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Luckily, he had the utmost faith in the integrity of Turkish grandmas.
Cruising his CV-22 out over the Mediterranean Sea, Jimmy prayed this grandma was as honest as he
believed, prayed the Turkish authorities take on the taping was accurate. Once they d gotten the word
of Chloe s recording, they d been airborne in minutes. His crew couldn t waste time listening to the
lengthy playback again, given Marta s head start. Jimmy plotted coordinates in flight for possible sea
routes from the fishing village to Cyprus.
He had to shut down thoughts and rely on routine, training, instincts. Chloe had given them a window of
opportunity. He wouldn t let her down.
Vapor maxed the throttles and peered through the windscreen, searching for the fleeing boat. I m not
seeing shit out there, Hotwire. You re going to have to find them.
I m looking. He d been searching and searching, and everything he found turned out to be a dead end.
The radar sweep came around, giving Jimmy a view of the night water ahead.
Bright blips appeared in several spots on the display. Maybe this time. I have six, no, seven contacts.
One is heading back to shore, and so is that one. Two are too far north to be our contact. That gives us
three to look at. Come right fifteen degrees, about four miles out.
Vapor angled the stick, guiding the aircraft. Jimmy slewed the infrared camera toward the contact and
locked on the boat. He studied the screen and shifted his display back to radar.
Frustration cranked up the heat until sweat dripped in his eyes. Damn. It s a barge. Come thirty degrees
left, and I ll check another one.
He waited until they were lined up on the next target and switched back to the camera. He locked up and
zoomed in for a closer look, grateful as hell for the technology that allowed him to see as much on a
pitch-black night as anyone else saw in broad daylight.
A speedboat. Racing ahead in the dark with just the right heading to hit Cyprus. And please God, let it
be carrying Chloe alive and well. He couldn t stop the insidious fear that they d already dumped her
body into vast depths of the Mediterranean, that he might never know what happened to her.
This could be it. Dead ahead two miles. He stared into the screen and counted heads, zeroing in,
tamping down hope. I see three people in the boat. Do you want to come up from behind or offset to
the side?
Vapor looked into the darkness, appearing to weigh the options. Let s blow right over them and see if
we can give them a jolt while you get a closer look to confirm it s Chloe.
It had to be. He refused to accept any other ending. He refused to lose any more people he loved, and
hell yes, he loved Chloe Nelson. He d just been too stuck in the past to see what was right in front of
him.
He kept his eyes locked on the screen, ready for that up-close view. The speedboat appeared ahead,
chopping through the waves. The CV-22 swept over the boat about fifty feet up. He zeroed the camera
in tight. Chloe s profile filled the screen, her hair trailing behind her. Just a flash of a look, but enough for
him to be sure. It s her. It s Chloe.
His gut turned to stone at the sight of her with a gun to her head.
Vapor broke into a hard left turn and climb. Bring up the distress frequency and tell them to stop.
It was a long shot that Marta Surac would give up easily, but one worth taking. Anticipation hammered
low and distracting in his gut. Jimmy dialed up the frequency and hailed the fleeing boat. Attention
speedboat six miles west of Antolik on a heading of two-seven-four. Heave to immediately. I say again,
heave to immediately.
He watched, waiting for any reaction, but the boat powered ahead. Not unexpected, but still. Fuck.
Vapor s cheeks puffed with a sigh. All right then. Let s put a shot across the bow.
Jimmy homed in his focus tighter than ever, because if he thought about bullets flying around Chloe, he
wouldn t be of any use to her. Roger that. Arming the nose gun. A second later, he added, Nose is
Page 116
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Luckily, he had the utmost faith in the integrity of Turkish grandmas.
Cruising his CV-22 out over the Mediterranean Sea, Jimmy prayed this grandma was as honest as he
believed, prayed the Turkish authorities take on the taping was accurate. Once they d gotten the word
of Chloe s recording, they d been airborne in minutes. His crew couldn t waste time listening to the
lengthy playback again, given Marta s head start. Jimmy plotted coordinates in flight for possible sea
routes from the fishing village to Cyprus.
He had to shut down thoughts and rely on routine, training, instincts. Chloe had given them a window of
opportunity. He wouldn t let her down.
Vapor maxed the throttles and peered through the windscreen, searching for the fleeing boat. I m not
seeing shit out there, Hotwire. You re going to have to find them.
I m looking. He d been searching and searching, and everything he found turned out to be a dead end.
The radar sweep came around, giving Jimmy a view of the night water ahead.
Bright blips appeared in several spots on the display. Maybe this time. I have six, no, seven contacts.
One is heading back to shore, and so is that one. Two are too far north to be our contact. That gives us
three to look at. Come right fifteen degrees, about four miles out.
Vapor angled the stick, guiding the aircraft. Jimmy slewed the infrared camera toward the contact and
locked on the boat. He studied the screen and shifted his display back to radar.
Frustration cranked up the heat until sweat dripped in his eyes. Damn. It s a barge. Come thirty degrees
left, and I ll check another one.
He waited until they were lined up on the next target and switched back to the camera. He locked up and
zoomed in for a closer look, grateful as hell for the technology that allowed him to see as much on a
pitch-black night as anyone else saw in broad daylight.
A speedboat. Racing ahead in the dark with just the right heading to hit Cyprus. And please God, let it
be carrying Chloe alive and well. He couldn t stop the insidious fear that they d already dumped her
body into vast depths of the Mediterranean, that he might never know what happened to her.
This could be it. Dead ahead two miles. He stared into the screen and counted heads, zeroing in,
tamping down hope. I see three people in the boat. Do you want to come up from behind or offset to
the side?
Vapor looked into the darkness, appearing to weigh the options. Let s blow right over them and see if
we can give them a jolt while you get a closer look to confirm it s Chloe.
It had to be. He refused to accept any other ending. He refused to lose any more people he loved, and
hell yes, he loved Chloe Nelson. He d just been too stuck in the past to see what was right in front of
him.
He kept his eyes locked on the screen, ready for that up-close view. The speedboat appeared ahead,
chopping through the waves. The CV-22 swept over the boat about fifty feet up. He zeroed the camera
in tight. Chloe s profile filled the screen, her hair trailing behind her. Just a flash of a look, but enough for
him to be sure. It s her. It s Chloe.
His gut turned to stone at the sight of her with a gun to her head.
Vapor broke into a hard left turn and climb. Bring up the distress frequency and tell them to stop.
It was a long shot that Marta Surac would give up easily, but one worth taking. Anticipation hammered
low and distracting in his gut. Jimmy dialed up the frequency and hailed the fleeing boat. Attention
speedboat six miles west of Antolik on a heading of two-seven-four. Heave to immediately. I say again,
heave to immediately.
He watched, waiting for any reaction, but the boat powered ahead. Not unexpected, but still. Fuck.
Vapor s cheeks puffed with a sigh. All right then. Let s put a shot across the bow.
Jimmy homed in his focus tighter than ever, because if he thought about bullets flying around Chloe, he
wouldn t be of any use to her. Roger that. Arming the nose gun. A second later, he added, Nose is
Page 116
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hot. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]