Page 149 of The Deadly Shallows

The copilot opened the door. “Agent Rowley, I take it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please, come in. There’s someone on the line for you.”

The pilot greeted him and handed him a set of headphones. “Agent Rowley. Go ahead, please.”

“It’s Caleb.”

His chest constricted, making breathing laborious. “What’s wrong?”

Please don’t let it be that anyone died in the raid. Please, Lord.

“It’s bad,” Caleb said, getting straight to it. “The weapon was finished, and it’s gone. No Dwayne or Frank either.” Caleb sighed. “They’re heading to Leavenworth.”

The lunatic was going to try to use a laser weapon to break his son out of prison? Was he crazy? Didn’t he realize he was more likely to kill his son in the explosion?

“Warn them immediately,” he said, careful with his choice of words with others present.

“Already done,” Caleb said.

“Any idea how much of a head start they have?” he asked.

“No, but we found a hangar disguised as a barn and a dirt runway in the midst of the back fields.”

“They have their own plane?” That meant . . .

A Marine helicopter waited for Noah and Brooke when they touched down. It would be faster than a rental car.

“Thanks for the lift,” Noah said. “I’m Noah Rowley, and this is Brooke Kesler.”

“George, and no problem. I hear your team warned Leavenworth.”

Noah clamped his hand on the dash, leaning forward as if he could will himself there faster. “I just pray we’re not too late.”

Fifteen minutes later, Noah looked down in horror.

The Castle, the barracks’ unofficial name, was on fire. Smoke rose in gray billows as red lights swirled in a mass of chaos below.

“Hang on tight,” George said. “We’ve got snow mixed with ice—black ice from the looks of the landing helipad. Make sure you’re both all buckled up.”

Noah reached back and clasped Brooke’s hand.

Thankfully, George was a stellar pilot. He wasn’t exaggerating about the wintry mix, but he touched down without issue.

“Thanks, George,” Noah said as he and Brooke rushed out of the copter.

“Godspeed,” George called after them.

Noah pulled his phone from his pocket as they raced toward the roaring fire. How many had the madman killed? He glanced at his phone. “The disciplinary barracks are located one klick north and two klicks east from the top edge of the helipad.”

Brooke nodded as the snow crunched beneath their shoes and fat snowflakes tumbled from the sky.

About a hundred yards out from the barracks, the stench of smoke filled the air. They crested the slope, and the enormity of the devastation greeted them. The center of the state-of-the-art prison was gone, and a bright orange glow, like the tip of an inhaled cigar, rose and sparked in its place.

Fire teams were battling against the heat to douse the flames with water. Ash rained down with the intensifying snowflakes, making long-range sight nigh impossible.

Red lights swirled about them as the piercing base alarm pealed.