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Colby Justice

Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

A Note to the Reader

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Copyright

A NOTE TO THE READER

The Colby Agency is under siege. Victoria Colby-Camp and fourteen members of her staff were taken hostage. Twenty-four hours later, all hostages of the agency except one were released. NOW Victoria’s survival depends upon the people she has over the years hand selected and trained at the Colby Agency—her staff. Yet her compassion and forthrightness alone may serve to help another life in jeopardy. Perhaps two.

The twenty-four hours to come will ultimately determine if Victoria will survive—if any of those under siege inside the Colby Agency will survive.

Will the Colby Agency fall beneath the weight of this siege? Only time will tell…but time is short.

Twenty-four hours…each one bringing death closer and closer. The clock starts now.

The first two stories of the Colby Agency’s UNDER

SIEGE series have been very emotional works for me.

I hope you will enjoy every moment. This entire six-

book series is dedicated to all the loyal Colby fans.

Chapter One

Temporary command center, 8:50 a.m.

Maggie’s Coffee House was closed for business. Across the street, the building that housed the Colby Agency was locked down tight supposedly due to a gas leak.

No one got in. No one got out. Penny Alexander stared beyond the white lettering on the plate-glass window before her. At this time of the morning, those descending upon the Magnificent Mile and the surrounding streets generally hit Maggie’s for a blast of caffeine. Not today.

Today the popular café continued as a temporary command center while the Colby Agency remained in the relentless grip of silent peril. Much needed assistance from the local authorities could not be summoned. As far as the world was concerned, the building had been closed as a safety precaution. The ruthless terrorists inside had made the rules and not one could be broken if the head of the prestigious Colby Agency was to survive.

Penny had reflected many times on how her long-awaited first day at the Colby Agency would commence. Not once since being interviewed had she considered that the day would begin like this.

An internal crisis involving basic survival.

The current situation could be called nothing else. Penny wondered if this was the beginning of the end for the Colby Agency. Just her luck.

“Steele is ready.”

Penny shifted her focus from the building across the street to the man who had spoken, Ian Michaels. Tall, dark, attractive and incredibly still. Every move, every word was precise and calculated for an exact result. He had called scarcely two weeks ago to inform her that she had been selected for the position at which she had only dared to hope having a shot. She had been perfectly happy and completely willing to wait out the necessary time for the final background search required to obtain security clearance.

But Ian had called a few hours ago with a shocking request. The Colby Agency needed her. Now.

“Excellent.” Penny nodded, forcing back the frustrating lump of uncertainty in her throat. She could do this. “I’m ready.”

Ian considered her a moment longer before turning and leading the way to where the rest of the team pored over the building’s complicated floor plan.

Most of the beleaguered agency staff had been sent home, only those absolutely essential to the effort about to launch had remained at the temporary command center. Ian, of course. Simon Ruhl, Ian’s equal at the agency. Jim Colby, Victoria’s son. And the mysterious Lucas Camp, Victoria’s husband. The others were from Jim’s team of Equalizers, a fellow called Rocky, Leland Rockford, and Ben Steele…the man who would be Penny’s partner for this undertaking.

Steele had shaken her hand once, but otherwise he’d paid little attention to her, period. Penny wasn’t sure if he just didn’t like the fact that she was a woman or if he didn’t like partners in general. Ian Michaels had briefed her on Steele’s background, but no insight to him on a personal level had been provided. Whether he currently or had in the past worked with a partner was not disclosed.

Whatever the case, she was his partner today.

“Two hours,” Steele was saying, “if we’re lucky. And that’s if we don’t run into any serious complications. We can make the fourth floor in that time frame if all goes well.”

“Unacceptable.” Jim Colby shook his head and planted his hands on his hips. He, too, was tall and heavily muscled. Blondish-brown hair with piercing blue eyes. “I need you in there within the hour one way or another. Every minute that slips by could be the one…” His jaw clamped shut on the rest of the words, but there was no way to miss the pain in his eyes.

His mother’s fate lay in their hands.

“Taking it slow is the only way to ensure we’re not detected,” Steele reminded his boss. His tone was firm yet understanding. “One wrong move—one misstep—and Victoria dies. We can’t take any risks. Not one. Slow and methodical, that’s how we’ll make this turn out the way we all want.”

Penny considered the man who would be her partner. Not as tall as Jim or Ian, around six feet maybe. Dark hair, close cropped, almost military style. And dark brown eyes that were every bit as watchful as Ian’s.

“Jim.” Lucas Camp stepped forward, shouldering his way between his stepson and Steele. “Ben is right. We do this slow and easy. No unnecessary risks.” His tone left no room for negotiation.

Ian and Simon exchanged a glance but held their tongues. Penny had a feeling that a number of lines had been drawn in the sand well before her arrival on the scene. The Colby Agency and the Equaliz- ers were working together to achieve this goal. The tension was thick enough to squeeze the air right out of the room.

“We’ve got movement!”

The warning came from Ted Tallant, another Colby investigator who’d insisted on staying on the scene. He’d been keeping watch over the front of the building across the street. His curly, blond hair was a little longish, and reminded Penny of the surfer dudes who hung out along the sandy beaches of Malibu. His gold eyes were friendly and he seemed to always be smiling. Colby investigator KendraTodd maintained surveillance from a position on the backside of the building. Penny hadn’t met Kendra but she’d heard her voice a number of times over the communications link.

Both Kendra and Ted had refused to leave after being released by their captors and having their minor injuries treated. Numerous others had wanted to stay, but their injuries and state of exhaustion had dictated otherwise. Besides, Penny presumed that if this thing dragged on much past noon, it was very likely that relief would be required. Those working now might have to stand down so that others more rested could take over.

Not to mention that keeping the whole operation below the official radar of the police and city maintenance grew less and less feasible as the minutes ticked off. The wrong kind of attention could blow the operation.

Penny followed the rest of the crew to the window where Tallant offered his binoculars to his superior, Ian. “The man entering the building,” Tallant explained as he pointed toward the figure stepping through the front entrance, “is Leonard Thorp.”

Thorp had shown up around eight, as Penny recalled. About the same time she had arrived. Then he’d left for half an hour or so. That he carried a large box as he entered now was disturbing. The possibilities of what could be inside that single box presented additional concerns.

Ian peered through the binoculars, evidently wanting to confirm Tallant’s conclusion with a close-up. “The mock trial will likely get underway now,” Ian said. “The box Thorp is carrying is marked as Sensitive Case Files.” He lowered the binoculars and shifted his attention to those gathered around him. “Moving forward cannot wait. We don’t have another moment to waste.”

A chill raced up Penny’s spine. The tension in the room rocketed to a new level.

The men started talking at once. Penny watched as the sedan that had dropped off Thorp drove away. Ian had explained that Thorp’s stepdaughter had been murdered last year by drug and prostitution ringleader Reginald Clark, also known as The Prince. Thorp had spent months putting together a revenge strategy after the pathetic case against The Prince had fallen apart in court. His revenge included the former Cook County district attorney, Timothy Gordon, and a pivotal juror, Victoria Colby-Camp.

According to the man who’d led the siege of the Colby Agency, Gordon was getting a second chance to do the right thing. As was Victoria. The Prince would be executed when found guilty…within the next twenty-three hours. Anyone who got in the way, made a wrong move, etcetera, would be terminated as well.

The Colby Agency had been forced by the terrorists who’d taken the staff hostage to deliver Gordon. No contact with the authorities had been permitted. If their effort had failed or if they’d chosen to contact the authorities, everyone inside would have been murdered. A no-win situation.

The Colby Agency had broken a number of laws. So far, murder wasn’t one of them. But unless Steele and Penny could get inside and neutralize the situation first, at least one man would die. The agency would be an accessory to homicide.

The likelihood that this so-called Prince deserved to die was not the issue. This mock trial was a witch hunt pure and simple. Thorp and his minions had to be stopped before yet another line was crossed. One the Colby Agency might never be able to overcome.

“Let’s gear up,” Steele said to Penny.

Penny grabbed her duffel and headed to the ladies’ room. A black spandex bodysuit would allow for unimpeded movement as well as camouflage in the darkness. Although it was daylight outside, inside the inner structure of the building it would be dark. Damned dark.

Drawing in a big, deep breath, she shook off that last thought and clipped into place the wireless earpiece that would provide the necessary communications with the command center here in the coffeehouse. Gloves, and rubber-soled shoes designed for whisper-quiet steps and incredibly firm grip came on next.

After tucking her fiery red hair into a black skullcap, she grabbed the night-vision goggles and draped them around her neck. They were light, small, but immensely powerful. The technology had come a long way in recent years. Not that she’d had occasion to use such technology in the past. Not really. As a forensics technician she’d used many other types of goggles, but never ones for scouting out prey in the dark.

Despite her determination, a shiver raced over her skin once more. She would not let foolish worries get to her. The next few hours were far too crucial.

She pulled a lightweight but roomy backpack from the duffel of supplies. Inside the backpack were climbing tools and aids. A serious flashlight and a small first-aid kit, along with water packets and a couple of energy bars. Whoever had put together their gear had thought of everything.

Including a weapon and another type of head-wear. Looked like a ski mask but was made from the same stretchy material as the suit she wore. She told herself that dying this first day as a Colby Agency investigator was not going to happen. Allowing that kind of negativity would only work against her determination.

Wasn’t going to happen.

She stepped out of the restroom and shrugged on her backpack. Her new partner, who’d exited the men’s room, glanced her way. She summoned her waning courage and confirmed, “Ready.”

As she came up beside Steele, who was dressed similarly, the bodysuit clinging to lean, well-honed muscle, Ian gave one last block of instruction.

“We cannot hear anything inside. We have no visuals. All communications, including the security monitors, have been disabled as far as what we can attempt to access from here. That does not mean that those monitors are inoperable to those inside. So beware. However,” he countered, “what we can detect is movement.” He sent a nod toward Lucas. “Thankfully one of Lucas’s contacts provided a thermal-imaging scanner that allows us to determine the whereabouts of all those inside the building.”

Simon directed their attention to the building’s blueprints, which had been downloaded into the thermal-imaging system. “Fortunately there was no one else inside the building at the time of the takeover, so the only warm bodies are on the fourth floor.” His gaze locked with Penny’s. “Our floor. We have Victoria, Clark, Gordon and seven members of the enemy’s team. Eight, now that Thorp has entered the mix. They show up as hot spots, red dots, if you will.”

“If anyone leaves the fourth floor—” Lucas picked up from there “—we can alert you as to their movements. But that’s our limit. There is nothing we can do to help you if you run into trouble. We can’t rush in—that’s not an option. Bottom line, once you get inside, you’re on your own.”

Penny moistened her lips and ordered her respiration to remain steady. Ian Michaels had briefed her on the potential risk. This was nothing new.

“The ability to warn us if the enemy is headed our way is better than nothing,” Steele allowed, acknowledging Lucas’s firm warning. “At least if we know they’ve detected our presence, we can brace for trouble or run the other way.”

“Once we’re inside,” Penny ventured, studying the blurred, reddish images on the computer screen, “you’ll know where we are as well, right?” She wasn’t that familiar with thermal imaging, but it made sense if the body heat of the enemy could be detected hers and Steele’s could be as well. To some degree, the idea that the rest of the team would know their whereabouts was comforting.

Steele shook his head before anyone else could answer her question. “We’ve taken precautions to ensure no one can see us.”

“Just in case,” Jim put in, “the enemy has a thermal imager, too. That’s the one precaution we can take in advance.”

Penny felt her brow furrow in confusion. How was that possible? All living bodies exuded heat. “What do you mean?”

Lucas pointed to the suit she wore. “There’s a material built into your suit as well as the headgear in your pack that blocks your body heat from being picked up by a scan. Once you’re ready to go inside—” he gestured to Steele’s duffel “—you’ll put on the necessary headgear. You’ll be completely invisible to them and to us as far as thermal scans go.”

If the situation hadn’t been so dire, she might have actually been impressed. At the moment she was simply grateful for the cover, she decided, determined to maintain some measure of optimism. Dying on her first assignment definitely wasn’t on her agenda. “I’ve always wanted to be invisible.”

“We’re counting on the two of you,” Jim said, his voice as weary and worried as his expression. “This could very well be the only chance we get.” He opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, “Good luck.”

More offers of good luck were called after them as Penny followed Ben to the rear exit on the first floor of the temporary command center.

Before exiting the building, they donned their winter coats, more for not drawing attention to their strange attire than for comfort. Anyone they ran into might very well report seeing such bizarrely dressed pedestrians at this time of the morning.

As they stepped outside into the cold winter air, Penny wondered how the suit could block their heat signatures but didn’t do a whole hell of a lot for keeping them warm against the frigid Chicago temperature. Even with a coat and gloves she was freezing. The shoes were not designed for the snow and ice, and the soles of her feet and her toes chilled almost instantly. She breathed deeply of the cold air. Gathered her strength and courage.

She would need every ounce she possessed to do this right. Years of therapy and determination had marginalized her irrational fears of the dark and tight spaces. She could do this. She had to do this. The job was far too important to her to screw it up on the first day.

Fate had one hell of a sense of humor. Her first assignment was all about darkness and cramped quarters.

“We’re taking the long way around,” Steele told her as he led the way along one of the city’s most well-known thoroughfares. “We’ll cross the street farther up the block and then cut along the alleyway. We’ll access the Colby building through the basement of the neighboring building. I’ve prepared the entry point.”

They’d gone over the strategy twice. She understood that stealth had to be a priority since there was no cover of darkness at this hour of the morning. Waiting for nightfall, hours from now, was out of the question. As Jim had so aptly pointed out, every minute they lost was one that might cost Victoria’s life or the lives of one or more of the others being held against their will.

The structure next to the Colby Agency building housed commercial office space, employees were already arriving but she and Steele would blend into the harried crowd. Not attracting attention was a must.

As he said, Steele had already been in the basement and spent hours achieving the essential modifications. But it wasn’t until Penny was in the basement facing the new opening in the three-feet-thick concrete support wall that separated the underground floor of the two buildings that she understood exactly what he’d accomplished in those long hours before her arrival. The Colby Agency had ensured none of the building’s maintenance crew entered the basement by warning that the problem with the adjacent building was being assessed from the area.

Clearly noticing that her jaw had dropped in surprise, he gestured to the small rectangular hole in the wall a couple of feet up from the floor. “This is our way in,” he said drily. “Our only way in or out.”

She visually measured the width of his broad shoulders, then surveyed the opening once more. “Could be a problem if we’re in a hurry to get back out.” Her throat closed, making it impossible to draw in a deep breath. The opening was damned small…but only three feet to the other side, she reminded herself. Not a problem. She could handle wiggling through.

“Once we get beyond a certain point, if they detect our presence—” Steele retrieved his headgear from his backpack, prompting Penny to do the same “—chances are we won’t need to get out.”

Chapter Two

Inside, 9:05 a.m.

Ben Steele waited as Alexander snaked her body through the small opening he’d managed to sculpt out of the concrete wall separating the basement level of the building they’d entered from the one next door—the building that housed the Colby Agency.

Several hours had been required to slowly, carefully ease through the separating wall. A combination of low-impact charges and special mining drills had done the job an inch at a time without detection by the enemy. Every vibration had had to be measured precisely to ensure as little noise as possible.

The slightest sound could have warned the enemy.

Once Alexander’s feet had disappeared, Ben shrugged off his coat and dropped it to the floor next to hers. He pushed his backpack through the opening and then positioned himself to slide through the fifteen-by-twenty-inch passageway. He canted one shoulder to fit. Tight as hell but not impossible.

His palms flattened on the concrete floor of the neighboring basement. Alexander was already on her feet and waiting for his next order.

Ben walked his body out via his hands and pushed up to a standing position. He tapped his mic twice to inform those listening back at the command center that they were in. Via Ben’s earpiece, Ian Michaels passed along that every glowing image of the enemy remained on the fourth floor.

That was good news.

After positioning an upright, wheeled tool chest in front of the opening by which they had entered, Ben moved to the far side of the massive room and pointed to the ventilation duct that ran upward from the enormous portion of the HVAC system housed in the basement. Another section was secured on the roof. Ben had removed an access panel to the return duct on his previous visit, but then he’d repositioned it so as not to draw attention. He removed the panel once more while she watched. Since he hadn’t secured it fully, removing it was quick and easy and surprisingly soundless.

Alexander moved up beside him and surveyed the one entrance available for reaching the upper floors without using the stairs or the elevators. The main trunk of the heating and cooling system’s return duct.

The return ductwork’s main trunk was very nearly the same size as the one carrying the heated or cooled air. However, the maze of piping for the climate-controlled air branched off into numerous flex lines taking the heated or cooled air to the individual rooms of each floor. The return, on the other hand, remained large enough to maneuver as well as having more than one branch off to each floor that was equally sizable enough to use as an exit or entrance. Here, in the basement, an access point to this main trunk was provided for maintenance purposes.

Ben had attempted to make the journey alone, but certain parts of the intricate and narrow metal path made maneuvering upward without assistance out of the question. Unfortunately, accessing this metal tunnel required a certain flexibility not possessed by most with the needed physical strength and endurance.

Ben possessed that flexibility because of his former occupation. He’d spent more than a dozen years rescuing those trapped deep beneath the ground or under tons of earthquake rubble. He could contort his body in ways that were definitely not natural. Though he was six feet in height and weighed a solid one-hundred-seventy pounds, he was utterly lean. Every pound was muscle, trained to bend and contract with ease.

Penny Alexander reportedly possessed a similar physical ability. According to Michaels and Ruhl, the woman was an incredible gymnast. She certainly had the body for it, Ben noted, his gaze roving her frame. The insulated suit she wore left no room for speculation. It clung to every lean line and sculpted curve.

She turned her palms up, those vivid green eyes letting him know she’d noticed that he was sizing her up and wasn’t particularly happy about it. Her eyes were all that was visible of her face with the full face and head covering that worked much like a ski mask but was made from that same special spandex.

He ignored her questioning look. There was no time for explanations or playing etiquette games. He reached into his backpack and removed the magnetic climbing holds. After a moment of hesitation, likely to banish her frustration, she did the same. Pulling his pack onto his chest rather than his back, he then gripped one hold in each hand and gestured into the metal tunnel’s opening. She would go first.

With a nod of comprehension, she moved into position. Taking care not to make any more sound than necessary, she pressed the round, magnetic surface of each climbing aid to the smooth, metallic wall inside.

Using body language and other noiseless methods of communication as much as possible would be essential since there was no way to know how or when the enemy would be monitoring a particular area of the building. Though the security system was of no use to those at the command center across the street, there was no way to be certain to what extent the enemy had access.

Slowly, Alexander scaled her way into the narrow space. When she’d moved upward far enough, Ben followed. Reaching the first floor wasn’t a problem. It was the bizarre turn and then the ten-to-fourteen-feet incline, depending upon where they were in the building, that presented the dilemma. A ninety-degree angle combined with the climb going up or the drop going down made the task undoable without assistance. He could reach the angle, but he couldn’t move past it without a climbing partner. The opening was too narrow for anything besides his body. There wasn’t a millimeter to spare.

Alexander would need to move beyond that point and then literally wrench him past it. He hoped like hell she was as strong as she claimed to be; otherwise, they had wasted their time.

And that of those inside.

He had briefed her on every aspect of the journey. She felt confident she could accomplish each physical task. He hoped that would prove the case.

There was no margin for error.

The soft glide of their bodies over the metal was very nearly soundless. Each time either of them settled their magnetic climbing assists onto the surface of the metal wall there was a pause in the whispering glide followed by the more distinct contact of the magnetic handholds. Small tap, extended slide. Over and over the rhythmic sounds echoed around them.

Ben’s forward movement stopped as Alexander reached the first ninety-degree angle. She pushed her backpack through first, then pulled and wiggled her way through the narrow opening.

When she’d cleared the angle, Ben moved into position, his head even with the opening. The seemingly endless tunnel widened at the point beyond the angle. On each floor, there would be such an angle and then a wider spot. A perfect place for a breather after the push to get him through this particular sharp and treacherously narrow turn in the metal tunnel. And before making the upward climb.

Shifting the weight of his body to one hand, he passed his backpack through the opening. Twenty or so seconds later, she threaded a rope to him. A powered lift would have negated the need for a partner, but the requirements to work optimally with metal would have generated far too much noise and ultimately too much risk of being overheard. This was the only option. He wrapped the rope she’d sent his way around one hand, then passed her first one magnetic climbing assist, then the other. His respiration escalated as nothing but the rope held him in place. He attempted to provide as much assistance as he could with no way to obtain reasonable purchase with his hands or feet on the slick metal walls.

His head and shoulders cleared the opening. A blast of air hit him in the face. Whenever the heat kicked on, the necessary air to fuel the push would flow through this metal tunnel. Alexander had positioned herself as a lever, feet planted against the wall on either side of her for added support. She pulled hard, the shaking of her arms a warning that she struggled to tug his weight through the tight squeeze. He hoped her strength held out.

Metal pierced the suit and the skin on his right side. The sensation startled Ben. The next drag on the rope ensured that the penetrating object tore through his skin. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t stop. He had to reach the next point.

One more hard pull and he scooted past the angle. He low-crawled onto the horizontal surface and allowed his muscles to relax. Mentally inventoried the injury as he attempted to reposition himself so that he could inspect the damage.

Alexander relaxed as well, allowing her visibly quivering muscles to melt with relief.

Ben removed a glove and checked his side with his fingers. Warm, sticky fluid. Blood leaked from the suit. He bit back the oath.

“We have a blip on the thermal scanner in the vicinity of the first floor,” Michaels informed him.

Blood wasn’t the only thing leaking through the suit. Damn it! Body heat was showing up on the scan. Adrenaline seared through his veins as he tugged the glove back into place.

Having observed his movements and then heard the same report in her earpiece, Alexander reacted. She slid her body over his, ensuring the main portion of her torso covered his injured side. Then she tapped her mic three times in question.

The seconds ticked off with Ben holding his breath.

“Clear,” Michaels responded. “No movement above.”

To Alexander, Ben whispered, “You’re going to need to patch this before we move forward.”

It would be impossible for him to get into the needed position to attend to it himself. Taking the risk of speaking directly into her ear, no matter how softly, was one he’d had no choice but to take. The flow of air helped camouflage any sound, but that wouldn’t last longer than a few minutes. Still, being caught on a thermal scan was by far the more likely and dangerous scenario, since it would alert the enemy not only to their presence but also their precise location.

When she hesitated, he added, “There’s tape in my pack.”

Alexander nodded, then dragged his backpack to her. She sifted through the items inside, dredging up the special tape needed to seal the rip in the shielding suit. She located the injury and quickly applied layer after layer of tape over the wound. The pressure she applied sent pain shooting down his leg and up his side. Just his luck to have something as stupid as this happen right off the bat.