Читать книгу Colby Justice - Debra Webb - Страница 8

Temporary Command Center, 9:40 a.m.

Jim Colby held his breath as the two glowing forms on the scanner moved swiftly down the stairwell to the third floor…then the second.

“Damn it,” he growled. “They must have seen the heat trace.” Which could only mean that the enemy had a thermal scanner, as well.

“Don’t move, Steele,” Ian ordered.

Jim glared at him. “What the hell are you doing? They have to get out of there.” As Victoria’s son, Jim had thought he’d made himself clear twenty-four hours ago. He was in charge.

“Anything they do now,” Ian Michaels said, in that too-calm voice, “could result in their being captured. Until we’re absolutely certain their presence has been detected making a move that will certainly announce their presence would be a mistake.”

Neither Simon Ruhl nor Lucas Camp said a word, their silence shouting loudly and clearly that they were with Ian on this one.

Jim planted his hands on his hips and turned away from the screen tracking the movements of the enemy…growing closer and closer to the only hope for the rescue of Victoria. Jim’s gaze landed on Leland Rockford. Rocky was the only other member of his team here. He, too, kept quiet.

Maybe this was too close for Jim. Maybe he couldn’t keep emotion out of the scenario. God knows he’d never had that problem before.

Fear tightened in his throat. He’d allowed that thin line to stand too long. He had permitted Victoria, his mother, to give far more than he ever allowed himself to grant. Last year’s attempt on his daughter had set off long-buried emotional ripples deep inside him. Those ripples were still evoking changes in him—changes he wasn’t fully able to control.

Changes he should have allowed long ago.

“We’ve got company at the front entrance,” Ted Tallant called out from his position at the window. “White, nondescript panel van. Tinted windows, no way to tell how many occupants.”

Jim moved to the window, as did the others, except for Rocky, to observe the arrival of the van. Two men, dressed completely in black including ski masks. The two were likely part of the team Jim had seen when he’d attempted to bargain for the release of his mother.

“I believe it’s safe to assume that those are the two from the stairwell.”

“That could mean they don’t have a thermal scanner or didn’t catch the blip we did.” Jim’s knees threatened to buckle with relief. If Steele and Alexander were caught… Jim’s mother would likely be the first victim of retaliation.

Jim could not let that happen.

He should have gone in himself.

But he did not possess the lean body frame necessary for the infiltration.

Guilt and frustration gnawed at him.

Ian relayed the update to Steele and Alexander.

All in the room relaxed marginally.

They were still in the clear.

For now.

At the front entrance of the building across the street, two men from the van handed off rectangular boxes to the two men in black. Six boxes total. The boxes were stacked in the lobby by the members of the enemy’s team, then the van drove away and the entry doors to the building were locked once more.

“More case files,” Tallant explained as he peered through his binoculars to read whatever lettering was stamped on the boxes.

“Probably the files on the Reginald Clark case,” Lucas surmised. “Or the personal ones belonging to Gordon. Those disappeared from the county’s official storage facility, as we know.”

Less than twenty-four hours ago, Slade Convoy, posing as an official courier for Cook County, had picked up six boxes of files from former District Attorney Gordon’s personal residence and transported them to the county storage facilities. They had learned mere hours later that the boxes had been given to Gordon’s head of security.

Evidently Thorp was aware that Gordon’s personal work files contained evidence he would need to carry out his mock trial.

Reginald Clark, The Prince, was the reason all of this was going down. How the hell could the justice system let criminals like him continue to escape punishment? Jim knew the answer…because of equally filthy scum like Gordon. Only, in Jim’s opinion, Gordon was far worse. He had been entrusted with a position of power—one that was supposed to protect the citizens. Instead, he used that power for personal gain with no care as to the protection of those under his jurisdiction.

Ian and Simon moved back to the screens providing their meager view into the building. Tallant resumed his monitoring of the front of the building.

“Jim.”

He turned to face Lucas, too preoccupied with ending this to wonder what his stepfather might have on his mind at this point.

Wise gray eyes searched Jim’s. “You’re tired. You haven’t slept in more than twenty-four hours. Why don’t you take a break? I’ll stay on top of things here. If anything at all changes, I’ll let you know.”

Jim forced air into his lungs, reminded himself that Lucas was only concerned for his welfare. “You haven’t had any sleep yourself,” he reminded his mother’s longtime friend and husband. A man who had been his father’s closest friend…a man who had helped Jim to survive emerging from the depths of sheer hell. Another person in Jim’s life to whom he had failed to show proper gratitude.

“That’s true.” Lucas smiled sadly. “But, truth is, I can’t close my eyes for more than a second…that second could be the one that would have made a difference.”

Jim summoned a similarly miserable smile. “How about some coffee?”

“I do believe we’re in the right place to see to that request.”