Over three hours later, the Gulfstream jet landed at a small airport. Jack disembarked, feeling refreshed, with JJ beside him, her face slightly flushed.
Private jets were far more convenient and efficient than commercial flights. If they had taken a regular airline, they would have wasted a lot of time waiting at the airport. Plus, a Gulfstream flying at 0.8 Mach was much faster.
Jack silently made up his mind: once their team of wanted fugitives gained a reputation and could compete with other task forces nationwide for cases, they'd have a 24/7 Gulfstream ready, just like the BAU team. The only drawback might be that FBI planes didn't come with attractive flight attendants. But hey, he could bring his own if needed.
Allenwood was a remote, forest-surrounded small town in northern central Pennsylvania, about a hundred kilometers from the Canadian border. By now, the rest of the team had already arrived at the prison where the incident occurred. Even Alice had joined, riding along in the command vehicle. Clay had come alone, driving a GMC to pick them up at the airport.
"Have they found the helicopter?" Jack asked as soon as he got off the plane.
Clay shook his head. "Not yet. According to witnesses, it was a TwinStar helicopter that flew east."
A TwinStar, also known as the AS-355 "Squirrel" helicopter, was a popular, low-cost, easy-to-maintain civilian model from France's aerospace company.
While Clay drove, Jack searched on his phone. The helicopter's maximum speed was about 270 kilometers per hour. Heading east would lead to New York, roughly 260 kilometers away. Even accounting for low-altitude flying to avoid radar detection, they should've reached their destination by now. Hopefully, he hadn't come all this way for nothing.
"Why didn't they head north straight to Canada?" Jack asked, surprising both Clay and JJ, who was flipping through a briefing.
"New York State is just over 100 kilometers north. The areas around Lake Ontario are sparsely populated. They could easily disguise themselves and slip across the border. Once in Canada, they'd have plenty of options to disguise and make their way back to Mexico."
JJ considered this. "Maybe it's because Maldonado's cartel, the Zapotec drug syndicate, doesn't have much influence in Canada? It's strange though—DEA operations against them are active in both Pennsylvania and New York. Why move him here for questioning instead of keeping him in Florida, where he was before? That's Colombian territory. There, his cartel rivals would make it harder for him to escape, even if he managed a breakout."
Jack sneered, "Trust me, if you asked the DEA why, they could give you a hundred reasons."
Clay looked uncertain. "Are you implying... that the DEA might have been involved in this escape?"
Jack shrugged confidently. "Officially? Of course not. But pulling off a high-profile prison break with bombs and helicopters is far more complicated than tampering with a transport schedule. Also, I'm not implying—it's a fact. Whoever the DEA sends over, don't believe a word they say."
Clay, a former Navy SEAL, found this hard to accept. He wasn't used to the distrust and infighting between federal agencies. For elite SEAL teams like his, there was no reality where their superiors would casually sacrifice them as disposable assets like in some Hollywood film. Their missions were directly tied to national security and were typically insulated from internal sabotage.
While occasional conflicts arose during operations between the SEALs and agencies like the CIA or DEA, they generally maintained mutual trust. However, Jack's blunt assertion was a new experience for Clay. Still, he quickly adjusted. After all, cases of intelligence agencies fostering drug cartels for their own purposes weren't unheard of. Corrupt insiders aiding such operations was a logical possibility.
When they reached the prison, a crowd of reporters and media had already gathered at the entrance. Clay had to honk several times before they reluctantly moved aside to clear a path.
Inside a temporary command center, a state police officer in uniform was talking to Jubal.
"This is Captain Roland, head of the state police tactical unit," Jubal introduced, his brows furrowed. "Ground searches have turned up nothing so far. We've deployed four helicopters for an aerial sweep, but no leads yet."
"Did you bring all the gear?" Jack asked Hannah.
"Yep, including your Barrett," Hannah replied, casting a suspicious glance at JJ, who was glowing with energy. She playfully stuck her tongue out at her.
"Let's head to the prison's surveillance room. Alice should have the footage ready. The warden is there too," Jubal suggested.
Jack and Jubal walked ahead while the others stayed behind. Jack asked, "Have all local airports been locked down? Helicopters flying low to avoid radar will attract attention, so they likely switched vehicles soon after leaving. Highways are risky due to checkpoints. The fastest escape would be via a private plane with pre-arranged clearance."
"I thought of that too. We issued a lockdown immediately. State police are inspecting all airports. The problem is, there are too many small airfields around here. We can only ensure that no unauthorized planes took off after the incident."
When they entered the surveillance room, Alice was busy at her workstation. Allenwood Prison housed up to 2,000 inmates and had over a thousand cameras. Reviewing footage from the right angles at the right times was a meticulous task.
The prison warden was a tough-looking white woman in her fifties with a stern, chiseled face and a gravelly, smoker's voice. She reminded Jack of the strict disciplinarians from his school days.
They started watching the edited footage Alice had compiled. The incident began at 8:20 a.m. with a loud explosion in the boiler room. Fire and smoke quickly engulfed the entire D block.
"I immediately ordered a full lockdown," the warden explained, standing behind them. "All fire doors outside of D block were sealed, and I instructed the guards to conduct an inmate count."
"So the prisoners in D block, including Maldonado, were evacuated," Jack noted. "But according to protocol, they wouldn't have been allowed to roam freely in the yard. You intended to confine them to this fenced-off isolation area, correct?"
Jack pointed at the prison map on the wall. The yard was about the size of a football field—large enough to accommodate a helicopter. The isolation area, separated by wire fencing, was much smaller, roughly the size of half a basketball court.
"Yes," the warden confirmed. "Because Maldonado was transferred from a maximum-security facility, we placed him in a single cell. When the explosion occurred, all cell doors in D block were unlocked, and he was evacuated along with the others."
Alice clicked to switch camera angles. One feed showed a wide view from a watchtower. Just as the inmates were being evacuated, a helicopter appeared from the southeast.
(End of Chapter)
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