Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) (40 page)

“Skye,” Sebastian said, from the front cabin of the jet. “Spring will be here in fifteen minutes.” His gaze was reassuring, but something had happened after they had sex. Instead of feeling like they’d gotten closer, he’d become more distant. It happened right after he almost kissed her. Almost, but didn’t.

Then she’d said McCollum’s name, and he’d become all business.

Skye nodded, smoothed her hair, and tried to collect herself. She didn’t want Spring to sense anything other than calmness. Raven One had landed ten minutes earlier. She’d stayed in the rear cabin, but when the wheels touched the ground, Sebastian had moved to the forward cabin. He’d left open the door that separated the two. Through it, she saw him talking on his phone, to his agents, and to the pilots, who had opened the door to the cockpit. One was in the main cabin, but the other stayed in his seat, clipboard in hand, checking controls. Sebastian seemed comfortable, the center of attention, having simultaneous and never-ending conversations.

Through the window she could see the jet had taxied into the Black Raven hangar. She counted four agents, standing at attention at the large entry doors. Beyond the huge doors, which remained open, the day had turned gray. A sleek black helicopter sat on the far side of the hangar, about fifty yards from the jet. Four men worked in an area with desks and computers.

She’d given up on wishing that they’d open the door to the jet, but she still wanted out. She braced herself for the awkward moment when the four men who made up the security team stared at her, but when she walked into the forward cabin, only one gave her a passing glance. They might have wondered what she and Sebastian had done behind that closed door, they might have even heard exactly what was happening, as it happened, but if they did, they gave no indication. The only eyes that held hers were Sebastian’s, and even though he was staring at her, he was focused more on his conversations than her.

Feeling like a child who was being a nuisance—and not liking the feeling one bit—she placed her hand on his arm for attention and said, “Can I step outside the jet?”

His eyes were unreadable as he gave her a slight headshake. “Best if you don’t.”

“Please.”

A flash of concern? Maybe. Or was it irritation? No. The irritation seemed to be gone, replaced with…something else. Something far gentler. Certainly she saw understanding there, because he had the knowledge that she hated confined spaces. “Okay, go stretch your legs for a few minutes. You’ve got to stay in the hangar, though. Okay?”

“Yes.”

He glanced at his agents. His nod of permission was almost imperceptible, but as his chin dipped, the four agents stood. Their fast action proved that while it looked like they weren’t paying attention to her, to Sebastian, to their soft-spoken words, and to the invisible undercurrents of their interaction, they obviously were.

“Give them a minute.”

The door opened. A gust of deliciously cold, fresh air blew through the jet. She shrugged into the leather jacket, zipping it as she waited for the signal that it was safe for her to step out of the plane. The precautions seemed over the top-theatrical to her, and she almost told Sebastian so. After all, they were in a guarded hangar.

As she opened her mouth with a wisecrack, his eyes rested on hers. He was in work-mode, talking to Ragno, and the depth of worry she saw in his eyes was infectious. The wisecrack faded from her mind. He said, “Stay close to me.”

Once down the stairs, the team allowed her to step a few feet from the jet, then stopped, becoming a human wall surrounding her and Sebastian. This was as good as it was going to get, and it was heavenly. Ice-cold wind blew her hair loose and made her cheeks tingle. Cold moisture enveloped her. She pulled the leather jacket closer as she inhaled the fresh air, saw that Sebastian’s blue eyes were on her, and said, “Thank you.”

His nod was accompanied by the faintest hint of a smile, which disappeared as soon as it formed. He pressed a finger to his ear, and said, “Repeat that.”

He was so close to her that she could feel his body tense. He stood even straighter than usual. His uncharacteristic stillness lasted only a second, but it was accompanied by such a serious look in his eyes that her heart raced. He turned his head slightly to the right, looking up, to the open doorway of the jet. Gridiron focus was on the pilot who stood at the top of the ladder, looking down at them.

Moving in unison, all of the men took a step closer to the ladder. One bumped into her, because she was the only one who hadn’t gotten a signal to get in the jet. She looked around the terminal, wondering what was prompting the urgency. Sebastian’s eyes were grim and his jaw was clenched. “Activate the chopper that is here,” Sebastian said. “Now. Skye. Get in the jet.”

“What’s wrong?”

He bent, dipped his shoulder, lifted her over it, and climbed the boarding ladder with her on top of his shoulder. His fast move stunned the breath out of her body. When he bent again to deposit her inside the jet, she stood where he placed her, about a foot in the doorway. She gasped for air, still surprised by Sebastian’s quick move. He stepped past her, into the cockpit, bending on one knee and crowding into the middle of the two pilots whose eyes were riveted on the radar screen.

“Ragno,” Sebastian said, “Activate the cameras on the chopper that is carrying Spring. Call that chopper Target A. Feed the camera feed here.”

He paused.

“Disabled? Impossible. It was fucking-well designed for no overrides.”

Skye’s heart raced as she watched Sebastian. “No,” she said, fighting through the confusion, grasping only the fact that Target A was the helicopter carrying Spring and something had gone terribly wrong with it. “No,” she whispered, but no one was listening.

One of the agents who had climbed into the jet ahead of them caught her attention by putting his face in front of hers. “Ms. Barrows, you need to step away from the doorway.”

She barely registered that he was talking to her, much less the import of his words. He gripped her forearm, and pulled her further into the jet, as another stood in the open doorway. “Sit,” the agent said, “Stay away from the windows.”

She yanked his hand off of her. “Tell me what’s going on. Sebastian?”

He ignored her. His back was to her, and his eyes were trained on the jet’s radar screen. Deep brown, unreadable eyes of one of the agents glanced into hers, but only for a second. He blocked her view of the cockpit and Sebastian. Without an answer, the agent turned away from her, bent to look through the window. Over his shoulder said, in the direction of Sebastian, he said, “Pilots are at the chopper.”

One of the jet pilots said, “Target A deviated off path three minutes ago. Now headed southeast.”

The other pilot said, “We lost radio contact at deviation. No answer.”

“Check with tower,” Sebastian said.

“Tower’s trying. No reply. Target A is still moving. Southeast. Wait,” the pilot said, “They’re slowing.”

“Map Target A’s path on land, focusing on directions from Last Resort.” Sebastian snapped. “Radio it to the helicopter pilots as you tell me. Activate vehicles from Last Resort-”

“Based on present position, I estimate Target A is a thirty minute drive from Last Resort. Getting longer.”

“Mobilize vehicles now,” Sebastian said.

“Sebastian,” she said, her voice breaking. “Please don’t let anything happen to her. She’s all I have.” Her heart pounded and she could barely breathe.
No.

Not Spring.

Oh, dear God. They couldn’t have Spring. The agent moved away. She stood. Sebastian gave her a passing glance, barely meeting her eyes. His attention was focused on the helicopter, which was being driven to the entrance of the hangar.

“Ms. Barrows,” one of the agents said, “please sit.”

Not going to happen
. She had no intention of sitting, had no intention of listening to the two agents who stood at her side. She needed an answer, and she needed it now.

Sebastian stood only a few feet from her, but the distance could have been an ocean, because the agents seemed hell bent on keeping her away from him. One of the agents grabbed her wrist. She clawed at his hand. “Let me go.” She broke free, closed the distance between them, and, just as Sebastian started down the steps, “Take me with you. Please.”

He glanced into her eyes with a look of steady, calm resolve. “I’ll bring her to you. I promise. But I can’t protect both of you in this situation. Stay put where I know you’ll be safe. I promise I’ll bring Spring back. I,” he paused, gripped her shoulders, held her steady, and said, “promise.”

She gripped the hands that braced her shoulders. ”I’ve got to be with her.”

“Too dangerous.” As he held her gaze, she detected something more than the calm, stoic face he presented to the world. For a fleeting second, his eyes delivered a message of pain, frustration, and misery that matched her feelings. The second was gone and so was the window into his true thoughts. He gently removed his hands from her shoulders, held onto her hands for a second longer, and over her shoulder, said, “Restrain her if necessary.”

One of the agents who remained with her enclosed his arms around her waist, anchoring her inside the jet. She clawed at the beefy arms that held her and kicked at his legs. He adjusted position, so that his arms encircled her arms and she couldn’t fight him.

“Let me go,” she said, as Sebastian took the steps at a run. Two pilots were in the helicopter, two agents were waiting outside of it, and two of the agents who had been with them all day ran alongside Sebastian. They jumped in, and it rolled outside the hangar.

The agent who held her captive pulled her back into the jet and waited until the door was shut before letting her go. “I’m sorry, Ms. Barrows. It’s for your own safety.”

“I’m not worried about me.”

Pained brown eyes gave her a solid glance. “I know that, ma’am.”

“I want my sister,” she said, “I need Spring. Oh, God. She’s going to be so afraid. You don’t understand. She’s special. She can’t be taken. They can’t have her,” she choked on the words. “Please,” she gripped the man’s arms, just as she had gripped Sebastian’s. “Please. Let me go. Let me out of here. I’ve got to get to her. She’s going to be terrified, even with Sebastian there. When he gets to her, she’ll need me. Please.”

He freed her arms and guided her to a seat. She didn’t want to sit, but strong hands somehow managed to make her body do so. Long minutes passed, when she could only fight to breathe. The two agents knelt in the aisle. The one who hadn’t been in charge of restraining her offered her a cold bottle of water. She shook her head. He handed her a cold compress, which she took but didn’t understand why he thought she needed it. She could hold herself together. Spring needed her to be calm. Strong. She needed to figure out a way to get to her.

“I’ve got to be there when Sebastian gets to her. Please. Take me there. Can’t we get in a car? Drive me there.”

One of the agents cupped his hand to his ear.

“What?” she asked, knowing that they were listening to updates that they weren’t bothering to repeat. “Tell me.”

Only silence and pained expressions greeted her.

“Please,” she whispered, suddenly understanding that they were mic’d to Sebastian, knowing that Sebastian needed to think and didn’t need to be distracted by her. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

More silence.

Finally, she drew her legs up and placed her head on her knees, resigned to the reality that these men had no intention of letting her go. At one point, she looked up, and was met with the concerned brown eyes of the agent who had restrained her. “Please,” she whispered, “Take me there.”

“Ms. Barrows, we can’t take you there,” he said. The man appeared calm, his Black Raven-style stoicism intact, but his eyes reflected compassion, worry, and unease.

He cupped his hand to his ear. The other agent did the same. The pilots stepped out of the cockpit. The men exchanged a brief look, and suddenly they were focusing on her, their expressions uniformly calm and controlled, but with an underlying gravity that told her that the unimaginable had happened. With their grim expressions, words became unnecessary. The four men exchanged a long glance, as though silently nominating who would be the one to confirm her suspicion.

“They took her,” she whispered. She gripped the armrests, because the jet suddenly seemed to be lurching and spinning, when it wasn’t moving at all. “Didn’t they?”

Her vision spun. Unable to focus on any one thing or person that was still, their faces became a hideous blur of serious eyes and grim, unsmiling mouths. She stood, holding onto the wall for support. Standing made the spinning stop. She was marginally better.

Hold it together. Hold. It. Together.

Ten minutes was enough time to make Sebastian realize that the heart of steel he’d so carefully cultivated wasn’t impenetrable. The thought that these bastards had gotten to Spring pierced him with razor sharp edges that ripped open his chest, cut through his bone and flesh, and left a raw hole that served to remind him that something integral to human life was missing.

This depth of pain couldn’t be blamed on his head injury. Nope. He was in nightmare world. He’d built one hell of a life escaping from it, but now he was living it. Finding Richard Barrows and returning him to federal custody was work. It was important work, and he had a hell of a lot riding on it, but it was simply a task to complete.

Finding Spring, retrieving her unharmed, and placing her in Skye’s arms? As necessary to his being as his next breath of air. He’d succeed, or he’d die trying.

“I have a visual on Target A,” the pilot on Sebastian’s left said, “ten o’clock.”

On one knee between the two pilots, Sebastian looked through the wrap-around windshield and eyed the grounded helicopter, a custom-outfitted Bell 525, as they turned and descended towards it. Radar had revealed that it had landed five minutes earlier. He was mic’d to the pilots, to Ragno, to the six-man team that was in the helicopter with him, to the agents on the jet who were with Skye, to the vehicles that were speeding to the scene from Last Resort, and to the base of operations that was at Last Resort. The never-ending babble made him feel like he was mic’d to the entire world.

His agents were trained for situations like this, and the steady calm with which everyone spoke, using minimal words, was the result of training and practice. As the helicopter began its descent, he touched the watch, muted all other voices except Ragno, and said, “Ragno, just you.”

“Alright,” she said. “Should Raven One depart for D.C. now?”

“Not yet.”

“Let me know if that changes. I’m mapping the area where you are now. Vehicles from Last Resort are ten minutes out.”

Cold air ripped through the chopper, as the pilot opened the doors. Glock in Sebastian’s hand, he turned towards the open door, crouching there as they hovered over the open field. At another time of the year, there might have been green grass or a crop in the field, but now the field looked muddy and wet. The late-afternoon sky was gray. Snow flurries were floating in the air, and there wasn’t a sign of life anywhere near the helicopter.

At twenty feet above the ground, he readied himself. He turned to the team. “Two of you stay with the pilots. Once we’re on the ground, go back up. Look for,” he paused, “anything unusual.” At five feet above ground, he jumped. He ran across the field, climbed into the helicopter, immediately receiving confirmation on what his gut had told him. Bodies. Four of them. All his.
Son of a fucking bitch.

“Spring isn’t here,” he said, having to fight to keep angry emotion out of his voice, both at the absence of Spring and the bloodshed that confronted him in the helicopter. Calling in official law enforcement agencies was probably a waste of time. Whoever had Spring wasn’t going to step into a conventional trap.

He did it anyway. “Inform local authorities, state police, and feds. We have a kidnapping that we’ll assume is spanning interstate boundaries. Get the FBI involved. We need alerts on all roadways and interstates.”

The grounded equipment was a two-pilot helicopter, the same type as he had just jumped from. It had an open cockpit and four rows of four passenger seats. “Pilots seats are empty,” he said, relaying information to Ragno. He looked at one of his team members, “Enable the cockpit surveillance system so that everyone can see.”

The agent stepped to the flight deck. “Shouldn’t I wait for forensics?”

“No time for normal protocols.” He frowned, thinking through the lack of helpful information that had come from any of the other scenes, even from the bodies of the men. “These people aren’t in any databases.”

He gave the agent a few seconds. “Any luck?”

“No, sir. It’s been effectively disabled, and I’m not sure how.”

“It was not turned on as the pilots flew to Last Resort, but once Spring and her team were aboard, it was on,” Ragno said.

“They knew our protocol. They knew if it wasn’t on while we had a high security client in transport, we would have been alerted.”

“It was disabled as they veered off course,” Ragno said.

He switched the camera on his watch on, lifted his wrist, and said, “Ragno, feed this to the others. In the row of passenger seats that’s closest to the cockpit, Dr. Schilling is in the seat that’s nearest to the door. There’s an entry wound in her forehead. Eyes open.” He swallowed, remembering the light look in her pretty brown eyes earlier that day, when she had said that she’d drawn the lucky straw for the day. “To her right, there’s an empty seat, presumably the one that Spring was in. To the right of that, there’s Agent Reiss.” Hell. He had chastised Reiss on the last day of the man’s life. “Two bullets. One grazed his left temple. Another closer to the center of the forehead. There are two additional agents in the row of seats behind Reiss and Schilling. All dead.”

He thought through different scenarios of how it might have happened, rejecting a few. He went to the last row of seats, the one that was furthest from the cockpit, and frowned. There was a compartment behind the seats, one of the customizations they’d requested from the manufacturer. It was for stowing suitcases, weapons, and gear. It would be able to fit two men. “Most likely scenario to me is that the kidnappers hid in the storage space. They had to get on the helicopter, while it was at the airport. While the chopper was en route to Last Resort, they killed our pilots. Do an aerial search of the route from the airport to Last Resort. I suspect the bodies of our pilots are somewhere along the way.”

Black Raven body count due to the prison break? Ten.

He drew a deep breath and pushed away the mixture of rage and fury that came with that thought. Rage and fury wasn’t going to find the person, who needed a brutal dose of payback.

He looked again at Dr. Schilling’s body, thinking aloud. “The perps were in place, in the pilot seats, when the team boarded with Spring. It looks like the perps turned around and surprised them. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The team that was in charge of protecting Spring got on the helicopter, thinking Black Raven pilots were flying them. Given the time of their deviation from course, I’m guessing everything seemed normal for the first ten or so minutes of the flight. The pilots turned around and would have been shooting together and fast to take down four of our armed agents at the same time.”

He paused, watching a convoy of six black Range Rovers halt on the road. As four agents stepped out of each vehicle, he said, “Ragno. Is the helicopter that’s in the air finding anything?”

“No.”

“Tell them to keep looking and provide local assistance. I’ll ride back to the airport in a vehicle. How’s Skye?”

“She figured out that Spring was gone, even before the agents managed to tell her anything. She’s pacing, but outwardly calm.” The void in his heart ached so badly it stole his fucking breath. Ragno, in a quiet tone that imparted sympathy and empathy, said, “Sure you don’t want me to give Raven One the green light for a departure and send her to the safe house without you?”

The idea had tremendous appeal. Nothing he could do or say was going to make Skye feel any better, and he needed to focus, not be sidetracked by Skye. He wasn’t a coward, though. Never had been, and never planned to be. “Have you figured out McCollum’s whereabouts?”

“D.C.,” she said. “I’ve also figured out a few more things that make him more interesting. Two years ago, when the frequency of telephone conversations between Jennifer Root and Zachary Young was at its peak, they frequently talked to Senator McCollum. So did Barrows.”

“Interesting,” Sebastian said, walking in the direction of the agents who were crossing the field. “But that can be explained due to his involvement on various technology committees. Right?”

“Senator McCollum had his hands in every prestigious committee, so yes. What’s more interesting,” Ragno said, “is that Jennifer Root, Zachary Young, and Senator McCollum all had conversations with multiple phone numbers that we cannot identify. We’re working on it.”

“Well, my gut is telling me to head to D.C., and Raven One is my most direct route there,” he said, thinking aloud. “Hold it for me.”

The most senior agent approached him. He recognized Mack Poitras. They’d been on assignment in Syria and the man was currently in charge of training at Last Resort. “I’m leaving you in charge of the assessment here and any support we need to provide the authorities. I have two agents at the airport. I need five of your best to depart with me. Give me your five with skills that are most translatable to hostage extraction capabilities in multiple hostile environments.” He had to assume there’d be an extraction. He didn’t know when, how, or where, but there would be an extraction, and he hoped like hell it was going to happen soon.

“Yes, sir.” He issued commands through a mic, then glanced at Sebastian. “Sir, the lead car is for you. The other car will follow.”

Sebastian turned to walk in the direction of the car. “Ragno, assemble a team of ten additional agents for me from those that are in the D.C. area. Duplicate the effort in Denver, and again on the West Coast. I want teams of at least thirty ready to go anywhere within a minute of when we find out where these bastards are. Alert Denver to mobilize the C130J crew, with medical staff, fully stocked for anything they throw at us, and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Parts unknown at the moment.” He knew with dead certainty that he’d need the equipment that the cargo plane held. Which equipment, in particular? He had no fucking clue.

“Got it,” Ragno said. “Order is issued.”

He had about one hundred yards of muddy field to traverse before reaching the vehicle, where the driver and two agents were waiting to accompany him to the airport. “Ragno, put me back on a private line.”

“Done.”

“Double check. Get Zeus on line, but no one else. No one external, and no one internal. No one at all, but you, me, Zeus.” Dammit, his insides were roiling with the thought that he couldn’t get out of his head.

“Give me a second.” He slow-walked, delaying his time for reaching the other agents and the vehicle so that he could finish his conversation. Snow was accumulating on the ground, and his feet were leaving dark tracks in the soft-white powder. “We’re secure. Zeus is on the line with us.”

“Talk to me,” Zeus said.

“Either this was an inside job or someone who was in our employ recently was giving the perps intel.”

“Interesting theory,” Zeus said.

“Tell us your thoughts,” Ragno said.

“Our fleet of Bell 525’s is relatively new,” he said, sidestepping a puddle of water with a fringe of ice. “They’ve been in use for what, six months?”

“Correct. We took delivery of six at the end of May. The two that are stationed there arrived in June.”

“The stowage compartment. That didn’t exist in the prior helicopters that we used at Last Resort, did it?”

“Only on the exterior.”

“So there was nowhere on the helicopter where two men could hide and then access the interior, while the helicopter was in flight.”

“I’m pulling up the plans now,” Ragno said.

“I was in the old ones more times than I can count,” Zeus answered. “And so were you. You know the answer to that without looking at the plans.”

He slowed his pace. “Our customizations are kept secret, correct?”

“Yes,” Zeus said.

“So how would the perps have known there’d be a hiding place?”

“Wishful thinking?” Ragno said. “I need more before I buy it. Someone with the manufacturer could have leaked our customization.”

“I need more too. They could have had plan A, plan B, and plan C.”

He was almost to the Range Rover, where three sets of ears would be tuned to his every word. He slowed his pace. Black Raven didn’t follow a simple alternating procedure for transport vehicles. They were currently in a two-to-one approach, and it would have taken someone with knowledge of Black Raven’s procedures, and someone watching the helicopter usage for the pattern at the airport, to know which helicopter was going to be the one to pick up Spring. “They knew which helicopter was flying next. They knew our usage pattern. Right?”

Zeus gave a low whistle.

Ragno said, “Well, they wouldn’t have left that to chance, would they?”

“I don’t think anyone in our current ranks would have done this,” he said, sickened by the thought, but having to entertain it. “But we have to look at our own. More than the agents in our current ranks, I’m thinking it could be someone who’s left us. One of our prior agents could have shared inside knowledge.”

Black Raven hired men and women who had honor and integrity. The company was considered the crown jewel of private security contractors. Employment with Black Raven was coveted by many and offered to relatively few, and it wasn’t a temporary stint. It was a career with honor. There were risks, and the job was dangerous, but the agents were highly compensated, and the benefits were the best in the business. No matter the degree of psychological testing that was employed in the hiring process and in training, or the loyalty that the company instilled, the bottom line was that he was dealing with humans, and the almighty dollar was a powerful lure.