Freefall (3 page)

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Authors: Traci Hunter Abramson

Tags: #Abramson, #LDS, #Action

BOOK: Freefall
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The shock faded and was replaced by concern. “Do you think they'll make it?”

“They have a good chance.” Brent studied her, pleased that she was already working through her shock. “If not, they'll land and have to carry the wounded out or hide until it's safe to send another chopper in after them.”

Amy took a deep breath. “What about us? Are we waiting for another helicopter?”

Brent shook his head. “The city is too dangerous to risk sending in another crew to look for us. We're going to have to take care of ourselves.”

“And you're okay with this?” Disbelief filled her voice, and again she questioned his sanity.

“Just part of the job.” Brent motioned for her to stay where she was while he went to the far side of the roof and retrieved the pack his teammates had dropped. As soon as he was beside her once more, he opened the black backpack and started pulling out pieces of clothing.

“Here, put these on.”

Amy started to question why, but reconsidered. She pulled the black pants over her sweats, noticing for the first time that her pant leg was torn. She then proceeded to do the same with the matching hooded poncho. When she finished, she turned to find Brent staring at her. She felt her cheeks flushing under the intensity of his gaze.

“Look, before we start out, you need to understand what we're up against,” Brent started. “Insurgents are taking over sections of the city, and we have no idea how hostile it's going to get. If I tell you to do something, you can't take the time to ask questions. You just have to do it.”

Amy sighed with resignation. “This will be a lot easier for me if I understand what we're about to do.”

“Fair enough.” Brent motioned to the escape ladder on the far side of the roof. “We're going to start by going down that ladder. If the street is quiet, we'll try to move out of the city. If not, we're going to find someplace to hide out for tonight. Either way, we're going to make our way to the nearest port, where we'll secure transportation out of here.”

“Please tell me it's going to be as easy as you make it sound.”

Brent shrugged. He needed her trust, but he wasn't going to lie. “I'm afraid this job doesn't come with guarantees.”

* * *

Amy saw Brent's hand go up, signaling for her to stop. She pressed her body against the building they were passing and froze. He had explained that in their dark clothing, if they could stay in the buildings' shadows, they would be invisible to anyone passing by. The trick was staying perfectly still and not looking at them.

She heard footsteps approaching and concentrated on keeping her breathing steady. Not looking up when she heard voices took considerable effort, but thankfully they faded into the distance instead of moving closer. Without a word, Brent tapped her shoulder and started quietly down the alleyway once more.

Amy followed Brent silently, perfectly aware that he held her life and her future in his hands. Without him, she would remain lost in this country that was now on the brink of civil war. Finally, after what seemed like hours of slipping through shadows, they reached the edge of the city.

Something rumbled in the distance as they emerged onto an empty street. In front of them was nothing but darkness. In the distance, the black sky was beginning to turn a deep blue, indicating that the sun would be up in less than an hour.

Brent turned to her and spoke in a low voice. “How are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess.” Amy shrugged. “Why?”

“That noise in the distance is enemy tanks coming in to occupy the city. We need to put some miles between us and them.” Brent pointed at the still-dark eastern sky. “There's nothing but open desert for the next five miles. We have to get past that before the sun comes up.”

“Just point me in the right direction.” Amy shook out her arms and ignored the pounding of her heart.

“Let's go.” Brent started out at a brisk pace, following the paved road. Less than a mile later, he left the main road and veered off into the sandy desert.

Amy kept up with him, ignoring the way her calves were tightening as she continued to push herself. The lack of sleep was starting to wear on her as the adrenaline that came from fear began to subside. In the distance the sky was lightening, and she could only wonder how far they had already gone.

They came over a rise just as the sun started to break through. Below was a cluster of buildings, a dilapidated car parked next to one of them. Brent crouched down behind an outcropping of rocks and motioned for Amy to do the same. He just stared for a moment, his body motionless. Then he eased himself down onto the ground and pulled out his canteen.

Amy sat down beside him, reaching her hand out when he passed the canteen to her. She took a sip, concerned that the canteen only appeared half full, and the desert and rocky terrain in front of them stretched on as far as she could see. Though it was still spring, Amy knew how hot days in Abolstan could get.

Glancing over at Brent, she started to ask what came next but suddenly was wary of making any sound. He had his binoculars out and was scanning the nearby hills. He then turned his gaze back to the buildings below.

As the horizon lightened, Amy looked around, realizing how vulnerable they were. If anyone flew overhead, they would stand out in their dark clothes against the desert sand. The night chill was also quickly dissipating, making her wish for somewhere to change so she could shed her extra pair of pants.

Wearily, she settled against a rock and let her eyes droop closed. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept, and her arms and legs felt like lead. The noise of an engine startled her awake, and Brent put a hand on her shoulder to hold her down so she wouldn't reveal their position. Fully aware of the danger, she nodded, unsure how long she had dozed.

She heard a vehicle driving away and wondered how long they were going to just sit there. Five minutes passed before Brent moved once more. “Stay here. I'll be right back.”

Without any further explanation, he moved down to the buildings below. The minutes stretched out as Amy struggled with her current reality. What would she do if something happened to Brent? How could she possibly find her way out of this country by herself? She didn't have any identification or money. In fact, the only things she did have were the clothes on her back.

At least thirty minutes passed before Brent finally reappeared at her side. Over his shoulder was a canteen fashioned out of leather, and his dark hair was now covered in some sort of cloth head-covering similar to what she had seen many of the locals wear. He held a similar headpiece out to her.

“Put this on. We're going to move into the hills and find some shade so we can get some sleep.” Brent offered her a drink from the water bag. “When it cools down again tonight, we'll try to put some distance between us and the city.”

“Exactly how far do we have to go?”

“It's not too far,” Brent assured her with a quick grin that belied the seriousness of their situation. “We should be able to make it to the coast in two or three days.”

“Days?” Amy's eyes widened. “How many miles are we talking about here?”

“Less than a hundred.” Brent started toward the hills. “The faster we get into the hills, the sooner you can get some sleep. Trust me, you'll feel better once you get some rest.”

“I'll feel better when I'm back in Virginia,” Amy muttered, but she stood and obediently followed.

CHAPTER 3

“Have you heard anything yet?” Senator James “Jim” Whitmore cradled the phone next to his ear, his arm around his wife, Katherine.

FBI agent Doug Valdez's voice came over the line from his office in Miami. “Let me check and see if any more news has come through in the past hour or so. It will just take a minute.” His close friendship with the senator's eldest son, Matt, had made him practically part of the Whitmore family, and he just prayed that any news he found would be good news.

Jim held back a sigh as he looked down at his wife's normally serene face. Anguish and worry showed in her eyes as they continued to wait for news about their only daughter. Jim supposed it should be easier getting information about Amy from Doug Valdez than from someone they didn't know, but right now all he wanted was to hear that Amy was safe and on her way home.

Across the room, Charlie, the younger of their two sons, paced back and forth. He had the look of his father, standing a few inches over six feet, with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. At twenty-four years old, Charlie's only cares had been earning money for law school and balancing an active social life until he had received the phone call about his sister. His easy-going manner had disappeared in an instant, and he had immediately joined his family in focusing on one goal: seeing Amy safely home.

After an interminably long minute, Doug's voice came over the line again. “It looks like we do have some new developments.” He took a deep breath before speaking once more. “We have every reason to believe that Amy is still okay,” he started. “The special unit we sent in crossed the border early this morning with the hostages. Unfortunately, Amy wasn't with them.”

Jim's heartbeat accelerated and his hold on his wife tightened. He forced himself to ask the obvious question, “Then where is she?”

“She's still in Abolstan. There was a problem with the helicopter. One of the team members stayed behind and will bring her home. Unfortunately, because the insurgents have taken over the capital city and some of the surrounding countryside, we expect it to take a few days for them to make their way to where they can secure transportation.”

“This can't be happening,” Jim muttered even as he turned to his wife and mouthed that Amy was okay. “Do we have any communication with the man escorting her?”

“He does have communication equipment with him, but he likely won't risk using it for fear that it might be traced,” Doug informed him. “We expect that he'll make contact with us as soon as they're out of the country.”

Jim closed his eyes for a moment. His baby girl was somewhere behind enemy lines and he couldn't do anything about it but trust some man he had never met to bring her safely home. He glanced over at Charlie, who was waiting with anticipation for any news, and then asked about his oldest son. “How is Matt holding up?”

“He's worried,” Doug admitted. “He's here in Miami for his game tonight, but he has tomorrow off, so he's going to head up to Virginia after his game ends.”

“It will be good to have him home.”

“There's one more thing, Senator . . .” Doug hesitated. “You and your family have to proceed as though Amy is with the other hostages. If the press realizes she isn't with them, they'll start announcing to the terrorists that she's still in Abolstan. We're going to try to keep the story quiet until she's safely home, which shouldn't be too difficult since most of the hostages will be in the hospital for at least several days.”

Jim closed his eyes as reality overwhelmed him. “I understand.”

As soon as he hung up, he relayed the information to Katherine and Charlie. Then he did the only thing he could do: he knelt down with his wife and son and prayed for his missing daughter.

* * *

Brent bowed his head in prayer, silently running the words through his head for fear that if he said them out loud they might be heard by more than just Amy Whitmore. His five-man unit was the only one he knew of that was made up entirely of Latter-day Saints, and they had long ago established the practice of opening each day with a prayer. He wasn't about to change that habit now, especially knowing that he still had to go eighty miles with a civilian in tow before he could secure transportation to safety.

He ended his silent prayer and turned to look at Amy sleeping just a few yards away. Her color was better than it had been the night before, her hair falling loosely over the hard ground. In more ways than one, she wasn't what he expected. From her photo, he already knew that she was beautiful and vibrant. He hadn't realized, however, that she was six feet tall. That fact was actually helpful at this point, since she could pass for a man as long as her hair was hidden and she was wearing baggy clothes.

Still, as the daughter of a U.S. senator, Brent had expected her to be more trouble. She hadn't made the common complaints yet about fatigue, their sleeping arrangements, or the food. She had instinctively rationed her water intake as though she, too, was aware that what little they had would have to last. Throughout the night, despite her exhaustion, she had kept up without too much trouble. And she didn't speak unless she was spoken to, allowing him to concentrate on their mission of getting out of here rather than worrying that she might start jabbering at an inopportune moment.

He imagined she had spent a few weeks of her teenage years “roughing it” in girls' camp, though he doubted she had ever expected to use any of her basic survival skills in the middle of the desert. Just about everyone in Virginia knew that the Whitmore family was LDS, and Brent hoped that Amy had a deep well of faith to rely on over the next couple of days.

He pulled his gaze away from her and looked out over the horizon. The sun had already dropped behind the hills in the distance, and he hoped to set out in less than an hour. As the heat started to dissipate, he thought of how different this assignment was from the experience that had started him on this path.

He had only been seventeen when he and three teammates had been on their way back from the state high school swimming championships. Suddenly a blizzard hit in southeastern Virginia. His coach, who also happened to be his mother, made the decision to stop for the night when they were at least twenty miles from any towns. Still she had managed to find them shelter, even though it ended up being the top-secret variety.

One of her friends had been a chief of something-or-other at “The Farm,” the training facility for the Central Intelligence Agency. He hadn't been happy to see five civilians on the doorstep of the secure location, but he had made arrangements to house them until the storm passed and the roads were cleared.

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