“I am. However, I don’t think that’s what you should do at this point.”
“Oh, yeah? Enlighten me.”
“Priority is establishing Redrook’s identity, not revenge.”
“I know that.”
“Although, I’m not too concerned because I’ve made contact with the leader of the special ops team that was supposed to ambush this meet. We’ll find out soon enough who’s pulling their strings.”
“And you trust this guy?”
“As much as I should,” Viktor said. “Understand this, Sullivan. Unless you’re on my team, I don’t fully trust you.”
“It’s mutual at this point, Baran, so luckily, I’m not on your team.”
Viktor cracked a slight smile. His expression was one of innate stoicism. Add the face paint to the whole facade, and it was damned near impossible to read the man. Now in the light of the barn, Gabe could see ice blue eyes that had seen too much death. He should know—Gabe had seen the same reflected in his own eyes.
Viktor moved closer and lowered his voice. “I know what you’ve been through, Sullivan. You’re still trying to claw your way back from who you once were. Killing Jamison at this point is not the road back. But make no mistake, I understand you. Just remember, you have to live with the consequences of your actions.”
So now, Gabe was staring at Zach with much unparalleled rage and he was torn with what he had to do. If Viktor hadn’t made his little speech, would he even think twice about slitting the man’s throat?
“How do I know this Frank Wilkes isn’t some name you pulled out of your ass, huh, Zach?” Gabe scoffed.
“You think I like being made a punching bag?” Zach asked, spitting blood on the floor.
“What’s the matter, Zach? You can dish it, but you can’t take it, you sadistic son of a bitch!” Gabe growled as he unsheathed his knife from his boot.
He waved the weapon in front of Zach’s nose, who was at the moment, just staring at Gabe, daring him to do his worst. In his peripheral vision, he saw Travis make a move forward.
Gabe held back a hand. “Stay out of this, Travis.”
“Gabe, think about it, man, would Beatrice want you to do this?”
“Are you suggesting I call and ask her?” Gabe asked derisively.
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
“She screamed, you know,” Zach sneered.
“You will shut up if you know what’s good for you!” Travis snapped at Zach. “Gabe, killing Zach is not what Beatrice wants.”
“She’ll never be safe,” Zach said and laughed chillingly. “While her father is alive, she’ll always be fair game.”
“Oh, you’ll be wasting away somewhere,” Gabe replied. His voice was calm, but the desire for retribution scalded his veins.
“You think that will stop me? How do you know she’s safe even now?”
Both men froze.
“Ah . . . your little safe house. You never considered we’d track Douglas Keller.”
“Impossible. There are sensors—”
“Technology changes every day, trackers become more advanced, more difficult to trace. When was the last time those sensors were updated?” Zach asked mockingly. “Everyone who knew the location of the safe house was careful and experienced in security, but it’s not difficult to determine the weakest link.”
“Travis, call the safe house,” Gabe said before turning back to Zach. “Why are you telling us this now?”
“Why did I give up Frank Wilkes’s name easily? It appears the bastard double-crossed me. Even if he killed Porter for me, what good would savoring that knowledge be if I was locked away behind bars? Even for Crowe, that wouldn’t be worth it. If I get charged with treason, it’ll be the death penalty. I have nothing to lose now.”
“No one’s answering,” Travis said. “I’ve tried everyone’s cell phone numbers. Something could be jamming the signal.”
“They’re probably all dead,” Zach continued to taunt them.
“Here,” Gabe tossed Travis his secure phone. “There’s a direct line to the landline in the control room.”
“I should’ve let them rape her,” Zach continued. “Ventura had the hots for Beatrice.”
“Shut up, Jamison,” Gabe growled as unwitting images of the Colombian gang leader’s hands all over Beatrice flashed through his mind.
“He loves her spirit; he would enjoy breaking her—”
Gabe didn’t reply. It took all his self-control just to keep his hands by his sides.
“Push her to her knees, shove his cock in her mouth, spread her open and— urrk . . .”
Gabe detachedly observed the blood spurting from the C-curve he had carved across Zach’s throat. Ear to ear. He felt like he was a heat-forged sword plunged into water, hardened and tempered to become the deadly weapon he was meant to be. Rage had dissipated into a chilly regard of the bloody scene before him.
“Ah, fuck,” Travis muttered behind him.
“Funny that my regret at the moment is giving Zach what he wanted,” Gabe said tonelessly. “Did you get through?”
“The admiral arrived at the safe house. He’s injured.”
“What?”
“We need to head back. Now,” Travis said, turning and marching to the gate of the barn.
“Tell me what’s going on?” Gabe sheathed his knife into his boot.
“Zach Jamison was right; Harold Baxter knows the location of the safe house.”
“Harold Baxter—”
“—is Redrook, and my bet is Frank Wilkes is an alias he’s used to run Red Bridge since its inception. Porter has the evidence.” They exited the barn, and Gabe followed Travis’s lead into the main house, presumably to look for Viktor. “He needs to send the information to AGS for safekeeping. But to do that, he has to have Viktor’s analyst open a secure socket so Caitlin can transmit the intel.”
Viktor was walking out with another guy who was dressed in fatigues. This must be the Special Op guy Viktor was talking about. Both men looked grim and unhappy, but at least they didn’t look like they were about to kill each other.
“Our man is Harold Baxter,” Viktor said to Gabe and Travis. He made the introductions with the newcomer.
“We got confirmation from Porter as well,” Gabe said.
“So he’s okay? He went off the grid this morning,” Viktor said.
“He’s injured,” Travis announced grimly.
“What?”
“He’s got intel he needs to transmit to Tim,” Travis said. “He’s holed up in the safe house right now, but that location is blown. We need to get over there, ASAP. No telling if Baxter is going after them.”
Gabe and Travis were about to return to their vehicle when Viktor stopped them. “Hold on. If Baxter’s after them, you’ll need backup. And you need to get there quickly.”
“You’re not saying—” Gabe started.
“We have a chopper on standby,” Viktor said. “I can round up a team and fly you guys out there and provide cover fire. If there’s no landing site, you guys still know how to fast rope, right?”
“Hell, yeah,” Gabe snorted as Travis nodded his affirmation.
Viktor nodded in approval. Gabe didn’t change opinions very quickly or often, but he was actually beginning to admire this motherfucker.
*****
Tim Burns, the AGS data analyst, was on video conference with Caitlin while the two worked on establishing a secure connection between the safe house and the AGS data center. Beatrice was crouched down in front of her father, wrapping a bandage across his torso. A bullet had torn through the side of her father’s abdomen with no apparent internal damage.
“I can’t believe you let yourself get captured.” She was so pissed at her dad right now that was probably the first full sentence she had spoken to him since he stumbled through the door.
“I knew I was being watched. I knew Baxter had suspicions it was a trap. But I also knew he couldn’t resist the bait.”
“You ar
e just as insane as Baxter.” She pulled on the bandage with more strength than she intended. The admiral winced, and she felt guilty, but not enough so she’d back down from giving him hell. He let himself be taken by Harold Baxter, also known as Frank Wilkes and a host of other aliases. In the CIA though, the man was known as Baxter. Beatrice had a sneaking suspicion that the two men actually admired the other’s cunning. Judging from what her father told her, he and Baxter had a civilized conversation in the man’s hideout until Baxter ordered one of his men to kill him. Somehow, the admiral gained the upper hand and managed to transfer some files, but soon after, Baxter’s security team swarmed in. Her father managed to get away but had been shot. “What’s on the jump drive?”
“Everything that incriminates him with weapons sales to Colombia and allowing drugs into the United States so the rebels could pay for them,” the admiral said. “I’m hoping there’s enough information there regarding ST-Vyl virus that would tie in to what Gabe had retrieved from Ryker’s room. We can nail him on the charge of conspiring with a faction in the Russian government to commit a terrorist act.”
“You think the Russian president is involved?”
Her father shook his head. “Not likely. He is up for re-election and can’t afford to take risks. I’m putting my money on one of his generals with the support of some companies poised to gain from the end of the Ukrainian conflict.”
“How has the world become so fucked up?” Beatrice muttered. “War everywhere. Terrorism on the rise.”
“Is there anything on Project Infinity or the specter agents?” Caitlin asked. The expression on her face broke Beatrice’s heart.
Her father’s face softened in regret. “I’m afraid not, Caitlin. I’ve dug into it before, believe me. Those files have been destroyed. There’s also strong evidence that the foster homes used by Baxter to recruit the kids for the program have been razed to the ground.”
“Oh, my God.” Caitlin’s eyes widened, mirroring the shock Beatrice was feeling.
“What kind of soulless bastard is this guy?” Beatrice asked incredulously.
“One you don’t want in charge of National Security,” her dad said. “Baxter was next in line for Deputy Director of the CIA. This was over fifteen years ago. He fucked up a high-profile op and was demoted to missions that have low political risks, which is how he became involved in South America. At that time, the war and attention of the public was shifting to the Middle East. He took advantage and made money.”
Footsteps thudded outside the control room. Seconds later, Nate burst in. “Three black SUVs are speeding down the driveway. I want you girls to lock yourselves in here. You up for a fight, Admiral?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll alert Viktor and the others,” Tim announced from the video feed.
Beatrice was feeling something else. “I can help.” When both men were about to protest, she added, “If any of you say I should stay behind, think again. I’m good with a gun.” She looked at Nate. “You can have the RPG.”
“I—” Caitlin started.
“You need to stay here, Cat,” Beatrice said, nodding to Nate who signaled he had to head back outside. Porter followed Nate. “You’re the one who can operate”—she looked around at all the monitors and keyboards—“whatever these are. And it looks like you’re still transferring the files.”
“Be careful,” Caitlin said.
“I will,” Beatrice replied.
Nate started yelling that the SUVs had pulled up in front of the house.
“You have the schematics of the underground tunnel leading outside, right? Just in case they trap you in here.”
“Bee,” Caitlin whispered and couldn’t say anymore. They hugged each other tightly. Afterward, Beatrice exited the room and dragged the sliding door shut.
“Seal it!” Beatrice shouted.
Hydraulics whirred as the locks bolted into place.
Seconds later, the frenetic din of assault rifles blasted through the night.
*****
“Bee, go upstairs and cover the back! Take Rhino with you,” Nate shouted, taking a moment behind the reinforced wall by the door to instruct her. Sam was at the other end, firing at will. She didn’t see her dad, but the trap door leading to the armory was open.
The German Shepherd was circling in excitement in the middle of the living room.
She nodded and grabbed her two Sigs and a can of pre-loaded magazines that were under the kitchen cabinet. Grabbing a short-wave radio from Nate, she confirmed the frequency and scrambled up the stairs.
“Come on, boy!” She looked back to make sure Rhino was following her. The walls and windows were bullet-resistant, but wouldn’t hold off a continued assault for long.
Beatrice had Rhino lie down on the side of the bed away from the windows. She fitted the suppressor on her Sigs. The lights in the room were off. She slowly slid the window open a smidge. For a while there was no movement in the backyard. Her eyes roamed far and close to the side of the house. The lighting in the back was also behind bullet-resistant glass.
She ignored the raging war that seemed to be taking place in the forefront of the safe house. At least with the fierce exchange, it was a good sign that her father, Nate, and Sam were putting up a good fight. The bad news? So were the hostiles.
Her eyes caught a stir by the wall, a minuscule peep of a leg that quickly disappeared. She focused on that spot, though in a way, she was omnipresent-aware. It was hard to describe the feeling where all she could hear was her breathing and all her senses were alive. Three figures broke away from the cover of the wall. Beatrice didn’t fire yet, waiting to see what they would do.
One of them was carrying a large weapon that looked like—
Oh, my God! It’s a RPG.
Before the hostile could shoulder the weapon, Beatrice aimed and squeezed off two shots. The remaining two scuttled in opposite directions, firing haphazardly at the house. She ducked behind the walls momentarily, gauging where the bullets were hitting. The suppressor disguised her muzzle flashes and the sound of her gun, so they didn’t know from where she was shooting. The line of the lights that ran along the middle of the house also made it difficult for the attackers to aim and fire into the house.
Satisfied that they were shooting far from her location, she peered over the window edge again. Her blood turned to ice. There was a body on the ground, but the RPG was missing.
It was a split second before she caught the movement right behind the tree line. She fired the same time she heard the whoosh of the rocket. An instantaneous explosion rocked the floor below her.
Cat!
The control room was reinforced, but Cat better be ready to make a quick exodus.
She heard shouting on the first floor and from her radio. Nate was yelling out orders to put out a fire. Beatrice was able to pick off another shooter, but her eyes were searching for the man with the RPG. Rhino was whining in agitation.
“Shh . . . quiet, boy,” Beatrice said. She spied a gunman lurking, trying to sneak into the back patio. She managed to disable him, sending him crashing to the ground. She was about to fire another shot when a bullet ricocheted off the edge where she was shooting from. Amid the crazy ruckus of gunfire and more explosions, Beatrice thought she heard the blunt rhythm of a chopper.
Another bullet struck near her. Same spot. Shit, they were using a special scope and must have clocked her.
Which meant . . .
Oh, shit.
She saw it, the rocket heading straight for her.
She scrambled to her feet and ran across the room toward the bed.
“Rhino!” she screamed.
A thunderous roar and a fireball shot past her, sending her flying on top of the bed. The blast wave further rolled her off the mattress. Pain exploded on the back of her head before darkness claimed her.
*****
It was a war zone.
The muzzle flashes of carbines and assault rifles lit up the front yard like a
firework show. Smoke was rising from the safe house and the stucco walls were heavily pockmarked.
Their Black Hawk’s machine gun did quick work on the attackers, not giving them an opportunity to use the RPG on them.
“Get us down there,” Travis growled.
“Hold on, Blake,” Viktor said. “You don’t want to drop dead before you hit the ground, do you?”
Gabe clenched his jaw as he gripped his carbine tight, but Viktor was right. He also understood how Travis felt because an overwhelming desire to make sure Beatrice was all right prickled the expanse of his skin.
The chopper swooped to the back of the house and raked the ground there as well, tearing a path and taking down two more of Baxter’s men. The assailants appeared to be a different faction from the guards at the meet and they were not the U.S. Special Ops team either. How many schemes did Harold Baxter/Frank Wilkes have?
“Looks good here,” Viktor spoke to the pilot. “Lower the bird.”
Gabe jumped off, got on one knee, and had his carbine shouldered, sweeping the area. Maia followed in seconds, repeating the same motion and clearing the other side.
Travis exited the chopper but walked toward the house with his weapon trained in front of him.
A hand landed on Gabe’s shoulder as Viktor shouted into his ear. “Go! We got you guys covered.”
Gabe nodded, rose from his crouch, and trailed Travis into the house.
His heart sank when he walked into the debris of destruction. The back door was partly blasted in, the windows shattered, and plaster littered the floor. Gabe walked through the door just as the control room door slid open and Caitlin launched herself into Travis’s arms.
Porter was leaning heavily against the stairs, a fire extinguisher in his hand. He didn’t look good and was bleeding steadily. Gabe’s eyes scanned the room. “Beatrice?”
“Nate went to check on her,” Porter gasped out. “Explosion. Upstairs.”
Gabe saw the hole and smoke coming out of their bedroom when they first landed. The gears in his mind clicked as he processed Porter’s words. Beatrice was in the bedroom when the warhead exploded? Fuck no!
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