CHAPTER ELEVEN
June 27
3:35 a.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Headquarters of the Special Response Team
McLean, Virginia
“Sir?” someone said. “Sir, we’re here.”
Luke snapped awake. He sat up. It took him several seconds to figure out his surroundings.
He was inside the confines of a helicopter, riding in darkness. The chopper was new, and the interior was plush and comfortable. The seats were leather and hadn’t even begun to scuff yet. He knew this chopper well. It was a beautiful bird, the sleek black Bell 430 that Don had acquired for the Special Response Team.
One of the pilots was looking back at him. He was a clean-shaven young guy in a helmet, cherub face, probably just out of the military. His helmet had a small microphone adjusted just above the chin strap. The kid was smiling.
“
