Operation: Midnight Guardian

Mattie gazed out the small window at the stark winter-dead trees silhouetted against a jagged horizon. They were traveling on a desolate stretch of highway somewhere in the mountains and heading west. The bleak scene reminded her of her life—cold and desolate—and at that moment she’d never felt more alone.

She leaned against the seat back and tried not to think. But her scientist’s mind was always at work. It was one of the reasons she’d been hired to work on the top-secret EDNA project at the Department of Defense.

If only she’d known….

A loud bang disrupted the silence. The van swerved violently, tossing her against the wall. Mattie looked over to see the young marshal rise, his expression alarmed, his hand going to his sidearm. Had a tire blown?

Then a second bang sounded. The van veered left, the force throwing Mattie to the floor. A few feet away the young marshal clutched the balance bar as he stumbled toward the cab, his eyes trained on the driver.

“Sam, what happened?” he shouted. “Sam!”

The driver didn’t answer. Through the windshield Mattie saw the headlights play wildly over brush and sapling trees. Fear cut through her when she realized the van was careening into a ravine.

A violent bump sent her two feet into the air. The marshal stumbled and fell but didn’t drop his radio. “Bravo Victor Two Niner. We got a code—”

His voice was cut off as the van pitched. Mattie caught a glimpse of the driver slumped over the wheel. Out the window, she saw sparks and debris spew high into the air. Another lurch tossed her to the opposite side of the van and sent the marshal sliding across the floor. The female marshal was shouting as she grappled for her radio.

The lights blinked out, plunging them into darkness. The floor tilted, and Mattie began to tumble. She tried to raise her arms to protect herself, but the cuffs and shackles hindered her. A sound that was part scream, part moan tore from her throat when her head snapped back, shattering glass.

Then suddenly the van was still. In total darkness Mattie lay on her back. Somewhere nearby steam hissed. The side door was now above her and stood open. Cold air poured in, embracing her with icy fingers. Beyond, a sliver of moon illuminated fast-moving storm clouds.

The female marshal called out. “Is everyone all right?”

“I think my leg’s broke,” came a weak voice.

“What the hell happened?” came a third.

“Logan? You okay?”

Mattie did a quick physical inventory. Her head hurt. Raising her hand, she touched her temple, felt the wetness of blood. “I’m cut.”

“Stay put.” One male marshal groaned as he rose.

“What about Sam?” the female marshal asked, referring to the driver.

Mattie looked toward the cab. By the light of the moon she could see that the driver was slumped across the seat at an odd angle.

“I’ll check.” One of the male marshals went to the driver.

“We’ve got an engine fire,” came another voice.

“Let’s get everyone out of the van.”

Mattie shoved herself to a sitting position and looked around. Through the cab window she saw the yellow flicker of flames coming from the engine. Somewhere in the van, the injured marshal groaned in pain.

The other male marshal came up beside her and squatted. “I’m going to take the shackles off your ankles so you can climb out.”

Still numb with shock, Mattie nodded. “Okay.”

Quickly he removed the shackles and tossed them aside. Leaving the handcuffs in place, he took her arm firmly and guided her toward the open door where the female agent was waiting. “Get the prisoner to a safe place and keep an eye on her. Get on the radio and get an ambulance and the local sheriff’s office here ASAP. I’m going to get Sam out in case the van blows.”

“Roger that.” The female marshal heaved herself through the open door, then leaned down and offered her hand to Mattie. “Come on.”

Mattie braced her feet on the seat back and let the woman pull her from the van. Cold night air engulfed her as she emerged. She smelled gasoline and smoke. Felt heat from the engine fire. The female marshal pointed to a fallen log several yards away. “Sit down and don’t move. You got that?”

On shaking legs Mattie stumbled over to the log and sat down hard. She didn’t know if it was from cold or shock, but she couldn’t seem to stop shaking. The van had ended up on its side thirty-five feet down a treacherously steep ravine. The interior lights were out, but a single dim headlight shot a beam through the darkness, exposing a cliff that surely would have killed all onboard had the van gone over.

The female marshal tugged her radio from her belt. “This is Bravo Victor Two Niner—”

A soft thwack! sounded. Startled by the sound, Mattie looked up in time to see the female marshal collapse. Concerned, she rushed to the fallen woman and knelt.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

At first she though the marshal had succumbed to some injury sustained in the crash. Panic hit when she found herself looking at a hole the size of a dime in the woman’s forehead.

“Oh my God.” Mattie staggered back. She looked around, spotted the two male marshals climbing out of the van. “I think she’s been shot!” she cried.

The two men looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Both marshals jerked as if an overzealous puppeteer had yanked invisible strings. Something dark and shiny bloomed on one of the men’s jacket. They collapsed and lay still.

Mattie stared at the fallen men in disbelief. Someone was shooting at them, but she couldn’t fathom who or why. What was going on?

A light slashed through the darkness at the top of the ravine. Relief swept through her when four men emerged from a black SUV. She was about to call out to them when it struck her that they were speaking in a language she wasn’t familiar with. Who were they? How had they arrived on the scene so quickly?

Instinct sent her slinking behind the fallen log. From her hiding place, she watched as they started toward the wreckage and the downed U.S. Marshals. Were these men rescuers? Or were they the shooters?

One of the men stopped at the nearest fallen marshal. “Where is your prisoner?” he asked in a heavily accented voice.

The marshal groaned. “Help us…”

“Where is your prisoner?” the man repeated.

“Got…away,” the marshal groaned.

The man drew back a booted foot and kicked the marshal. “Where is she!”

The marshal ground out a curse. “Screw…you.”

Hissing a word Mattie didn’t understand, the man pulled a gun from his belt. “Stupid American,” he said and shot the marshal at point-blank range.

Horrified, Mattie scrambled back, put her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. She’d never seen anything so brutal in her life. Who were these men? Why had they shot that marshal in cold blood? And why were they looking for her?

But deep inside, Mattie knew what they wanted. The knowledge terrified her almost as much as the brutality she’d just witnessed.

The killer stepped back, his eyes skimming the area, a predator hungry for a kill. Mattie instinctively sank closer to the ground.