Rudd shook his head. He had a bad feeling about this one. CONTROL was essentially throwing two borderline-retired teams that hadn’t worked together in several years at a fairly complex hostage-rescue mission. In other words, a mad scramble to keep a kidnapped VIP from disappearing. To make matters worse, the target was on the move—and CONTROL wanted the teams together and moving to intercept in under two hours. No small feat, considering that the team comprised eight operatives spread across four states.

At least he didn’t have to coordinate their routes. The initial rally points had been selected for each team. He needed to be in Gadsden, Alabama, which gave him a little over thirty minutes to assemble the suggested gear and retrieve the van he kept at a nearby outdoor storage lot. He checked his watch and determined he needed to be driving out of the garage in less than fifteen minutes. Not a problem. The only question left was what to do about Jolene. CONTROL had not included her name on the roster, which meant exactly what it implied. For whatever reason, they didn’t want her involved in the operation.

Rudd resolved to tell her right before he walked out of the house, to minimize the uncomfortable scene guaranteed to unfold. Being sidelined wouldn’t sit well with her, especially since they were unlikely to see a high-stakes mission like this again. Ever. But CONTROL had their reasons—and the Rudds had never failed to obey CONTROL. On second thought, he decided the better approach would be to leave a note on the kitchen table and slip away without waking her. He’d rather face Jolene’s wrath in the morning than CONTROL’s. The latter didn’t accept apologies. Not that Jolene was the forgiving type.

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

Helen Gray jolted awake, hands locked in a death grip on the steering wheel. Her car was still on the two-lane road, slightly over the center line—traveling twelve miles per hour faster than the last time she remembered checking. She eased the sedan back into the right-hand lane and slowed to match the speed limit. The last thing she needed right now was to draw the wrong kind of attention.

A staccato series of thumps against the back seat, coming from the trunk, reinforced that sentiment. Getting pulled over would radically complicate an already thorny situation. She’d face an unthinkable question, requiring an immediate answer: Was the life of a police officer worth sacrificing to prevent a national catastrophe?

Helen didn’t want to think about it. She’d already crossed at least one line that she couldn’t take back. And that was just the beginning if the man stuffed in her trunk didn’t feel like talking. She was willing to go to extreme measures to extract the information he possessed. The duffel bag in the footwell behind her seat contained everything she needed to encourage him to talk.