by Gemma Hart
“Danger?” I asked.
I was not surprised at all to hear this. Seems like his time had finally come. There was no way to live a life like that and not get caught in the crossfires.
“Seems he’s been doing some double dealings with competing cells,” Commander Wolffe explained, his voice clearly exhausted and annoyed by Randall’s continued foray into dangerous crimes. “And now they want his head for it.”
“What are our orders?” I asked.
“Stand down,” Commander Wolffe replied immediately. “And standby. There might be some internal battles between certain terrorist cells to bring down Randall themselves for his crooked dealings. That could make the area unstable. I’ll be in contact with Carew and talk to him about a possible evacuation for the medical volunteers. If that happens, we’ll need Easy Team to escort them safely to the airstrip.”
My chest tightened a little at the thought of losing Emilia so soon but this was better. It would be safer for her and for the medical team. And then once we were relieved from Qunar, I’d see her again in L.A. and we could pick up right where we left off.
“Very good, sir,” I said. “We’ll be on alert.”
“Good man,” Commander Wolffe said before hanging up.
I sighed as I lowered the phone. Hopefully this meant the end of Randall and the shady reign of terror he had inflicted on so many helpless people.
Finally I found my way to the showers and immediately stripped myself to wash off the dirt and sweat from the last few days. The waters ran dark as it sluiced through my hair, stiff with the rubble of the city.
Coming out of the showers, I saw Bear sitting by the edge of the tent with a book in his hand, his hair damp from his own shower.
“Who’s on guard?” I asked, trying and failing at holding back a yawn.
“Not you,” Bear said simply, not even looking up from his book. He turned a page. “Get some sleep, Cap. I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.”
“Can’t argue with an order like that,” I mumbled before collapsing onto my cot and falling into a deep, dark sleep that sank into my body like an anchor.
I fell asleep with Emilia’s luminous eyes shining in my mind.
***
“Hawk! Hawk, wake up.”
Instantly, I jerked up. No matter how deep a sleep I was in, no matter how exhausted my body was, I never had a problem waking up the instant I was beckoned or alerted.
“What? What is it?” I asked, my voice still husky with sleep. I rubbed the heel of my hands into my eyes and looked up and saw Tweety standing in front of me. “Where’s Bear?”
“He’s helping the med team pack up some supplies,” Tweety replied.
“Pack up supplies? For wha—”
“Hawk, you should come out,” Tweety said, his face carrying an odd expression. “There’s someone here to see you.”
I was brought up short by this statement. Someone was here to see me? That seemed high unlikely considering we were in the middle of nowhere and all the people who knew me by name were in this camp.
“Alright,” I said and got up and followed him out.
I blinked in the harsh daylight. Even though I was just waking up, I could tell the light was late afternoon light. Still, it pierced my eyes like a white hot needle.
Getting my vision back, I saw with some surprise my guest.
A thin, ragged little boy stood before the Easy Team barracks and was holding, for some mysterious reason, a sleek black briefcase with both hands.
He looked up at me with large almond shaped eyes, his cheeks still round but slightly sunken from hunger.
“What can I help you with?” I asked the boy in Qunari.
When the boy stared at me blankly, I asked the question again in Pakreshi. This time, he understood.
The boy held up the briefcase. “This is for you,” he said quietly.
It was one surprise after the other, it looked like. Tweety raised a brow, clearly taken aback.
“The boy wouldn’t let me take the briefcase,” Tweety explained in English to me. “He said he had been ordered to give it directly to the Captain of the Americans.”
“Ordered?” I said. “Ordered by whom?”
Tweety shrugged. “The million dollar question. He won’t say.”
“Who gave you the briefcase?” I asked the boy.
The boy said nothing but stared at me with those large solemn eyes.
“I was told to give this to you, sir,” he simply said.
I eyed the boy carefully but clearly, whoever had ordered him had put the fear of god in him.
“Are you from the refugee camp?” I asked.
The boy nodded.
I sighed. “Then you must be hungry,” I said. Turning to Tweety, I said, “Why don’t you take the boy in and give him some food?” I put out my hand for the briefcase. The boy quietly handed it over. “I’ll take a look at this.”
Tweety hesitated. “But don’t you think we should get Dozer or Bear to look at the case before you open it?”
Bear and Dozer were our explosive experts. But I waved away Tweety’s concerns. I might not have as much expertise as Bear and Dozer but I wasn’t a complete idiot as well.
I could tell by the weight of the case and the latchings that this held no explosives.
“It’s fine,” I said. “Take the boy in and feed him. Maybe after some food, he’ll be more talkative for us.”
Tweety finally gave in and took the boy away.
Sitting down on a stool, I pulled another stool forward and placed the briefcase on it. Carefully, I unlatched it and opened it a half an inch. I ran my fingers carefully through the edges. No trip wires. No pressure points.
Although I believed that the case held no explosives, no harm in being careful.
I opened the case fully and looked down in surprise at the small black phone it held.
The phone was an older model but was in nearly brand new condition. It sat cushioned on gray foam.
I picked up the phone and flipped it open. A tiny piece of paper fell out.
I picked up the paper and unfolded it.
Dial 1.
That was all that was written.
What the fuck is all this?
But I couldn’t help feeling a tingle run down the back of my neck. And I was never one to ignore my gut feelings. Something was wrong and I was about to find out just how wrong it was.
I punched the 1 button and pressed ‘call.’
I heard the phone ring twice before a familiar voice answered.
“Ah, Captain,” Randall said in pleasant greeting. “So nice to hear from you!”
I sighed in frustration as my body tensed at just the mere sound of the traitor’s voice. Every time I heard his name, let alone his voice, the image of dozens of dead bodies came instantly to mind. And now, thanks to the mission in Qunar, I could add the image of dozens of lost little girls as well.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I said, thinking about Commander Wolffe’s orders.
Stand down.
People were on the hunt for Randall already. It was better to let them take him out than to get involved when we had so many civilians under our care at the moment.
“I’m glad to see my little deliveryman got to you,” Randall said, ignoring my question. “You never know with this lot. They’re as dumb as they look usually. But I guess that one seemed to understand direction.”
I put my hand over eyes, squeezing my temples while trying not to let anger and frustration overwhelm me. How many lives had this one man ruined or destroyed?
“What do you think you are doing?” I asked again, bitingly.
“Always the conversationalist, aren’t you?” Randall replied dryly. “You’d think you’d be a little more ingratiating towards me, all things considered.”
I snorted. “All things considered? I’m betting that you’re on the run right now, Randall. Your troubles have been coming in loud and clear on the chatter.”
Ev
en without words, I heard the annoyance and anger travel through him. And it gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction to hear it.
“I’ve always been quite popular,” he said, his tone a little strained in anger.
“Oh yeah, popular for sure,” I concurred dryly. “So popular that multiple terrorist cells will be coming after that hide of yours. That’s some special talent you got there.”
“Well,” he said shortly, “I appreciate that this saves me some time in explanation since you’re already informed of my current situation.”
“So then I guess I’ll ask again,” I said tersely. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Asking for your help,” Randall replied without hesitation.
“Well now you’ve really lost that head of yours,” I said. “You must be fucking nuts if you thought that would work.”
Randall chuckled softly. “I’m sorry. I did lose my head for a moment. I didn’t mean ‘ask.’ I meant to say, I’m demanding your help.”
“Good fucking luck getting it,” I said, gripping the phone in lieu of his throat.
Randall snorted. “As it happens, I think I’ll have plenty of luck in that regard.” I heard him shuffle in his seat as he turned. “Won’t I, sweetheart?” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke away from the phone.
I heard a struggle and a voice shout out, “Don’t fucking touch me!”
Immediately, my entire body plunged into an icy freeze. I nearly snapped the phone in two.
That had been, without a doubt in my body, Emilia.
It had been Emilia’s voice.
I immediately stood up and ran towards the medical tent. I saw Bear standing in front of the tent with Doc Jones, a couple packed boxes in front of them.
I hailed Bear.
“Where is she?” I demanded as soon as he got within distance. “Where is Emilia?”
Bear stared at me in slight alarm. I must’ve looked deranged as anger and worry pulsed through me like a virus.
“She went to the camp,” he said slowly. “The UN workers asked for any volunteers since they were running shorthand. Dr. Lyon and Margie went down to help them.”
“Get them on the radio now!” I said just as Randall started laughing in my ear. Of course Emilia would’ve volunteered herself. She would’ve been the first one to step up once she had heard help was needed.
“Get who on what radio?” he teased. “The one you’re looking for is sitting right here, next to me. And I have to say, Captain, your tastes haven’t faded in the least.”
“What the fuck do you want?” I breathed through my teeth. I watched as Bear radioed into the camp.
“See, that’s why I was saying you should be a lot nicer to me, all things considered. ‘All things’ being this sweet little doctor you seem to have fallen for,” Randall said, clearly pleased to reveal his trump card.
I heard a muffled struggle through the phone and could all too clearly imagine Randall touching Emilia’s soft cheeks as she tried to fight against him. I was sure my muscles would snap in two from the tension that ran through me.
“Cap,” Bear said, rushing over with his radio in one hand, “Margie says she hasn’t seen Dr. Lyon for hours. They had been working separate parts of the camp. But some of the refugees are saying they saw a black truck come and take her away.”
“I think I’ve finally gotten your attention now,” Randall said. “So why don’t I tell you now what I need?” He cleared his throat and said firmly, “I need you to get me out of Qunar.”
“What,” I said, not even fully aware of speaking aloud. I was in a cloud of rage and anger and could hardly be aware of any words that passed through my lips. But I knew I had to remain calm. I had to get more information if I wanted to get Emilia back.
“The chatter’s right,” Randall continued. “There are quite a few people angry with me. Angry enough to kill me. So I need to get out of here. I need guaranteed safe passage out of Qunar.”
“Nothing’s guaranteed,” I said tightly. “And with a high value target like you, the guarantees are even less.”
“Then the doctor dies,” Randall said calmly. “And you’ll be receiving packages of her body parts for the next year. Won’t he, sweetheart?” I heard Emilia cry out in pain followed by a small grunt from Randall. I could only imagine what Randall was doing and it made me nearly go blind in anger to not know.
But one thing was clear: Emilia was not taking anything lying down. That had been Randall who had grunted and I hoped that Emilia had given him a good knee in the balls.
“Where is our meet point?” I said through gritted teeth. Bear was watching me warily, his own fists clenched as he guessed just who was behind this entire mess.
“There we go,” Randall said in a pleased tone. I could hear the relief behind his words. The man was desperate. He knew just how close his neck was to the guillotine. “I knew you just needed the proper motivation. We’ll meet at the tent camp where you found my products.”
“With Emilia,” I said firmly.
“Ah well, I don’t know about that,” Randall said. “She’ll remain behind and once I’ve been securely transported out of the country, my men will release her—”
“No,” I said in steely firmness. “This mission is only carried out with Emilia present. Or else, no dice.”
Randall knew he had me by the balls. I would do anything to rescue Emilia. But I knew that the man was desperate. Extremely desperate. He needed to get out of this country to live and I was his only option for survival.
We had to make this agreement or else we’d be stuck at this impasse.
“Fine then,” Randall said. “I’ll give it a think. Keep the phone handy and I’ll let you know my decision. But,” his voice dropped in annoyance, “you should know that if I go down, this girl will most definitely go down with me. And terrorist cells don’t have the best policy when it comes to women. Remember that.”
The line died with a click.
It took a moment before my rage caught up with my indignation.
“FUCK!” I roared as I fought the desire to throw the phone against a tree. I breathed heavily, feeling the beast of anger claw within me.
“Where is Randall headed?” Bear asked, not bothering with any preliminaries.
Doc Jones stared at us in shock and confusion. “Who is Randall? What’s happened to Emilia?” he asked.
“No location,” I said, my voice almost shaking in rage. “But he’s got her. And he wants safe passage in return for her.”
Bear shook his head. “Safe passage where? If he’s wanted by one cell, he’ll be wanted by all cells. He has no safe space in a 3,000 mile radius!”
I swallowed tightly, trying to control my emotions. They would do me no good in rescuing Emilia.
Randall had contacted me not only because I was his only option but because he knew we had come in for a peacekeeping mission. That meant we were not properly equipped for a rescue mission. We had our basic armory but that wouldn’t be enough against whatever Randall and his men would have.
He knew that he had the upper hand against us and even though we were equally matched in desperation (he had to get out and I had to get Emilia), he had the addition of superior firepower. And that did make all the difference.
But the fucker had been out of Easy Team far too long if he thought that was enough of an obstacle for me to give up.
“I don’t know when Randall will call back,” I said. “But we need to move fast in the interim. Get Dozer. Call some contacts. We need some weapons. Mainly a sniper rifle. Some C4 would be handy too. Go.”
Without a backwards glance, Bear rushed off to find Dozer. No matter where Easy Team went, no matter what the mission was, we made sure to recon and site out all the useful contacts within the region. We always found at least a handful of contacts into the local black market and usually made connection with one or two territory leaders.
And Qunar had been no different.
If we were given enough ti
me, Randall’s last trump card of superior firepower would be demolished.
Then we’d be left evenly matched. He with his fight for survival and me with my fight for Emilia.
“Where is Emilia?” Doc Jones asked again, grabbing my arm. His eyes were wide with worry and fear. The normal mask of sarcastic humor was gone. “Is she in danger?”
I stared at the older man. He was clearly like a father to Emilia. I had seen the close relationship the two had had. For some reason, it soothed me fractionally to be with someone who clearly loved Emilia as much as I did.
“Yes,” I replied tightly. “But not for long.”
Chapter Nineteen
Emilia
I looked around the room frantically, trying to make sense of my surroundings as panic rose within me.
Get a grip, Em! Get a grip on yourself!
But it was hard to do that when I was sitting in an unfamiliar building with my hands tied behind me and facing a man who had threatened to gun down three dozen girls and myself only a few weeks ago.
“I have to say,” Randall said as he leaned against a wall, staring out a window. The sky was turning a deep blue as it settled into night. “I’ve never heard Hawk so worked up over a girl before. You must’ve really worked some magic over him.”
“Where are we?” I demanded. My tongue felt floppy in my mouth. After the phone call to Cooper, one of Randall’s men had gagged me with a bit of rags and my lips were chapped and my tongue feeling odd and dry.
“What does it matter?” Randall asked, not looking over at me. “Would you know it if I told you? All you need to know is that you’re with me and you’re with me until Hawk makes up his mind about letting you live or die.”
“I doubt that’s his decision,” I muttered, unable to help myself.
Randall finally turned, his lean face breaking into an unexpected smile as he looked at me. “Well,” he said with a measure of modesty, “I might’ve helped push him into the situation.”