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“He needs you.”
She followed her brother back into the house and then went straight downstairs. The door was open, and she could see Monk looking at computer monitors, but she knocked anyway.
“Saylor,” he said, turning around and holding out his hand.
“Razor told me to come down. He told me about the plane.”
Monk pulled her onto his lap and rested his head against her. She could feel his body shake and the dampness of his tears on her shirt.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Monk held her tighter, but didn’t say anything.
He raised his head and spun around with her still in his lap when the monitors started beeping loudly.
“Go get your brother,” he said. “Tell him we got a ping.”
“From the plane?”
“Yes. Go!”
Saylor ran up the stairs and found her brother where he’d been before in the kitchen.
“Monk said to tell you he got a ping.”
Razor dropped the knife and fork, and ran from the kitchen.
—:—
“Where is it?” Razor shouted as he ran into the office.
“Coordinates indicate Macuira National Park. There’s a team headed there now, but with the storm, I don’t know if they’ll be able to reach it.”
“Any audio?”
“Negative. Let Striker know.”
Razor nodded and left the room.
This was Striker’s op, but there was no way in hell Monk would leave this room himself to give him the update. If anything at all came through from the plane, he didn’t want to miss it.
“Anything?” Razor asked when he came back downstairs.
“DEA have the coordinates of the plane. No one has gotten close yet due to the storm combined with the terrain,” Monk answered.
When
Striker, Doc, and Mercer came in, Razor reiterated what Monk had said.
“How soon can Cope arrange transport?” Striker asked Doc.
“Do we know if we can even fly yet? What’s the status of the hurricane?” Razor asked.
“Planes and crew are on standby at LAX. I’ve been told they’re cleared to fly.” Doc looked at Monk.
“That’s correct.”
“There’s a CH-53K out of Vandenberg that can get us to LAX in under an hour,” added Mercer.
