Flash Point (37 page)

‘Thanks, Irv. You're the best.'

‘That's what I've heard,' Irv said, and the line went dead.

Jenna climbed into the chopper, it's blades already clipping above, and they lifted off the makeshift helipad that was Flint Lewis's front yard, leaving thin cherry blossom trees bending and blowing in their wake.

‘Back to DC,' Jenna shouted to the pilot. ‘We've got to get to the Jefferson Memorial. And fast.'

‘Set her down over there!' Saleda hollered to the helicopter pilot, pointing to a wide, grassy opening on their left.

Jenna opened the text that had just come through on her phone as Saleda leaned into her.

‘East Potomac Park,' her Special Agent in Charge said, ‘Don't want her to see us coming. If she spooks, she might blow the thing before we have a chance to try and talk her down.'

‘We've got 'em,' Jenna said, feeling the small smile break across her face, then pulling it back.
It's not over yet.

‘Flint?' Saleda asked.

Jenna nodded. ‘911 in Columbia Heights got a call from the Tivoli Theatre on 14th and Park Northwest. Theatre manager came in early for preparations for box office opening for the performance tonight. He was the first one there, but the doors were already unlocked. Came in to find the lights on in the main auditorium, a couple and a baby chained up together …'

Jenna's heart skipped as the chubby, smiling face of Flint and Ruthie's barely-a-year-old Nell – a face she'd seen only in pictures – flashed in. Jenna ached for her, swallowed a lump in her throat. That sweet, innocent toddler already shared more in common with Jenna than any child deserved. The poor little thing didn't understand any of this now, but one day, she would understand far too well.

If she makes it.

‘Jenna?' Dodd prodded, her words ambling off in the middle of her sentence the way they had clearly worrying him. ‘What else did Irv say?'

Jenna looked at Dodd, tried hard to still her quivering chin. ‘Th-they were chained up together on the stage, attached to all sorts of explosives.' She looked down, taking a long pause to force away the wild colors of her emotions running through her head. To still her gut reactions. Muster resolve.
They need me on the case right now. They need my head in the case.
‘Irv's already gained access to the theatre's surveillance cams, and it's definitely them.'

The helicopter lowered toward the open, grassy field of the park that sat about a mile from the Jefferson Memorial.

‘Right,' Saleda said. She leaned toward the pilot. ‘As soon as we land, Jenna and I will head for the memorial with the backup waiting for us.' She met Dodd's gaze and nodded, saying to the pilot, ‘I need you to get this guy to the Tivoli Theatre ASAP. Hostage situation in progress. About four miles north, just north of the Columbia Heights Civic Plaza.' She turned to Dodd. ‘I'll have backup and hostage negotiation teams en route. Assess the situation – especially anything that pertains or connects it to Ashlee as best you can tell – and check back in. Jenna and I will head to the memorial and spread out to try and find Ashlee.'

On a whim, Jenna pulled out her phone, texted Irv to send her any family information he had on Ashlee Haynie other than her marriage to James Asner. With James dead, maybe she suddenly realized she was in too deep, wanted out. But without her husband, who could she go to that would help her get away from Black Shadow? Who could she go to that might still take her in … hide her, after all she'd done. She didn't have many options if any at all. If she had parents or siblings, maybe she went to them.

‘What about me?' Grey asked meekly.

Saleda paused, the question seeming to have caught her off guard. In the next second though, she gave Grey a quick nod, as if she'd had the answer on her tongue the whole time, and said, ‘You'll ride along with one of the FBI backup units Quantico has waiting for us on the ground here.'

Grey nodded politely, and Jenna couldn't tell if the mousy look on her face was simply taking instructions in a serious and intimidating situation, or if maybe a little disappointment at being relegated to a spot outside of the thick of the action glowed somewhere behind Grey's wide, round eyes.

The pilot brought the chopper down gently on the grass. Saleda stepped out first, then helped Grey follow.

Jenna moved to take her turn out the door but looked over her shoulder. ‘Dodd? Don't listen to a thing Flint Lewis says. Or take it with a grain of salt, anyway. I don't have his game entirely figured out yet, but the theatrics, the stage …'

Flint's master plan was all laid out, and just like everything he'd done until now, he would have set the stage – every actor, location, prop, and audience member – orchestrated to perfection in a way that would perfectly execute his show. Every attack leading to this moment had been spectacles tailored to convey the story Flint wanted to tell to the world, and his final act would surely be designed to give his audience a climax that would be burned into their memories forever.

‘Perfect for him, huh? Though a little too matchy-matchy for me. I know he's kind of obsessed with the idea of making every piece of his weird attempt to bring about an elitist revolution take a bath in culture and verify it's IQ, but I personally like even my genius criminal masterminds to throwback to the old abandoned warehouse every now and then,' Dodd joked. ‘But don't worry. I'll let the hostage negotiator listen to what he says. I'm there to listen to the things he
doesn't
say.' Dodd gave Jenna a wink. ‘Though I have to tell you, I'm looking forward to the moment we let him realize we know he hasn't actually been kidnapped and is just being a prima donna. It'll tell me – tell
us
– a
whole
lot more about him.'

Jenna gave Dodd a close-lipped smile.
Exactly.

‘Now go, Doc. There's a Southern belle out there who's not quite ready to give up on the Civil War, and you've got to find her so you can let her know she's about to bomb the wrong commemorative landmark! Jefferson
had
slaves! It's
Abe's
memorial she wants!'

Jenna waved a hand at him. ‘Make sure to take your ear horn with you when you go talk with the hostage negotiator, old man, because if you start talking like that to some police commander you've never met before and you don't give him good reason to put you squarely in the “old enough to be senile category” right off the bat, he might think you're in with the bad guys and have you hauled off in a straight jacket.'

‘Will do,' Dodd said, chuckling.

Jenna gave him a quick grin, then turned and exited the chopper.

Jenna pulled her phone back out to find Irv's reply waiting. Every muscle in her body stiffened as she read. Ashlee
had
had a brother – a twin.

Jenna wandered over and sat on an iron bench, her eyes never leaving her phone as she read. Ashlee's brother Mitch had enlisted in the army at twenty. Then, when Bush invaded Iraq, Mitch was deployed. After Fallujah, what was left of him came home in a box.

She clicked the attachments, which turned out to be pictures: one of Ashlee and her brother as kids wearing swimsuits and holding hands on a dock, a glistening lake behind them. In the second, eight or nine-year-old Ashlee and Mitch climbing one of the many trees that made up a field covered in pink blossoms. Ashlee sitting on a low branch, leaning against the trunk with her legs stretched out as she read a Ramona Quimby book. Mitch hooking his knees over a branch on the opposite side of the trunk and hanging upside down.

Jenna scrolled through the others. Teenaged Ashlee and Mitch – both wearing deep red robes and flat graduation caps of the same color. Ashlee's cap's gold tassel dangled over her right eye as Mitch squeezed her in a bear hug, his lips pressed hard against her right cheek. The two at a theme park with their heads pressed together, making goofy faces.

Jenna swiped the tablet to see the last picture, and her breath caught. A flag-draped coffin stood in a cemetery, a handful of people in black scattered around a priest talking at a portable lectern. To his left was Ashlee, seated in one of the few chairs for the family. Hints of tears were covered by the sunglasses she wore, and her head was bowed. She stared at her feet, and in her lap, she clutched a tiny sprig of flowers.

Jenna pictured the Tidal Basin in her mind. That's where she'd find Ashlee Haynie. She just knew.

Her feet seemed to know, too.

Ashlee Haynie didn't even seem surprised – or alarmed, for that matter – as Jenna sat down next to her on the park bench, which was set a ways back from the Tidal Basin and the tourist path along it, nestled into the dense grove of cherry blossom trees that were a favorite of tourists visiting the city. Jenna folded her hands in her lap. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that the deep chestnut the terrorist had dyed her hair wasn't so bad, but the short, pixie style it had been cropped into didn't seem right for the Ashlee's face shape. The disguise would've worked if she only wanted to blend into a new town and be a new person. Never if someone was looking for her.

‘Thought I might find you here,' Jenna said conversationally.

A bird chirped overhead, and the gentle whispers of the Tidal Basin's ripples would've made for a serene meeting place – even for an FBI Agent and the wanted terrorist she was hunting – were it not for the yells and chants of the protestors on the steps of the memorial ruining the ambience even from a distance.

Ashlee stared straight ahead. ‘No mind games, Dr Ramey. No “good cop,” either. We both know you're not my friend. We both know what I did. Said straight to your face. Hell, you probably felt sorry for me. Maybe worried about me a little.'

The woman's tone was different from the act she had put on during the interview at the bank, sure. She'd been playing a role. But even so, the Ashlee speaking now didn't exude hate and the hard quality that the brutality of Scarlett's kills would suggest she would. It wasn't remorse or regret, either. Definitely not fear. Ice blue flashed in. Ashlee's tone said confidence but also gave away that she was weary.
And maybe … could it possibly be she's a little hurt?
But more than anything, the iced blue told Jenna what her demeanor was: resigned.

Jenna crossed her legs, nodded. ‘You're right. I did worry about you. Worry about anyone who's been through something like I thought you had. And no, you're right. I know we're not friends. Neither of us wants to be. But I also know you might want some help, even if you'd never ask for it.'

‘If you're here to try to talk me out of this, Dr Ramey, you really shouldn't bother. I assume you already know we're holding Flint Lewis's family hostage,' Ashlee said evenly.

The dark yellow of obliviousness flashed in.
Interesting wording.

‘Yes,' Jenna said, unwilling to give more in case Ashlee might slip and give them something they didn't already have. ‘But let's talk about you some more. If you needed help, I'm here. I know you're dedicated, but even the most dedicated are only human. Killing is one thing, Ashlee, but dying is another,'

‘Well, you'd better hope I can do both, because the way this bomb is rigged, if it doesn't detonate on time, the one rigged to the Lewis family will,' Ashlee said.

Now,
this
was news.
In more ways than one. If it wasn't so twisted, Jenna might've laughed. If Ashlee didn't know Flint Lewis
was
Beo, he was killing two birds with one stone. He sets off another massive attack that, given the current climate, would bring the government one step closer to enacting the martial law Black Shadow needed to prove to the people that the government
would
turn on its own citizens unless the right people were put into power, and at the same time, threw yet another Black Shadow member under the bus and got rid of a loose end. Dark yellow flashed in again.

So, if you're so gung-ho about dying, then why do you seem so darn disappointed?

Aw, what the hell.

‘So, are you just so noble that you can't stand the thought of an innocent family being blown to bits? Frankly, Ashlee, your past doesn't exactly show you to be a consummate humanitarian, but I have to be honest, for some reason, my gut says you don't want to die.'

That made Ashlee prickle up. Her whole body turned to look at Jenna. ‘And how did you come up with that? Are you trying to say I don't have the guts to do it? Finish the mission we started? That I
believe
in?'

Jenna calmly shook her head. ‘Not at all. I don't doubt your courage, dedication to your movement. Personal loss is a powerful motivator to take up a cause, but it's also the most effective fuel to drive someone to make bold moves, effect change.' Jenna paused, looked into Ashlee's eyes. ‘No matter the cost.'

‘So why don't you think I'll blow this thing—' Ashlee stopped mid-thought, her hardened expression morphing to one of confusion. ‘How did you know a personal loss is why I believe so strongly in what Black Shadow's doing?'

‘Same way I knew to look for you in this cherry tree grove while all the rest of the agents searching for you are still combing the place,' Jenna said.

Ashlee twisted a silver ring on her right hand. ‘You know about Mitch.'

Jenna nodded. ‘Yeah. I might not know all the details, like how Beo found out about your brother, or how he knew enough about how you felt about Mitch's death to know you were a target ripe for the picking. But I do know that however he knew those things, he was able to do what he does with everyone in Black Shadow and take those already fragile, vulnerable thoughts you had while grieving your twin and twist them around in your mind. Mold them and mess with your head until you not only blamed those in power for Mitch's death but shared Beo's own convictions about what made those people in power unfit to govern and dangerous to society. At some point, like Beo, you believed the people controlling the government were dangerous to society just like they had been to Mitch, and that had the intellectually elite been the ruling class, Mitch would still be alive.'