AGENT 23 BLACKOUT (Agent 23 Book 1)

CHAPTER 20

We left my dad's secret cabin an hour before sundown, which means we entered Coastal City under a veil of darkness. By the time we arrive at the old fort, a snow shower had left the surrounding landscape covered by an inch of precipitation. The flakes are powdery, blowing off the roads shortly thereafter but remaining on the grassy areas. To the east, waves batter the coastline, pounding the craggy rocks that provide a barrier between the fort and the ocean.

To the north, when it's time, Kayla positions herself on top of a level plateau that gives her a straight sight line down a steep hillside. From there, she has an unobstructed view of the fort and the surrounding area. In the distance, there's a road behind her that curves along the coast, leading back to the city. But her biggest concern is the nighttime temperatures. Fortunately for her, my dad had a thick parka jacket with a fur-lined hood. She'd have to wait over an hour in the cold for Agent 24 to arrive. She had to be ready, and she had to find some way to stay warm.

After we drop her off within walking distance of her lookout spot, my dad circles the Jeep around and steers us down onto the aging asphalt that runs right up to the north side of the massive stone-walled structure.

Built during the Civil War, the fort has a history. Tourists frequent the place during the day, but no one is here tonight, save for us. When we ease to a stop, we sit in the Jeep and wait, but in the meantime, we stay in contact with Kayla.

"How you doing up there?" A microphone in a tiny earpiece picks up the sound of my voice.

"Good for now," she says.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your level of frostiness?"

"Six-point-five." There's a long pause. "Your dad's coat is a tad big for me, but it's thick enough to block out most of the chill."

"That's good, Kayla," my dad says. "If you need to abort—"

"I'm fine, and I'm ready to do my part."

"Sound off if you need anything."

"Will do."

My dad checks his watch. "Almost eleven-thirty."

"He should be here soon," I say. "I would imagine he'd get here early. Early enough to scout the place and see if we've planted any surprises."

"That's what I'm afraid of, but we got here earlier. We scouted the place out. We should have the upper hand tonight."

"I hope you're right."

Ten minutes pass. Then five more. Then five more. At eleven-fifty, a white van devoid of markings pulls onto the grounds. The vehicle circles around behind us, makes a wide U-turn, and then comes up broadside, facing the driver's side of the Jeep, headlights glaring at us. My dad raises his arm to shield his face. The scene gives me an eerie ache in the pit of my stomach. I catch myself swallowing my trembling nerves as I visualize the vehicle t-boning us in a violent side-on crash.

For another ten minutes, the van idles with the driver behind the wheel. An overhead security light illuminates the parking area, but the way it's position, it shines from behind the van, failing to reveal the driver, only a vague shadow and a pair of gloved hands on the steering wheel. I can imagine Agent 24 with the same wicked grin on his face that he had on the bus in the downtown traffic, thinking he has us right where he wants us.

"That's the van he used to abduct Kayla's father," I say. "He removed the CCPD decals and the sirens on top. That's it, I'm sure of it."

"You're probably right. I'm sure it never was a police van."

"Nope. Never was." I pause, my eyes squinting into slits. "You still good, Kayla?"

When she doesn't answer, I raise my voice. "Kayla? Are you good? Are you still in position?"