11. Free Fall
Free Fall
Forest
I should be thinking about the jump.
In thirty-five minutes, I need to be on my way to Henderson. My gear is ready, my three mates know the timeline, and Janice has the operation running from San Francisco while G finishes the rooftop mapping.
Instead, I’m walking into a lounge with Jax and Matthias to see a singer.
Sandie Cross.
The name means nothing to me. It means everything to the man beside me.
Matthias hasn’t said much since he saw the poster. He keeps moving, keeps answering questions, keeps doing his job, but the scientist who calmly explained Meridian’s memory suppression to us has disappeared behind ten and a half years of searching for his little sister.
We take seats near the back where we can see the stage without drawing attention.
Jax checks the time. “You’ve got thirty minutes.”
“I know.”
Matthias looks at me. “You don’t have to stay.”
“Yeah, I do.”
Because if the woman on that poster is Thandiwe Cross, I’m not leaving Matthias alone when he sees her.
The lights dim at seven. Conversation fades as the band gets in place and the stage lighting comes up.
Then Sandie Cross walks out.
Matthias goes completely still beside me.
Matthias showed me a photograph of Thandiwe earlier. A teenage girl laughing beside her brother. One of the few pieces of her he’s carried through countries, investigations and more than ten years of dead ends.
The woman onstage is older. Naturally.
But now I understand what stopped Matthias in the lobby. The cheekbones.
I look at him. His eyes don’t leave her.
“That’s her,” he whispers.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. She has our mother’s cheekbones.”
His voice catches, and Jax looks across him at me.
Sandie begins to sing.
She’s polished. Professional. Comfortable beneath the lights. Nothing about her suggests a woman who knows her brother is sitting near the back of the room staring at her after believing for more than a decade that she might be dead.
Matthias goes even stiller.
“Her voice.”
I glance at him.
“It hasn’t changed.”
Jax looks toward the stage, and I understand why Meridian kept her. She’s extraordinary. The kind of voice that fills the room without effort, deep and powerful and dramatic enough to make every head turn toward the stage.
She isn’t some lounge act they’ve hidden away. She’s a professional. A drawcard. And if Meridian has been controlling her career all this time, she’s probably made them a small fortune.
I keep my voice low. “Does she look like she recognizes anything?”
“No.”
That single word carries more pain than everything he’s said since we arrived in Vegas.
I check the time. 1908.
I hate leaving him now, but Hope is still somewhere above us and the guys are waiting for me. I put a hand on Matthias’s shoulder.
“I have to go.”
He nods without looking away from the stage.
“Jax stays with you. Watch her. Don’t approach until we know what we’re dealing with.”
“I understand.”
Jax gives me a nod. He has him.
I stand, but Matthias catches my wrist. When I look down, his eyes are wet.
“I found her, Forest. Finally.”
There’s nothing I can say to ten and a half years compressed into a few words. So, I squeeze his shoulder once.
“Then don’t lose her. See you at the drop zone.”
I leave them there and head for the exit.
At one end of this hotel, Matthias is watching the sister he refused to stop searching for.
At the other, Hope is waiting for us to reach her.
I check the time again as I step outside. 1910.
Twenty minutes until I leave for Henderson.
Tonight, we bring them both home.
Henderson Executive Airport, Nevada. 1950 hours.
By the time I reach Henderson, my three mates are waiting beside our gear with the aircraft being prepared behind them.
Jasper looks at his watch. “Cutting it fine.”
“Had something to do.”
“More important than jumping out of a perfectly functional aircraft?”
“Tonight? Maybe.”
That gets their attention, but I don’t explain. Matthias’s story isn’t mine to tell.
We get to work, although they’ve done most of it already.
Harnesses, oxygen systems, helmets, comms, parachutes, reserves. Everything gets checked, then checked by someone else. We’ve done this enough times together to know excitement doesn’t excuse mistakes.
Janice comes through my earpiece while I’m tightening a strap.
“Forest, roof mapping’s done,” she says. “G found recent aerial imagery. Flat roof, plenty of open space, perimeter lighting. No garden, structures or other major obstacles where you’re aiming.”
“Tell G I owe him.”
“He says you already do.”
I grin. “Hope’s Beacon?”
“Still transmitting from the same location.”
That matters more than anything else she’s said.
“She still getting messages?”
“Yes.”
“Send her another one. Tell her we’re on schedule for exfil.”
“I’ll let her know.”
“Tell her to stay ready. We’re coming.”
By 2025, we’re aboard.
Las Vegas spreads beneath us as we climb, an impossible concentration of light surrounded by desert darkness. The higher we go, the smaller everything becomes until Fontainebleau is just another point somewhere inside the glow.
Except it isn’t. Hope’s down there.
Janice confirms her Beacon again as we continue climbing. G has loaded the rooftop coordinates and the live reference onto our devices. Once we’re under canopy and closing on the building, we’ll have both.
I look across at the other three. Jasper gives me a thumbs-up. Col grins behind his mask. Pete looks like Christmas arrived early.
Same idiots I trusted when we wore uniforms together. Same men I trust tonight.
The aircraft reaches altitude and the final checks begin.
Thirty thousand feet.
Oxygen on.
Equipment secure.
Comms checked.
The city looks unreal below us.
The door opens and cold air tears into the cabin.
Col lets out a muffled “Woohoo!”
I laugh despite myself.
Jasper joins him. Bloody children.
I move to the door and look down.
This part has always made sense to me. The height. The noise. The absolute commitment required once you step beyond the aircraft.
But tonight isn’t about the jump.
It’s about where we’re going.
“Janice, Forest.”
“I’m here.”
“We’re at altitude.”
“Hope’s Beacon is steady. She knows you’re on schedule.”
I close my eyes briefly.
“Copy.”
The light changes. I look at my mates.
Four nods. Then we’re gone.
The aircraft disappears above us and Las Vegas fills the world below.
For several seconds, there’s nothing but free fall and the rush of air.
Then Col’s voice breaks through comms.
“Fucking missed this!”
Jasper whoops.
I grin into my mask. Yeah. Me too.
We hold formation as the city races closer, making corrections without wasting movement. Years of training are still there in every decision.
Altitude falls.
Twenty thousand.
Fifteen.
Ten.
The lights sharpen beneath us.
Fontainebleau separates from the surrounding towers.
Hope’s Beacon confirms what we already know. She’s there.
I watch the altimeter.
Wait.
Wait.
Now.
I deploy.
The canopy snaps open above me.
Around me, three more appear against the Vegas night.
The rooftop is below us.
Flat.
Lit.
Clear.
I steer toward it.
We’re coming, Hope.
Fontainebleau Las Vegas. 2120 hours.
My boots hit the roof and I’m moving before the canopy finishes collapsing behind me.
Jasper lands seconds later, Col and Pete almost together farther across the open space. Four men down, all exactly where we need to be.
“Forest to HQ. We’re on the roof.”
Janice answers immediately. “Copy. All four?”
“All four.”
“Hope’s Beacon is still steady.”
Best thing I’ve heard all night.
We gather the canopies quickly and move toward the edge G marked for us. Hope’s Beacon places her directly below this section of the building, one level down in the penthouse.
I look over the parapet.
Not far. A private terrace beneath us, dark except for the spill of light through the penthouse windows. Outdoor furniture. Glass doors. Nobody visible.
Exactly where we need it.
“Terrace confirmed,” I tell Janice.
“Copy. G has you in position.”
Jasper starts securing my line while I swap out my chute and Col and Pete unpack the additional parachute gear we brought for Hope.
The guys will pack up the deployed chutes and the rest of the gear we leave behind for pickup later.
Our exit plan is sitting right there.
Once I have her, I get her onto the terrace, fit the spare harness and we leave from there.
Through the sky.
No elevators. No stairwells. No trying to move a traumatized woman through a hotel full of civilians while her kidnappers chase us.
Jax and Matthias will be waiting at the drop zone, assuming everything between here and there behaves itself.
It rarely does.
“Janice, tell Hope we’re here.”
“Copy.”
I check my harness while Jasper checks the line again.
Col looks over the edge. “Hell of a view.”
“You had a better one five minutes ago.”
“Yeah, but I was falling through that one.”
Pete laughs quietly. The three of them are enjoying this far too much.
So am I.
But Hope is beneath us, and that strips the exhilaration out of what comes next.
“Anything from inside?” I ask.
“Nothing new,” Janice says. “Hope’s Beacon hasn’t moved.”
“Tell her to stay where she is unless she has to move for her own safety. I’m coming to her.”
“Copy.”
I look at Jasper.
“You know the drill. I get Hope onto the terrace, strap her in and take her off the building from there.”
“Got it.”
“Col, Pete, you stay topside until we’re clear, then you three follow.”
Jasper grins. “See you at the bottom.”
“That’s the plan.”
I check my equipment one last time, then swing my legs over the parapet.
The Strip stretches below me in every direction, all neon and headlights and people having absolutely no idea what’s happening sixty floors above them.
One level down, a woman I met once at my brother’s wedding is waiting for HAVEN.
Hope Chan. I remember her smile. I remember dancing with her. And I remember thinking I’d like another chance to see her.
This isn’t how I expected to get it.
I ease myself over the edge. The line takes my weight.
“Forest?” Janice says.
“Descending now.”
I rappel toward the terrace.
A few seconds later, my boots touch solid ground.
I release the line and turn toward the glass doors.
I’m here, Hope.
Now I just have to get to you.
Fontainebleau Las Vegas. 2125 hours.
The glass doors are locked.
As expected.
I crouch beside the frame and look through into the penthouse. Low lighting. Expensive furniture. No movement close to the doors.
“Forest to HQ. I’m at the terrace.”
Janice answers immediately. “Hope’s Beacon is still inside, same position.”
“Copy.”
I pull the glass breaker from my kit. Small, simple, ugly little tool. Exactly what I need.
I press it into the lower corner of the door, away from where anyone inside is likely to be standing, and strike.
The tempered glass fractures in a sharp web.
I hit it again. The panel gives way.
Noise carries through the penthouse. So much for subtle.
I clear the remaining glass from the frame, step through and draw my weapon.
“Forest?”
“I’m in.”
The penthouse is larger than it looked on the plans. Open-plan living area, kitchen, hallway disappearing toward the bedrooms. Music plays somewhere deeper inside, low enough that whoever chose it probably thought it made the place feel relaxed.
It doesn’t.
“Hope?” I call quietly.
Nothing.
Janice’s voice comes through my earpiece.
“Forest, movement. Our guy’s coming from the hallway. Heading your way.”
“Copy.”
I move off the broken doorway and take position.
He appears seconds later.
His expression changes when he sees me standing in the middle of the penthouse wearing tactical gear.
“What the fuck?”
His hand drops toward his waistband. Bad choice.
I step into him before he can clear whatever he’s reaching for, drive him into the wall and strip the weapon from his hand. He swings once, wild and angry.
I put him on the floor.
Hard.
“Stay down.”
He doesn’t.
So I make the decision for him. A few seconds later he’s unconscious and zip-tied beside the wall.
“HQ, captor secure.”
Janice exhales over comms. “Copy. Hope’s Beacon just moved.”
Then I hear something behind me.
I turn.
Hope is standing near the entrance to the hallway.
Pale. Exhausted. Hair tangled around her face.
But she’s standing.
Alive.
Her gaze moves from the man on the floor to me.
“Forest?”
Everything else disappears.
“Yeah. It’s me.”
She stares at me for half a second, like her brain is catching up with what her eyes already know. Then she runs.
I barely have time to holster my weapon before she hits me hard enough to make me take a step back, her arms locking around me.
I hold her.
“I got you.”
Her face presses into my shoulder.
“You came.”
“Yeah.”
Her grip tightens. I key my comms.
“Janice.”
“I’m here.”
I look down at Hope.
“I’ve got her.”
There’s noise in the operations room before Janice answers.
“Copy. Mercy heard you.”
Hope closes her eyes.
“My sister?”
“Waiting for you.”
That nearly breaks her. I give her a few seconds, then pull back enough to look at her properly.
“We have to move.”
She nods. No argument. No hesitation.
I guide her toward the terrace. Outside, Las Vegas is waiting below us.
So are Jax and Matthias.
I pull the tandem harness from my pack and start fitting it around her.
Hope looks over the edge.
Then at me.
“We’re going down that way?”
“Yep.”
She stares at me.
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
That gets the smallest laugh out of her. Exactly what I wanted.
I tighten the final strap.
“Trust me?”
Hope looks at the drop, then back at me.
“Yes.”
I secure her against the front of me and step toward the edge.
“Keep your head back against me, arms in and don’t fight the harness.”
Hope looks down.
“And screaming?”
“Optional.”
“Great.”
“Just don’t deafen me.”
“HQ, Forest. We’re ready to exfil.”
Janice’s voice comes back steady.
“Copy. Jax’s Beacon is live at the drop zone.”
I look up toward the roof. Three faces appear over the parapet.
Jasper gives me a thumbs-up. I return it.
Then I wrap one arm around Hope.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Perfect.”
We step off the building.