Undercover Texas

Chapter Eleven



On the way to view the security camera tapes, Trace detoured into the facility’s badge manager’s office. “Do you have the information I called about?” he demanded of the woman behind the desk.

The manager looked up at Trace with concern. “You really want Leona Yates’s records included? Do you realize the ramifications of your request when she hears about it?”

“I have my reasons, and I also have the authority to demand any person’s records on this base. Isn’t that correct?”

The woman stiffened. “Yes, sir.”

“Then do your job and get the information for me. Now.”

Obviously troubled, she raced out of the office.

Tension clawed at Trace’s neck and back like a beast tearing at flesh. Every move he made now could very well destroy the company...or his own career, if his suspicions were wrong.

He didn’t think they were. He just hoped.

Within a minute, the woman thrust a stack of papers into his hand. “That’s everyone’s movements for the day. I hope you know what you’re doing, sir.”

Trace didn’t answer. He just walked into the hallway, already searching the data for Leona Yates’s identification and recorded movements. She’d come in, but she’d never left the facility. So where in the hell was she?

He checked her office again. Not there, and she didn’t answer her phone or her page.

As he disconnected, the lab called.

“Padgett here. What did you find?”

“Initial tests show there’s a ninety percent probability the blood from Mahew’s room belongs to Leona Yates. I’ll know more later.”

Damn.

Trace put the phone in his pocket, his tension ratcheting up higher. The prisoner had been restrained so he couldn’t fight back. Mahew wouldn’t have drawn blood. So who did?

His stomach roiled.

He admired Leona. He had the entire time he’d worked for her. He didn’t want to think she was involved in these events, but he’d discovered too many inconsistencies in her behavior, and the Caribbean bank accounts he’d just discovered had sealed the deal that something wasn’t on the level.

Still, she was a brilliant operative. She wouldn’t voluntarily leave her blood at a crime scene. He needed proof of her guilt—or innocence—fast.

He strode into the internal surveillance room and shut the door to the monitor-lined room. The private manning the booth looked at the closed door warily.

“Pull up the last three hours on camera fifteen,” Trace snapped. “Play them on fast forward until I say stop.”

“Yes, sir.” The kid nearly passed out as he fumbled to follow orders.

Finally, the tech located the right view. The crisp images zipped by on the screen.

“Stop.” Trace reeled at the images. Leona had gone into Terence Matthew’s room, but she wasn’t the creep’s first visitor.

General Miller had entered first.

“Go back ten minutes and play it at normal speed,” Trace croaked, unwilling to accept the truth that was about to play out. Again, Miller entered; then, several minutes later, Leona followed. “Keep the tape rolling in real time.”

A short while later, Miller and Leona walked, huddled together, Miller chatting and laughing as if he were just visiting an old friend. Leona’s smiles were more forced and she seemed a lot stiffer.

“Zoom in,” Trace said. He squinted. He couldn’t prove it, but given Leona’s posture, he could swear that Miller had a gun to her side.

“Get out,” Trace ordered the private. “I’ll take over from here.”

The kid squeaked an acknowledgment then hightailed it through the door. Trace’s fingers flew across the controls, searching other hallways for another view of Miller and Leona. It was as if they’d vanished until...

Bingo. Miller escorted her into his office.

Ten minutes later, General Miller stalked out in full dress uniform. Without Leona.

What the hell was going on? Trace fast-forwarded through until the present. No one had entered or exited the general’s room. Leona had to still be in there.

He raced to Miller’s office and tried the doorknob. Locked. He keyed in his code and pressed inside, breaking more regulations than he could count. If the general court-martialed Trace, so be it. Once inside, he pulled out his firearm and walked into the room with its walnut desk.

Photos with Miller shaking the hands of the previous five presidents lined the wall.

Feeling as if he were stepping on sacred ground, Trace rounded Miller’s desk and peered down at it. It was clean and pristine with the exception of a photo of his son in uniform that took up one corner.

The general had changed after his son’s death. His work was more driven, the man less forgiving. That made his happy countenance on the video footage even more suspicious.

Trace, his gun at the ready, walked the room, threw open a closet door and scanned the interior. Only the general’s private bathroom remained.

Where was Leona? Trace stared at the tiny bathroom, then stepped outside and looked again, mentally measuring the space. The dimensions were wrong.

Damn it, there was a hidden room. He tapped on the wall, knocking once, then again. “Leona?”

A barely discernible thud sounded from behind the barrier. Then three short taps. Three longer ones, three short again. Morse code for SOS.

Trace put his gun on the sink, ran his hands along the paneling and pressed against the wood. Finally, he felt a small indentation. He curled his fingers into the space and pulled.

A handle popped out, and he opened the door.

Crouched on the floor and covered with blood from a head wound, Leona blinked up at him, her face pale and sweating profusely.

“Trace,” she gasped. “Thank God. We have to stop Miller. He’s lost it. He killed Mahew.”

Trace cupped Leona’s elbow and helped her to her feet. She staggered and sat on the closed toilet lid. She pressed her hands to her head. “Oh, God. Miller tried to kill me, but he used too much drug on Mahew. For a moment, I thought I was dead. He never would have left me alive if he’d known my heart hadn’t stopped.”

“What happened?” Trace fingered her scalp, evaluating her injury.

She shook him off. “Let’s just say he didn’t much care what he tossed me against. Besides, my head doesn’t matter. Miller got a call from the airfield that his plane was ready. We have to find out where he’s going.”

Trace pulled out his phone. “I’ll call security.”

She stopped him. “No. We don’t know who’s loyal to him. He got another call and said something about his men meeting him at the drop-off.” She shuddered. “I can’t believe this is happening. If you’d asked me two days ago, I would have killed for General Miller. No questions asked.”

“Me, too,” Trace said quietly. He helped Leona up. “Where do we start?”

“You search his computer. The monitor will have me seeing double and triple. I’ll go through his private files,” Leona said.

Trace hesitated. “You know we could be accused of treason.”

Leona touched the still-bleeding wound on her forehead. “You’re welcome to leave.”

“Not happening. Whatever Miller’s doing, he’s misusing his office.”

After helping Leona into the main room, Trace paused. “I thought he was a hero.”

“He was,” Leona said quietly. “It remains to be seen what he is now.”

She stiffened her shoulders, walked around the desk and tugged open a drawer. With barely a hesitation, she flipped a switch. The back of the file slid down and another group of documents appeared.

Trace gaped at her.

“You learn a few things when you know a man for a lifetime,” she commented. “Can you drag me over a chair before I fall down?”

Trace settled Leona, then turned his attention to the general’s computer while she searched through the files.

Trace pressed a few keys, but the system was locked.

He glanced at Leona. “Do you have the override code?”

Leona slowly nodded. They both knew that entering that code would set a chain of events into action that couldn’t be stopped.

“Look away. I’ll take the fall on this one.” Concentrating hard on the keyboard, she typed in a long password.

The general’s screen flickered on. Trace searched through a few documents on the desktop, then clicked a video file from the most recent files. It was the last thing viewed on General Miller’s computer.

Grainy images blinked on the screen. The focus tilted, then jumped around a dark, dirty room with a steel bed and a stained mattress in one corner. On the dirt floor lay a young soldier in a torn uniform, bloody and beaten.

Leona stilled and stared at the screen. “Oh, my God. It’s Matt.”

“Matt Miller?” Trace asked. “The general’s son?”

Trace turned up the volume and couldn’t look away.

Curses and blows rained down on the defenseless man. Questions and taunts came from offscreen, but Trace recognized the voice of one man. Akbar Ali. One of the most brutal, sophisticated and dangerous militant leaders to hit the terrorist scene in years.

On the screen, a man backhanded the young soldier, screaming at him to beg for his life for the camera.

Matt Miller didn’t beg. He kicked out his feet and took down two of the terrorists nearest to him.

Ali roared in anger, “Kill him.”

One of the terrorists grabbed Matt’s hair and pulled it back, while another took a sword and cut off the soldier’s head.

Ali laughed in the background. “Be warned, Americans. This is what we do to those who cross us. Don’t expect mercy from me. Expect death.”

The tape ended, but a moment later the grainy images started over.

Trace cursed. “The video is set to continuously loop. No wonder Miller has gone crazy.”

“It’s worse than that.” Leona pulled out a file. “Miller has been in direct contact with Akbar Ali, using an alias as a weapons dealer. Have you heard of the op?”

“Ali is not part of Miller’s current mission plans,” Trace said. “I’ve been in every situational meeting on those operations, and Ali wasn’t even mentioned.”

Leona scanned the document. Her face paled. “Oh, Kent, what have you done?” She lifted a devastated gaze to Trace. “Miller is using Hunter and his family as bait. The general promised Ali that he’d hand over Dr. Jamison and her prototype.”

Trace let out a long, slow breath. “Miller intends to be a hero one last time, and take down the terrorist who killed his son on American soil.”

* * *

A LOUD COYOTE’S HOWL PIERCED the night. Hunter groaned, his head pounding and his movements sluggish. Dirt and gravel bit into his cheek. Confused and dazed, he pushed to his knees and stared around. Why was he outside? And what the hell was wrong with his brain and body? They weren’t functioning right.

Disjointed images flashed in his mind. Men running. A red dot. The projectile in his leg paralyzing him. Curare, maybe? Ketamine?

He glanced at the open door to the cabin.

Oh, God. He remembered Erin’s screams. They’d taken her and the baby.

His heart raced. He tried to stand. His limbs were still unresponsive to a degree, but he finally regained his balance and stood, swaying slightly. Through sheer force of will, he made it inside the house.

He grabbed a large flashlight and the keys, then staggered out to the SUV.

Slowly, he followed the tire marks to the paved road.

He’d lost them.

He grabbed his phone and punched in Blake’s number.

“Redmond.” The sheriff’s voice was groggy with sleep.

“Erin and Brandon were kidnapped. I need whatever help you can give me. Without any public information. They’re in a black SUV. Looks like they headed west on Old Market Road, but that’s all I can tell.”

“Do you have a license plate?”

“No. They hit me with some kind of drug. It incapacitated me. That’s all I remember.” He glanced at his watch. “They left here more than an hour ago.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Blake said. “But Hunter, if they didn’t run a boatload of red lights or speed down the highway, they wouldn’t have drawn attention. Call in whatever resources you’ve got at your end. You need more than a county sheriff’s three-man office to find a missing black SUV in rural Texas.”

Hunter paused. “Blake, these people are dangerous. They’ll kill if they have to. Warn your people.”

“Got it.”

Hunter ended the call, then was struck by the realization that he was actually alive. Those guys hadn’t killed him. So why just drug him? It didn’t make sense.

He dialed Logan.

“Carmichael.”

“It’s Hunter. I need Daniel and Noah now. Brandon and Erin were kidnapped an hour ago, and I have no way to find them. Annie’s got parts of Carder wired and can view them from her mobile unit. I need to know if she can tell me which direction a black SUV headed after leaving here. There were four guys.”

Logan let out a string of curses. “If Erin and Brandon were taken an hour ago, they could be anywhere within five hundred square miles. We need to narrow the search.”

Hunter scraped his fingers through his hair. “I’ve got to call Leona. Maybe she’s seen something on satellite.”

“That might not be such a good idea.”

A cold chill encased Hunter’s soul. “What are you saying?”

“We don’t know where the leak is coming from or how they’re tracking you, but Leona’s one of the few people I know with the skills to set up something like this and get away with it.”

With each word, Hunter’s stomach knotted. More because he’d reluctantly come to the same conclusion. He didn’t like hearing it aloud. He didn’t even like thinking it.

“I’ll get back to you with Annie’s info,” Logan said.

Daniel and Noah called and gave Hunter their updated ETA.

Desperate to uncover any clue to Erin and Brandon’s whereabouts, Hunter searched the cabin once more. The men had taken nothing with them. Except his family.

His phone rang. Logan.

“What have you got?”

“Nothing. The SUV didn’t go through Carder. They could be traveling off-road.”

Hunter pounded his fist into the side of the cabin. “What the hell do I do now, Logan? How do I find them?”

* * *

LEONA TRIED TO QUELL THE throbbing in her head. She had to concentrate. Kent had gone over the edge.

She couldn’t reconcile the man she’d fought evil beside for all these years with the madman who would sacrifice an innocent woman and child—and one of his best operatives—for revenge.

Heartbroken, she sighed. “I should have known Miller would want revenge. He handled his son’s murder too well. Even though the general was devastated, he just completely immersed himself in work.” She straightened. “We have to stop him before he gets to Hunter and his family, wherever they are.”

“Leona, come here.” Trace’s voice sounded odd.

She peered at the computer. Trace was scrolling through hundreds of pictures of Erin Jamison and her little boy. An attached file showed locations, cell call logs, copies of day care interviews and even well-baby check notes from the clinic just outside Eglin.

“Miller’s been watching Erin Jamison for a year,” Trace said. He pointed to the name of a pediatrician. “This guy is on contract to us. I personally pushed through his security clearance last year at the general’s request.”

A shiver started at the base of Leona’s spine and worked its way up. She scanned down farther. Immunization. Brandon Jamison. TX9125. Insertion completed. Activated.

Trace reeled back and met Leona’s gaze.

“He inserted a chip in that baby? Oh, my God,” she said. She pulled out her phone and punched in a number.

“You think Hunter will answer?” Trace asked. “I sure as hell wouldn’t after everything that’s gone down.”

“He has to.” Leona said a small prayer.

“Leona.” Hunter’s voice was reserved and suspicious on the other end of the phone.

“Listen to me. Please. Miller is behind everything. You’ve got to get out of wherever you are now and keep moving. He put a tracking chip inside your son. You have to remove it or you don’t stand a chance. That’s how they keep finding you. They want Erin and the prototype.”

“You’re too late, Leona.” Hunter’s voice was flat, cold and dangerous. “They drugged me with a paralytic agent and took her. Brandon, too.

“My family is gone.”

* * *

ERIN’S CHEEK THROBBED WITH A pulse of its own. It had to be broken based on the level of pain shooting through her face. She struggled to keep her mind clear, watching out the window, memorizing every turn, every road.

They’d just passed a giant roadrunner statue in Fort Stockton.

Now the men careened off onto a deserted road just outside the small Texas town, sending Erin tumbling. She kept hold of Brandon, but the tire iron slid, almost hitting the side panel of the SUV. She grabbed the metal bar before the sound gave away that she had the weapon.

The vehicle slowed and finally stopped. Her heart rate tripled. She could do this. She had to escape or leave a trail for Hunter to follow. She set Brandon on the carpet behind her, as far from the tailgate as possible, then turned to face the back of the vehicle.

She clutched the tire iron and waited, muscles taut with apprehension.

A flash of headlights reflected in the back window, somewhat blinding her. The four doors of the SUV opened, and the men stepped out to greet the newcomers.

Two rounded to the rear of the car. She’d hoped for only one. She’d have to move fast.

The tail lifted.

Erin didn’t hesitate. She swung the tire iron like a bat and hit one of the masked men on the side of his head.

Bones crunched under the blow. He didn’t even shout. He slumped to the ground.

Without hesitating, she swung at the other man, but he was too fast for her. He grabbed the tire iron and threw it to the ground, then yanked her forward and pulled back his fist.

“Stand down, soldier,” a harsh voice ordered from the side. “I need her identifiable. She looks like she’s already been beaten.”

The attacker lowered his arm and backed away, glaring at her.

A man in full dress uniform walked into view. “Dr. Jamison. We meet at last. You’re a bit more resourceful than I expected.” He looked down at the crumpled man at his feet. “Maybe I should have recruited you for my team.”

Erin took in all the medals across his chest and realization hit. “General Miller?”

The man Hunter trusted with his life. The man who she’d hoped would help her. He was behind all this?

Her body sagged.

“Duct-tape her hands and feet, then put her and the kid in the back of my car. And, gentlemen, make sure she can’t reach any weapons this time.”

They grabbed her and secured her hands behind her back before tossing her into the back of a white SUV, its engine still running. They thrust a squealing Brandon in next to her. He crawled over her body, crying to be held, but she couldn’t. She could only nuzzle his cheek.

Miller slid into the driver’s seat.

One of the black-clad men came up alongside and tapped the glass.

Miller slid down the window. “Yes?”

“Do you want us to follow you, sir?”

“No, I’ll take it from here. Dump the SUV and return to headquarters. I’ll debrief you when I return.” He hesitated. “By the way, thank the men for me. You did your country a great service here tonight.”

The man saluted.

Erin’s gaze followed him and his two buddies. They picked up the unconscious fourth man and dumped him in the black SUV. Moments later, they hit the lights and started to drive away.

“You really have been a pain to deal with, Dr. Jamison. It’s your fault I will lose four perfectly capable men.”

He pressed a button, and the black SUV exploded into flames.

“Remember what you’ve seen. If that’s the way I treat my friends, you don’t want to be my enemy.”

* * *

HUNTER HEARD LEONA’S GASP. She hadn’t known.

Or else she was a damned good actress. He knew that about her already.

“Why should I believe you about Miller?” Hunter asked.

“Kent tried to kill me tonight, right after he murdered Terence Mahew. He’s lost it. I should have seen it coming.”

Hunter couldn’t be sorry about Mahew, but he would never have imagined Miller would try to kill Leona.

“Graham, this is Trace Padgett. You have no reason to trust me, but we can help. Miller has taken the jet and he’s heading to Texas. I’m assuming you’re there.”

Hunter remained silent.

“According to Miller’s computer, the drug they probably shot you up with is a synthetic form of curare and nicotine. It was used in the fifties as a paralytic but abandoned because it was too dangerous. Miller’s research teams worked the kinks out. If the info is correct, two hours after the injection, you’ll regain full movement and your mental faculties will work as before.”

“I don’t care about myself. What’s the frequency of the tracking device in Brandon? Can you find it?”

“Each chip is different,” Padgett said. “I’m searching the database now.”

Hunter groaned in anguish. “Hurry, damn it.”

“Hunter,” Leona said softly. “I’m so very, very sorry.”

“Why did Miller take them?” Hunter asked.

“He’s using them as a lure for Ali. The terrorist thinks he’s getting Dr. Jamison and the prototype.”

“Akbar Ali? The terrorist responsible for Matt’s death?” Hunter cursed softly. He could understand the need for revenge. He’d seen Matt’s decapitated body. If that had been Brandon...he’d kill the bastard.

But he would never use an innocent woman and a child to do it.

Not ever.

“Find them.”

“I’ve got something,” Padgett said. “When do Noah and Daniel get there?”

Hunter didn’t answer. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Scorpion,” Padgett interjected quietly.

Hunter gripped the phone tighter. He recognized the code word. He also understood the leap of faith Padgett had just taken. And the connection he had revealed.

He’d been contacted by Logan Carmichael.

Trace Padgett was a man Hunter could trust.

Leona had remained still in the background, but Hunter could just imagine the wheels turning in her head.

“They’ll be here in less than an hour,” Hunter revealed.

“Their plane has the equipment on board that can track the chip. Write this down.” Padgett rattled off the frequency.

Hunter finished entering the numbers into his phone, and headed for his duffel. “If I get my family out of this alive, Padgett, we’re going to talk. Then I’m buying you a drink. You, too, Leona.”

“I think it will call for champagne,” Leona added. “And formula.”

* * *

HUNTER PACED AT THE END of the Triple C’s runway, waiting for Noah and Daniel’s plane to land. His body and mind were finally back to normal, if abject terror and fear counted among normal things.

Padgett had been right about the drug. Almost exactly two hours later, the effects had worn off.

Blake positioned his sheriff’s car at one end of the runway, lights shining onto the pavement. Hunter waited at the other end to set fire to a line of lighter fluid. The airstrip was always used in the daytime, but both Blake and Hunter had seen enough drug plane setups to rig something similar here.

He glanced at his watch again, unable to believe only a minute had passed since he’d checked it last. Time was crawling, and Hunter was ready to lose it. Erin and Brandon had been gone for so long, and the grid pattern they’d have to search for one little tracking signal was getting bigger all the time.

Hunter’s only hope was that Miller needed Erin alive.

Did he still need Brandon, now that Miller had the bait Ali wanted? Hunter prayed that was case. Even so, time was running out.

A plane’s engine buzzed above him. The aircraft dipped one wing, then circled around. Hunter set the lighter to the fluid, and a line of fire rose into the air, delineating the airstrip.

The Lear landed with room to spare, not even close to mowing down the cop car.

Once the plane had stopped and turned around, Blake pulled his vehicle to the side. “I heard on the scanner that a black SUV was found burning near Fort Stockton a little while ago. I checked with local authorities there, and they just called back. They found evidence of explosives and four charred bodies inside.”

Hunter’s knees buckled, and he grasped the car.

“No. Hunter. None of them were a baby or a woman. I don’t know if these were the same four guys who took Erin and Brandon, but someone is playing for keeps and leaving no witnesses. Be careful.”

Hunter nodded but couldn’t speak. The lump in his throat wouldn’t let any words escape, even ones of thanks.

“Good luck, Hunter,” Blake said. “If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.”

He watched the sheriff disappear into the night. Another man who’d proven himself worthy of trust, especially in a time of need. Logan knew some good people.

Would it all be enough?

The door of the Lear opened and Logan’s partner, Daniel, peered into the night. “You ready to go, Graham?”

Hunter gathered everything up quickly and climbed into the plush plane. He filled in Noah and Daniel on the latest as he stowed his gear.

“Okay, the burning car gives us a direction to start. Buckle up,” Noah said from the captain’s seat. “I’m taking the fastest route south possible. We’ll have a car waiting for us wherever we land. Soon as we see a signal, the order goes out.”

Daniel limped over to the seat next to Hunter, instead of going into the cockpit as usual. Hunter wondered how screwed up Daniel was after the torture he’d undergone in Bellevaux.

“You’re not flying the plane tonight?” Hunter asked.

His friend shook his head. “Not my thing anymore. A little too tight quarters up there at night,” he said, his grip white-knuckled. “Feels like I’m trapped in a closet.”

“You okay to do this?”

“The shrinks think I’m nuts, but that’s nothing new. I just happen to like wide-open spaces and big blue skies these days,” he admitted.

Hunter studied Daniel, saw the scars on his face and hands. Would Daniel be all right? Hunter couldn’t risk Erin and Brandon’s safety if Daniel lost it.

As though he’d read Hunter’s mind, Daniel lifted his gaze. “I won’t let you down. I promise. Pissed off conquers fear, and this situation’s done that and more for me.”

Once they’d taken off, Daniel pulled out a metal briefcase from beneath his seat. He opened the case and flipped on a switch. “What’s the frequency of your son’s chip?”

Hunter pulled up the information on his phone and relayed the numbers.

Daniel recalibrated the receiver, and a tiny beep sounded. “We should be able to pick up the sound within a thousand-mile radius.”

“They could have traveled farther than that.”

Daniel sat back in his seat. “We’ll grid the area out and find them.” He laid out a map.

Hunter studied the southern half of the United States. “Their first pickup was scheduled on the Gulf of Mexico off the Florida coast,” he said. “The burning SUV was south. If I wanted to make someone disappear, I’d get them out of the country as fast as I could.”

“Miller has a plane,” Daniel pointed out. “If he already picked them up...”

Hunter cursed. He refused to consider what might happen. They stared at the receiver, their tension growing with each mile of airspace eaten up.

Hunter knew Noah was pushing the Lear to its limit. It had been too long, and they still had nothing.

Suddenly, a buzz sounded.

Hunter studied the tracker, then the map.

“Got ’em,” Daniel said, with a relieved smile on his face. “You were right, Hunter. They’re not far from the border.”

Hunter stared at the small moving dot. He touched the monitor as if it could connect him to his son and the love of his life.

He compared the two maps. “They’re heading into Big Bend National Park. That’s some rough terrain.

“Where can we land?” Hunter called to Noah.

“Lajitas,” he answered. “They have a large enough airstrip. I’ll have a car ready when we arrive.”

Hunter bent down and checked his weapons and clips, then sheathed his knife. He met Daniel’s gaze. “Top priority of this op is the safety of Erin and my son. No matter what else is going on. Agreed?”

Daniel gave him a solemn look. “We’ll have your back, Hunter. We’ll do what it takes.”

“Good, because it’s almost dawn and before this day is over, I’m going to take Miller down. Ali and anyone else involved in kidnapping my family are going to pay.”

Hunter glanced at the dot, and his heart lurched. All movement had stopped. “You don’t threaten what’s mine and get away with it.”