by Lisa Pietsch
Chapter Twenty-One
Sarah woke with a start to a knock on Vince’s bedroom door. Her mind was moving at a breakneck pace immediately. Her voice raspy from too many cigarettes the night before sounded alien to her. “What is it? Is there news?” She jumped out of bed without any thought to what she was wearing and opened the door.
Jason stood there with a serious look on his face. “Okay, sister, you’ve had eight down. Now it’s time to prep for war.”
She hugged Jason. “Now you’re talkin!” Sarah didn’t bother to close the door. These guys had seen her in bikinis and underwear both on the job and off so modesty was a waste of time and energy. She slipped on a pair of jeans and light combat boots and tied the tails of the oxford shirt she’d worn to bed around her waist. She turned to look at Jason as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. “Let’s do it.”
Jason led her down to the basement that she hadn’t yet had the opportunity to tour. They walked down a narrow staircase and came to an open steel door. Few people understood how Sarah’s mind worked. She was thankful that somehow Jason seemed to get her, to know that she needed some activity to keep her from focusing on her thoughts—thoughts that would run away with her mind and make her go mad with anxiety over what might be happening to Vince.
Sarah examined the wall as they passed through the door.
One foot of concrete.
“This thing looks like a war pod, built to sustain a serious blast.”
“Have you been down here yet?” Jason kept walking. “Welcome to the rumpus room.”
Sarah looked around with wonder. She’d seen the guys come down here to use the office but had no idea Vince had the equivalent to a small military base in his basement.
All this is Vince’s. I know so little about him.
“No, haven’t had a chance. I thought it was just an office.”
“Hah! Girl, this is a one-stop war shop!”
Jason pointed to an open door on the left. “That’s the armory.”
Sarah looked in to see racks of rifles and handguns lining the walls, an arsenal that could easily match any Air Force police armory she’d ever seen. Two large stainless steel islands for gun cleaning and repairs glistened in the center of the room.
Brian was inside packing what looked like bricks of C-4 explosive into a black duffel bag. He looked well rested in jeans and a gray T-shirt that hugged his thickly muscled chest and arms. “Morning, darlin’.”
“Hi, Brian. Getting ready for detonation day?”
He grinned and nodded. “Packing party poppers.”
She returned his smile. “Nice.”
Jason pointed to a door behind Brian. “That door leads to the tunnel that goes up to the hangar. Keeps everything literally on the down low.” He motioned to a door across the hall from the armory. “That’s the office. Secure phone and satellite communications. Chris has been in there taking pictures for hours.”
Sarah opened the door and peeked in to see a haggard Chris rubbing his eyes. “Hey, Chris. Have you slept yet?”
Chris rubbed the blond beard growing on his chin. All the guys had gone native and started growing beards when they arrived in Dubai. “Not so much. I’m starting to appreciate the Agency intelligence geeks who usually do our prep work.”
Sarah walked into the office, gave him a hug, and playfully ran her fingers through his golden blond curls.
He closed his eyes and seemed to relax for a moment. “Mmm…”
“Hang in there, honey.”
He breathed deeply and kept his eyes closed for a moment. “Thanks, doll.”
Sarah looked back at Jason. “What else is down here?”
“Storage. Food. Supplies. War gear. Shooting range. Let’s go to the armory. I need some help getting the big guns mounted on the choppers. Do you think you can remember your way around a Mark-19?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Oh, yeah.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vince had been waiting in comfort most of the day until the big Aussie summoned him for another audience with Nikolai. He sat in the chair he’d been shoved into by the Australian.
Nikolai seemed hard at work at his desk, no doubt still tracing the paper trail Victor left the Italian authorities upon his untimely death—when Vince had put a bullet right between his eyes.
When Vince’s team had taken Victor out in Italy, the Italian authorities grounded and impounded all of his aircraft that were between flights in Italy. The entire fleet had been down for maintenance so arms dealers and drug dealers around the world were scrambling to find a secondary means of transport.
Vince let a satisfied sigh escape through a smile as he thought about how Nikolai must be taking the brunt of the workload on this one.
Nikolai looked up from the papers he’d been reading. “It seems your busy friends have just—pfft!—fallen off the map.” He handed an eight by ten photo to Vince. “That’s a very flattering dress on Sarah, isn’t it? Isn’t that Will with her?”
Vince looked at the photo. Sarah and Will were walking up the steps to a large house, maybe even a mansion. The address was in Arabic so it might be in Saudi Arabia.
State Department, maybe? It couldn’t be.
The government would disavow any knowledge of, or relationship with Vince. They were certainly dressed for diplomacy.
A back door source, maybe? Their driver wore traditional robes, but I know Brian’s profile, even in a dark photo. The photo is dated. Was it yesterday? They must be close.
Vince’s heart warmed and his resolve strengthened. He had every faith they’d find him before it was too late. This photo was all he needed to keep him going.
He took one last look at Sarah in the photo.
Soon.
“Yeah, she’s a good looking woman, Nikolai. Too bad you let her get away.” He tossed the photo on Nikolai’s desk.
“Don’t pity me, Vince. I have my best men on it. She’ll be coming around sooner than you think.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing her again.” Vince smiled and meant every word.
“Enough chitchat.” Nikolai tossed the photo aside. “Have you considered my proposal?”
Vince took the cigarette Nikola offered. He paused to light it and take a drag. He squinted through the smoke. “I have.” He nodded. “I need some more information before I give you my answer.”
“Oh, really? I thought the proposal was quite clear.”
“It was when it came to what I had to give you. It wasn’t very clear about what I’d get out of the deal.”
Nikolai leaned back in the big leather desk chair. “Your cut is simple. You get twenty percent of each transaction. It is the most generous deal I’ve ever offered anyone.”
“It is generous. The thing is I can’t quite help but wonder why it is so generous. It sounds a little too good to be true and, in my experience, if it seems too good to be true it probably is.”
Nikolai sighed and leaned his elbows on the desk in front of him. He leaned forward and his voice dropped slightly.
“It is so generous because you have something of high value to me and because torture is so Cold War. I’m progressive. I would rather motivate in a positive manner and give you a reason to come into business willingly rather than grudgingly.” He tilted his head slightly. “There is no reason we can’t be friends, Vince.”
“Well, then you won’t mind me taking another night to think about it.”
“Of course not. Just realize that if my men find Sarah before you and I set a deal, my offer will be withdrawn. You may want to consider taking me up on it now while you still have something to bring to the table.”
Vince stubbed out the stump of a cigarette. “I understand.”
Nikolai motioned to the Aussie. “Please take our guest back to his room and see that he has a good dinner.” Nikolai nodded to Vince and spoke more of an order than a request. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Vince grinned wide. ”I sup
pose the Italian authorities’ seizure of everything in Victor’s office has set your bookkeeping back a bit, huh?”
Nikolai glared at Vince. “Get out.”
Vince reveled in the satisfaction of knowing he’d inconvenienced Nikolai if only just a little and stood to leave. “No problem.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sarah slung two spare barrels over her shoulder and hefted two M-60 machine guns through the tunnel following Jason, who carried a Mark-19 automatic grenade launcher and the helicopter mount.
Sarah and Jason had become regular drinking buddies between missions when they were living in Las Vegas. Jason liked to get into the posh clubs and having Sarah on his arm made it possible. Sarah liked to go slumming every once in a while and just hang out at a dive bar shooting pool. Having Jason with her always put her on the winning side in any brawls that broke out.
Jason was also her sparring partner and sensei of sorts in her fighting training. She was used to Jason being the muscle, especially when they got into bar brawls, but she was still impressed that he could throw a seventy-five pound gun over his shoulder and walk at a steady clip without leaning. She was suddenly aware of how very physically, financially and intellectually powerful her friends were and considered herself lucky to be a part of their little family.
At the end of the tunnel, they came to an elevator.
“This stuff isn’t cheap, Jase. Where did Vince get the money for all this?”
Jason pushed the button for the elevator. “Sarah, no self respecting arms dealer could hold his head up in the international underworld without a setup like this. It’s all trappings of the trade.”
“So the Agency paid for all this?”
“In a manner of speaking. The Agency doesn’t like to sign off on stuff like this. Generally, you need to set up your sales to go to two different accounts. One account belongs to the Agency and the other to you.”
They stepped on to the elevator. “So it is standard operating procedure to skim?”
Jason pressed the elevator button. “In a word? Hell, yeah.”
The floor of the hangar above them opened up and they found themselves at the far back of the hangar. Jason set the Mark-19 on the clean, polished floor near several, neatly stacked, black canvas bags. “Just leave those here for now.”
Sarah stared at the guns and the bags of explosives and ammo. Something clicked in her head and she stopped. Dread swept over her like a cold breeze and she shivered.
Even these aren’t guarantees of Vince’s safety.
She croaked through the frog in her throat. “Jason?”
Jason turned to face her. “Yeah?”
“Are we going to be able to do this?”
He grinned and his eyes wrinkled with laughter. “Any monkey, even an Air Force cop like you, can mount an M-60 to a chopper, Sarah.”
Sarah found no humor in the joke today. Her shoulders sank, and she shook her head. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
The laughter left his hazel eyes. His voice dropped a little deeper like it always did when he was serious, which wasn’t very often. “I know, Sarah.” He grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Never, ever allow room for doubt in your head, your heart, or your gut. We’ve got the best equipment and people in the business right here on this little sandbar. Always remember, who dares, wins.”
“Where have I heard that before?”
“Okay, so it wasn’t original but it is appropriate. It’s the British SAS motto and it’s every bit the truth. Have you ever heard of the SAS failing, at anything?”
Sarah gulped back the frog in her throat. “No.”
“Exactly.” Jason shook her shoulders just enough to make his point but not enough to agitate her nearly healed gunshot wound. “We’re the heroes, Sarah. Don’t forget it. We’re going to save Vince, kill the bad guys and then we’ll all live happily ever after.”
Sarah wanted to cry and hated herself for it. She trusted Jason and needed his reassurance now as much as she needed to breathe. “How can you be so sure?”
Jason placed his hands on either side of Sarah’s head and pulled her close until their foreheads touched and their eyes were just inches apart. “Because the alternative is unacceptable and because we have this…” He wrapped an arm around Sarah’s waist and led her over to the covered helicopter and pulled the tarp away from the nose with a flourish. “Ta-da!”
“Jesus, Jason!” Sarah nearly squealed with excitement as she moved forward for a closer look. “Is that…?”
Jason walked around the helicopter, carefully removing the rest of the huge tarp. His muscled chest puffed up with pride, and his voice was clear and confident as he described what Sarah was looking at. “That’s right. Sikorsky’s finest. The MH-60L Direct Action Penetrator. Civilians just call it a Blackhawk helicopter but this bad boy has some special operations modifications.” He walked around the helicopter and pointed them out. “We’ve got Hellfire missiles with a maximum range of five miles.” He patted the barrel of a Gatling gun. “We’ve also got two M134D Gatling guns mounted as door guns.”
Sarah marveled at the fact that a civilian could acquire such a devastating piece of war machinery. “This is amazing!” She bounced up and down on her toes as a new optimism cleared the doubts from her mind for good.
Jason began spreading the huge tarp out on the floor of the hangar. “I’m glad you’re impressed. You helped us get a discount on this one. The day Vince dropped you off at Victor’s place he got a hundred thousand off the selling price.”
Sarah’s eyes opened wide. “I was worth a hundred thousand?”
Jason eyed her with disbelief. “You aren’t the fat girl any more, Sarah. Women like you go for way more than that on the black market. If you were mine, I wouldn’t part with you for any less than a cool million and a hard fight.”
Her heart warmed. Jason wasn’t normally a demonstrative guy, but the look in his eyes as he watched her told her he really meant that. Other women would be offended, but when your job is sleeping with bad guys for secrets, you like knowing your rate is a good one.
Not one to be serious for long, Jason rolled his eyes. “Now put your inflated ego away and help me fold this mother.”
Sarah took a deep breath and set to work. Time flew as they loaded ammunition and gear into the Blackhawk. The physical work helped Sarah to feel productive, like they were getting closer to finding Vince.
Jason stretched. “How about some chow?”
Sarah looked up from the ammunition she was loading into the chopper. “Who, me? Always.”
He smirked in his Cheshire cat way. “We can’t go into an operation with low blood sugar now, can we?”
They walked through the tunnel and back into the basement where Brian and Guinea were packing bags of war gear. Tactical vests, bulletproof vests, belts, and holsters were counted and packed into big black canvas bags.
Will and Chris were in the office checking maps, coordinates, and schedules.
Jason poked his head into the armory. “Who’s cooking tonight?”
Sarah knew full well he who asks gets the task and suspected it was a rhetorical question on his part.
Guinea looked up. “I put some cold cuts in the fridge this morning. There are some sandwich buns on the kitchen counter.”
“Cool, come on, Sarah. Let’s go make some sandwiches.”
Sarah followed Jason up the stairs.
“Stevens!”
Sarah stopped at the sound of Will’s voice but didn’t turn around on the stairs. “Yeah?”
“Telephone.”
Sarah hot footed down the stairs. Will handed Sarah the handset attached to the secure line in the office. “It’s Buffy Davidson. They want a face-to-face.”
Sarah realized Mark Davidson would be under constant surveillance due to his position as a political attaché. The only way they could do a face-to-face meeting was with Buffy. It made sense for her to meet with a woman rather than raise suspi
cions by meeting with a man. Sarah wondered why they had to do a face-to-face at all when they had a secure telephone line and Nikolai’s people were already on the lookout for Sarah. “Hello?”
“Sarah, it’s Buffy. We gave all the details to Will. You and I are going to meet for a shopping trip.”
“Thanks, Buffy, but the last thing I want to do is shop. Can’t you just give us the intel we need right now? We aren’t here on vacation.”
Buffy’s voice was terse. “I realize that, Sarah.”
Sarah’s patience slipped away like sand through an hourglass. “We can’t expect Nikolai to just keep Vince as a houseguest. Do you understand that lives are in the balance here? What if it were Mark? Wouldn’t you want to handle it quickly?”
“Sarah, you misunderstand. Of course, I would want to handle it quickly, but more importantly, I’d want to do it right. Just meet me in Dubai.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sarah observed Buffy from across the table. She appeared so plain in the abaya without makeup or her lovely, long blond hair showing. Sarah realized that was the point. They were both in abayas and with all the glamorously clad women milling about, two women in traditional garb blended into the background just as well as two palm trees might.
Buffy’s eyes were intent as she spoke in hushed tones. “Two women go in and out of Nikolai’s compound daily. One is the cook and the other is the maid. They always travel together. They live in the nearby village. Their family name is Al Han’ah.”
Sarah didn’t waste time asking where the information came from. Buffy wouldn’t risk the meeting if the Davidsons didn’t believe their source was good.
Brian walked up wearing the white robes Will had bought and sat to read a newspaper at the table next to them. He nodded at Sarah before opening his paper.
His meeting with the newly arrived mercenaries called in to assist in their rescue of Vince must have gone well. He smiled as he read an Arabic newspaper and watched Sarah from the corner of his eye.
Buffy slid an eight by ten photo across the table to Sarah. “As you can see from the satellite image, Nikolai’s compound is surrounded by wide open desert. There is a small village to the northeast, about two clicks away.”