by G. K. Parks
Julian cleared his throat, but the reunited couple paid him no heed. “Are you sure we’re secure?”
“We’re shorthanded. Being in public with already established security measures is our safest bet,” Donovan said. “I’ve tapped into the hotel’s camera feed.” Mercer glanced at the hole in the wall and the wires that had been spliced and reattached.
“Bastian would have hacked their system.”
“This works just as well.”
Mercer sighed. He glanced at the two lovebirds. Based on looks alone, they didn’t fit as a couple, but the sentiment seemed genuine. Shaking off the melancholia, Mercer focused on their problem.
“We need the rest of our team. With Alpha on the loose, we can’t leave them exposed.”
“I agree.” Donovan handed Mercer a business card. “I found a solicitor. She’s supposedly one of the best, but I haven’t contacted her yet.”
“That will take too long.”
“I spent the night calling in favors in order to free your arse from an embassy bomb shelter. We don’t have the manpower or resources to break them out of the local prison,” Donovan protested.
“Trila has the resources. We need to convince them to drop the charges and call off their dogs,” Mercer said. He looked at Logan Porter who hadn’t moved from the spot near the doorway. “We have to present Trila International with something substantial.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Let’s give them Alpha.” Mercer inhaled, testing his pain threshold. A shooting pain joined the constant dull ache, but it was manageable at the moment. He checked the time. “I need a few hours.”
“Of course,” Donovan said, taking a seat at the desk in the main room of the suite. “The bedroom to the left is yours.”
“Sarina will need supplies,” Mercer added as an afterthought.
“I’ll take care of it,” Donovan assured. Normally, they would do an immediate debrief and exchange the pertinent information, so the fact that Mercer wanted to rest before getting to work wasn’t a good sign. But Donovan knew better than to inquire about the commander’s condition.
“I want an updated dossier on Alpha. Everything we have. And I want specifics about where we were held. Who were those men that assisted in our escape?”
“Former military intelligence that I helped in Bosnia. They’re now diplomatic attachés.”
“Spies?” Mercer shook his head. “Add it to the file.”
“What about your intel?” Donovan asked.
“Sarina can answer your questions.” Mercer went past the couple, finally gaining their attention. “You’re safe, but this isn’t over. Help us.”
“Anything,” Logan said. “I can’t thank you enough.” He held out his hand, and they shook.
“You kept your word,” Sarina whispered. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying.
“Always.” Mercer went into the bedroom and shut the door.
Opening the drawers, he found the lockbox, entered the code, and removed a handgun. Alpha had taken his Sig and back-up, but the team never traveled light on weaponry. After checking the clip, he placed it on the bedside table and eased onto the mattress. Taking a few more painkillers, he shut his eyes. Eventually, everything became a quiet hum until his thoughts turned to Alpha and the mission.
Balling the covers in his fists while he let the last twenty-four hours wash over him, Mercer realized one thing; Alpha let him live. No one could make a perfect shot and then hit a glancing blow. It wasn’t a fluke. It had been intentional. Whatever Alpha planned wasn’t over yet.
* * *
“Where are they?” Mercer asked, returning to the main room.
Donovan had opened the pullout and blinked a few times. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and tossed a glance at the closed door to the other bedroom. “Getting reacquainted, I would imagine.” He pointed to the desk in the corner. “I updated the dossier. I don’t like how this reads. However, you rescued the damsel in distress. I believe that makes this a job well done.”
“We aren’t done. Alpha hasn’t given up on getting the protocols.” Mercer picked up a duffel bag and rummaged through the contents for the RF reader. After performing another quick scan, he was reassured that Alpha didn’t leave them with any unwanted trackers. “That’s why he didn’t kill me.”
“Maybe you’re just lucky.”
“Rubbish.” Flipping through the dossier, Mercer read the newly updated information.
“I’d wager Alpha’s a diplomat or someone with diplomatic immunity. It would explain the lack of information and the targets of his previous kidnappings. Normal people don’t have access to royalty, even an unknown duke and duchess. Based on the information Hans received from his contacts and our assumption that our kidnapper and theirs is one in the same, he must travel in those circles.”
“Call a duck a duck,” Mercer said, getting agitated by the conjecture and uncertainty. “Alpha held us inside the Austrian embassy.”
“He must be part of the inner workings. It’d be necessary for him to have access to the basement and the antiquated bomb shelter.” Donovan folded the mattress into the sofa and straightened the cushions. “Johann said no one has used the bomb shelter in decades. Initially, it was a secure bunker in case of attack, but they’ve installed panic rooms and other modern security protections. Until last night, he thought the door to the subbasement had been sealed.”
“Why would Johann let you break into his embassy?” Mercer asked.
“It isn’t exactly his mother country.” Donovan shrugged. “Be thankful I called in a chit on your behalf.” Donovan flipped on the television to a news station, but there was no mention of Trila, the embassy, or anything related to the kidnapping. “Alpha must know you’ve escaped. He’ll probably realize you had help.”
“I’m aware.” Mercer sifted through the pile of documents again, but it was old news. Sarina should know more than what Donovan noted; however, she had mostly recounted what had happened after Mercer’s arrival. “We’ve burned most of our disposables. Are we able to receive incoming communications?”
Donovan went into the kitchenette and poured a cup of cold coffee. Picking up a cell phone, he scrolled through some information and brought it back into the living room. “It’d be bloody ballsy of him to phone after everything that’s happened.”
“He’s desperate, and he believes we’re in possession of the object of his desire. He doesn’t have a choice.”
“Not to state the obvious, but what the bloody hell can be so important? And if this thing is that important, someone needs to do something to keep this psychotic wanker from getting his grubby paws on it.”
“Contact the police. Make sure no one with diplomatic ties has been vying for the release of Bastian and Hans. We rescued Sarina. Alpha needs new leverage, and he’ll want it to be personal.” Julian went to the closed door and banged against it. “Mr. Porter, we leave in fifteen minutes. Don’t dawdle.”
“Alpha would have to be bloody mad to march into a police station, intent on finding new captives, and he’d have to be fucking out of his mind to think that Bastian and Hans couldn’t put him down, even unarmed.” Donovan studied Mercer’s expression for a time. “You’re worried.”
“He’s been trained. So have his associates.” Mercer flipped through the information on Trila’s security personnel. “I need a list of former employees. We’re looking for a Dane, six foot two, roughly one hundred and eighty pounds, probably a Jaeger, served in Afghanistan, blond, blue eyes, what you’d expect.”
“Deceased?” Donovan asked.
“As of yesterday.”
“But if he worked for Trila, why wouldn’t he have stolen the protocols for Alpha?” Donovan asked.
Logan and Sarina emerged from the room. She smiled at Julian and ducked into the kitchenette while Logan listened to the tail end of the conversation.
“Where are we going?” Logan asked.
“To make amends,” Mercer replie
d.
Thirty-six
“You have two minutes to explain why I shouldn’t have you arrested right now,” George Browne said.
Instead of meeting inside the Trila building, Mercer phoned ahead, offering to turn himself in if Browne was willing to meet him outside. At first, the head of Trila’s security wasn’t interested, but after listening to Logan express his heartfelt appreciation that the company hired Mercer on his behalf, the head of security had a change of heart. Either the implied threat of blackmail worked, or Browne was relieved that Mercer wasn’t attempting to storm the offices again.
“I don’t know what business you’re in, and I don’t care. I do know that your latest computer system and the related data are highly valued,” Mercer said. “You’re not a fool. You are aware that my team did not take your property.”
“You tried,” Browne argued. “You entered the building under false pretenses, assaulted members of my staff, destroyed property, and attempted a burglary. The success of which is not relevant in the least.”
“It’s highly relevant.” Mercer hid his scowl. “The man responsible for kidnapping Mrs. Porter remains at large. He is desperate to obtain this information.”
“That’s true,” Logan said. “Sarina’s afraid for her life. Mine too. We can’t go on like this. You have to do something.”
“We offered you help. We provided you security. We hired this pain in the ass,” Browne looked pointedly at Mercer, “and you betrayed us.”
“This isn’t about betrayal,” Mercer said. “Trila’s security is your problem. The safety of your employees and their families is your problem. You ought to take this threat seriously.”
“You’re the biggest threat that I see,” Browne yelled.
“So call the police.” Mercer sat back. “Just know, I will talk to every reporter, solicitor, and officer I can find and tell them precisely how Trila protects its employees.”
“No one will believe you. You’ll be discredited. A madman caught red-handed who wants nothing more than to save his own skin,” Browne argued.
“What about me?” Logan asked. It was the bravest thing he’d said to date, and Mercer was glad that his client was willing to follow through with their plan. “And my wife? Will we be as easily discredited?”
“You helped him. It’s coercion. A conspiracy. You’re all nuts,” Browne insisted.
“Wake up,” Julian growled. “Blaming my team won’t get you any closer to tracking the real threat. You know this. Your people should be aware of this.” Mercer watched the truth register in Browne’s eyes. The man wanted to pretend that the threat was removed, but he knew that wasn’t the case. “As a show of good faith, I’m going to share information with you. It is my belief that a former employee provided the kidnapper with information about Trila’s property and assisted in designing the scheme to obtain it.”
“Who?” Browne asked.
Mercer checked his phone. Donovan was working on the profiles, but he wasn’t Bastian. Thankfully, Bastian had accessed the Trila employee database prior to his incarceration, so it was a matter of finding the pertinent records for former employees. Right now, Julian needed a name, but he didn’t have it yet. Luckily, he had become an expert at stalling.
“Will you agree to drop the charges against my team and reinstate Logan Porter’s position at the company?” Mercer asked.
Even though Browne wasn’t able to directly hire or fire someone, his position afforded him the ear of those in charge. Porter had been deemed a threat and was facing termination in addition to criminal charges dependent on Browne’s assessment.
“Let me think about it,” Browne said. He checked his watch. “Stay close. I’ll give you an answer in an hour.”
Once Browne returned to the Trila building, Mercer sent a text to Donovan, urging him to hurry. This new theory was nothing more than a hunch, but Mercer was counting on it. Unfortunately, they had another ticking clock to worry about.
“So we just wait?” Porter asked. He fidgeted uncomfortably. “Do we have to stay here?”
“Yes.”
Porter let out an audible sigh. “Okay.”
“She’s safe. Donovan won’t let anything else happen to her,” Mercer said, reading his client’s mind.
“Are you sure? I barely had any time with her. What happens if Browne calls the cops on us?”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I do.”
“But how?”
“Because he knows we’re right.”
“He said that we were to blame. That we’re nuts. That…”
“Quiet.” Julian shifted and winced at the sudden stabbing pain in his side. He unbuttoned his shirt to make sure he hadn’t bled through the bandage.
“Sorry.” Logan turned to face Julian. “I’m sorry for what they did to you.” His eyes shifted to the damage to Mercer’s face which was nothing compared to what Logan couldn’t see. “Sarina told me how you saved her. She said you were nearly killed, and that Alpha shot you.”
“Silence,” Mercer ordered. He didn’t need to rehash these things with a civilian. He’d already discussed them with Donovan at length and reached his own internal peace. Softening, he added, “I know the risks. This is not uncommon. It need not concern you.”
“Assuming Browne agrees to your terms, my life will be back on track,” Porter said, changing the subject. “You brought Sarina home, and you’re still willing to put your life on the line for us. How can I repay you?”
“Our fee has been paid by your insurance.”
“That’s not what I meant. I want to do something for you or Bastian or whoever.”
A puzzled look emerged on Mercer’s face, and he cocked his head to the side. Logan Porter had been a hindrance, a threat, and an otherwise difficult client. It wasn’t uncommon to receive gratitude after a positive recovery was made, but he never pegged Logan as the type to show it.
“If you mean it, tell me about your business associate.”
“What associate? You mean Browne?” Logan asked, but Mercer saw the recognition and guilt on Logan’s face. “He’s the head of security.”
“Fine.” Mercer leaned back, feeling the weight of a handgun on his hip. It was reassuring to have a weapon and feel in control again. “Did Donovan inform you where Sarina was being kept?”
“No.” Logan continued to look uneasy.
“In the subbasement of an embassy.” Mercer narrowed his eyes. “Would you like to reconsider your previous answer?”
A shiver traveled down Porter’s spine, and for a moment, he looked like he might pass out. “I was afraid. He led me to believe he’d kill her.” Mercer waited for Porter’s mumbling and denial to wear itself out. Eventually, he shook his head. “I don’t know his name. He met me at work Thursday, right after Sarina was taken. My head was in a fog. I don’t remember much from that day other than the fear.” Porter shook off the memory. “The head of sales introduced us, but I didn’t catch a name. They acted so chummy, like they knew each other for years. It wasn’t until a few days later that I found out that they just met. This guy wanted us to engineer a secure system for their mobile devices. With all the hacking of government e-mails and celebrity nudie photos, it sounded reasonable.”
“You aren’t a programmer,” Mercer pointed out.
“No, but I am the numbers guy. I gave him a ballpark figure for what it would cost, the types of security our programmers could design, and estimated how long it would take. He said he’d get back to me. Saturday afternoon, he phones my boss, insisting that we had a meeting scheduled. I got chewed out, and somehow, this guy shows up at my house.”
“How did he find out where you lived?”
“At first, I thought someone at Trila told him, but,” Porter licked his lips, “he walked into my home like he’d been there before. Something felt wrong. He was obsessed with our wedding photo. He asked where Sarina was. I said she was out, and he said it’d be a shame if she never
came back.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Mercer growled.
“He knew things. He came into my home. He…he made it sound like he would kill her if I said anything.”
“Precisely what did he say?”
Porter shrugged. “I don’t know. The thing about her never coming back and how he hoped we could do business in the future. Nothing direct. That night, you showed up in the middle of the meeting, and I was so twisted around at that point, that I thought maybe I was projecting my fears onto this guy. A stranger in my home, asking about my wife. Maybe he was just being polite or something.”
Fighting the urge to point out that Alpha might have been stopped days sooner, Mercer swallowed his words, instead asking, “What did he look like?”
“He was tall and in shape with glasses and brown hair, I think. He should be on the footage from my security system. Didn’t you review that data?”
“Unfortunately not. We downloaded the data from your system that morning. Will Trila security be able to provide an image of this ambassador?” Mercer asked, feeling as if his team were just as blameworthy for not taking the initiative sooner.
“He wasn’t an ambassador. He was an attaché or consultant or something. He didn’t have a discernible accent or anything.” Porter glanced at the Trila building. “I asked about him when I returned to work on Monday, but no one seemed particularly sure of this guy’s credentials or background. Someone thought his name was Geoff. Another guy thought Adam. It’s like we weren’t even talking about the same man.”
“It was intentional to confuse details. Witnesses are often unreliable,” Mercer said. “Let’s see what Browne has to say. Maybe he’ll be amenable to doing us another favor.”
Thirty-seven
“You look like dog shit someone stepped in,” Bastian said.
“Have you looked in the mirror recently?” Mercer retorted. He shifted his focus from Bastian to Hans. “Are the two of you done mucking about?”