“Stuck in traffic. We’ll need to pull over soon,” Wyatt said a minute later, and damn, the cars were bumper to bumper on the main strip by the river. Not ideal. “We lost communication with the guys in the tunnel, but once we get closer to them, we should hopefully reconnect.”
A.J. had to remind himself Ana wasn’t on a solo op. She wasn’t alone down in those tunnels. His people were there, and she was smart. She’d make it out alive. He trusted her skills, but he didn’t trust the Volkovs.
“Parking here.” Wyatt swooped into a spot opposite the river when another car had backed out. “Perfect,” he tossed out sarcastically. “Right in front of a church.” Once parked, Wyatt scooted around on his seat to face the guys in the back, and Harper radioed the Feds their current position. A hundred feet away were three tourist boats about to unload their guests.
“Now would be the best time to move out. We can blend in with the crowd, then try and hop on board the speedboat,” Chris said, eyes on the river.
“The agents are moving into position,” Harper said once off the radio. “Move out. And be careful.” She gave the guys a stern but loving look. “I’ll be in touch when I hear more.”
A.J. stepped out of the van with Chris and Wyatt and slung a bag over his shoulder. He dodged traffic to get to the river and traversed the crowd of tourists flooding the walkways as they exited the riverboats.
He abruptly halted when static filled his line.
Roman? Ana? A guy shoulder-checked him, nearly knocking his bag off as A.J. stood still, waiting to hear who was on the line in his ear.
Were those Russian words?
“It’s me,” he said over the line, hoping he was now in range to once again communicate with Ana over comms. “If you can hear me, I’m okay,” he told her. “I’m on my way to you.” He hoped to hell Ana heard him. She’d focus better knowing she hadn’t actually killed him.
Wyatt turned in the crowd, searching A.J. out, then hurried back his way. “Come on,” he urged, but A.J. held a hand up, begging for one second.
“A boat to get to a boat?”
Ana. Thank God. And she was giving them a clue.
“They’ve already exited the tunnel,” A.J. said as if Wyatt hadn’t also heard Ana on comms, which he had.
“They must be taking a smaller boat to get to one of the yachts,” Harper chimed in. “We won’t need to wait on the drone to eavesdrop. I’ll have the Feds fly the drone higher in the sky and track the yacht they board.”
“Roger,” A.J. said, still having mixed feelings about all of this. He wished Plan A had been in play, the one where the Volkovs didn’t make Ana prove her loyalty so he’d still be with her now.
“Echo Four, what’s your status?” Wyatt asked as they put eyes on their ride, a Pershing 72 speedboat. Two plainclothes agents were on board, pulling the boat up alongside one of the empty tourist docking sites so Wyatt, A.J., and Chris could quickly board before drawing attention from law enforcement. They’d prefer to keep the local cops out of this op for now.
“This is Echo Five. Sons of bitches wired the tunnel exit with explosives. We’ll be a hot minute,” Finn announced in A.J.’s ear a moment later.
“Lucky you all caught that before exiting,” Chris rushed out.
“We’ll catch another ride out to you if we have to,” Finn added, a bit out of breath from whatever he was doing. Basically, ensuring he and Roman didn’t die.
Another ride meant stealing a boat, probably a tourist vessel, but hopefully, it would be a quick infil and exfil tonight. Their rules of engagement, per Mendez . . . try not to kill anyone. Mendez wanted every last Volkov brought in alive if possible, which would make things trickier.
A few security guards working the tourist docks began yelling in Hungarian at the presence of their speedboat, and the FBI yelled right back at them in the same language. Adding a few hand gestures for good measure. Just great. Gonna get into a gun battle with the local cops.
“We gotta jet,” the dark-haired agent said from behind the wheel. “Get below deck. There’s dive gear down there if you need it.”
A.J. and the guys stopped just before going below deck when Harper announced, “Delta One is boarding a Princess 30M yacht, and they’re already moving. Heading down river,” Harper reported. “Do you copy?”
“Roger,” A.J. said, his heart in his throat before heading for the stateroom.
Once in the cabin, he eyed the dive gear and set his weapons bag on the bed next to it.
“They must have a frequency jammer. We lost connection with Ana,” Harper said as static cut in. Reception wasn’t stellar since they were rapidly moving away from her location. “The drone can’t pick up sound either. You’re going to . . . have to follow . . . and go in dark.”
More like go in hot and fast.
“We just lost Harper,” Wyatt said. “I’ll go on deck and call her.”
A.J. sat on the full-sized bed once Wyatt left, his stomach muscles tight and sore like he’d been punched more than once by a pro boxer. “This is gonna work, right?” he asked Chris while Echo Three slipped on his suit, minus the fins. Since when do I have doubts?
They had to be ready to swim, which was A.J.’s preference to the alternative—jumping from their speedboat onto the Volkovs’ yacht at too fast a speed. He didn’t have that much faith in the grappling hook he’d need to toss to hold his weight. He’d done a similar maneuver outside San Domingo back when Marcus was still alive, and he wasn’t itching to do it again. His face had smashed against the fiberglass of the boat that night like he was a slapstick comedian, and his jaw had hurt for weeks. Marcus had laughed his ass off about it, too.
Chris leaned forward, setting a hand on A.J.’s shoulder. “Everything will be good. No worries. And nothing like a nice little swim in the Danube to cool us off, right?”
But Chris’s humor was lost on him right now. Ana was surrounded by dangerous men, her status currently unknown.
The boat began to slow, and A.J. stood, throwing his arms out to the sides for balance. He caught sight of Wyatt rushing back their way, a panicked look on his face. “Get ready. Get on deck now!” he yelled, then turned and disappeared back up top.
“What the—” They picked up speed again, cutting through the water. Shit, this can’t be good.
A.J. hurriedly got dressed into his dive gear and followed Chris to the deck as their boat passed by the lit-up Hungarian Parliament building.
“What’s your status?” Wyatt had a hand to one ear to better hear out the other as he talked on the phone. “We need you now. Hijack the boat if you have to. That’s an order.” He ended the call, his rifle slung over his shoulder, a pistol strapped to his thigh and one at his hip. His dive gear in a pile on the couch off to his side.
The boat lights were dimmed to prevent being spotted by the Volkovs. “What’s going on?” A.J. grabbed a handlebar when the boat suddenly slowed down, and he was nearly tossed overboard.
“Two more boats are joining the party.” Wyatt pointed out at the water, then his gaze cut to the FBI agents at the helm. “I think it’s safe to say someone on the FBI team tipped off the Russians.”