The Betrayed Series: Ultimate Omnibus Collection

by Carolyn McCray

  Tok had considered this proposition hours ago and dismissed it as untenable, but Petir was at his most effective when he knew Tok’s heart.

  “Now that we have shown our hand, they will take precautions in their route. We will reveal more of ourselves in trying to follow them than we shall in discovering our good friend’s location.”

  “Might one ask then, why did we attack in the first place?”

  A wise question. One that Tok wished he had asked himself back in the jungle, but with Lochum’s name burning into his mind, impatience had gotten the best of him. He had set the ambush in motion before deliberating upon his choices, seeing four or five moves out, before deciding upon on any one selection. But this was Lochum, and the flint was struck.

  Monroe had suddenly been demoted from the queen to a pawn. Tok had sought to eliminate all other loose ends so that his mind could hone in upon the only target that mattered. Despite their bond, he did not share such musings with his mentor. For as loyal as Petir was, the older man held an even higher allegiance to the Knot. It would be not only his mentor’s responsibility, but his duty, to report Tok’s emotional misstep.

  Patient as always, the older man stood quietly, awaiting his answer.

  “I have narrowed our search for Lochum down to only two locations.”

  His mentor’s face transformed from concerned to quizzical. “How so?”

  Tok indicated the largest plasma screen. It showed a detailed map of Europe. “We know the French would never let such artifacts as important as Roman-era Christian remains to leave their borders.” The rest of Europe faded as France enlarged.

  His mentor added, “The native’s mention of Paris.”

  “Now we need only look at the facilities in the city. Just a few have the scientific equipment that a man such as Lochum would require.” The map melted again to highlight the central city. “We can only assume the American would have insisted upon the tightest security measures. Which refined my search to these four research facilities, including the Panthéon-Sorbonne.”

  Petir studied the map. “But we have men within the Ecole Normale Supérieure, the Paris Descartes University, and Jussieux Campus.”

  “Who would have alerted us if any unusual activity had occurred in their facilities, leaving only these two targets.” After the extraneous locations dissolved away, the remaining facilities glowed brightly. “The Schepartz Laboratory at Yale University and the Panthéon-Sorbonne in Paris.”

  The older man’s wheeze finally subsided. “I shall have the team in Belgium execute your orders.”

  Tok watched as Petir set his words into motion. Now there was nothing that stood in his way. The professor, and all that he knew, would be his. Then Lochum would die.

  The Knot’s secret would again be truly secret.

  * * *

  Rebecca tasted iron as her lip-biting drew blood. Her nerves were shot as the glowing orange assailants boldly approached the hangar.

  “They’re coming,” Rebecca said. “Like right now.”

  The sergeant sounded decidedly unconcerned. “I gathered that much from your pitch.”

  She could imagine the scowl on Brandt’s face. But who could blame her for a little squeak? They were practically sitting out in the open. Their only cover was three oil barrels pulled into the center of the hangar, barely enough to hide both of them, let alone all five.

  So Svengurd and Lopez were over at the derelict aircraft, while Davidson was in the northwestern corner doing God knew what. There didn’t seem to be any specific rhyme or reason to the sergeant’s plan.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t find better cover?”

  “You’re tracking them through thermal imaging, correct?”

  “That was kind of the point.”

  Brandt looked back over his shoulder. “And how do you think the men armed with RPGs are locating us?”

  Luckily, the sergeant went back to his task, so he didn’t see her blush. Of course their assailants had the same tracking equipment. And they probably didn’t even have to paper clip their phone’s antenna to keep the data flowing.

  Watching the enemy encircle the tiny hangar, Rebecca realized the odds were nine to five. Really, nine to four since she had proved herself useless with a gun. And if you counted Davidson’s injuries, it became nine to three-and-a-half. Not good odds.

  Hands shaking, Rebecca had to stop typing. She flexed her fingers. This was ridiculous. Hadn’t she just come from three months in the Amazon? Hadn’t she just survived a snake’s clutch?

  But these situations were night and day. Nature might be cruel but evenhanded. There was no malice when a jaguar attacked. The anaconda had just wanted a meal. She had stayed alive in the jungle by simply avoiding confrontation. Stay out of a piranha’s way, and it stayed out of yours.

  This situation was so very different. The men approaching had one intent and only one intent. To kill them. Not because of a social misunderstanding or territorial dispute. They had been hired to do a job, and they wouldn’t stop until they had fulfilled their objective.

  Maybe Brandt had realized she’d stopped typing or had just glanced over his shoulder, but when she looked up, he locked her gaze. “We’re going to be fine,” the sergeant said, and she might have believed him, if the enemy wasn’t scant yards away.

  Then a dot flickered and disappeared. But it wasn’t one of the approaching enemy. It was a dot inside the building. And it wasn’t just any dot, but the dot in the northwestern corner. She tapped the screen, checking her jury-rigged satellite phone, but all seemed to be working properly.

  “Davidson just disappeared.”

  The sergeant handed her a set of earplugs. “Put these in, and—”

  * * *

  The RPG blew the hangar door off its hinges as Brandt pulled his goggles down. “Get your—”

  He pulled Monroe to his chest, shielding her eyes as Flashbang grenades exploded all around. His tinted goggles cut the explosives’ intense glare. For him, it was more of a decorative fireworks display, but with her eyes unshielded, Monroe could suffer temporary blindness.

  “Stay down,” he urged, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him. But even with her earplugs, she trembled in his arms with each explosion. “It’ll be over in a minute,” he soothed.

  Through the grenade’s smoke, two figures emerged, laying down cover fire. The sergeant didn’t even bother to raise his gun. With his team this outnumbered, they could never win a firefight. Instead, Brandt yanked a pulley from its mooring. Wearing earplugs, their assailants couldn’t hear the rattle of the metal as chunks of the second-floor wreckage fell from high above. Crushed under the girders’ weight, the men only had time enough to let out startled cries before even they were stifled.

  Turning his attention to the other side of the hangar, Brandt watched as the three men who had breached from the south abandoned their cautious approach and charged forward, determined not to be caught in the same trap as their companions.

  Obviously these men were well versed in American tactics. From their assault formation, to the Flashbangs they used, these professionals were running an offensive right out of a West Point playbook.

  Luckily Brandt wasn’t even close to following rules. While the three men were distracted searching above them for more girders, it was his soldiers they should have been worried about. Lopez gunned the decrepit plane’s engine while Svengurd shoved the spinning propellers to the left, mowing down the assailants. Not one of them got off a shot before body parts splattered across the hangar.

  Not bad. Within ten seconds they had evened the odds.

  Now it was time to fight.

  * * *

  Rebecca held Brandt’s hand as tightly as the anaconda had squeezed her. Crouched, the sergeant guided them through the hangar, but she didn’t know where. Still seeing bright shining stars before her eyes, she had to trust in Brandt. Where he led, she followed.

  The faint echo of gunfire made it through the earplugs. It sounded a
lmost surreal, as if it was happening in another hangar. Another world.

  As the sergeant pulled to a halt, Rebecca recognized where they were. Back to the tangle of second-floor wreckage. Brandt spoke, but she couldn’t hear him. He pulled out her earplugs.

  “Dig in here,” Brandt whispered as he turned to leave.

  “Here?” she hissed.

  The sergeant checked around him before answering. “They won’t hit us with an RPG with their men inside. Now go.”

  Rebecca wanted to argue, mainly just to keep Brandt’s gun nearby, but the scrap of metal captured the sergeant’s attention, and he slipped off before she could protest. Tucking her laptop under her arm, gunfire sounded all around, driving Rebecca deeper into the tangle of steel.

  Before, she’d wanted better cover, but now that she had her wish, Rebecca wanted nothing more than to know what was going on. She might have to stay hidden, but that didn’t mean she had to stay ignorant.

  She opened her laptop to find the screen blank. Rebecca yanked a rubber band from her braid and tied it around her phone. The screen sparked to life again. The two men Brandt had killed were on the floor, their body heat rapidly dissipating in the northeast corner, but all around the plane were warm spots. Bodies. Or more likely, parts of bodies.

  Rebecca was glad Brandt hadn’t shared that part of his plan.

  Inside the hangar, there were seven figures. As hard as she stared at the dots, the doctor couldn’t tell friend from foe. The only one still unaccounted for was Davidson. Rebecca hugged herself as gunfire rattled off the hangar’s metal walls. The fight had turned from a cat-and-mouse game into full-out Rambo action. Brandt’s actions had narrowed the margin considerably, but they were still outnumbered.

  Movement on the screen caught her eye. Someone approached. Breath caught in her throat. The dot moved too slowly, too apprehensively, to be one of her team. They knew where she was. Besides, the bulk of the fight had flowed to the other side of the hangar.

  Cautiously, Rebecca tried to creep further under the debris, but a slab of roof blocked her path. She was at a dead end in this metal labyrinth, but the dot continued its unerring path toward her.

  Crap, did they have handheld scanners? Could he sense her heat? Hone in on her location? The only exit was past the gunman. Should she cry out to attract Brandt’s attention? But she remembered Davidson’s actions earlier. Never give away your position. So there she sat, staring at the dim screen, watching her attacker come, step-by-step, closer to discovering her.

  * * *

  A bullet ripped through Brandt’s sleeve, drawing a line of fire across his bicep. Returning fire, he fell behind the oil barrels and rolled. The fucker had snuck up behind him. Glancing to the wound, Brandt reloaded as gunfire peppered the canisters. Several rounds made it through, leaking oil onto the floor. This cover was never meant to stand up to heavy fire.

  After the first five men were taken out, Brandt had run out of tricks. His team was just going to have grunt out this fight.

  Off to the left, Lopez fended off two men. Brandt didn’t have to see him to know who was shooting. The Latino could fire off more rounds per second than the gun manufacturer would believe possible. On the other hand, Svengurd’s clicked off very controlled bursts. Brandt and Corporal Precision were gunning for the same creep.

  In the heat of battle, he had lost track of the fourth gunman. Which could prove to be deadly.

  Brandt had heard nothing from Davidson, but he refused to believe the kid had gone down. The private was just doing his job. Practicing patience. Waiting for his shot. Waiting for the right moment to reveal his position. Hopefully, Davidson wouldn’t wait much longer.

  But what about Monroe? Not a peep from the doctor. Had she stayed put? Had he even made the right decision to park her in the wreckage? At the time, it had felt like the only logical solution. He could fight so much more effectively without having to worry about protecting her, but now…

  She was out there alone. Weaponless. Scared.

  Pushing back the image of her smoke-smudged face, Brandt fired over the barrels, keeping his assailant on his toes. Worrying wasn’t his style, and patience certainly wasn’t his virtue. Maintaining the status quo didn’t appeal to him either. Given enough time, the enemy would leverage their superior equipment into a victory, knocking his team off one by one.

  Clearly the bastards had advanced mobile detection equipment, while they, well, they were blind.

  He was going to have to change that.

  * * *

  Rebecca’s stare bordered on morbid fascination as the dot closed in. The doctor knew it was silly to hold her breath, but she just couldn’t exhale. Then the man stopped. Rebecca blinked and blinked again, but he held his ground. Why had he halted? She checked the other dots. They were still over on the other side of the hangar.

  Wiping the dust that rained down from the wreckage off the screen, Rebecca wanted to make sure there wasn’t a glitch. But sure enough, the dot stayed put. Had he lost his infrared feed? Why else would he stop before taking out a sitting duck like her?

  Swiping away paint chips, Rebecca stifled a sneeze. Now would not be the time for a hay fever attack. Then a pebble hit her head. What the hell? With great effort, she took her eyes off the screen and glanced upward, but she found only the metal maze above her head. It both sheltered and trapped her.

  Glancing back at the screen, she found the dot had moved a single step forward and then stopped. Could he be getting instructions from his superiors? She had so little experience with such things.

  Rebecca stifled a squeak as something quite a bit larger than a pebble hit her head. This time she stared above her. Was the ceiling collapsing? It would be about the right time for something else disastrous to happen.

  Squinting, she could make out an object far above her, nestled in the rafters. She looked back at the screen. Only the goon outside to worry about. And he hadn’t moved a single inch. Getting braver, Rebecca stared above her. Was there movement?

  Then the most wonderful thing happened. A smile shone from the darkness. Now that she had a landmark, Rebecca could make out a man, well camouflaged, hiding high up in the rafters.

  Rank: Private. Name: Davidson.

  Rebecca had no idea how he had hidden himself from the infrared, but nevertheless a guardian angel watched over her through the lattice-like metal. She started to reposition herself, but the private ever so slightly shook his head.

  Stay put. She got it.

  Looking down at the screen, she realized her stalker had also gotten braver and was about to enter the wreckage. The doctor looked up in panic. Did Davidson have a clear shot?

  In answer to her unspoken question, she heard a sound not even as loud as a soda pop can opening, and then the dot slumped backward.

  The kid was that good.

  She looked up as Davidson repositioned himself to fire into the southern portion of the hangar, but one of the enemy must have seen the private’s muzzle flash, because the gunfire shifted toward the rafters.

  Davidson could maneuver only so much on the narrow girders. He didn’t cry out when he took a round to the stomach, but she did. Even hit, the private grabbed hold of a pulley chain and might have swung to safety if his injured shoulder hadn’t given out.

  “No!” she screamed as Davidson tumbled through the open air until he caught the chain with his bad arm.

  Rebecca slung her laptop over her shoulder as the private dangled precariously from the rafters. The only thing preventing a deadly plunge was his dislocated arm. Brandt and his men must have realized the danger as the gunfire quadrupled. They might be able to keep the shooters from picking Davidson off, but the private couldn’t hold on much longer.

  Without hesitation, Rebecca began climbing the metal lattice like a huge jungle gym. Sure she could pretend she was suddenly brave and all about the heroics, but in truth she simply didn’t want to live with the guilt if Davidson fell. She had enough of that emotion to last a lifetime
.

  What if she had dived into the river after Yerato? What if she had followed the river another quarter mile? Could she have saved him? She would never know. Rebecca wanted no such questions about Davidson.

  Free of the tangled metal, she stood atop the wreckage. “Hang on.”

  The only response was a thin, pained whisper, “Don’t.”

  Ignoring the private, Rebecca grabbed hold of the chain. She noticed that her hands were no longer shaking. She might not be able to hold her own with guns, but this, this she could do. As it turned out, climbing the metal was even easier than the jungle vines. No thorns.

  Hand over hand, she made her way up the chain, every second expecting Davidson to plummet past her, but somehow the kid hung on. However, unable to brace against his bad shoulder, the private flailed, trying to catch hold of the chain with his good hand, which only made it harder for her to climb.

  “Hold still,” she hissed, but didn’t know if he could hear her over the barrage of gunfire. Brandt was definitely holding down his end of the job, keeping the enemy occupied, as Rebecca reached Davidson’s feet. Now she could see his pained features.

  “Brace off my shoulders,” Rebecca said, as a bullet flew past her ear. They were dangling midair above a full-scale firefight, but the soldier still thrashed. “Damn it, boots on my shoulders!”

  This time the private obeyed, and after a toe to her jaw, Davidson balanced long enough on her shoulders to grab the chain. Breaths of relief escaped both their lips. “I’m climbing over you, but don’t get any ideas.”

  The military tone returned. “I can get up on my own.”

  As the air took on the smell of gunpowder, Rebecca didn’t have time to argue. She simply grabbed the chain between his legs. Instinctively, Davidson tried to stabilize himself, but the pain caused his arm to drop limply. He wasn’t going anywhere on his own. Rebecca pulled up face to face with him as the chain spun them gently.

  “What did I say about getting ideas?” She put a hand above his head.

  Davidson wouldn’t look at her, let alone answer. Rebecca made sure to brace against his good shoulder as she climbed over. After that, it was a quick ascent to the catwalk. Dark and gloomy, the bright muzzle flashes of the gunfire far down below almost looked pretty.