Wired Rogue Page 4

  Somehow his comment reminded Sophie of Waxman’s insistence that she “call me Ben.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You’re kind of my boss now.” Sophie frowned.

  “You’re a short-term contract employee and you answer to a distant department head. What, we can’t be friends now?” Remarkian’s chuckle sounded forced. “I would rather have you for a friend than an employee, much as I value your skills.”

  Sophie looked at the floor. Friend she could do. She wasn’t ready to be more with Remarkian. “Okay, Connor.”

  “Let’s run this weekend if you’re free. Dead Man’s Catwalk?” Remarkian named an off-limits but famous hike that ended at a spectacular tongue of concrete protruding from a giant cliff over the ocean. “Anubis needs a workout.”

  “Ginger does too. Excellent.” Sophie gave a mock salute. “Thanks. I’m ready to get to work.”

  Looking around her new office, Sophie battled a sense of unreality.

  Just days ago she’d been in her haven, her cave: the FBI’s IT lab, with its cool dark bays and humming, quiet energy.

  Now the light of a bright Honolulu day blazed through tinted windows, illuminating a large desk, sleek computer console, phone, and round-tabled seating area with a large smartboard mounted on the wall. She was going to be out in the field, not behind a computer, most of the time.

  “Nice, right?” Dunn thumbed to his office next door, identical to hers right down to a green-shaded lamp on the desk. “Come check out this topographical map of Waipio that I’ve got set up. The company helicopter’s reserved to take us to the Big Island in two hours, so we need to get to it.”

  “I see why Remarkian calls you Get ’Er Dunn.” Sophie followed the big man into the next office.

  Dunn grinned at her. “I’ll answer to that. Now gimme all the intel you picked up over there, and let’s get over to the Big Island.”

  Chapter Six

  The helicopter they took into Waipio was a Bell Jet painted in camouflage colors, every bit as fast as the FBI one she’d taken there just a few days earlier. They’d timed the flight for late evening—a popular time for helicopter tours, frequent in the big valley with its spectacular waterfall and soaring, ridged green walls.

  Sophie leaned her forehead against the curved Plexiglas window, watching the ripple of the ocean pass beneath them, cobalt blue and crinkled as a crumpled piece of aluminum foil. “No whales this time of year,” she commented to Dunn, sitting up front with the pilot.

  He nodded. “Lived in Alaska for a few years. Amazing how far the whales are willing to come to play in the warm water here. No food for six months either. That’s commitment.”

  They flew past the variegated hump of Maui, crowned in clouds. The Big Island loomed ahead, blue-purple in a haze of “vog,” volcanic emissions from Kilauea’s ongoing eruption. The rugged golden slopes of the dry side of the island soon gave way to the lush green of the eastern side, where rain clouds were captured by the prevailing height of the dormant Mauna Loa volcano.

  Waipio Valley appeared as a vast rift in the island, a primordial layering of shades of green. Even having been there recently, Sophie half expected dinosaurs to appear among the spreading albizia trees along the velvet pastureland and olive satin of the river.

  “Fly along the valley walls and set us down at least a mile from the compound,” Dunn directed. “Don’t want to spook the target.”

  “Roger that.” The pilot kept them at a typical tourist viewing height, then swooped swiftly down to land in an open area on the top of one of the ridges. Sophie hopped out of the chopper, lug-soled boots sinking into soft mud.

  She and Dunn unloaded their surveillance and extraction equipment and waved off the chopper, with orders to come in and pick them up out of sniper range from the compound’s tower when they called for it.

  Sophie slung on the lightweight backpack packed with everything they had anticipated needing to extract two potentially unwilling children from a hostile, armed compound.

  Her heart thudded in the cage of her ribs. Was she really up for this kind of work? No way to know but to get in and find out.

  Jake handed her a shallow tin of camouflage paint. “Do your face and hands. We can’t be identified. This isn’t the FBI, where you have the weight of law on your side. It’s get in, nail the objective, get out. They’re justified in shooting at us if they catch us.”

  Not like the FBI at all. She’d always been protected by her position as a federal cop before. Now, the law was on the other side. The shift felt surreal, especially since what they were doing was the ethical thing.

  Sophie rubbed the thick, gooey paint onto her face. “I don’t need as much as you, white boy.” Teasing him for the first time felt like taking a risk.

  “Yeah, I’ll give you that.” Dunn’s grin was a flash in the gloom of approaching dark. He wasn’t offended. “Let’s get the night vision goggles out for when we need them.”

  They’d chosen evening for the flight and nightfall for the raid. Sophie checked her weapons, loaded with nonlethal ammo, and hung the NV goggles on their adjustable strap around her neck.

  “Ready?” Dunn cinched down his loaded pack.

  “Ready.”

  Dunn took off at a rapid walk, finding a goat trail down the side of the ridge. Sophie was glad of all the hours she spent at her favorite hobby, hike-running rough trails, as they navigated the slender track in near dark at a fast clip. She dogged Dunn’s heels, pushing him faster.

  Once they were off the ridge, Dunn used a GPS to navigate toward the compound’s coordinates. They moved as fast as they could through long grass and tangled brush. Sophie was glad Hawaii had none of the poisonous snakes or hazards of the jungle in Thailand, though they ran into a stand of “cat’s claw” vine with huge thorns and had to navigate around it. They were able to make better time once Dunn found a cattle track heading in the general direction of the compound.

  “Let’s set up a surveillance node within a klick of the compound,” Dunn said. “Raised ground would be ideal. Let’s go in slow in case any guards are posted outside.”

  The landscape was rendered in glowing green through the NV goggles and depth was hard to judge. The coordinates glowed from Dunn’s handheld GPS as they slowed to a stealthy walk, pausing to check for movement. Sophie’s senses felt heightened: every touch of leaf, the smell of dry grass and mulch, the rustle of wind in the trees—all of it was magnified by the surge of blood through her veins.

  Adrenaline was a great antidote to depression.

  They found a slight rise but no handy vantage points to see into the compound. “Gonna have to climb trees,” Dunn muttered. “Hate climbing trees.”

  “I don’t mind.” Sophie clipped the climbing spikes they’d brought onto her boots and in moments she was up in the spreading limbs of an albizia, NV binoculars held to her eyes as she tracked movements inside the compound and relayed the information to Dunn.

  Sophie watched for an hour before climbing down. “The children are all together in one yurt and in bed already. Identifying our targets in the dark is going to be an issue. That and the dogs.” They had a photo of each of the children, but how would they find the ones they were after? They each had copies of the photos in their pockets and they’d have to try to keep the kids quiet while they found the targets. Sophie hadn’t spotted any more guards patrolling besides the manned sniper tree—but that was because two large black German Shepherds were wandering loose. “Got those tranquilizer darts handy? We need to take out the dogs and the sniper, too.”

  “Hate dogs,” Dunn said. “Unpredictable.”

  “Kind of a baby, aren’t you?” Sophie said, beginning to enjoy needling him.

  “Yeah.” Dunn grinned with the easy good humor that seemed to be part of his personality. “Want to kiss it and make it better?”

  She had no comeback for that.

  “The tricky thing is going to be getting close enough and high enough to tranquilize the dogs wit
hout them raising the alarm,” Dunn said. “You’re good at climbing. I want you to get up the wall and take them out with the rifle. Then cut the razor wire. I’ll be right behind you and we’ll go over and penetrate the sleeping area.”

  Dunn was testing her. He knew Sophie had been mostly backup support at the FBI, insulated from front-line activity by her tech role. Now she was leading a dangerous civilian raid. She’d never felt more vulnerable, more uncertain—and yet more alive. After the lethargy of the last few days, the acuteness and energy felt like a drug.

  “Roger that.” Sophie wasn’t about to let her lack of confidence show. Dunn handed her the silenced rifle, already fitted with a NV scope and loaded with tranq darts. He gave her a belt and a climbing rope. She bent and attached the spikes to her boots, then donned heavy leather gloves.

  The ten-foot wall of the compound rose dead ahead, a dark monolith, the razor wire topping it a lacy scrim against the faint glow of yellowish security lights that stayed on even though everyone in the compound had gone to bed. Sophie made sure that wire snips were in her cargo pocket and patted her Glock for luck. She approached the wall at the farthest corner, partially out of view of the sniper tower and behind one of the taller tents.

  Making a cradle for her boot, Dunn boosted her higher up the wall than she would have believed—the man was strong. She caught the top of the heavy wood, careful to grab between the coils of razor wire. Using upper arm strength, she hauled herself high and dug the spikes at the toes of her boots into the wood of the fence.

  The razor wire caught the heavy ripstop sleeve of her black jacket and sliced it like butter. “Maggots writhing in rotting deer meat,” Sophie cursed softly.

  “What’s that?” Dunn’s voice sounded tinny in her earbud.

  “I’m going to have to cut some of this wire before I can do anything else.” Sophie set a metal piton into the top of the fence. She ran the rope through her belt and the piton, dropping the loose end to Dunn on the ground. Once he held the rope, anchoring her with the piton to the top of the fence, she was able to use both hands to cut a section of the razor wire, working with quick, quiet movements.

  A low growl from below the fence froze Sophie as she dropped the large section of wire to the ground.

  “Get him before he barks!” Dunn’s harsh whisper reverberated in her earbud. Sophie let go of the fence, relying entirely on the spikes in her boots and the rope at her waist to hold her upright. She unslung the rifle, and scanned the ground through the NV scope.

  The dark shape directly below her stalked forward, stiff-legged and snarling. Its behavior had attracted its partner, a streak of moving canine menace headed for their corner.

  Sophie shot the nearest dog in the neck and the running one in the side. Without waiting to see if they’d collapsed, she brought the rifle up and trained it at the sniper tree.

  The watchman was slumped against the trunk, sleeping.

  She nailed him twice in the chest, then looked back down at the dogs.

  They’d collapsed, silent black mounds of fur. She shot each of them again, not in the mood to be bit as they passed by with the children they were taking. “All clear.”

  “Good work. Drop the ladder.” Dunn handed her up a rolled bundle. Sophie tossed one side of the slender black nylon rope ladder over into the compound, and dropped the other back down to Dunn.

  “Move out,” Dunn ordered. Sophie could feel Dunn’s leashed power behind her as her partner climbed the flimsy but strong ladder behind her, the wall thumping slightly as his weight swung against the wood. Sophie angled her body through the opening in the razor wire and slung a leg over, finding the ladder with her boot, trying not to snag the spikes on it. She only used a couple of the ladder’s supports before jumping backwards to land on her feet. She bent and unclipped the spikes, stowing them in a pocket, the rifle cradled in her arms as she scanned the compound.

  Speed and silence were of the essence.

  Dunn took the lead as they moved out of the relative cover of the yurt that visually blocked their penetration point. Sophie stayed close to his imposing bulk as he trotted from cover spot to cover spot until they arrived at the raised tent Sophie had identified as the children’s sleeping quarters. They avoided the entrance, marked by a yellow security light.

  He signaled her, covering them as Sophie located a sharp cutting tool in her pack. It slid through the heavy tent material, zipping through the weave with a low hissing sound. Dunn went through the slit first.

  They were going to appear so frightening to the children. She pulled the tranq pistol packed for human dosage but dreaded having to use it. Hopefully they could find the kids in their beds using the NV goggles and the photographs—but how to convince them to come without raising an alarm? She hoped the picture they’d brought of Blumfield would help.

  Sophie took a deep breath and plunged after Dunn into the yurt.

  The interior was pitch black and smelled of warm bodies—but not the muskiness of adults. The sweetness of this smell was innocence, sleeping. Through the glowing green of the NV goggles, Sophie saw Dunn already working his way around the series of bunk beds, holding the photo up next to each face.

  Sophie turned to the bunk nearest her.

  A boy was on the bottom, his long legs and large feet showing he was too old to be the child she was looking for. Another large boy’s feet protruded from the top bunk.

  She moved on. A shock of blond hair on a smaller boy looked pale green. On the top bunk, a girl around the right age rested. Hair that would be red in daylight was a darker green than the boy’s.

  “Possible targets located,” Sophie whispered. “Need to make positive ID.”

  Dunn moved silently to her side. Sophie lifted the NV goggles and flashed the penlight she carried in the boy’s face.

  “Target identified.” Sophie paused, unsure how to proceed.

  A weight landed on her back and a scream filled her ears. Sophie grunted, dropping to her knees as the heavy adolescent’s momentum carried her forward to hit the floor. Her attacker must be the boy from the top bunk beside them. She heard the muffled spit of the tranq gun in Dunn’s hand and abruptly the weight crushing her disappeared.

  But all around her, the tent rustled with the sounds of waking children.

  Dunn spoke low but definite. “Stay in your beds and you won’t get hurt. We are here to take two children, Lono and Pele, to their mother, Sharon Blumfield. Keep quiet, understand? This kid on the floor is just sleeping, he’s not hurt. I don’t want to have to tranq anyone else, though, ok?”

  Silence.

  Sophie hated that Dunn was frightening the kids, but it seemed to be working as the total stillness of held breaths continued. She tugged the girl down from the bunk.

  “Pele?” The girl nodded. “Your mom sent us. My name is Sophie.” Sophie lit the photo of Blumfield with her penlight, and then bent to show it to the boy, still in his bunk. “We need you to come with us. Quick and quiet, now.”

  The girl nodded, reaching for her brother. “Let’s go, Lono,” she said.

  Sophie took the girl’s hand as she grasped her brother’s, and they ran across the room and out through the slit in the tent. She could hear Dunn’s breath behind her, the thud of his boots. The dogs she’d tranquilized were motionless black blots on the ground that made the kids turn their heads curiously.

  The most challenging part still lay ahead: the wall, the flimsy ladder, and the escape.

  “I’ll go over first and help them down on the other side,” Dunn whispered, reminding Sophie of the plan they’d discussed if the children couldn’t be retrieved without being knocked out.

  Dunn surged up the ladder as Sophie turned, her tranq gun ready, to surveille the compound.

  No one moved. The children in the tent had not given the alarm after that first cry.

  “Where are we going?” Pele asked.

  “To a helicopter that will take you to your mom.”

  “Ready,” Dunn said,
from the opposite side of the fence.

  Sophie lifted the boy to grasp the ladder. He was a solid sixty pounds or so, and she steadied him and helped the girl up next, grateful for all her exercising, and feeling a target between her shoulder blades with her back turned to the compound.

  The kids made it to the top and Dunn was helping them over as Sophie took a quick look around through the NV goggles. The sniper was still snoozing in the tree. The children’s tent was silent. Guilt stabbed Sophie—she hoped they hadn’t scared the poor kids out of their minds.

  She jumped up and climbed, the tranq rifle banging on her back by its strap. She followed them through the gap in the razor wire, slinging a leg over, taking a step down on the ladder, and jumping back to land on the earth in a crouch.

  “Chopper will meet us by the river. Gonna make some noise so let’s move out before we call for it.”

  Sophie took the girl’s hand as she held her brother’s, and they followed at a trot into the deep grass. The bulletproof vest Sophie wore prickled with sweat and apprehension as they tried to get some distance from the compound.

  The kids weren’t as fast as Sophie would have liked as they hurried down the cattle trail. Suddenly the lights came on in the compound, throwing the NV goggles into a whiteout glare as the place lit up behind them.

  Dunn reached the relative cover of the albizia tree they’d climbed for their original surveillance of the compound, and Sophie and the kids were right on his heels as he used the walkie-talkie to call for the helicopter. “Five minutes,” the pilot said.

  They moved out from under the tree, hearing yelling and shouts from the compound—and striking further dread into Sophie’s heart, the deep bark of the dogs. “They must have woken up!”

  “Move, move!” Dunn rasped. They ran, reaching the open area near the river that they’d chosen as a rendezvous since it was out of sniper range but open enough for the chopper to land.

  They could hear the chopper, but it wasn’t yet in sight.