Tall, Dark and Lethal (14 page)

He dashed to the right, out of sight, dragging Bailey after him, hoping no one caught the movement. None of the men rushing down the hall were looking their way.

But someone must have seen them, because a shout rang out and boots thudded on the floor, coming toward them.

“Go! Go! Go!” He ducked into the maze of cubicles.

As long as they kept down, they’d be hard to spot. They moved forward swiftly, playing hide-and-seek for many long minutes. But he knew they didn’t have much time left. The men who hunted them must have realized that the fire was a serious threat, because they called to each other with increasing urgency.

Then someone quieted them, and Cade popped up because he needed to know how many men were up here and where they were located.

But as soon as he stuck his head out, he was greeted by a barrage of bullets. And cubicle walls weren’t bulletproof—far from it.

He swore under his breath as he dashed to the left, then to the right, to the right again, Bailey close behind him. He could hear her breathing hard. They’d been rushing through the floors, searching as fast as they could, stopping only when it was absolutely necessary to keep from being discovered. She wasn’t a trained soldier. She was winded, and he knew it wasn’t going to work like this. He had to go faster and quieter.

He stopped when he got to a metal supply cabinet, opened the door and mouthed, “In there.”

Her eyes widened. She shook her head.

He raised his eyebrows. They didn’t have time to argue. She must have understood that because after giving him the evil eye, she slipped in to crouch on the bottom shelf.

He knew what he had to do, but he had trouble leaving her. He was certifiable. As if to prove that, he reached into his pocket and held out his last hand grenade.

Her face said it all. “Are you crazy?” she whispered.

Yeah, he was. Crazy worried about her. He closed the door, leaving an inch or so for air, before he quietly rolled a chair in front of it and moved on. He used the discipline he’d gained over nearly twenty years of active duty to put Bailey from his mind and assess the situation around them.

He couldn’t face all the men at once, but he had a fair chance if he went after them one by one. He stopped to listen and heard a sound on the other side of the cubicle wall to his right. Whoever it was, he was moving west. Cade stole east to get behind him and used his knife. The guy went down quietly. Cade made it to his side in time to assure that his AK-47 didn’t clang against the desk.

He could smell smoke up here now, too. Time to get out of this death trap. He heard another noise to his right and crept toward it. Two men. Damn. He was good with the knife, but not that good. Explosives had been his specialty. But his C4 had gone up with his house.

And blowing up the building you were in was never a good idea, anyway. At least, that was what his SDDU trainer had told him way back when. So he opened fire on the men, then ran like hell before their buddies could get there to see what was going on.

The next guy he heard, he shot straight through the gray, cloth-covered cubicle wall. Hell, the cat was out of the bag now, anyway—they all knew that someone was up here. Better that they came after him than found Bailey.

He moved forward. It was a search-and-destroy mission, clear and simple. His senses were sharp, his mind focused. He didn’t think of the men he took down—all he thought of was finishing the job.

Clearing the maze of cubicles took him less than ten minutes. He went back for Bailey.

She was no longer in the supply cabinet. Had she gone off to look for Zak?

If there were no other complications, if she already had Zak, there was a slim chance that they could make it to the roof and he could call the Colonel for a chopper before the flames and the smoke made a helicopter’s landing impossible. On second thought, he’d make that call now, just to be sure. Cade hung up before the Colonel started shouting.

He had smoke in his nose now, good and deep, the acrid smell infiltrating his brain. He could smell and see that other fire, four months ago. Pachi. He shut the images down. Couldn’t go there. Wouldn’t go there. He couldn’t let doubt in, nor his old rage, nor fear—not if he wanted to succeed. He would find Bailey. And if any tango harmed as much as a hair on her head, he would rip the bastard’s heart out with his bare hands.

He moved on to another row of offices. The first was empty. The second was, too. He was running for time now. Empty, empty, empty. Until the very last one.

A regal-looking man in a white caftan sat, flanked by two bodyguards whose rifles were aimed at Bailey’s chest. He briefly registered the large walk-in safe in the back. There were no other men, and no way out.

The boss had a weapon, too—a funky-looking handgun pressed tight against the back of Bailey’s head.

Everyone had their fingers on the triggers, everyone watching to see what move he might make, nobody wanting to catch the first bullet.

Tension was visible on the men’s faces, except for the boss. He looked a little like Ruvaraj on the day when Cade, based on a tip from Pachaimani, had finally busted up a major money transfer he was completing for a new terrorist group. This man, like Ruvaraj, had a solemn look to him. He thought himself a called man, a holy man, believing that nothing and no one could come between him and his purpose.

He didn’t know Cade.

Images of that last fight in the deepest hell of Indonesia flickered in his brain, and he let them come, let them give him strength. He had led the charge on Ruvaraj’s compound. But it hadn’t been a surprise attack. He’d been betrayed by one of his assets—Smith, a mercenary turned businessman. Smith had been feeding the U.S. information for years. They hadn’t known that he was playing both sides.

The mighty Ruvaraj died that day, as Cade had promised Pachaimani. And Pachaimani already had his sister, hidden under his tiny bed right in the compound. Cade had promised to take them out to safety once the place was cleared. But he couldn’t keep that part of his promise. Before he could get Pachaimani out, Cade was mowed down and caught some shrapnel in his lungs, courtesy of Smith. His team had barely been able to keep him alive long enough to get him out of there.

But this wasn’t going to end like that.

The bastards had Bailey. But he had a plan.

Bailey watched with wide-eyed shock as Cade dropped his weapon and stepped away from it.

Her hopes crashed to the floor along with his semiautomatic. Sweat rolled down her face. She gasped for air that was growing hotter and hotter, choking on smoke and on her own fear as panic squeezed her lungs.

The two guards moved to either side of Cade, anger on their faces. But in their stiff movements, she recognized some of the fear she felt. They knew the building was burning.

“The authorities know where you are and what you are up to. You have three hostages,” Cade said. “You need us all alive.”

The man in white examined Cade first, then Bailey. “Why are you here?”

“For Zak,” Bailey said. “Please. He’s just a kid.” She coughed as smoke scratched her throat. “We have to get out of here.”

“He will be dealt with.” The man spit the words out, his tone laden with anger.

Will?
That meant he was still alive. Oh, thank God. “Is he here?”

The man pushed his gun harder into her skin, hate burning in his eyes.

“The FBI knows about your plans. They are on their way.” Cade lurched forward, but the two guards yanked him back.

The man only sneered. “Too late. My sons already left.”

“They know about Air Africana. They are turning the plane around.” Cade was only half bluffing. The Colonel had said the plane was in the air already by the time they figured out what was going on. But information would have been radioed to the pilot immediately, and emergency measures had likely been taken. “This building is on fire. There’s no way down. The staircase is out.”

She didn’t know if he was scaring them or not, but he was sure scaring her. She really, really hoped he had some kind of a backup plan. Especially since the fire was so close now that the building was creaking, popping and groaning, making it hard to hear what anybody said.

“Nobody has to die.” Cade wouldn’t give up. “We can all go to the roof and call for a rescue helicopter. You get the boy and we all go.”

“Our sacrifice will make a difference. We die as heroes. We will die praying. Pray with us.” The leader stepped back from her. “Whatever needs to happen will happen.”

But his idea about what needed to happen was apparently different from Cade’s. The second that gun was taken off her, Cade broke free of the guards and leaped into the air, his boots connecting with the guards’ rifles. Before they could recapture their weapons, he had killed them both with his bare hands.

Three days ago, she would have thrown up at the sight of such violence. Now she was diving for one of the AK-47s. A bullet pinged by her ear. She whirled to shove the gun in the boss’s face without hesitation before he could get another shot off. “Where is my nephew? Where is Zak?”

The smoke was thickest around the door to the staircase, spreading through the floor. It hovered along the ceiling.

Desperation gave her strength. “Where—is—Zak?” she asked as Cade collected his own gun and the other AK-47. “If you don’t tell me where my nephew is, I’m going to shoot you, so help me God.”

Cade was approaching to back her up.

A strange thing happened then. An odd expression slid over the man’s face. He held her gaze, but the light had gone out of his eyes and a stillness came over him. Then, with a lightning-quick move, he put his hands over Bailey’s, and before she could do anything, he squeezed the trigger.

As if in a nightmare, she saw the man fall. Blood was everywhere. Then she was pressed against Cade’s chest. She needed the comfort of his strong arms like she’d never needed it before, but they had no time.

“How will we find Zak?” She pulled away, looking at the bodies of the two guards on the floor. No one was alive to tell them where Zak was.

As much as she had wanted to find the kid here, now she was beginning to hope that they were wrong about him being in the building. He would be safer just about anywhere else. The chances of them making it out of here alive were getting slimmer by the second.

Cade let go of her and walked to the giant safe in the back.

She hadn’t thought of that. She hadn’t thought of much but how to survive from one minute to the next. She stared at the keypad in the middle of the safe.

Cade banged the butt of the AK-47 against the steel door. “Zak?”

She began shouting, too, slamming her bare fists against the barrier. “Zak? Are you in there?” She prayed for an answer while Cade was examining the keypad.

“Can you open it? Is there a way to override it?” She coughed. The smoke was becoming thicker and thicker.

“I know people who could, but there’s no way to get them here in time.” He banged with the rifle again.

She coughed so hard that she doubled over and slid to the floor, her lungs burning. Cade crouched to the same level. “It’s better to stay down.” He put a hand on her shoulder. He searched her face and she knew that he was considering grabbing her and taking her out. But when he opened his mouth, he said, “Where is the grenade I gave you?”

She scrambled toward one of the guards and tried not to look at all the blood as she reached into the dead man’s pocket. “Here.”

Cade tapped the safe door again. “If you’re in there, stand back.” He pulled the pin, leaned the grenade against the bottom of the door and grabbed her, diving for cover with her in his arms, straight through the office door, rolling to the side.

Bang!

Debris and dust flew by them, pouring out of the safe. She followed him in without hesitation, blindly. And as the air somewhat cleared, she could see the inside of the safe at last, beyond the violently twisted door.

A still form lay on the floor, tied and gagged.

“Zak?” She rushed forward, but Cade was bringing him out already, cutting his ropes.

“Can you walk? Keep low.” He went down, pulling both Bailey and Zak with him.

The kid was clearly rattled, his red-rimmed eyes widening as he looked at her. “Aunt Bailey?” He coughed as smoke entered his lungs. “I’m so sorry. I heard the FBI talking to Dad about your house. I only did this to get back at those men. I didn’t realize…After the FBI, I got in touch with them and told them it was all a joke, that it was all off. I never thought they’d try to hurt you. But they found out where I was and they—”

“You had something to do with these men?” She was too stunned to process the implications. “What were you thinking, Zak?” She wanted to wring the kid’s neck.

They rushed after Cade to the staircase, into the smoke and heat, which was a hundred times worse behind the staircase door.

“I’ve been trying to hack into odd systems, looking for links to terrorists. I just wanted to find them, then tell the CIA.”

“Are you crazy?” She grabbed his wrist and dragged him after her.

“Up, up, up,” Cade called back.

Hell burned below them. They didn’t need too much encouragement.

“I found some e-mails and stuff. I wasn’t sure. There was a lot of coded stuff I didn’t get. I figured if I set a trap—”

“God, this can’t be true. You know how much trouble you are in? You know that you almost got us killed?”

Cade broke open the metal door to the roof. Then they were outside, where the air was a little more breathable. But the advantage was only marginal and temporary at best. The wind whipped around the black smoke that drifted up the sides of the building, flames licking the edge of the roof.

Zak’s eyes were bright red. “I never meant for any of this to happen. That plane went down and I…It seemed like the perfect trap to set.”

“I’m going to tell your father to send you to military school. And this guy here—” she nodded toward Cade “—is going to help to get you in.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Bailey.”

I could strangle this kid.
But she really wanted to hug him for all she was worth, and keep on hugging him forever. “We’ll discuss this later.”

“Do you think Dad will be mad?”

Livid. But she couldn’t think about that now. There was no rescue chopper in the air and no time to call one.

No way down.

Sirens blared all around; she could see fire trucks and police, tons of them. But no ladder could reach all the way up here.

She dragged her nephew to her at last and wrapped her arms around him tight. “Oh, Zak. You should have never gotten involved with this. But whatever you did, I’m always going to love you.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Bailey. I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t get to reassure him that it didn’t matter now. A chopper drowned out her voice.

“Come on, guys,” Cade said. He ran toward the middle of the roof, where it was free of vent stacks.

Hope leaped in her heart. She dragged Zak behind her. But instead of setting down, the chopper hovered. “What’s wrong?”

Cade surveyed the roof, a tight look coming over his face. “Not enough clearance.”

Then the chopper’s door opened, and a guy appeared. A rope ladder unfurled next, swinging wildly in the wind. But Cade caught it.

The whole idea seemed insane. She didn’t have time to panic. She pushed the boy toward Cade. “Take Zak first,” she said.

“Can you take him?” asked Cade.

“Are you crazy?” He wanted them both safe, and while she appreciated that, she also knew that she didn’t have the necessary strength to get Zak into the chopper.

“I’m coming back.” Cade stepped up on the bottom rung, showed Zak where to put his feet, then put his free arm around the boy and held him tight. Then he signaled to the pilot.

For a moment, before the chopper pulled up, Cade looked straight into her eyes. “I’ll be back for you, I swear. Do you trust me?”

“With all my heart,” she shouted over the ungodly noise as the chopper rose up and banked to the left.

Then she was alone on the top of a burning roof. The flames had spread to the tarp on the back corner of the building, moving closer and closer to her. She pulled her shirt up and covered her nose with it. She was dizzy, her lungs burning from smoke inhalation. She sat down, pulled her legs up and rested her forehead on her knees.

No matter what happened to her, Zak and Cade were going to be safe. She kept her focus on that.

“W
HAT DO YOU MEAN
the chopper can’t go back?” Cade shouted, wishing to hell that he hadn’t left his weapons on the roof.

The FBI boneheads weren’t listening to him, and the Colonel was on his way to JFK airport to wait for the plane which was turning around. The Colonel had called to check in and see how things were going on Cade’s end just after the chopper had set down.

Since the Sub-Saharan Security Council was on board, Air Africana had requested and received several air marshals for the flight. They successfully disarmed the terrorists once information had been passed along to the cockpit. All was well, all passengers safe.

But Bailey was dying on the roof.

“The updraft from the hot air is too much. You barely made it out. As bad as it is now, it would take down the chopper. Look, there’s zero visibility up there.”

“I know there’s zero damn visibility. There is a woman up there.” He climbed right into the man’s face. “Do you understand that?”

D
AMN AUTHORITIES WERE
here. FBI. Cops. Firemen. He had hoped the fire would take care of Palmer for him, but that hadn’t happened. Which meant he had to take matters into his own hands. He was done delaying. Whatever Palmer was involved in was just getting messier and messier. If it had to do with money, he’d figure that out later and see if anything could be salvaged. He was ready to make his move. Chaos reigned around the fire, and Palmer was going to play into his hands.

“I’
M SORRY
. L
OOK
,” the agent was saying.

But Cade wasn’t in the mood to look. He shoved the guy aside and headed to the fire truck nearest the building. Water splattered back and down from the burning walls as men in yellow suits and oxygen masks fought to control the blaze.

He went to the east side, where the fire hadn’t taken over yet. Only one guy was assessing the situation there. “I need your suit and tank,” he said.

“Get back, sir. You need to get out of the way.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have time to explain.” He knocked the guy out—he hated doing it, but not as much as he would have hated losing Bailey. That wasn’t an option.

He was suited up in two minutes, on his way to the truck that he’d seen next to the fire escape earlier, with its ladder extended all the way, reaching to the seventh floor. But some idiot stepped in his way as Cade tried to go around the corner. And he wouldn’t move.

What the hell?

He recognized the features altered by a bad blond wig and a mustache at the same time that he spotted the gun. He barreled forward, movement in the full fire suit cumbersome and way too slow, wishing for a weapon once again.

David Smith squeezed off a shot, nicking the suit. Cade was on top of him the next second. But grabbing him wasn’t easy in asbestos gloves. Damn Smith. So this was why none of his contacts had been able to find him in Indonesia recently.

Cade shoved his visor up with his shoulder. “What in hell are you doing here?” he shouted as they rolled.

“You would have come,” Smith shouted back, looking like a man who thought he had the advantage.

“Damn right.” Cade rolled them again, nearly losing his grip on Smith’s gun hand. Damn the suit. He swore and slammed the front of his helmet into the man’s face, heard the visor crack, then saw the blood bloom between Smith’s eyes.

The bastard was right. Cade would have gone after him, even to the farthest reaches of hell. Smith had betrayed him that day. He was never going to forget that. He was never going to forget Pachi. He was never going to stop until Smith was dead.

But he’d been slowed down by the fact that he couldn’t get any information on Smith until recently, when he’d finally contacted Abhi under a false identity and the guy had indicated that he had a lead for the right price. He could have contacted Abhi sooner. Could have gone to Indonesia himself to scare up some leads. But something had held him back. A glimpse of normal life perhaps. The anticipation of daily fights with Bailey, the sparks that flew and watching her sometimes through the window as she arranged and rearranged her crazy garden art in front of the house, cinnamon hair blowing in the breeze.