Black-Market Body Double (S.A.S.S. Book 1)
Page 29
Intriguing. “Put him on notice,” Kate said. Her heart hammering, she looked down the cave. Pale light glinted on the water’s surface as far as she could see. This compound—every instinct in her body screamed this cave was a GRID compound—appeared to be as unique as the others discovered by the S.A.S.S. units—and as problematic to breach. Underwater entrance: one means of ingress and egress. If Kate ran into trouble, escaping would be significantly challenging, which was probably why Kunz had chosen this one.
“Okay, the commander has been notified,” Maggie said. Then her tone dropped a notch. “He also delivered some bad news, Bluefish.”
“What now?” Kate snapped, unable to keep her irritation out of her voice.
“Douglas and his team are unavailable. The commander is trying to make contact but the team’s been locked down and radio silent for almost twenty-four hours.”
“Do they need backup?”
“No. They’re functional, just out of pocket.”
Not pinned down by someone else, just locked down observing someone else, Kate supposed.
“There’s more.” Even the terminally cheerful Maggie sighed. “The commander informed me that the CIA and Special Forces have scoured the hills above you from land. Apparently there’s a maze of caves. But an intense exploration netted only dead ends.”
Kate chewed at her inner lip, fully understanding why the compound had been nearly impossible to locate. Her mind raced ahead as she crept through the bowels of the cave, her left shoulder scraping against the jagged rock wall, her fins scouring the sandy bottom. Launching a successful attack on this place wouldn’t be a picnic. Actually, it’d be borderline impossible. Alone, her odds of success were astronomically small. And that, too, no doubt had been Kunz’s intention.
“I updated the boss,” Maggie said. “She’s ordered me to remind you that you’re under a direct order to pull out now and to wait for tactical assistance before reentering.”
Kate considered it. The odds for her survival, and for the survival of the American detainees Kunz was holding hostage—if in fact any of them were here—ranked a one on the colonel’s infamous one-to-ten scale: zero probability of success. The mission difficulty ranked ten. Translated and simply put, succeeding required a miracle.
And who dies if you fail, Kate?
The fears and old feelings of not being good enough to do what needed doing shot up out of a dark, secret niche inside her. She’d buried all that unworthiness baggage years ago, but the memory of it persisted, as ingrained things do, and on occasion it surfaced. Naturally, because the timing couldn’t be worse, it had chosen to surface now.
Resentment slid through her and, steeped in it, she stiffened, clenched her jaw and strengthened her resolve. Knock it off. Now, Kate. You can’t afford any doubts. Bio weapons, classified information on only God knows what programs... Millions of potential victims are depending on you, and they definitely can’t afford any doubts.
Summoning her will, which had always proven stronger than her fears, she shoved her doubts back down, burying the emotional baggage that just wouldn’t die, then turned her thoughts back to the challenge at hand.
As well as that one means of ingress and egress through an underwater cave, and the compound being inside a hill of rock, other challenges lay ahead.
Significant challenges.
Aided by former Soviet plastic surgeons and psychiatrists with expertise in psychological warfare and mind manipulation, Kunz had created doubles. Very well-trained, well-motivated clones. She would have to determine which people were GRID operative clones and which were true U.S. government employees.
As if that wasn’t enough of a challenge to make sane woman nuts, Kunz would more than likely spice up things to amuse himself by adding his own cloned surrogate into the mix. It would be just like him to mimic Saddam Hussein, pose his double to GRID members and have him run operations in the compound while Kunz remained removed from the fray.
This man-made clone, without a doubt, would be surrounded by seasoned GRID operatives who existed for the sole purpose of protecting him from any enemy, including Kate.
The real Thomas Kunz—thank heaven and Amanda and Kate—had had been arrested during the last GRID compound raid. He currently sat stashed behind bars in Leavenworth. Whether he remained in command of GRID, running operations from his prison cell or had handed over power to some subordinate GRID member remained undetermined.
If betting, Kate would put her money on his empowering a double. It’d be more effective—especially if the GRID members didn’t know he was a double.
That was possible. S.A.S.S. had encountered one Kunz double already and unfortunately had no idea how many others existed. Hopefully he hadn’t copied Saddam Hussein, in that, too. He had at least eight known doubles. Yet with Thomas Kunz, experience proved it wise to pray for the best but to expect the worst.
The sorry broker probably had a dozen.
Under these circumstances, would even a single miracle do the job?
Unsure success wouldn’t require a series of them, Kate tightened her grip on her knife, dragged in a steadying breath and admitted the truth. Her odds were as bad as they get. She’d need at least a fistful of miracles to pull this off.
The back of her neck prickled. She removed her mask and opened her senses, then slowly turned in a circle and studied everything in sight. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Calm. Silent. Just her and the moving water and eerie light. Definitely hyper-alert.
Giving herself a mental shake, she finished weighing her challenges and then turned to plans. How should she proceed? What moves gave her the highest probability of success?
Water splashed and hit her full in the face. The strong salt stank and had her eyes tearing. She wiped at them with her free hand and mentally worked through potential plans of action. She couldn’t just blow the compound to the moon and back as she had the first one she’d found in the Middle East. Thomas Kunz’s surrogate and the GRID operatives would die, but so would the hostages—if any of them were here—and detonating biological-laced weaponry wasn’t something she would willingly do. Not in this lifetime.
She thought on it some more, certain she could find something to better her odds... Even if the explosives were strategically positioned and fitted out with remote detonators, they could cause a collapse in the cave. Percussion alone could kill anyone inside. Water was an amazingly effective conductor, it would amplify the effects.
Every way she looked at it, a person attempting to escape would face insurmountable odds, including her. And she’d have to be in the cave to relay the remote or the signal wouldn’t penetrate. There were alternative devices that could be used, but she couldn’t get them down here to use them. Not without help.
She played with a few more possibilities, but none were feasible much less wise, which left her with only one viable solution: to return to the outpost and draft a plan enlisting the aid of Douglas’s commander.
What was his name? Forest? Framer?
Forester. That was it. Forester. Nathan Forester.
Conditions wouldn’t improve substantially with his tactical help, but Kate would have slightly better odds of rescuing any hostages and surviving with—
Something slammed into her back.
Hard and huge, it knocked her off her feet, hammering her into the cave wall.
Her head collided with the saw-toothed surface. Her breath gushed out. The jagged rocks dug into her face and shoulder, slicing through her wet suit and skin, tearing her flesh. Salt water invaded the wounds, burning like fire. Seeing spots, her head swimming, she gasped for air. Focus or die, Kate. Focus or die!
Warm blood washed down her face and arm, and she forced herself to stay conscious.
Focus or die!
Pulling on reserves, she harnessed her energy and fought until the spots started to subside and the truth dawned.
The wise move was no longer an option.
Blocking out the pain searing her face,
arm, chest and thigh, she regained her footing and reacted on pure instinct. Choking the handle of her knife, she turned and swiped the air.
The fight had begun.
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About the Author
VICKI HINZE is the author of nearly forty novels, nonfiction books and hundreds of articles published in more than sixty-three countries. Her books have received many prestigious awards and nominations, including her selection for Who’s Who in the World (as a writer and educator), nominations for Career Achievement and Reviewer’s Choice Awards for Best Series and Suspense Storyteller of the Year, Best Romantic Suspense Storyteller of the Year and Best Romantic Intrigue Novel of the Year. She co-created an innovative, open-ended continuity series of single-title romance novels, an innovative suspense series, and has helped to establish sub-genres in military women’s fiction (suspense and intrigue and action and adventure) and in military romantic-thriller novels. Hinze loves genre-blending and blazing new trails for readers and other authors. She is a former columnist for Social-In Global Network and radio host of Everyday Woman.
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For a complete listing visit http://vickihinze.com/books