Native Born (15 page)

“I go alone,” she said.

“He'll kill you,” Clyne said.

She didn't reply, just pressed her lips tight and crossed her arms in stubborn refusal to listen to reason.

“She has to go,” said Glendora. “For Jovanna.”

And then he realized what his grandmother meant. Cassidy was Jovanna's mother and fully prepared to trade her life for her child's.

“My team will meet us at the reservation border. They'll be in position on every road.”

Clyne turned and left the room. He walked down the hall to his bedroom, where he changed his clothes and retrieved a special case from beneath his bed. Metal case in hand, he walked to Gabe's room and reached for the key that was hanging on a nail behind the medicine wheel. Clyne gripped the key a little tighter than necessary as he faced the gun safe. Then he blew away a long breath and retrieved his rifle, scope and tripod. The ammunition box sat on the top shelf. He shoved it into his front pocket, then stooped to place each of the three pieces in the foam cradles. The fit was exact. Clyne clipped the case closed and retraced his steps. The room went silent at his return.

Gabe eyed the case he held and then met his gaze. “You remember how to shoot that thing?”

Clyne nodded. “I remember.”

Chapter Twenty

Gabe's men and Cassidy's team from the FBI field office rendezvoused with a unit from the Tucson office just south of Black Mountain at the point where Cassidy was to wait for Parker's phone call.

Parker's call came in at 7:56 in the morning and, as promised, he delivered the meet location.

“I know that place. It's a bad spot,” said Gabe. “First, it's a private airfield and it has a helicopter port.”

Her team pulled up satellite images on the mobile operations station.

“He must know you can fly birds,” said Luke.

“Second problem,” Gabe said, “is that we have to cross down over a wide-open area that stretches for miles. Even at the lowest magnification, he'll see us coming if we go with you, and we don't have time to set up beforehand, and forget about a drone or aircraft.” Gabe waved a hand at the blue cloudless sky. “He'll see them.”

“We can put them up higher than he can see,” said Tully.

“To observe,” clarified Gabe.

“Yes.”

Cassidy conferred with the teams and refused every suggestion that did not involve her going alone to meet Parker.

Clyne took hold of her arm to get her to focus on him.

“I'm going with you.”

“He sees you, he kills your sister. I'm not taking that chance.”

“He won't see me. Not from three hundred yards.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

He pulled her toward his SUV and opened the fitted case on his front seat, showing her the foam packing in which his M24 waited beside the tripod.

Her eyes widened. She shook her head.

“You don't hunt.”

“True.”

“You wouldn't take my pistol.”

“I know.”

“So how can you expect to do this?”

“Because he has Jovanna.”

She gave him a long steady look with those cool blue eyes.

“I can do it.”

“We have sharpshooters,” she said, her head slowing shaking a denial.

“Any of them have thirty-six confirmed kills?”

She met his gaze. “Clyne, I'm afraid.”

“No. Not you.”

“If he sees you...”

“Just drop your speed to twenty and I'll roll out. Then I'll set up.”

She was considering it. He could tell from the amount of time she stood staring at his gear.

“You have to promise me something.” Her gaze flicked to him. “If you have to choose, it will be her.”

He didn't want to make that deal. This time he was shaking his head.

“Promise or I take one of them.” She glanced back at her team.

He couldn't let her go with anyone else.

“All right.” But he made himself a promise, too. He'd save them both. Somehow.

Cassidy went to tell her team. There was some raised voices. But the pressure of time worked in her favor. Tully aimed a finger at her. She never flinched. Finally she returned to him.

“Let's go.”

Cassidy drove her sedan down the mountain with the entire army of federal agents and Gabe's men.

Clyne was glad for the tinted glass that would keep any spotter Parker might have from seeing him. There were two likely places to set up. He made his pick.

“That one.”

As they drew closer he thought of all the things he needed to tell her.

“Clyne, if I don't make it back, you have to promise me to take care of her.”

“You're coming back.”

“She's the only one in this world who will miss me.”

“I'll miss you. So come back.”

She gave him a sweet sad smile.

“You took off your holster?” he asked.

Cassidy lifted her jacket, revealing an empty holster.

He hoped that Parker didn't have a set of high-powered binoculars. Clyne's mind began to sink back into the job. The average range of accuracy from three-hundred yards was three and a half inches in either direction. His was two inches.

His bullet would travel so fast that it would reach his target in less than a quarter second of when he pulled the trigger. Too slow, Clyne decided.

“Don't shoot until Jovanna is clear,” she reminded him again.

His stomach cramped in a tight little knot. But this wasn't dread. It was that mix of anticipation and the acceptance that he wanted to pull that trigger. That was the reason he had stopped. He wasn't just good at hitting a target. He found a satisfaction in a job well done. That made him a cold-blooded killer.

She drove and he held the familiar case between his legs. Inside was his M24 rifle and tripod. He had correctly guessed their location and had accordingly dressed in pale tan pants and jacket so that he would blend with the sand and soil here on the flats. In addition to this outfit, he wore elbow and knee pads. He'd had enough falls from bucking horses when he rode the rodeo circuit to know how to roll. The trick was to go with inertia and keep your arms close to your core.

“There it is,” she said, spotting the hangars. There were three in this private facility. Clyne knew this facility was best known for the gliders that were towed from it and dropped so they drifted down on the updrafts on the mountains.

“Close enough. Start slowing down. I'm going on the turn. He can't tell your speed if you're coming straight at him.”

She took her foot of the gas. “Clyne. Be careful.”

He reached over and stroked her cheek with the knuckles of his first two fingers.

“You, too.” Then he gripped the door handle and kept his eyes on the speedometer. He waited for the middle of the turn and when the needle dropped below thirty, he counted to three, threw open the door and threw himself into space.

* * *

C
ASSIDY
WATCHED
IN
her rearview as Clyne tumbled over and over, gripping his case tight to his chest. So fast. Had he made it? She finished the turn and lost her line of sight to Clyne. She was alone now except for the eye in the sky and the mic that she wore and the camera/mic combo on the hood of her car grill.

Her hands were slick on the wheel. He'd be able to see her, but Clyne would watch her back as long as she stayed outside the hangar. What if Parker made her go inside? Clyne would have no shot and she would have no weapon.

Either way, she'd know soon. Three hundred yards did not take very long to cross. Had she given him enough time to get in position?

The gate was drawn open. Cassidy knew little about gliding except that it required a tow plane and the correct weather conditions. The place looked empty and she wondered if there was some season for this hobby or if it was just not economically feasible to be open seven days a week.

The still gliders looked like dinosaurs or some mechanical army waiting deployment. Most gliders only had two wheels and they sat one behind the other, so the planes tipped at an angle with one wing resting on the sandy ground. She glanced at the helicopter on the square pad of concrete. The rest of the field including the runway was graded, compact dirt.

The helicopter was gray-green and tiny. One of those Robinson R22 models with a single drooping flexible blade. The color made the resemblance to a dragonfly almost perfect. Compared to what she had flown, this was no more than a toy.

Beyond, the hangar yawned open and she just knew Parker was in there. Her earpiece came on and she heard the voice of Luke Forrest.

“They have Johnny Parker in place. He'll think he's across the river in Mexico, but he'll be about thirty miles short. Should be easy to pick him up again.”

“Good,” she replied. “Approaching the gate.”

“Yeah. I see. Where is the little jerk?”

“No idea. Can you see Clyne?”

“Yeah. He's all set up on the hill behind you. He'll have a shot if you're not inside.”

Cassidy set her jaw and drove into the airport and parked well away from the hangar and then stepped out of her vehicle and into the range of the camera on the grill.

“Parker?”

She was a sitting duck. There was just as much chance he meant to kill her while she stood here as that he intended to actually make the exchange.

“Mama!”

Cassidy turned toward the sound of her daughter's voice and saw Amanda in the seat of one of the gliders. The plexiglass cockpit had been wrapped with cable and clipped with a combination lock. Jovanna pounded a fist on the clear plastic capsule. Her face was sweat-soaked and flushed. How long had she been out in the blazing sun?

“He's got her in one of the gliders. Number Alpha Brava Two Four Six.”

“Got it,” said Luke in her ear.

She took a step in that direction and heard a male voice.

“Far enough.”

Cassidy turned to see Lamar Parker standing in the hangar doorway. From that position she knew Clyne did not have a shot.

“Any closer and I blow the plane.”

Cassidy's heart shot right into her throat and her entire body went as cold as ice water.

“Whole backseat is filled with gas cans. Simple spark will set off the lot.”

Cassidy repeated what he'd said so that Luke and the others would know of this new threat. Parker might be lying but she was not going to take that chance.

“I'm here,” Cassidy said, lifting her arms and facing Lamar. That should give Clyne the direction of his target, if not the sight line he needed. “Let her out.”

“Not until I hear from my brother.”

“I have a phone so you can speak to him.” She reached in her front pocket.

“Stop!”

She did.

“Anything but a phone comes out of your pocket and I will shoot you now.”

Now
. Instead of later. Parker did not plan on letting Cassidy live.

She glanced back at Jovanna, trapped in that glider. If there were gas tanks behind her, the smell of vaporizing gasoline should make her sick but she looked bright-eyed and really hot.

Cassidy lifted the mobile phone and set it at her feet. Then she backed away.

“You think I'm stupid. Bring it here.”

She did think he was stupid. She'd read every scrap of paper they had on him from his failed attempt at a GED to his current job as a mechanic in a quick-lube place in Phoenix.

The phone rang and she carried it to Parker, fully expecting him to shoot her when she got within ten feet. He didn't and she tossed him the phone noticing that his weapon of choice was a shotgun. Terrible range, but you could make a mess of anything nearby without having a spectacular aim.

Parker took the call. His expression brightened.

“Johnny? You free?”

A pause.

“I did that. You in Mexico?”

Another pause.

“They give you the money? Well, that's fine. Just walk south. I'll meet you in that place by the beach in a day or two.”

Cassidy narrowed her eyes. Either he could fly that bird or he thought she would fly it for him.

Parker slipped the phone in his pocket.

“Anybody else in that car?” he asked.

“Have a look.”

He didn't, which was unfortunate because it would have required him to step from the protection of the hangar. Instead he disappeared from sight. She took the opportunity to walk back toward her daughter.

“Jovanna, are there gas cans behind you?”

“Yes.”

Her heart gave a flutter and then squeezed with such an ache she had to press a hand over it.

“I'll get you out.”

“Be careful. He's mean. Mama, he killed Buster.”

“Buster is okay. He's at the vet.”

And that bit of news was the straw that made her brave little girl begin to cry.

Parker reemerged from the hangar driving a postal truck that had the driver seat situated on the opposite side. He now wore a helmet and something that looked like body armor. He made for the helicopter pad.

“Deals a deal,” he yelled. “Go on and let her out.”

Cassidy wondered if he meant to blow her and Jovanna to pieces and then fly himself off. But she still ran to the glider. She was now separated from Jovanna by only a thin piece of plastic and the cable that held the glider like a steel boa constrictor.

“Combination!” Cassidy shouted.

Parker had reached them now but he provided the numbers and Cassidy spun the dial back and forth until the mechanism released. She threw the lock and cable over the top of the glider and then hauled it from below, repeating the action again and again until the cable finally dropped to the ground.

“Mama?” Jovanna said and pointed.

A glance behind her told her two things: Parker had the shotgun aimed at her back and Clyne still had no shot. She knew her body armor would stop most of the birdshot, but not any that hit her head. But she could at least protect Jovanna from the blast.

“Pull the toggles up front,” she said.

Her daughter did and the capsule flipped open like a clear burger container. No smell of gas. She glanced to the small space surrounding the single seat, spotting gallon jugs that looked like water. She didn't know what was in there and didn't want to know.

Cassidy hugged her daughter tight and dragged her clear, keeping her back to Parker.

“Let her go,” he ordered.

She did, dropping her on the far side of the glider as she whispered to Jovanna.

“When you can, run for the gate and keep running. Clyne is out there waiting for you.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“I'll follow.” She hoped that would be the case.

Cassidy released her child, who ducked behind the glider. Parker didn't seem to notice or care.

“Get in,” he ordered.

She did, knowing that when he turned the truck, Clyne would have the shot. But Parker put it in Reverse.

“So what's the plan?” she asked.

“You fly me out of here, is what.”

“I can't fly that.”

“You can. You said you were a pilot in the Middle East. I heard you.”