Aftershock: A Donovan Nash Novel (A Donovan Nash Thriller) (19 page)

“The
Scimitar
can be controlled from the ground as long as it’s within line-of-sight range of the
Galileo
,” Donovan answered. “Maybe a thirty-mile radius.”

“Either way, we need the
Scimitar
in the air before ten o’clock.”

“I think the two of you should go out to the airport and assess the situation firsthand.” William put his fingertips together and lowered his head as he thought. “I’m also concerned about this business with the Learjet. Who are these people? Is there a way we can find out?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Donovan pulled out the pilot’s ID badge.

“You two go.” William took a deep breath and stood. “But be back here as quickly as you can. We’ll have to convince the woman and get everyone into position before the kidnappers call back. Donovan, it might be a good idea if your crew understands what’s at stake, and let them know that once we have Stephanie, we may need to leave the country in a hurry.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Donovan nodded as he and Buck headed toward the door. He turned toward Buck. “Let me tell Eva where I’m going, and I’ll join you at the elevator.”

Donovan slid his key into his lock, knocked lightly, and went inside. The bathroom door was wide open and Donovan could hear the shower running. He called her name and Eva opened the shower curtain and smiled. She shut off the water and reached for a towel. He turned away as she stepped out of the tub. “I wanted to tell you I’m going to the airport. I’ll be back in a little while. Stay in the room—don’t leave.”

“Are you sure it is safe for you to go back there?”

“It’s fine,” Donovan replied. She breezed out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and stood in front of him. Her freshly scrubbed skin glowed a soft bronze, her wet hair pulled straight back from her face. For the first time he saw the small tattoo at the base of her neck. Usually, he disliked tattoos, but the expertly crafted angel somehow seemed appropriate.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Eva asked, the look in her eyes made it clear there was an implied invitation.

“I’m sure,” Donovan leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “Right now, we need to focus on keeping you alive.”

Lauren squealed the tires on the Range Rover as she rounded the corner that led to the parking garage. There was no ticket to collect, so she stepped on the gas and they raced up to the top of the first incline. The silver Chrysler closed the distance once Lauren turned into the garage. Tires squealed as she made the turn and roared between two rows of parked cars. As she reached the end, she braked heavily, and made the sharp turn up the next incline, then stepped on the gas. Just before they reached the second level, Lauren stood on the brakes and stopped. Montero jumped out, slamming the door as she exited. Lauren sped up the rest of the ramp, turned, and brought the Range Rover to a sudden stop.

Moments later, the silver Chrysler rounded the corner and hit the brakes but was going too fast to stop in time. Lauren felt the impact, thankful it wasn’t enough to deploy the airbags. She held her pistol out of view behind her and stepped out into the garage. Lauren watched as the driver started to open his door.

As predicted, Lauren had their full attention and they never saw Montero racing up to the driver’s side window. Montero yanked open the door, reached in, grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head, and bounced his forehead off the steering wheel twice, then leveled her gun at the passenger.

Lauren moved closer, and in the relative quiet of the garage, she could hear Montero.

“Toss your weapons outside and put both hands behind your head.”

It wasn’t until Montero said the words that Lauren saw the passenger’s pistol.

In a blur, the man in the passenger seat pointed the pistol at Montero and fired. From where Lauren stood it sounded as if there were a single gunshot, but there were two muzzle flashes. The man slumped backward and Montero staggered sideways, her gun still up and ready.

“Ronnie, are you hit?” Lauren ran forward, pistol up, ready to fire. The amount of blood splatter inside the car and on Montero was shocking, and Lauren feared the worst.

“It’s not my blood.”

The man in the passenger seat was dead. Montero’s shot had hit him just above the left eye. The driver was slumped sideways in the car, the side of his head matted with blood.

“Damn it!” Montero snapped. “What a goddamned mess! That idiot shot at me and hit the driver instead—amateur.” Montero went to the driver and used the barrel of her gun to lift his chin enough to look at the man’s face. “Oh, Jesus!”

“What?”

“It’s Curtis Nelson, the guy from the Bureau.” Montero let his head drop back to his chest. “Maybe shooting his partner wasn’t an accident. If you have a mole inside the FBI and you’re about to get arrested, maybe you make sure your mole will never talk. Either way, we need to go.”

Lauren drove quickly but cautiously. They wound their way out of the garage into the sunshine. “How did everything back there go sideways so quickly?”

“Good question. We obviously surprised them, and they panicked and pulled weapons. I never saw Curtis’ face until after the shooting was over.”

“How bad is all of this?”

“Not good.” Montero fished in her pocket for her phone.

“Who are you calling?” Lauren asked.

“Director Graham. He needs to know what happened back there, and you and I need to get clear of this as fast as we can. Where are we, exactly?”

Lauren gave her the information, checking the mirror for cars that might be following them.

“Director Graham, it’s Montero. The parking garage of the Erickson-Lewis Building in Chantilly, Virginia, there’s a silver Chrysler sedan, two bodies. One of them is Curtis Nelson. They followed us, and when I went to have a chat, guns were pulled. It’ll all be in the security camera footage.”

Lauren could only imagine how Graham was taking the news.

“No, we left the scene for our own safety. I believe there may be others, and, due to the fact that part of this threat came from inside the Bureau, we’re going dark. We’ll provide our own security until we’re convinced you’ve eliminated the threat.”

Lauren was impressed with how Montero was handling the situation.

“We’re fine, thank you, Norman. I’ll be checking my e-mail, but no open phone lines.” Montero ended the call, turned off her phone, and slid the battery out, stuffing both into her pocket. “Hand me your phone, we need to shut it down, and then the next order of business is to find a place where I can clean up.”

“We’re headed back to my house. Your suitcase is there. I’ll pull into the garage, there’s a half-bath in that hallway. I’ll bring you your things. You can clean up and change. No one will see you.”

“We can’t stay at your house.”

“I know. Those people were following us with guns drawn, ready to shoot. I’m grabbing Abigail, and we’re going to a place that very few people know about. We’ll be safe there.”

Donovan ended his phone call with a small amount of frustration mixed with disappointment. He’d wanted to talk to Lauren, but his call had gone straight to voice mail. He quickly informed her that Stephanie was still alive, and that hopefully he’d have good news by tomorrow.

He hurried through the lobby and joined Buck in the Suburban to head to the airport. His next call was to tell Michael they were on their way. He also asked Michael if the Learjet was still parked on the ramp. Michael said no, they’d just reopened the airport, and he’d seen it take off only moments ago.

“We lost them,” Donovan said to Buck. “Michael says the Learjet just took off.”

“Can we find out where they went?” Buck asked. “Or more importantly—who chartered it in the first place?”

“Remember the handler who met us when we arrived? Those guys usually take care of all the private aircraft. I’m guessing he might be persuaded to talk.”

Buck swung the black SUV up to the USGS hangar. He left the motor running. “Give me the ID badge you took from the Learjet pilot. I’m going to go have a little chat with the handling agent. You go in and brief everyone, get things started. I shouldn’t be gone long.”

Donovan didn’t argue, extracting information from the handler was probably a job best left to Buck. He stepped out and went to find Michael. It didn’t take him long to find the entire
crew. They were huddled around the
Scimitar
, as if their entire purpose hinged directly on the experimental black aircraft. As he walked up, Donovan knew he was about to add another dimension to that concern.

“Donovan,” Michael said. “You’re just in time to hear the verdict on the
Scimitar.”

“We’ll get to the
Scimitar
in a minute,” Donovan said, as all eyes turned toward him. “I want to bring everyone up to date. Stephanie’s kidnappers have made contact. The exchange could happen as early as this evening, and, if it does, we’ll need to shift our airborne mission priorities away from the volcano.”

“What is it you need us to do?” Janie asked.

Donovan turned toward Professor Murakami and frowned as he saw what looked like water dripping furiously from the
Scimitar
. “How bad is it?”

“What you’re looking at, is the water from the last of the ice that formed when the liquid nitrogen line ruptured. It’s a small leak, but, unfortunately, I’ll have to purge the entire system. Once I do that, I can run a diagnostic and make sure nothing else is damaged. It’ll take me the rest of the night. But, hopefully, I can recharge the liquid nitrogen, and we’ll be able to fly again in the morning.”

“Here’s what I know right now,” Donovan repeated. “Buck thinks that the exchange will take place here in the city. We’ll be stretched pretty thin in terms of personnel, so the
Scimitar
is key. We need it airborne as soon as possible. It doesn’t need to fly through volcanoes—it just needs to fly.”

“You need the electronics, don’t you?” John asked. “If the
Scimitar
is orbiting overhead, we can track cars, people, whatever we want.”

“Exactly,” Donovan replied. “We need to get it in the air before they call us back. Things will probably start moving quickly once we begin.”

“If I seal off the liquid nitrogen system, I can run a quick diagnostic to make sure everything else is working,” Murakami
said with a shrug. “If there aren’t any other problems, I can probably have it ready to go in two hours.”

“Get to work, then.” Donovan said, then turned to Michael. “Have the
Galileo
ready to go. We may want to get out of here in a hurry once we have her.”

“What else can we do?” Malcolm asked, his arm wrapped protectively around his wife’s shoulders. “Do you know for sure that Stephanie is still alive?”

“The kidnappers know we’re going to want proof of life before we make any kind of exchange. Once we know for sure—everything will start.”

“Mr. Nash,” John asked, “do we know if Guatemalan air traffic control is going to let us orbit the city? I mean, to really do this right, I’ll need to be able to maneuver the
Scimitar
wherever I want. I’m going to have to work on specific angles to keep the target in sight. I did this in the Air Force. The trick is not to allow any buildings or structures to obscure the view of the target. Depending on what happens, we can’t be restricted, or we could lose sight of our subject.”

“Let me take care of that part,” Michael said. “I’ll tell them it’s a test flight. They already know we came in with a problem earlier. There’s also very little traffic in the area due to the volcano. It’ll be fine. Besides, what are they going to do? Shoot it down?”

“John, given the type of flying you just described, how long can you stay airborne?” Donovan asked.

“We don’t have the endurance of the military model due to all the modifications, but I’d say we have a solid ten hours.”

Donovan tried to picture the mission in his mind. “If we’re simply flying over the city, waiting, you can control it without the Gulfstream being airborne, right?”

“Sure,” John nodded. “All I need is line of sight. Without the satellite interface, it’s the best I can do. To be on the safe side, I’m probably good for a twenty-mile radius around the airport. If we need to go farther than that, it’d be better if we launched
Galileo
.”

“I understand,” Donovan replied. “If Buck is right, then the kidnappers will want to do all this in the city. It makes sense—they’re locals, familiar with the town. We’re the outsiders.”

“Where is Buck?” Michael asked.

“He’ll be along shortly.”

“We better start to work,” Murakami said, as he turned to his toolbox.

“It sounds like we might be in for a long evening,” Lillian said. “Maybe Malcolm and I should order food for everyone.”

“Good idea.” Donovan felt encouraged by everyone’s willingness to do what they could. His thoughts circled back to Eva, and he wondered how willing she’d be? “Lillian, before you do that, what’s happening with the volcano? I know that borrowing the
Scimitar
has left you in the dark. Do you think another day will make much of a difference?”

“Mr. Nash, for all I care, the volcano can erupt to hell and back right now,” Lillian replied, her grim tone leaving no doubt she was serious. “The area has been cleared as much as possible. There’s not anything we can really do beyond that—I think we’ve already helped minimize the loss of life, which is the main thing. My only concern is for you to get Stephanie back. The volcano can wait.”

“As soon as this is over, I promise Eco-Watch’s full support for your research,” Donovan said.

Buck let himself into the office. “Did I miss anything?”

“That was quick,” Donovan replied. “How did it go?”

“Our handler isn’t the most discreet person I ever met, plus he’s greedy, and can be bribed. The Learjet was chartered by a company out of Mexico City—
MSX Comunicaciones
—they own a dozen or more radio stations and newspapers in Mexico. He says they come in twice a month or so. I passed this along to William, so he can initiate a search and find out who’s actually chartering the jet, and maybe even why.”