Page 54

T he HRT compound was virtually empty. Gold Team had been deployed to Boston on Monday to protect a judge and a former defense attorney from an escaped serial killer.

Jordan was losing his mind waiting for results from the bomb squad to come in. He could probably learn to run the experiments himself in the time it was taking.

His cell rang.

Ackers. “Get in here.”

Jordan slipped out of his office, gave Maddie Goodwin a nod as she, in turn, shot him a concerned look.

He wasn’t sleeping. He’d kept his promise to himself and stopped answering the door when Ellen knocked, and he’d left a phone message apologizing for his behavior but also telling her he didn’t want to see her anymore.

And he was holding on to that resolution by the tips of his fingers because sex was a great distraction from all the shit happening right now.

He strode into Ackers’ office and closed the door behind him.

“They confirmed traces of Semtex in the swabs the bomb tech took in Zimbabwe.”

Jordan sank into the visitor’s chair without an invitation .

Since becoming the explosive of choice for various terror organizations in the 1990s, Semtex had been more carefully regulated, and the manufacturer had added a detection taggant to make it more easily detectable.

“What kind of Semtex? Are we looking at old stuff left over from the IRA days or something else?”

“According to the report it’s likely Semtex 1A, which is used primarily for mining.”

“Which many people have access to in that part of the world.” Jordan absorbed the news for a few seconds. “Kurt was murdered. Was he the target?”

Ackers slumped heavily in his chair. “Armstrong had the other passengers run before this and said there were no obvious other targets on board, which doesn’t rule out the possibility that there could have been.

The warrants to start scouring airport security footage came in. He wants you up there to help.”

Jordan nodded.

“I told him no.”

Jordan opened his mouth to argue.

“The roads are sheet ice, and with authorities asking people to stay home, I suggested you could do it from here as easily. Maddie can set you up with a couple of extra monitors.” Ackers dipped his chin. “I’m worried about you, son.”

“No need.”

“You look like hell.”

An accurate reflection of how he felt.

“Struggling to sleep,” he admitted. “Maybe it’ll be easier now I know he was murdered.” It hadn’t been determined by fate so much as human evil. He could fight evil. “When do the FBI intend to release the findings?”

“Not yet.”

Jordan didn’t understand.

“State wants to dig with some of its sources, figure out who within the government there is pulling the strings regarding this investigation and cover up. That way we hopefully don’t alienate the entire country, but rather hand them the means to root out the corruption for themselves.”

“And save face.”

“Exactly.”

Jordan wanted to swear but managed to keep his cool.

“You spoken with the shrink about how you’re feeling?”

The shrink ?

He’d rather stick needles in his eyes. “Not yet.”

“It’s time, Jordan. Past time.”

Jordan looked away. “I’ll make an appointment.” For next year.

“Do it this week. And let me know if you or SIOC find any evidence worth pursuing on the security tapes.” The man stood and leaned across his desk. “And do not mention a bomb to anyone.”

The weight of the deception snapped shut on him like a gin trap. “Not even the guys?”

Ackers’ eyes turned fierce. “Especially not the guys. They’ll be too angry not to share with someone, and that’s how secrets leak. Officially, I shouldn’t even know as I’m not on the task force.”

Jordan nodded reluctantly and left. His teammates were never going to forgive him for not telling them something this important.

Between him and Maddie, the two of them set up two large monitors on his desk, and he started scouring different feeds from around the airport.

It took a couple of hours to map what feed was from where and write that down and figure out where to start.

The data had been accessed without Zimbabwean approval, so there wasn’t a nice handy map of which camera pointed where.

It helped that he’d been to that airport recently.

He decided to run through each feed for the twenty-four hours prior to the fated plane’s take off, starting with the high-traffic areas.

Analysts at SIOC were running all the available images through facial recognition software looking for any known terrorists or persons of interest. Rowena’s uncle, Gamba Moyo, had caught a flight earlier that morning to South Africa.

Jordan watched him carefully, but there were no red flags.

No bag swaps or anything else that might be suspicious.

Then, several hours later, he found Kurt strolling through the airport without a care in the world.

God .

The loss hit him forcefully in the chest. Pain flashed across his heart.

His eyes blurred, and he blinked to clear them. Rewound the footage.

There was a knock on the door. Before he could answer, Maddie popped her head in. “Heading home before the roads become too treacherous. You should do the same. Daniel left half an hour ago.”

He looked at his watch. Five o’clock and dark as a pit outside.

“You’re upset?” She came into the room. “What is it?”

He waved her forward to look at the monitor. He pressed play, and she stood behind him with her hand on his shoulder. Her grip tightened as she recognized Kurt, and they both watched him walk through the frame and onto his date with death with a smile on his face.

Maddie let out a long breath. Squeezed his shoulder more gently. “He wouldn’t want you to torture yourself. It was a tragedy and not your fault.”

He caught her hand. The simple human connection felt better than a thousand rounds of mindless sex. “I know.”

“Go home. Take work if you have to, but go home and get some sleep. Take a sleep aid if you must.”

“Does whiskey count?”

“Only if you don’t get drunk.”

“Spoilsport.” He turned off the monitors and closed his laptop. “You’re right, I can do this at home.”

“Will we see you tomorrow, or are you up in DC?”

“I’ll stick around here unless Armstrong tells me otherwise. Any news from the guys? ”

“Not since the murder yesterday.”

“Let’s hope they catch Leech soon.”

Maddie shuddered. “That poor woman. She’s been through so much.”

“Yeah.” Jordan wasn’t the only one suffering, and he needed to get his shit together. The only thing Kurt would ask of him would be to take care of the team, his family, and to identify whoever had brought this plane down so they could face justice.

Maddie left, and he pulled up his email to start a letter to Kurt’s daughter, Daisy, but he couldn’t get past the first line. Annoyed with himself, he decided to work on it after he’d eaten dinner. Not frozen pizza. For once he would cook from scratch.

He walked outside and got in his car, which had been fixed by the garage and checked over by TacOps. He headed off base behind a solid line of traffic all trying to avoid the worst of the weather that was forecast.

He’d stopped requesting an escort a few days ago.

It had been weeks since the incident with the truck, and he didn’t like wasting police resources.

Plus, he was trying to avoid Ellen. He could look after himself.

He kept an eye out for anyone following him, but no one did.

He relaxed a little, grateful for his snow tires and four-wheel drive capabilities as he hit the dangerous curves not far from his place.

He didn’t see the truck pull out, but high beams suddenly blinded him in the rearview mirror.

“Shit.”

The vehicle slammed into him from behind, attempting to force him off the road and down the wooded hillside.

Jordan sped up. Grimaced at the loose traction. He controlled a small skid and sped up again. He also called Armstrong on the hands-free unit.

“Truck’s behind me again.”

“Dammit. We’re calling the local police. Where’s your escort?”

Jordan winced. “I didn’t call them. Weather conditions are treacherous. ”

“Can you pull over safely?”

The steep hillside on his right and the sounds of bullets hitting his back window answered for him. “Not right now.”

His car lurched forward again as he was rammed.

He skidded and ended up on the wrong side of the road driving alongside the black truck. The driver wore a mask and pointed a pistol at him through the open window.

Jordan slammed on the brakes and controlled the skid—just—his heart hammering as the bullet missed him by inches. He swerved behind the truck, narrowly avoiding an oncoming vehicle who blasted the horn.

“Jordan?”

“Can’t talk right now.”

He put the brakes on, but his car didn’t stop.

The truck’s brake lights flared to life as it pulled across the road and tried to block him, the driver holding the pistol out the window and aiming at him, firing shots in rapid succession.

His car was fast and nimble. He accelerated and nipped through the narrow gap and careened back onto his side of the road, correcting another skid, sweat popping out of his pores.

He went around the sharp bend, and his mouth dropped open with horror as a semi came toward him and disappeared around the corner.

The sound of steel crashing against steel and glass shattering had Jordan pulling over to the edge of the road and flicking on his hazards.

He grabbed his cell where Armstrong was talking to someone else but still on the line. “Semi rammed the truck, which was on the wrong side of the road. I pulled over, and I’m on foot heading back to see what the hell is going on.”

“Be careful.”

Jordan tucked the phone into his jacket pocket with the call still connected. Pulled his weapon and ran up the road. The scene when he got there showed a jackknifed semi with the driver just climbing down from his cab.

“FBI! Stay there!” He pulled his creds and peeked around the engine block. Using it for cover. The road was empty. “Where’s the truck?”