Free 72 Hours (A Thriller) by William Casey Moreton

because the canopy of leaves and boughs sprawling above blotted out all but a minimal glow of celestial light.   The terrain sloped away.   They scrambled, tumbling.   They had no sense of direction except to keep moving downhill.   Then they heard the fence rattle behind them in the dark and knew that the first of the pursuers was climbing over.   Lindsay knew the slim head start would not last.   She pushed through the pain, willing herself forward.   Sirens wailed in the distance.   Her lungs burned as she gulped breath.
    The fence rattled hard in the darkness behind them, again and again, boots and weapons scraping against the wooden slats.
    Lindsay had Wyatt and Ramey by the hands.   They ran without a path to follow, out of breath and weak with fear, branches and thorny boughs slashing them in the face and throat.   And then, suddenly and without warning, the ground fell away beneath them.

CHAPTER 27

    Far below the FBI helicopter, the lights of the city shimmered like jewels.   Special Agent Kline spent much of the flight to FBI headquarters in Los Angeles talking on his cell, straining to hear the voices on the other end of the line.   He touched base with Sperry, who had remained behind at San Quentin.  
    Archer was quickly getting a better understanding of what he was heading into.   He pulled his Beretta from the duffel bag, checked that it was loaded, and shoved it down the waistband of his khakis.   He hadn’t experienced this level of adrenaline in a long time.   Almost five years to be exact.   This wasn’t the same thing as catching the perfect wave.   This was an altogether different animal.  
    The McDonnell Douglas 530 was en route to 11000 Wilshire Boulevard.   FBI headquarters in Los Angeles.   A slight twist formed in Archer’s belly.   He hadn’t set foot inside 11000 Wilshire Boulevard in years, and his last memories of the place were not pleasant.   In fact, his last memories of Special Agent David Kline were not pleasant.   He glanced out the window at the city.
    The radio headsets crackled as a call was patched through.   An agent named Myers was suddenly in their ears.
    “Kline, we have James Hammond on the other line,” Myers said.   “His ex-wife called.”
    Kline glanced over his shoulder at Archer.
    Archer met his eye in the surreal light of the cockpit but offered no hint of reaction.
    “Put him through,” Kline said.
    There was a series of digital tones on the line as the connection was made.
    “Mr. Hammond?”
    “Yes, I’m here.”
    “Mr. Hammond, this is Special Agent Kline speaking, sir.   It’s good to hear from you.”
    “Lindsay called about seven minutes ago.   She’s still on the line.”
    “Can you conference her in with us?”
    “Yes, okay.”
    A pause, and then another digital tone.
    “Lindsay?” James Hammond said.
    The voice that responded was barely audible.   “I’m here, James.”
    “Lindsay, I have Special Agent Kline with the FBI on the line.   Do you remember him?”
    Silence for a long moment.
    “Lindsay?” Hammond said.
    The frail whisper returned.   “Can’t…can’t talk now.”
    Kline took command of the call.   “Lindsay, are you in immediate danger?”
    “Yes.”
    “Okay,” Kline said.   “We understand.   Are the kids with you?”
    “Yes, they are right here.”
    “Good.   Can you tell me your present location?”
    Silence.
    They could hear controlled heavy breathing on the line, but nothing else.
    “Lindsay?”
    No response.
    “Myers, are you working on her cell?” Kline said through the headset mike.
    “Affirmative.   We are talking to her service provider to get a lock on her location.   They are working on the triangulation.   Should know something in the next few minutes.”
    Radio squawk filled their headsets.
    “Lindsay, can you still hear me?” Kline asked.
    Again, no response.   A few seconds later the line clicked and the call ended.   They had lost her.
    “She dropped,”