This nightmare scenario kept spinning out—because it didn’t end there.
After he let them catch him, he’d try to bluff and tell them she’d died. They wouldn’t believe him, so they’d torture him to force him to reveal her hiding place. Which he’d eventually do, except he’d lie and intentionally mislead them, again, far away from her.
And when they didn’t find her, they would kill him.
Tasha picked up the rifle, scooped up the extra ammo, and popped open the hatch.
* * *
The admiral was bullshit.
Rio could hear it in the man’s clipped tone as he relayed the bad news over the phone.
“The young woman—Kayla Conway, she’s still back with the queen, at their safe location. But she says his name’s Jeff Willems. He got into an argument with the prince, who wanted to go back to the ski lodge and look for Tasha, but Willems refused. He did, however, agree to pose as Tedric and take the jet—I’m assuming he’s got a pilot’s license?” Francisco’s voice got slightly muffled as he no doubt turned to ask that question of whatever bearer of bad news was likely standing at attention in his office.
Back to louder: “Not that it matters, but yeah, he does.”
Back to muffled. “Keep him in police custody. One rich idiot floating loose is all I can handle.”
Back to louder: “Willems is gonna go into local lockup—he’s no longer our responsibility, thank God. Kayla—our twenty-something definitely inebriated source of intel—reported that the prince’s plan was to use his pal to make everyone believe thatTedricwas flying back. Instead, the prince started driving. He’s alone, he’s armed—”
Oh, good. Rio glanced at Dave who sat shotgun in the SUV.
“—and he’s using Willems’s phone,” the admiral continued. “We’ve just tracked his GPS, so we know where he is right now—assuming Kayla’s not lying to us—but cell service has been spotty, and we expect to lose his signal again, soon. Details are being sent to you because—”
“Aw, hell, no,” Rio heard himself interrupt the admiral, so he quickly slapped on a “Sir,” even as he gripped the steering wheel more tightly.
“Yup,” Francisco grimly said. “You’re it, Rossetti. You and Patterson. You’re closest. And I need both of you on this, so don’t mess around. Find him, get him to Burlington—”
“But, sir, if this is just another diversion,” Rio started. This was going to take a solid twelve hours—if they were lucky. And it would take longer if they weren’t.
“I’ve seen a video interview with the girl,” the admiral said. “She’s a friend of Tasha’s, too—Tash likes her. And trusts her. She’s drunk, but it looks like liquid courage, so she could bring herself to ask for help. I think Tedric’s smart, but he’s not that smart. He’s got his buddy’s phone. Find the phone, we’ll find the prince. And if you haul ass, you can still intercept him before he leaves his vehicle and becomes harder to track, on foot in the goddamn mountains.”
“Tracking coordinates received, sir,” Dave reported, pulling open the paper map to have at the ready for when their SAT signal failed—which it would do, probably soon after they started moving toward those same goddamn mountains. “Out to the main road, then north,” he told Rio.
Rio jammed the SUV into gear and floored it. “Hauling ass, sir.”
“Keep me updated, and as tempting as it might be, do not kill the idiot, and do not let him get himself killed,” the admiral ground out, before he hung up.
“And... we just lost GPS,” Dave told Rio as they sped northward into the night. “But it’ll be back.”
“I fucking hate this,” Rio said.
Dave nodded. “I know.”
Chapter Twenty
Thomas was moving fast.
With a four man patrol hot on his heels, he had to be thinking fast, too. He had to be four steps ahead.
Mere evasion would’ve been easy.
Easier.
Three of his pursuers were idiots, with close to zero training. Only one was a real operator—probably Army recon. He was the man Thomas had to work to avoid.
But he wasn’t just evading them in order to hide. He was actively leading them away from the entrance to the pod, so that they wouldn’t find the bulkhead door.
