His jaw clenched. “I should kill you.”
Luther kept his eyes on the kitchen. He fired rounds to suppress the next wave of hostiles from rushing them. “Gibbs suspected me, sniffed a trap. One of their guys searched you after I did. I knew they would. They were just waiting for me to trip up. I had to do it, act like I was playing both sides for the General.”
“Sounds like you played both sides for real.”
“I left you the tactical pen, didn’t I? No one bothered to inspect it, but I knew what it was. You’re special forces. I had a hunch you had a back-up plan. That you could figure it out.”
Liam stepped back, breathing hard. “A lot riding on a hunch.”
He fired two suppressing shots, then ducked back behind cover. “I got everyone out of the room to give you a shot. I had Baxter contact the General’s people in Lansing, to get the Secretary of State to call him. That was me!”
“You signed your own death warrant. We’re trapped.”
“We’ll find a way,” Luther said.
Several rounds struck the outside wall, hitting steel with a metallic ping. Luther fired and ducked back behind cover.
He dared a glance back at Liam. Something haunted in his eyes. “I’m going to get you out of here. For Hannah.”
Liam’s anger didn’t dissipate, but reason took hold. Luther wasn’t a snitch. Things had gone sideways—as they always did. He’d made the best of it.
Besides, Liam needed him if they were going to have a snowball’s chance in hell.
Maybe he would survive this night, after all.
A flare of hope ignited in Liam’s chest.
64
Hannah
Day One Hundred and Fifteen
The ATV raced through the countryside, jostling over ruts in the road.
Hannah leaned forward, gripping the handles, her bad hand stiff and awkward. Dark shapes whizzed by. Cold air blasted her face.
They’d taken the off-road trail to get outside the town perimeter before turning onto a rural country road. The headlights bathed the pockmarked pavement in an eerie red glow. Perez had attached a transparent red film over the headlights to keep from attracting the wrong sort of attention. The growl of the engine was enticing enough.
Luckily, it was four in the morning, and most enterprising criminals were sleeping like everyone else. Everyone not intent on invasion.
To their right, two dark shapes appeared on the front porch of a white house thirty yards from the road. Mere shadows in deeper shadows. Hannah barely registered their presence.
Perez fired a warning shot. The shadows retreated into the house.
Then the ATV rocketed past, and they turned west on Shawnee Road, tires squealing, and headed toward Stevensville.
The darkness stretched out forever and ever, without end.
In thirty minutes, they arrived at Cook Nuclear Power Plant.
As before, four armed soldiers stopped them at the front gate. The guards pointed their weapons at them, hostile until Hannah identified themselves and explained their mission.
A female soldier radioed Major Hamilton, and a few minutes later, two soldiers escorted them past the gates. Hannah and Perez approached the makeshift barracks on foot, flanked by guardsmen carrying M4s.
Hannah caught only a glimpse of large concrete buildings clustered behind the tall razor-wired fencing. In the darkness, she couldn’t see the twin concrete cylindrical domes rising above them—the containment facilities for the reactors.
Dozens of RVs crowded the parking lots. Red coals smoldering from a few campfires illuminated the darkness like scattered stars in a galaxy of night.
While the civilian sector was quiet and still, dozens of soldiers were moving about. Dressed in full tactical gear, they carried crates of supplies and canvas duffle bags between several transport vehicles.
Like they were preparing for a mission. Or to ship out.
Their escorts led them into an industrial building, down a long dark hallway, and into a room illuminated by a single electric lamp.
Charlie Hamilton sat before a desk surrounded by crates of weapons and ammo. Several bullet-proof vests were slung over the back of a nearby chair.
He looked up as they entered, his face breaking into a wide smile. Built like a fire hydrant, he was short but brawny. His features were strong—thick brows, large nose, dark eyes. “Hannah. This is a bit of a surprise.”
“I’m sorry to intrude so late—or rather, so early.”
“How’s my favorite Delta? Where is that ugly mug? I’ve missed him.”
She struggled to rein in the sudden surge of emotion. “He’s not here.”
His face fell a little, but he maintained that warm, gregarious smile. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed. Don’t tell him that, though.”
He had an open, honest face. Hannah had liked the former Army Ranger the moment she met him. “Well, what can I do for you?”
She eyed the magazines spread across the desk. He was loading them from several boxes of 5.56 mm ammunition. “I thought you’d be sleeping.”
“Can’t tell you how much I wish I was.” He scrubbed at his face with the back of his arm. His eyes were bloodshot. “No rest for the weary. We just received marching orders. We’re to link up with General Sinclair to take out a dug-in group of domestic terrorists.”
Hannah’s heart seized. Terrorists. Anger vibrated through her. She could feel Perez shaking at her side.
She placed a restraining hand on the other woman’s arm. They needed to do this very, very carefully. “I thought you weren’t supposed to involve yourselves with local disputes.”
His eyes narrowed. “We’re not. These orders came straight from the top. Brass says to jump, we say how high.”
“Do you know the specific target?” she asked.
He shot her a funny look. “We’ll be debriefed upon arrival. Why do you ask?”
She took a breath, steeling herself. “Major Hamilton, may I speak plainly? It’s important.”