The Defiant Hero Read Online Free PDF Page B

swear, it’s not even five minutes before he locks the door to his office and—”

    Jazz gave him a silencing look as Lieutenant Paoletti shut his phone with a snap and approached them.

    “Problem, sir?” Wolchonok asked.

    “That day off’s going to have to wait,” the CO announced. “That was Admiral Crowley on the phone. He wanted to know if I knew where Lt. John Nilsson was.”

    Oh, shit. Nils had always thought of Crowley as one of the good guys. The admiral was a SEAL himself. If he was pissed about this . . .

    “We’ve got to move,” the CO continued. He was talking to Jazz and Wolchonok now, but the rest of the team had stopped to listen, too. “The entire team’s going wheels up ASAP. We’ve been ordered to provide assistance to an FBI counter-terrorist team in DC. There’s a hostage situation in the Kazbekistani embassy.” He turned and looked at Nils. “And the hostage taker will only negotiate with Johnny Nilsson.”

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Three

    MEG HELDON tightly to her gun as she stared across the men’s room at Osman Razeen.

    All three of her hostages sat on the floor, their hands carefully on their knees. But only Razeen’s eyes were open. He stared back at her, watching her as intently as she watched him.

    Did he know why she was here? Could he tell just by looking into her eyes that she would kill him, ruthlessly, if she had to? Did he even suspect that she might well be his assigned executioner?

    It had been ten hours since she’d sent the fat man out of the room, and there was only silence in the hall outside. Ten hours—and she was completely exhausted. Who would’ve guessed sitting on a bathroom floor could be so completely draining?

    It was definitely time to check in.

    Ten hours was plenty of time for the FBI or the Mission: Impossible team or whoever the heck was out there to rig their miniature cameras and high-powered microphones, running them into this room through the air vents, or up through the plumbing in the sinks and—why not?—even the toilets.

    Meg cleared her throat and spoke for the first time in all those hours. “I want to know if Ens. John Nilsson has been contacted.”

    The two other hostages opened their eyes. They glanced at each other, and one of them opened his mouth to speak.

    Meg cut him off. “I wasn’t talking to you.” She raised her voice only slightly. “I know you can hear me. I’d like my question answered, please.”

    From the bottom of her handbag, her cell phone rang.

    She’d imagined them yelling the answers to her questions right through the closed bathroom door. She’d feel right at home—that was one of Amy’s favorite forms of communication.

    Oh, God, she wanted Amy.

    She let the phone ring until she was sure she could answer it without her voice wavering. She couldn’t sound weak. She couldn’t let them think they could just walk in here and take the gun away from her.

    Even if that was the truth.

    Taking a deep breath and holding the gun with her right hand, she reached into her bag with her left, her eyes never leaving her hostages. She flipped the phone open.

    “Guess you figured out who I am, huh?” She tried her best to sound flip, casual. As if she were a hardened terrorist who’d taken hostages a dozen, no, a hundred times before.

    “Ms. Moore, my name is Max Bhagat and I’m—”

    “Has John Nilsson been found?” All those relentless sales calls from AT&T and MCI were finally paying off. After years of practice, Meg didn’t even feel compelled to wait until he took a breath before she cut him off.

    “Ms. Moore, it would help a great deal if we knew—”

    Meg hung up the phone. She couldn’t talk to him. She couldn’t listen. Max Bhagat was an FBI negotiator. A professional. He had to be. And she couldn’t afford to let him distract or confuse her. It had to be John she spoke to. Only John.

    The phone rang again, and she