by G. K. Parks
“Quiet,” Julian whispered. Porter nodded, and Mercer released the man. “Stay in here and stay quiet.”
Hans and Bastian exchanged a quick glance and then opened the adjoining door inside Porter’s office. In the center of the wall, Bastian had drilled a small hole. He attached some fiber optic cables and spliced through the cords, hooking a tablet to the apparatus. Entering a few parameters, he continued the data search he had been conducting before Mercer’s arrival. Hans fidgeted in the corner, prepared to retaliate if the guards decided to burst into the room.
“Thought it’d be easier to go through the wall since we couldn’t get into the other room,” Bastian whispered.
“We don’t have much time,” Mercer said. “How long until they discover the intrusion?”
“Based on their patrols, we have five minutes until they find their mates unconscious in the rear guard station,” Hans said.
Focusing on Bastian, Mercer asked, “What’s taking so long?”
“I have to search through the entire network to find what we need,” Bastian growled, wiping the back of his hand over his forehead. “Shit.” He tapped a lengthy command into the tablet. “In thirty seconds, they’re going to know the system’s been breached.”
“Can’t you stop it?” Mercer asked.
“If I knew how to stop it, I would,” Bastian retorted. “Give me your cell.” Mercer handed him the device, and Bastian input a few commands then plugged it in where the tablet had been. He ripped it from the wall and tossed it back to Mercer. “It’s the best I can do, but it won’t stand up once the encryption is broken.” Bastian turned back to the tablet, seeing a red warning beacon appear on the screen. “Go. I’ll delay the system notification as long as I can. You have to get out of the building before they realize what we’ve done. We’re out of options. Just go. We can handle this.”
Mercer nodded, grabbing Porter and pulling him toward the door. He flipped the lights off, casting a final look at his team. It was unacceptable to leave them behind, but if they were all caught, no one would be able to negotiate Sarina’s release and the entire mission would be for nought.
“Can I see it?” the guard asked as soon as Porter emerged from the office.
“What?” Porter asked, confused.
“The ring,” Mercer growled. “You put it in your pocket.”
“Right.” Porter removed the item he had been carrying around since Tuesday afternoon and handed it to the guard while the group of men made their way to the lift.
Mercer pushed the button, not wanting to waste any more time. The sooner they cleared the building, the better the chances were that his men would make it out safely. He held himself stiffly to keep from fidgeting, and as soon as the doors opened, he stepped inside.
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll get stuck again?” one of the other guards mocked.
“Yes,” Mercer responded. It distracted the guards who exchanged snickers and looks, but it kept them from noticing anything else was amiss.
The doors opened again, and for once, the guard that asked Porter about the ring showed some actual human compassion. “I hope your wife’s okay,” he said. “Good luck.” He nodded at Porter and Mercer and led them to the security desk to return Mercer’s weapon.
“Thank you,” Porter said. “I know you’ve just been doing your job and trying to help. I appreciate it.”
“We need to go,” Mercer reminded him. “The call could come at any moment.” He took hold of Porter’s elbow and led him toward the front door. “Almost clear,” he whispered into his comm.
Five feet from the door, the warning claxons sounded. Rushing forward, Mercer pushed the door open, urging Porter to hurry. He saw the urgent looks on the guards’ faces. Half of them were en route to intercept Mercer, and the other half were on their way upstairs.
“Company is on the way. Get out now,” Mercer barked. He sprinted to the car, peeling away from the curb before Porter even had time to close the door. “Donovan, distract to aid their evac. Bastian, report.”
“We’re a little busy, Jules,” Bastian replied in his earpiece. A loud burst of static and shouts sounded in the background.
“Bloody fucking hell.” Hans’s voice was heard at the same time as Bastian’s. His team was trapped, and Mercer couldn’t stomach leaving them behind.
Mercer checked the mirror, finding two SUVs fast approaching from the rear. It took every ounce of willpower not to whip the car around and drive back to the Trila building. Instead, he executed a sharp turn, jumping the curb and scraping the side of the car against a building. The tires on the SUVs squealed, and the lead car missed the turn. The second vehicle closed the gap and took the lead. Mercer turned again, this time heading the wrong way on a one-way street.
Car horns blared as he darted around the oncoming traffic. Checking the mirror, the larger vehicle was forced to slow to avoid a collision, and Mercer drove into a parking garage. Going straight to the second level, he stopped the car abruptly.
“Get out,” Mercer said, already three steps toward a different car. He hit the unlock mechanism and climbed behind the wheel. “We have to move. Now.”
“What’s happening? Why are they after us?” Porter asked. “What did you do?”
“I got Alpha the damn protocols in order to save your wife.” Mercer hit the gas, exiting the garage and driving past the two SUVs that were now entering the garage. They didn’t seem to notice the departing sedan, and Mercer took a moment to breathe. “Bastian? Hans?” Normally, they used code names, but since Trila already knew who they were, it would have been a waste of time.
“They’re alive,” Donovan responded.
“Are they with you?”
“Negative.”
“I’m on my way.”
“No.”
“I’m on my way,” Mercer repeated.
“You can’t. You have to save that woman. If you come back, we might all be compromised. I promise I’ll get them out, Jules.”
“How?”
“Remember Amsterdam?”
“Bollocks,” Mercer sighed, “now you have to rescue them from Trila security and the freaking coppers.”
Twenty-seven
Mercer rubbed the stubble on his cheeks and stared at the phone. Whatever information Bastian downloaded onto the device wouldn’t hold up under much scrutiny, and without his second-in-command, he didn’t know how long it would take Alpha to break the encryption or what information he would uncover. The shit hit the fan. Half of his team was incarcerated or worse. Donovan had been providing updates as often as possible, but no news was good news. Bastian and Hans were still inside the Trila building. The police were on-site, but as far as anyone knew, Bastian and Hans were unharmed. However, their comms were down, and Mercer suspected they’d been shorted out by a taser rather than having been discovered.
Logan Porter was a wreck. From the way he was acting, one would have thought he had personally infiltrated Trila International and sabotaged the entire company. Logan paced the room, taking a moment to sit down. Then he stood abruptly, went into the bathroom, returned a few moments later, fidgeted, paced, and lingered closer to the window.
“Sit down,” Mercer snapped. “And stay away from the window.”
“I thought you said this was a safe house.”
“It will remain safe as long as no one knows we’re here. Now sit down.”
Reaching for the remote, Logan increased the volume and watched the reporter deliver breaking news on a burglary inside the Trila building. Mercer glanced at the television, knowing precisely what the talking heads would have to say. It was conjecture and a cover-up, but the flashing police lights and the magnitude of the building made for a nice dramatic backdrop to the dribble spilling from the woman’s mouth. Apparently, the news station didn’t care that it was one a.m. and no one was watching. From the looks of it, they’d be repeating the story again on the morning show. Mercer idly wondered if Alpha was watching the coverage live or if he was enjo
ying a peaceful night’s rest, content in the fact that he’d be getting precisely what he wanted in a matter of hours.
“She makes it sound like we failed,” Logan said. “What if he doesn’t bother with a follow-up communication because he thinks we’re in custody?” Mercer ignored the panicked questions until Logan grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Are you listening to this?” He pointed emphatically at the screen. “You have to do something.”
“Get your hands off of me.” The guttural growl forced Logan to cower.
“Authorities responded to a robbery in progress. The security on duty trapped the thieves inside. It is not yet clear what they intended to steal. More details will be provided as we uncover them,” the reporter said, staring into the camera.
“Rubbish.” Mercer turned off the television, slamming the remote down with enough force to snap the battery cover into pieces. He turned his gaze on Logan, and the man sunk back onto the couch. “In a couple of hours, the power dynamic will shift, and that is our one chance to rescue Sarina. Until then, we wait.”
“But what about the news story?” Logan asked timidly.
“No one gives a shit.”
Frankly, Mercer figured the fanfare and notoriety of the break-in would help sell the legitimacy of the program. He focused on the cell phone again. Normally, it didn’t matter if the ransom was legitimate or total bullshit. But his team sacrificed themselves for this, so it would have been nice to have some guarantee that it would work to dupe Alpha long enough to get Sarina clear.
“Julian,” Logan said softly, the name sounding foreign on his tongue, “my life will never be the same again. My job is over, and I’ll probably be arrested. The rest of my life might be spent behind bars. You have to make sure that this,” he pointed to the cell phone, “was worth it.”
Unable to hide the contempt, Mercer stood. “My team believed in this. So should you.”
He went into another room and slammed the door. They agreed to the mission. They took payment to provide a service. They were always aware of the risks, and getting caught by some supposed ‘good’ guys was a better alternative than getting caught by Alpha.
“Donovan, report,” Mercer said, glad that their comms were operational.
“Some police brass have shown up. Trila has deep pockets, so only the best will do.”
“Have you seen Bas or Hans?”
“Negative.”
“Are you positive that Trila’s guards didn’t open fire?”
“I’ve tapped into the police frequencies. Based on their radio chatter, two men are inside. No reports of gunfire. No calls for a coroner or ambulance have been made.”
“Roger,” Mercer replied.
“Has the kidnapper made contact?”
“Not yet.”
“Radio when he does. You’ll need back-up support.”
“I can do this alone.”
“You’re daft. That’s suicide.”
“I will not sacrifice anyone else. Is that clear?”
“Commander,” Donovan said, that smartass tone broadcasting clearly over the radio, “you fail to realize that unlike the Special Air Service, we don’t have to follow your orders.”
Mercer fumed over the comment, but it was something he knew to be true. Most of the time, he called the shots because he had the experience and rationale to back up the decisions. However, on a few occasions when he had been off the rails, Bastian or someone else would take over.
“Keep me updated,” Mercer said.
“I trust you will do the same,” Donovan replied. The two-way communication remained open, so Donovan would hear the call, just like he heard Logan Porter’s meltdown.
Had he been so inclined, Mercer would have disconnected the comm, but he needed the connection with his team. He needed to know that Bastian and Hans were okay. In some ways, he was just as powerless and frustrated as Logan. The only difference was that Sarina had been unknowingly targeted while Bastian and Hans forced the guards to target them in order to give Mercer time to escape.
“I screwed up,” Mercer whispered, hoping his mates could hear him. “I should have found a better alternative.”
Grabbing a map of the area, he picked up a pen and began to formulate ground rules for the exchange. The ideal location would limit entry points, making it less likely that an ambush could occur. It would also delay Alpha’s escape, potentially giving Mercer the ability to track him in the event Sarina wasn’t brought to the drop site. Julian knew Alpha would have something up his sleeve, but allegedly having the protocols would give Mercer some leverage. It was time he used that to his advantage to dictate his own terms. Alpha wasn’t the only one who could establish non-negotiable terms.
Twenty-eight
Several hours later, Mercer returned to the living room. Logan hadn’t moved from the couch, and Julian did a double take to make sure the man was asleep and not dead. The events of the evening might have been too much for the out of shape computer tech to handle, but the rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was breathing. At least someone was.
Picking up the cell phone, Mercer contemplated examining the data upload but decided not to risk it. Instead, he returned it to the spot on the table and sat in front of the computer screen. In his haste to relocate, he barely had time to grab the basics. The computer held the rudimentary trap and trace programs needed to identify and locate the caller. So far, Alpha had been careful, but with any luck, he’d slip up sooner rather than later.
Once the program was running, Mercer made sure the wires were properly connected and the satellite signal was strong. Then he waited. Bastian had made sure to redirect any calls that were received at the Porter residence to Mercer’s phone. If Alpha was on schedule, the call would be made in forty-three minutes.
Taking a deep breath, Mercer memorized the maps. He wanted the exchange to be in a public place but not somewhere heavily trafficked. Bystanders could get in the way, or any Tom, Dick, or Harry could be a henchman working for Alpha. Normally, Mercer would have Donovan scout ahead and Hans would be set up with a rifle on a rooftop. Since that wasn’t a possibility, Julian had to improvise.
He selected the parking lot of a local restaurant. It wasn’t on any of the main thoroughfares, and since they were closed on Thursdays, there was no danger to the public. Furthermore, it was located on a two lane street, limiting the possibility of an ambush. However, if Alpha refused to meet at this particular location, Julian had mapped out three other possibilities.
The phone rang, and Logan bolted upright. He bit his lip and stared at the ringing phone. “Is it him?”
Mercer nodded, hitting a key to start the trace before answering the call. “Alpha?”
“Do you have it?” the modulated voice asked.
“Yes.”
“Excellent. We will meet in two hours. Instructions will be delivered to Mr. Porter’s estate.”
“No.” Mercer stood, needing to alter his position to make his words more forceful. “That is not acceptable. In order to receive your protocols, you will have to agree to a location of my choosing. If you fail to comply, you get nothing.”
Porter turned puce, too overcome to speak. Mercer held up his pointer finger, hoping that his client would remain silent and not botch the negotiation.
“Amazing. I didn’t think you had a pair, let alone a set of brass ones,” Alpha mused. “I thought you were a eunuch.”
Not letting the dig goad or distract him, Mercer continued. “My demands are as follows: Sarina Porter will remain unharmed; she will be brought to the exchange; it will occur in a secluded, public area; no more than two men will be at the exchange. Is that clear?”
“Let me tell you what’s clear, Mercer,” Alpha said. “You have what I want, and I have what you want. For some reason, that makes you think that I’m willing to do your bidding. It does not. Sarina’s well-being is determined by me. Not by anyone else. You have a hacker’s wet dream. I have a person’s life in my hands. Which do you thi
nk is more valuable?”
“It depends.” Mercer could play the game. He was as cold and calculating as any other son of a bitch. “Frankly, neither one means shit to me.”
“Really?”
Mercer swallowed, knowing he’d misspoken. “This is a job. It is not personal. I’m negotiating an exchange. Neither bartering chip should be delivered in an unsatisfactory condition. Is that understood?”
“Spoken like a true negotiator.” Alpha paused. “Fine, I’ll accept the terms of the exchange, but you will deliver the item personally. And you will come alone. No wires. No trackers. No police. Is that clear?”
“Absolutely.”
“I will call again in one hour with the delivery time.”
“Okay.”
“And one more thing, if you try anything, I’ll kill her.”
The call abruptly ended, and Mercer shut his eyes, allowing the information to process. Alpha agreed to his terms. Was it too easy? Something about the call didn’t sit well with Julian, but he couldn’t figure out why. Perhaps, it was the predicament of his team or the hysterical man that was peppering him with a million questions.
“We wait,” Mercer said, ignoring everything that Logan was saying. “Alpha has an hour to change the play. We can’t count on any certainties just yet.”
Picking up the earpiece, Mercer slipped it back into his ear to update Donovan on the situation. As he suspected, Donovan had been paying attention and had heard the call come through via their comms. It was nice that technology was on their side for once.
“Where’s the exchange taking place?” Donovan asked.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m to go alone.”
“Bollocks.”
“Alpha will call again in an hour. Until then, nothing is set in stone.”
“Do you expect him to alter the meet or the terms?” Donovan asked.
Mercer stole a glance at Logan who was now in the kitchen, searching the cabinets for something hard to ease his apprehension. “Alpha likes demonstrating his power, so he’ll do something to prove he’s in charge.”