Sleeping Secrets: Heather Chase FBI Series Book 7, page 21
“He’s heading West,” Bob said.
“Now where’s he going?” McEnry said.
One short look at the map was all it took for Chase to figure it out.
“I’ve got it. He’s headed to a private airstrip. South Albany Airport.”
McEnry checked the map and clenched his teeth. “That’s gotta be it. I’m gonna route local cops and have the area closed off. Those bastards will be trapped like rats.”
“But sir, can’t they just fly out of there?” The other tactical agent asked.
“No,” McEnry said, his voice like ice. “That is one thing we are not gonna let happen.”
Chapter 34
“This is it,” McEnry said. “This is the last hoorah.” He was peering down his binoculars as they came up on Mickey five miles out from the private airstrip. On the horizon, a small private plane glistened on the macadam by the hangar. FBI Tactical were bringing up the rear slowly, making sure not to stand out. Chase and McEnry were in the rearmost part of the truck while the other tacticals talked amongst themselves.
“Taylor’s got to be in that plane,” Chase said to McEnry. “I can feel it.”
“Funny, ain’t it?” McEnry said.
“What do you mean?”
“That we always get there in the end.” He turned to her, his face taking on a new kind of solemnity. And it was like seeing him for the first time—that brush of red hair, his newscaster mustache, the determination in his bright blue eyes. This was Tom McEnry the person, not the agent. “You know Chase, I realized something. Back at Respite, I mean. That my block didn’t come from me being afraid of death.”
“Then what was it?”
“It was that I was always afraid my luck would run out and I’d end up like one of those poor bastards who ran into Bucky, who wound up on the wrong end of his own gun. Think about it, Chase, how many raids have we been on now, and how many times have we just barely caught the perp? Where it seemed like things could have easily gone the other way, that we could have totally screwed the mission?”
“Yes, that’s true, but—”
“I know,” McEnry said. “That’s what I figured out up there.”
“Up there,” Chase repeated.
“Yeah. Up there on the roof, freezing my bare ass off. It hit me, you know. That we got where we got not because of luck. I realized there was more to it than that. That's the reason we always got our man in the end—it was you.”
“McEnry, I—”
“No, look. I know what you’re gonna say. That I played my part in keeping us all alive. And I know that’s true too. But—I guess what I’m trying to say, Chase, is that I’d much rather believe in agents like you than just blind luck. At least that way, I don’t have to be afraid of it running out. As long as you’re behind us.”
Chase shifted in her seat. “Uh—thanks. I think. Hell, if it stops you moping around like a zombie in some clinic, then sure, I’ll take on that role.”
“You know Chase,” McEnry said grinning, “I think everyone’s got you wrong. They all think you’re such an ice queen. But I know deep down inside you’re just a big sweetheart.”
The truck rumbled to a stop. They’d reached the West end of the airfield now, and it was time to go on foot. What they needed was to catch the trade-off in action—to watch Mickey give Taylor the counterfeit data in person. If they had that, then Taylor was toast.
Just in the nick of time. As the team discretely crawled up the last grassy bank leading to the flat plain of the runway, Chase began to understand what McEnry was talking about. They had gone through a lot of near misses. But that didn’t shake her confidence, not at all. That was probably the only way to catch the most hardened criminals—they made few mistakes, if any, and netting them was always a matter of waiting for that one slim chance they gave you somewhere down the line. Where they showed the soft belly of their weakness. Well, Taylor had shown—his obsession with winning. And it was time to stick a fork in it.
McEnry had gotten on the radio to HQ and made sure to have the plane grounded—if it tried to take off it wouldn’t be given clearance. It wasn’t a huge hurdle, and it probably wouldn’t stop Taylor from getting away. But it could delay them just long enough if he smelled trouble.
The tactical team was in position now, right at the end of the hangar. Mickey had pulled over and was now walking the macadam to the plane, whose white bare side gleamed like a dazzling jewel in the afternoon sun, the broad deep blue sky stretching wide above them. The plain had been swept of all trees and the wind was coming down strong and cool, lending the already tense situation a surrealness that almost felt like being inside a dream.
But it was time to wake up.
“He’s getting in the plane,” McEnry said over the comms. “We hit ‘em now. Go go go!”
Urgency zapped through Chase’s body like lightning. Holding the familiar P228 out and ready, she ran in formation with the tactical team toward the plane. McEnry charged at the head of the team, his interim out of physical action not putting a dent in his pace at all. Within seconds they had reached the plane. McEnry was bolting up the stairs to the plane door with Chase right behind when gunfire erupted.
From behind them.
“Get down!” The tacticals at the rear cried out, hitting the floor and returning fire at the terminal. Chase ducked down and hit the ramp, aiming her P228 at where the sound had come from. Muzzle flash trained her eye and her gun automatically landed on the target—she squeezed the trigger three times—it felt like maybe she’d hit someone—but the rapid fire of assault rifles continued. There must have been half a dozen men out there.
And in the hot prolonged moment, Chase could see they were wearing suits. Italian suits.
“The fucking mob?” McEnry cried out, kneeling and letting off a volley of fire from his MP5. Meanwhile, Chase had rolled out sideways through the gap in the railing and dropped down off the ramp onto the macadam. The hot tar-smelling ground baked her as she desperately fired off shot after shot until her mag was empty. She rolled over, reloaded—trying to count how many assailants were left. And that’s when it happened. The plane started crawling forward, knocking the ramp over as it left. Half the tactical team still on the ramp cursed and jumped off as the thing came crashing down, and now they found themselves taking cover behind it, sitting ducks out there on the runway as the perp slowly got away in the plane.
“Dammit!” Chase cried out. “We have to get that damn plane!”
“Then what are we waiting for?” McEnry said, grinning at her, resolve burning like a blue flame behind his eyes.
She nodded to him. They went off, McEnry providing cover with his MP5 and Chase sprinting to the back wheel of the plane. It was still only going some five miles an hour and she soon caught up—bullets sprayed off the ground but didn’t come close now. They didn’t want to hit the plane. Chase circled around the back and up to the side again. The door was about eight feet off the ground. It wasn’t impossible to get up there. She ran as far as the front wheel bracket and clung to it, then shimmied up the underside like a jungle gym. Tangling her legs around the metal bracket, she then came up onto the top of it, then reached out for the door handle—it didn’t give.
“Can you get in?” McEnry called, who had climbed up behind her.
“It’s locked!” She called back.
Now the plane had picked up speed to about ten miles an hour, and while they had come out of range of the gunmen who were still in fierce combat with the tacticals behind them, they now faced the new danger of clinging to a plane about to leave the ground.
No other option. Chase aimed the P228 and shot the handle—once, twice, three times. Sparks flew and the handle came off at the joint. Chase reached forward and pulled at the door again—it cracked open. She gave one last nod to McEnry, swung the door open, then climbed inside, gun raised.
And found a Walther PPK pressed into her head, held by Mickey behind her. From the lavish plush leather seat across the aisle, Taylor looked her over with disdain.
“Diane, Diane,” he said disappointedly. “So, you were a cop after all.”
“Actually, I’m FBI. And you’re busted, Nicholas Taylor, or Jonathan Minder, or whatever the hell you want to call yourself today, Mr. X.”
“Mr. X? Ahaha. Is that what they’re calling me down at the bureau?” He sipped on a flute of sparkling wine casually, ignoring the large barrel of Chase’s semi-auto currently pointed at his head.
“I suggest you drop that heater, miss,” Mickey said, his voice weirdly amiable, yet full of threat. “Don’t force me to take any drastic action here.”
“Tell you what,” Chase said, “you drop that little peashooter of yours and you got yourself a deal.”
“Nah—see, that ain’t how things are going down here. I’m not sure you understand what position you’re in.”
“Oh, she understands,” Taylor said to Mickey while side-eyeing Chase. “She understands perfectly. But this one isn’t the type to roll over easily, even when the tables are turned so extremely against her. Isn’t that right, Diane?”
“That’s right. But my name’s not Diane. It’s Chase. Special Agent.”
“Fitting,” Taylor said, a whimsical smile crossing his placid face.
“You can cut the smug act, Taylor,” Chase said. “You’re not getting out of here. Your plane has been grounded.”
“A trivial matter,” Taylor said. “Just words really. And words are only as powerful as the people who obey them. Words can’t stop a plane.”
Just then, three gunshots came right through the metal of the door, landing right in Mickey’s skull. The door burst open and McEnry walked in. “No,” he said. “But bullets can.”
For the first time since Chase had met him, Taylor’s grin finally disappeared.
“How the hell did you make that shot?” He said weakly.
McEnry shrugged. “Just blind luck I guess.”
“What did you think Taylor?” Chase said, closing in and slipping on the cuffs. “That I’d come alone? You miscalculated.”
“Well,” Taylor said, his voice cracking and low. “You did always strike me as a lone wolf. A miscalculation...”
McEnry entered the cockpit and ordered the pilot to pull the plane over, then came back into the passenger area.
“One more question before we take you in,” McEnry said. “Where did you get the technology at Respite?”
“Hmm?” Taylor said, still dazed and not seemingly believing his situation. “Technology?”
“The hypnosis gear,” McEnry growled, grabbing Taylor up by the scruff of the neck. “We know it comes from the C so cut the act.”
Taylor’s face was the picture of innocence—if he was acting, it was better than anything that had ever come out of Hollywood. “We didn’t hypnotize anyone.”
“Then how’d I sleep so damn well? Why do I remember getting hypnotized?”
“Oh,” Taylor said, unable to help himself and chuckling, then the chuckle turning to full-blown laughter. “I’m glad we were able to help you with your—problem. Mr. McElroy.”
“It’s McEnry. Now how the hell did you put me to sleep?”
Taylor shrugged, the chain of his cuffs tinkling as he did so. “How do you think? We slipped you RX-7.”
“RX...7?”
“Of course. What did you think that pink pill was?”
McEnry shook his head and raised his Glock 19 to Taylor’s face. “Stop bullshitting me and tell me! Look—I know what I heard. You think this is the first time I encountered that cybernetic crap? It was the C—”
“Maybe not,” Chase said.
“What?”
“McEnry—when you heard that humming. Did it feel like a memory?”
“A memory? What are you—”
“I mean did it feel nostalgic to you, when you heard that hum.”
“I guess. Yeah. Sure. It felt familiar. So what?”
“I don’t think they have the C’s technology,” Chase said. “Nostalgic recall is one of the drug’s side effects.”
McEnry finally lowered his piece, then stared off blankly. The FBI tacticals had started entering the plane now en masse. It was getting crowded in there.
“One thing I don’t understand,” Chase said to Taylor. “If you weren’t using the C’s technology, how did you get so many well-established people to turn for you? How did you get the mafia on your side?”
Taylor smiled again, as broadly and as smug as ever. “Oh, that’s simple. In fact, it’s the oldest trick in the book, Diane, and it works on almost everyone. You just have to figure out what people need the most, then promise to give it to them.”
“Well I know what you need, Taylor,” Chase said. “It’s a small cell with no windows. And I promise you, you’re going to get it.”
From the author:
If you enjoyed reading this book, I’d like to invite you to the other exciting books in this series:
Heather Chase FBI Series:
Dirt Dealers – Prequel – Free Download
Silent Witness – Book 1
Frozen Justice – Book 2
Chasing Dragons – Book 3
Hunting C-60 – Book 4
See the Fire – Book 5
Invisible Criminals – Book 6
Sleeping Secrets – Book 7
The Gemini Project – Book 8 – Coming Soon
Thank you,
A.W. Kaylen
Dirt Dealers – Free Download
A sex scandal. A string of murders. A top secret no one is allowed to know.
A seemingly ordinary murder case is assigned to young FBI Special Agent Heather Chase.
Little does she know she’s about to walk into a dangerous web of deceptions and lies…
Why is the FBI involved? The NYPD has plenty of talent.
Why is her boss there? He never graced his presence at such lowly murder cases before…
Something is off from the get-go… Chase feels it in her gut but can’t put her finger on.
When highly trained assassins make repeated attempts on her life, she realizes that she must’ve stumbled upon something big.
The hunter becomes the hunted, but Chase doubles down, even when she has no one to trust.
The puzzle pieces finally fall into place and the murder case wraps up…
Except…
Chase can’t help shaking the feeling that everything is a complete setup right from the beginning.
Can she prove it?
Start Reading Dirt Dealers Now for FREE!
Silent Witness – Book 1
When the body of a real estate baron’s young wife was found at their development, everyone thought it was textbook suicide.
Special Agent Heather Chase had her doubts.
She caught traces of the elusive perpetrator, but they were always one step ahead…
She must get to the only witness before they kill again.
Will she succeed?
Frozen Justice – Book 2
A victimless murder. A super-secret plan. A ghost partner she’s supposed to trust.
When Special Agent Heather Chase investigates a strange murder case and discovers a secret plan that puts the US on the brink of war, she has mere hours to intervene…
Will she be able to stop the catastrophe in time?
Chasing Dragons – Book 3
FBI Special Agent Heather Chase investigates a bizarre bank robbery where millions vanished into thin air.
She discovers a startling secret… a secret that could send the whole economy into a tailspin.
Will Chase be able to stop the villain and save the US from financial ruin?
Hunting C-60 – Book 4
A mysterious bombing assassination. A city holding its breath. And a colossal blackmail scheme that must be stopped… at any cost.
New York City is held hostage, yet the entire law enforcement apparatus is powerless…
Will Chase be able to take down the extremist and save the oblivious masses?
See the Fire – Book 5
A shadowy terrorist group, a secretive cult, and an FBI agent hell-bent on blowing this case wide open.
When a devastating fire rips through a Federal Records & Accounts building, talented FBI Special Agent Heather Chase follows a web of clues that plunges her deep into the criminal underground.
The clock is ticking, and the perpetrators have already set their sights on their next target.
Will Chase be able to stop the bloodshed?
Invisible Criminals – Book 6
A silent turf war.
A trained assassin.
Mysterious deaths all happening at the same hour…
Hell-bent on catching the killer, Special Agent Heather Chase is caught up in a vicious turf war rapidly spreading across New York City.
The mob is out there, and the criminal network is invisible. Trusting the wrong person will get her killed…
Can she stop it before it reaches the boiling point?
Sleeping Secrets – Book 7
How do you outwit a conman at his own game?
Special Agent Heather Chase has her sights set on a shadowy career conman whose cunning scheme is to undermine the miracle drug and pull off a multi-million-dollar financial heist.
But she’s powerless to stop it without solid proof...
With the drug’s human trials rapidly approaching, Chase’s time is running out…
