24 Hours

“Not quite, no. We have special entry devices. Heat sensors and video to accurately place human bodies in the structure. They’ll use special stun grenades to incapacitate the tango, then-”

“Tango?” Will interrupted.

“Sorry, that’s radio slang for terrorists. These guys train to rescue hostages from terrorists.”

“Can’t you try to talk him out?”

Chalmers smiled patiently. “We could do that. But it’s our understanding that the man holding Abby is mentally handicapped. The leader is still loose. He could call this Huey at any time and order him to kill your daughter.”

Will felt as though he and Abby were standing in the path of a truck and couldn’t move. “Can’t Ferris shut off Huey’s phone?”

“Yes, but that might panic him. Or he might be under orders to kill your daughter if his communications are cut off. Right now-while Huey and Abby are isolated from the leader-we have a golden opportunity to go in. Before the situation deteriorates any further.”

After a night spent in ignorance, Will was having difficulty processing the sudden influx of information. “I still don’t understand how you got here. How you knew it would be this bank.”

“We didn’t. We put an agent in every bank of any size in Gulfport and Biloxi. I requested this one because it was the largest. I flew down early this morning. The minute your wire came in, I contacted my Special Agent-in-Charge in Jackson. His name’s Frank Zwick. And he wants to talk to you.”

“Is he in contact with the SWAT team?”

“Yes.”

“Please call him. And there’s a woman outside in my rental car. One of the kidnappers.”

Chalmers nodded. “Cheryl Lynn Tilly. We’ll leave her alone until the team hits the cabin. If she gets suspicious and comes inside, you can tell her there’s some delay with paperwork. We have more agents converging on the bank right now, but they’ll be discreet coming in.”

“I can’t believe all this.”

The FBI agent smiled. “In a few minutes, your daughter will be in FBI custody, Doctor.”

Will was afraid to let himself believe it.

“You did well getting Harley Ferris involved. I only wish you would have called us earlier. Trusted us.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I understand.” Chalmers got up and went to Moore’s desk. The bank’s vice president looked as though he didn’t quite believe what was happening before his eyes. “Would you excuse us, Mr. Moore?”

“Of course.” The banker made a hasty exit.

Chalmers dialed a number on Moore’s phone.

“The leader’s name is Hickey,” Will said. “Joe Hickey. He has my wife with him, and he’s one clever son of a bitch. Do you know where they are now?”

“Driving toward Jackson International Airport.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. They’re not going anywhere. We’re watching them from a helicopter, and we’ve got men in the airport. Hang on.” Chalmers spoke into the phone. “Chalmers here. I’ve got Dr. Jennings with me…He’s on board with us…Yes, sir. Any word on the little girl?” Chalmers gave Will a thumbs-up.

“I want to talk to him,” Will said, standing.

“I’ll tell him,” Chalmers said, and hung up. “The SAC has a lot on his plate right now, Doctor.”

“What’s happening?”

“SWAT found the cabin.”

“The green pickup truck?”

“It’s parked under the trees.”

Will closed his eyes and began to pray.

Eight FBI agents in camouflage ninja fatigues and black headgear crept silently through the trees toward the cabin, their Heckler and Koch submachine guns tight against their bodies. A ninth agent was already under the structure, scanning the small floor plan with a supersensitive microphone and headphones. Their leader was Special Agent Martin Cody, and Cody was in radio contact with the agent under the house.

“Got anything?” he said into the microphone mounted inside his ballistic glass face mask.

“Not yet.” Special Agent Sims Jackson was observing the cabin through a thermal imaging camera. “Nothing but a hot water heater.”

Cody didn’t like that. The truck was there, but the people weren’t? Was there a root cellar of some kind? Could the tango have detected their approach and fled into the woods? It would be tough carrying a five-year-old girl, but Cody had been told the man was big. He could also have killed the little girl and fled alone, but even if she’d been dead a couple of hours, there should still be enough heat in the corpse to register on the thermal imaging device.

“Cody to tracing van,” he said into his mike. The CellStar van was seventy yards back up the logging road. “Has the cell phone moved?”

“Negative. Still in the same position.”

“We’re going in,” Cody said into his mike. “Prepare for explosive entry. Stun grenades through the windows, ram on the front door. It looks thin as paper, but you never know.”

A staccato burst of mike clicks answered him.

“Shoot high,” Cody reminded them, though they knew the drill already. “This kid probably isn’t much over three feet, which is a good break. Okay… deploy.”