A car had just pulled into a parking space and the driver got out, spotting Wyatt coming toward him, he asked, “Is the hotel for the International Trade Convention social?”
Wyatt hurried up to the driver. When he was close enough to whisper, he told him, “Get out of the garage. Now.”
“But we just got here,” the man replied. “Is something wrong?”
Wyatt snorted. He didn’t have time to stop and explain. “There are bombs planted all over this garage. If you want to live, get your date and get the hell out, quietly. The man responsible might still be down here.”
The woman in the passenger seat cried out, jerked the door open and got to her feet.
The man grabbed the woman’s hand and hustled her back out the ramp to the exit, hurrying her along in her high heels.
After disarming the charges he could find, Wyatt circled around the ramp heading into the bottom level of the parking garage. At first it appeared empty.
When he stepped out into the open, a shot rang out, nicking his arm. Wyatt dove behind a vehicle as another bang echoed against the walls.
“You can’t stop this,” a voice called out, one Wyatt recognized as Preston.
“Preston, whatever your issues are, we can get you help.” Wyatt moved to the opposite end of the vehicle and eased around it.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Wyatt dropped to his chest and peered beneath the chassis of the Cadillac he was using for cover. He spotted Preston’s legs moving toward the stairwell. “Try me, Preston. I’m listening.”
“It’s too late. I have to set these off before they evacuate.”
“No, you don’t. These people don’t have to die. There are always solutions. Give yourself a chance.”
“No. I’m done and all those people who’ve pretended to be our friends, the countries who say they’re on our side and then kill us every chance they get, tonight, they’ll know.”
“What will they know, Preston?” Wyatt worked his way around one car, then another.
“The world will know that they all lie. We try to help them and they kill us. They killed every one of the men in my unit. And we were fucking trying to help them.”
“Preston, I’ve been there,” Wyatt called out softly. “I’ve seen my friends die in a battle we seem destined to lose. If we don’t try, if we don’t keep fighting for right, they win.”
“That’s just it. They’ve already won. Our government is too stupid to figure it out, and they want to keep giving the enemy money, keep educating them and building their fucking buildings for them. It’s got to stop.”
“This isn’t the way to do it, Preston. Killing innocent people isn’t the way to stop them.”
“Maybe it’ll make our enemies think before coming to our country and pretending they’re on our side. I’m tired of diplomacy. It doesn’t work.”
While Preston had been talking, Wyatt worked his way around the ends of half a dozen cars. He could see Preston pushing more C-4 into place with the detonator already strapped to it.
Wyatt started to stand. A loud bang exploded close by and a bullet pinged off the car beside him.
“Get back, Magnus. I don’t have a beef with you. If you want to live, get out now.” He fired at him again and ran for the staircase.
Wyatt raced after him, but didn’t reach him before the door closed and a bullet fired into the lock disabled it. He couldn’t follow Preston using that route, so he ran to the elevator, and punched the up arrow, speaking into his handheld radio. “Joe.”
“Wyatt, where are you?”
The door opened and he stepped in. “Coming up from the garage. It is Preston. He’s got some bone to pick with foreign countries and has set C-4 charges in the parking garage. He got away from me and is headed up. I don’t know where. And he’s also armed and has already fired at me several times.”
“Damn. I should have known he was a loose cannon when Bacchus growled at him. Look, they’re taking all the delegates from the ballroom out into the side alley,” Joe informed him. “I’m at the front entrance, monitoring progress.”
“Do you have a visual on Fiona and Maddie?”
“I saw Maddie out front, but not Fiona.” Joe cut out for a moment. “Sorry, someone bumped into me. Place is crazy. But I’ll let you know when I see them.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Don’t worry, Magnus, I’ll keep an eye out for your girl.”
“Gotta go. I’m on my way up to the lobby.” Wyatt burst through the door into the richly carpeted reception area on the lobby level. Women dressed in ball gowns and men in tuxedos or black suits hurried toward the exit. Some of the hotel guests wore bathrobes and bedroom slippers as if they’d just gone to bed when the evacuation had begun.
Hotel staff apologized for the inconvenience as they assured the guests they’d get to the bottom of the problem as soon as possible, while they ushered them out the door.
A child whimpered, a man called out to his wife and everyone was talking at once. But all in all it was more of a controlled chaos with the mass of people moving steadily outside.
They just weren’t moving fast enough. If Preston set off the charges…
Wyatt exited through the side door, searching the crowd of faces for Fiona, the darkness and people standing around hampering his efforts.
His radio chirped and he held it to his mouth. “Find her?” he barked.
“No. She’s not out the front of the building, nor is she answering her radio. I’m headed around the side.”
“Fuck. I’m here on the side of the building. She’s not here either.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, headed their way.
Wyatt pushed his way back to the door. “I’m going back in.”
“The staff is blocking the exits, waiting for the fire department to arrive. They’re only allowing people out. No one is going in.”
“Bullshit.” When Wyatt reached the exit door he’d come out of, he tried the handle. It was locked.
Damn. He was turning toward the front of the building when the door opened and the man he recognized as the Brazilian delegate pushed through with a beautiful woman clinging to his arm, her makeup smeared from tears. She spoke in rapid Portuguese and a fresh round of tears erupted.
Wyatt dove for the door before it swung shut and reentered the hotel.
“Sir, no one is allowed back inside.”
“It’s okay, I’m head of the security staff,” Wyatt said.
“We were under strict instructions to get everyone out. The bomb squad is on its way. You can’t go inside.”
The man blocked Wyatt’s path.
His heartbeat hammering in his chest, every combat instinct sprang to life. Wyatt’s eyes narrowed and he had to remind himself the staff member was not his enemy. “Move out of my way, or I’ll move you out of my way. And trust me, you won’t like the way I move you.”
Something in the steely tone of his voice got through to the man because he stepped to the side. “You’re on your own, buddy. I’m not taking responsibility for your life if this building explodes.” The man pushed past him and exited through the door he’d been guarding.
Wyatt raced for the ballroom.
The room was empty, the picked-over tables of food standing as a reminder of the festivities that only a few minutes before had been underway. No one had stayed.
If she wasn’t out front or at the side entrance, where could Fiona have gone?
Surely she hadn’t tried to go up to their rooms or to one of the floors to help someone else get out of the hotel?
Someone had turned off the elevators. Wyatt headed for the stairwell and ran up the flights of stairs stopping at every floor to check the hallways. “Fiona!” he yelled. No one stirred on the first or second floors. When he reached the third floor, he hurried down the hallway to the room he’d shared with Fiona and swiped his key through the card reader.