Page 120 of Critical Mass
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SEVEN
Natalieand her father were forced from the helicopter and onto the pier.
Brass—she assumed that’s who he was—approached them, accompanied by two men on either side.
Brass paused in front of them.
“Hello,Jonathan,” Natalie said with a scowl. “How did you manage to pretend to be him?”
“Thankfully, you’d never seen the real Jonathan. I was able to intercept his emails and calls, and I arranged it so that I could meet you instead.”
“How clever of you.” Her words came out with a bite.
“Unfortunately, my plan to woo you romantically didn’t work. Sorry it had to end this way.”
“You were behind this?” Her father practically spit out the words. “I thought you were a sales consultant!”
“You have to do what you have to do.” He shrugged.
“You were monitoring me from inside my own building.” Her father shook his head. “And this whole time I assumed it was Volkov behind this.”
“Don’t worry, Richard,” Brass said. “Your name will be remembered—as the greatest terrorist America has ever known.
Natalie’s breath caught at the words.
The greatest terrorist America has ever known.
She looked at her father and saw the horror on his face.
Her world began to spin as reality crashed down on her.
Brass’s smile widened. “Yes, Ms. Ravenscroft. Your father’s contacts, his shipping routes, his warehouse, his meetings in Dubai—all carefully documented, all pointing to him as the mastermind of Sigma. When we release our nerve agent during rush hour, and these chemicals reach the surrounding cities, Richard Ravenscroft will be the most wanted man in America.”
“You coward,” her father breathed. “I trusted you. I brought you into my business?—”
“You were useful. A legitimate businessman with international connections and more greed than commonsense.” Brass gestured to his men. “I needed someone to take the fall. You volunteered yourself beautifully.”
“The chemicals.” Desperation tinged her father’s voice until each syllable cracked. “Thousands of people will die. Innocent people.”
“That’s the point.” Brass pulled a tablet from his jacket. “Now, you’re going to authorize the shipping manifest. Make it official. Make it look like Richard Ravenscroft himself signed off on this cargo.”
“I won’t do it.” Her father raised his chin higher.
Brass sighed, pulled a handgun from inside his jacket, and pointed it at Natalie.
“You will. Or I kill your daughter right here in front of you.”
Hudson and his team moved to the perimeter fence, staying low, using shadows and parked vehicles for cover.
Hudson scaled the fence first, his training taking over despite the adrenaline and fear churning in his gut—not to mention the pain from his injuries. Behind him, Jake and Atlas silently followed.
The maze of shipping containers provided excellent cover as they advanced toward Pier 19. Hudson heard activity now—someone voicing indiscernible instructions, the beep of machinery, the metallic clang of heavy drums being loaded.
He held up a fist, signaling stop.
They stacked up behind a container, and Hudson carefully peered around the corner.
