Radclyffe - Price of Honor

Stark looked as unhappy as Blair felt. “For now, we wait.”

Blair wanted to snarl, but Stark was only doing what she had to do. Just as somewhere, so was Cam.

*

The command car was crowded with Cam, Tom, communication techs, and the K9 and ERT chiefs crowded around a speaker they’d programmed to broadcast incoming calls.

“Cam,” Lucinda said via the speaker, “the first call was routed through the White House switchboard. The caller told the operator she needed to be connected to the president immediately or the train would be attacked. The president was notified, and he took the call. Any further incoming communications will be direct to him, so you and Tom can hear…wait…it’s ringing now.”

“Go,” Cam said. “We’ve got it.”

“This is Andrew Powell,” the president said an instant later. He sounded calm and confident.

“Let me clarify your instructions so we have no misunderstanding that could lead to a tragedy none of us want,” a woman said. Her voice was distant but clear.

Cam leaned closer, fighting to keep her anger from clouding her senses. Blair, Lucinda, the president, a few dozen agents—they were all in the kill zone if what this woman said was true about a bomb on one of the cars, and she could do nothing for them except listen and search for a chink in the UNSUB’s plan. She had to stay clearheaded and think. She took a breath and listened.

“This is simple,” the Jane Doe said. “Have Jennifer Pattee transported to the train station in Washington DC. There she will buy a ticket for a departing train and be allowed to travel freely. She will be provided a phone to call me at the number you’ve traced by now, once she is on the train. When she has left the train and entered a cab, she will call me again. As soon as I have confirmation she is en route to a safe location, I’ll deactivate the drone detonators and the train may continue. You have thirty minutes to transport her to the train station.”

“I’d like to know who I am negotiating with,” Andrew Powell said.

“You don’t need to know anything about me. All you need to know is this. I’m prepared to shoot anyone attempting to dismantle the drones. If you attempt to drop an incendiary on me or send a kill team to neutralize me, I’ll trigger the explosives. If I die, a signal from a heart-rate monitor will initiate a relay to automatically detonate the drones. There’s enough C4 on the train right now to take out half of it.” She paused. Her breathing was quiet and steady. “As long as everyone stays exactly where they are and you follow my instructions, we will all be done with this and everyone can go on their way.”

“If you—”

The line went dead.

“Cam, Tom?” the president said. “Did you get all that? Is it credible?”

“Yes, sir,” Cam said tightly. “We can’t be sure of the capability of the drones, but what she says is theoretically possible. You, Mr. President, must be evacuated. As soon as we get a satellite feed of the probable location of the UNSUB, we can move a team forward to get you out.”

“How safe is that?” the president said. “If you can see her, how can you be sure she can’t see you?”

“There’s a small chance of that,” Tom Turner said, “but we can’t leave you in the present situation.”

“You’ll have to for now,” the president said.

Lucinda broke in. “Andrew, that’s an unacceptable risk, and you know—”

“What I know is my daughter and dozens of our people are also at risk. Right now, if I continue to converse with this woman, I’m the best chance everyone has to stay alive.”

Lucinda said, “Tom, what about evacuating the other cars?”

Tom glanced at Cam. “We can try to move everyone to the rear of the train, but we have no proof they’ll actually be any safer. We need to keep everyone calm and on the train. Evacuating anyone but you is our second choice.”

“What’s the first?” Andrew said.

“In our opinion,” Cam said, “our best option is to deactivate the drones.”

“How?”

“First we have to locate them.” Cam nodded to Phil Virtucci, who leaned toward the mic.

“Sir,” Phil said, “this is Virtucci, the K9 chief. I’m sending out an agent with our best dog. We all agree a solo team has the best chance of getting close to the drone on the train without being detected. We’ll have a visual feed and can assess the best way to neutralize it.”

“How soon?” the president said. “We’re on the clock.”

“Now, sir.”

*

Dusty eased down between the two K9 kennel cars and dropped to the ground. Atlas jumped down beside her and pressed close to her leg. She dropped onto her back and pushed under the car in front of her. She was eight cars back from the private presidential cars. She turned her head, met Atlas’s calm brown eyes gazing at her from where he crouched by the side of the car.

“Find it, boy,” she murmured to Atlas.

He seemed to understand that they had to work close to the train, and he moved slowly ahead of her with his big body almost brushing the wheels of the cars as she shimmied forward, pressed flat to avoid the undercarriages of the cars. Ice seeped into the neck of her jacket and cold water soaked her hair. She sweated inside her thermal camos. Seventh car. Sixth. Fifth.

Atlas worked quickly, but thoroughly, checking the wheels, poking his nose beneath the undercarriage ahead of Dusty, and sniffing the platforms between the cars. He had the best nose of the lot. If the drone carried a payload, Atlas would scent it. Snow drifted under the train on swirling eddies of wind and coated Dusty’s lashes and face. The world beyond the narrow window of light at the edge of the track was gray and bleak. She and Atlas were alone in a cold, barren world. She blinked the salt and snow from her eyes. Fourth car. Third.

Atlas stopped abruptly and jumped up with his paws against the side of the car. He woofed once, deep in his chest.

“Where, boy, where?” Dusty rolled to the edge of the track and peered up.

He whined and scrabbled, trying to get onto the platform between the two cars. She couldn’t see anything above her and chanced rising. Atlas circled, his ears quivering, his eyes bright with excitement. Dusty’s skin prickled in anticipation of a shot. When none came, she spoke into her wrist mic.

“Chief, we’ve got something. Roof of the third car, right at the junction with the second.”

“Have you got a visual?”

“Not yet. I’m going up for a better look.”

“Nash, don’t touch it.”

“Roger that.”

Dusty cautiously climbed the ladder attached to the side of the car, trying to avoid any vibration that might trigger a sensor on the drone. She didn’t know the exact capabilities of the device, and she didn’t want to accidentally set off the charge. She peered over the top of the car. The bird was bigger than she expected.

“I see it. Explosives taped to the body. Blinking lights—sensors probably. Multiple charges, but I can’t see a detonator. Chief, I can get it.”

“Can’t take that chance. We need to see the detonators.”

“Video’s rolling. I just need to get a little clos—”

The blow slammed into her shoulder and she flew backward off the car. She landed on her back and the cold claimed her.

*

Stark jumped up from where she’d been sitting and swore, something Blair almost never heard her do.

“What is it, what’s happening?”

“Agent down,” Stark said, a thread of fury in her voice. “God damn it. We’re hostages in here, and someone’s taking shots at us out there.”

“Who?” Blair said, a hand squeezing her heart. “Who?”

“One of the K9s.”

Viv gasped. “Dusty.”