June 5>th, 1:15 a.m.
Fairfax County, Virginia – Suburbs of Washington, DC
The phone rang.
Luke Stone lay somewhere between asleep and awake. Images flashed in his mind. It was night on an empty rain-swept highway. Someone was injured. A car wreck. In the distance, an ambulance approached, moving fast. The siren wailed.
He opened his eyes. Next to him on the bed table, in the dark of their bedroom, the phone was ringing. A digital clock sat on the table next to the phone. He glanced at its red numbers.
“Jesus,” he whispered. He had been asleep for maybe half an hour.
His wife Rebecca’s voice, thick with sleep: “Don’t answer it.”
A tuft of her blonde hair poked out from under the blankets. Soft blue light filtered into the room from a nightlight in the bathroom.
He picked up the phone.
“Luke,” a voice said. The voice was deep and gruff, with the slightest hint of a Southern twang. Luke knew the voice all too well. It was Don Morris, his old boss at the Special Response Team.
Luke ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah?”
“Did I wake you?” Don said.
“What do you think?”
“I wouldn’t have called you at home. But your cell phone was off.”
Luke grunted. “That’s because I turned it off.”
“We got trouble, Luke. I need you on this one.”
“Tell me,” Luke said.
He listened as the voice spoke. Soon, he had that feeling he used to get – the feeling that his stomach was in an elevator rapidly descending fifty stories. Perhaps this was why he had quit the job. Not because of too many close calls, not because his son was growing up so fast, but because he didn’t like this feeling in his stomach.
It was the knowing that made him sick. The knowing was too much. He thought of the millions of people out there, living their happy lives, blissfully unaware of what was going on. Luke envied them their ignorance.
“When did it happen?” he said.
“We don’t know anything yet. An hour ago, maybe two. The hospital noticed the security breach about fifteen minutes ago. They have employees unaccounted for, so right now it looks like an inside job. That could change as better intel comes in. The NYPD has gone nuts, for obvious reasons. They called in two thousand extra cops, and from where I sit, it’s not going to be nearly enough. Most of them won’t even get in until the shift change.”
“Who called NYPD?” Luke said.
“The hospital.”
“Who called us?”
“The Chief of Police.”
“He call anybody else?”
“No. We’re it.”
Luke nodded.
“Okay, good. Let’s keep it that way. The cops need to lock down the crime scene and secure it. But they need to stay outside the perimeter. We don’t want them stepping on it. They also need to keep this away from the media. If the newspapers get it, it’s going to be a circus.”
“Done and done.”
Luke sighed. “Assume a two-hour head start. That’s bad. They’re way out ahead of us. They could be anywhere.”
“I know. NYPD is watching the bridges, the tunnels, the subways, the commuter rails. They’re looking at highway tollbooth data, but it’s a needle in a haystack. No one has the manpower to deal with this.”
“When are you going up there?” Luke said.
Don didn’t hesitate. “Now. And you’re coming with me.”
Luke looked at the clock again. 1:23.
“I can be at the chopper pad in half an hour.”
“I already sent a car,” Don said. “The driver just called in. He’ll be at your place in ten minutes.”
Luke placed the receiver back in its cradle.
Rebecca was half awake, her head propped up on one elbow, staring at him. Her hair was long, flowing down her shoulders. Her eyes were blue, framed in thick eyelashes. Her pretty face was thinner than when they first met in college. The intervening years had lined it with care and worry.