Five minutes later, the SUV pulled into the highly secured underground parking level of the US Embassy. Upon putting the vehicle in park, Ross immediately jumped out and ran to the access door. “I need a medic!” he screeched when the door opened.
The rest of the vehicle’s occupants jogged to the entrance. “I want intel updates every fifteen minutes. You got that, Ben?” Daniels asked when they entered the elevator.
“Yes, sir.”
“Ric, I need you to reach out to your contacts on the ground and re-confirm the information you gathered in Saudi Arabia. I don’t want any fact uncorroborated.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want to stop this before it goes any further. The second we can go tactical and take these guys out on the street, I want it done.”
Ric rubbed his palms together in eager anticipation of the rest of the day’s events. There would be no rest until the threat was mitigated. His focus had to be one hundred percent on capturing or killing the terrorists and protecting the lives of the US citizens still housed in the facility.
One citizen in particular meant more to him than his own life, and if he had to, he’d lay it down to protect her. God, please, give me the strength this time to not fail.
****
As soon as Mel was settled into a room, she immediately went to the phone on the bedside table. “Does this dial out?” she asked the security guard who had escorted her to the room.
“Uh, yes ma’am.”
He didn’t sound too sure. “I need to call home and the office.”
“Ms. Lewis, do you need any assistance?” A petite woman in a navy blue pantsuit and a high-top bun entered the room from behind the security guard. “My name is Jennifer. What can I help you with?”
“I thought all embassy personnel except for security and agency personnel had been evacuated.”
“No, ma’am, not all. Some are deemed essential personnel and are required to remain. Did I hear you mention needing to use the telephone?”
“Yes, you did.” Mel was relieved to hear the dial tone when she placed the receiver to her ear. “I’d like to make a couple of calls, if that’s okay. I really need to call my parents, and I have to call the office.”
“I understand. We’ve been asked to keep all personal calls to the absolute minimum.”
Mel stood to her full five feet, eleven inches height. “I get what you’re saying, but I was kidnapped. There have probably been some news reports on me. At the very least, I know my parents have either called my boss or gone to the FBI to report that I hadn’t phoned in a few days. I’d like to reassure them that I’m all right. It’s protocol I at least inform my boss, Deputy US Marshal Cord Phillips, that I’ve been recovered.”
Her size appeared to have adequately intimidated the woman as she took a step back and with a nod of her head, she voiced her approval. “Okay, but please make it quick.”
Mel sank into the mattress, relieved at the prospect of hearing her mother’s voice on the other end of the line. Jennifer instructed her on how to place an outside call and within a few seconds, Mel heard the joyful cries of her mother and father at the sound of her voice.
“When will you be home, baby?” Her mother’s eager question came through the line.
Mel shrugged as if she were visible to her parents. “I’m not sure. We’re on lockdown here, but keep that to yourself. It shouldn’t be too much longer, and then I expect I’ll be put on the next flight out of here.”
“Well, thank the Lord you’re safe. What happened to you out there? How were you rescued?”
After explaining she didn’t have the time to go into details, and promising them a full account later, she regretfully disconnected the line and dialed her boss’s number.
“Lewis? How in the world?”
“It’s a long story, boss, trust me.”
“Well, it’s good to hear your voice. The team has been worried sick about you.”
“I appreciate it. Hopefully, I’ll be home in a few days.”
“When you get a chance, call Ale.”
“You called Alejandro?” Mel was surprised her boss would phone her former partner. Sure, they were friends and kept in touch now that he had transferred to a different division and was living in Virginia with his new wife and stepson, but telling Ale about her disappearance would only worry him when there was literally nothing he could do about it — and he was the type of man who’d do something, just like his younger brother Ric.
“You know I’d call him. It’s something he’d want to know about for sure. Look, I understand you can’t talk long and I get that you probably have already used up your allotted phone calls, so if you want, I’ll phone him and let him know. But you know he’ll want to talk to you personally.”
“Yes, sir, I know.” Ale was very protective of the members of his team when he worked as the lead for an undercover operation against a known drug trafficker last year. His oversight bordered on obsessive, and Mel had to remind him often that he wasn’t the only capable agent. “I’d appreciate it if you’d let him know. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to phone again. We’re on high alert here.”
“Understood. Stay safe, Lewis.”
“Thank you, sir, I will.”
Mel replaced the receiver and closed her eyes. She released a sigh that her lungs had been harboring for days. The embassy was still under a heightened threat alert, but now more than ever she considered herself out of any immediate danger.
“If you’d like to take a shower, it’s through that door behind you.” Jennifer pointed to a closed door on the opposite side of the bed. “I’ll bring you some fresh clothes and I’ll have some food brought up, unless you want to eat with the others in the ops room.”
“Thank you. I’ll eat in the ops room.” Mel rose and circled the bed to the bathroom. A long, hot shower sounded luxurious, and the sooner she could have one, the better the situation would seem.
“Towels and washcloths are already in the bathroom. If you need anything else, I’ll be back shortly.”
“Thank you,” Mel said over her shoulder.
Mel didn’t at all feel bad about using the water in the longest shower she’d ever taken in her life. Although the bath in Ric’s tent was surprisingly very spa-like and soothing, she preferred to know the dirt was rinsed off and flowed down a drain. It would take too long to dry her natural hair, so she towel-dried it as best she could and quickly braided it in one long plait down the center of her head.
With a fresh pair of pants and a polo shirt on, Mel followed her security guard down to the operations room where Daniels, Ric, Ben, Ross — with some sort of patch on his nose — and several other analysts had gathered. It sounded like a war room: people talked on the phone, Daniels barked orders and demanded answers to questions analysts researched on their computers. When she locked eyes with Ric, he winked and grinned. Mel returned his grin with one of her own.
Mel was offered a seat and a folder filled with photographs of the area’s most well-known terrorists was shoved in front of her. Immediately, she flipped through the pictures in an attempt to identify a few of her attackers. Abdul’s face she could never forget, but she’d only seen a handful of his men during a couple of instances: when she was first brought before the sheik, and during the desert firefight. If any one of them walked around the camp when she was outside of Ric’s tent, she didn’t take the time to memorize their features as she was more concerned about hiding her own.
“Take your time. But I’m sure you already know that since this is kinda your line of work,” a deep voice came from behind.
Identify perps, yes. Catching terrorists? This was her first go ’round. Ric took a seat beside her, phone to his ear. “Wouldn’t you be better at this? You know Hassan’s men.”
“That’s the point. The men we’re looking for aren’t Hassan’s. Abdul has his own entourage and his men are able to mooch off Hassan’s generosity due to their connection with Abdul. I remember a few of the fa
ces, yes, but trying to distinguish them from temporary workers Hassan hired just for that weekend…”
“The blindfold was rarely removed when I was in Abdul’s custody.”
He slipped a hand to her knee and squeezed. “Whatever you can do is all we ask.”
Mel suppressed the shudder that rocketed up her leg from his contact, a finger sliding down the sensitive center part of her knee. She nearly swiped his hand away, but was too enraptured by his touch to discontinue it. She nodded. “Okay, I’ll do what I can.”
“I found her!” Ben yelled from his corner. His fingers furiously swept the keys of his laptop computer. The picture of a strikingly beautiful African woman in a headscarf flashed onto the main screen. “Qamar Sadiq. She recently used one of her aliases — Kaafi Mahdi — to purchase a commercial truck from a well-known local dealership.”
“Did she pay cash?” Daniels asked.
“No. But she presented a UK driver’s license under her alias, and it was flagged by a man we’ve developed inside,” Ben replied.
“Good work. Now we know what type of vehicle will possibly be used. It might be painted to match local trucks on the street. Alert security to any vehicle idling around the complex.”
“Is she the one that’s going to use my creds?” Mel asked, her eyes fixed on the screen.
“That’s the most likely scenario,” Daniels answered. “She may try to gain entry by pretending to be you and give the story about your abduction. All security personnel have been alerted that you’re already inside the embassy and to detain anyone attempting to use a government agency ID.”
Mel tilted her head to one side. “She kinda looks like me. What if security thinks I was transported off the compound and now I’m returning?”
Daniels shook his head at the scenario. “They were implicitly instructed to detain anyone regardless of government affiliation. With the embassy on lockdown, if you were to leave, you wouldn’t be coming back. Ric, how many hours did you say Abdul had a head start on us?”
Ric rubbed his beard in contemplation. “If they commandeered Hassan’s private jet, you’re looking at at least a twelve-hour head start. And most of his men have been in place for the last week.”
“Look at this!” Ben called the room to attention. He switched to a camera feed that gave an angle of the north side of the embassy. “We have an idle yellow truck on the opposite side of the street.”
“Could be a final dry run,” Ric said.
“Or it could be the real deal,” Ross countered.
Mel’s gaze shifted between the two men. The animosity was obvious, at least on Ross’s part. She leaned in close to Ric. “Did you break his nose?”
Ric sported a cocky half-grin. “He was getting on my nerves.” When her eyes widened, he continued. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
She was sure it’d be a good story; Ross was the type of person one would want to punch in the face.
“We’ve got security on the line. They said they’ve detained a US Marshal Melody Lewis,” a female analyst spoke.
Nobody in the command center moved. Then everyone darted in all directions. Ric and Melody were on their feet and headed toward the door. “Santiago, find out what she knows,” Daniels ordered from behind them. “And somebody get me eyes on the driver of that truck.”
“Already on it, boss,” Ben replied. “I think I can pull the feed from the northeast camera and that should do it.”
Mel sprinted to keep up with Ric’s pace. He tore through a staircase door and leapt down the flights, taking several stairs at a time. “Where are they holding her?” Ric said into his cell. “No, don’t give her anything. Has she been searched? Nothing? No weapons or… Search her again. No, don’t question her. I’m on my way.”
“She’s gotta know that we know she’s lying about who she is.”
“Maybe. That’s what I got to find out. If she keeps up the act, we’ll bring you in to trip her up.”
“If she’s not the bomber then she’s definitely a diversion.”
“A costly one if she doesn’t mind being captured by our government.”
They reached the lower level where the central security office was located. Mel stopped Ric from entering with a hand on his arm. “What if she doesn’t plan to be captured?”
Ric eyed her curiously. “You think this is a martyr mission? Why then did she even need to set foot inside the embassy? She could’ve just blown herself up right outside.”
A member of the security team stepped into the hallway. The tall, black man removed his service cap and with a shake of his head said, “You’ll never guess this twist.”
“What?” Mel and Ric said in unison.
“She’s defecting.”
****
Ric walked inside the small room fitted with a gray metal table and a couple of matching chairs, as well as a computer desk, which was manned by a security guard. Qamar Sadiq sat quietly with her long legs crossed at the knees, and her lips slightly pursed in an arrogant way. Her gaze drifted down Ric’s long frame. The look of approval grew in her eyes the longer she kept them on him. Her resemblance to Mel was striking, yet she failed to ignite the slightest attraction in him.
They didn’t have much time to stop the attack, so Ric got right to the point. Knuckles on the table, he leaned over it. “I want to know every detail of this attack. Start with the time first.” He spoke in Arabic.
“I want asylum.”
“Yeah, I heard. Before we can even discuss that, I need the positions of each of the men in this operation. It’s happening today, isn’t it? What time? How long do we have?”
Qamar sealed her lips, her stare growing more and more irritated. “You’re not listening to me. I want asylum.”
“Give us the information we want and we’ll talk about asylum. If you don’t, you’ll blow up with the rest of us.”
A smirk curved the sharp lines of her high cheekbones. “You don’t know anything.”
“And you know everything, is that it?”
“I know what the plans are, so yes, I do know everything. You want to know what I know? You promise me asylum in Germany.”
“Why? Why do you want asylum? Haven’t you sworn to do jihad against the United States? What, are you suddenly bored with your mission?”
She chuckled at his sarcasm. “If you’ve seen what I’ve seen, then you know it’s never boring.”
She’s prepared to do this dance all day, and we don’t have the time. Ric hated not being in control of an interrogation. Well, this really wasn’t his ideal style of interrogating, but she held all the cards and it was her game or nothing. “Why Germany?”
Her eyes softened and her gaze drifted past him. “The man I love is there,” she whispered.
Ric blinked. Love? “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
Qamar blasted a sigh. “We were separated before a group of armed men came into my village. I was told if I didn’t train to jihad, that my family would be killed.”
“So you trained and started committing attacks.”
“This was supposed to be my first. But my family was killed anyway. The only person in the world I have left is my Hans.”
I don’t believe it. Qamar was known to have traveled extensively throughout Europe and only recently returned to Somalia before the Italian authorities could detain her. At any time she could’ve sought asylum in a European country. “I need proof.”
“A man named Abdul kidnapped an American citizen. A woman, who looks a little like me.”
“Which explains your use of her credentials.”
“I know where this man is. Do you want him?”
A loaded question. More than anything. Daniels would want Abdul alive; he’d be a valuable source of information given his ties to one of Saudi’s wealthiest businessmen. How many terrorist factions did Sheik Hassan knowingly or unwittingly bankroll due to Abdul’s intimate knowledge of the man’s finances? Cutting off the funding for these groups would be a subs
tantial advancement in shutting down their operations.
But if Ric had his way, Abdul would never see the inside of a CIA black site. He’d die wherever he was standing when they met again. Nothing would be able to pry Ric’s hands from around the man’s throat as he choked the life from him. For Hakeem, he thought. His mouth watered at the chance for vengeance.
Vengeance is the Lord’s.
His mother’s words rang loudly in his head. When he was a teenager, in a fit of anger, he had asked his mother what she did to get back at his dad for the abuse. When she said “nothing,” he was stupefied even though he knew it was the truth. He had meant to hurt her by his question, but only he felt the pain. When he was a boy, he had to stand there and take it, but she was a grown woman. Didn’t she have any desire to fight at all? His father was able to escape…to run away to wherever he went, never to face the consequences of his actions. Never to look into the eyes of his son and tell him he was wrong. Justice — no matter the method — was a concept Ric craved. He would forever bear the scar on the side of his neck, but Hakeem would never see another sunrise, or pop an oversized date into his mouth. Vengeance is the Lord’s? Yeah, well sometimes God is just a little too slow.
A knock at the door snapped Ric out of his thoughts. Qamar stared at him strangely and he wondered how long he had been silent. “Yes, I want to know where Abdul is.”
“That’s what I’m here to tell you,” Ross said from behind.
Ric closed his eyes. The urge to hit the man coursed rapidly through his veins. Now, it’s just the sound of his voice that’s setting me off. He’d have to handle his temper if he was going to get through the day without adding a stack of human resources complaints to his service file.
Qamar’s face fell at Ross’s declaration. Well, at least I know she understands English, Ric mused as he turned to face his colleague. One of her leverages was just stripped from her. She only had a couple of cards left to play and if Ben was worth his salt as an analyst, he’d spot the suspected terrorists on video before they had a chance to strike.
Ric followed Ross out of the room to speak away from Qamar. Mel, who had been waiting with a group of security, walked up to the two of them, her face showing concern. “Did she say anything?”
Ricardo (The Santiago Brothers Book Three) Page 17