31
THE ROTORS CREATED A CYCLONE OF SNOW and ice pellets. Out of it materialized a man dressed in a black Nomex tactical suit and boots that looked like they meant business. Grit and Determination could have been his middle names. He marched toward Begley and Wise, who were standing on the Fighting Cougars’ sideline at the thirty-yard line.
“Good morning, sir,” he said to Begley, shouting over the helicopter’s noise.
“Collier,” Begley said, shaking hands with him.
Hoot knew Collier by reputation. He was a respected agent who’d undergone hostage rescue and tactical training at Quantico last year. It was rumored he’d applied for the Critical Incident Response Group. Only the best and baddest of the badasses got selected for the elite CIRG.
“Do you know Agent Wise?”
“Only by sight.”
Hoot’s hand was clasped by one wearing a black leather rappelling glove with the fingers cut out to facilitate trigger pulling. It was the closest Hoot had ever come to such an article of clothing.
“Special Agent Wise has maps and topographical charts of the peak,” Begley told him.
“Thanks, sir. We’ve brought our own, too.”
“How many onboard?”
“Two men from my team plus the pilot. He’s one of ours.”
The Bell helicopter belonged to the Charlotte PD. They’d used it before, and Begley liked it. It was fast, maneuverable, safe. He knew it was a seven-place chopper, counting the pilot. He did the math. If they picked up Lilly Martin and Tierney, there wouldn’t be enough space for everyone on the return trip. Somebody would be left for later pickup. But it would be such a short trip, he didn’t see a problem with that.
Collier said, “I understand the mission is to pick up a female civilian and one hostile?”
“We don’t know that he’s a hostile. Right now this is a rescue mission only. We’ll see what happens when we get there.”
“We?”
“Hoot and I are going.”
“No need, sir. We can communicate—”
“Negative,” Begley said even before he’d finished. “We’re going.”
Everyone in the bureau knew you didn’t argue with an SAC, who would assume jurisdiction and command, requisition helicopters and recruit assistance from other agencies, and do whatever was necessary to complete a mission successfully and safely, answering only to headquarters if it failed.
Collier looked at their overcoats and dress loafers. “We didn’t bring any extra gear.”
“We’ll go as we are.”
“It’s freezing, sir.”
“And we’re wasting time.” Begley fixed him with a nutcracker, and Collier, for all his badassness, caved.
“Right, sir, but be aware. These wind currents are tricky. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Sidestepping Collier, Begley strode toward the helicopter. Hoot and Collier followed at a trot. Collier glanced over at Hoot, sizing him up and obviously finding him lacking. “I didn’t know you’d had any training.”
“For what?”
“This kind of mission.”
“I haven’t.”
Hoot could lip-read the profanity that slipped past Collier’s frown. Having an untrained man at his back was the quickest way for a SWAT officer to die in the performance of his duty. “None?”