Chapter 67
CHAPTER
SIXTY-SEVEN
Natalie and 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.
His blood went cold.
At least a dozen armed men loaded sealed drums into various white vans—drums that bore hazardous material symbols.
This wasn’t a single attack, Hudson realized. This was mass deployment. Those drums wouldn’t just be unleashed in Norfolk. They were headed to multiple cities.
And there near the gangway, surrounded by armed guards, stood Natalie and her father.
Even from fifty yards away, Hudson could see the fear on Natalie’s face. Could see Dimitri standing behind them, weapon drawn, preventing any escape.
And then there was the third man.
A man who looked all too familiar.
It was just as Hudson had feared.
Brass.
He really was alive and well.
“I’ve got visual,” Hudson whispered into his comm. “Two hostages, twelve-plus hostiles, and at least thirty barrels of chemical weapons being loaded for transport.”
“Copy,” Colton’s voice crackled in his ear. “Five minutes out. Hold position.”
Five minutes might as well be five hours. Those ships could finish unloading and the vans could depart in five minutes.
Hudson studied the situation, his mind running through scenarios.
They were outgunned and outnumbered.
A direct assault would get them all killed.
But if they could create a diversion, draw the guards away from Natalie . . .
“See that forklift?” Hudson whispered to Atlas.
Atlas followed his gaze. “Affirmative.”
“It runs on propane. If we can puncture the tanks—”
“There would be a massive explosion. Chaos. Everyone would focus on the fire.” Jake nodded slowly. “It would give us a window to take over the scene.”
“It’s risky,” Atlas said. “We can’t let the explosion be too close to these drums of chemicals. It could unleash them.”
Flashbacks of that terrible day in Ankara pummeled his mind. The pain. The devastation. The suffering.
He couldn’t let something like that happen again.
“Everything about this is risky.” Hudson’s eyes never left Natalie. “We keep the explosion far away. But sitting here while they finish loading those weapons isn’t an option. We move now or thousands of people die tonight.”
“Agreed,” Jake said.
Maverick pulled a computer from his backpack. “I think I may be able to remotely kill those vans. They’re new enough to have the latest technology, and technology can be hacked. If I can override their systems . . . then those vans won’t be going anywhere.”
“Great idea. See what you can do.” Jake turned back to them. “Okay, Atlas and I create the distraction. You get to Natalie.”
They split up—Jake and Atlas circling toward the forklift and staged drums, Hudson moving closer to the pier, positioning himself for a fast approach once chaos erupted.
He had one chance to get this right.
One chance to save Natalie before this whole operation imploded.
Hudson checked his weapon one more time, said a quick prayer, and waited for the explosion that would set everything in motion.