“I don’t even know her, but trust me, she’s watching us.” Abbey knew it for a fact.
“Leaving Zackie the clue of the cookies, means she either knew or guessed that you were here.” Derek continued the thought.
“Then,” Abby nodded to herself, “she decided that warning you off wasn’t enough—which it obviously wasn’t, we’re here—and so needed to break the scent trail.”
“Which means we’ve lost her.” Dilya scooped up the dog and hugged her hard. Zackie must be used to this and snuggled her head tight against Dilya’s shoulder.
“Not…quite.” Misty spoke so rarely that it was startling every time.
Abby glanced at her to see if she’d spotted Miss Watson’s hiding place, but she was looking at the other end of the field. Abby turned and looked at the Base Hangar.
“It means,” Abby knew, “that the trouble is only just beginning.”
They’d left the DAGOR behind when they’d started following Zackie’s nose.
Abby didn’t break into a run, she broke into a sprint. Not for the DAGOR, but straight for the far end of the hangar.
59
Think, woman. Think!
She’d had too many drugs, too little sleep and food, and far too many fears for clear cognition.
Dilya and Zackie, accompanied by a trio of soldiers, two women and one man by their sizes and gaits. All three highly trained, but none of them were Emily Beale or Michael Gibson. Not even Mark Henderson. She’d know their strides. Where were they when she needed them?
At least they were headed toward the real problem. Except they were taking Dilya with them—straight toward the MI6 teams that had arrived by helo. The Chinooks had forced them to land well clear of the hangar, but once on the ground, those agents aboard would be numerous and well versed at hiding their movements.
And once they recognized Dilya for what she was—they’d never forget.
She knew what to do.
Miss Watson shoved the Land Rover into gear.
This was going to get very ugly—very fast.
She jammed the accelerator down to the floorboards.
60
Zackie glanced aside, drawing Dilya’s attention to a bright chirp of car tires and a racing engine. She stopped and spun to look. Abby and Derek followed so closely that they nearly flattened her on the spot. Only their hands clamping hard on her shoulders kept them from all tumbling to the ground. Misty and Group Captain Cutcher ran just far enough behind to stop without adding to the pile-up.
A beige Land Rover jerked out of a line of the vehicles parked beside the building Miss Watson had been imprisoned in.
“Of course,” Abby cursed. “No one would expect her to hide in plain sight of the building she’d just escaped.”
“That must be her!” Dilya waved.
But the car wasn’t racing toward them. It was racing down the wide taxiway in front of the massive hangar. It didn’t appear to be aiming for the crowd of people there that included the colonels. Instead she was aimed directly at the two MI6 helicopters only now taxiing toward the hangar.
“She’s going to ram them.” Once Derek said it, Dilya knew he was right. Whoever was aboard those helos was a greater threat than?—
Miss Watson would die as assuredly as those still in the helos.
“No!” The scream ripped at her throat. Just as it had when the renegades had put their guns to her parents’ foreheads and pulled the triggers.
61
Aloft over the base in Abby’s helicopter, Emily’s role as Overwatch—given her by Abby with excellent decisiveness under pressure—meant that she and the crew chiefs were wholly focused on the safety of the ground team. As pilot, Ethan would keep the bird aloft. Her role constituted maintaining situational awareness.
