Terror Bounty (23 page)

DSS Agent Kosler stood in front of the
convention center, on Pratt Street which had been blocked off. He felt proud.
Because of their training, of their protocols, they’d been able to evacuate
VIPs quickly and effectively. The finance ministers were already on their way
out of the city. Now they were ushering out the last of the assistants.

He approached a younger agent who was
jogging out of the sprawling building.

“Is that the last of them?”

The agent nodded. “Yeah. Looks like we
won’t need all those buses in spite of everything.”

They had requested transports from the
city and Baltimore PD had been able to provide a dozen of them. Only a few had
been required.

Kosler found the response strange.

“Did you evacuate the hotels?”

“What hotels?”

The words died in his mouth as the truth
occurred to him. The Baltimore Convention Center was connected to two hotels,
the Sheraton Inner Harbor and the Hilton on the other side. And this wasn’t even
mentioning all the neighboring hotels, plus Camden Yards baseball stadium right
next door.

The agent ran back inside while Kosler
barked new orders. They’d been so focused on safeguarding their principals that
they didn’t stop to think about the regular customers who were exposed if there
really was going to be an attack of some sort.

Fire alarms were triggered and security
staff from the hotels was pressed into service to make sure everyone exited the
hotels.

“Keep calm but hurry up, please!” Go, go!”

The buses would be needed after all.

Local cops were on hand to guide people
into the vehicles and as soon as they were full, overflowing even, they were
driven off the perimeter.

“Come on,” Kosler said to himself.

This wasn’t going as quickly as he
wanted. God knew when this attack would take place…

~  ~  ~  ~

Jackman was still a little giddy from the
excitement of combat.

Although he had trained in dogfighting,
this had been his first genuine experience with it. Nowadays, naval aviators
weren’t called to fight against Soviet MiGs. No, all Jackman had ever done was
drop bombs on enemy positions and fly close support missions.

But he still had taken care of those
assholes.

There was movement on his instrument
panel. He had company. Six US Air Force F-16 Fighting Falcons were racing at
Mach 2 to intercept him. From their heading, they were coming from Andrews.
Probably from the 113th Wing, the DC Air National Guard.

This made him snort.
Part-time amateurs
.

He was a little more worried about his
fellow Gunslingers which would surely be taking off Oceana by now. But it didn’t
matter, he was almost within firing range.

Almost there
…

But the F-16s were coming fast! Jackman
checked his position. The city was down below him, just ahead.

He calculated his targeting parameters.
All
right
, he was within 12 nautical miles. He could do it.

Controlling his breathing, Jackman
flicked up the safety, zeroed in on his target, and activated the firing
switch, launching two AGM-65 Maverick air-to-ground missiles.

Right then, the alarm went off as his
Missile Approach Warning System – MAWS – detected an incoming attack. His
Hornet was locked on, the Air Force was shooting at him!

He couldn’t fight back, he was out of
missiles and rounds for the 20 millimeter guns.

Shit
.

He wasn’t exactly where he needed to be
but he was close enough. He reached for the ejection lever and pulled hard.

That canopy was instantly jettisoned and
then the Naval Aircrew Ejection Seat was fired into the air by a three-tubed
catapult, sending Jackman flying into the sky at a force of almost 13 Gs, going
over 250 miles per hour.

The main recovery parachute deployed from
the headrest and he stabilized just in time to watch his fighter jet explode below
him as it was struck by a Sidewinder missile.

Jackman was hurting all over from the
harness digging into his thighs and shoulders but he was happy to be alive. He
floated down toward the water of the Chesapeake Bay.

~  ~  ~  ~

The FBI Gulfstream was over Baltimore.

Everyone rushed to the windows as they
saw the explosion in the sky. They had caught glimpses of the dogfight before,
of Jackman killing his fellow VFA-105 pilots. But now they clearly saw the F-18
being shot down.

“We have confirmation,” the AWACS officer
announced. “Threat has been eliminated. But… wait… missile loose, missile
loose!”

“Say again,” General Pretlow said.

“Sir, we have bogeys heading
two-six-niner. Jackman launched two Mavericks before ejecting!”

Rick scanned the city. Baltimore’s Inner
Harbor was easy to spot thanks to the baseball stadium and the beautiful
waterfront. The convention center was right there.

It was about to be destroyed.

Without thinking, he ran down the aisle
toward the cockpit. “Steer the plane into the missiles!”

“What?!” Peter and the pilot both said at
the same time.

“If the missiles hit us first then the
folks on the ground will be fine.”

This was the only way to stop a massacre,
Rick knew it.

He tried entering the cockpit but
Vanstedum yanked him back.

“First, we’d never get there in time,”
the Assistant Director shouted. “And second, fuck you!”

Rick struggled against his grip but
couldn’t shake it off. His gaze returned to the window and the city of
Baltimore where the worst was going to happen.

~  ~  ~  ~

The phone rang and DSS Agent Kosler found
it odd. Until now, all communications had been through radio.

“Yes?” he spat as he answered, his eyes
on stragglers running out of the Sheraton.

“We just got word.” It was his superior
at headquarters. “You have to get the hell out of there!”

“What is it?”

“A fighter jet just fired missiles, they’re
coming your way.”

“Sweet Jesus…”

The young agent waved to him as he
escorted a blue-haired lady to the last bus.

“That’s the last one.”

Kosler ran toward him. “Okay, let’s go!
Start the bus!”

The driver didn’t need to be told twice
and shifted into gear. The bus was driving away gradually but Kosler wasn’t
there yet.

Suddenly, the rear emergency door opened
and his partner extended his arm.

“Come on, I got you!”

Kosler gave it everything he had, managed
to grab his hand, and he was helped into the bus, tumbling and crashing on top
of the other man.

“Thanks.”

He was breathless but safe. He couldn’t
believe he had made it. Over 25 years on the job and this was the worst moment
of his life.

And it wasn’t over.

“Oh God,” he whispered when he heard the
piercing shriek of the missiles.

He only had time to spot a white streak
in the sky before a gigantic explosion shook the ground and obliterated the
Baltimore Convention Center.

He could have told the driver to floor
it, ordered everyone to brace for impact, but he would have wasted his breath.
The huge rolling fireball caught up with them in an instant.

The explosion tore through the bus and
they were all blasted to pieces.

~  ~  ~  ~

“My God…” Peter Travis said as he looked
out of one of the Gulfstream’s portholes.

He was saying what was on everybody’s
mind. Rick unconsciously reached for Olivia’s hand and squeezed hard. How could
this be? How could something so awful happen?

Why hadn’t they been able to prevent it?

His idea about swerving into the incoming
missiles might have been harebrained but at least it was an attempt to do
something
.
How many people had died down there? It would be days until they found out.

The man aboard the AWACS came on the air.
“Sir, the rogue pilot is being rescued by what looks like a speedboat. I have
movement on the water.”

“Roger that,” the general said. “Continue
monitoring the zone, we have a SEAL team on the way.”

Petty Officer 1st Class Titus Albarn held
on tightly to the NSW RIB – the 11-meter Naval Special Warfare Rigid Inflatable
Boat. The small craft was cutting through the waves and fog of the Chesapeake
Bay. He had seven other people with him, everybody in combat gear.

He had barely been able to believe it
when the commander had briefed the team. There could be an attack on Baltimore
and they were needed to control the waters off the coast. There were
helicopters in the air, people monitoring the situation, but since SEALs were in
the area it was best that they be ready and on the scene if the worst came to
pass.

And it had.

They had seen – and definitely heard –
the explosions. Shit got real.

And now they had just been informed that
the traitor, that Lieutenant Jackman fighter pilot fuck, had ejected and was
being rescued by some other terrorists. Their mission was to catch them.

~  ~  ~  ~

Sagan was at the helm of the cigarette
boat. The bay was choppy and he couldn’t go as fast as the 3000-horsepower
engines could allow but at least he had recovered Jackman.

“We’re not going fast enough,” the
aviator pointed out.

“Relax, it won’t be long and we’ll be out
of here.”

The plan was going beautifully. The pilot
had fulfilled his end of the bargain. He had cut away from his formation and
fired missiles at the Baltimore Convention Center. Now that he had picked him
up, they would head for the coast.

There was a car waiting for them –
untraceable, of course – and they would drive up to Canada, crossing the border
into New Brunswick. From there they would drive to Nova Scotia and hop on a
freighter bound for North Africa. And if they had resistance, well, there were
options.

Willis had planned everything so
perfectly, like he always did.

“Oh shit!”

Both men were startled as a small black
boat leapt out of the fog and missed hitting them by mere inches. Where the
hell had they come from?

There were gunshots but they went wide.
Again, the water was too unstable for anyone to take steady aim. Jackman
discovered the same when he drew his sidearm and returned fire.

“They’re SEALs,” he said feebly as if he
wanted to convince himself that what he was seeing was real.

What were they doing here? How had they
gotten here so fast?

Sagan pushed the throttle but the Navy
boat kept up with them. The chase was on!

He tried to shake them, moving starboard,
then port, but these guys were good at maneuvering over the waves. And they
kept shooting their FN SCAR CQC carbines at them.

The upside was that the speedboat was
able to put some distance between them because of its incredible power. This
said, the sailors had more skills. Sagan succeeded at wedging at least 100
yards of space between them and the SEALs but he couldn’t outrun them.

No
, Sagan
thought, his jaw hardening with anger.
No, no, no!

The plan had been perfect! Why was this
happening to them? Willis was never wrong, it couldn’t end this way.

He turned to Jackman.

“We have no choice, time for Plan B.”

~  ~  ~  ~

The SEAL leader kept his binoculars on
the cigarette boat while his men fired. He wished they’d have their .50 caliber
machine gun but they hadn’t brought it along since this had been supposed to be
an exercise. Then…

What the hell?
The aviator – Jackman – was slipping an oxygen tank on his back.

“I want you guys in diving gear,” the CO
shouted to two of his men. “Looks like one of them is about to bail.”

The team had come equipped for all
eventualities. Titus put his weapon down and waddled over to the diving
apparatus. There wasn’t time to strip down in order to put on a wetsuit, they
had to go fast.

“The water’s going to be freezing,” Petty
Officer 2nd Class Guill said.

Only it wasn’t a warning, it was a taunt.
Titus extended his middle finger and tried not to smile.

It was bad form to take pleasure in
combat but special operators like him thrived on it. This was the only time he
ever felt alive. This was better than going to Disney World.

Silently, they distributed the equipment
among themselves: masks, oxygen tanks, flippers. Unfortunately, they couldn’t
bring their SCARs with them.

The speedboat rounded a tall yellow buoy.
That was the moment when Jackman slipped out of the boat and into the water.

“There, go get him!”

The Navy RIB sped up in that direction
and when they were close enough Titus and Guill fell backwards into the ocean.

~  ~  ~  ~

The two divers swam for all they were
worth although they didn’t have a visual on Jackman yet. The water was frigid
but at least it was an equal playing field, Titus concluded. It was just as
straining for the pilot.

Why had he jumped into the water here
anyway? Was there someone picking him up here? Did he have a sea scooter tied
under the buoy to escape? It was probably something along those lines.

They came closer to the buoy, which they
saw floating overhead, and stopped. Where was the guy? Was he hiding?

That’s when there was a ripple in the
water, Titus feeling a wave pushing him back.

He didn’t have time to turn around and
see Jackman. The naval aviator was right behind Guill and there was a knife in
his hand.

He slashed his throat.

~  ~  ~  ~

Aboard the RIB, the situation had
changed. The team leader analyzed the factors. It couldn’t be about containment
anymore. If this guy was able to reach the shore, he could get away.

A terrorist would escape unpunished.

“Get as close to him as you can,” he told
the operator at the helm. “We’re taking him out before he reaches solid ground.”

The kid nodded and gave it some speed.

The SEALs went faster and approached the
speedboat although they couldn’t quite get alongside of it. The men fired but
couldn’t inflict enough damage.

The commander turned to his XO. His rifle
was fitted with a FN40 grenade launcher.

“Do your thing.”

The man nodded and stretched himself
forward on the inflatable edge, gaining as much stability as possible.

~  ~  ~  ~

When Titus spun toward the movement it
was too late. He found the body of his friend Guill floating.

Lifeless.

Right then, Jackman rose up behind Titus.
He reached forward with his knife in one hand. With his other hand, he removed
the operator’s hose and mask.

“Hmmm!”

Titus was seized by a moment of panic.
You couldn’t fight if you didn’t have air to breathe. But he had training on
his side.

He managed to swim a stroke forward while
turning around. Jackman followed him so he could finish his job, the blade
catching what little light was coming through the water.

Without thinking, without letting his
fear get in the way, Titus grabbed Jackman’s knife-holding arm while
simultaneously he drew his HK MK23 pistol with his other hand.

Titus pushed his weapon forward until the
muzzle was tightly pressed against Jackman’s throat. Bullets don’t travel well
underwater but he counted on the point blank range to make up for it.

He pulled the trigger.

Jackman’s eyes widened at the unexpected
turn of events. His body went limp and his mouthpiece came loose. He was dead.

Titus ignored the blood leaking out of
Jackman’s mouth. He took his regulator and put it between his lips so he could
breathe again.

~  ~  ~  ~

Sagan was seeing black. He couldn’t feel
the cold wind against his face, the freezing air entering his lungs. He wanted
to destroy something, to kill someone with his bare hands.

Everything was going wrong, it couldn’t
be possible!

Willis had lied to him. He had told him
everything would be easy, everything would be perfect. But he had fucking lied
to him! He was just like the others, all the people who had used him in his
life. Like all those spineless politicians who told you what you wanted to hear
so you would obey them.

Why had it taken so long for him to
understand this?

Before he could make up his mind about
what to do next, he heard a faint thud. He turned his head and saw that a canister
had just landed in the boat.

He looked at the sailors behind him and
at the black object again.

It was a grenade.

~  ~  ~  ~

His mission over, Titus kicked his feet and
propelled himself up until he broke the surface. He was exhausted. He would
take a moment and then dive again to recover Guill’s body.

That’s when in the distance an explosion
ripped the speedboat apart.

This one’s for you, Guill
. It would be hell to announce his death to his girlfriend but at
least they had a small measure of solace. Divine justice.