Phantom zero, p.12
Phantom Zero, page 12
Sara laughed again. She kissed Mischa’s cheek, then pulled away. “All right then. Let’s get going.”
The two girls walked back into the house. Sara’s heart thumped in anticipation. Finally, they were going to do something. Finally, she was taking action and not hiding with that constant drone in her ears.
“Grab the beer,” Mischa said. She thought for a moment, then said, “Just one. I do not drink, and you don’t like beer. Meet me in my bedroom.”
“Definitely not that beer,” Sara agreed.
She grabbed one of Alan’s Ethan Allen Brewing Company Give me Death to Imperial Ale. Dumb freaking name. Mischa disappeared, presumably to find the sedative.
Sara was surprised to find she actually wanted a beer for herself. Now that she was finally on the cusp of achieving her goal, she was anxious that some last-minute failure would ruin it for her.
Just stay calm. Be like Mischa.
She chuckled at that. Mischa was superhuman. She wasn’t an emotionless robot—Sara was wrong to say that—but she was as far from normal as it was possible to be. She made Zero look downright ordinary.
Exactly. If you’re going to succeed, you need to be like her. That confident. That decisive. That vicious.
She felt a ripple across her mind, not quite uncertainty but something like it. Despite her earlier display of confidence, she was well aware that she might not survive this.
But this really was the only way to fix her head. She had to try. And if she died in the attempt, at least the noise would stop.
She walked into Mischa’s room. Mischa took the beer wordlessly and popped the tab. She poured a small vial of liquid into the beer and swirled it gently.
“That won’t hurt him?” Sara asked.
“No. It’s a fast-acting but relatively weak barbiturate. It will put him to sleep for an hour give or take. He will be fine.”
“Okay.”
Mischa met her eyes. “This is your last chance to stop, Sara. Are you absolutely sure this is what you want to do?”
Sara had already asked herself that question, so she didn’t hesitate. “I’m sure.”
Mischa nodded. “Very well. Let’s go.”
They found Alan in his office. He was watching his monitor, a dark frown on his face. When Sara saw their house, she started. “Are you working with Dad?”
Alan sighed and shut the screen off. “Yeah, but he’s still waiting for the bad guys to show up. I was reviewing some old footage trying to figure out how exactly they jammed the IFF software but not the cameras. Which is probably just useless busywork, but since I can’t…” He flipped his hand. “Anyway, no need to ramble. What’s up, guys?”
“We were just walking around,” Sara said. “I got bored and decided to try one of your beers. They are as shitty as the name.”
Alan frowned and took the can from her without even asking. “You guys just don’t appreciate the craft.” He took a long swig and pointed at Mischa. “You better not appreciate the craft. Not until you’re at least five years older.”
“I will be older than Sara is now,” Mischa pointed out.”
“Yep.” He grimaced. “Huh. This does taste weird. I wonder if they used different hops with this batch?”
Sara controlled her expression, but she could feel her anxiety rising. What if this didn’t work? Shouldn’t it be working already? What if it just made him groggy but didn’t knock him out? What if he called Zero?
Mischa, on the other hand, was as cool as ever. “Perhaps you could tell Sara the story you told me the other day, about Zero’s humorous encounter with the streetwalker in Venice.”
“Oh.” Alan reddened and glanced at Sara. “Did I tell you that story?”
“You did. I found it funny, and I am sure she will as well.”
“Well… Let me start by saying that he didn’t do anything to your mom. I mean against your mom. I mean, he didn’t cheat. He…” He blinked slowly. “Damn. Whatsis? Whatsin… What…”
His eyes widened. He looked at the girls and mouthed, “Oh, shit. Guys, nnn…”
He slid to his knees and pitched forward. Sara and Mischa caught him and gently lowered him to the ground.
“We must go now,” Mischa said. “I will not bind him. He will wake up and call Zero immediately.”
“Yeah, of course we’re not going to tie him up,” Sara said. “Let’s go.”
They ran up the stairs. Sara’s heart was thudding again. She grabbed the keys to her Honda Civic and jogged to the vehicle, Mischa right next to her.
“Just drive straight there,” Mischa said. “Forget the side roads. We must move quickly and be gone before he wakes up.”
“Right,” Sara said. “Got it.”
They jumped into the vehicle. Sara started the engine and sped out of the driveway. The Honda’s tires spun on the soft dirt surface before catching on the hardpack forest road that would lead them to Lovettsville and the highway that would take them to Langley and Sara’s apartment.
And from there to face her demons once and for all.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Zero frowned at the house he had called home since the early days of his marriage with Kate and reminded himself that patience was the key to this stakeout. He couldn’t expect Meridian to materialize right in front of him just because he was eager to get this over with.
He was parked in his old Ford Ranger pickup, just down the cul-de-sac from his house, waiting for the Meridian vehicle to show up so he could follow it to wherever Meridian was stashing their army and take them out before they could kill his daughter. Or involve her in any way.
He hadn’t told Alan that part. Officially, he was going to tail them and give Alan information so they could plan an assault. That wasn’t going to happen. Zero was going to end this Meridian threat himself once and for all. In the bed of his pickup, underneath the tonneau cover, he had an M250 machine gun with four two-hundred-round ammo pouches. He was going to wipe them all out himself and come home to tell his family that the threat was eliminated.
It won’t be eliminated. You know better than that.
He didn’t allow that thought to proceed to its conclusion. Unfortunately, Kent Steele refused to let him believe that lie.
They’ll send more. They’ll send better. They’ll start talking to the politicians in your pocket. Todd will get a phone call from Director Harris about you.
“He won’t betray me,” Zero said out loud. “He’ll have my back.”
He sure will. And it will affect his career too. And Penny’s. Possibly even their lives. You’ll find yourself right back in the same boat you were with Mr. Bright.
He gritted his teeth. “Then I’ll sink that boat too.”
Sure. With the help of your family and friends. Just like last time.
Zero didn’t reply, and after a moment, his inner monologue laid the blunt, cold hammer down. You’re only postponing the inevitable. Mischa and Sara are involved in this. They will remain involved. You’re better off accepting that, and—
“Be quiet.”
And thankfully, Kent was.
Zero took a deep breath and released it through his nose. Ever since coming back from his self-imposed exile, the different sides of his personality acted as separate individuals. At home, he was Reid Lawson, father. In the field, he was Agent Zero, supremely capable, utterly unstoppable, and fiercely loyal.
And in moments like these, grappling the greatest threat to face his family in years, he felt Kent Steele creeping in: cold, ruthless, unforgiving, violent, and cruel. He liked Kent Steele least of all, but he had to admit he was useful. Just not when he was reminding Zero how impossible it was to avoid the very thing he wanted to avoid.
Zero sighed and looked glumly out at the night sky. The Meridian spies had scoped out his house at about ten-thirty the previous night. It was now after midnight, and the only thing he’d seen that was remotely suspicious was one of his neighbors trying to sneak into his own house, probably so his wife didn’t wake up and see the much younger woman in the driver’s seat of the car that had dropped him off.
Be patient. They’ll come. They’re not going to let Mischa go.
His lips thinned, and his hands tightened around the steering wheel. Just let them try to hurt her. They’d learn very quickly why that was a mistake.
An alarm chimed on the laptop sitting on his passenger seat. Zero looked at it, and his heart quickened.
A van was approaching the right turn into the cul-de-sac. It was a different model than the one the previous night but of similar age and disrepair. When it made the right turn, Zero zoomed in with the rear camera of his truck and checked the plate. The same rental agency as the previous van.
Zero’s heart started to pound. He calmed it, using techniques he’d learned from his early days in the CIA. He needed to be Kent Steele right now, not Reid Lawson.
The van passed directly in front of the truck. Zero tensed, but the van’s occupants—two women and a man this time, none of them from the night before—didn’t so much as glance their way. Their eyes—and their cameras and sensors—were only for Zero’s house.
The van stopped in front of his house. Zero wondered if his neighbors had noticed anything weird. If they had, would they do anything about it? In Zero’s experience, most civilians didn’t like to involve themselves in anything that looked dangerous. It had been a local sensation when those hitmen tried to kill Mischa, and while Todd had managed to keep the story out of the newspapers, he couldn’t make the neighbors unsee the event. No doubt they all hoped that the Lawsons’ absence would lead to quiet in their neighborhood.
The van remained in front of the house for five minutes before pulling away. During that time, the terrorists didn’t once step outside. Maybe they were scanning the house for thermal signatures and once they confirmed no one was inside, they left. Zero waited until the van turned onto the street back the way it came, then started the truck. He activated the small radar unit Alan had installed and followed the van, keeping his headlights off and a distance of at least a half mile between them and the van.
The van followed the residential streets through McLean, carefully avoiding the main roads. Zero was grateful for that. He didn’t want to have to explain to local law enforcement why he was driving with his lights off and a radar tracker in his truck.
The van used residential roads until it reached the outskirts of McLean, then turned onto a forest road that provided scenic access to the rural areas of eastern Virginia, not to mention access to some secluded paths that would allow ample room for a criminal organization to stockpile weapons and mercenaries for an attack on a certain family.
“Good, because our buddies just drove onto a much rougher access road.”
Zero was about to turn onto the road when another, much louder, alarm sounded. He flinched, then pulled to the side and stared at the laptop. Just in case he wanted to convince himself that he wasn’t seeing what he was seeing, the laptop helpfully informed him that there was a perimeter breach at the cabin.
Three perimeter breaches, actually. One in the perimeter zone, one in the middle zone, and one in the cabin itself where the front door had been breached.
The blood drained from Zero’s face. He forgot about the van and gunned the motor, flinging his headlights on and speeding down another forest road. This one would approach the cabin from the back, but it was faster than driving back the way he came and taking their ordinary route.
He dialed Alan’s number. The call went to voicemail.
“Shit! Damn it! Alan, if you can hear me, call me back. Use the radio if it’s easier, just tell me if you guys are all right. I saw that there was a breach. I’m on my way back now. Get out of there if you can and call me.”
He hung up and tried Sara next. No answer. Mischa didn’t answer either.
He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Shit. Damn it.”
He wiped his hand across his face and tapped the wheel as he pushed the truck as quickly as he dared. The old vehicle bounced and jerked over the rough road, but he didn’t slow. The enemy could be at his house right now.
Had they lured him out? Was that the purpose of the van? That could explain why they just sat in front of his house for five minutes before driving away and taking a route that would lead him away from the cabin.
Take a breath, Zero. Just get back to the cabin and assess the situation. Don’t make assumptions.
Easy enough to say, but with his daughters in danger, being objective wasn’t really possible.
The headlights bathed the trees in a surreal glow, as though Zero was driving through a dream. The world faded into shadow beyond the range of his lights, and the murk seemed to fight closer and closer, desperate to surround him in darkness.
He tried Alan again. No response. Nothing from the girls either. He looked back at the laptop. Just the three breaches. None since then. A small force, then, probably just a few highly trained assassins like the ones that had attacked Mischa six weeks ago. That shouldn’t be enough to stop Alan or Mischa, and even Sara could likely hold her own, but if the assassins caught them by surprise, then they might have finished the job before the three of them could react.
The thought that he might be walking into the dead bodies of his loved ones nearly overwhelmed Zero. He took deep breaths, inhaling sharply and forcing them out through his teeth. They’re fine. They’ve all been in this position before and come out fine. They’re not civilians. Except for Sara, but she’s not a normal civilian. And you’ll be home in a few minutes. It’ll be okay.
He checked his speedometer. Forty-five miles per hour. At that rate, it would take about forty-five minutes for him to complete the journey to Alan’s cabin.
“Few minutes, my ass,” he growled.
He pushed the accelerator down further. It wasn’t wise to drive this quickly on a marginally maintained forest road, but the truck had four-wheel-drive and sturdy all-terrain tires. And if he damaged it beyond repair on his way to save his family, so be it.
He called Alan a third time. No answer.
“Shit,” he hissed. “God damn it.”
He thought of calling Todd, but at this point, a helicopter would reach Alan’s cabin at the same time Zero did. Todd had enough on his plate trying to prevent the entire world from suffering. He would help if Zero asked, but Zero’s oldest daughter and her fiancé were out there risking their lives too.
No one was safe. His entire family was in goddamned danger.
Just like before. Just like always.
He waffled between anger, despair, frustration, and guilt the rest of the drive back to the cabin. As he drew close and the transponder in his truck interacted with the weapons Alan had placed, he looked around for a sign of battle.
He found none. None of the weapons appeared to have fired. Had the terrorists jammed the perimeter sensors so the breach alarm was activated but none of the weapons could fire?
He pulled the truck to a stop in front of the cabin and jumped out, drawing his handgun. The machine gun wasn’t practical in confined spaces.
The door was closed. And undamaged. There was nothing out of place anywhere. Even the grass growing around the driveway wasn’t marked.
He frowned. What the hell was going on here?
He checked the handle. It clicked and hissed as the steel bars locking it unlatched, detecting Zero’s presence. He pushed the door open and entered, handgun sweeping the room as he checked for enemies.
And found none. The living room was clear. No sign of anything out of the ordinary.
He sighed heavily. Was this a damned malfunction?
He risked calling for the others. “Alan? Sara? Mischa? Are you guys here?”
No answer. His suspicion flared up again.
He moved through the cabin, continuing to call for them, coiled like a spring, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
“Guys? Is anyone home?”
No answer.
Did they go somewhere, and Alan just forgot to turn the alarm off? But where would they go? And would Alan really be stupid enough to defy Zero’s wishes after everything?
No, he wouldn’t. Something had happened. Just not what Zero thought.
He descended the staircase, keeping his handgun ready just in case the assassins were lying in wait for him. He reached the bottom floor and stepped out, sweeping his gun across the gym just like he did the living room. Nothing. The weights were all racked. No sign of a struggle.
What the hell?
A groan grabbed his attention. He whipped his handgun toward the noise and saw Alan lying on his back in his office.
“Oh, shit,” he cried, rushing forward and holstering his weapon. He burst into the room and was assaulted with the smell of beer. An empty can of the swill Alan liked to drink lay on the floor with a liberal amount sprinkled on Alan’s shirt.
You’re kidding. He’s fucking drunk?
But that didn’t seem right either. Alan liked his beer, but he was never a hard drinker, even less so since leaving the CIA. And he had just been forgiven for screwing up his friendship with Zero once before. Why would he—
Then Zero realized. The answer was obvious. If it were anyone but his girls involved, he would have understood immediately. It was only because it was them that his mind didn’t jump straight to the only possible solution to this little puzzle.
“Oh, God,” Alan groaned. “What the hell?”
He rubbed his eyes and blinked stupidly up at Zero. “Zero? What happened? Where’s the girls?”
“They’re gone,” Zero told him. “They spiked your drink and left.”
Alan blinked a few more times. Then his eyes widened. In a much clearer voice, he said, “Oh shit.”
“Yeah,” Zero agreed. “That about sums it up.”
His girls were nothing if not resourceful. And stubborn. Under other circumstances, he might have been proud.
But these weren’t other circumstances. They were playing with fire inches from the fuse to a nuclear bomb. They had ditched the babysitter and were now rushing headlong into more danger than they were prepared to handle.
