True Honor (34 page)

Darcy hit Rewind to play the segment back again.
I’ve already blown our best shot to get them, Lord. What’s the second best option? What am I missing?
“Breakfast. No one brought breakfast up for Luther this morning.”

“Good. He may stop at a favorite restaurant.”

“A helicopter pad. He won’t fly by plane from here. He’d want to transfer to another island before creating a paper trail because Renee is still here. Tourist charters. Didn’t Sergey say that Luther had bought an island and a hotel or an island and a charter service, something like that?”

Gabriel smiled. “He’s been ducking us by lingering in the one place we knew he avoided: among tourists.”

It was a lead, but how did she get her hands around it given there was no time? “Do you have an idea how many charter services provide helicopter tours within this area?”

The hotel room door opened and Tom and Sam joined them. Gabriel pointed at Tom. “I need some information fast. How many helicopters are departing this island airspace
right now
?”

Tom grabbed the secure satellite phone to DIA to set up a picture relay from the nearest surveillance flight. “It’s probably faster just to go on the roof and count them.” Tom reached for the case of cables to get the hi-res screen changed over to the satellite feed.

Darcy grabbed binoculars. “I agree.” She headed toward the door.

Sam got to the door first and held it for her. They ran toward the stairs.

“If Luther’s already in the air, he can get far enough ahead he can land, change transportation, and melt away on us. We either figure out which flight to chase or this is over.”

She broke into bright sunlight on the roof with Sam on her heels. There were numerous planes in the sky. In her first 360-degree pivot, Darcy counted nine helicopters airborne.

“Give me names, Darcy,” Gabe asked over the security circuit.

It was hard to read the words even with powerful binoculars that could pick out details up to half a mile away. “Ashburn Flights, something Hafford.”

“Whitcomb Charters, Sea & Air,” Sam added.

“Dar, look for Paradise Flights!” Gabriel broke in. “Two men, the limousine driver remembers the golf clubs, and one had a Russian accent. They are only a precious few minutes ahead of us. Tom, are our guys in the air yet? We need an intercept.”

“They’re on it,” Tom replied over the communication link.

Sam pointed to a helicopter. “Two o’clock, Darcy. It’s got a scripted
P
and a rainbow-painted stripe on the side.”

“Heading?”

“East,” Sam replied to his partner. “You should be able to look out the window and see it. I put it just past the marina.”

“Got it, Chief. Paradise with a scripted
P.”

“Dar, we’ve got confirmation,” Gabe called. “The receptionist at Paradise Flights confirms the faxed photos are them. The flight just took off. She noticed them because one of the two men was allowed to act as his own pilot, which is rare. It’s a day booking; there isn’t a filed flight plan. They aren’t required between island hops.”

The helicopter exploded in midair.

Darcy watched stunned, as burning pieces of the helicopter rained down on the water. “What was
that
?”

“A Stinger. Fired from along the flightpath of the helicopter,” Sam answered.

“Gabriel, was that us?” Darcy asked.

“I swear it wasn’t. We don’t have Stingers in-country. I’m looking out the window at the same thing you are.”

“Someone knew his destination.” Sam lowered his binoculars. “Dar, someone was already ahead of Luther and Vladimir; someone knew their plans.”

This didn’t make sense. “Sergey’s friends?”

“If it was, they were well connected. Someone had to have literally phoned ahead the moment the helicopter lifted off to allow such a quick setup and shoot.”

“Is there any possibility this is a trick? a diversion?”

“I’m asking the same questions, Darcy,” Gabe replied. “Or maybe his explosives buyer didn’t like leaving a loose end who knew their plans.”

“We need to get out to the site.”

Sam pointed out to sea. “We’re already there.” While she watched, two helicopters began to circle the crash site. “They’ll recover whatever they can of the debris.” Sam touched her arm. “Come on, let’s get downstairs, collect gear, and get out there.”

She took one long last look, lowered her binoculars, and headed after Sam. Luther was dead, but this had ended wrong. It really felt wrong.

* * *

Sam held the roof stairwell door for Darcy, then moved fast down the stairs. Ticking through his mind was the memory of the flight of that missile. He and Wolf could track down the location of the shot if they moved fast. It had been a well-executed attack, and there had to be at least two people involved. Someone called ahead Luther’s travel plans to the guy waiting with that missile. Who had that kind of access to Luther’s plans? Vladimir. Who alive had that kind of access to Luther’s plans?

Sam held the door to the hotel room for Darcy. “Wolf, we need a communication case, diving equipment, and a good map of the area. Let’s see what we can find while the trail is there.”

His partner handed Major Hamilton his binoculars and stepped away from the window. “The hotel should be able to arrange the diving equipment. How many air tanks?”

“Make it eight sixty-minute cylinders to give us some margin. Gabe, what do you have on Paradise Flights and the limo driver? Someone had to alert the shooter they were taking off.”

“And, Gabriel, the guy who fired the Stinger has to leave the area somehow. We need the airports covered,” Darcy added, heading over to join Major Hamilton.

The window shattered.

Sam dove across the room tackling Darcy and rolling her toward the wall. Wolf was down, but it was the hollow thud of the impact and the blood on the floor that told him the major bought it. “Wolf?”

“Breathing,” his partner gasped. “It punched through him and into me.”

Sam rolled onto his back, looking up at the window and the explosive pattern of the shot. A low-velocity high-caliber round, for he hadn’t heard that distinct snap as it broke the sound barrier. The sniper was a good shooter—the major had been struck between the eyes.

Jerry
.

“Stay down,” Sam ordered Darcy, pushing her down as she tried to turn.
“Please.”
They were lying on glass, but he couldn’t let her move until he got this sorted out. He elbow crawled his way across the room. “How are you doing, Gabriel?” The man was sweating, his color wasn’t good, but he was reaching up to the desk to get his radio mike.

“The doctor warned me against falling like this. What’s the plan?”

A sniper focused on this hotel room . . . ducking was a pretty good plan. “I don’t care how quiet that sniper gets, he’s sitting out there watching and waiting. Tell everyone even remotely connected to this to enter into the hotel only through the back and under cover. Wolf and I are heading to the roof to try and spot this guy.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in any shape to take that assignment,” Wolf whispered, as Sam leaned over him.

The bullet had killed the major and then hit Wolf high on the shoulder. Sam yanked two pillowcases free and folded them into a thick bandage. “You’ll be fine.” Sam held his friend’s gaze. “I need your eyes.”

Wolf tried to smile. “Okay, but you’re carrying me up those stairs.”

“Darcy—” Sam tightened the belt securing the bandage as Wolf groaned—“you’ll have to figure out a way to get Gabe to the hall without standing, crouching, or otherwise getting far off the floor.”

“I’ve got that part down.”

“And stay away from that outside wall; a bullet can punch through it.” Sam grabbed Wolf’s good hand and pulled him back toward the hall. Only when they were well back from line of sight to the windows did Sam take a deep breath, stand, and pull his partner up. Wolf leaned against the wall for balance, sucking in air. Sam kept a tight hold and waited until he stopped swaying.

“Get the cases,” Wolf said.

“I’ll get a doctor up to the roof.”

“You better believe it, and a pillow and about a dozen energy bars.”

Sam tapped his fist against his partner’s clenched hand and moved.

The assault team had a lockbox for the gear, and Sam left the cases secured there and spun the padlock. Darcy had crawled to join Gabe after she had paused long enough to cover Major Hamilton. He should have at least done that for her. Sam tossed aside the padlock and pulled out the hard cases with his sniper rifle and Wolf’s spotter gear. “How’s Gabriel doing?”

“I’m fine.”

“He badly hurt his back,” Darcy replied. “Be careful, Sam. Please.”

“Promise.” He looked at her, in pain at the sight of her in this place with shattered glass and blood on the floor. “I’ve gotta go.”

“I know.”

“I love you.” He turned and headed to join Wolf.

* * *

As he moved to the corner of the hotel, Sam felt the heat of the roof through the heavy gear he wore from the morning’s assault. The sniper rifle could let him hit a dime at a thousand yards. They just had to find where to put the shot. He let Wolf have the only point of shade on the roof in the shadow of an industrial-size air conditioner. Sam could shoot the dime, but Wolf was best at finding the dimes. They worked as a team.

“Where do you think this guy is going to perch?”

“As high as he can get without risking an obvious sniper perch,” Sam said. “He’ll trust his skills to make the less optimal place his choice.”

As Sam began to scan with the rifle, Wolf raised the powerful glasses. “He’s already got his cave. He’ll be sitting far back in one of those facing hotel rooms with the window open, and we’ll never see him until he fires again.”

“I know.” Sam had meant it when he once demonstrated to Darcy how hard it was to stop a sniper once he or she got into position. “But he’ll want to watch the street as well as the hotel room we used as a command center. He’ll want to be watching this roof. It’s not his sniper skills that will give him away; it’ll be his decision not to disengage.”

“We’ll need security men sweeping those rooms.”

Tom’s breathing was becoming labored. The doctor needed to get here soon or they would have to disengage from the search to get him help. “We just need a glimpse. I can hit him with the first shot. Time is on his side, not ours. Find us that break.”

“If this is Jerry, why did he stay?”

“We take him alive and I’ll ask him. Maybe he simply got mad that we marred his perfect track record and got his boss killed, and he’s trying to rebuild his reputation the same day he lost it. The guy always was a little off-balance.”

Concrete chipped and flew up beside him. Sam snapped the rifle back to his left, instinctively tracking back to the source of the shot, ignoring the fact he was under fire. “A west corner hotel window, something high.”

“Third floor down from the roof.”

The opposing sniper rifle sight reflected sunlight and Sam pulled the trigger.

“Maybe,” Wolf said, watching for any signs it had impacted.

Sam chambered another round. “Wait him out.”

A shot shattered through a window in the room below them, and Sam’s heart stopped. Someone had come to the window at the sound of the first gunshots and just gotten shot. This time Sam saw the muzzle flash. The sniper had moved too far forward. He fired.

“Hit.”

“Darcy!” Sam yelled on the communication net.

“I’m here; I’m fine,” her shaky voice replied. “It was a police officer who got too close and was grazed. Did you get the shooter?”

“Maybe. Stay down.”

Wolf worked the radio to guide the Brits to the right hotel room to search.

Five minutes later a British sniper appeared at the suspect’s window. The radio cracked. “The sniper is dead; it looks like your Jerry. And he’s got enough explosives here to blow up this hotel. I’d say he had a sample from that shipment.”

Sam lowered the rifle.

“That was shaving things a bit too close,” Wolf said.

Sam looked at his partner. “Hey, we both got out of this alive.”

The doorway to the roof slowly opened and several men from the assault team moved cautiously onto the roof. Sam spotted Darcy and motioned her to join them.

This operation was finally over.

Twenty-Nine

* * *

AUGUST 21

Wednesday, 10:45 a.m.

Pierre Hotel / Nassau, New Providence Island, Bahamas

The hotel conference room had become their new headquarters. It had acquired a set of encrypted phones and computers taken from Luther and Vladimir’s rooms, and even one ruggedized laptop recovered from the helicopter crash site, found in Luther’s luggage in a secure waterproof case. The laptop was proving to be Luther’s brain trust for his operation. Darcy translated the Russian documents for the man beside her, struggling to keep her focus on the present and not the gunshots of two days ago.

“The explosives were destined for oil refinery attacks against the complex in northern Idaho and the gas pipeline coming from Winnipeg, Canada, down through North Dakota. There are no dates, but there are travel documents. From these notes it looks like Luther helped with some of the fake permits needed to get that explosives shipment into Canada. The terrorists were going to come into Vancouver and then drive them into the U.S. Look at the dates on these files. He’s been working on this plan for months.”

Darcy drank more coffee, trying to stay alert. There weren’t many fluent Russian translators available, so she was going hoarse trying to read while an agent annotated Luther’s notes. There was keen interest in knowing which terrorist cells this information would help them stop before they could act. At least grabbing the shipment of explosives the military was tracking could disrupt this mission against gas refining capabilities.

Sam joined her and replaced the cup of coffee with a glass of ice water and held out two aspirin. “How many directories are on that computer?”

She gratefully took them. “There are fifteen folders in this section for missions; Luther was methodical in his planning. He was much more deeply involved in the planning than we realized. The financial folders number in the hundreds. When is your team going after the shipment?”