Ever Hayes - Redemption

“No. I just found out it happened a couple days ago. They didn’t find anyone. But it wasn’t the Libyans that shot him down. It’s complicated.” He read my mind. “There was a heavy storm, and they say no one escaped the plane. The ships didn’t find anyone. They say no one survived. But…”

It was too much information to process right away. I had more questions but couldn’t yet put them in words. “But you told me he was coming.”

“I know. That’s what they told me.”

The tears began to fall. They were running down my cheeks. I wiped them away as I continued to listen to Lazzo. “So… why did you—why did they?” I could see his face clouded with infinite emotions. I knew he didn’t know what this meant for him either.

“Hayley… I don’t know what it means, but Danny’s tracker is still active…it’s still active today—and it’s still coming this way. He could still be—”

“Wait, what?” I wiped my face again. “He’s being tracked? So he’s not dead?”

It was obvious Lazzo felt like he was saying too much. He nodded and shook his head, almost simultaneously. “I don’t know. I do know we—they still have someone tracking him, yes.”

“So he’s not dead?” Just answer my question.

Lazzo shrugged. “It could be someone else with his tracker. But because of that tracker they haven’t written him off. The exchange is still a go—I still have the same deadline to get the information to the Libyan commander in Denver. His contacts in Los Angeles told him the plane was shot down and that two of the three people on the plane being tracked disappeared. And Boli’s Hawaiian source confirmed the only tracker still on is Danny’s.”

Lazzo was waiting for me to interrupt him, but I didn’t. I listened. “Anyway, the Libyan commander knows I’m trying to get to him—he even knows I’m close—but he doesn’t know how or if I actually will. As long as Danny’s tracker keeps showing him coming this way, I think we’re okay. But if Danny’s beacon stops or disappears, I don’t know what he’ll do. Far as I know, the commander has kept his word. Far as I know, my family is still alive. The girls back at that house, too. He wants the book—all to himself—so he’s trying to be patient… He doesn’t want to give up on this anymore than we do.”

“But?”

Lazzo held up his hand. “He is not a patient man. Before Danny’s plane went down, Danny communicated a message back to Hawaii urging them not to write him off. Danny knows he’s being watched—or at least monitored. It’s possible…”

“It’s possible what ?” Hope was surging through me.

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t say anything else. Right now Commander Boli thinks the book is still coming. That’s all we need. For now—”

“Lazzo.” I pointed at the radar screen. A bright red dot had moved onto the northeast corner of the screen and was quickly heading in our direction.

“Shut it down.”

I killed the power on the radar immediately. “Do you think they saw us?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know, but that is definitely a plane.”

“Your phone call?”

“Probably. They must have tracked the direction. They couldn’t have had time to be more precise.”

“Are you sure? How far away were you?”

“Three… three and a half miles maybe. Maybe four… maybe less.” There was no confidence in his voice.

We could hear the rumble of an airplane approaching. It didn’t pass directly overhead but close enough to where we could see the back door open and the sky fill with paratroopers. We counted twenty-eight soldiers falling through the sky. “Shit, shit, shit…” I mumbled.

The door to the hangar swung open—scaring the crap out of me—and I turned to look at Flynn as she dropped a rabbit on the floor. “Did you see that?” There was panic in her voice. “Hayley, what do we do?”

I looked at Lazzo. “Why are they searching for us if they think you’re still keeping your word?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

His stunned expression indicated he was being truthful. “Lazzo—”

“I don’t know, Hayley.” There was panic in his voice now too. “Maybe they think I have the book already. Maybe they’re coming to get it… maybe they’re…”

The arrival of the troops had thrown him way off . He looked terrified. This is not at all the composure I expect from a former Intelligence officer . “Lazzo, we can’t stay here. They’re going to find the hangar… and the plane.”

He was standing there nodding. “I know that.”

“Lazzo, we—”

“Hayley, I don’t know what to do!”

Okay. Stay calm. You’ve got to refocus him . “Lazzo, you’re the military guy. Calm down and think.” I turned from Lazzo to Flynn. “At best they landed, what, two miles from us maybe?”

“Maybe…”

“Okay.” I turned back to Flynn. “Pack whatever we brought in a bag. Don’t leave anything behind.” I looked at the map we’d taped to the wall. “Lazzo, you made the call about three or four miles west of here… right?”

“Right,” he mumbled.

“Okay. Do you have any idea where Danny might try to meet us?”

“Yes.”

“And?” He clearly didn’t want to tell me.

“Knights Peak. We gave him coordinates for Knights Peak.”

Okay, so I was right . “What’s at Knights Peak?”

“It’s four miles from the back door to Cheyenne Mountain.”

“How would you know—”

“It’s in the book. Everything is in the book.”

I looked around the hanger. There was an old pickup truck, a small plane, a US Forest Service fire truck, some farm equipment, and an office. We’d moved most everything out of the way to fit our C-130H in the back. Now we needed to move it all back and somehow hide the plane. We had to make it look like no one had been here since the attacks. We managed to pack the front of the hangar with the big equipment. We broke all the windows to allow airflow through the hangar, and to give anyone who searched the area an alternative to going inside. Hopefully they’d just look in the windows—not see or hear anything—and move on. We backed a Bobcat up against the back door—so no one could come in that way—and maladjusted the rollers on the giant sliding doors at the front of the hangar. That might convince them to not look inside for a plane.

We figured if the troops had landed two miles west of us, they’d continue west toward where the radio signal had come from before regrouping and sweeping back. This terrain was anything but flat. They’d cover those five to six miles in three hours or so—four at the most. We uncovered the jeep from our plane—having parked it outside under the trees—and loaded our gear into the back. We drove slowly out to the road, careful not to stir up dust or leave noticeable tire marks.

At five miles per hour, it took us almost ten minutes to reach the blacktop road. I hopped out quickly and tore down the US Forest Service Smokejumpers sign then got back in and turned us south on Shelf Road. We raced alongside the canyon containing Fourmile Creek as fast as I dared. The goal was to get the engine as hot as possible as quickly as possible now. I needed whoever was monitoring the area to pick up our heat signal—to notice us somehow. I needed them to see us away from the hangar—to hopefully keep anyone from searching Long Hungry Gulch and the base where we’d been hiding.

Shelf Road came to a T intersection where Fourmile Creek met Cripple Creek and I turned left—north—following Cripple Creek towards the town of the same name. As we passed a sign for Grouse Mountain, we saw another plane pass overhead, and more paratroopers filled the sky ahead of us. They found us .