The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,73
with the hostage negotiations and facilitate a prisoner exchange.
If all went according to Titan’s plan, the Feds wouldn’t have to raise their weapons, and Hagan would forever be in Jared’s debt.
“Hagan, if you want …” Camden stomped his boot and ground the floor like he’d crushed a cigarette. “I’ll take care of the asshole for you.”
If anyone would put their hands on William Taylor Morris, Hagan had first dibs. He cracked his jaw and ignored the offer. Too much hung on the line to let his concentration break.
“I mean,” Camden’s voice crackled over their comms. “After this is all said and done. Just say the word—”
“Shut up,” Chance growled into his mic. “Get focused.”
Stay focused. Hagan dropped his head and replayed the plan.
“Midas, do you copy?” Parker called from Titan Group headquarters.
“Roger that, Zulu,” Chance answered.
“Ground force commander’s continuing to hold their position.”
Hagan rubbed the back of his neck. Their success depended on ground command’s patience. They had to have faith in the negotiators. The negotiators had to believe what they were doing was right.
“Boreas,” Parker spoke to the pilot, “target vehicle approaching, westbound.”
“Roger that, Zulu.” Boreas gained altitude. “No visual.” They hovered above a rest stop west of Charlottesville and waited to sight the ambulance. Once in view, it wouldn’t be hard to miss, even without flashing lights. The US Marshals followed closely, facilitating the prisoner’s transportation down the interstate in the middle of the night. “Possible visual.” The radio garbled the transmission. “Zulu, one bus. Three JPATS. Target confirmed.”
“Copy that. Stay with ’em,” Parker said.
“Already am.”
Hagan hadn’t felt the forward propulsion and imagined the stealth copter was invisible to the fleet of news choppers that had followed the ambulance from afar since it left Butner Federal Medical Center.
“Smooth skills,” Camden mumbled.
“That’s why they call me the wind god.” Boreas chuckled as though this were any normal black op job. “Sit tight and enjoy the ride.”
If Hagan hadn’t been about to face his brother’s killer, he might even have smiled.
“BamBam Rescue,” Parker announced. “Ready to deploy.”
ACES unfastened and stood. Each checked for last-minute gear adjustments. Chatter between Boreas and Zulu crackled. Their altitude decreased, and the hatch opened for the low-altitude drop. They had precisely ten seconds to land five men on the ambulance as it rumbled over Mechums River on a bridge the length of a football field.
“BamBam Rescue, to the door.”
Liam handed Sawyer and Camden a line, kept one for himself and Chance, then handed the third one to Hagan.
“Ready, BamBam Rescue?” Parker asked.
“Affirmative, Zulu.”
“Boreas?” Parker said.
“Traveling steady,” the pilot answered. “JPATS remain close.”
Hagan had no idea what the prisoner transportation officers would do when ACES descended, but he’d been told not to worry.
“BamBam Rescue, you’re a go.”
“Copy that,” Chance said.
They fell into the night like black knots on a weighted thread. Inch by inch, they lowered to the base of the line. Hagan held his post and stared down. The broken white lines blurred as the headlights groped ahead. No one knew that ACES would rain in from above.
“JPATS slowing,” Parker called. “Pulling back.”
“Copy that.”
Anticipation mounted. The interstate dipped into a valley and climbed. The Shenandoah Mountains weren’t too far ahead. The ambulance rounded a bend.
“Zulu, JPATS outta sight,” Boreas announced. “River’s dead ahead.”
“Green light,” Boss Man commanded. “Go.”
Hagan sighted the bridge in the ambulance’s headlights. The Black Hawk dropped. If he pointed his toes, he’d touch the roof.
“Midas,” Parker called. “At your command.”
“Romeo One,” Chance directed their next move.
They released the safety carabiners that attached them to the line. Hagan’s blood rushed. His muscles contracted. The bridge was almost under their feet.
“Mike, Mike, Two,” Chance ordered.
They dropped like rain on the roof as the ambulance rumbled over a joint expander. Road noise echoed over the bridge.
“Go, one,” Chance counted their moves the same as he counted down the seconds. “Two.”
Sawyer and Camden went right. Liam and Chance left. They stayed in the blind spots.
“Three.”
Hagan crouched center line, above the ambulance doors.
“Four.”
Liam and Sawyer dropped to the back of the ambulance as it roared over the highway.
“Five.”
They opened the back hatch.
“Six.”
Hagan rolled over the roof, dropped inside, and double-checked the metal partition that separated the prisoner from the ambulance cab. The driver and attendant couldn’t see the patient except through a video feed that Parker had already doctored and played on a loop.
Chance hoisted himself inside the ambulance on Seven. Camden dropped inside on eight.
“Nine.”
Hagan secured the door. The ambulance jostled over a pothole and another bridge joint expanded.
“Ten.”
Outside the ambulance, Sawyer and Liam were to