Patriot by M.A. Rothman (summer reading list TXT) 📗

and going on a daily basis, but one hugging the road at almost arm’s reach was uncommon. Especially a helicopter loaded up for war.

She caught her first glimpse of the truck just as they passed over 495. Its dirty gray trailer was plain and unmarked. “I got it. Center lane, about a mile ahead.”

“That’s it,” Brice said.

“I see it too,” the pilot confirmed.

“Now comes the hard part,” she muttered.

“What’s that?”

“How the hell do I stop him?”

“Can’t you just shoot him in the head?”

Annie laughed. “Yeah, I could do that, but what if he’s got a dead man’s switch connected to the bomb? Then we’re all screwed. It’s the same reason we can’t just have this hover bird just take out the cabin. No, I’m going to need to disarm it or disable it somehow. You got a How to Defuse a Nuclear Bomb for Dummies lying around somewhere?”

“Uhhh, no, I must have misplaced my copy. But if you can get me eyes on, I should be able to come up with something. I’ve studied the design of that bomb, but I assume they’ve put together a new assembly and triggering mechanism. So I’ll need to see what Hakimi’s guys did to it.”

“Get eyes on?” Annie asked. “It’s in the back of a damn tractor-trailer. I’ve got to get inside it first.”

“There’s a kit under your seat. You should be able to find everything you need in there.”

Annie pulled the case from under her and opened the lid. Inside was a rope, a tool kit, and a hand torch. “You think this little torch will be strong enough to cut through?” she asked.

“Trust me, it’ll work. And be sure to take the tool kit, too. We’ll need it.”

She tucked the kit and the torch inside her jacket, grabbed the coil of rope, and closed the case. “Where the hell is the rookie for all of this? It really should be him doing this crap.”

“He’s got his hands full at the moment.”

“Right.” She moved to the door, pulling on gloves, then hesitated, her fingers around the handle, looking out at the closing semi. “This is a horrible idea.”

A torrent of wind blasted her as she pulled open the door.

“What the hell are you doing?” the pilot shouted, looking back over his shoulder.

She leaned out of the side of the chopper, the downdraft from the rotors roaring in her ears. “Get me lower. Right above the truck.”

“Are you crazy?”

I’m not, Annie thought as the trailer grew closer, but the Black Widow is.

She tied one end of the rope to the anchor mounted to the fuselage above the doorway, yanking hard to ensure it would hold. The semi was now only about twenty feet below them, and it felt like they were flying along at mach nine.

Annie put her legs over the side and scooted up to the edge, holding tightly to the rope. “This is so stupid.”

She shuffled forward out of the chopper and swung free, the rope whipping around below her. Her arms burned as she worked her way down the rope, not wanting to slide for fear of burning through her gloves and destroying her palms. She’d seen that happen before, and she was terrified of something damaging her hands. Her hands were her tools.

She swayed in the air, looking back at the traffic slowing down behind them. The chopper was hovering steadily, and the noise of the rotors wasn’t nearly as loud as she expected. Maybe some kind of stealth mode this Black Hawk employed she didn’t know anything about.

She tried to focus. She needed to get down quickly, before Hakimi realized what was happening. With her eyes locked on the trailer, she mentally calculated her sway, distance from the trailer, and rate of descent.

She swung out too far, then back again.

It wouldn’t do any good to yell at the pilot. He wouldn’t be able to hear her anyway.

She swung back again and descended hand over hand until she was about six feet off the trailer. Then she let go.

Pain shot up her legs to her hips and shoulder as she rolled along the top of the trailer. She put out a hand, stopping herself, and waved the chopper away.

“I’m down,” she told Brice.

Then she pulled out her torch and went to work.

Chapter Forty-Three

“She did what?” Connor said, eyes wide.

“She jumped onto the trailer,” Thompson repeated, shaking his head.

“By herself?”

“That’s pretty much how she operates.”

“She’s crazy.”

Thompson lifted his hands, palms up. “Have you not figured that out by now?”

Connor looked out at the miles of forest going by below them in a blur of green, trying to ignore the thrumming of the Black Hawk’s engines around him. He didn’t know Annie that well, but she was definitely capable.

“Hey, Thompson,” the pilot said, pointing. “Twelve o’clock, on the horizon.”

Connor and Thompson both looked forward. The US Mint at West Point sat at the base of a ski slope, right behind the lodge, and right now three columns of smoke rose into the air beyond the tree-covered summit in front of them.

Connor remembered something Annie had mentioned about Wagner’s phone conversations. “Look,” he said, pointing out of the left-side window to the golf course below. “Wagner talked about golfing.”

Thompson gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t think that’s just a coincidence?”

“Do you?”

Thompson hesitated, then shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

As they came over the summit and got their first view of the West Point Mint complex, everything that had happened over the last week and a half suddenly made total and complete sense.

“It was never about the bombs,” Connor said. “At least not for Wagner.”

“What?” Thompson asked, frowning.

Connor pointed to the columns of smoke. “It was never about the bombs. It was all a ruse. They’re stealing the money.”

“That’s impossible.”

Connor shook his head. “I’m telling you, it’s not. It was a shell game. Look at this hand while the other hides the ball. Everyone’s eyes are on New York right now, all convinced there’s going to be another massive attack,