Page 57 of Fearless
My father’s brows knit together. “And what kind of job are you giving them?”
“An easy one. All they have to do is attend the New Year gathering in Times Square. The FBI will arrest them for an attempted terrorist attack. They’ll either go to Guantanamo orbe deported back to Cuba. Either way, I don’t really care.”
My mother starts flailing in her chair and eventually falls over. She glares at Whitman from the ground. “You’re despicable. It’s bad enough you illegally bring them into this country, but you do it by giving them the hope of freedom. Then you smash that hope by framing them for a crime they didn’t commit. You’re as bad as CIA Director Borshardt ever was. Actually, you’re worse.”
The rapid gunfire outside has all but ceased, and nearly three dozen men march Zurkowski, Ackerman, Walsh, Henrickson—and six other men I don’t recognize—into the barn. Whitman’s men have confiscated the weapons and have M-4s pointed at my father’s team.
“I think it’s time we made an example out of these traitors,” Whitman shouts, gesturing to the lot of us. Then he leans between my father and me, talking softly. “I gave you information, Robert. Now, it’s time for you to reciprocate. However, should you fail to cooperate, know that I have a contingency plan. There’s a shipment of plutonium with my name on it. I just need to say the word. Whatever you decide, it won’t stop this from happening.”
Whitman takes a step backward and reaches for his weapon. “Cut their restraints,” he shouts as he pulls out his gun and points it at me.
I wait for Monroe to cut away the tape securing our ankles before twisting my wrists to tear the duct tape that binds them. Just as I lunge for Whitman, the Shining Knight Team appears and points their weapons at Whitman. I falter, but Whitman doesn’t. He spins out of the way and wraps his arm around myneck, pulling me up to a standing position.
Before I can make a move, I feel the muzzle end of his gun press against my temple.
Chapter thirty
Roger
My team barely holds me back as we listen to Whitman spill his plans without a care in the world. Then, I nearly lose it when he threatens to remove Harper’s fingernails.“One. By. One.”Disgusting.
“Harper is fine,” Savannah says reassuringly.
“She’s not fine!” I whisper shout. “Does Whitman sound like he’s operating with a full deck? No, he’s not. He’s not bluffing! He’ll kill Harper to get what he wants.”
The team stares at me as if I’m the one who’s losing it. “What?”
Ethan smiles. “It’s just different seeing you all kerfluffled. You’re the most level-headed one in our group.”
“Ben’s fairly level-headed,” Jessie argues. “He rarely smiles. He’d give the British guards a run for their money in the stoic department.” Jessie mimics one of the royal guards who rarely blink or move a muscle.
“I’m right here, Jessie,” Ben says, not cracking a smile.
“See what I mean?” she asks.
Ethan chuckles. “He hasn’t always been that way. But you should have seen him when his now wife, Claire, was kidnapped. Woo wee. Talk about emotion overload!”
Ben pushes Ethan. “Shut it. This is not the time for jokes.”
Carter mumbles, “It’s always the time for jokes.”
We watch from a distance as Zurkowski and the rest of his team are apprehended and marched inside the dilapidated barn. “That’s our cue,” I say, moving in.
We spread out and circle the building, five of us stacking up on each side of the two open entrances. Whitman shouts, “Cut their restraints!” and I know that time is up.
“Move! Move! Move!” I shout.
I lift up my weapon to the “ready” position and am the first of us to breach. It takes me less than a nanosecond to locate Harper and train my weapon on Whitman, who has a gun to her head. The rest of the team files in, each picking a target.
“Drop your weapon, Whitman, or I’ll drop you,” I yell.
Whitman takes a step back, dragging Harper with him. “What are you waiting for? Kill them! They’re terrorists!” he shouts.
Like a choreographed dance, all of Whitman’s men release the magazines in their weapons and replace them with fresh ones. They return the weapons they had confiscated back to Finnegan’s men, who also reload. As one, they turn and aim their guns at Whitman in a united front.
Agent Simms and Agent Monroe already have their weapons drawn, but they shift their position and train their weapons on Agent Smith and Agent Jones. Whitman had no idea the number of agents loyal to Finnegan.
Robert and Eloise pull their hands apart and shake out their wrists. “Is that the sound of victory I hear?” Robert says scathingly. “Let Harper go, Marshall. No one has died yet, and no one has to.”
