by G. K. Parks
“Like we’d be entering witness protection or something?” Logan asked, realizing the extent of their departure.
“Sure,” Hans said. “Which won’t be a small feat. However, if our intel pans out, we might identify Zed and nothing has to change.”
“What’s the chance of that?” Sarina asked. The topic had sobered her, and she was anxious for an answer.
“We’ll know soon,” Hans reassured.
Sarina gripped her husband’s arm. “We’ll talk about it later.” She looked at the time, wondering where the day had gone. “Let’s go to bed,” she said. “I’m tired.” She forced a tight smile onto her face “Good night.”
“Night,” Hans said, and Mercer gave them a nod. Once the bedroom door closed, Hans leaned closer to Mercer. “Do you think they’ll decide to leave?”
“It depends.” Mercer shifted on the couch. “Logan would go. He’d do anything for her. It will be her decision.”
“They’ll go,” Hans said. “She’s made it extremely obvious that she wants to leave this behind.”
“They don’t have many friends or close ties,” Mercer mused. “It wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice. She could start her own business again elsewhere and without that ditzy assistant.”
“Shall I have documents ready for their departure?” Hans asked. The team had connections to obtain fake passports and new identities when the situation warranted it.
“Go ahead and have them drawn up, but we’ll wait on the photos. Bastian has something up his sleeve.” Mercer noticed the late hour, wondering what was taking Bastian and Donovan so long.
“I’m on it,” Hans declared, taking a seat at the desk. He hit a few keys, and Mercer shut his eyes to contemplate what Bastian could have possibly hoped to gain by visiting some drug dealer’s den.
Forty-three
When Julian opened his eyes, it was daylight. Bastian was at the table, enjoying an omelet from a foam container. Sarina and Logan were sharing a bagel, and the chatter seemed light and easy. Grunting, Mercer sat up.
“Nice to see you’re back among the living,” Bastian said. “I planned to poke you with a stick if you didn’t wake up soon.” Rubbing his eyes, Mercer looked at the clock. He’d been out for over twelve hours. “You shouldn’t drink when you’ve lost that much blood, mate. It’s not smart.”
“How did last night go?” Mercer asked.
“It went,” Donovan said. “We’re working on it.”
“Got it.” Obviously, they didn’t want to share their intel in front of the Porters. “Hans?”
“He’s asleep, but unlike you, he waited until after we returned before knocking off.” Bastian grinned. He was in a cheeky mood which might have been an improvement from yesterday if it wasn’t irritating the shit out of Julian.
“We’ve come to a decision,” Logan declared. “We want to leave. Staying here is foolish. I can’t put her at risk.” He shook his head, pressing his lips together and giving his wife’s hand a squeeze. “Nothing is worth that kind of torment. So how do we do this? How soon can we leave?”
“It’ll take a few days. Possibly a week,” Bastian said. “The priority is making sure that you disappear without a trace.”
“What about our things?” Sarina asked.
“You can’t take everything, love,” Bastian said. “But the important items shouldn’t be a problem. Most times, those are the sentimental trinkets. Just remember, the majority of your material possessions can be replaced.”
She nodded. “Do we make a list?”
“It’s about time you return home,” Mercer said. He rubbed his eyes, hoping to shake off the headache. “We’ll make the move this evening.” Bastian and Donovan agreed, and Mercer left the kitchenette to shower and prepare for another long day.
When Julian returned, their clients were planted in the middle of the suite, aimlessly flipping through channels while discussing what knickknacks warranted saving. They were currently arguing about a commemorative plate that had belonged to Logan’s grandmother. The security specialists were huddled together in the back bedroom, discussing the intel that Hans had received and the progress Bastian had made.
Bastian put his finger to his lips before Julian could utter a word. Giving the doorway a quick glance to make sure they were alone, Bastian handed him a folder. Inside were photographs of Alpha, along with a list of known aliases. While the man traveled as a diplomatic attaché or a member of the support staff for the Austrian government, it was abundantly clear he was involved in clandestine operations.
“Our kidnapper was one of the good guys,” Hans said, putting the word good in air quotes. “He worked black ops for his government, obtained valuable intel, conducted illicit trades, and who knows what else. However, I’m guessing his loyalties ended when he realized he could make ten times what the Austrian government was paying him by pursuing his own ventures on the side.”
“His superiors knew and did nothing?” Mercer asked, his voice low and gravelly.
“I don’t know.” Hans shrugged. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s pushing daisies.”
“What about Zed? Is he another operative or a sleeper?” Mercer asked.
“From the looks of this, Alpha worked alone.”
“Bollocks.” Mercer handed the folder back to Hans and gave the doorway an odd look. They hadn’t made any real progress other than to verify their assumptions. “Why the secrecy?”
Bastian produced a damaged button camera. It was tiny and would have been difficult to spot, but the green light that Mercer saw following the explosion had been a reflection from the lens. The item had been disassembled, and the small internal chip that broadcast the feed was plugged into Bastian’s computer.
“I’ve pulled the IP address and have conducted a reverse trace. Whoever’s on that network is active.”
“We should move,” Mercer said.
“No,” Bastian shook his head, “the trace links back to the Porters’ estate. I’d guess they’re piggybacking off the Porters’ internal system. We suspected a breach with the missing seconds of footage prior to Sarina’s abduction. Someone must still be connected.”
“How do we find them?” Mercer asked.
“We need to be back on the property. They must be close. Once there, I might be able to triangulate where the usage drain is coming from directionally.”
Mercer’s brow furrowed. “English.”
“He can use this as a divining rod to point us in the proper direction,” Donovan said. “However, it won’t do much more than that.”
“You said whoever hacked their system had to be close,” Mercer recalled. “Does that mean Zed’s on the property?”
“It might, or it might mean one of them left a device behind.” Bastian shrugged. “It’s worth a look, but what about our clients?”
“Hans, Donovan, scout ahead. Use infrared or thermal if necessary to make sure the house is secure. Once it is, we’ll join you.”
“Yes, sir,” Hans said. Shouldering a bag with the necessary equipment, Hans and Donovan quietly exited the suite.
“I don’t think he’s there,” Bastian said.
“It won’t matter. We need the Porters to return to their normal routine until we can get them out of the country. It’s time they go home.”
* * *
“Park wherever the hell you want,” Logan said when Mercer pulled to a stop at the front door. Donovan and Hans had left their SUV on the cobblestone path, and Mercer expected that his client would throw a fit. “This house was a dream. A symbol of what I achieved. I wanted it to be pristine, untainted, picture perfect because we were living the idyllic life.”
“That dream was shattered,” Sarina whispered. She peered out the window at her home. “Are you sure we’re safe here?”
Bastian plastered a reassuring smile on his face. “Of course, love. Nothing to fret over.”
“Julian?” she asked uncertainly.
“We’re here. We’re not leaving.” Mercer got
out of the car and opened the back door. “Come on.” He jerked his chin at the house, and reluctantly, she stepped out of the vehicle.
As if on cue, Hans opened the front door, ushering them inside. “Place is clean.”
“I should hope so,” Logan replied, the haughty tone back in his voice.
“I’ll take a looksy around,” Bastian said, disappearing after Hans.
Donovan lingered near the back door. His rifle was propped against the wall, and his side arm was visible in his thigh holster. He nodded to Julian but remained silent, allowing the Porters to get reacclimated to their home.
Eventually, Sarina dropped onto the couch in the living room, letting out a sigh. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. For the first time since the rescue, she appeared truly relaxed. Even when they’d been slightly inebriated while sharing a pizza, she had remained tense, like a wound coil, but now, she let her guard down. Logan puttered around the kitchen, keeping one eye on his wife the entire time. After making a platter of sandwiches, he joined her on the couch.
“I can’t get enough of you,” Logan whispered. “I wish I could sleep with my eyes open just to make sure you were beside me.”
Donovan glanced at Julian. Keeping his voice low, he said, “If this keeps up, I’m likely to shoot myself in the head.”
“Go, see how Bastian is faring.” As soon as the perimeter was secure, they wouldn’t have to remain in such close proximity to the reunited couple.
Five minutes later, Donovan returned. “All clear.” He smiled brightly at them. “Stay inside. Avoid the windows. And everything else will fall into place. You’re safe here.”
“Thank you.” Sarina practically bounced off the couch. “I want to take a nice long soak in our tub.” It seemed she wanted to be away from her husband just as badly as the former SAS.
“Help yourselves to the sandwiches,” Logan said. He surveyed the room. “On a normal day, I’d be finalizing a report for work or going to some meeting. I’m not sure what to do now. It’s strange. Everything looks the same, but it’s all so different.” He picked up a Lucite award he’d received from Trila. “I guess I can start sorting through this junk. We only have a week to figure it out. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Use your best judgment,” Donovan said.
“Like I did when I let that psycho into my house?” Logan asked, his tone angry.
“Stop.” Mercer slammed his palm against the sofa. “It’s done. You can only move forward.” Making sure his earpiece was functioning, he nodded to Donovan. “I’m going to give Bastian a hand. Signal if there’s trouble.” Quickly, Mercer walked out of the room before Logan could say or do something else that he would find infuriating.
Upon entering the dining room, Mercer could hear Bastian’s voice from two rooms away. Continuing through the house, he found Bastian and Hans inside Logan’s home office.
“Dammit,” Bastian cursed, “it’s gone.” He tapped a few keys, checked his connection strength, and picked up the device. “The signal’s gone. It just blinked out. Literally, five minutes ago, it vanished.”
“Whoever’s using the system knows we’re here,” Hans said. “I’m gonna have a chat with the guards posted at the gate.”
Mercer nodded, and Hans exited through the back door, hoping to use the element of surprise to his advantage. In the event the men that Trila hired to guard the estate were cooperating with Zed, it’d be best to find out posthaste. In the meantime, Bastian hardwired his computer to the Porters’ system in order to monitor usage activity.
“Someone must know we’re here.”
“Let them come,” Mercer said. “We’ll be ready.”
Forty-four
Three days passed, and nothing occurred. No additional threats were made. The signal Bastian hoped to find would flicker on and off occasionally, but it never lasted long enough to allow for triangulation. Will Franco and Thomas Redding, the men stationed at the front gate, proved to be uninvolved, so Mercer assigned them the task of monitoring the exterior cameras. He didn’t know if he could trust them completely, but it was an additional set of eyes. In the event the property was breached, the question of their involvement would finally be answered.
After briefing the Porters on how they should act while the necessary travel documentation was being created, Sarina returned to her office to put things to rest. She informed Brie that after what occurred, it’d be best if they took a few weeks off to recover. Brie agreed happily. Her tossed apartment and overprotective boyfriend were all the incentive she needed.
Logan Porter returned to Trila with Donovan in tow. Hans and Bastian couldn’t stand the thought of being anywhere in the vicinity of that wretched building, and Sarina had insisted that Mercer remain close to guard her. She had a fondness for the commander after what they endured together in the subbasement of the embassy.
Meeting upon meeting ensued. Logan was welcomed back and questioned as to his loyalty and involvement. He stuck to the script, making sure that no one at Trila knew of his impending departure. The company continued its internal investigation, limiting his job duties and role until they were positive that he and his cohorts hadn’t absconded with any sensitive materials. However, his boss promised that he wouldn’t be demoted and that this was company policy and assured him it was temporary.
After enduring another performance evaluation, Logan returned to his office, surprised to find Sarina and Mercer inside. Donovan was seated in the corner of the room, listening to a book on tape. Logan dropped into his chair, amused by the absurdity that had become his life.
“What are you doing here?” Logan asked.
“I just gave Brie two weeks off,” Sarina said, repeating her cover for anyone that might be listening. “I can’t focus on work right now. I wanted to see you.”
“Here I am. I can’t wait for this week to be over. I never realized just how intrusive this job can be and how much I miss you.” He glanced out the opened door at his assistant who was obviously eavesdropping.
“Can you come home for lunch?” Sarina asked.
“Definitely. Maybe I’ll make it a half day. It won’t hurt, right?”
“Under the circumstances, I think it should be fine. Tell whoever that your wife insists.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Logan grinned, collecting his things.
Mercer led the way out of the office, nodding at the two Trila security guards that were waiting outside. Things had changed drastically since the head of security was bending over backward to keep Julian on his side. Mercer was painfully aware that George Browne’s vast power and resources had fallen short of identifying Alpha and his accomplices. Browne wanted the former SAS to do the heavy lifting for him, and at the moment, it was beneficial to let the man believe they were cooperating.
The ride home involved additional planning and debate on what the Porters needed for their departure. Their cover identities had been created, but the passports hadn’t arrived yet. Along with their travel documentation, they had to get credit cards under their new names and a reasonable background established. In another two or three days, everything would be set.
Upon returning home, Logan went upstairs to change. Donovan went to see what Bastian and Hans were working on, so Mercer followed Sarina into the kitchen. She was rooting through the refrigerator, looking for something to eat. As she pulled containers out of the fridge, giving some of them a sniff and tossing the spoiled contents into the trash, Mercer noticed the full block of knives on the counter next to her cell phone.
“When did you and Logan meet?” Mercer asked.
“Almost five years ago. I never expected our life together to turn into this.”
“Obviously.”
Something didn’t feel right. He continued to make small talk, urging her to continue speaking while he did a quick check of the area. In order to avoid causing her alarm, he sent a text to Bastian, asking for the status of the home. When he received an “all clear” in return, he examined
the knife set.
“I see you found the knife,” Mercer said.
“Yeah,” she shrugged, “I came across it the other day when I was cleaning out the drawers.”
“You came across it?”
“Yes.” She gave him a confused look. “Logan can be so anal about things. I’m surprised he didn’t say something.”
“Odd.” Mercer moved around the kitchen island. “We were under the impression that the knife was used to subdue you.”
“No.” She shook her head, turning away.
“Sorry, we must have been mistaken.” Mercer spotted her opened purse on the counter and another cell phone inside. “How did they get you to comply?”
“They broke in and grabbed me.” Her voice was low and angry.
“That was it? You didn’t fight?” Reaching into her bag, he picked up her phone, turning it on. It was an oddity for a civilian to possess an encrypted phone. Entering the override code for that model, the phone unlocked, and he saw the text he had sent to Donovan. Continuing to examine the device, he opened the private e-mail account. Scanning the sent messages, he saw the encoded replies that had been written.
“Of course, I fought.” She turned with a snarl, seeing him with her phone. “That’s mine.”
“Are you sure?”
“It was in my bag. Put it back.”
Placing the phone on the counter, Mercer gave her a look. “Brie told us about your private e-mails. Does your husband know about them?”
“You think I’m cheating on Logan?” She stared at him. “If I were, why would I be willing to give up everything and escape with him?”
Mercer contemplated the facts, but he had reached an unsettling conclusion. She lunged for her phone, and he pulled his Sig. “Don’t move.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she screamed. “You must be working for them.”