Karen tried not to stare at the timer she’d activated on the phone. It wasn’t as though the team would show up in exactly twelve minutes, but the analyst in her needed to see the countdown. Tucker was more than capable, but she wouldn’t apologize for being concerned about him. Only a minute and a half had ticked by. She hated just sitting here while Tucker was out there hunting Vane down and placing himself in danger.
Turning in her seat, she glanced in the side mirrors of the minivan. Tucker had parked in a small parking area next to the neighboring hangar, beside a silver Jeep. They’d turned the minivan off so the engine wouldn’t make any noise while she waited. So far she hadn’t seen anyone entering or leaving the hangar, but even if they did, it wasn’t the one Tucker was infiltrating. She hated not having him or that hangar in her line of vision. And she hated that he’d gone in alone.
Vane was only a small cog in all this. Now that Hillenbrand had been taken into custody, they’d bring down everyone in this organization of insanity. Or at least that was the hope. But Karen knew that bringing down Vane meant a lot to Tucker because of the man’s personal betrayal. Even if Hillenbrand had approached Vane, the DEA agent had to have been the one to suggest which people to use as pawns. And he was the reason Max Southers was dead.
Tucker would never forget that. Neither would Wesley for that matter. Karen knew it didn’t matter what Wesley had said about negotiating with Vane; in the end, her boss would make sure he paid dearly for his crimes.
“Have you heard anything else?” Karen asked Elliott, who was quiet except for rampant clicking on his keyboard. She knew he was handling about half a dozen things right now and could hear other analysts in the background, but she couldn’t help worrying about their people. Guilt threaded through her that she wasn’t there to help, but she had to know Tucker was okay and the price of that decision was sitting here waiting in an agony of suspense.
“Not yet. I’m sorry. But Wesley hasn’t checked in yet.”
“Thanks.” She certainly couldn’t bother her boss about that now, not when he was being pulled in twenty different directions himself. She could only imagine the destruction inside the subway. The exterior hadn’t been as bad as she’d thought, but that might not matter if enough structural damage had been done inside.
“The tracker is out,” Elliott said abruptly.
“What?”
“Vane’s tracker flickered off and never came back online.”
Which could mean nothing. Or it could mean that he’d found it. What if he was aware that they were onto him? He’d be ready for Tucker. Or he could be leaving for another escape route. And what if he had more men with him? The intel they had didn’t seem to suggest that, but it was possible. He’d called Osborn, so he’d at least reached out to someone.
Ten minutes until the backup team arrived. Which felt like an eternity.
She tensed when she saw a black Lexus nearing the parking area. Even though the windows were darkly tinted, she ducked lower in her seat and watched the vehicle slow, then park five car lengths down from her.
A man exited a moment later, then glanced around, his gaze flicking over the van she was in, but he clearly didn’t see her as he continued scanning the surrounding area. Dressed in a long gray peacoat, black slacks, and dress shoes, he had an overnight bag in one hand. He looked her way again and she leaned forward this time, knowing the tinted windows covered her.
Her heart jumped into her throat as recognition slammed into her. “Rayford Osborn just showed up,” she whispered to Elliott even though Osborn couldn’t possibly hear her.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. It’s him. He’s headed for the rear of the storage hangar.” Probably parked here and was doing the same thing Tucker had done: heading for the neighboring hangar. “He’s got to be working with Vane.” It couldn’t be a coincidence that both men had shown up here at the same time.
“Hang tight. I’ve got to alert Wesley.” He clicked off before she could respond.
Silencing the cell phone, she tucked it in her jacket pocket and slid from the vehicle. She didn’t care what Tucker had said about waiting. He had no idea that Osborn was here. For all she knew, the man could take Tucker off guard, ambush him.
She withdrew her weapon and checked the chamber out of habit. While she might not be as trained as Selene, she still had a lot of weapons training. All part of the job. Gripping it tight in her hand, she scanned the parking area once more and then raced after Osborn, who’d disappeared around the back of the hangar. She was going to stop him before he got to Tucker. Her sneakers were quiet against the pavement as she ran, but her heart was beating triple time.
As she neared the corner of the hangar, she slowed her pace and steadied her breathing. Another glance behind her showed the parking area still quiet. Good.
She risked a peek around the back of the building—and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.
Chapter 21
Bird: military slang for helicopter.
Tucker glanced into an office as he made his way down a hallway in the hangar he’d just broken into. Though breaking in was a weak description. A child could have gotten in here undetected. He’d come in through a side door, easily avoiding two of the video cameras outside. He could break in here at any time and steal a helicopter if he wanted. Pathetic.
The office had a desk with paperwork scattered all over it and a laptop in the middle, sitting on top of some of the papers. A space heater was in the corner. Not surprising, since so far Tucker couldn’t feel a difference from the iciness outside and in here. There was an echo of voices in the distance, so he slowed his pace as he neared the end of the hallway.
It opened up into a huge hangar with multiple helos inside, along with a couple of ATVs and crates storing who knew what. A quick visual scan of the place showed the hangar doors rolled up and a royal blue helicopter waiting outside in the bright sunlight.
It was smart of Vane to hire a helicopter tour company instead of chartering a plane. Tucker figured he’d wait until they were in the air, then pull a gun on the pilot and tell him where to go. Or maybe he’d pull a weapon before they’d taken off. Either way it would give him a quick escape, and if Vane killed the pilot after landing somewhere, it would cover his trail for a while. Probably give him long enough to escape the country.
Too bad for Vane that wasn’t going to happen.
Tucker stepped out into the hangar, his rubber-soled boots silent as he made his way around the inside perimeter of the place. The voices were coming from near the hangar door. Male voices, but he wasn’t certain how many there were.
Tucker shrugged out of his dingy coat and shoved it behind a crate. Underneath the homeless getup, he had on black fatigues.
Less than sixty seconds later he’d made his way almost to the front of the building. He hunkered down behind a bird he wasn’t even sure worked, using it as a cover.
“. . . just waiting on my friend. He’ll be here in a couple minutes.” That was Vane.
Friend? Tucker moved down the length of the helicopter, stopping at the rear to peer around it. With a visual of Vane confirmed, another shot of adrenaline surged through him. He was talking to a man who was clearly the pilot.
“No problem, I’m not in a rush today.”
“We appreciate you fitting us in so last-minute.”
The man wearing a leather bomber jacket and jeans shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s off-season right now. Not many people want to go up when it’s this cold.”
Tucker scanned the hangar again before stepping out from his hiding place, weapon drawn. He’d find out who Vane was waiting for, but he was going to incapacitate him now.
“Hands in the air, now!” he shouted as he strode toward them.
The pilot’s arms dropped, his face going hard and his stance defensive. But he put his hands in the air at the same time Vane did. Vane’s wounded hand had been professionally bandaged by someone at the NSA before the subway meet, but he’d still be in pain for a while.
“It’s over, you piece of shit,” Tucker growled at him.