drake’s Mustang.
“If Vincent’s intel is accurate. He’s just a kid, wouldn’t have access to all of their perimeter defenses.”
“I can handle the guys on the ground. You just make sure Mandy gets that drone deployed.”
Drake spotted the turn off for the scrapyard. He cut his lights and slowed down as the Mustang bounced onto the dirt road. He pulled off the road and into a clearing—if he did his job right, there would be plenty of other vehicles needing to use this road later tonight.
He popped the trunk and grabbed his ballistic vest along with the Remington 700 pump action shotgun he stored there.
“Once Mandy jams the radio and cell phones, we won’t be able to talk,” Jimmy reminded him.
“I thought of that,” Drake said, grabbing one last thing from the trunk. A can of fluorescent spray paint.
Mandy’s SUV, its lights out, pulled in behind them.
“That’s my cue.” Drake ran into the trees, heading for the break in the fence Vincent had told them about. Behind him, he heard Mandy and Jimmy arguing, but their voices were low and soon faded into the night.
Now it was up to him.