The Missile Game (The Dr. Scott James Thriller Series Book 1) (17 page)

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Drone Control Center

3:30 pm

I FELT THE BROWNING press to my head. “Dr. James. You’re a dead man. With the two of you gone, I’ll have no more enemies left in the world.”

Waters held the gun perfectly against my head while he stared at Keyes.

“You’ll get the death penalty for shooting us.”

“I was never here.”

Waters pressed the pistol harder against my head and sa
id to Keyes, “Reach into my desk and get my handcuffs, won’t you, my dear?”

Keyes brought out the handcuffs and Waters said, “Put them on, both of you.”

Waters motioned me forward to join her.

Keyes and I were now chained to the wall railing.

A small speaker at Waters station squawked: “Alpha Charlie, do you read me? This is Edwards. I need you right now! Where are you?”

Turning to me, Waters said, “James, it’s your lucky day. Edwards just gave you a ninety-second reprieve, but I’ll be right back.”

Waters went to his control chair and faced Edwards in the monitor. “I’m here,” he said as he placed the Browning to his side and activated the computer system. “What’s our status? Is there another target?”

“Affirmative. There’s a suicide bomber coming for you.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Drone Control Center

3:32 pm

“HOW DO YOU KNOW that?”

“The intelligence people at Camp Peary. They’ve intercepted two messages from a terrorist group near you. One confirms that a vehicle driving toward you is a suicide bomber. The other message says there’s also some sort of missile scheduled to launch. We’re betting you’re the target.”

“Understood.”

“We have your Predator from Peary airborne at this time. The DE Laser is ready. This’ll be a good test for you. You can kill that bomber. He’s only three miles away.” Edwards said. “Hold on … I’ve got another message.”

Waters went to the fuse box behind the computer and flipped off all electrical power to the RV. With the heavily tinted windows, the bus was dark, barely lit by a battery-operated lantern.

Red and blue lights flashed in the windows. The police had clearly taken up a position nearby, but it was impossible to tell where, or how far away.

I said to Keyes, “Sounds like even if the suicide bomber doesn’t get us, the missile will.”

“I’m sorry, Scott. Farok betrayed me.”

Waters ran to the door.

I called out, “You can’t just leave us.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect time. To the police I’m just another frightened soul, evacuating the area. The whole, beautiful, ‘missile game’ will take care of everything else. I won’t even have to dirty my hands with your blood.”

“But what about all the innocent people in the hospital? There are over a thousand people in there! Patients and nurses and doctors! People you’ve known and worked with for years. And think of all the workers and volunteers and visitors. Let us die, if you must, but save them!”

“And blow my cover? No way. Let the hospital be leveled to the ground! Then maybe I’ll collect the insurance money and federal government disaster money as well. I’ll double my fortune. And all those poor ‘innocent people’—well, surely you’ve heard of ‘collateral damage,’ Scott.”

He turned to the door and called over his shoulder, “Say ‘Hi’ to that missile for me.”

“Please, Herb, let us go!” Keyes shrieked.

“Let your lover, Farok, free you.”

He grabbed the knob.

“WAIT! … Aren’t you forgetting something? The Rolex Farok gave Elizabeth. It’s probably worth half a million dollars.”

Waters stopped in his tracks. He turned around and walked over to Keyes. Grabbing and twisting her arm, he took a minute to admire the jewel-studded watch: ten flawless, three-carat diamonds on the bracelet band, a multitude of two-carat emeralds on the face of the watch, covered all over with one-carat diamonds and emeralds. Waters knew real precious gemstones when he saw them. “I’m going to rub this in Farok’s ugly face someday,” he said.

He jerked the watch from Keyes arm and ran to his Aston Martin.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Drone Control Center

3:35 pm

I RIPPED A SIX-INCH piece of wire from the wall panel attachment. Handing it to Keyes, I said, “Here, I believe you do this sort of thing in your line of work. Unlock the cuffs.”

Keyes didn’t blink. She looked over the wire for a moment, then bent it carefully and precisely and inserted it into the slot. The lock released, and off slid the cuff from my wrist.

The moment she’d freed herself, she yelled, “The bom
ber and missile will be here any minute!”

“Not if I can help it.”

I flipped on the electricity to the bus.

“What are you doing? We have to get out of here! Now!”

My mind flashed on the casualties and damage the weapons aimed at the hospital could do. Despite Keyes’ contention that Farok was bombing only the drone control center, I suspected that the combination of his suicide bomber and his missile would be enough to wipe out the whole hospital. The few lives I’d altered in my medical career were like a grain of sand compared to the lives that would be lost and the people who would be maimed within minutes, if I didn’t do something.

Turning to Keyes, I said, “You go. Save yourself, but I need to stay and do this.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“I’m not going until I try one last thing.”

Power returned at precisely 3:35 pm.

Edwards’ voice boomed through the BAMUS monitor: “Alpha Charlie! Alpha Charlie! The suicide bomber is only a mile from the hospital! He’ll be there in less than three minutes! Where are you? Please respond!”

I went to the control chair. “Colonel Edwards, you’re too late. Charlie made a getaway. He’s not the good guy you thought. It’s a long story; I’ll tell you about it someday. Right now, we’ve got more important things to do.”

Edwards jaw dropped open. “Get the hell out of there!”

“No. I’m going to take out the suicide bomber myself or die trying.”

“Hold on a damn minute!” Edwards bellowed. “Who the hell are you?”

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Drone Control Center

3:36 pm

“I’M DR. SCOTT JAMES. I’m a plastic surgeon.”

“What the
fuck
? I don’t need a fuc
king boob job! There are two tons of TATP in that car, enough to blow up that whole hospital!”

The power of the bombs only strengthened my resolve.

“I know, and I’m going to stop that son of a bitch,” I said. “I watched Waters operate this, and I can do it. I know the terrain around here like the back of my hand and I bet I can pick off your bomber.”

Edwards muttered, “No way. I can’t have an untrained operator—”

“Let me do it!”

“You sure you can really do this?”

I turned to Keyes. “Leave now, just in case I miss my shot.”

Tears came to her eyes. “No. If you die, I want to die with you. Besides, you may need me.”

“
Go!
” I yelled. “It’s too risky.”

“Shut up and do this.”

On the monitor, the system was tracking a speeding car. I zoomed in to get a closer look at the car: a gold Cadillac Seville, its rear-end almost dragging on the ground as if something very heavy was in the back seat and trunk. I zoomed in for a close-up of the driver: a middle-aged woman with long, black hair and dressed in a maroon thobe, trimmed in gold, with a green breast plate. Despite a maroon scarf draped around her face and pinned at the neck with an ivory clasp, her face was readily recognizable.

“Anna Duke,” I whispered.

“I’m absolutely certain that’s a suicide bomber,” Edwards said. “I see this all the time in Afghanistan and Iraq. The back of that big Caddy is almost touching the ground. Can you see the sacks of TATP in the back seat? Several thousand pounds of it. And the mason jars with grenades lying on top of the TATP? They’re detonators. The glass breaks with any collision, and the handles of the grenades fly off.”

Edwards turned from the screen for a moment and then came back. “That’s not only a suicide bomber. That’s Nicole Banzar, a terrorist on the international most-wanted list for the bombings in London and Madrid. Her code name is ‘Quasart’”

“Oh my God. Anna is Nicole Banzar?” Keyes said. “Farok sent her to kill me. I know about TATP. Two tons of it will level the entire hospital and a good part of Jackson City. I never wanted that. Scott, you have to kill her.”

One of the monitors showed an aerial map of the hospital campus. The car was approaching from the south.

“You’ve got about one minute before Quasart reaches the hospital.” Edwards shouted.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

Drone Control Center

3:37 pm

“WHAT IS THE DRONE armed with?” I asked Edwards.

“A fully charged DE Laser gun, with enough power for eight shots.”

I put my total concentration on the job at hand.

Edwards was standing on his chair, getting as close to the monitors as he could. He looked at his watch. “Damn it, Doc, hurry!”

Taking a deep breath, I moved the X ov
er the target.

Pumping both fists, Edwards bellowed, “That’s it! You’re on it! Now fire!”

“No, I’m moving too fast!”

I pushed the cross behind the car and touched the trigger lightly. The first beam struck twenty yards behind the target. “The controls are making allowance for the speed differential.”

“Damn it, James, I told you—that’s a DE Laser! It moves at the speed of light! You have to put the X directly on the car and fire!” Edwards beat on his chair as he yelled. “Aim and fire again! Now!”

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

Hospital Way

Jackson City, North Carolina

3:37 pm

AS NICOLE BANZAR DROVE the gold Cadillac Seville toward the hospital, she could hear the sirens.

She pressed the gas pedal to the floorboard. She could see the hospital and the Emergency Disaster bus behind it. Her destiny with Allah was before her eyes! She was just seconds from attaining the greatest feat of her life. She heard the voice of her great God, calling her home. Her turn had finally come. Now, she would give her life to Allah. His faithful servant was on her way to Heaven.

Suddenly a blinding light lit up her rearview mirror. She could see the six-inch ball of brilliant white and orange flame hover over her. “Allah is here! He will save me!” she said aloud.

A split second after that she felt the heat, as her body was totally incinerated. The steering wheel turned to jelly as Banzar’s hands vaporized. The vinyl seats melted, the electrical wiring liquefied, and the entire car glowed. The gas in the tank and in all six cylinders boiled for a fraction of a second before exploding all at once and detonating the two tons of TATP.

CHAPTER SEVENTY

Drone Control Center

3:37 pm

EVERYONE IN AND AROUND the hospital heard the gigantic explosion.

Keyes screamed, “Oh my God!” She suddenly started jumping up and down. “Oh my God, Scott! You killed her!”

Edwards appeared on the screen. His uniform was wet with sweat. He shook his head. “That was too fucking close for comfort.”

Our reverie in taking out Quasart was brief.

“Don’t start celebrating yet,” Edwards said. “There’s still a rocket coming at you.”

“I can take care of it.”

“It’s a Silkworm missile, targeted at the drone command center. It’s thirty-four miles away and traveling 950 mile
s per hour. That means it’ll be there in less than one minute. I don’t think you’ll be able to shoot it with the laser. Just run and save yourself!”

“No, it’s too late.”

“Then fucking do it! That Silkworm will be down your throat in thirty seconds.”

Keyes shook her head. “Omar knew we might be able to stop the suicide bomber. That’s why he ordered the Silkworm, too.”

I sighted the X on the Silkworm as the count ticked to twenty seconds. “You have six shots left in that DE!” Edwards bellowed. “Shoot, damn it! Shoot!”

For some reason, I felt calm, as if I had complete control of the situation. I fired a shot.

“Fuck! A hundred yards short!” Edwards screamed.

I let go a volley of three shots as I moved the DE gun forward along the path of the missile.

“Short again!” Edwards yelled. “Two shots, seven seconds left!”

I quickly moved the DE forward and centered it on the Silkworm. This time, I had it.

Just as I pulled the trigger, the missile swerved to the left.

“You missed!” Edwards screamed, “Get out of there before it hits you!”

Keyes looked at me, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry I got you into all this.”

Without taking my eyes off the radar, I nodded and reassured her. “If my instincts are right, we’re gonna’ be just fine.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

Crittendon Road

Jackson City, North Carolina

3:38 pm

TEN MILES FROM THE hospital, Herb Waters turned onto a scenic road that was little traveled except by weekend nature lovers. He’d thrown Keyes’ cell phone out the window, in the event it had some type of tracking device.

With the Aston Martin’s 510-horsepower engine, he could hit sixty in four seconds and quickly accelerate to speeds in excess of 100 miles per hour. He’d tested the Aston on country roads in America as well as on the Autobahn in Europe.

Cruising along now at 100 miles per hou
r, Waters smiled at the thought of Keyes and James being killed.

He then heard a whistling sound.

Waters looked left and right and then in his rearview mirrors. It was the missile. It wasn’t headed for the hospital; it was coming at him. Hunching over the steering wheel, he pressed the accelerator to the floor. But the missile kept coming. A millisecond later, Waters and his car exploded.

Drone Control Center, Jackson City

3:38 pm

We heard a distant
pop
.

“I think that was the Silkworm missile blowing the shit out of Herb Waters.”

Edwards’ image immediately appeared on the screen. “What’s happening? Did the hospital take a hit?”

Before answering, I quickly moved the cameras on the drone to the site of the last explosion. Then, I smiled and turned to Keyes. “That Rolex wasn’t a watch. Not exactly. It was a beacon.”

“Fa-
rok
,” she whispered.

I looked at Edwards, and explained, “The Silkworm hit its target, which wasn’t the hospital or the control center. It was a transmitting beacon inside a watch, which just happened to be in Herb Waters’ Aston Martin.”

“How do you know that?” Edwards asked.

I stared at Keyes sparkling eyes. “The watch kept getting slower. A good watch like that won’t lose five minutes in a hundred years. So I knew somebody had fiddled with it. That, and it occurred to me that the casing was too big. Those jewels were on there to disguise the true size of a casing big enough to handle a transponder.”

“That son of a bitch,” Keyes hissed. “He put a marker in that watch!”

“He knew you’d find Waters and the drone center. That’s why he gave you an extra day on your contract—so he could kill you and Waters at the same time.”

“I’m too old for this stuff. My heart can’t take it,” Edwards said, as he wiped the moisture from his face. Every stitch of his clothing was soaked with sweat. He chuckled a little. “Dr. James, I can get you a job, replacing Charlie. I think I’ll like working with you a lot better than that goddamn Waters!”

Edwards took a deep breath and held his hand to his headset for a moment. “We must catch Farok while he’s in the area. Ms. Keyes, or whoever you are, where were you when you last saw Farok?”

“And Jorad Hormand,” I interjected.

“Hormand? She saw Hormand?”

I looked at Keyes and asked, “You know, don’t you?”

She just looked down.

I answered my own question. I looked at the monitor and said, “Farok and Hormand are one and the same. I searched Keyes’ room when she was out and found a photograph. It was the same picture as the one circulated of Jorad Hormand. I’d seen it in several newspapers. Elizabeth, please tell us about that picture.”

She hesitated before responding. “Omar likes masquerade parties. I was with him a year ago when he tried to fool me one night with that disguise. A beard, heavy eyebrows, a plastic nose and cheeks, padded inserts for his stomach and butt, elevator shoes, the whole bit. It was so real. And, yes, the photo of Hormand is Omar in that disguise.”

I wasn’t surprised.

“I analyze the faces of people in photographs for a living, or at least I used to—before all this happened. Something was wrong with the face.”