The crack she heard was at once frightening and satisfying. The man collapsed into the sand. Renee tried not to think about whether she might have killed him. She just moved on.
But during the swing, she had become disoriented. When she looked up, she was no longer sure which of the dark figures before her was the other Russian.
All three of them had been pelted by the pepper spray bullets, she realized. Unsure of what to do, she looked back to where she had dropped the pepper spray gun. There. She snatched it up from the ground and listened, trying to discern who was who.
Max, blinded and in pain from just being near the pepper spray bursts, ran away toward the beach. He tripped several times, falling into the sand and beach grass.
“Max!” Renee shouted as loudly as she dared.
Max felt his feet enter the surf. He knelt down and splashed saltwater up into his face. It helped. The pain subsided as he kept washing the saltwater in and around his eyes.
“Max.” He could feel her holding on to his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“What the hell was that stuff?”
“It’s a self-defense gun. Pepper spray and mace.”
“God, it stings. Why didn’t you bring a real gun?”
“I don’t like guns. I told you.”
“Holy shit, Renee. This hurts. Next time just shoot me with a real gun.”
“Men are so ungrateful.”
Max squinted up at the dunes. Between his blurred vision and how dark it was outside, he could barely see a thing. “Where are they?”
“They’re still up there, but I hit one pretty hard with this field hockey stick,” Renee said. “Here. Hold the stick and come on. We should get to my car before they make it back to the parking lot.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Look.”
A set of headlights was visible in the parking lot. Renee cursed.
“You think it’s more of them?” Over the sound of the waves, they could hear car doors opening and closing. Anxious shouting in Russian.
“Come on. We’re not going to be able to go back to your car. Let’s jog. This way.”
They ran away from the parking lot, south along the beach. It took about five minutes for the Russians to get smart and start driving along the beach in their SUVs. With the headlights on, it was easy for Max and Renee to see them coming. But that also meant that there weren’t many good hiding places.
“It’s into the brush or into the water, which one?”
Renee said, “I…”
“Water, then.” Max pulled her arm. They waded into the ocean. The waves were only a foot or two. When they got neck-deep, Max began to second-guess his choice of hiding in the water. He wondered if they would have night vision. Or infrared. Dammit.
They were pretty far out. “Alright, let’s hold our breath and try to stay under for a bit, until they drive by.”
Both Max and Renee took a deep breath and went under. Thank God the sea was warm. Max hated cold water. He went up for air about thirty seconds later, and then went back down underneath. He had gotten a glimpse of the SUV, motoring along the beach at five miles per hour.
Max tried to think about their options. A1A was the main highway that ran north-south, parallel to the beach. Anyone with common sense would have headed for the road. But the Russians would know that. So they would keep one team at the beach, searching for him, the other team patrolling the road, waiting for Max and Renee to pop up.
When they came up for air again, he said to Renee, “I say we keep heading south along the beach. It’ll be a few miles, but we’ll get to the end of Talbot Island. Then we can swim across the inlet. We’ll end up at Huguenot Park, right across from Mayport.”
“Then what?”
“Then we’ll be far enough away from them that we can go try and find a ride,” Max said.
“How far is that?”
“A few miles.”
“It sounds like it’s going to take us all night. It’s already three a.m. The Fend 100 flight launches at seven. Do you have a phone?”
“Of course not. Don’t you?”
“I’m sorry — I needed to carry a few things to rescue you.”
They waded back towards the beach and walked along the shore. She was right. This was going to take all night. But he didn’t see what choice he had.
Flynn was in his hotel room, fielding calls from Washington and scanning the news about the Fend 100. Many aviation news sources were calling it the dawn of a new era in automated flight.
But the big story that most people cared about was the human element. The Washington Post was the first to the punch. They had a source saying that Max Fend was under investigation for a cyberattack on Fend Aerospace. The news channels had fallen all over themselves when they’d heard about it. Even Flynn had to admit that it was a great story. On the eve of one of the biggest moments in aviation history, Max Fend attempts to sabotage his own father’s achievement.
The FBI sent out a press release shortly after. Now, they were talking just as much about him, but proclaiming his newfound innocence.
BILLIONAIRE PLAYBOY NOT A SUSPECT, SAYS FEDS
Wonderful. Flynn was reading one such article when he heard the knock at his door.
He looked through the peephole and saw Wilkes staring back at him, still wearing a suit and tie. Flynn checked his watch. It was close to midnight.
Flynn removed the chain. “Come on in.”
“Sorry to disturb you, but I thought you’d want me to fill you in.”
“Of course. Excuse the clutter.” Flynn tried to clean up the remnants of his room service. A twenty-three-dollar burger and fries. Pretty good, but you could get a lot better at Five Guys for a lot less.
The two men sat down. “What’s up?” said Flynn.
“We have a problem. Max Fend has gone missing.”
“Missing?”
“I told you he might be in contact with a foreign agent,” Wilkes said.
“Yes.”
“Well, he made contact earlier this evening, and now he’s off the grid. I’m worried. I may need your help.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I need backup plans in case this thing goes sideways,” Wilkes said. “I think the FBI might be best equipped to respond.”
“Caleb, just say what you need.”
“How soon could you get HRT down here?”
The FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team is one of the premier counterterrorism units in the world. Made up mostly of ex-special operations personnel, they function as the elite national tactical response unit for the FBI. Based in Quantico, Virginia, HRT has over one hundred operators assigned to its team.
HRT operators conduct training with many of the other Tier One special forces units in the United States military, including the Army’s Delta Force and the Navy’s DEVGRU — commonly known as SEAL Team Six.
HRT trains in maritime and airborne assault techniques, and also has its own sniper teams and regularly responds to the most dangerous incidents around the world.
Because they need to be ready to go at a moment’s notice, HRT always rotates its members on a deployable watch bill. They are required to be on base and ready to deploy within thirty minutes of being called.
Twenty of them got the call tonight.
Within an hour, all twenty men were on a plane to Florida. An hour after that, two US Air Force transport aircraft flew to the same destination. Those aircraft contained members and equipment of the Tactical Helicopter Unit. These were the HRT’s elite aviators. Helicopter pilots and aircrew who trained and operated with the HRT and were ready for anything.