Code of Honor

Chapter Thirty-seven

At the sound of a vehicle pulling into camp, Jane rose from the chair where she’d been waiting since her father had left to meet with Hooker and pick up the money for the guns. His footsteps were heavy and sure on the porch outside, as solid and formidable as him. The door opened and he strode in on a gust of cold wind, his lieutenants behind him. Jane saluted.

“Captain.” Augustus Graves nodded toward his office, and Jane held the door open wide for him to walk in first. As if by unspoken command, the others stopped at the threshold, and only Jane followed him in. She closed the door behind her and stood at parade rest, waiting.

Graves set down the large black nylon duffel he carried in his right hand, then removed his flight jacket and hung it on a post by the door. Only then did he look at her. He smiled. “We have the money. What’s your timetable for the guns and prisoner exchange?”

“I’ve arranged to have Roberts speak with Washington at zero four hundred. At that time, they will confirm that Jennifer is on a plane to be brought to the rendezvous point at zero six thirty. It should only take half an hour to pick up the weapons. Then I’ll move Roberts and Dunbar down the other side of the mountain.”

“The timetable is tight.”

“Yes, I know,” Jane said, making sure to look him in the eyes so he could see she was confident of her plans. “I wanted narrow windows to prevent Washington mobilizing countermeasures.”

“You’re confident Washington will have Lieutenant Graves here for the exchange?”

“Yes. They seemed very eager to have Roberts returned.”

He snorted. “Yes, I imagine they are, considering the president’s daughter has taken up with her.”

“I made it clear that I would not let them talk to Roberts any sooner, and that once we gave them proof of life, we would expect to make the exchange within three hours. That forces them to follow our timetable.”

He nodded. “Good. That leaves the power with us.”

“Yes, that was my conclusion as well.”

He lifted the duffel and handed it to her. “Hooker assures me there is a great deal more where this came from.”

“Hooker has proved to be a valuable asset.”

“Hooker is a mercenary and he’s playing both sides of the street. He’ll ally himself with whoever pays him the most and wields the most power. Mercenaries like him don’t trust politicians, so his sympathies are likely to lie with us. For the moment.” Graves sat behind his desk and regarded her thoughtfully. “You know, you and Hooker would make a very good team. We should think about it.”

A frisson of fear shot through Jane’s chest, but she was careful not to let it show. She’d met Hooker only briefly when she’d delivered the virus to him in Atlanta. He reminded her a little of her father—large, aggressive, sexual. He’d been attractive in a rough sort of way, but she couldn’t imagine being intimate with him. But then, she rarely considered intimacy at all. She didn’t have time for that kind of entanglement. Nevertheless, she nodded. “It’s something to consider, when we’ve achieved our objectives.”

“There will always be another mission. Never forget that.”

She straightened to attention. “I won’t. Thank you for trusting me with this one.”

“As soon as you’ve given Washington their proof of life, pick up the guns. I want the camp fully armed when you set out for the exchange. I’ve called in another fifty troops. They’ll be here before daybreak.”

“I’ll report back as soon as I have the guns.”

“Good. Keep me apprised.”

“Yes, sir.” Jane saluted, picked up the duffel, and left the building. After stowing the money in a Humvee, she continued over to the infirmary. The guard at the door saluted and stepped aside so she could enter.

Inside, the room was shadowed, the only illumination coming from a small light in the bathroom at the far end. Both captives were still on the cots where they’d been the last time she saw them. As she expected, Roberts was sitting up, awake.

“It’s time for your television appearance.” Jane unholstered her Glock and trained it on Roberts. “Let’s go.”

Roberts silently rose and walked toward her. Her T-shirt and dark trousers showed signs of wear, with patches of grime and a rip just below one knee. Nevertheless, other than her dark hair looking slightly disheveled, she appeared as cool as if she were the one in control. Jane found her arrogant demeanor so aggravating she had the irrational urge to pistol-whip her, just to show her who was in charge. The impulse was so unlike her, she nearly trembled. So much depended on her plan going right—bringing Jennifer home, proving her worth to her father, advancing the cause.

She satisfied herself with pushing the barrel of her gun into Roberts’s back harder than was necessary.

“Let’s go. And be careful what you say to your friends in Washington. Remember, we still have Dunbar, and I don’t need to deliver her undamaged.”

*

The closed-circuit television image was being broadcast to Lucinda’s office and the Oval Office simultaneously. She and the president were the only viewers. At precisely 0600, she connected to the link she’d been directed to use and an image flickered onto the monitor. The image was murky, the background just a gray haze, but Cam was recognizable enough, seated in a plain wooden chair with a bright light trained on her. Other than looking tired, she seemed fine. She stared straight into the camera, as if trying to reach Lucinda with the force of her gaze.

“Director Roberts,” Lucinda said. “Are you well?”

“I’m unharmed,” Cam said, emphasizing the pronoun.

“I want to assure you, we’re doing everything we can to cooperate with your captors.”

“I don’t endorse releasing the prisoner,” Cam said calmly.

“I understand, but these are extenuating circumstances,” Lucinda said, understanding full well Cam would know she was lying. They would never negotiate with terrorists, foreign or domestic, so she hoped Cam would also deduce they had alternate plans under way. “We’ve already agreed to the exchange, and the prisoner is en route. The pilots have orders to continue on once we are assured of your well-being.”

“I’m fine so far. If the weather holds, it should be an interesting day.”

“Yes, well, I imagine you never can tell what might blow up in those parts.”

“Time’s up,” a woman said.

“Tell Blair I’m fine,” Cam said quickly as a shadow passed through the light trained on her.

“I’ll let her know that you’re all right and to expect you home soon,” Lucinda said.

Cam’s gaze burned brighter. “Tell her…tell her I’ll see her soon.”

The video disappeared, and the voice Lucinda recognized as that of the woman she’d talked to earlier came through. “Now you’ve had your proof. You are to deliver the prisoner at zero six thirty. The coordinates are as follows.” Lucinda grabbed her pen and jotted down the coordinates.

“I’m not sure we have enough time—”

“If you’re late, the exchange will be aborted. You’re to bring one vehicle with a single driver. We’ll be thermo-scanning to be sure that you comply. Turn off on the fire road at the location given to you and allow the lieutenant to leave the vehicle. She is to walk north on the road. Once she has crossed to us, we will release the director.”

“And the FBI agent?”

“Yes.”

“How do I know that you’ll release them?”

The woman laughed. “You don’t. But I can assure you if the lieutenant is not delivered to us, the director and the FBI agent will not be seen or heard from again.”

“I understand. If we could have a little more time, we might be able to find common ground—”

“There is no common ground, and your time was up a long time ago. You have no options now.”

“Where can I reach you if there’s some change—”

“There won’t be any changes. This is our final communication.”

The transmission ended, and Lucinda sat for a moment staring at the blank screen. Her anger was a living beast raging to strike back at those who threatened all she held dear. Violence might beget violence, but in this case, they’d left her no choice. They were not open to a peaceful solution, and she didn’t regret her decisions for a single second. Still, she had to control the fury before she could rationally analyze the next course of action. The door to her office opened quietly and Andrew entered. She smiled wearily. “You heard?”

“I did,” he said grimly. “What are our options?”

“I’ll discuss it with command, but I agree with our previous conclusions. Attempting to secure the hostages at the rendezvous point is too dangerous. We can’t bring in enough forces—they’d be seen before we ever arrived. A surprise assault before they leave the camp is still our best chance.”

“Shock and awe.” He shook his head. “Ironic, isn’t it? The war abroad has prepared us to fight here at home. Still, it’s risky. If the militia panic, they might kill the hostages.”

“Yes. But the chaos may also give Cam and Dunbar a chance to escape. We have no choice but to play the odds.”

Andrew sat heavily in the chair across from Lucinda’s desk. “If something happens to Cam, I’ll never forgive myself. And Blair”—he shook his head—“Blair will be beyond consolation.”

“We’re going to get them back, Andrew. We have the best people in the world at our disposal. You have to believe.”

He smiled. “You’ve always told me that. And so far, you’ve always been right.”

“Trust me this time.” Lucinda came around the desk and held out her hand. He took it and stood beside her. She kissed him lightly. “You should get some rest. We’ve still got a little ways to go before the Predators are in position.”

“You don’t have to bear this all yourself, you know,” he said.

“I’d rather you know as little as possible. Go now. I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

He sighed and cupped her cheek. “Sometimes I doubt I’d be here without you.”

“You would. You belong here.”

He left, closing the door quietly behind him. Luce leaned back against her desk, thinking about the next few hours. If they were wrong, if this didn’t work, more than Blair’s heart would break.

*

Quincy pulled over at the last turnoff before the climb into the Bitterroots. While they waited, they all climbed off to stretch. They’d been riding nonstop for close to six hours with only a twenty-minute break to transfer the guns from the Russians into the truck. Quincy lit a cigarette and Loren bummed one. He raised an eyebrow as he flicked his lighter under the end of her cigarette.

“What’s up?” he said.

“Just cold,” Loren said, taking a drag. Thirty minutes until the meeting with the militia. Thirty minutes and then they could all be dead. That prospect didn’t bother her nearly as much as the thought that if they couldn’t infiltrate the camp, she wouldn’t have a chance to find Sky. Finding her was all she could think about.

“Here they come,” Quincy said.

Loren looked back down the road they’d just traveled and saw headlights approaching. Three vehicles—two trucks and a van. They all pulled into the turnaround and parked. Twenty men climbed out, Ramsey in the lead as they trooped over to Quincy and Loren.

“Any problems?” Ramsey said, looking at Loren.

“No. The exchange went fine.” Loren lifted the gate on the truck Jetter had driven, piled to the roof with crates of weapons. “We can offload most of the guns now, stash them in the warehouse, and just take what we need to arm everyone here.”

Ramsey motioned to a couple of the prospects. “You heard her. Move these crates into the truck and the van.”

Once Jetter’s truck was nearly empty, they stacked the remaining crates to form a barrier, leaving ample room behind them for ten men to crowd inside.

“I’ll drive the other one with the rest of the men,” Ramsey said. He looked over the Renegades congregated around. “Nobody shoots until we get to the compound. We need them to escort us inside. Everybody got that?”

A chorus of grunts responded in the affirmative.

“Once inside, you shoot anybody who gets in your way. We’ll teach them that no one double-crosses us.”

Loren dropped her cigarette on the gravel and ground it out. “Let’s roll, then.”

Ramsey nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go get us some justice.”