Betrayal (Julian Mercer Book 2)

by G. K. Parks

  “He didn’t answer either. Something’s gone awry.” Mercer ran to the car, shifting it into gear and driving down the street before realizing he needed a location. “What’s Dawson’s address?”

  “Shit,” Bastian relayed the information, glancing at a map, “I’m closer to Trila, so I’ll check on Logan. You get to the apartment and see if you can find Sarina’s assistant.”

  “Get Hans on the line. He’s gone radio silent. Is his comm active?”

  “Negative,” Bastian replied. “I have GPS enabled on his phone.” There was an uncertain pause. “I’ll handle it.”

  “Handle what?” Mercer barked, ignoring the blaring car horns and profane screams that chased after his speeding car.

  “Just check on Brie.” Bastian hooked a bluetooth to his ear, stuck his cell phone in his pocket, grabbed a spare nine millimeter which went into his ankle holster, and went out the door. “How close are you?”

  “Eight minutes. Maybe less.” Slamming the brakes, Mercer expertly maneuvered the wheel, stopping the car from skidding into the side of a building. “When did she drop off the grid?”

  “Monday night.” Unlike his counterpart, Bastian observed some of the traffic laws while he made his way to the Trila International building. “It could be nothing. Was there any hard evidence to support your hunch?”

  “Aside from the obvious?” Mercer scanned the addresses as they flashed past, becoming distracted.

  “Yeah, like blood or detached fingers lying about?”

  “No.”

  “She might be fine.”

  “I’m here,” Mercer said. “Going silent.”

  He turned off the speaker and secured the phone in his breast pocket. After removing his handgun, he held it against his thigh as he walked swiftly to the apartment building. Hitting all the call buttons on the outside wall, he waited for someone to buzz him in. Once the door opened, he gave the lobby a quick scan and headed up the steps. Three floors later, he cautiously stepped out of the stairwell. No one was in the corridor, and he went to Brie’s apartment. He knocked, but there was no answer. Waiting three counts, he stepped backward, took a deep breath, and kicked the door open, splintering the wood frame.

  Moving from room to room, he cleared the one bedroom apartment in under a minute. The place was messy. He shut the door, ignoring the gawking stares of a few of the nosier neighbors. The authorities would probably be notified momentarily. Assuming a break-in wasn’t a top priority, he had roughly ten minutes to determine where Brie was and if she went on her own volition.

  Picking through the scattered items on her bedroom floor, he wasn’t sure if the assistant was a slob or if the room had been tossed. Think, Mercer insisted, hoping to determine what she might possess that the kidnappers or someone at Trila would want. Sarina’s day planner, a key to the office, something that would give them access to Logan Porter and Trila’s protocols. It could be anything or nothing. Realizing that he had no idea what he was looking for or what had been taken, he returned to the main living area. A woman screamed, and he pointed his gun at her, half a second away from firing.

  She screamed again, louder this time, and a man from the hallway burst through the door with a shotgun. Mercer shifted his aim, slightly relieved that the man hadn’t fired. The shotgun wielder stepped in front of the girl and yelled at Mercer to lower his gun.

  “You first,” Mercer said, watching the woman peek around the man’s shoulder. The annoying pink tips of her hair were unmistakable. “Ms. Dawson, there’s no need to be alarmed.”

  She stopped screaming, recognizing the man before her. “The hell there isn’t. You broke into my house.” She looked around the room. “You. Broke. Into. My. House.”

  “I’ll take care of him,” the shotgun goon mumbled. “I’ll teach this foreigner some manners.”

  “Shut it,” Mercer said, wishing he could simply make the guy vanish. Forcing himself to speak softly, he focused his attention on Brie. “I was under the impression something happened to you.”

  “Something? Like what?” She curled a strand of hair around her finger. “Does this have to do with Mrs. P?”

  “Your phone and credit activity ceased Monday night.”

  “I’ve been staying with Brick.” She hugged the shoulders of the man in front of her. “He was worried about me after the kidnapping crap.” She looked around her apartment again. “As you can see, someone else was here. When the neighbor said some man just busted through my door, I thought whoever it was had come back.” She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t do this the first time, did you?”

  “No.” Mercer shifted his gaze. “You can lower that gun, Tex.”

  “It’s Brick,” the man responded, dropping the barrel to the floor. “Answer the lady, or I’ll make you.”

  Mercer had seen lots of tough guys and guys that wanted to be tough. It would be easier to simply do as the guy said. “No. Was anything taken? Did you have any valuable information here?”

  Brie shrugged. “Like what?”

  “Information on Sarina or her husband or a key to her house? Something like that?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay.” Mercer holstered his weapon. “You need to tell me everything about Sarina’s missed meeting and when you first realized she had been taken.”

  Twenty-one

  “You’re insane,” Brie concluded. “Why would I collude with a kidnapper?”

  Mercer sighed. As soon as the questions started, she had become defensive, and the lug sitting beside her simply exacerbated the situation. Standing, Mercer glanced around the room again. He didn’t notice any surveillance equipment anywhere inside the building or in her apartment. That didn’t mean that it wasn’t bugged, but he assumed not.

  “Sarina made the appointment with the jam company on her own. She wrote it on the calendar, and she didn’t need your help. Correct?”

  “Yep.” Brie popped a piece of gum into her mouth and snapped it loudly. “I already said that. It’s why I don’t know where she was meeting them.”

  “How did you discover the meeting?”

  “The guy called to ask where Mrs. Porter was. He thought she was going to meet him at his office, but she didn’t show up. He thought he had the time wrong.” She blew a bubble, popping it with her finger and pushing the gum back inside her mouth. “I found it written on the calendar and told him that the signals must have been crossed and Mrs. P would call him to reschedule. When she didn’t come to the office, I gave her a call, but there was no answer. Like the phone didn’t ring. It just went straight to voicemail.” She shrugged. “I thought it was strange. I found out later that something happened. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was until now.” She looked pointedly at Mercer. “I don’t have anything to do with this, so you can’t arrest me.”

  “I’m not a policeman,” Mercer hissed.

  “Then why are we talking to you?” Brick asked.

  “Look,” Mercer growled, “stay out of sight. If anyone else shows up, call me. Is that understood?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Brie replied.

  “And if I ring you again, make sure you answer.” Mercer pulled out one of his cards and handed it to her. It was the only static number the team possessed. “Right now, I need to know if there is any way of discovering who spoke to Sarina about scheduling the meeting. I’ll need office records and access to any private line or e-mail she might have.”

  “I thought Mr. P gave you all that.” Brie chewed thoughtfully on her gum.

  “What about that other account you told me about, babe?” Brick asked, nudging her in the ribs. “Would there be something on that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Brie reached for the pen and scanned the room for a piece of paper. “Give me your hand.” Obediently, Mercer held out his hand, and she wrote a username on his palm. “That was her little secret. I don’t think Mr. P knows about it. I teased her that she used that to meet men online.”

  “Did she?” Mercer asked, remem
bering the kinkier items in Sarina’s lingerie drawer.

  “I’m not sure. She said it was just business, and she wanted it separate. No one knows about it. She only accessed it on her smart phone, never on her desktop.”

  “Then how do you know this?” Mercer held out his hand.

  “She left her phone on the desk one day, and I was bored.” Brie shrugged. “What? I’m her assistant. It’s how I assist.”

  “Did you read her e-mails?”

  Again, the infuriating shrug appeared. “I scanned some subject lines. They sounded boring, but Mrs. P came back to get her phone and tore into me for snooping. She kept a closer eye on her phone after that.”

  Shaking his head, Mercer went to the door, regretting his earlier level of concern for Ms. Dawson. Frankly, he should have realized that a kidnapper of Alpha’s caliber wouldn’t risk his operation by leaving loose ends. Had he gained access to Sarina through Brie, the woman would have been killed almost immediately. No, Alpha had created the perfect opportunity with Sarina’s help. Either she had inadvertently given him access, believing he was a client, or he had used surveillance and hacking to his advantage. The question that remained was how he happened upon her, and the best way to determine that would be to track Logan Porter’s movements.

  Returning to the car, Mercer took the phone off mute, hearing Bastian’s voice through the earpiece. Obviously, his second-in-command was at Trila, deep in conversation. It sounded polite, like the bulk of Bastian’s conversations, so Mercer drove to meet Donovan. His concern over Hans hadn’t abated, but Bastian said he’d handle it, which meant that their sharpshooter mustn’t be in any real danger.

  At the conclusion of Bastian’s conversation, Mercer spoke up, relaying the condition of Brie Dawson. The lack of response meant that Bastian wasn’t alone, so Mercer didn’t share his current location or the information he had gleaned concerning Sarina’s private e-mail account. With Trila, there was the possibility that the overzealous guards were somehow listening in. Like his teammates had said, the Trila guards had the same training as special operatives which made things a lot trickier.

  Bastian cleared his throat in acknowledgement of Mercer’s update, but unfortunately, he didn’t think the commander would recognize it. They had a list of code words to explain hostile situations, but Bastian’s current whereabouts didn’t exactly fit the bill. He was seated in a conference room with Logan Porter, Hans Bauer, the head of Trila’s security team, and the two men that Hans had attempted to bribe.

  “Pardon me, chaps, but this truly is a misunderstanding,” Bastian said. He had already spent the last half hour explaining who he was, who Hans was, and why they had temporarily detained two guards. “Come on, you can’t possibly think that one man could wrangle these burly blokes.” Smiling, Bastian relaxed his posture as if it were all in jest and focused on Logan. “You’re pulling our leg. You set this up to have a little fun with us.”

  “What?” Logan had that panicked look on his face. “I would never do anything to jeopardize Trila.” He focused on the head of security, George Browne. “Mr. Browne, I’ve never seen this man before.” He pointed at Hans. “And this guy,” he turned his gaze to Bastian for half a second, “is assisting Mr. Mercer in finding my wife. I don’t see why they would do any of the things they’re accused of.”

  “Precisely.” Bastian smiled again, resisting the urge to wink. “We wouldn’t do anything untoward. We simply believed that these gentlemen might have insight into Mrs. Porter’s disappearance since they are extremely thorough in their protection of our pal, Logan. Isn’t that right?” He looked at the three men, who not only looked annoyed but also confused. “You are protecting him to the best of your ability, aren’t you?” No one spoke, and Bastian raised an eyebrow at them. “That is why you’re following him, isn’t it?” Still no response was forthcoming. “Why else are you following him?” Bastian narrowed his eyes, focusing on Browne.

  “It’s like you said,” Browne responded, giving the men a stern look. “However, we aren’t able to assist in your recovery since we only began to shadow Mr. Porter after his wife went missing, not before.”

  “Ahh,” Bastian nodded as if this made perfect sense, “that explains it. And it clears up any confusion and misunderstanding that might have taken place. You see, my associate was told to offer a reward for pertinent information. I apologize if that fact was somehow misconstrued, as were his intentions when he approached these lovely chaps.”

  Browne returned the saccharine smile. “Clearly.” He stood, extending his hand. “Glad that’s been cleared up. Now if you wouldn’t mind vacating the premises, we do have sensitive matters that need to be addressed.”

  “Of course.” Bastian shook his hand and waited for Hans to lead the way out of the room. “You won’t mind if I just have a brief word with Mr. Porter, will you?”

  “Not at all,” Browne said, but Bastian saw the glare just beneath the surface.

  “Excellent.” Bastian waited in the corridor for Logan, who was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. “Mr. Porter, when we phone, you will answer. We don’t have time to play games.”

  “Did Alpha make contact?” Porter asked, shifting his gaze from Bastian to Hans. He involuntarily squinted at the sight of Hans’s bloodied eye but didn’t ask how it happened.

  “Not yet. Jules needed your assistance,” Bastian said, hoping that the commander hadn’t disconnected their call. “There was something he wanted to ask you. Go ahead.”

  “Does he know where Sarina’s cell phone is?” Mercer asked, relieved that communication had resumed.

  After Bastian relayed the message, Logan furrowed his brow. “I haven’t seen it. Did you check her purse?” He pressed his lips together. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen that either. It’s usually in the kitchen.”

  “It’s gone along with her bag. Maybe the kidnappers took it with them,” Bastian restated for Mercer’s benefit. “You must know her phone number.”

  “Sure,” Logan scribbled it on the back of a business card.

  “Is that the only line she had? Nothing else dedicated to just business?” Bastian asked.

  “Not that I’m aware.” Logan glanced at the office behind them. “I need to get going. Thanks for clearing things up.” He shifted his gaze back to Hans. “Did you actually do what they said? On second thought, I don’t want to know.”

  “We’ll see you tonight at your home,” Bastian said. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

  Twenty-two

  “Is Logan unharmed?” Mercer asked. He had turned the speaker back on while he sat inside the parked car, waiting for Donovan to arrive.

  “Affirmative,” Bastian replied. “Trila had detained him, hoping he’d clarify the situation with their guards.”

  “Situation?”

  “It’s fine,” Bastian said, looking at Hans. “By the way, I found Hans. He’s a bit worse for wear, but he’ll live. So will Trila’s men. However, they didn’t buy into your brilliant scheme. Instead, they turned the tables and reported us to their boss. I have resolved the matter. Everything’s copacetic.”

  “I doubt that.” Mercer sunk lower in the seat, monitoring the area. He was situated a few blocks from the condemned building in a dilapidated garage. A few skateboarders were performing tricks on the ramp leading to the next level, and a couple was getting stoned in the corner. “I don’t recall seeing a woman’s handbag anywhere inside Porter’s home. Perhaps it was taken during the abduction in order to cover their tracks. Sarina’s private e-mail account must be how Alpha initially made contact and discovered enough personal details to abduct her. Brie provided the username. Do you think you can hack into the account?”

  “Probably, let me have it.” While driving one-handed, Bastian pantomimed taking notes, and Hans withdrew a pen and scribbled down the information. “As soon as we’re back at the flat, I’ll get started on this. We have twenty hours or less to go. If this doesn’t pan out, I don’t think you can risk anot
her run-in at Trila. I’m under the impression George Browne, which is most definitely not his real name, will shoot us on sight.”

  “I don’t have time for this when there’s a clock on procuring the protocols.” Mercer spotted Donovan slide into the garage with the stealth of a shadow. “I’ll deal with that later. Right now, we’re going to investigate the building. If we need you, we’ll call. In the meantime, do what you can. Sarina needs a miracle.”

  “Talk to god because I’m a mere mortal, and I’ve already used my allotted miracle today,” Bastian replied, disconnecting.

  “What did I miss?” Donovan asked, slipping into the back seat. “I woke up to find the place empty. Were there additional demands?”

  “No,” Mercer blew out a breath, “just a hitch in plan B.”

  “Shall we move on to plan C?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Silently, the two men left the car. Mercer stopped at a water fountain and washed the markings off his palm. Then they took a circuitous route to the abandoned building, paying close attention to the area. It was rundown. The foot traffic consisted of fringe members of society. Some were lawbreakers, and most didn’t want to be found. Mercer’s suit would have stuck out like a sore thumb had he not left the jacket in the car. He partially untucked his shirt to conceal his weapon, and at the first opportunity, he rubbed dirt down the front to blend in better. Donovan had dressed appropriately in a dark colored hoodie and jeans. Grunging down, they did their best to blend in and camouflage themselves.

  “That’s it.” Donovan jerked his chin at the building coming up on their left. It looked like an old housing project that had probably been condemned for the better part of a decade. “I noticed lights in the second and third windows.” They continued moving around the building. “Did Bastian determine who’s paying the electric bill?”