Primary Target (1999) (13 page)

Scott's senses were on full alert and the hair on his neck stood up. "Let's go find out how bad it is," he said solemnly as he gently took her by the arm. "Come on, just start walking."

Visibly shaken by the incident, the young college student lowered his transceiver from his ear. He caught Scott's eye, then spoke in a hollow voice. "According to the reports I'm hearing, they went straight in."

"My God," Jackie said in a soft, flat voice. Her lip quivered as she remembered her friend's infectious smile and eccentric bow ties. "Eddy," she murmured with a sob. "That could have been us in ..." She trailed off, unable to get the rest of it out. "Oh, my God ... why?"

When Scott reached for her, she gratefully embraced him and buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. He held her close and absorbed the shudders that shook her body. Fate had intervened. By the grace of God, they had dodged the Grim Reaper.

Horrified and shaken by their close brush with death, Scott looked around the immediate area. His instincts were screaming, Khaliq Farkas. He's here, 1 can feel it in the pit of my stomach. The sick little bastard just took out a plane full of antiterrorist experts.

Scott cupped the back of Jackie's head and held her more tightly to his shoulder. Did Farkas know we were scheduled to be on the plane?

"Jackie," he said in a barely audible voice. "Look at me." He paused to compose himself. "I don't think the crash was caused by the weather. I think--" He stopped when she pulled away.

Jackie stifled a sob and looked into his eyes for a long moment. The realization suddenly hit her, causing her stomach to twist into knots. "You think it was sabotage?"

"Yes," he said in a calm voice that left little doubt about his conviction. "I'm almost positive."

"Farkas?" she asked as a sense of terror gripped her. Scott frowned. "Think about it. He was spotted in Wyoming--flying a military jet--and now a plane full of terrorist experts crashes."

"You're right," she said weakly, staring into his eyes. "Did he know we were going to be on that flight?"

"That's what we need to find out."

Dalton studied the throng of people in the concourse, then turned to Jackie. "He prefers explosives that are triggered by radio control transmitters--the type used for model planes and boats."

"I know," she said, meeting the narrowed probe of his gaze. "He would have to be fairly close to his target to detonate the charge."

"If he did it, he isn't far away." Scott's eyes traveled to a young couple who were obviously from the Middle East. "He could be watching us as we speak. Keep an eye out for anything strange."

She shivered, then cautiously looked around the immediate area. "Let's get moving--we don't have a second to lose." He took her by the arm and headed toward the entrance to the concourse. After working their way through the crowd, they raced to the area where transportation was available for arriving passengers. Jackie cast a glance at the line of taxicabs and limousines while Scott surveyed the crowd.

"I'd like to shoot him on sight," Jackie said with a mixture of pain and bitterness. "We need to find out if there's an A-4 Skyhawk here at DFW, or at any of the other airports in the area."

"You're right," Scott agreed, then stopped dead in his tracks. He was staring at a familiar face, but something was strangely out of kilter. The man was dressed in the uniform of an American Airlines captain, complete with an ID badge and a chart case hanging from his left hand. Farkas saw Dalton at the same instant and stared in disbelief.

"Oh, shit," Scott exclaimed in shock as Jackie whirled around in total surprise. "It's him!"

Farkas drew a handgun from the chart case, then ran twenty yards to a waiting taxi and yanked the front passenger door open. Scott started toward the cab and then shoved Jackie behind a minivan when Farkas fired three shots at them. Two rounds ricocheted off the side of the van inches from Scott's face. The third bullet shattered the windshiel
d
of a Toyota, narrowly missing the startled driver.

After a moment of disbelief, the shocked bystanders began running in every direction as the taxi made a jackrabbit start, then sped off. Scott could see that Farkas had his gun shoved against the driver's head.

"He's getting away," Jackie shouted in frustration. Without hesitating, Dalton raced toward a new Lincoln Town Car that had been temporarily deserted by its frightened owner. The engine was running and the trunk was wide open, waiting to receive a set of luggage stacked neatly on the curb.

"Notify the authorities," Scott yelled to Jackie as he slid behind the wheel and placed the car in gear.

"I'm going with you," she exclaimed as she jumped into the front seat. "We're right on top of him! Go!"

"Hang on!" Scott said as he floored the Lincoln. The car lurched to the left at a forty-five-degree angle and careened off the side of a shiny red Jaguar.

"We're off to a helluva start," Jackie said breathlessly as she hurriedly buckled her seat belt.

"Yeah, that's always a crowd pleaser," he deadpanned. "Next time I steal a car, remind me to point the front wheels in the direction I want to go."

"I'll work on it."

With the headlights on and the windshield wipers flailing, Scott drove with wild abandon through the maze of airport roads. After bouncing off a curb and sliding through a grassy area, they spotted the commandeered taxi in the midst of dozens of flashing lights.

Accelerating on International Parkway, Scott rapidly closed the distance between the Lincoln and the cab. Both cars were dodging law enforcement and emergency vehicles as a steady stream of flashing lights rushed toward the crash site. To Scott's amazement, the police were ignoring the speeding cars. Approaching the curve to Northwest Highway, the taxi began to swerve violently back and forth across the wet parkway.

"They're struggling," Jackie said a moment before the cabdriver's side window exploded into a million glass fragments. "He shot him," Scott shouted above the screaming engine. "Don't get too close!" she warned.

"I'm going to ram him!"

"No."

A few seconds later Farkas shoved the taxi driver out of his car. The mortally wounded man tumbled and flipped like a rag doll.

"Watch out!" Jackie warned.

Scott yanked the wheel to the left, barely missing the driver. The Town Car skidded sideways as Scott fought for control. Once he corrected the slide, he nailed the accelerator and started closing on Farkas.

"Fasten your seat belt," Jackie advised as she gripped the dashboard and braced her other hand against the roof.

"I'm working on it." Scott latched his seat belt, then reached between his back and belt and slid his nine-millimeter Sig Sauer to Jackie. "If we get close enough, shoot him."

As she reached for the handgun, her expression froze into a kind of stiffness. "How did you get this past security?" Scott swerved to avoid a slower-moving car. "Thanks to Hartwell, I have credentials from both the CIA and the FBI." "How convenient," she said as she checked the sidearm. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

"Nothing that comes to mind."

With the trunk lid bouncing up and down, Scott worked hard to stay directly behind Farkas. They were banging fenders with other vehicles as Farkas used the battered taxi to bulldoze his way through traffic. Cars and trucks were sliding off the side of the road as angry drivers mashed their horns, cursed, and shot Farkas and his pursuer the middle-finger salute.

"He thought we were dead," Jackie said through clenched teeth.

"He thought I was dead."

Her throat felt tight as she gripped the Sig Sauer in her right hand. "You could see it in the look on his face."

"No doubt about it." Scott slammed on the brakes, then pressed hard on the accelerator when Farkas's taillights flickered an instant before he swerved to miss an ambulance. "Take a shot when I get closer."

Jackie hit the switch that lowered her window, then grasped the weapon with both hands and leaned out of th
e
car. Deluged by rain and spray, she waited until Scott was less than twenty feet from the cab. Barely able to see through the downpour, she aimed for the back windshield and gently squeezed the trigger.

Boom! Boom!

Two fist-sized holes appeared near the top of the rear windshield as it shattered in an explosion of glass particles. Jackie wiped the water from her eyes and squeezed again. Boom! Boom!

Stunned and cut by the flying fragments of glass, Farkas swerved back and forth while he pointed his weapon rearward and blindly fired every round in his clip.

Two shells went through the Town Car's radiator before three rounds shattered the windshield, blowing the rearview mirror into the backseat and spraying Scott with glass. Jackie yanked her head inside the car. "Are you okay?" "Couldn't be better," he exclaimed, stomping on the accelerator. "Okay, you son of a bitch, it's time to show your hand!"

Consumed by rage, Scott pulled up to the taxi and rammed the trunk on the driver's side. He kept the throttle buried, turning Farkas slightly sideways. "Come on, lose it."

"Be careful," Jackie said as she subconsciously pushed on the floorboard. "We've already cheated death once today." Scott backed off a few feet.

Farkas steered into the slide, then jammed the brake pedal to the floor, causing the Lincoln to smash into the trunk of the taxi. Scott eased back a couple of car lengths seconds before Farkas sideswiped a new Corvette convertible, spinning the sports car completely around.

"Take another shot!"

"Next time I'll drive--you do the shooting!"

Jackie leaned out and fired three quick rounds, hitting the trunk twice and shattering the driver's-side mirror.

"Lucky shot," Scott said lightly as Farkas yanked the car to the right, then back to the left. "That got his attention." She wiped her face and glanced at Scott. "How did Farkas know? Who gave him the information about the flight?"

He darted a look at her. "Who knows?" he answered without hesitation. "An Iranian operative--an agent who follows the Washington scen--"

"Watch it," she shouted as Farkas whipped the taxi to the left to pass a Mayflower moving van. Scott started to follow, then stood on the brakes when he saw that the road was partially blocked ahead. The right front fender of the Town Car clipped the moving van, throwing the car out of control. "Sonuva--" Dalton gasped as they tried to brace themselves before the car flipped over and slid on its roof, popping the shattered windshield out. There was a wrenching tear of metal while the pavement ground away the roof. When the crashing, crunching noise finally stopped, it was a dazed few moments before Jackie and Scott realized they were alive and in one piece.

"Get out!" Scott said as he detected the odor of gasoline. "We're leaking fuel--get out! Now!"

Terror overcame her as she tugged frantically at the seat belt buckle. She saw flashing lights and heard voices coming closer as Scott released her buckle. Then she recoiled when she saw the first reddish-yellow flame dart from beneath the smashed hood. She heard a muffled sound a second before the small fire blossomed into a roaring inferno.

"Let's go!" Scott said as he kicked out a backseat window. He pulled Jackie partially through the jagged opening before she got a foothold and pushed herself clear of the burning wreckage. They scrambled away from the blazing car, then stumbled across the road before the Lincoln exploded in a massive fireball. Amid the confusion and chaos of the moment, Khaliq Farkas had disappeared in a sea of flashing lights and emergency vehicles.

Wet, muddy, and shaking, Jackie gave Scott a troubled look and shook her head. "You need some driving lessons." He looked at her smudged face and glanced at the burning car. "Well, I just happen to know a woman who is an expert instructor in high-speed evasive driving."

She forced a weak smile. "I was thinking you might want to begin at a demolition derby, and work your way up." "Hey, even Richard Petty had off days."

Jackie started to respond, then paused when she caught sight of the multitude of police officers approaching them. "I suppose you'd like to handle this situation."

"Sure," he said with a confident smile, then reached for his credentials. "This is going to cause a mountain of paperwork."

Chapter
13

The White House
.

The shocking news from the attorney general about the sighting of !Chang Farkas in Wyoming had been the central topic of conversation during the working dinner. The decision to keep the frightening discovery as understated as possible was unanimous. No one wanted to stir the media into a feeding frenzy, causing a nationwide panic.

The military services, Coast Guard, and several government agencies, including the CIA's Counterterrorist Center, the CIA's newly opened Global Response Center, the Secret Service, and the Federal Aviation Administration had been informed about the threat posed by Farkas and his A-4 Sky-hawk. While hundreds of airport managers and fixed-based operators were being alerted, scores of aircraft were already searching for the camouflaged blue-and-gray attack aircraft.

After dinner and dessert, President Macklin and his advisers returned to the White House Situation Room. When everyone was comfortably seated around the expansive table, Hartwell Prost cautiously confronted the chief executive.