For someone who supposedly wanted to rob or blow up the gold, the guy wasn’t acting like it.
“Negatory on downstairs,” he said after returning to the lobby. “Nothing odd.”
“Mr. Clean sighting heading down hall on ninth floor,” TJ reported. “Wearing FRP uniform as well. He removed the cap, and my computer spotted the tattoo.”
“On it,” Bella stated. “I’m closest.”
Archer entered the nearest stairwell and took them two at a time on his sprint up to the fifth floor to take over watching the imposter, who was the only one in the two-man office today. “We need him alive, Bella. We need answers.”
“Roger that,” she said. “TJ, what room?”
“Was in 908, but is now entering men’s room,” TJ replied. “Of which I have eyes on, thanks to Archer/Matteo recon earlier this week.”
Placing cameras in bathrooms fell far down on Archer’s list of fun things to do. He entered the fifth floor and walked down the hall to resume Bella’s post near a water cooler.
“Entering,” Bella said, underlying excitement in her tone. “Excuse me, sir. We need to talk.”
A click sounded through the comm link.
“She just locked the door.” TJ chuckled. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Archer clenched his jaw. He hated waiting. And not having eyes on.
“Hey...dude...what the?” Shock lifted Bella’s tone a second before a scuffle sounded, followed by a thud. “Ah...TJ, you get that?”
A sigh rustled through the comms. “Yeah...that was crazy.”
“You okay, Bella?” Matteo asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “But Mr. Clean is now Mr. Dead.”
Shit.
Archer barely swallowed that one down. “What happened?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Bella insisted.
This time Archer didn’t bother to hold back his snort. That statement and Bella didn’t fit.
“It’s true,” TJ said. “The guy pulled a pill out of his pocket then swallowed it like he was in the cold war era and keeled over dead.”
“I tried to stop him, but he was too far away.” Bella sighed. “Checking his pockets now.”
Archer waited for what felt like years before she continued.
“Nothing, except a cylindrical metal keychain that doesn’t give me the warm and fuzzies,” she said. “He doesn’t have a wallet or even any loose change. TJ, get a still shot of this keychain and run it.”
“Done...shit,” the hacker muttered. “It’s a bomb.”
“Bella, be careful, don’t jumble it,” Matteo said, concern tight in his voice. “I’m on my way up.”
Archer’s pulse raced almost as fast as his mind. If one of them had a bomb, so could the other. He strode across the break room. It was time to get answers.
“Why do I have the feeling the fake Jimmy has one, too?” Sandy asked, her voice full of concern.
“I’m heading there to check now,” Archer said, halting by the door as a group of people walked in, blocking his exit. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing his way through in time to see the imposter take a cylindrical keychain out of his pocket and set it in the top drawer of his desk before he stood.
With a crowd in the break room and several people in the hall, Archer decided not to pull his gun. Instead, he entered the office without a sound, snuck up behind the imposter, and in a swift move, grabbed the man by the back of the head and slammed his face straight down into the other desk. Twice.
For Rodrigo.
Then he cuffed the groaning, bleeding man before the guy’s mind had a chance to register what had happened.
“Damn...nice moves, Archer,” TJ said.
He searched the dazed man’s pockets, finding a lone pill, Jimmy’s ID badge, no wallet, or loose change like Mr. Clean, and a gun with a silencer. Archer wondered how the guy had gotten it past security.
Didn’t matter. It was in Archer’s possession now. And ballistics would most likely match it to Rodrigo’s wounds. With extra care, he opened the top drawer of Jimmy’s desk and spotted the keychain. “TJ, what did you dig up about these bombs?”
“Consulting someone now,” the hacker said.
Archer had come across something similar once, during an op in Bangladesh. “Matteo, you upstairs with Bella? That keychain look familiar to you?”
“Yes, and yes,” his buddy said. “Bangladesh.”
He blew out a breath. “Are your dots connected?” There were three tiny dots. Two on the stationary top portion and one on the middle that held a highly dangerous liquid explosive, but not enough to blow up half the building.
Were there more? What exactly was this group up to?
“No. They’re not connected,” Matteo said. “We must’ve caught him before he’d had the chance to arm it.”
Archer exhaled and nodded. “Good. Unfortunately, this one is.” And he knew the imposter would lie if asked, so they weren’t going that route.
In Bangladesh, a twist to the right deactivated the bomb, and to the left detonated it, if they did nothing, it would detonate by remote.
“Barb worked several bomb details,” Sandy said. “I can call her.”
He shook his head as if she could see him. “No. Thanks. I’d rather not involve DHS, if we can help it. Sorry.”
A sigh rustled through the comm. “I understand.”
Matteo walked into the room, glanced at the unconscious, bleeding man slumped against the wall, and raised a brow. Archer shrugged.
“But if you’re at all unsure we need to call her,” Sandy said. “Or call someone.”
“I’m ninety percent sure it’s left to deactivate and right to detonate.” He contemplated taking the keychain to the water and tossing it in, but the walk was too far and he had no idea what, if anything, might set it off on the way. “What about you, Matteo?”
“Same,” his buddy replied.
“That’s not a hundred, Archer.” Concern deepened Sandy’s tone.
“But Jameson is,” TJ said, talking about his boss and Archer’s very capable, lethal, knowledgeable buddy. “I sent him the video and he said turn to the left.”
If Jameson Knight told him to the left, then it was to the left. So Archer reached into the draw for the bomb, sent up a silent prayer just in case, and twisted it to the left. “Done.”
He exhaled and slumped against the desk.
“Well, now...all things considered, this is a nice consolation prize.” A familiar voice sounded in the background of someone’s com and stopped Archer’s heart.
He stiffened, and his whole body felt the utter stillness, right down to his skipped heartbeat.
It was him.
The voice from Munich. The bomber.
Knowing he hadn’t heard it in real time, Archer glanced across the room at Matteo to see who was near the man, eager to lay eyes on the goddamn bomber after all these years. But the area was vacant, and no one was behind him in the hallway. Matteo met his gaze and shook his head.
Shit.
The boss was not on their floor.
“I just heard the dude’s voice,” TJ said.
“Bella? You got eyes on him?” he asked. The target must be upstairs with her.
“I’m making my way down to you guys,” she said over the com. “I heard him, too.”
Wait...if he wasn’t with Bella either...
Archer’s heart dropped to his knees.
Then it meant...
“Ms. Vickers, isn’t it?” the bomber’s voice trickled through the coms again. “So nice to meet you in person.”
Chapter Seventeen
Dammit.
She was supposed to be safe on that building. Away from that damn madman and any harm he may inflict. Instead, she was a sitting duck.
Bella entered the room, motioning with a thumbs up that the wall of Federal Reserve Police gathering outside the door were waiting for him to give them instructions.
Archer set the keychain on the desk, scrubbed a hand over h
is face and contemplated punching the wall, until he heard the imposter snicker.
“I take it you’ve heard from the boss.” The guy snickered again.
Archer lunged forward with his fist above his head and brought it down hard across the asshole’s cheekbone.
Much more satisfying than hitting a wall.
He flexed his throbbing hand, embracing the pain, letting it heat his blood that had run cold only moments before. “Sandy, it’ll be okay. I’m coming to get you.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Ah, isn’t that sweet,” the bastard said.
Fuck.
His gaze shot to Matteo, then Bella. The guy was listening in. He’d been listening the whole damn time.
“So, here’s how this is going to go down,” the bastard said, his voice louder than before, which meant...he was closer to Sandy. “You are going to put both of my bombs back and activate them or your precious Sandy just might trip and fall off this building. She was operating that drone awfully close to the edge.”
That son-of-bitch. If he so much as...
Rage shook through Archer so fierce his teeth rattled. But a level head was needed to deal with this madman. “Two bombs?” he asked instead of begging for Sandy’s life.
Even though he’d gladly do it...it would be fruitless. Archer knew the man was going to kill her no matter what he did, so he just had to play along to keep her alive long enough for him to rescue her. First thing he needed to do was find out if the devices on their wrists were hacked or if it was just the com lines.
“Yes, two,” the guy said. “Why?”
Christ, he couldn’t believe he was about to answer him. “Because by my estimate, there aren’t enough explosives here to bring down the whole building.”
His stomach rolled at having said that out loud.
“Correct. But who says I want to bring it all down?”
What the fuck was he up to?
“Just enough to cause chaos while you rob the place?” Sandy asked.
Archer’s chest tightened, and he silently willed her not to speak to the man.
“Not a bad idea, if I had wanted to rob it.”
Matteo frowned and shook his head.
Bella had a lethal gleam in her eyes, and Archer was more than happy to sic the former terrorist hunter on the madman
“So, you don’t want to rob it or completely destroy it,” he said, hoping the man would fill in the blanks.
“Correct,” the bastard repeated, but didn’t elaborate.
“You want to blow it up enough to cause carnage and expose the vault so the public could reach the gold to loot it and create chaos,” Sandy said.
Jesus...
The visual her words painted made Archer nauseous.
“Ah, you are a smart cookie, Ms. Vickers. I think I’m going to enjoy our time together.”
Archer’s jaw and neck were stiff, and a churning heat flooded his stomach. Everything inside Archer banded together and filled with a singular purpose...to save Sandy from this madman.
The strap on his wrist vibrated, reminding him of the communicator’s other abilities. Like video feed he was getting.
Good girl, Sandy.
His pulse kicked up as he caught a glimpse of the bomber whose voice had tormented Archer for years. Sandy managed to activate the feature and angle her wrist enough to capture the target on video.
Even though they had to assume the man’s face wasn’t his original, Archer was hopeful they’d get some kind of ID.
“All right, enough chit chat,” the target said. “There’s no need to cut the power in the building, just put my bombs back in play, and remember, I’ll be watching.”
As carefully as he could, Archer sent a text message to TJ, asking about having a location on Sandy.
Still on Horvath’s building.
Then he asked TJ to sever the video feed in the FRB long enough for them to get outside.
No way were they setting any damn bombs for the bastard.
When TJ told them they were good to go, Archer shoved the keychain from the desk into his pocket. “You do have the other one, right, Bella?” he asked.
She nodded and patted her hip pocket. “Yes.”
He glanced at the unconscious man now sporting a black eye. They couldn’t take him, he’d slow them down. Nor could he just leave the guy...
Or could he?
He had TJ send the police and the officer in charge at the Federal Reserve the feed of Rodrigo’s murder while Archer pulled the imposter’s gun from his pocket and set it on the desk. He explained why his prints were on the gun to the officer in charge and asked him to keep the imposter in custody until the police arrived.
Then they rushed out of the building and ran for Horvath’s building. Archer hoped the bomber couldn’t hear their conversation anymore. TJ insisted his wrist comms were secure and that their target was using something like his drone to eavesdrop.
In case it was true, Archer sent Sandy a quick text telling her he was coming.
When they got to the building, it felt like it took the express elevator an hour instead of the actual time of five minutes to climb the fifty stories to the top floor. But when they arrived, guns drawn, the floor was empty except for Horvath and his bodyguard, both bleeding on the floor. The owner only had a broken nose, the other man was bleeding from a hole in his shoulder.
Matteo hurried to the men, pulling out his phone. “I’m calling for help now. Just keep pressure on the wound.”
Archer rushed outside, Bella on his heels, but there was no Sandy. No bomber. No chopper.
They were too late.
His insides felt as if they’d folded in on themselves. And despite being outside, he couldn’t get any air into his lungs. He called TJ and managed to talk. “Tell me you’re tracking her.”
“I’m tracking her.”
Thank Christ.
Archer finally sucked air into his lungs. “Where?”
The man had a helicopter. He could get anywhere with it.
“Over the East River. Looks like they’re landing on a boat. Check on your wrist comm,” he said. “I sent the tracking to all your comms.”
He walked back inside and headed to where Matteo knelt, still helping the bodyguard and Bella’s friend.
“Mr. Horvath, you need to find some new friends,” Bella said, grabbing some ice from behind the bar, and wrapping it in a napkin before returning to hold it on his nose.
“I wish you had been here.” He shuddered. “I don’t understand. I’ve known Roger for over twenty years. What would make him do such a thing?”
“What, exactly, did he do?” Bella asked quietly.
“We came up here for something a little stronger to drink than the champagne from brunch. He said he wanted to enjoy the view. He and his bodyguard shot up my TV. And then he saw your lady friend, and I’m sorry, but he took her and your helicopter.”
Bella set a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Was he piloting?”
“No. His bodyguard flew it.”
Archer stared down at the man. “Was there anyone else?”
“No.”
Good. “Do you have any idea where he might take her?”
“Well, maybe his super yacht, The Commandant.” The man removed the ice from his nose and shrugged. “He usually likes to cruise out to sea from the East River.”
“No other real estate? Penthouse? Apartment?” Archer asked.
“No, he always stays here on my property.” Horvath shook his head again. “This just doesn’t make sense. Roger doesn’t even like guns.”
“I’m sorry,” Bella said, patting his hand. “But I’m afraid that wasn’t your friend. It was an imposter, who had surgery to look like someone whose identity he’d assumed.”
Horvath frowned. “That wasn’t Roger?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s likely the real Roger—your friend—is dead.”
His eyes widened on an inhale. “Oh.”
Twenty minutes later, Archer and his team were on the East River, making their way to their two objectives.
Rescue Sandy and take out the target.
Archer knew his team, their strengths and weaknesses and had no trouble delegating duties. Bella was going to hunt down and take out the target. He was going to find Sandy and get her off the ship before the fireworks started. Matteo was their EXFIL.
Sandy’s signal was still coming in strong, and was, indeed, from The Commandant, still in port. TJ was already dialed into whatever the guy had dialed into.
And Archer was ready...he was ready for this to be over and Sandy to be safe. Taking a chance their target wouldn’t find out, he sent Sandy one last text.
Hang tight. I’m coming to get you. Be ready.
Since they weren’t fortunate enough to have the cover of darkness, Archer and Bella decided to board from the water and rope climb onto the large yacht. They followed Sandy’s signal, still coming in strong. She was sitting at a table in the galley. Hands and feet zip tied. Bruise on her right cheekbone.
Inhaling, he clenched his jaw. He was going to fucking kill whoever had touched her.
The ship was eerily empty of crew, and yet the engines kicked on and the yacht headed away from port. He signaled for Bella to go below deck, and he stayed up top to recon the heat sources showing up on their watches. Using blades, he took out three at the bow, and she sliced through three on the deck below. Then she went to the helm and he entered the galley and rushed to Sandy.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, while quickly cutting through her restraints and pulling her to her feet for a quick hug.
“Yes.” She nodded. “But hurry, he was really mad when no bombs detonated.”
“Yes, Archer, please do hurry,” the bastard said from the doorway, gun in hand, but pointed to the deck. “Now that you’re here, I can at least amuse myself by killing her in front of you. Slowly.”
He pushed Sandy behind him to shield her with his body. “Not gonna happen.” He felt Sandy remove one of the guns behind his back, but he knew that wasn’t needed either.
Bella was on the loose.
The woman was a weapon, so he was letting her do her thing. It would be swift and lethal. All he had to do was keep the man distracted, and Sandy safe, while she cleared the rest of the yacht.
SEAL in Charge Page 17