Honor Bound h-2 Page 24

  She heard the click in her ear and knew that he had switched off. He was doing what he had wanted to do since the beginning. He was baiting the trap, and he was using her people to do it.

  "Grant," Cam ordered sharply, "proceed on my signal only. Do you copy? Grant? Grant!"

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Blair stared at the blank computer screen, her mind miles away. She tried to imagine what it was like for Ellen Grant, walking alone into the darkness to face someone she knew had already killed with impunity. Despite her concern for Grant, in her heart, Blair hoped that Loverboy was waiting. She hoped that tonight would be the end of this nightmare.

  She thought about Cam, watching Grant and trying to protect her. If anything happened to someone else Cam was responsible for, Cam would never forgive herself. It would tear another hole in the fabric of her being and kill another piece of her heart. Blair did not want that to happen, and most of her reasons were selfish. She was afraid that eventually, Cam would close off those parts of herself that bled for the wounds of others. And if that happened, Blair would lose the part of Cam that she needed the most. No one had ever been able to reach through the bars of her invisible prison to touch her the way that Cameron Roberts had. No one else had ever really seen her, not the way Cam did. She needed that, because without it, she was so hopelessly alone.

  She did not know how long the words had been there before she noticed them. She gasped and pushed her chair back as if to escape from the reality of what she was seeing. "Oh my god."

  Instantly, Mac, Felicia Davis, and Lindsey Ryan turned toward her in concern.

  "What is it?" Mac asked urgently.

  Blair's voice shook as she responded, "I'm not sure. Look at what just came up on the screen."

  The other three crowded behind her, peering over her shoulder to see the message.

  Egret. Are you there?

  "Is it him?" Blair asked breathlessly. "Could it be a timed message he sent earlier?"

  Mac looked at Lindsey Ryan, whose face was a study in concentration. She was furiously assessing everything she knew about him, mentally forming and discarding theories, trying to read his distorted mind.

  "Maybe a stand-in?" Mac asked. "Someone helping him?"

  "No, it's him," Ryan said softly. "He'd never let anyone share in this."

  "What should I do?" Blair questioned.

  "If she answers, he'll know she isn't in the amusement park," Mac warned.

  Lindsey stared at the question on the monitor, considering their options and trying to predict the consequences. It was almost impossible for a rational mind to predict the irrational mind of someone like Loverboy. On the other hand, she, more than anyone else, had been trained to do just that, and her opinion was the best information they had to rely on.

  "Lindsey?" Mac asked quietly. "I've got to advise the Commander. It's your call."

  She looked calmly at Blair. "Answer it."

  Hands trembling, Blair typed,Yes

  I always knew you wouldn't come

  "Ask him where he is," Lindsey instructed, her eyes riveted to the screen.

  Blair complied.

  I'm watching them look for me

  "Jesus Christ," Mac cursed. Immediately, he switched to Cam's frequency. "We have communication from the subject," he said sharply. "You are compromised. I repeat - you are compromised."

  Cam didn't hesitate. "Grant, evacuate now. Repeat, evacuate now."

  On Stark's frequency, she ordered, "Institute retrieval. Retrieve your package now."

  Switching yet again, she said, "Doyle. We've been made. He has visual. We are evacuating."

  No one answered. She frantically opened all frequencies. Nothing.

  She stepped to the edge of the platform and dropped to the ground. She landed a few feet from Savard. "Anything?"

  Savard shook her head, her expression grim. "Commander, I don't see her. I'm getting no response on any channel. Com links are all down."

  "God damn it - he's jamming us," Cam snapped angrily. "Let's go get her."

  For an instant their eyes met and then they turned, shoulder to shoulder, and raced through the gates of the decaying amusement park into the darkness beyond. As they passed under the archway, Cam tried once more to reach Grant or Doyle. Her transmissions were met with silence. She looked ahead but all she could see was the blue black of the night sky broken by the silhouettes of the detritus of the abandoned park.

  "Savard," Cam whispered as they rushed forward. "Swing right and cover our flank. If he's here, he's going to go after one of us. Let's not give him too many targets in one place."

  Immediately, Savard melted away into the darkness.

  The refreshment stand was fifty yards in front of her. She would be there in less than 60 seconds. 60 seconds.

  Jesus, where is Grant?

  Cam looked to the high ground, which is where she would have positioned herself if she had wanted to command the battle. In this situation the best vantage point was on top of a building, but the ones still standing in the arcade were in clear view of Doyle's men on the warehouse and they hadn't seen him. Still, out of habit, she scanned the structures with a sightline to the refreshment stand. Nothing.

  Where the fuck is he?

  She was almost there. The night had grown eerily still, yet she couldn't hear anything except her own heart pounding in her throat. She ran, her skin prickling with apprehension. She thought she saw a figure moving in the shadows by the side of the building. She raised her gun, slowing minutely, struggling to see through the shifting shadows.

  There! Coming closer.

  She sighted, her finger depressing the trigger just short of the firing pressure, when another movement far off to her right caught her eye. She jerked her head around in time to see the top car on the Ferris wheel swinging lazily, seemingly suspended in mid-air with only shafts of moonlight to hold it aloft.

  "Savard," she called into the dark, not bothering to lower her voice. She was fully exposed and, at this range, defenseless. If he was going to fire at her there was nothing she could do. At least she could make sure he didn't get away. "He's on the Ferris wheel. Go!"

  Just then, Grant appeared out of the shadows in front of the refreshment stand, calling, "All clear here, Commander."

  Cam's shout to take cover was lost to the night as the building disintegrated in a flash of orange heat and flying debris.

  *****

  Savard was hit from behind by a rushing tornado of hot air that momentarily lifted her off the ground. She tucked her head and dove into a forward shoulder roll, letting the momentum of the blast carry her back onto her feet. Her gun was out and in her hand and, miraculously, she had managed to hold on to it. She refused to think about what had just happened. She couldn't think about Grant and Roberts now. She had only one thought.

  Get him.

  As she approached the Ferris wheel, she saw a thin shadow nimbly descending the exterior frame. She was a hundred yards away, and at that range - in the dark - she wasn't certain she would be able to hit him. If he made it to the ground, he would quickly disappear amidst the jungle of twisted metal and tumbled-down structures. She tried again to notify Doyle and the SWAT team of her location, but there was no response. Communications were still blacked out.

  As she closed the distance, she got a clearer view of the figure that had just reached the ground, and for a split second, she hesitated. He was wearing a uniform. Could he be an advance lookout Doyle hadn't briefed them about? Or one of their own people who had just wandered too far into the perimeter?

  She realized her mistake when he turned and fired, and that second of uncertainty cost her. By the time she registered the muzzle flash, she'd been hit and was already falling, a hot flash of pain spearing her left shoulder.

  God it was much worse than she ever imagined.

  The force spun her around and knocked her flat on her back. For a second she couldn't breathe at all. When she got her air back, she had to swallow a scream.
Then she blanked her mind of everything except the image of him turning and firing. At her.

  The pain receded behind her next reaction - anger. She was furious at him for shooting her, and even more furious at herself for letting him take her by surprise. She rolled to her side and got her feet under her. In the next second she was moving again. Her left arm hung uselessly, but her gun hand still worked. She could see his back as he agilely vaulted a turnstile that had once been part of an admission booth. In another instant, he'd be gone. Her vision was starting to blur and she was running out of time. Her arm was soaked with blood; she could feel it streaming off her fingers onto the ground. She drew down and fired.

  The second blast was even larger than the first. And this time, the shockwave catapulted her into oblivion.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Mac tried furiously to re-establish contact, but no one was answering him. "Commander? Stark?"

  Blair continued to type queries to Loverboy, but there were no further responses.

  "What's happening?" she asked urgently. The three agents looked grim, and the eerie quiet that hung in the air made Blair's blood run cold. She struggled for composure and lost. "What the hell is going on?"

  "All our communication lines are down," Mac said grimly. "Loverboy was probably transmitting from a wireless connection at the rendezvous site. He's there, and he knows that you're not."

  Blair got to her feet, her entire body trembling. "Someone better find outright now what's happening out there, or I'm going myself."

  "Ms. Powell," Lindsey Ryan said quietly, putting her hand on Blair's arm very gently, almost as if she were afraid of startling her, "we'll get word here faster than anywhere else. Give Mac a minute."

  Mac switched to the speakers and attempted to boost the signals. "Stark, come in please. Do you copy? Stark, goddamn it! Do you hear me?"

  A garbled, fitful transmission crackled through. At first, all Blair could make out were fragments of words but what she could hear was enough to take her legs out from under her. She reached blindly for a chair and sat heavily.

  " explosion shots fired agents down"

  "Who?" Blair asked faintly, her eyes moving from one agents' face to the other, trying desperately to read their expressions. "Mac, ask her who."

  "Can you clarify?" Mac asked woodenly, forcing down the quick surge of panic Stark's message produced. He clenched his fists and concentrated, straining for her words.

  More static, then..."Evacuating injuredwill advise."

  Then there was only silence, a silence so final that the three of them - impotent witnesses to a nightmare - stood numbly, not looking at one another. Blair closed her eyes and wondered how it was that she could still feel her heart beating, because something inside of her was dying.

  The icy stillness was shattered by the ringing of the landline. They all stared at it for a second, and then Mac snatched it up, listening intently. Blair watched him anxiously, hoping for some sign that her fears were unfounded, but the grim set of his jaw never changed. He replaced the receiver and stood up.

  "That was Fielding. Ambulances are en route with the injured to the trauma unit at Beth Israel."

  "Who?" Blair asked quietly, prepared, she thought, to hear him say the words. She must be ready, because she was so cold inside. Frozen. "Please -- who?"

  "No ID yet," he answered, looking around for his blazer, "but Stark went with one of the ambulances, so I assume some of them are our people." He pulled his jacket on as he turned toward the door. "I'll call you as soon as I have any information, Ms. Powell."

  Blair moved quickly, blocking his way, an incredulous look on her face. "You can't be serious. I'm going with you."

  Mac stopped short and, although it took effort, said as calmly as he could manage, "I'm afraid you can't do that, Ms. Powell. I don't have a full complement of agents available now, and I don't even know the status of the rest of the team. I can't provide security. I can't"

  "Mac," Blair said tightly, wondering how it was that she hadn't begun screaming, "either you take me or I get a cab. But there's no way I'm not going."

  "He's right, Ms. Powell," Felicia Davis said quietly. "We're short-handed, and we don't even know if the UNSUB has been apprehended. It's not safe. The Commander will have Mac's - uh - head if he takes you out there. It's going to be chaos."

  Blair almost smiled, imagining Cam's expression, and thinking that Davis was probably right - she'd be seriously annoyed. And then she realized she might never see Cam again, might never touch her again, and the cold dark place where she locked away her fears began to bleed. When she spoke, she couldn't quite hide the pain. "I'll make sure Commander Roberts knows it was my doing."

  Perhaps it was the way her voice broke when she said Cam's name, but Lindsey Ryan spoke up, her voice not only calming, but comforting. "Agent Phillips, there are three of us here. We certainly should be adequate security for Ms. Powell's transport to the hospital. Once there, I assume there will be other members of your team available to assist."

  Blair shot her a grateful look.

  Mac relented, because he couldn't physically restrain the First Daughter, and it was plain to him that she was going one way or the other. "All right then, let's do it."

  *****

  At first all she could see through the car window as they approached the hospital were emergency vehicles parked haphazardly in the small lot in front of the entrance. Light bars atop ambulances and police cars sent intersecting beams of red and blue strobing wildly into the night sky, reflecting eerily off the double glass doors of the trauma bay. Hospital personnel and law enforcement officers of all description rushed everywhere. She searched the crowd of State Police, plain-clothes federal agents and SWAT team members in full riot gear, but the one unmistakable form she sought was absent.

  God damn it Cam, don't you dare do this. Don't you leave me now.

  Blair realized that she wasn't breathing. She also realized that there would be reporters there by now. And photographers. By the time Felicia Davis held the door open for her and she stepped from the car, she had composed herself.

  Mac took her right arm and began to draw her through the crowd. Lindsey Ryan was just behind her left shoulder and Felicia Davis cleared the way in front. When they reached the sliding glass doors that marked the trauma entrance, a large harried-looking hospital security guard blocked their way.

  "Sorry. You can't go back there."

  Mac extended his right hand with his badge, but the guard's attention had focused on Blair. His eyes widened slightly, and he said in a slightly awed tone, "Miss Powell! I - uh - I didn't recognize you - sorry - uh - just one minute. I'll get a detachment to escort you."

  "No," Mac said sharply. "That's not necessary." The last thing he wanted was a bunch of star struck guards trying to be helpful and making his job more difficult. "We just need to get back to the triage area. Can you direct us?

  The security officer looked like he was about to protest, but he must have seen something in Mac's face that made him change his mind. "Straight on through, past the automatic doors at the end of the hall," he responded crisply. "It's a mess back there, though."

  Once inside the main admitting region, the noise level dropped, but there were still scores of people clogging the hallway and emergency carts and equipment everywhere. Blair stared at the floor, and realized that the congealing trails of crimson were blood.

  "Oh god," she whispered faintly.

  Lindsey looked at her in concern. "Why don't we find someplace less public to wait while Mac finds the others?"

  "Let's go back to the treatment area and I'll see what I can find out," Mac agreed. He was feeling a little overwhelmed himself. He and Ellen Grant had worked together for several years, even before Egret's detail, and they were friends. He liked Renee Savard. And the Commander - how he felt about her was too complicated to explain. He just knew he didn't want to think abouther going down again. When they stepped through the solid gray doors bearing the s
ign, "Trauma Admitting - Authorized Personnel Only", he was relieved to see a familiar figure in the doorway of one of the treatment cubicles.

  "Stark!" he called.

  Stark stared at them, looking slightly dazed. There was blood on her shirt and hands, and a darkening smear along the angle of her jaw. Before she could respond, she was forced to step aside as a transport team came out of the room behind her, pushing a stretcher bearing a portable respirator, bags of intravenous fluid and blood, and a cardiac defibrillator. Barely recognizable in the midst of the equipment lay Renee Savard.

  Blair caught only a brief glance of Savard's pale, unresponsive face as the medical team rushed her down the hall toward the elevators. Stark started after the stretcher, but a nurse gently took her arm and murmured something to her. A moment later the elevator doors slid closed and Savard was gone. Stark's shoulders slumped and she leaned heavily against the wall. When Mac began to move toward her, Blair stopped him.