EDGE OF SHADOWS: The Shadow Ops Finale (Shadow Ops, Book # 3) (13 page)

Billy couldn’t do more than note the movement as it crossed his rearview mirror. He was too busy fighting to stay on solid ground as sparks flew, the guardrail and Audi colliding. He tried to use the impact to steer the car into the other direction, back onto the pavement, but a rear wheel got caught in one of the guardrail anchors, wrenching the entire car into a spin.

He twisted the wheel, desperately trying to steer out of the skid that was taking him toward the river, but his speed and momentum were too strong. The driver-side front tire hit the guardrail so fast it practically drove up the metal even as it buckled it, launching the small car into the air like a skateboarder flying off a ramp.

The embankment was high enough that the car made a full revolution in the air, Billy still twisting the wheel then holding it just to keep his bearings as the Audi flipped over before finally hitting the water, wheels down.

The impact blew all the air bags, blinding Billy as his head crashed against the back of his seat. The water smacked against the car, and he flew up, jaws cracking together. His seat belt yanked him back down, then there was a sickening lurch as the water sucked him under.

<><><>

“
Here
’s what we have.” Rose huddled beside KC on makeshift jump seats attached to the plane’s cargo webbing. She held her laptop open so it rested on her left knee and KC’s right. “Plant’s owned by a Canadian company, licensed for biohazard waste removal, pays taxes and bills on time, no complaints or reason for anyone to take notice. A little more than nine thousand square feet, laid out on three floors, entrances here, here, and here.”

KC stared down at the blueprints EZ had retrieved from county records, memorizing them. “How many people?”

“This time of night, I’m hoping no one but security staff. Not if they’re legit. But if it’s the Preacher’s group and they’re aiming to go into full production mode…”

“It’s a crapshoot. What’s the plan?”

Rose hesitated a moment. KC knew she was holding something back, but didn’t challenge her. Not yet, anyway.

“I’ll go in, grab any video I can, plant cameras and tap into their computers. You watch my back.”

KC jerked her chin up at that, decided to purposely misunderstand. “Watch your back as I go in with you.”

“No. You’ll be outside, making sure I have a clear exit, let me know if any unexpected visitors show up.”

Rose wouldn’t split them up like that unless… “You think it’s a trap? Why? Do you suspect EZ?”

“No. Not after the Preacher’s people came after him today, almost killed us both. But they know we have the hard drive, know we have experts working to decrypt it. What better way to set a trap than to dangle bait that’s real?”

“So you think there really is a bioweapon?”

“My money is on a derivative of fentanyl. Remember that hijacked shipment?”

“You thought the Razgravians were behind it, maybe selling it to the Preacher.”

“Still do.” Rose’s voice was grim, and she looked away. Razgravia was always a tough subject for her.

“Fentanyl is a narcotic, lethal only in high doses. Not exactly a reliable WMD.”

“Hence the lab. They’ll need to refine it to use as a weapon.” She explained about Dr. Rayburn’s stolen research. “Fentanyl is active ingested, injected, or inhaled. Liquid or gaseous, makes no difference. Combine it with a nerve agent like ricin, sarin, VX, or one of the blistering agents like HD—”

“That’s the new mustard gas? The one that burns the skin and lungs?” Chemical warfare wasn’t exactly KC’s area of expertise.

“Burns, blisters, and three times more toxic than cyanide. Point is, the fentanyl might be the vehicle for a weaponized agent much more deadly. One that could be delivered by aerosol or in a liquid form.”

“Anything else they could have in there?”

“Not sure until I get a look at their equipment. Thankfully, EZ wasn’t able to find any evidence for deliveries of any viral processing or human pathogen equipment, but he did find invoices for chemical protection apparatus. Negative filtration hoods, stuff like that. Nothing out of the ordinary for a company processing medical waste, but still—”

“It’s like building a puzzle without knowing what it’s a picture of.”

Rose nodded at that. “A puzzle where all the pieces are the same shape and color. That’s why we need solid intel.”

“But what’s the rush? Why not set up on the place for a few days, get a look at who’s coming and going?”

“Because we may already be too late.” Rose met KC’s gaze, her expression bleak. “Our intel suggests that Grigor left Razgravia and arrived at the lab today. If he was picking up the bioweapon, helping the Preacher’s people distribute it, then—”

“Then we’re talking millions at risk, and we have no idea when, where, or what they’ll be striking with.” KC’s stomach clenched. She wrapped her fist around one of the cargo net straps supporting the plank she sat on, blew out her breath and nodded. “If Grigor is working with the Preacher’s people, we can’t risk waiting.”

<><><>

Everything went fuzzy for a few seconds. Billy came to in the dark car. Pain ricocheting throughout his body. The air bag pushed against his chest.
Cold water sloshed against his lap.

Black water was rising around him, the glimmer of the dashboard warning lights reflected from it, giving him hope. Then they died. Leaving the car cocooned in dark silence.

He reached for the window. Battery dead. He’d missed his opportunity to lower it. He could smash it out, but he’d have to wait for the pressure of the water outside the car to equalize. Given the freezing temperatures and how quickly the water was rising inside the Audi, there wouldn’t be time for that.

His body trembled, slow-moving shakes that soon became earth-moving tremors as the icy water crept up his body. He’d been in worse spots, he told himself. And Chase was on the way. All he had to do was get the hell out of here.

He drew his knife, an Emerson CQC-15, slimmer and shorter than the CQC-8 he used to carry in the field. A quick flick, and he had the air bag punctured, deflating it completely. Another slash, and he was free of the seat belt.

He could breathe again, though his chest hurt where at least one rib was cracked. He took a quick moment to make sure both his feet were free—otherwise all he’d end up doing was drowning even faster once he cut into the convertible’s roof and the outside water began to flow in.

Ignoring the cold, he focused his attention on his exit strategy. The convertible’s top consisted of two layers of thick fabric, impervious to wind and rain, wrapped around metal supports. Good thing he had a fetish about keeping his knife blades sharp—one of the several traits that had earned him his Delta nickname of “Edge.”

But that had been years ago. He was forty-two, no longer a young man. Did he still have what it took?

The rising ice water sent shockwaves of tingling and burning through his legs and belly. If he didn’t have what it took to save himself, he should probably just cash it in right now. If he didn’t have what it took, he didn’t deserve a woman like Rose.

Rose. The thought of her, of what she’d endured, her zest for life despite everything…it was a challenge more compelling than any Delta mission.

He raised his gaze to the black swath of fabric overhead—the only thing between him and several feet of deadly water. The only thing between him and Rose.

Without another thought, he punched his knife blade into the fabric, using all his might to slice through it. Water gushed in, blinding him, stealing his breath with its icy torrents. Unable to see, unable to feel the blade in his numb fingers, he fought the fabric, straining against it.

The car was almost completely filled with water now, and still the hole in the convertible top wasn’t large enough for him to push through. Billy gasped, turned his head, seeking the final, diminishing air pocket, and sucked in one final lungful.

He drew his knees up onto the seat and pushed with all his might, knowing this was his last chance. In the black void surrounding him, all he could see, all he could hear, the only reality he knew was the memory of the first time he met Rose, her laughter a gift to weary warriors as they gathered around a campfire.

Rose…

He stretched his arms, reaching as if she might pull him from the water, but cold, black emptiness was all that greeted him.

Chapter 13

Billy pushed himself through the roof, yanking his jacket free as the metal struts grabbed the fabric, then kicked hard. His chest burned as he held his breath, searching for the surface in the gray-on-black murky water.

Suddenly, a man’s arms wrapped around him from behind, propelling him to the surface. Billy kicked, gasping for air as soon as his face broke free from the water. The rocky bank leading to the road was only a few yards to his right, but his limbs were so heavy with the cold, he wasn’t sure he could make it.

Thankfully, his rescuer had the strength to push them both onto the rocks. Billy landed facedown. He rolled over, torn jacket flapping open, and looked up at his rescuer who sat on the ground beside him holding a semiautomatic pistol on Billy.

“Good thing you’re a hard man to kill, Price,” the man said. Billy recognized his voice—the man wearing the lion’s head mask this morning.

Billy grunted an acknowledgment, made a show of hauling in a breath. His jacket hid his knife hand. He hoped his fingers had enough life left in them to do the job. He pushed himself upright, hand still out of the other man’s sight, glanced beyond him up the bank to where two SUVs were in sight, and three men armed with Tec-9s stood, their weapons trained on Billy.

“All this just for me?” he asked, trying to leverage himself to a standing position and slipping back onto the ground as if his legs were too weak to hold his weight.

The man nearest him reached down and hauled Billy to his feet, putting himself in the perfect position for Billy to pivot behind him and put his knife to his throat with one hand and take the pistol with the other. Now Billy had a human shield and another weapon.

The odds were three against one, but Billy was in no mood to give the bad guys a chance to even them.

“Drop your weapons or he dies,” he called as he pushed his hostage up the path to the road.

The three men above them glanced at each other and nodded. Then one of them raised his weapon and shot Billy’s hostage through the head.

<><><>

Chase spotted the
taillights of three SUVs blocking the road twenty yards ahead. “Stop here.”

“Here?” Jay asked. “Shouldn’t we get closer?”

“Turn the lights off and stop. Right here.”

Jay complied, stopping the Jeep in the middle of the road. “We’re blocking traffic. Shouldn’t we call the police?”

Chase ignored him, his door open, maneuvering his damn crutches out of the way. “Hurry. Get the rifle from the rear and grab the ammo.”

Jay hopped down and raced to the rear of the Jeep. “Which one?” he asked, rummaging through the stack of gun cases. “The one KC was using on the range last weekend?”

“Yeah, the AR-15, that will do.” KC had it outfitted with thermal imaging instead of the night scope that was on Chase’s Remington. Given the glare of the headlights from the SUV, the thermal imaging would give him better accuracy. And the distance was still within the smaller rifle’s range.

Chase planted one crutch on the ground and used it to stabilize his injured leg as he stood, balancing with his good leg on the running board. That left his bad leg dangling, the weight of the cast pulling against the delicate surgical repairs and pain like lightning lanced up his leg.

Jay realized his plan and scrambled up onto the roof of the Jeep to position the rifle for Chase. “Is that good?”

Chase didn’t answer, all his energy concentrated on blocking the pain and finding his target. Make that, targets. Three above the water on the road. Two, considerably colder heat signatures, emerging from the water. The coldest one, his legs almost black they were so sapped of heat, fell to the ground. Billy.

As he forced himself to wait for an opening that wouldn’t risk Billy, he saw Billy make his move. Good one, boss. Then came a shot from above, the muzzle flare streaking through Chase’s sights.

He shifted his aim, figuring Billy’s guy was neutralized, and fired at the shooter, three quick shots, one to the head and two to the chest. The other two fired down at Billy, who flattened himself against the rocks where they couldn’t get a good angle down on him and returned fire as well.

Chase ignored the crack of gunfire that tore through the night, concentrating on taking down the other shooters. He hit his mark, and one dropped, joining the first man he’d killed. He pivoted, aiming at the final man when that one dropped as well, presumably from a bullet fired by Billy.

Hopefully. Or maybe he realized his only cover was on the ground, and he was playing possum until Billy emerged from hiding.

Chase saw no more movement through the scope. He dropped back down into the passenger seat, his leg banging against the door as he hauled his foot back inside, followed by the crutch. By the time he had the door closed, Jay was back in the front seat.