Page 129 of Nothing to Fear

“This is Jeff Pratt with—”

“Do you have a visual on an EC155?” Gideon asked, adding in the tail number.

“Yes, sir,” Jeff said over comms. “It’s headed due east.”

“Track it. Don’t lose it. No matter what.”

“Are you certain you want me to leave the area, sir?”

Was this dipshit listening? “Yes! Yes. Follow the helicopter. If it lands, the passenger is the priority. Don’t lose the passenger.”

“Sir, please be advised, there is no passenger.”

Gideon’s heart squeezed, the air in his lungs stalled. “What do you mean?”

There had to be a passenger. Daedalus went to the roof and got on that chopper. He must have. There was no other way out of the building for him besides going through the rest of Gideon’s team.

Did Daedalus turn into fucking Houdini?

“A man wearing a suit boarded the helicopter on the roof, but the chopper set down in front of the building and let him out. He’s in a car headed south. Do you still want me to track the helo? Over.”

Daedalus had expected them to track the helicopter. The range on that detonator wasn’t infinite. A few miles out, Daedalus must have anticipated Gideon would flip the switch on the jammer, their guys would end the firestorm, and they’d seek support to locate the helo.

Of course, Daedalus decided to do what wasn’t obvious and not be on it, so their team would be chasing their own tail.

Only Gideon had the foresight to already have eyes in the sky.

He grabbed the RPG and raced around to the other side of the building in a running hop, dragging his leg. He spotted the SUV, tearing down a road, leaving a dust trail behind it.

Gideon lowered to a knee, propped the tube on his shoulder, and lined up the crosshairs on the vehicle. “I’ve got you now, slippery bastard.”

“Sir, are you talking to me?” Jeff asked.

“No, but I’m sorry for calling you a dipshit in my head.” Gideon tightened his grip on the tube and applied smooth pressure to the trigger.

A roaring whoosh erupted, and the projectile launched in a blaze of fiery light. The rocket streaked toward the SUV, ripping through the air with a whizzing sound.

He held his breath, every muscle clenched tight as a bowstring.

Direct contact. The car jumped into the air as it exploded into flames. The SUV went up in a fireball that flipped and dropped to the ground.

Nothing had survived that.

No open casket for you either, asshole.

46

Near the Potomac River, Northern Virginia

Monday, July 8, 7:25 p.m. EDT

Gideon got up from the ground. Dizziness waylaid him, and the world spun for a second. Once the ground stopped seesawing, he began hobbling back around the building.

“Thanks, Jeff. Track the helicopter. We want the pilot too.” None of Daedalus’s employees were going to escape scot-free.

“Roger that, sir.”

Gideon switched comms channels and reached the bathroom window. “Laurel!”