Locked.
“Amber. Open the door.”
Only silence in reply.
“Amber,” Tessa cried louder, trying the doorknob again. “Open up the door!”
We reached the bottom of the stairs.
The shooter lay at our feet. His neck was broken, his head contorted at a hideous angle. He was breathing hoarsely, wide-eyed and afraid.
The AR-15 semiautomatic rifle he’d fired at us lay on the ground-Alexei had left it-but a large sheath on the man’s belt was missing its knife. “Help me,” he managed to say.
There wasn’t anything we could do for him right now. I knelt beside him and asked urgently, “Where are the hostages?”
“Room,” he muttered. He tried to say more, but his words burbled away into something indistinguishable.
I envisioned the base’s schematics. Cassandra will be in the control room. But the hostages? Where?
Lien-hua grabbed the assault rifle.
“Go right,” I directed her. “If you don’t find the hostages, get to the control room and stop Cassandra!”
She darted right and I sprinted left toward the crew quarters.
90
8:57 p.m.
3 minutes until the transmission
“Amber!”
No answer.
The meds?
The sleeping pills?
No, no, no!
Tessa yanked out her phone, tried 911. The line was dead.
Pick the lock.
You have to get in that room!
The doorknob was like most bathroom locks-just a hole on the outside. Easy to get into if you have a barbeque skewer-thing or maybe a paperclip or bobby pin. Or a thick nail.
“I’m coming!” she yelled to Amber, though at this point she doubted her stepaunt could hear her. As fast as she could, Tessa rushed downstairs to Sean’s workbench.
The interrogators unfastened Terry’s wrists.
While they were lifting him toward the bed, he went for Riley’s gun, but as he snagged the weapon, it discharged, sending a round through Riley’s pelvis. The guy shuddered to the ground, screaming. Terry dropped back into the wheelchair, and by the time he’d landed, he’d already swung the gun toward Riley’s head. “Don’t move!” he shouted to the other agents.
The two of them froze, tense, hands already on their weapons.
For a moment, Terry debated with himself about trying to kill them all but decided he probably wouldn’t be able to do it without getting himself shot.
“Place your guns on the bed,” Terry commanded. “If you try anything, Riley dies.”
They didn’t move.
“Don’t test me. Guns on the bed. Do it now.”
At last, unwillingly, they obeyed.
“Get out. If anyone comes through that door in the next twelve minutes I’ll kill Riley.”
“No, we take him-”
“Go.”
The two men hesitated at first, then finally backed out the door. When they were gone and the door was closed, Terry repositioned himself to better cover it.
“Hang in there, Riley,” Terry told him, then, thinking of the militants who would be showing up any minute, he added honestly, “I’m not going to kill you.”
I flared around the corner, saw a woman in military fatigues straddling the rec room entrance, AR-15 aimed inside.
“Put down the-” I yelled, but she spun, faced me, laser sight on my chest. I fired. Three shots. Quick. Center mass.
She went down.
I rushed forward and found her alive, stunned, wearing body armor. I cuffed her, then scanned the room.
Three men in Master-at-Arms uniforms lay inside, as well as five other naval personnel all gagged and restrained with plastic handcuffs. Sometimes terrorists will tie up some of their own people along with their captives so if you free the hostages you’ll inadvertently also free some of their men. There was no time to sort all this out now. I turned to leave.
No, Pat! There are ten or more Eco-Tech members. Cassandra ordered these people eliminated. Someone else will come by to kill them.
I found the ranking MA, a man whose name tag read T. Daniels, ungagged him.
Donnie loves his family. He would talk about them.
He would “How long have you known Commander Pickron?” I asked.
“What?”
“How long!”
“Six years.”
“When did Ardis have Lizzie?”
He looked at me oddly. “She was adopted.”
That was enough for me.
I flicked out my knife to cut him loose.
Tessa found a plastic container with an assortment of nails. Grabbed it.
Sprinted back upstairs to the bathroom.
I handed Daniels my knife. “Free everyone from your team. Secure this level.”
Then I rushed toward the stairwell that would take me down to the control room.
Tessa slid the nail in, jiggled it, and within seconds the lock clicked.
She threw open the door.
And saw Amber lying unconscious on the floor, an empty bottle beside her left hand.
No, God, please, please, please!
Tessa ran to her, called her name, but Amber didn’t move. Tessa shook her, and Amber’s head lolled listlessly to the side.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening!
Tessa felt for a pulse. It was there, thready, but present, and Amber was breathing, but Tessa didn’t know how long she’d survive, how serious an overdose it was.
Obviously it’s serious! The pills are all gone!
She snapped out her cell, found the number for the hospital in Woodborough, and when a woman finally answered, Tessa blurted, “Get me a doctor, now!”
“What’s the emergency, ma’am?”
“An overdose! I need to wake someone from an overdose!”
She expected the woman at the hospital to ask her what kind of pills had been ingested, or how many had been taken, or the victim’s sex or build, but instead she said, “Just a moment,” and put Tessa on hold.
On hold!
Tessa set down the phone, turned on the speaker, said to Amber, “You’re gonna be okay.” After a quick search, she assured herself there were no more empty bottles around. The bottles of depression meds were still nearly full.
You need to get her to the hospital.
Amber’s car was in the driveway. She could No, Amber might stop breathing on the way. You have to wake her up before you do anything!
Tessa had a friend who’d overdosed last year. She’d survived only because they got her stomach pumped in time.
Still no doctor.
Still on hold!
Tessa couldn’t make Amber regurgitate while she was still unconscious-she’d aspirate on her own vomit.
Wake her up, you have to wake her up!
Tessa’s eyes fell on the shower stall.
She grabbed Amber’s armpits and dragged her across the floor.
Alexei reached the command level, found a militant waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs.
Using the eight-inch blade Ka-Bar Tanto he’d acquired from the man he’d disabled a few moments ago, he put the militant down-in less than a second, the blade was red, his adversary’s neck was open, and with a soft and susurrus gurgle, he was fading to the ground.
Alexei allowed himself no time for regret but started through the electromagnetic production room toward the hallway to the control center-then heard footsteps on his left, readied the knife, and slipped behind a generator.
The female FBI agent he’d met a few minutes ago appeared at the doorway carrying an assault rifle, but an Eco-Tech militant burst from the side of the room, delivering a fierce punch that sent the rifle spinning to the ground. She went at the man with a powerful inner edge crescent kick, then a butterfly kick to the jaw, driving him backward.
So, it looked like she could handle things from here.
Alexei charged down the hallway to the command center.
91
Someone at the top of the stairwell shot at me, and I ducked low, spun around the corner. “Drop your weapon!” I yelled.
In reply he fired again.