“There are four Sikorsky Superhawks in a clearing about an eighth of a mile southwest of Yellowhammer’s entrance.” It was Orlando. The Superhawk was a troop-transport helicopter. “You said you thought they might be leaving soon. If so, this is how. I got Marion on the other side of the fence, so I’m going in for a closer look.”
That was it. There was no follow-up message. He couldn’t call to get an update, either. The minute he’d open his mouth, those in the hallway would hear him. But at least he now knew how they planned to fly out. Not a plane. Helicopters.
He fired a text off to Orlando.
Status?
He didn’t wait for a response before sending a second one, this time to Nate.
Have u heard from O?
He thought for a moment, then decided a third was in order.
Be ready. They’re moving tonight. Be advised they have hostages. More soon.
He chose Peter’s name from his addresses, then hit Send.
Another thirty seconds passed before he got any response. It was from Nate.
Last radio contact 30 min ago when she took M out. Have tried to reach her since, but no reply. U need me to come to u?
Quinn typed:
No. They’re starting to clear out of here. O left message she spotted helicopters. Meet up with her. Disable them if u can.
It took Nate ten seconds to receive and reply.
OK.
Outside the room, another gurney rolled past. Once the noise of the wheels had faded, Quinn eased the door all the way shut. There was nothing he could do now but wait.
Wait, and hope he wouldn’t be too late.
Peter had pulled all-nighters before. Hell, half the time he felt like he lived at the Office’s headquarters, the rest of the world seldom conforming to Eastern Standard Time.
But tonight was different. He had a team in the middle of some serious crap, but his client, the only person who could provide the help they would need, had all of a sudden gone AWOL.
“I have visual confirmation from my agent on the ground that your man Furuta has been detained at Yellowhammer,” he had told Chercover the last time they’d talked.
“Visual?” Chercover asked, his tone unconcerned.
“I have a photo.”
“Send it to me.”
“What was he doing there?” Peter asked. “I told you I was sending a team in.”
There was a pause. “I wanted my own eyes on the ground.”
“That worked out well.”
“Is there anything else?” Chercover asked.
“I assume you’d like us to see if we can extract him.”
Again a pause. “If the opportunity presents itself.”
Before Peter could say anything else, the line went dead.
That was the last time he’d been able to get through to Chercover. He’d started calling every ten minutes, but each time the line had gone directly to voicemail.
And now with this latest text from Quinn it looked like whatever was being prepped at Yellowhammer was going live, but Peter had no means with which to stop it. It was obvious now the threat had always been real. It would have been more than enough for Chercover to get actual government forces into action. But where the fuck was he?
Peter had other contacts he could go to, but it would mean bringing them up to speed, which would delay any help. Still, he didn’t see that he had any choice. The only question was who to bring in?
He pulled up his contacts list on the screen of his laptop and began scrolling through it.
There had to be one, someone who would trust him. Someone who could make things happen in a hurry.
CHAPTER
36
THE SOUND OF SEVERAL LARGE ENGINES WINDING up startled Marion. She’d remained hidden behind the rock outcropping where the woman, Orlando, had left her. The buzzing electric fence they’d passed under was only a hundred feet away. She’d heard the familiar whirling roar before, back in Africa. Not a truck engine, not even a jet. Helicopters, and by the sounds of them, large ones.
To her it meant only one thing: those who had taken her and Iris were about to escape. But did they still have
