by Linzi Basset
“An employee of mine approached Precision Secure this morning to help find her brother who, they believe, has disappeared. Paige Scott, Sean’s sister,” Ethan explained curtly. “Max and Richard found the connection between you and the covert team.”
“So much for being a covert team,” Alex muttered under his breath.
“You know there’s nothing Max can’t find. If it’s in cyberspace, between him and Richard, they’ll find it,” Keon intoned drily.
“Very well, but what I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. Not even to Sean’s sister. Is that clear, Ethan?” Alex said. He waited for Ethan’s confirmation before he continued. “Sean is undercover as Steven Brown, racehorse trainer, for Prince Khalid’s prized Arabians. We created a portfolio for him that Khalid couldn’t resist. His desire to win the Triple Crown this year is well known, and he was willing to pay top dollar for the best trainer on the racing circuit. Sean has been there for just over three months. We got our first breakthrough this weekend. Sean was chosen specifically because he’s fluent in the local dialect. He overheard a conversation between Khalid and his contact in the US. Khalid intends to accompany Sean and the horses to the US for the Triple Crown race in two weeks. He’ll meet with his cohorts at the same time. He intends to take the merchandise back with him to Saudi Arabia. Sean quoted him saying, ‘two flies at once’,” Alex explained briefly.
He pinned Ethan with a direct stare. “We can’t afford anyone rocking the boat at this stage, Ethan. It’s the closest we’ve ever come to shutting down human trafficking to the Arab countries.”
“Has Sean mentioned Jaxon at all?” Ethan’s voice thickened when he mentioned his son’s name. They were all aware how hard Ethan had tried to find out about Jaxon.
“I didn’t keep this from you deliberately, Ethan. I was worried you would charge over there and end up getting killed. I needed to be sure Jaxon wouldn’t be hurt through all of this,” Alex said per explanation.
“Jaxon?” Ethan prodded. His voice was clipped and on the edge.
“He’s fine. Sean has befriended him, has even been training with him. He says Jax has turned into a self-taught Krav Maga expert.”
“And?” Ethan felt his heart swell with pride. At the same time, his heart wept at the memories of the times he had trained Jaxon when he had been younger.
Alex glanced at Rhone in silent communication. It was obvious that Alex had discussed this in detail with Rhone.
“Jax isn’t happy there, Ethan. He’s taken Sean into his confidence. He hates the prince, who has apparently taken to abusing Delia but she remains blind to his faults.”
“Of course, she would,” Ethan snorted. “His fortune means more to her than her own self-respect.” He started pacing the office. “I have to get him out of there. Fuck, it’s perfect timing,” he enthused. “When Khalid comes here, we can fetch Jaxon.”
“It won’t be that easy, Ethan. Jax has an army guarding him. He doesn’t step a foot outside his room without four or five bloodhounds on his heels,” Alex warned.
“Alex is right, Ethan. We have to think this through and—”
“Can it, Rhone! If you think for one moment that I’ll sit back and do nothing, knowing that Jax is unhappy, you’re a fucking idiot,” Ethan raged.
“We need to finalize the extraction plan before we leave for Riyadh. This time, we’ll go in prepared. None of us is going to end up in Khalid’s hellhole this time,” Rhone continued unperturbed.
“You’ve already been planning to get Jaxon out?” Ethan stopped pacing.
“The first time Alex told me about the operation. Keon and I knew there wouldn’t be a better opportunity than this one. We couldn’t tell you before, Ethan. Not before we were sure we had a foolproof escape route in place,” Rhone reiterated.
“And you were worried I would go charging there on my own again,” Ethan conceded. The roaring purr of a Harley Davidson motorcycle revving in the street intruded the thick atmosphere.
“Was it you, who Paige spoke to when she phoned Extreme Adventures?” Keon asked Alex.
“Yes, I had hoped to set her mind at ease, but I clearly didn’t. Sean will have some explaining to do when he gets back.”
“Especially as he has put her life in danger now,” Ethan said in a gravelly voice. He briefly explained what had happened with Paige.
“Fuck. That means Sean has been compromised. No one outside of the covert team, the president, secretary of state and the director of the FBI knows who or where he is.”
“Which means you have a mole,” Lance pointed out the obvious.
“It also means that your little rosebud is in danger, Ethan. I suggest we put her under protection until this operation is over. If the Sixth Order is involved, they will find out about her. We need to keep her safe before she ends up in a container somewhere,” Keon spoke quietly. He was always the one who managed to calm down the rest of the team.
Ethan could feel the tension ebb from his body in relief; knowing that there was light at the end of the dark tunnel he’d been living in for the past seven years. But thoughts of Paige in danger, regurgitated the fear for her safety.
His lips twisted in a wry grin. Her predicament also offered him ammunition; the kind that Paige Scott would never be prepared for.
Chapter Seven
The irritation never showed on Paul Burgess’ face. In all the years he’d been a frontline leader of the Sixth Order, he had yet to beat Dexter, one of the two echelons—the top leaders of the order—to an appointment. Even today. He had made a point of arriving thirty minutes early, only to find Dexter already sipping his favorite whiskey in the private dining room, at the fine-dine Komi restaurant at Dupont Circle.
This man must have a sixth sense that’s even sharper than mine
“You’re early,” Dexter rasped. His voice vibrated with the usual deep, grating sound in the quiet ambience of the room.
“You should be used to it by now,” Paul responded with a negligent shrug of his wide shoulders. He settled in the chair and accepted the tumbler the waiter offered him. It was one thing they were always assured of at the restaurant—top class service.
“The usual, gentlemen?” Raoul, the Maître d′, enquired.
“Yes, thank you, Raoul,” Dexter responded, his gaze still assessing Paul. The Sixth Order had always trusted him implicitly. He was partly responsible for the success they had achieved in a relatively short period of time.
Dexter was concerned about the twinge of mistrust that he’d been experiencing toward Paul Burgess of late. He had always depended on his gut instinct. It was why he had made such a tremendous success of his business all over the globe. The Sixth Order had started because he and his partner had an inherent desire for power.
“You’ve been quiet lately, Paul. It concerns us. Is there something going on that we should be aware of?” Dexter asked. His sharp gaze never missed anything. He studied Paul intently. His eyes didn’t flicker. He returned Dexter’s stare with his usual calm demeanor.
“Nothing out of the ordinary. You forget that I have been training our new drug operations manager,” Paul responded. He took a sip of his bourbon. “Fucking good stuff,” he murmured as he rolled the fragrant liquid on his tongue.
The Sixth Order had become the most successful crime syndicate in the US. Their operations now transcended borders. They had been successfully defrauding the Securities and Exchange Commission for the past eight years with a complex network of companies in over twenty countries.
“Ah, William Seely. How is he doing?”
“Very well, although that’s no surprise. He’s one of the best there is. His company’s success is proof of that. Not to mention the role he played in the Occhipinti mafia.” Paul chuckled. “He’s won the entire team over within the first week. I’m giving him free reign.”
Dexter relaxed and leaned back in his chair. Paul Burgess was the best ally they’d made so far. He was known as the Bossam—a title singular to the Sixth Order—and co
ntrolled the four cells of their organization; money laundering, drugs, prostitution, and cybercrime.
Burgess was the only one who had ever been in contact with the two top echelons. It ensured that their secret identity remained intact and that the syndicate would continue operating even if Paul was caught. Dexter was confident that should that ever happen, he would never disclose their identities—the ones he was privy to.
Burgess was a valuable asset to them because of his extensive political and economic contacts. He had set up an entire network of deputies in the various industries for economic issues, banking, security, and counter-intelligence.
Paul was used to Dexter’s scrutiny by now. It didn’t faze him. He was aware that the two top leaders of the Sixth Order weren’t who they said they were. He’d done extensive research prior to joining them. Just like him, they lived double lives under a disguise. It was so tight, he still hadn’t been able to infiltrate their inner circle.
Paul’s red wig and fake beard had become a part of him and he felt naked without it at times. His own persona was reserved for the selected few and those that worked with him. He owned and ran two lucrative companies under his alias, Paul Burgess, which he had built-up as part of his disguise―and with his contacts in the Government, it was airtight. No one would ever find out about it, unless he wanted them to. He enjoyed the monetary rewards as the Bossam of the Sixth Order but he also knew that he was the patsy should they ever get caught. But, Paul had been clever. He had set up a new management structure which ensured his own role would be safeguarded.
“I’m glad William is a good fit for the team. Now I can concentrate on what’s important,” Paul said. He took the cigar Dexter offered him.
It was his job to increase the revenue and footprint of the Sixth Order in the US and across their borders into Canada and Mexico as well as the human trafficking trade into Saudi Arabia and if he had his way, Africa eventually. He had made himself indispensable over the years. He knew it as well as Dexter did.
“We might have to eliminate Prince Khalid Saud,” Dexter began as soon as the waiter served them their starters and left as quietly as he’d appeared.
“That would mean our sex trade would take a knock,” Paul said between bites.
“We’ll find another avenue to operate in Saudi Arabia.”
“I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”
Dexter briefly explained the conversation he’d had with Khalid Saud and his intention to take the next shipment of sex slaves back with him.
“What the fuck is his problem? Doesn’t he realize the risk he’s taking by transporting the merchandise openly out of the country?”
“He’s becoming a liability in this operation—a loose cannon. I’m quite surprised. He has always been very careful about how things are done; down to the last-minute detail. Something is driving him. I want you to find out what,” Dexter said with a dark undertone in his voice.
Paul knew how much Dexter hated surprises and it was obvious that he found something afoot.
“I’ll look into it.” Paul took the last bite of the succulent prawns.
“Have you found out anything about the possible spy, Sean Scott, who might have infiltrated the human trafficking ring? My contact assured me that the lead is accurate. If he is a spy, it means our entire operation is in danger.”
“We went to Sean Scott’s property. We searched every nook and cranny. If he’s in any way connected to the government or part of a covert operation, there’s no sign of it at his house.”
“Hm, what does your gut say about him? Should we drop it or pursue it further?”
“A woman was there when the team went back to finish their search. She gave them the slip, but we tracked her license plate. She’s Scott’s sister.”
Dexter became quiet, but his eyes remained in sharp focus as he stared at the man in front of him. “And Scott himself? Have you found any trace of him?”
“According to what we’ve managed to uncover, he’s supposedly guiding an expedition in the Arctic. He’s as stealthy as a drone. Guz is continuing with his cyber search. If he shows his face anywhere in the country, he’ll find him. Do you want me to question his sister?”
“No. Keep an eye on her though. Unobtrusively. We don’t want to alarm her. She might be the one to lead us to him. But, I don’t want to draw any attention to us. We don’t move on Scott unless we know for sure that he’s involved and what danger he presents to us. Is that clear?”
“Don’t concern yourself, Dexter. I’ll take care of it.”
* * * * * * * *
Saudi Arabia
“That’s fantastic news! It will be fun visiting some of my favorite shops again,” Delia cried excitedly. Her eyes glimmered at the prospect of travelling again. Khalid had never allowed her to visit the US. He only took her on trips to Australia, Europe and Africa. She’d been dying to go back to America, even for a short trip.
“Whatever makes you think you will be accompanying me, wife? You should know better.” Khalid responded with a derisive snort. “No, you and Abdul will stay right here.”
Jaxon felt deflated. He’d been colluding with Steven Brown to give Khalid and his mother the slip to get out of the country. Now all that was for nothing. He didn’t even respond to the hated Arabic name the prince had forced on him.
“I’m tired of your sour face, Abdul. It’s time for you to accept your life here in Riyadh. It’s never going to change. You will be my successor. Be prepared, Abdul. When I return, your training will commence at the desert training commune.” He laughed boisterously. “They will whip the defiance right out of you. Once you graduate from there, you will willingly embrace your life as my adopted son.”
Jaxon knew better than to rise to the bait.
“I’m finished with my meal,” he said in excuse as he got up and walked out. He ignored the prince’s fuming order to return to the table until he had finished his meal.
“Shit!” Jaxon exclaimed at the sharp pain that seared from his arm to his brain. He glanced down, shocked to see the deep cut on the outside of his bicep. The knife Khalid had hurled at him clattered to the floor.
“Oh my god,” Delia exclaimed. Jaxon turned to see his mother with her hand over her mouth. She looked pale as she stared at the blood running down his arm.
“You will not disrespect me like that, boy. Sit down until I have finished my meal,” Khalid barked. His face was bloated and red with anger.
Jaxon’s spine straightened. His eyes flared in defiance. “Or what? Are you going to throw your fork at me? Or your spoon? No wait, why don’t you use the paring knife. At least that has a sharp point and you might just be lucky and kill me with the next one.”
Khalid was taken aback by the searing glare from the young boy. It reminded him of how Ethan Brodie had defied and taunted him even while he was being tortured.
“You're annoying me, Abdul. I’m not going to repeat myself. You will obey me. I said, sit down.” Khalid grated.
“Let me remind you, Prince Khalid,” Jaxon sneered with obvious hatred. “You’re not my father and I’ll never accept your authority over me. You might have my mother cowering in front of you, but you don’t scare me.”
Khalid surged upright. The chair clattered to the floor. The veins in his temples started to throb.
“You should be scared, boy. Your life is in my hands. I am the one who decides whether you live or die. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Then give the order, oh, mighty prince. Because I would rather die than live in this hellhole for the rest of my life with you as the king.”
Jaxon turned and walked away like he had all the time in the world; relaxed and at ease. Inside he was quivering, waiting for another attack. He’d stopped caring. He had no respect for Khalid, not after he’d overheard him boasting to his friends about the sex slaves that brought him so much money, while he had free reign to use all of them when he had the urge.
Jaxon had always suspected that Khal
id was involved with something illegal but never had any proof. Not that he could do anything with the knowledge. Prince Khalid Saud was more feared than The King himself. No one would dare oppose him or accuse him of human trafficking.
He felt sorry for the women, but he had no idea where they were kept or how to save them. He stood alone among millions in a country that was under Khalid's oppressive rule.
The closer he got to his rooms, the more depressed he became. He’d been dreaming about reuniting with his father but with Khalid accompanying Steven Brown and the horses, there was no way he’d be able to leave.
* * * * * * * *
His fury burned with dangerous intensity. What he’d just seen shook him to the core. He’d seen death many times, inhuman torture as many, but the level of cruelty toward young, innocent women, sickened him. A movement at the far end of the hallway caught his eyes. He slinked back into the shadows.
Sean Scott palmed the reassuring weight of the serrated knife in his fist. His muscles bulged in preparation, the anger now smoldering under his stony expression. The footsteps approached rapidly, at ease and without any thought of danger lurking around the corners.
“Hold up, Mohammed,” a nasal voice called in Arabic.
Sean balanced on the balls of his feet, his shoulders hunched forward. Two bulky Arabs who had been trained in hand-to-hand combat wouldn’t be child’s play. He itched to lurch forward and slit the bastard, Mohammed’s throat. He was still wearing the self-satisfied smirk that Sean had seen on his face when he’d ruthlessly cut the white skin of a young girl. Sean estimated her age to be no more than sixteen years. Her horrified screams as he dragged the knife around her breasts, still echoed in Sean’s ears. If not for the four guards in front of the door, he would’ve slit his throat there and then.
“That little slut screamed like a pig in a slaughter house, didn’t she? Made my cock as hard as a steel rod.” The man with the nasal voice said when he reached Mohammed.
“Didn’t stop you from gorging yourself on her, right?” Mohammed chortled.