Mojave Rescue. Tanya Stowe
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face the dark right now. Outside the small office, a long, empty corridor led to the front. That stretch of blackness would be more than enough to cross.
She opened the door and stood in the portal, light pouring into the black hall, and stared down the long, inky stretch of about forty feet. The main doors were just around the corner. Still, the corridor seemed endless.
She fumbled in her jacket pocket for her cell phone, grateful it had a flashlight app. Just as she swiped her phone menu up, the desk lamp behind her switched off. Sudden darkness blanketed the room, and she heard the slow whirring of machines shutting down.
The power had been cut off.
Fingers trembling, she fumbled with her cell phone. She needed light. Now.
The main door clicked open. The soft tread of someone walking down the hall echoed in the Stygian darkness.
The light on her cell phone flashed on, illuminating the corridor like a spotlight. Drina pressed the off button, stuffed the phone in her pocket, turned and ran in the opposite direction.
Even with her heart pounding in her ears she could hear her tennis shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. Whoever was behind her surely heard her clamoring down the hall. An emergency exit waited just around the corner. If she could get out the door and around the building, she might reach her car ahead of whoever was behind her. She’d lock the doors and speed straight to the closest military police station.
The red exit sign above the door was a welcoming beacon. She raced to it, slammed into the security bar and skidded out onto the raised entrance.
A blast of cold Mojave Desert wind slapped at her face, nearly robbing her of breath. Drina had only been to this test facility a few times but she’d already developed an intense dislike of the wind. Its cold touch made her shiver even more. Thankfully, she’d cut her dark hair into a short bob just before coming here. No long strands blocked her view as she gripped the handrail with both hands and slid under. She landed on her feet and took off at a run even before she had her balance.
She stumbled and almost fell, only stopping herself by pushing against the side of the building. Arms pumping, she ran toward the front, fearful she might trip again without moonlight to guide her. But she dared not slow down.
Reaching the corner of the building, she came to a skidding halt. A man in dark clothing stood near her car, the lone vehicle in the parking lot. Was that a gun in his hand? Drina caught her breath and held it, not daring to make a sound. Her gaze darted to the side.
Joshua trees with their unique thick branches and straggly coatings marked the edge of the hill and were silhouetted against the night sky. The road back to the main portion of the rocket site looped around this building on the hilltop. The paved road was just below the trees. If she could get down the hill without tumbling and hurting herself, she could follow the road back to the cluster of buildings and find help.
Drina spun back around and banged hard against the bulky form of another man dressed in all dark clothing. She would have fallen to the ground if he hadn’t grasped her, clutching her to his chest with one arm. He loomed over her, a faceless silhouette, and held on tight as she silently struggled to break free. The stars overhead outlined his raised fist...just before it crashed against the side of her jaw and everything went black.
* * *
Cal Norwood pushed the visor of his car up as he reached the shadows of the mountains. Edwards Air Force Base was located on the far eastern edge of a three-sided valley that spilled into the vast Mojave Desert. He’d been driving west, straight into the setting sun for forty minutes. From the moment he’d locked his office door on the base and headed to the meeting place, his senses had snapped like broken electric wires.
He eased off the asphalt to the dirt service road and slowed to a halt. Gripping the steering wheel, he scanned the countryside for a car then the air for a helicopter...anything that would give him a hint of what waited for him just over the hill.
Nothing. Not a sign, nor a sound. Not even tire tracks of the car he knew was there.
Please, Lord. Don’t let it be true. Don’t let her be in that shack. I won’t give up...not now when I’m so close. Buddy deserves justice.
Earlier this morning he’d listened to Drina Gallagher’s message and was filled with dread. He’d dressed and rushed to the complex, only to find her empty rented car in the parking lot, signs of a struggle in the dirt and her car keys on the ground. He believed her disappearance had something to do with the text he’d received the evening before from his secret contact.
You got your wish. Be at the shack at 5 p.m. tomorrow. You’re meeting the boss.
Two years ago Cal’s best friend died at the hands of a black market gang. Andrew Sterling, Buddy to his friends, had been Cal’s friend most of their lives. They grew up in a quaint older housing tract perched on the hills of San Diego, overlooking the bay. Together they’d watched the big navy ships sail in and out and promised each other that one day, they’d do their part. Buddy had joined the NCIS. Cal had joined the CIA.
After Buddy was killed, the Department of Defense and the CIA created a joint task force to infiltrate and uncover the gang stealing weapon plans from all the military forces. Cal called in a few favors and wrangled an undercover position on the force. His assignment had turned into two long years of leaks, dead ends and betrayals. Driven, he was determined one way or another to stop these men from killing more people. He ate, slept and lived for the moment when he could finally bring the gang down and serve up justice for Buddy and countless others.
Then last night the text had come through. He was finally going to meet the devious leader of a group who had infiltrated the highest echelons of government security and still managed to escape detection. The end was so close Cal could taste it...until he’d heard Drina’s message. The taste of victory turned sour in his mouth.
An already-dangerous situation had been made even more complicated by the disappearance of one dark-haired scientist.
Drina Gallagher was brilliant—and prettier than he’d anticipated. He’d heard so much praise about her work, he’d expected an older, more staid woman to walk into his briefing room, not a perky, petite beauty who created an immediate internal reaction he didn’t want or expect.
Drina hid behind some overlarge black-rimmed spectacles, but that was where the scientist stereotype ended. Behind those glasses was a pert nose, a pair of hazel-colored eyes that seemed to change color with her mood and a tiny, fragile-looking body. Capped by a head of short, shiny black hair that wanted to curl, she looked more like a hyperbubbly nerd than a world-renowned scientist...a nerd that had somehow ignited feelings Cal had buried deep with his true identity.
She sparked sweet thoughts of laughter and fun, which was ridiculous because her out-of-sync look hid a snarky attitude. Some of the men on his team in Washington believed she might be the spy. But Cal had recognized her I’m-checking-out look as soon as he began his briefing on security. Drina Gallagher wasn’t the leak. She was just as driven as he. Focused on her work and nothing else. He doubted she’d heard a word of his briefing or even cared about being cautious.
Maybe if she’d paid attention she wouldn’t be missing right now, and two long, desperate years of Cal’s work wouldn’t be on the line.
As he’d alerted her superiors and his, he wondered if the man behind the text was “the boss.” Was his contact the mastermind who had eluded detection for so long? Was Cal being played...and lured into a trap?
He didn’t know the answers and until he did, until he met and could identify the traitor, he couldn’t take any chances or trust anyone—not the military, not Drina’s company, not even the security detail he worked with on the base. What was more, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a direct link between his scheduled meeting with the boss and Drina Gallagher’s disappearance.
During the long day his on-base security team had contacted Drina’s coworkers and family, searching for a reason she might have chosen to disappear. They dusted for fingerprints—even tried to match