Lucky II (Patten Bodyguards Book 6) Page 5

  “Ah yes. I’ve been told I can be difficult. The best thing to do is to ask me direct questions. Let me start. How can I help you?” Avatar eyes blink, blink while Suds thinks.

  “Why do you think the terrorists want access to the Blue Plains tunnel?”

  “The most likely answer is the tunnel runs near the Capitol Building. It is also an excellent way to push information, prostitutes, or drugs from Southern Washington DC into the central part of the city, nearer the White House. Without more data, I cannot be certain.”

  Blink, blink.

  I mutter. “I fucking wish I could have one goddamned sign she’s alive.”

  Jason sits down at his desk and begins to type, brows creased. “Give me a moment, Lochlan.”

  “Call me Lucky.”

  “One moment, Lucky.”

  “How come he can call y’all by your nickname without asking?” Suds grumbles, sips his coffees and studies the jet’s interior.

  “I didn’t threaten to kill it.” I try to catch his gaze but he’s been avoiding eye contact with me since lift off.

  “Not your fault, mate.” I address the elephant in the room and in the silence the chasm between us grows enormous.

  He stares into his brew. “The hell you say. I was supposed to be guarding them. Rookie mistake. I knew there was a door between the buildings. I even checked it when we first got there but seeing how it was locked, never went downstairs again. It was four guys against one.”

  “Four? I thought there was two.” I wander back to the machine for another cup of joe and he follows.

  “No one told you? The staff was in on it, too. When you left, the chef called me into the kitchen and the waiter was hiding behind the swinging door. He knocked me flat with a frypan and the chef had a knife. I almost had them pinned down until those other two asshats showed up. One of the motherfuckers shot me so I dragged myself into the freezer and put a leg of lamb in the handle to keep them out. Unfortunately, the unit locks from the outside. If Callie hadn’t saved my sorry ass, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”

  “Wait, Grayson himself vetted the staff, said they were legit.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. However, the FBI found the real chef and waiter tied up in an alley behind the building.”

  “Shit, I was there with you. I didn’t notice either. This wasn’t your fault.”

  “Copy that.” He nods but with eyes downcast and voice sad, I don’t think he believes it.

  “If it’s anyone fault, it’s mine. If not for me, Callie would be teaching at MIT or some Ivy league school. She wanted to change the world, to convince industry to make EMF safer. I wanted her close, working for the same company as me.”

  “Can’t blame you for that.”

  Suds pats my back and we both look to the screen when Jason speaks.

  “I have located Calliope, gentlemen.” The avatar disappears and in his place is a photo of a toilet seat with writing on it.

  Knees weak, I drop into a chair, spilling coffee on my lap. “My God. Is that blood?”

  Jason reappears in a small window in the lower right-hand corner of the screen. “I am ninety-three-point-five percent certain it was written with Calliope James’ fingertip. I have contacted the FBI and am awaiting their response.”

  “Fuck me.” If I wasn’t so scared, I’d be damn proud of my girl.

  Suds shakes his head. “Your wife is smart. Must’ve written it, then put the seat down.”

  “Still, what if they’d seen her do it?” A shudder wracks my body as I step closer to the monitor and study. “Jason, who shot this photo and where?”

  “A young woman emailed it to the local police just south of Camden.”

  “Where the hell is that?” Suds downs his coffee and pours another, eyes on the screen.

  Google Maps pops onto the monitor where a red dot blinks due east of Philadelphia.

  Jason says, “She should arrive in Washington, DC at eleven thirty-six.”

  I pace, my ability to think gone to hell. My wife had a dangerous head wound. People die from a whole lot less.

  Without warning, Suds grabs my shoulder, his eyes wide. “Did Callie ever learn how to shut off the EMF in the Blue Plains tunnel?”

  “Fook me. She might have but by now her access has been revoked. Those government boys are fucking serious about locking down usernames and passwords.”

  “Shit. I’m telling you, that’s got to be why they’re dragging her to DC. Otherwise, they’d have asked for money by now.” He stops to watch my face, no doubt worried how I’ll react but I’m miles ahead of him.

  “Jason, what systems in the tunnel are connected to the internet?”

  “Cameras, oxygen, and lights. Would you like me to give you access?”

  The avatar appears perfectly calm while my mouth drops open. “Holy fuck! Are you shitting me? Those controls are encrypted with the highest standards.”

  Jason steps closer, his young confused face taking up most of the screen. “I cannot eliminate waste. What is your question?”

  I put my nose to the monitor, even as I realize it can’t meet me eye to eye. “Are you saying you can hack into the Blue Plains’ control panel?

  “Yes.”

  Before I can ask how, Grayson breaks into our conversation and appears on the screen. “Suds? Lucky? I’m here with the FBI. They’ve asked me to assure you Callie’s their highest priority. Jason sent us everything. We’re close, real close to bringing her home.”

  Chapter 9

  Calliope

  “Get up.” A bare bulb shines overhead and Ms. Mousy wakes me with a rough shake.

  Huh? I squint into the empty, desolate bedroom. Maybe I’m still asleep, having one of those never-ending nightmares.

  “Dress and be quick about it.” She throws a uniform on top of my blankets, swivels on her heel, and I jump out of bed.

  “Wait? Bathroom?” I grab the clothes, walk to the door, and follow her down the hall.

  In the bathroom, I pee, check under the sink, the vanity, and the closet. There’s a window but it won’t budge. Time is running out.

  After dressing, I’m taken to the van, feeling my way in the dark. The engine starts, headlights go on, and a blue glow in the dash reads 3:00 AM. Tony Soprano’s look-alike drives us past the Lincoln Center, the Washington Monument, and turns onto a highway along the Potomac.

  Two, huge black towers loom in the distance, backlit by the city. Atop, small red beacons twinkle, keeping air traffic at bay. This is our destination, the water treatment plant. Far below, is the entrance to the Blue Plains tunnel.

  When we near the facility, the woman hands me a cell phone. “Enter your husband’s number.”

  I type, hand it back to her, and she presses dial. With the phone to her ear, the van pulls into the lot. Hopefully, this trio will make a mistake soon or I’m as good as dead.

  Even with the volume down, my husband’s shout carries throughout the interior of the van. “Oi? Who the fuck is this?”

  My heart leaps, and I smile.

  Ms. Mousy grimaces, her pallor gray in the phones light. “You have exactly five minutes, Mr. James. Text me the username and password for The Blue Plains control panel. Call no one. If anything goes wrong, I have no reason to keep your wife alive.”

  “Let me talk to her.” His voice goes low and dangerous.

  “You have five minutes.” She pulls the phone away from her ear, her finger poised over the hang-up icon.

  “No proof of life, no password.”

  Mousy frowns, lips drawn tight as she glares at me. “How about her screams when I rip your child from her belly? Will that be good enough?”

  Without thinking, I grab the woman’s hand and shout into the phone. “Lucky, do as she says.”

  Mousy pulls back her hand and the slap to my cheek is so hard I fall into the window but I don’t care. He knows I’m alive.

  Chapter 10

  Lucky

  Half-asleep, Suds, me, and a bunch of FBI age
nts camp out at the Blue Plains treatment plant for hours. When the phone rings, I jump a mile.

  “Hello? Oi, who the fuck is this?” I promised the negotiator I’d keep my cool but my mouth didn’t get the memo. I won’t be able to think straight until I know she’s okay.

  ‘Lucky, do as she says.”

  Thank Christ. She’s alive. Tears stinging, my throat tight, I answer the woman slowly. “I have to get back to you. I don’t have it.”

  “Now, you have four minutes.” She hangs up.

  When the call ends, the G-man listening in looks up from his laptop. “They’re close.”

  “Close? That’s not very fookin’ accurate, is it mate?” I clench my fists, needing to punch something or someone until Suds pulls me away.

  “Y’all need to calm down. We got a plan. Stick with it.”

  “Get me the fucking password, now.”

  My boss, Slate, and the AI unit have been in my earphones since we exited the jet. My chat window beeps with an incoming message from Jason and I text the password to the number that just called.

  What a fucking shit show. If I had my way, I’d let those motherfuckers shut down the fuckin’, tunnel, then shoot them all. Game over. Piece of piss.

  Unfortunately, we’re talking terrorism and the government boys want to catch the big turds, not only the floaters.

  Since hearing they’re letting the kidnappers go, I’ve not been the most amicable of Aussies. In fact, some might say I’m downright hostile. Who the fuck uses a fucking pregnant woman as bait?

  I pace glaring at everyone and everything in the room. Thank God, Grayson made the EMF generator inaccessible from the internet. The only way to shut it down is from where I’m standing.

  Chapter 11

  Callie

  “Say nothing. Do nothing.” Ms. Mousy-bitch points the driver to the visitor’s parking in the almost half-mile lot of the treatment plant.

  My neck cranes as I climb out of the van. Two thirty-story cement cylinders tower over my head. In front, metal rocket ships with pipes for arms, stand at full attention.

  “If you delay us in any way, you’re dead. Understand?” She glares at me, then does the same to the two men with her who haven’t said boo since last night.

  As our footsteps echo on the empty lot, I wonder if their reticence can be used to my advantage. By the main entrance, adrenaline pumps when a man in a well-worn hardhat follows us into the building.

  Do I dare shout, catch his eye?

  Mousy shoots me a deadly glare and digs into her purse. “Just a moment, I need my ID card. I know it’s in here.”

  She smiles sweetly at the worker, “Go ahead.”

  The guy’s got ghastly bruises and I almost don’t recognize him. With his chin tucked into his blue work shirt, he turns his head so only I can see him wink.

  Suds? He’s alive?

  My first impulse is to hug him but a small shake of his head brings me quickly to my senses. Shifting my gaze down, I force my mind to calm.

  “Here it is.” My kidnapper pushes me forward, grinning like we’re best of friends “Thanks for waiting. You first.”

  I may puke.

  When the first swipe of my card fails, I shoot her a worried glance. Maybe, this ends here. At the second swipe, the light turns green and we pass by a security guard who pays us no mind.

  Mousy leads, I’m in the middle, and the two Sopranos pull up the rear. We traverse down a long hall, turn left, and descend many steep flights of escalators.

  At the bottom, Mousy-Bitch passes her badge across another sensor, a door opens, and inside is a roomful of controls I’ve only seen once or twice.

  Where the hell are the guys?

  She hands a guard some official looking paperwork and he studies it for so long, I figure this is it.

  My heart drops into my stomach when he nods and says, “How long you need?”

  “About an hour.” Her smile reminds me of the dentist when he says this won’t hurt at all.

  I’m about to despair until he catches my eye and raises a brow before disappearing, leaving me with the three desperados.

  “Log in.” Mousy has her knife out again.

  Shaking, I press my thumb onto a small square. With no alarms and no cavalry to the rescue, type in my password and nothing happens.

  “What’s wrong?” Her eyes flick from me, to the door, to the two henchmen.

  If the three were any closer, they’d be sharing my uniform. “Could you back that knife up a little, give me some breathing room?”

  “Sure.” The woman puts away her knife and pulls a gun from under her jacket.

  “Please, give me a second.” I type in my password, waiting for the error message.

  When the main menu miraculously appears, I let go my breath, then the panel goes blank.

  What the fuck?

  Mousy gets a text, then smiles. “My men in the tunnel say the EMF is off. Well done.”

  Huh? I didn’t do anything.

  Then, Tony S. gags me, ties me to some metal shelving, and then places what looks like tan clay onto the control panel. On top of this, Mousy places a bunch of electronics wired to the guts of a phone. I’ve watched enough action flicks to recognize a C-4 bomb when I see one.

  Even though I’m about to die, I can’t help but wonder why.

  So, as they exit the control room, I call out, “Why? What do you want with the tunnel?”

  She laughs, almost pretty in an evil kind of way. “I guess it doesn’t matter if I tell you. The new tunnel runs only a few blocks from The Capitol. From there, it’s a hop skip and a jump to The White House. Get it? Bye now. It was very nice meeting you.”

  The door shuts with a solid clunk and except for the C-4, I’m left completely alone in the control room.

  Chapter 12

  Lucky, a few minutes ago…

  “She saw me. We’re good to go.” Suds removes his hardhat and slaps me on the back. “Hang in there, pal. She’s as good as free.”

  One Feddie leads us downstairs and another says in my comm unit, “They’ve stopped in the control room.”

  “Copy that. Ready.” The FBI team leader turns over his shoulder and glares my way.

  Yeah, yeah. He took a chance letting me come along but he has to know I won’t fuck up this mission. My wife’s life is at stake.

  Seconds tick by, each like a millennium as we hide one door down from the control room,

  “She’s entered the password. We’re shutting everything down.” Slate’s calm voice sounds in my comm unit followed by The FBI’s acknowledgement.

  “Copy that.”

  Fans, engines, air conditioning… everything stops leaving only a buzz from the emergency lights. Even the chatter in my headset halts.

  A woman mutters from behind the control room door then rushes out into the hall followed by two goons. As planned, they walk right by us in the dark.

  Suddenly, my headset explodes with directives. The B team will follow the terrorists. I hold back until I know they’re out of earshot. Then, disobeying all orders, I rush into the control room.

  My wife is alive and so fucking beautiful, for a moment, I’m blinded with tears.

  When I loosen her gag, she shouts. “C-4! On the shelving.”

  Standing nearest, the FBI lead sounds the alarm which echoes in my comm unit. “Clear the building. Get the bomb squad stat. C-4 with a phone detonator in the control room.”

  “Fook, me.” Closest to the device, I examine the brown clay sitting on a metal shelf, about eye level.

  For the first time in a couple hours, Jason speaks, and I breathe a little easier. “I have disabled cell service in the area but you must move closer, Mr. James.”

  I lean in, my helmet camera almost touching the bomb. “Good enough?”

  “Yes. Pull the red wire.” The fucking avatar wants me to disarm a bomb?

  What if it’s wrong? Me, my wife, my kid, and a roomful of agents will die.

  “Do what he says
Lochlan! Now, now, now!” Instinctively, I respond to Dr. Jones’ terror, and yank the cable.

  Suspended in time, the whole room holds their breath, waiting as the front panel of the cell phone fades to black.

  “Unfucking believable.” I wipe the sweat from my brow, pull my knife from my boot, and cut my wife’s hand ties.

  Then, I pull her into my thumping heart while she sobs.

  Jason is the first to speak. “Well done, Mr. James. Now, I understand why they call you Lucky.”

  I wipe a sleeve across my face. “Is that supposed to be funny, mate?”

  Dr. Jones chuckles in my headset. “I think it was an honest observation.”

  Male laughs follow. Then, Callie reaches her hands behind my head, drags my mouth to hers, and kisses me until I forget everything and everyone else.

  When we come up for air, I check the top of her head and run my hands up and down her body. I gaze into the unending sea of her blue eyes, willing the truth from her.

  “Are you hurt, luv?”

  She shoots me the loveliest smile I’ve ever fucking seen. “I’m fine. Just a little banged up.”

  I kneel and kiss her belly, where she couldn’t fully button the uniform. “And how’s our little roo?”

  I’m rewarded with a couple of baby kicks to my lips. Fuck if it doesn’t make my throat tight again. I need my wife home but one step at a time. Off my knees, I wrap my arm around her waist, and exit in the opposite direction of her kidnappers.

  “We should get you to a hospi, luv.” I flip on my comm unit. “Team leader, I’m taking Callie to Georgetown.”

  “Copy that,” the FBI special agent responds. “But we’ll need to talk to her soon.”

  Callie clutches onto my waist, and leans her head into my chest. “I’d rather go home.”

  “Shush. We will, real soon. I promise.”

  Arm and arm, I walk her out of the control room, back down the hall, and up the escalators. At the top, Suds gives her a hug while Patten employees and FBI agents cheer.

  Outside, I ignore the ambulances in the parking lot, open my passenger side door, and gently sit her down. When she’s all buckled in, I kiss her repeatedly and thank God I got her back safely. When we finish, there’s tears dripping down our cheeks.