they might start to ask themselves other questions: Why on Earth would anybody leave their luggage there? What possible reason could there be?
The flatscreen was clean, no damaging files on it; she’d run the burn program. The cell phone was iffy. It looked fine, just another commercial model, tens of thousands of them around. There weren’t any numbers programmed into it, and they’d have to be real inquisitive to take it apart and discover there was hardware and software built in that scrambled calls, coming or going.
But — just for the sake of argument — suppose they did that? Mary Johnson goes toddling in to collect her missing bag, and security — in the form of Jasmine Chance, who obviously bore Ms. Mary no love whatsoever for moving in on her Roberto real estate — decides to have a long chat with her? International waters, no constitutional rights, that would be, well… bad.
That word seemed to be cropping up a whole lot in the last few minutes.
Okay, she decided, that was what she would do. She would go to ground, find a hidey-hole, and stay there, see if Alex showed up. If so, good. If not, she’d worry about that when she got there.
Where to hide?
She had an idea. Probably the last place they’d look if they decided they needed to find her.
Chance called Santos into her office. He came in, a slow stroll, as if he had all the time in the world. He was like a big tomcat, coming and going as he pleased, not going to hurry for anything.
She wanted to slap him.
“Okay,” she said, “whatever problems you and I are having, they have to go on hold now. We need to get this done, and we can sort the rest of it out later.”
He shrugged. “Problems? What problems?”
Now she
Santos looked at his watch. He had an hour and a half before he needed to leave. Plenty of time, since he was all packed, and since he could take the private launch to the copter platform without waiting for the regular boat. Maybe he should go and find that secretary? Fifteen minutes would be more than enough time to relax them both, no? Time enough for a shower afterward.
Why not?
He headed for the Security Cam Center. If she was still on board, she would have passed in front of a glass eye recently. The computer system that ran the surveillance gear couldn’t search for a particular person, but it could, within limits, hunt for kinds of people. Women, brunettes, a certain size, smaller or larger. All you had to do was tell it what you wanted. Well. Generally. The computer probably wouldn’t appreciate what he really wanted, and it couldn’t see that as long as she had her clothes on anyway.
He smiled.
Michaels stood in line behind Lieutenant Fernandez, who was behind Jay. General Howard was already on board the Sikorsky. They all wore touristy civilian clothes, and carried assorted sizes and shapes of luggage. The bags were a little heavier than what most tourists would be bringing, but there weren’t any metal detectors to pass through before boarding the choppers, so that didn’t matter.
Everybody in the passenger line was from Net Force. At a different hotel helipad ten minutes away, another group of Net Force troopers stood in a similar line. Jay had booked them all into two flights, making sure nobody else would be on those particular craft but them. Well, except for the copter crews, and they weren’t going to be a problem, the general had assured him. They didn’t know the passengers were anything other than folks going to gamble. If something unforeseen happened, John had his own pilots who could take over.
It was simple enough. They would fly out to the helicopter barge, take the boat from there to the ship, and infiltrate the ship. It was not a direct assault, it was an undercover operation. By the time security on the ship realized it, it ought to be a done deal. Much less likely there’d be any shooting this way, and less chance of civilians getting wounded by accident. A pretty clever idea, actually.
Though Michaels had planned to stay in Quantico and wait until it was over, Toni’s failure to report wouldn’t let him do that. Right up until the last minute, he was hoping she’d call, but she didn’t. And he wasn’t going to let his people and all their hardware go without him, not as long as Toni was on that ship.
It wasn’t politically or tactically smart, but hey, hell with it, he was the boss. At least for now.
The line moved along easily, with a military precision. Michaels had to grin at that. The copter’s crew wouldn’t have any idea their passengers were all part of the same group. Jay’s work had made them appear to be from all over the country, singles, couples, a trio of college friends, no reason to think they were anything other than tourists.
As he climbed the short flight of steps into the craft, Michaels heard two troopers, a man and a woman, talking to each other.
“So, this your first trip to Florida?”
“No, actually, my family used to vacation here when I was a girl. Of course, that was up north, a little town called Destin, near Fort Walton Beach.”
“Wow. I had an uncle who was stationed at the Naval Air Station at Pensacola. Small world.”
Other troopers talked, establishing their cover. Michaels felt a nervous twinge in his belly, a quick flutter. He found a seat, tucked his bag between his feet, and buckled himself in. John had lent him his body armor vest. It was folded into the bag, along with a plastic handgun and a com headset. Since he had no active role in the mission, Michaels was supposed to find a secure spot and stay out of the way until the ship was secured, but if trouble popped up, he’d be able to communicate and he’d have a weapon and some protection.
He hoped Toni was all right. Yes, she could take care of herself better than most people, but even so, she wasn’t a superwoman. Something could have gone wrong. Probably it was nothing — weather, crowded flights, her phone on the blink, that was all. But he couldn’t help worrying. He loved her. And if she was all right, he didn’t care how much she hated it, he was never going to send her into the field like this again.
35
Keller had checked the operations center and everything was fine. Well, as fine as it would get. Chance’s hurry-up was going to cause big problems. His team was good, the best, but they couldn’t walk on water. They were at eighty-five, eighty-eight percent readiness, and if Omega launch was tomorrow, they wouldn’t be able to improve on that. He had them all running full blast, and as soon as he had a chance to take a shower, get into some fresh clothes, and grab a quick bite, he would be right back there with them. He hated this. He wanted ten-for-ten for his part, but eight or nine was going to have to do it.
Maybe Santos the sociopath and his team of mouth-breathers could take up the slack. Not Keller’s fault if they couldn’t. He had been given a timeline, he had kept to it. If they wanted to hurry him along, fine, but in that case, they couldn’t bitch about his work.
The door to his cabin stuck. He had to wipe the keycard three times to get it to open. Just one more little glitch in his life he didn’t need. He flipped on the lights, went into the bedroom, and sat on the bed. Took off his shoes, his shirt, and undershirt. He was reaching for his belt buckle when a woman said, “I think that’s enough for now.”
He jerked around so hard he nearly fell down.
A short little brunette stood there in T-shirt, jeans, and running shoes.
“Who are you? What are you doing in my room?”
“Nobody you know, Mr. Keller. What happened to you? You get caught in a riot?”
She nodded at his bruises, which had developed several different shades of brown and purple.
“I’m going to call security,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid you can’t do that.”
