Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
She zooms in on the third one and the farthest away. “This is a parcel of twelve acres registered to a holding company called PacNo Holdings, which BOB has already linked through four layers of corporate structure to Strategic Asset Protection Group. There’s a cabin on the property, single-access road, and the last utility activity was six weeks ago.”
“That’s it,” I say.
“Confidence level is high,” Josie says. “Not certain.”
“High enough,” I say, looking at Malik.
He looks at the map for exactly three seconds. “Go,” he says. “I’ll call Hara. Josie stays here running real-time support. Reid, Sully with you.”
We’re halfway to the door when Josie says my name. I turn and she’s looking at me from her station. The expression on her face has none of its usual professional composure. Just the raw honest face of someone who is afraid for her new friend and isn’t going to pretend otherwise. “Bring her back,” she says.
“On it,” I say, refusing to find failure on this mission.
And I go.
The truck eats the highway at too slow a pace for my liking, but roads are narrow, unmarked and winding, making max speed hardly above thirty miles per hour. Nighttime encroaches and the truck’s headlights cut through the dark. It’s a good thing Sully is driving as I’d be taking the curves too fast and would probably launch us over the edge. He’s maneuvering the truck with contained confidence and knows how to save his energy for when it matters. Reid’s in the back seat reviewing a tactical map pulled up on his phone and I’m trying not to let my imagination run wild as to what might be happening in that cabin.
I think about the route. The access road. The approach vector Josie is already mapping for us from Jameson. The structure of the property, the sight lines, the most likely interior layout of a rural cabin being used as an operational safe house. We have more support than most military organizations and yet there is still so much unknown about what we’re walking into. We’re a three-person extraction team against an unknown number of SAPG operatives in a contained space.
My phone buzzes and I connect Josie through the speaker. “Satellite imagery of the property just came through,” she says, and I can hear keyboards in the background. “It’s a single structure approximately nine hundred square feet, one story. Front door faces the access road. Back door opens onto a covered porch. Two windows on the north wall, one on the south, two on the east facing the tree line.” A pause. “Only one vehicle currently on the property, looks to be a tactical SUV.”
“How many inside?” Reid asks.
“Can’t tell from imagery,” she says. “But the vehicle could easily hold eight.”
“Copy,” I say. We’re going to have to wait to get close and use heat imagery to narrow down the number of hostiles we’re dealing with.
“Cole,” she says. “Hara called back. FBI tactical is mobilizing, but they’re looking at ninety minutes minimum.”
“We’ll be there in thirty-five,” I say.
A beat of silence. “I know,” she says. “I’ve got eyes on your GPS. I’ll be with you the whole way in.”
I disconnect the call and watch the highway unspool ahead of us into the darkening Cascades.
Thirty-five minutes.
She just has to hold on for thirty-five minutes.
CHAPTER 22
Tessa
The chair is metal and the room smells musty. I’m in a broken-down cabin that we arrived at after traveling down a remote, single-access road. Without my watch, time is difficult to gauge, but I’m guessing it took us at least three hours if not more to get this deep into the Cascades. They chose this place for its isolation.
I also know that there’s no way they would have let me see where they were taking me if they hadn’t intended on me never leaving. The knowledge sits inside me hollowly, but I refuse to let sorrow creep in. Sadness for what I might be losing… life, experiences… Cole.
Instead, I keep reminding myself to keep my wits, because if anyone can find me, it’s Cole, and I know he won’t ever stop trying.
I was surprised Jason Pelham greeted us when we arrived. I wouldn’t have thought the head of SAPG would dirty his hands with this, but apparently I was wrong. Maybe it’s just because he has too much riding on this to entrust it to his underlings. Regardless, Schwartz left as soon as he handed me over, because men like him don’t stay for what comes after. They write the checks, look the other way, and let people like Pelham handle the rest.
My wrists are zip-tied in my lap, legs and feet left free. Right now there’s just the chair in the room and the single overhead light with nothing but a bulb and a chain pull. I can only see what’s in front of me and to the sides—a door, rough unfinished timbered walls, a window with blackout curtains.