“I know it,” Chase told him quickly. “I know exactly where it is.”
“Sending backup.”
“Fast as you can.”
“We’ve got the control tower. They’ll stall on the plane.”
“Gotcha. Thanks.”
He turned toward the highway, glad he knew the city and the route to take.
Grateful, too, when Wellington’s voice came to him again.
“He had one hell of a lead, but you’re closing in. The airport is right ahead—”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Backup—”
“May be too late. Still no sign of Miguel—”
“No. As I told you, the families are safe. Agents got his assassins, and I think one of them is a major player. That part of the takedown went as planned—even though we were hoping these were hits the man might have wanted to take himself.” He was silent just a moment and added, “We should have been on Malcolm,” Wellington said.
“I should have been on him,” Chase said, furious with himself that he had missed the man. But they hadn’t known the scope of what was happening.
Now they did.
“Half a mile. I think they’re turning into the airport.”
“Yeah.”
Chase was on them. They were turning into the small airport. But he knew that if Malcolm saw him, he’d probably shoot Sky on the spot just to kill her, because he wouldn’t go down alone.
He drove the car to the side of the road, drew his weapon and warned Larry, “Stay close to me! Duty, Larry. We’re on duty.”
Larry gave a little sound of agreement. He’d been trained in many disciplines and was still a police dog to the core.
Chase leaped over the small fence, followed by Larry, and they headed along the outer shell of the place, watching as the black SUV came to a halt.
“Stealth mode, Larry,” he said.
He hadn’t had much of a chance to work with the dog, but he had faith that Sky had been given one of the best, an animal deserving a good life after taking a few shots in the line of duty.
Creeping along the buildings, they came within earshot as Malcolm got out of the car.
Sky apparently had no intention of helping him. He walked around to the passenger’s seat, searching the area as he did so, grabbing her arm and dragging her out of the car.
“Now!” he told her harshly.
Larry was tense, letting out a low growl.
“Steady, boy, steady. On my command,” Chase told him.
He could hear Sky. She wasn’t rolling over—or shaking in fear.
“Why? You said you didn’t want to take me to Mexico!” she said harshly.
Malcolm was looking at the plane, frowning. “Where the hell’s the damned pilot?” He drew his gun, looking around.
As he asked the question, a man appeared at the top of the short flight of stairs leading to the body of the jet.
It wasn’t the pilot.
Chase had never seen him in person before, but he’d seen pictures on the screens at the New Orleans offices.
It was Miguel Esposito, head of the major crime ring behind it all.
“So, here you are!” Esposito said to Malcolm. “And with a hostage. You have the money?”
“Right here,” Malcolm told him. “Yeah, I’ve got a hostage.”
“So...who do we have here?”
“Just a disposable, as soon as we get the bird in the air free and clear.”
“Ah, but maybe not so quickly!” Esposito said, eyeing Sky with amusement.
“Disposable, trust me. She’s trouble,” Malcolm said.
