Fight Fire With Fire.

by Amy J. Fetzer

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Riley, come on.” She grabbed his elbow, pulling, and he seemed to snap himself back from his grief.

  “We need to find Max.” Riley turned his attention to the Johor straits, the slums along the river. He prayed Max wasn’t caught in that. His throat tightened, the thrust of guilt coating his skin. God. Sebastian. Max. Riley pulled his comm-link from his back pocket and hit speed dial. There was no signal. Please, he thought. Not both of them.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, grasping her hand. “Now. Police get to you and it’s all over. This is going diplomatic, a terror attack. If anyone learns that was a CIA owned house, then the U.S. will be blamed.”

  “We’ve never had a concern, it’s covert.”

  “But I’m betting thirty thousand people didn’t die around it before either.” Riley tried his phone again, shaking his head.

  “We still have satellite contact,” she said to him and held his gaze as she addressed Ellie. “Base, total access for Riley.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, give him total access. Link to his comm. Talk to Riley as if it’s me, got that? Whatever he needs, do it.” He met her gaze, features pulling taut. She understood the look. She was breaking all the rules for him.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Riley gripped her hand. “Thank you.” She squeezed back. “We’ll find the truth, I swear it.” “All I want now is to locate Max.” “Base?” Safia said. “Keep calling Max till you have a link.”

  “But he won’t know what it’s about.”

  Safia looked back at the destruction, the splashes of blood against window and door frames. People were under all that. People she knew and who had nothing to do with Barasa, Red Shoes and this damn weapon.

  “Yes, he will.”

  Triad house

  Barasa grabbed Vaghn and ushered him belowstairs. He carried the laptop and phone, not about to let the young man near either.

  He looked over the roof of the car at Vaghn, the fluorescent bulbs turned a harsh light down on them.

  “I must commend you.”

  Vaghn frowned, looking confused.

  “How does it feel to have just murdered about thirty thousand people to pad your bank account?”

  Vaghn paled, the blood draining from his face. Suddenly he turned away and vomited, stumbling, his shoulder hitting a support post. He wretched violently, his hands braced on the nearest wall. Then he fell against it, his cheek on the cool concrete.

  “I thought as much. Rahjan.”

  Rahjan pulled him upright, then shoved a handkerchief in his fist before pushing him into the car. Vaghn curled into a ball in the corner, clutching his skull. Barasa got into the rear as Rahjan slid behind the wheel and started the engine. He eased the car onto the street. Emergency vehicle lights flashed as they passed them. Rahjan drove past the highway, taking side streets to their next location.

  He would not accommodate Odette. To do so would give her and this Professor the upper hand. Something he rarely relinquished. He’d take care of his little package, but he would use his own jet to deliver him. Being a hostage to the kindness of Odette was never his plan.

  Barasa glanced out the rear window when the car suddenly rocked on the road. Another smaller explosion, he thought. Gray smoke boiled toward the sky, bright against the moonless night. They were nearly ten miles from the explosion now.

  “Well done, Dr. Vaghn.”

  His gaze slid to the blond man where he huddled on the other side of the seat, clutching the door handle as if ready to leap to his death. Barasa doubted it. Vaghn was a bit less than a coward, yet without conscience. Until now apparently. Vaghn scrunched tighter to the door, staring into the sky, the flicker of neon signs and traffic lights making his skin sallow and gray. He hadn’t moved since emptying his stomach.

  Barasa dipped his hand inside his jacket, the feel of Italian silk reminding him that he had two more suits ready as he withdrew a cigar. He bit the tip, spitting it into his palm, then dumping it in the ashtray. Striking a match, he puffed.

  “Do you mind?” Vaghn whined. “Ah, feeling better?” “Not with that thing.” He opened the window a bit, turned his face into the breeze. Barasa handed him a bottle of water. He drank deeply, but kept his face in the wind. He really was young, Barasa thought. “Your ass is grass, ya know,” Vaghn said. “She’s pissed.” Barasa didn’t care. “I didn’t lose it, and they have paid the price.” Vaghn turned his head slowly, his skin paler. “Did you not think your success would have a cost you couldn’t put in your pocket? If this is a test, Dr. Vaghn, imagine what your creations will do in the hands of the Professor.”

  “You don’t know him either?” He shook his head. “My preference, actually.” He didn’t need to know, and though he’d spent consider able time searching for his identity, he’d been unsuccessful. It warned him that he’d underestimated the Professor. The man had come to him through Barasa’s own connections. It was the first time he’d taken his associates at their word, and would be the last.

  Vaghn coughed, then slumped in the seat. “Where are we going now?”

  “Do you really care?”

  “No,” he said sullenly, and closed his eyes. “Not anymore.”

  “Then get some rest, Vaghn. You’ll need it. We have just begun this ride.”

  Vaghn lifted his head, met his gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “Millions for one device that’s already destroyed? You will create more, Dr. Vaghn.”

  His expression went flat. “Not for you.”

  Barasa laughed, then relaxed into the seat, dragging on his cigar. “I believe the Professor will have a different opinion. Or he doesn’t get to have you.”

  Vaghn would be put to work. Barasa didn’t know how exactly since that blast would bring considerable news interest. But the Professor had a plan for the weapons and whatever it was, he’d leave his mark on the world. Experience had taught Barasa that anyone wanting a weapon—already had a target.

  Sungei Kadut

  Singapore

  Riley kept his balance with hers as she rode them around the perimeter of the damage. He scanned the area for the square hatchback. All he saw was rubble. The blast had reached to the tenements where Dragon One had set up a command post. The structure looked as if the mortar between the bricks had dissolved, and the building simply fell over.

  He pointed over her shoulder and she veered right, turning between buildings. He spotted the car just as she did and she sped toward it, sliding sideways as she braked. He was off the bike in a heartbeat, pushing debris from the crushed roof. The door was crumbled and Riley swung over the hood, coming in from the windshield. Max was head down and Riley saw blood.

  Safia left the motorcycle’s headlight turned on them.

  “Max? Buddy? Can you hear me?”

  Safia was on the other side, bending in and reaching for the seat latch. She pulled and the seat rolled back a few inches. Max moved, moaning.

  “Thank God,” Riley said, then louder, “Tell me where you’re injured.”

  “Well, it isn’t my hearing, for crissake.”

  Riley smiled and worked himself in. “Lean back if you can.”

  Max tried and Riley gripped the already cracked steering wheel and forced his weight on it. It broke, giving him room. The dented car ceiling was just a couple inches above his head and Max wasn’t small. It forced Max to work his shoulder around the crumpled roof, and he managed to get onto the seat, but with little leverage. Riley pulled Max out.

  He lay on the hood of the car for a moment, chips of glass sparkling around him. “So tell me . . .” He breathed deep for a second. “What the hell was that?”

  When Riley didn’t respond Max lifted his head, then winced. He sat up slowly.

  “Let me look at that,” Safia said and held a square of cloth that looked like old draperies. “Best I could do.” She probed his wound, blotting it.

  Max ducked and took it f
rom her, whispering, “Thanks, I’m okay.”

  “You need a couple stitches.”

  “Later, thanks.” Holding the cloth to his head, he looked at Riley, “You’re too quiet.”

  Riley didn’t think it was any harder to accept than it was to see the explosion up close. His emotions crowded him, and he understood what his family and friends had felt when he was in a coma with about twenty broken bones. His sis-ter’s words came back to him, it was hard for us all. At least they’d had hope. This time, there was none. One of their own was dead.

  Max’s expression fell. He and Sebastian were close, had served together in the Marines. Max pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger, quiet. Riley felt the freshness of his own grief again and as if she knew it, Safia moved beside him. He curled his arm around her waist, kissed the top of her head.

  Max collected himself quickly. “The equipment had survived till this,” he said after a moment, flicking a hand at the car as he slid off. “Looks like we’ll need it.” He leaned on the fender for a few seconds. “We need something to pry back the metal.”

  Safia went to the rear of the car, inspecting. “I can get at it,” she said and tossed back bricks and shattered wood. Riley was behind her as she crawled inside. She was small enough to get between the crushed hood and tailgate, lying over jagged metal to reach the cases. He accepted whatever she handed out.

  “One of them is toast.” She pushed the thick silver case out the broken tailgate window. The dent was deep. “There’s only a bag of trash left.” She started to back out.

  “It’s from Vaghn’s apartment, get it,” Max said. “I’ll find some transport.” He started walking, but Riley stopped him, forcing him to just sit while he went in search of wheels. Max nodded but didn’t stay still, walking away from the car and staring in the distance. The sky glowed with fire and smoke.

  Safia let him have his peace and when he looked at her, she said, “Let’s find the little psycho. But Riley has first dibs on his method of madness.”

  Max smiled weakly. “Ya know, there’s a really ugly irony in an explosives expert being killed by a bomb while he slept.” He frowned. “There wasn’t anything else we brought inside?”

  “Barasa’s cell phone, Vaghn’s and his backpack. Do you remember what was inside it?”

  “Travel stuff. Music, games, cell phone, some clothes, and pills.” He shook his head, as confused as she was.

  “The sensors in the house are designed to pick up explosives. I don’t understand how it missed it.”

  “Maybe it’s new, whatever he used. The components didn’t register in the data.”

  She considered that. The system was updated regularly, but that didn’t mean there was something they hadn’t seen yet. She hated being unprepared. Now they had to start from scratch, she thought, turning with Max as car headlights bounced toward them.

  “Follow me,” she said when Riley braked beside them.

  “Where to?”

  “My place.”

  Ten

  Marina Bay

  Singapore

  The elevator doors opened with a soft hush.

  Riley glanced at Max as they hauled gear out of the lift. “My stomach is twenty floors below.” To prove it, his steps faltered.

  “She did mention it was the express elevator,” Max said, looking a little spacey too.

  Unaffected by the sixty-mile-an-hour ride up the skyscraper, Safia strode ahead to the only door in the corridor, whipped out a card and swiped it. She pushed inside and held the door for them, then shut it behind them before she went to an oblong control panel on the wall and reset alarms.

  She let out a short breath, then turned inside. “Welcome.”

  Riley looked around. “You live here?”

  “Home sweet home as it were.”

  “The government pays you a grand sight more than I thought.”

  It was huge, more like a house than a penthouse. Well, it wasn’t exactly the penthouse, but close. About forty floors up, there were only two more levels above. He set the cases down and Max went off to find a bathroom and wash up. Riley walked in, taking the two wide steps into the living room. Nothing blocked the panoramic view outside the long line of floor to ceiling windows. He could see most of Singapore and the bay. He crossed for a closer look, weaving around sofas and chairs wide enough for two people.

  “I got it for a song,” she said, striding toward the kitchen that faced the view. “It once belonged to a Chinese diplomat or something.” He glanced as she tapped a row of buttons on the wall, switching on the lights. “Some people are superstitious about living anywhere a murder was committed.”

  He turned from staring out the window, arching a brow.

  “Three actually. It was a brothel type place, for trysts with pricey escort services to visiting dignitaries.”

  A common practice around here, he thought and now he knew how she’d snagged it. Insider Intel. At least it was tastefully decorated in warm hues and not all tarted up. His gaze followed her as she moved quickly around the condominium, even pulling out her earphone before signing off. “We still have your tag on Vaghn, and we really can’t do anything till we get some information on the explosion,” she said.

  “There wasn’t anything left.” Riley felt his loss all over again and clenched his fists.

  “I know,” she said in a softer tone, walking closer. “Maybe Ellie can find something in a few hours.”

  “Are you telling me to go to bed?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  At about two in the morning, a bed sounded like a bit of peace in a bloody awful day. “Sharing it with me?” He couldn’t help tease.

  She tilted her head. “If it will make you feel better.”

  “Oh love, I don’t want you coming to me with sympathy.”

  She frowned, then he swore she blushed. The woman was completely unaware of what those brown eyes did to him. She was an expert in guarding her emotions and granted, her job wasn’t easy, but he liked pecking at that CIA shell.

  “See if the news has anything.” She went to the coffee table and opened a box, then held out the remote control. “I’m going to take that shower.”

  Riley’s lips tugged at the corners, a rather provocative image exploding in his mind.

  As if she read it, she said, “There are four bedrooms, all master suites and furnished. With the exception of the carpet and some drywall, it came that way. Make yourself at home.” She started to turn away, then met his gaze, something cracking in her expression. She crossed to him. “I’m sorry he’s gone.” She laid her warm hand on his chest and he covered it, then laced his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry. He seemed like a great guy, and I swear, I won’t give up until we get him some justice. I’ve got sources and we can go beat the ugly out of them whenever you’re ready.”

  “To learn what?”

  “Barasa, he’s the key to this.”

  “I disagree.”

  She shook her head before he went on. “Vaghn is his prisoner now, and don’t forget the woman. He was jumping to her tune. A complete contradiction to the arms dealer I’ve been tailing. Barasa throws his weight around, and he was on his phone just before that explosion. Ellie is trying to narrow it and maybe trace.”

  “We can track it from the cell tower that logs GPS and even turned off, it would show a charge.”

  “Base couldn’t lock on them all at that Triad house, but since she’s usually working so fast at the moment, she records everything via satellite.”

  Then she can pick it apart later, he thought. “That helps, but if it goes outside the Singapore tower area, we get only the last location. I need Base to access the GPS logs now and when it’s on, start a triangulation on the towers to get a lock.”

  She made a call, instructing exactly that, then hung up. “Now let’s hope Red Shoes makes it easier and uses it.” She stepped back from him. “Going for that shower,” she said, pointing over her shoulder and walking
backwards. “American beer is in the fridge.” She turned away and disappeared down a corridor that ran behind the kitchen.

  Alone, Riley glanced around, trying to make sense of this day. He went to the sofa and dropped onto it, then worked off his boots. He was tempted to makes some calls, but it could wait. Nothing would change till morning, and Riley admitted he was still trying to grasp that Sebastian was gone.

  He tried to focus on details, the equipment, and manpower they’d need if Vaghn left this country. Barasa owned a small jet, so it was a given he’d use it. But they couldn’t fly out after him. Neither Max nor Riley could fly the team’s Dragon Six, a C-30 dinosaur. The transport aircraft was large enough to house a helicopter they could use right now. Sebastian could have landed that on the roof.

  His friend’s image floated in his mind. His throat burned, and he braced his elbows on his knees, then gripped his skull. He’d brought the pack inside without examining it closer, and he shouldered the blame for that, but knew he couldn’t have anticipated any of this. His mind focused on two schools of thought. Where was the explosive that they and the sensors missed it, and what chemical caused that much damage? A genius with a bratty ego, Vaghn’s creations were over the top, but aside from the hand gun, nothing in the pack appeared any different than if it came right out of the box. Was it hidden in there? In the MP3 player? The game, the pen light?

  He fell back on the sofa. Killing Sebastian changed everything. There was no eternity behind bars for Vaghn. Eliminating the treasonous bastard was their only choice.

  He was good with that.

  Safia spent longer than usual in the shower and rubbed a towel over her hair, fluffing it as she walked into the living room. In bike shorts and a loose tee-shirt, she crossed to the sofa and found Riley stretched out, asleep. She turned down the lights, then tossed a coverlet over him. She started to turn away, then sat on the edge of the coffee table near him. Her heart ached for him. She’d lost friends before, but not friends. She didn’t have many. It was tough to do what she did with pals calling to shop or have a drink together. Then there were the targets. She hunted the worst, criminals with no conscience, no moral center. Allowing monsters anywhere near people like Miya was the reason she kept herself guarded. Being around Riley, there wasn’t so much of a barrier. At least not between the two of them. Even with the death of his teammate, he hadn’t lost those easy smiles. There was a strength in him she hadn’t seen in a while. Since Serbia, she thought and without realizing it, she reached, pushing his hair off his forehead. The dim light caught the sparkle of russet in the soft brown curls. His eyes opened slowly, and he held her gaze for a long moment. Then suddenly he reached for her.