Tightrope [Black Ops Brotherhood 6] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Bella Juarez

  “She’s in a different command. Badass helped me out with that. Go get her before I get up and go get her.”

  “You’re blood pressure’s a little high, and you’re spiking a fever. Are you in pain?”

  “I feel a lot better since you gave me that last shot of subspace.”

  Alex laughed and said, “You didn’t answer. Are you in a lot of pain?”

  “I just need to be still for a few. I got bounced around more than usual today.”

  “The answer I’m looking for is yes or no. Are you this difficult with her?”

  “The answer is yes. He’s always difficult,” Rio said from the door.

  “Yes, I’m in pain.”

  “Was that hard? I’m giving you a little extra, so in about thirty minutes you’re going right back to subspace.”

  Rio came in and sat at the edge of the bed. She’d taken one hell of a hit to the face, and he noticed the bruise on her cheek was turning a nice shade of purple. He held his hand out to her.

  “Come and sleep with me tonight, I’m scared.”

  She burst out laughing. “Yeah, right. I have a teddy bear this guy won me at the fair back in October. He told me it turns into a grizzly when it detects danger.”

  Chuckling at the memory of the story he’d made up when he’d won the bear and gave it to her made him hiss in pain. He pulled her against his chest and held her, even though it hurt like hell. Yes, it was good to be home.

  “No bears. I need something softer. Look at me; I’m in pain. I might not make it through the night. You’ve got to help out here.”

  Crawling up to him she rubbed her nose against his and said, “Ask me.”

  It had been so long since they’d shared any sort of affection. She’d been so tense while he’d been in the hospital and twitched at every sound. It was nice to see her smile and relax. He kissed her.

  “You don’t want to hot rack with that freaky guy in the other room. Sleep with me tonight, I’ve missed you.”

  * * * *

  “Is Dan okay, and did we figure out the mole in the CBP, Rock?” Dixie asked.

  “He’s fine, and the mole turned out to be the commander of the Naco Station, Felix Alverez. He and a land developer were the guys who set up the CBP agent that Badass is working with. He’s about to drop the hammer and make a couple of more arrests as soon as the FBI and DEA are done combing Alverez’s house. Apparently, there are some bank accounts in the Caymans that are loaded. He’s also getting ready to seize the holdings of Montez Aviation, LLC, and Macey Land Development. I guess you can make another donation to the Panamanian treasury after the dust settles.”

  Dixie got up and walked to a series of pictures that lined one of the shelves in the office. During the next session in the spring, he’d be testifying before Congress at his confirmation hearing for his appointment to the Joint Chiefs. The pictures on the shelf were a living history of US conflicts over the last thirty-five years. He picked up one that had been one of the most meaningful missions of his life. It had been taken in Panama right after Operation Just Cause had ended. He smiled as he caught sight of a very young Rock and Badass in the picture.

  “I need to talk to Dan and find out if our contact gave him any messages.”

  “Why would he do that? That would’ve been risky. Could’ve blown his cover.”

  “I still need to talk to him.”

  Dixie arrived at Sierra Vista’s airport early the next day. Lieutenant JG Harman picked him up and drove them to a quiet neighborhood about thirty miles away. When they pulled up to the small house, he took a deep breath before opening the door. Thinking about almost losing a damn good SEAL in the young lieutenant made him swallow hard. The man inside had earned a special place on his list of comrades.

  He recalled the time he’d first met Dan and Shaq at his Dev Group command in Dam Neck, Virginia, a few years ago and how wide-eyed both young men were when they reported for duty. He’d had the privilege of watching these men mature as SEALs and Naval officers, but mostly he’d seen them grow into manhood. Two weeks ago, Dixie had approved Rock’s recommendation for Dan to meet the command boards for his first step in a promotion to lieutenant commander. Dixie and Rock were grooming their successors, and if Dan stayed the course, he could easily see the young lieutenant as a future command staffer or even the Commander of Navy Special Warfare.

  When the door swung open and he was ushered into the house, he noticed how stiff everyone became when he stepped inside. It bothered him that they all stood at attention when he walked into a room. He understood it was a respect due to him by virtue of his position, but when it came down to it, he was also a US Navy SEAL and had earned the Trident he proudly wore just like them. Even now, he wouldn’t hesitate to pick up a weapon and fight beside them. These SEALs, regardless of rank, were his brothers.

  “Relax, will you guys? I’ve got to put on my pants in the morning just like you,” he said, attempting to ease the tension. A light laughter fluttered through the room, and some of the men who’d met him before eased somewhat. “Where’s Dan?”

  “I’m right here, admiral,” he answered from the hallway. They shook hands as Dixie’s power gaze zeroed in on Dan. “Hell of a fight you were in, boy.”

  “I got my ass kicked, sir.”

  Laughing, he said, “Yeah, well, I understand you inflicted a little pain of your own. Can we talk a minute?”

  “Yes, sir, right this way.” Dan led him toward the back of the house.

  They entered a bedroom, and it was clear by all of the medical equipment in the room that this was where Dan was recovering. In the far corner of the room, he noticed a huge German shepherd stand and growl at him.

  “Friend.” Dan reclined against the headboard of the bed and called to the dog. “Come here, girl.”

  The dog sat next to the bed, and Dan stroked her coat.

  “Yours?” Dixie asked as he closed the door. He took a seat in the chair near the door.

  “No, sir. My fiancée’s, and Schotzie here is the first member of Special Warfare Group 5 Reserve Unit’s new K-9 group.”

  “Is your fiancée the new dog trainer that Badass is always talking about?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s making Schotzie keep watch while she’s gone.”

  “I understand that girl of yours is something else, too.”

  Dan smiled. “Scuttlebutt travels fast, and yes, sir, she is.”

  “She sounds like a keeper. Congratulations, son. Everyone seems to have taken me off their lists when I made my first star, but I still like to get out every now and then. Send me an invite to the wedding.”

  “You can count on it.” Dan looked away for a moment. “Do we need to debrief, sir?”

  “Yeah, we do.”

  “I guess that guy who tried to help me out really did know you. I thought I’d seen him before, and then he started talking like JJ, and it hit me. I saw him in a picture in your office.

  There was the signal he’d been waiting for. He smiled at Dan. “JJ, Umberto, and I are all good friends and go way back. He’s a very important man and has been for a number of years.”

  “Do you want me to start from the beginning? Or do you just want the message he told me to give you?”

  Dixie had read the young SEAL’s debriefing. Dan Gamez would indeed be the next generation of leadership because he knew how to play his cards just right. He’d left the information about passing a message to his admiral out of his debrief. He had sense enough to protect his leadership and knew if the man had been on the level, Dixie would seek him out and get that message personally.

  “I’m not making you go through that again, just give me the message.”

  “He said, ‘the fox is closing in on the dove’, sir.”

  It was a chilling message meaning that Umberto had given Montenegro information in order to save the integrity of the bigger mission and Dan’s life. This young man had no idea how important the message he delivered to his admiral was for the security of two n
ations and to Dixie personally.

  This kid was smart. Rock sure knew how to pick winners. There might be a spot for this young lieutenant commander as well as a new one-star admiral in Washington DC as staffers to the newest member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  Chapter 30

  Café Nadier

  Tehran, Iran

  November 15, 2010/0917 Zulu

  Minster Bakri sipped his coffee and enjoyed a cigarette at his favorite café in downtown Tehran. His routine helped ease his transition into exile, and his Iranian hosts were most generous, ensuring his lifestyle had been maintained. The waiter came to his table, and he handed the man some money, then tucked his paper under his arm and walked into the building where he served as a consultant to a French energy company doing business in Pakistan. His job was to help them navigate the politics of his former homeland, and he’d proven to be an asset because they were getting contracts previously denied them.

  Stepping into his private elevator, he pressed the button that would take him directly to his office. He withdrew his hand at the sudden sting to his finger. When he looked at the pad of his finger, he saw the small pinprick. He disregarded it as he stepped out to his office.

  “Bonjour, Lita.”

  “Bonjour, monsieur. Votre courrier est sur votre bureau.”

  Two maintenance workers walked in and asked her a question in Persian that he didn’t completely hear as he entered his office. His mail and other correspondence were right where she said it would be. Lita was an efficient secretary and just as fastidious as he. He sat behind his desk and read through his correspondence. As the morning progressed, he felt as if he was coming down with the flu. By noon, he had a headache and was feverish. He coughed and tasted blood. His chest suddenly ached, and when he tried to stand to get help, he collapsed to the floor.

  * * * *

  “Mr. Koval, how was your stay in Iran?” the man asked in French as he stamped the passport. “It looks like you were here for business. What company, sir?”

  “Société du Pipeline Sud-Européan, and it was most rewarding.”

  “Good. Your luggage has been cleared. Have a safe trip back to Paris.”

  “Thank you.”

  Meeting his partner inside the aircraft, they took their seats and waited for their departure. Within a few hours, they’d arrived in Paris and went through French Customs in time to catch their Continental Airlines flight back to Houston, Texas. Not being a young man any more, this busy trip was beginning to take its toll on him. Once the doors to the aircraft bound for the United States were closed, he breathed a little easier and looked at his partner.

  “Can I get either one of you gentleman a drink?” the attendant asked as the flight got underway.

  “Scotch on the rocks, please, sugar,” his partner said.

  “Vodka and tonic water, please,” he said.

  The flight attendant left and his partner said, “That vodka shit will kill you one day.”

  “That malted, fermented govno you drink should have killed you by now.”

  “How about a game of chess?”

  Sighing he put down his book. “Don’t you get tired of getting your ass kicked?”

  “I won the last two.”

  “I was drunk.”

  “So was I.”

  The two men burst out laughing.

  Thanks to their joint efforts, there would be one less monster in the world before they arrived home. Minister Bakri would be dead from the very same pathogen with which he had intended to infect the world. Maybe with him gone, the world would be a little safer. But Sergei knew that for every monster they destroyed, three more would take its place. He and JJ had devised the trick button that they’d installed in the minister’s private elevator. It had been a nostalgic nod to their Cold War days, and they removed the button in the elevator as soon as he exited. Their cover to get inside the building was an elevator maintenance work order.

  Thankfully, Minister Bakri was like a Swiss watch. He kept the same routine every day at the same time. At exactly nine twenty, they stopped the elevator and replaced the button with one that had a stick-needle coated with the pathogen. When he pressed the button the tiny needle pierced through the thin plastic and delivered the deadly virus. Just that pinprick would be more than enough to deliver microscopic death within a few hours. At exactly 9:25, right on schedule, Bakri entered the elevator and pressed the button to his floor.

  The pair was such an unlikely team that they never aroused suspicion. Two businessmen, two laborers, or two doctors—it didn’t matter what roles were required for the missions they undertook—they played them to perfection. And it worked because over the short couple of years of their association, they had developed almost a symbiotic understanding and worked extremely well together.

  JJ removed the portable chessboard from his briefcase, and as their drinks arrived they started a game.

  “Dlya uspeshnogo missii,” Sergei said, holding up his glass in a toast to a successful mission.

  “Da, eto bylo,” JJ said, returning the acclamation.

  Since Sergei had lost the last game, he moved first. As they went through the game he considered the first time he’d met Minster Bakri and how he’d enlisted his aid as a Russian biological weapons specialist. He recalled how his country had betrayed him and his family. He’d defected, and the man sitting next to him had arranged for his family to come with him. Since then, they had become like brothers so unlike the bitter enemies they’d been during the Cold War.

  * * * *

  “What do you suspect happened?” the president asked.

  “We don’t know. He just collapsed in his office. We’re doing an autopsy to find out,” the doctor said.

  The president took a drink of his tea and looked at the Russian representative sitting across from him. The French energy company that Minister Bakri worked with had nothing to go on other than the minster had collapsed and died a few hours later. It was an odd coincidence that the very man who made no secret of wanting Mr. Bakri dead was now denying that he had anything to do with the man’s sudden demise. It was also disappointing that they might never be able to regain the weapons that were in Mexico.

  “After you discover the cause of death, have his body destroyed,” the president said.

  “May I extend the assistance of some Russian doctors to aid you in your efforts?”

  The president weighed his options. Perhaps Minister Bakri had become an unnecessary middleman, and it was now time to make alliances with someone who had more resources at their disposal. There could be much gained from making amends with Russia. Azad had been very successful until the minister had soured the relationship.

  “We would be grateful for any assistance you could lend, Mr. Secretary.”

  “If you can hold off on any sort of investigation until tomorrow morning, we will have people at the hospital to assist.”

  “Wait until tomorrow, and report back here with your findings.”

  “What about the body, Mr. President?”

  “It can wait for a few days. It won’t hurt anything.”

  The president nodded. “You may go.” When the door closed, he looked at his Russian guest and said, “Mr. Secretary, I think we have a common interest.”

  “I think so. We need to recover a case of weapons and so do you.”

  “There is a common enemy that is about to threaten both our interests in the Persian Gulf, and they plan to employ a weapons system that will be far more sophisticated than anything before.”

  “Perhaps we need to encourage a more unstable environment to keep them occupied. It would give Russia and Iran a bigger share of the energy markets.”

  “The weapons that the Americans plan to—”

  “Think about what‘s happening in America. Wouldn’t it be better to gain a stronger foothold closer to Israel? Libya and Egypt have become liabilities and can no longer be relied on for keeping the United States at bay. Move into Syria so you can take over Ir
aq and then gain a clear path to the Saudis and Kuwaitis. Once your brand of Islam takes hold there, the United States military will have to leave Qatar and Bahrain. It will leave a vulnerable Afghanistan to fend for itself. Think about the long-term ramifications,” Secretary Ivanov said.

  “I have plans in place.”

  “Creating chaos in Egypt and Iraq will have longer-term gains. Get the fledging group, the Islamic State of Iraq, and the Levant involved. They will be easier for us to help you support since they’re right over the border. In the meantime, we have contacts with the Muslim Brotherhood factions in both Libya and Egypt. They are ready to rally the populace to take over those nations. They seem to have the most legitimacy and are closely aligned with your ideals. Keep Egypt, Syria, and Israel busy and in chaos. If Israel is busy defending itself it cannot supply intelligence. If Egypt is no longer an ally, Jordan will be closed off to the United States, and one by one the doors will shut. Leave the carrier alone. It’s a minor element, and the traction from its destruction won’t be what you think; in truth, it will backfire on you.”

  The United States needed to be brought to heel, a lesson in the reach that Iran had into their dependence on technology. In his estimation, they relied too much on it, and he wanted to make a statement with the carrier and its advanced weapons systems. But he saw the long-term value of this man’s proposal of making inroads into nations where Iran’s influence wasn’t as powerful as it could be. The president considered the options and made up his mind to do both. There was something else he needed to do. The drug lord Montenegro had asked to meet with Iran, secretly. Montenegro knew what he had, and from all accounts from the sleeper cells, he had decided to see if he could replicate it.

  “Let me think about your proposal, it’s most intriguing. Meanwhile, I need to get back what rightfully belongs to Iran.”

  “Those weapons don’t belong to Iran. But as a token of our new partnership, if you can recover them, keep them. I will caution against one thing. Montenegro needs to be taken care of.”