The Rescue(60)



Pierce’s family had miraculously survived that fateful night, thanks to his wife’s last-minute decision to drive the kids to their vacation home in the Outer Banks. According to the surveillance footage from Pierce’s Annapolis home, the hit team sent to murder his family missed them by two hours.

“We ran a quick analysis of the media surrounding his release,” said Harlow. “Coverage started out with a few dozen simultaneous news blurbs across the country in small to medium-size internet-based news outlets and spread from there. It very closely resembled the kind of strategy a publicist would employ to make a story go viral.”

Decker didn’t like the implications. Maybe the near miss at Pierce’s Annapolis home hadn’t been luck.

“I can’t believe he would betray me.”

“I pored through the court transcripts and listened to all of the media analysis. The US attorney didn’t hit you with any surprises,” said Harlow. “I don’t see how he could have betrayed you to the feds, so to speak.”

“Not after we were hauled in,” said Decker, his face warming with anger. “Before.”

“I don’t see how— Why would— I can’t see Pierce doing that.”

“Neither can I, but someone tipped off the FBI. They hit us at precisely the same moment that my team hit the Bratva house. That’s not a coincidence. I can believe that the Russians somehow detected my surveillance days before and set me up for a fall, but Reeves’s simultaneous arrival at the motel in Hemet always bothered me. That would have required real-time intel, leading right up to the raid. And who’s to say Pierce wasn’t playing both sides? He could have tipped off the Russians and fed them information to save his own skin—and his family’s. If your original theory is correct, he’s the only member of WRG that got away unscathed.”

“Aegis, or someone closely affiliated, had a drone flying over the house,” said Harlow. “There’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“There’s only one way to find out. Find Brad Pierce.”

“I don’t see how,” said Harlow. “We haven’t been able to find anything on him. He very thoroughly vanished the moment he walked out of the Metropolitan Detention Center. Not a single blip on the radar, except for the suspiciously timed media blitz about his release, which could have been planned months in advance, and the faked disappearance in Idaho.”

“I know where to find him,” said Decker.

“You’re serious?”

“If he’s not where I suspect he is, he’s definitely gone—and we’re back to square one.”

“I can’t see any harm in trying.”

“Oh, there’s plenty harm in trying. Especially with a guy like Pierce,” said Decker. “He won’t go quietly.”

“Do you need backup?” she said. “I can hire a solid team to help you with this.”

“No. I need to do this alone.”

“This isn’t the time for heroics,” said Harlow. “And I don’t mean to call your skills into question.”

“I’m not being heroic. I’m being tactical. The location I have in mind is isolated. I’ll have to approach it on foot, starting from miles away to avoid drawing his attention.”

“I can put the team on a helicopter and keep them within quick ferry range if things get ugly.”

“I guess I’d be a fool to turn that down.”

“Yes. You would.”

“How much lead time do you need for the helicopter and team?”

“Thirty-six to forty-eight hours—to do it right,” said Harlow. “Depending on the location.”

“It’s pretty isolated. Have you ever heard of Aguilar, Colorado?”

“No.”

“Ludlow?”

“Sorry,” she said.

“There’s a reason for that,” said Decker. “Ludlow is a ghost town, and you’d miss Aguilar if you blinked while driving. They’re in the eastern foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Gorgeous country, but not much out there.”

“Sounds like the perfect place to disappear.”

“Or get swallowed up,” said Decker. “I need you to pull up recent satellite imagery for the foothills west of Aguilar. As detailed as you can get it. I’ll get my computer up and running when I stop for the night.”

“I’ll put together a package and get the ball rolling on your support team,” said Harlow. “You plan on driving straight through?”

“I need to look at a map first, but I’m pretty sure I’d be driving long into the night to get there.”

“Twelve and a half hours if you take Interstate 40 to Albuquerque and turn north on Interstate 25.”

“That’s right. Twenty-five runs right by Aguilar,” said Decker, vaguely remembering the dusty little town. “I’ll stop when the sun goes down—at a reputable-looking motel.”

“Still reliving last night?”

“Still smelling last night,” said Decker. “What else is going on with you and the crew?”

“Not much. We’re holed up with my SCIF team in a very secure location, hoping to catch a break down in the city,” she said. “I have third-party surveillance crews sitting on a few of my partners’ apartments, hoping Gunther Ross’s people show up.”

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