Hunter knew coming in that all his moves were gone. "Agreed."
"Gotthard and Korbin will fill you in." Retter turned to walk away.
Hunter's phone buzzed. BAD had installed relays for underground access to cell and satellite links, but only two people should have this number. Hunter read the display. Wasn't Cynthia, and he was looking at Gotthard, whose bark-brown eyebrows lifted in question.
Hunter answered the phone. "Yes."
Rae walked out and came back with Retter.
"Now the fun begins," a smooth male voice said into Hunter's ear.
"Who's this?"
"Abigail's brother, but you can call me Jackson since you know who I am by now."
Using hand signals, Hunter let everyone know who had called. Gotthard swung around to key a trace, but this prick would not be located that easily. "What do you want?"
"To make my next task a little challenging. I'm going to Colorado for a small job. If you figure out where I am before I complete my job and leave I'll tell you where Abigail is. I couldn't harm her the last time we met because she had not been authorized. But, good news, she was included in my new list of necessary kills as of yesterday."
That's why the bastard had tried to kill her last night at the Kore center. "Where in Colorado?"
"Be serious. You have to have some challenge, too. Don't drag your feet. I gave Abigail a cocktail at Kore. Not the same one I gave her mother, but similar. She's starting to have headaches, like her mother had in the beginning. I altered the files at Kore a long time ago. Abbie and her mother have identical blood to mine so she needs my blood, too." The phone disconnected.
Hunter was going to kill that man. Not until Abbie was safe and healthy, but one second afterward. If his guess was right about this wacko, Jackson wouldn't hurt Abbie until the time came to meet. The question was, what did Jackson have planned then? Jackson wanted a game in play, which meant everyone had to be alive until the point when he decided they died.
"What'd he say?" Gotthard asked.
"He told me he's going to Colorado. If we find him before he finishes his task and leaves, he'll tell us where Abbie is."
"We have a time that may or may not be for an attack in Colorado," Rae shared. "The contact inside Fratelli said there would be a bombing at 2200 EST tomorrow, but the contact has warned us not to trust that time. We don't have a lot else, so we'll add Colorado to the mix."
"Anything significant happening in Colorado?" Hunter asked.
Korbin's iron-hard glare hadn't let up since Hunter walked in. He said, "Guess you've been too busy to keep up with world events. UK's prime minister is coming into Denver on Saturday to see a friend, then speaking at a college there on Monday. Then he heads to DC to meet with the president on Tuesday."
Hunter scratched his two-day start on a beard. "If the killer is after the prime minister it would be easier to take him out in Colorado before he meets with the president."
"Could be," Retter said. "But why's he leading you to him? Why not just tap the prime minister and not play this game?"
"Remember the Fratelli code about 'no unnecessary kills'?" When the agents nodded, Hunter said, "Killer calls himself Jackson and talks as though he holds to the Fratelli rules of no unauthorized kills. Makes sense. If not, he'd have shot me when I found him at Abbie's apartment."
Korbin scowled. "Knew you had her the whole time."
"Her mother's dying," Hunter explained for the benefit of some in BAD. Korbin's opinion didn't count. "Abbie went to the Wentworth event to talk to Gwen about finding out what happened to her mother, because her mother had been healthy when she visited Kore almost two weeks ago. Jackson just told me he gave her mother a cocktail of some sort and gave Abbie something similar last night before she coded."
Rae uncrossed her arms and leaned forward. "Is that how you got the data?"
"Not the way I wanted to, but yes," Hunter said. "We had to have Abbie's fingerprint and her blood sample taken through their machines at the same minute we accessed the Kore computer systems. So if we get her out of this we all owe her for those records."
Rae smiled slightly.
"About the killer," Gotthard said, pressing him. "Finish explaining why he wants to play this game."
Hunter walked over and leaned against the door frame. "Jackson sounds like a bored killer, handcuffed by too many Fratelli rules. He wants a challenge. Like Dr. Tatum. Jackson must have put him in a no-win situation and threatened to harm his children if Tatum didn't take the pills and commit suicide. Jackson gets his rocks off by watching people make life-and-death decisions. I've thought back on the mission in Kauai four years ago. Jackson wouldn't consider Eliot's death a kill since he shot Eliot in the shoulder, which wouldn't have necessarily been life threatening. Jackson knew there was no way for someone with a blown shoulder to get down. That bastard laughed after Eliot cut the rope."
"Eliot?"
Hunter tensed, taking in the faces in the room. "Yes. Those of you who were here then know the intel had changed by the time Eliot and I inserted into the Brugmann house. Once we found the CIA list and plans for a terrorist attack in the UK, we had to fight our way out. We'd just started rappelling when the estate went silent too soon for the FBI to have arrived. Eliot knew something had gone very wrong and that we might be the only two who knew about the terrorist attack if someone got to Brugmann's before the FBI. Eliot's leg was broken, too. When he realized he couldn't get down, he wanted to make sure one of us could prevent the attack planned for the hospital in Britain the next day. He cut his rope so I could get down."
"Fuck." Korbin summed up the room's reaction.
"Jackson was the shooter." Hunter could hear the laugh echoing in the back of his skull. "He wounded me to toy with me, to let me know he could have killed me, but I must not have been part of the sanctioned hits. It's as if he couldn't give me too mortal a wound to climb down or he'd have broken his oath to the Fratelli."
"You went to the Wentworth party looking for him." Rae had spoken her thoughts out loud.
Hunter had nothing left to shield from these agents. "Yes, but I had no idea he'd try to make a hit on Gwen. After dropping Abbie at her apartment with a transmitter I'd planted on her, I drove away, parked down the street, and doubled back. I was inside the building when I heard Jackson grab her. He wanted to see my face, but he didn't kill either of us. He popped a flash bomb and released a tear-gas canister. I carried her out and took her with me." He looked at Retter and said, "I was bringing her here that night until she told me about her mother dying. In hindsight, I should have put Abbie in protective custody and dealt with the guilt of pulling her away from her mother, because now he's got her."
Hunter turned to Rae in the silence. "That's why I didn't want you to be connected to me at the Wentworth party. I had no doubt of your ability to pull off being my companion. I was putting the mission first, but if the opportunity presented itself I was not going to pass up a chance to take down Eliot's killer. I didn't want you or anyone else hurt because of me."
Rae gave Hunter a look he hadn't expected. Her eyes softened with understanding.
Korbin said nothing, but the glare subsided.
"Abbie was in play before she met you," Gotthard said.
"Why do you say that?" Hunter crossed his arms. Felt damn good to utilize the expertise of this group to find Abbie. Gotthard had tried to get him to realize they were greater as a team than as individuals. Too bad Hunter hadn't accepted that sooner.
"Rae figured out the Jackson Chameleon puzzle," Gotthard said. "Jackson disappeared from the U.S. at three years old, but Abbie's mother had to donate blood for him five years later. I searched customs for that period of time and found clearance within a couple hours after she'd donated. The blood was delivered to a hospital in Shanghai for a child with the last name Jack."
Rae picked up the thread. "In the Asian culture a male child is called Son of, as in Jackson, meaning Son of Jack."
"So what did that give us?"
Hunter asked.
"That opened up a world of information on one Sigmund Jack who lived in the United States at the right time to have gotten Abbie's mother pregnant."
"Where is he now?"
Gotthard took over. "Dead. We traced his son's life until Jackson went into MI6 in his early twenties then disappeared two years ago. Joe tapped his UK contacts to find out MI6 is after Jackson, too. They think Jackson is behind the death of two powerful supporters of the former prime minister and possibly behind the former prime minister's death."
"So why would Jackson kill the current one, who basically opposes so many things the prior prime minister supported?" Hunter wondered aloud.
"Only the Fratelli can answer that one," Rae said.
"Then we have to find him." Hunter stood away from the desk. "He wants me there for some reason. I'm going." He looked at Retter to let him know he wouldn't be stopped.
"We'll let you go," Retter countered. "But I'm telling you now if you make any move that doesn't put the security of this nation first I'll take you out myself."
"Done. I'll leave for Colorado tonight."
Retter added, "You're not going anywhere alone."
Hunter started to argue, then realized he needed someone with him. One agent in particular. "Do I get to pick who goes with me?"
Korbin looked at Rae, then at the others. No one spoke up.
Retter said, "That'll be up to the agent."
Chapter Forty-three
Hunter stopped hiking within a stand of bare aspens protected from the wintry winds by a snow-capped granite ridge rising on his left. A single mountain chalet straight ahead sparkled bright as a spotlighted diamond in a dark room. The helicopter had deposited him and Brendan "Mako" Masterson two miles away, where they'd donned winter gear. The temperature plunged into the thirties, mild for nighttime in the Rocky Mountains in spring.
He studied the brightly lit trilevel lodge positioned innocently in a dip in the mountains north of Idaho Springs, Colorado.
A perfect spot for a private party to celebrate the visit of an international dignitary.
A perfect spot for an assassination attempt.
Mako dropped his pack alongside Hunter's, white puffs striking the cold air when he breathed. He read his watch and quietly said, "Time: twenty-one oh two, sixteen seconds."
"Check," Hunter answered.
Fifty-eight minutes until someone died.
He considered where the sniper might choose to position himself along the ridge west of the house. Tall windows stood around the curved third floor, which faced west, toward the spectacular sunsets. "Shooter could be anywhere from one hundred feet to three hundred feet up there." He nodded, indicating the obvious location for the closest shot through the glass windows. "I'll determine the prime minister's position in the building. You cover the grounds and see if the shooter's got any eyes down here. Once we split up, stay far enough off me that he doesn't see you or he'll change the game."
"Got it." Armed heavily and dressed in a pewter-gray arctic suit just like Hunter's, Mako's wide frame melded into the night when he moved away.
Hunter owed him for agreeing to be his backup. No one volunteered, that's for sure. With a little luck, he'd figured Jackson's intentions correctly.
If not, Abbie would pay for his mistake.
Bile stung his throat at the thought of her out here terrified, because Jackson would have to keep her close enough to play out his next move.
Thinking about that instead of the mission was fruitless and dangerous. He had to focus to have any hope of getting her back alive.
Hunter moved around to the left, lifting his binoculars to study the quiet cocktail mixer going on. All activity appeared to be contained on the third level of the seven-thousand-square-foot vacation home belonging to British friends of the prime minister.
The UK leader came into view among a group of men, allowing no clear shot... yet. Hunter's radio clicked once.
Mako had detected someone on the grounds.
Hunter lowered his binoculars, searching for... there. A tall man with a thick build moved carefully from the building to vehicles strewn across rutted, snow-covered ground to...
Hunter focused in on the man's right cheek... a scar.
Fuck a duck. There was the guy who had been in Brugmann's compound in Kauai and at the Wentworth party.
Need a location, Gotthard," Joe said, striding across the research analyst's area in BAD's underground operation center.
Gotthard hit the refresh button on the chat board where he and Linette left posts on Saturdays. They used a different site for every day of the week and the seven chat boards changed monthly. "Everyone set?"
Joe paused. "Yes. Twenty teams spread across the country, ready to contact bomb squads and emergency warning systems in every city. Plus our five best bomb specialists. If the detonation time for the bomb was twenty-two hundred Eastern Standard Time it would have happened already. Must be tied to the Colorado event if it's really going down tonight."
"Too bad we don't have twenty demolition experts as good as Korbin."
"No shit."
Gotthard hit the refresh button and Linette's message appeared. "Got something." He decoded as he copied her text. "She sent coordinates. Strike is in Chicago in twenty-three minutes."
Joe stabbed the air with his fist. "Fucking A! Retter and Korbin are in Chicago. Get the coordinates to Retter and I'll contact local authorities for emergency management in Chicago."
Gotthard picked up his phone, hoping Linette had covered her ass with the Fratelli. She was obviously involved up to her neck.
Retter straddled a Suzuki GSX-R motorcycle, studying the traffic rolling past Chicago's courthouse. Citizens unaware their city might be scheduled in some terrorist's Day-Timer for tonight. He glanced around at his team, who were on identical black Jixers.
Korbin, their demolitions expert, had a backpack full of any tools he needed. He was armed with a 9mm in a shoulder holster, but Rae, Jeremy Sunn, Nathan Drake, and Retter would cover his ass if Korbin had to disarm a bomb.
Drake's beefed-up body dwarfed the bike. His weathered look had been earned in the big house when he took his twin brother's place in prison after his sibling was conned by a drug lord. That had been on the heels of Drake's tour of duty as a Special Forces soldier. Sunn had spent his share of time in lockup, but mostly under orders, though he'd come to BAD with his own rap sheet. His blond hair stuck out haphazardly when he removed his helmet that was now hooked on a handlebar.
Rae hadn't twitched a muscle in a while, her helmet on and latched, backpack slung across her shoulders. Tall, toned, and tough, she wore a thin all-weather suit in black like the other agents.
Retter's phone beeped through his Bluetooth. He pressed the button. "Go ahead."
Gotthard said, "Got a location. Chicago. Clark Street Bridge and Lower Wacker. Bomb detonates in twenty-one minutes."
Ending the call, Retter spoke into his transmitter, passing the information to his team. "Take off, Korbin. We're right behind you."
Korbin flipped his face shield down and rolled on his throttle, squealing rubber in a streak as he left.
Retter took off right behind him. Korbin wove between cars then cut over after a truck to take a fast right turn. Retter followed around the same curve, pressing hard and leaning close to knee dragging the pavement. He straightened up quickly before plowing between traffic cluttering every lane ahead.
Korbin sliced over to the sidewalk, which had little foot traffic. Some guy jogging in sweats flew up a set of steps. Korbin zigged and zagged, blaring his horn and missing anyone in the way. The pedestrians he passed had vacated the sidewalk by the time Retter and the other three bikes roared down.
Retter slid around the corner when Wacker Drive turned right. He faced a wall of people running away from the Clark Street Bridge. Gotthard and Joe had contacted local police by now, under the guise of being with the FBI, ordering the police to put out announcements for evacuation of
vehicle traffic and pedestrians anywhere near that bridge. Joe would have informed Chicago PD an FBI bomb squad was heading to the scene on motorcycles, which gave Retter and his team a half hour before the PD showed up. Maybe.
If the time for the detonation was accurate a half hour would be plenty of time. Unless they didn't disarm the bomb.
Retter slammed on his brakes, his back tire coming off the ground, then dropping down. He kicked the stand down and climbed off the bike, pulling out his FBI windbreaker. Rae parked and pulled her matching jacket on, then shouldered a high-powered LaRue Tactical OBR rifle. All four of them plowed through the crowd.
"I'm at the base of the bridge," Korbin's voice said calmly in Retter's earpiece.
He hated fucking bombs.
"Got it," Korbin muttered, indicating he'd found the bomb. "Still scanning... shit... see a second one."
Retter stopped at the top of the bridge on the south side, sending Sunn and Drake across to cover the north bank of the river. Rae didn't slow until she reached the park area below and to the southeast side of the bridge. She had the best vantage point to keep an eye on Korbin's movement and any unexpected activity beneath the bridge.
"Goddammit," Korbin said.
Retter said, "What's wrong?" He leaned over to see Korbin swinging under the bridge, using his hands to carry his weight and the backpack.
"Five, repeat, five bombs." He was breathing faster with the exertion. "Let me get a look." Silence for a few seconds, then, "Material appears possibly uranium based, but not a large amount."
Retter had seen Korbin teaching Rae how to disarm minimally complex bombs in seconds. Let this be quick and simple. "How much time will each one take to disarm?"
"First one might take five minutes. Next ones will be faster." But Korbin didn't say how much faster.
Not encouraging.
Retter scanned the mass of panicked people moving away from the bridge and flooding out of the buildings, adding to the chaos. Korbin was one of the very best. Since the bombs didn't contain much uranium, maybe the team would get lucky and the bombs would turn out to be duds. But amateurs didn't normally use uranium.
His phone buzzed again. When Gotthard's voice came through, Retter jumped to the point. "We got five bombs--"