Hot Extraction: SEALs, Marines, and Infantry - A Military Romance Boxed Set

by Kathryn Thomas

  Her face hardens. “That’s why the Department of Defense was funding us, isn’t it? So we can make them a weapon?”

  “No,” Ryker says. “I have no specific information on the funding, but the United States doesn’t do direct biological weapons research anymore. At least not to my knowledge. But a lot of good tech comes out of defense research. Think of all the vets who can use what you and your father are working on. A lot of trauma care was developed while helping soldiers on the battlefield. I would say it is unlikely that your funding is so you can develop biological weapons.”

  Ronnie looks at Ryker. What he says is true, but she still doesn’t like the idea that war mongers are the ones paying for their research. “Maybe,” she mumbles, not wanting to be drawn into a fight with the man that is going to rescue her father. “I will destroy the virus and the data before I allow that to happen.”

  “As you should,” Ryker says, and then focuses on Colonel Hargraves. “We need to report this. Have all the material in the lab seized and…”

  “What?” Ronnie shouts in outrage. “You can’t seize our research!”

  “It’s just a precaution. Until we get your father back. As you said yourself, if he has access to his materials and the virus, he would be well ahead if he is being forced to recreate or modify the work that has already been done,” Ryker explains as Hargraves picks up the phone.

  “Yes, but…” Ronnie begins to protest.

  “Dr. Baker. You must understand. This is for the safety of your father as well. The slower he has to go, the more likely we are to find him,” Hargraves says as he punches in numbers on the phone.

  “Dad would never work to weaponize the virus! Never!”

  “Dr. Baker…Ronnie… everyone has a breaking point. Everyone. If it really will take years, it will be better for him to cooperate. But every bit we can slow them down is to our advantage,” Ryker says.

  “People are rolling now,” Hargraves says, placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Is there anything in the lab we need to be aware of? Any special handling for the virus?”

  “No. Nothing. The virus is inert. It is in a hibernation state until we encode the genetic pattern. As it is now, it has none of the markers it requires to attack a cell. It’s harmless.”

  Hargraves speaks into the phone again. “Okay. They are about twenty minutes out,” he confirms, hanging up the phone and sliding it across the table to Ronnie. “Call someone and tell them we are coming and what we will be taking. It will go a lot more smoothly for everyone.”

  Ronnie stares at the phone a moment, then picks up the handset. “How do I dial out?”

  “It’s a direct line. Dial it just like you were at home in Berkeley. Just make sure you include the area code,” Hargraves explains.

  Ronnie dials the phone. It rings until a sleepy man’s voice picks up. “H‘lo?”

  “Jeff. This is Ronnie. I need you get down to the lab right now. Some men are coming. Catalog everything they take. Everything.”

  “Wha-?”

  “Jeff! This is important,” Ronnie snaps into the phone. “The government is seizing all our work. I need you get down at the lab right now and make an inventory of everything they take. Hurry!”

  “What do you mean the government…”

  “Jeff, dammit! Just do it! I’ll answer your questions later. Just get down to the lab right now! You have ten minutes!”

  Ronnie slams the phone down. “There! You fucking happy now?” she says, glaring at Hargraves.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Baker,” Hargraves replies.

  “Yeah, I bet you are,” Ronnie mutters bitterly. Ten years of work, gone—just like that.

  “I’m sure the work will be returned to you as soon as possible,” Hargraves says. He sympathizes with Dr. Baker, but until this situation is under control, they need to limit the potential exposure.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “May I join you?” Ryker asks, standing by Ronnie’s table in the embassy mess.

  “Have a seat. I was just leaving,” Ronnie says, rising.

  Ryker quickly sits his tray down. “Dr. Baker. Ronnie. Please wait. I would like to talk to you a moment.”

  Ronnie is in no mood to talk to the one of the men that started the ball rolling in seizing her life’s work. She had gone back to her room after the meeting and raged, then cried, then finally just sat in stunned silence, unable to believe what had happened. “I really don’t have anything to say to you, First Petty Officer Evans,” Ronnie replies. His rank didn’t sound right when she says it, but she no longer cares. She doesn’t care about anything anymore except finding her father and getting the fuck away from this place. She just wants to go back home to Berkeley and try to pick up the shambles of their research and start again.

  “Ronnie, please. Just give me two minutes, okay? Two minutes.”

  Ronnie stares at Ryker. He seems sincere. “Two minutes,” she says, returning to her chair.

  “I’m sorry about your lab. I really am. This was fucked up from the word “go.” The left hand obviously didn’t know what the right hand was doing. You and your father should have been under some form of security umbrella and your lab secured. Then none of this would have happened.”

  “Little late for that now,” Ronnie says quietly.

  “Yes. But you have to understand, as noble as your cause is, what you have is dangerous in the wrong hands. It needs to be secured—and sooner rather than later. I’m sure all your research material will be returned to you in due course. I suspect you will even be allowed to continue your research, but you and your father will be better protected. Along with your lab.”

  Ronnie stares at him. He has a tray full of fruits and vegetables, none of which he has touched. “I’m not sure I even want to continue the research. Dad and I, we just wanted to help people. My grandmother died of lymphatic cancer. To have our work twisted and perverted like this… It just makes me sick.”

  “I understand. But no one says you can’t continue to search for the cure for disease. I assume that once the virus is programmed or whatever, it is useless for a weapon. Is that right?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. It becomes just another virus at that point.”

  “There is a lot of good to be done, doctor. Don’t give up on it yet. Let’s get you and your father reunited. Then I’m sure that…” Ryker beaks off as a man quickly approaches.

  “Petty Officer Evans, Dr. Baker, Colonel Hargraves needs to see you both right away. It’s urgent.”

  Ryker and Ronnie look at one another. “Oh hell,” Ryker says as he rises, his untouched meal forgotten.

  ***

  “Dr. Baker. We may have a problem,” Hargraves says as he closes the door behind them.

  “What kind of problem?” Ronnie asks.

  “How many vials of the inert virus are there?”

  “How should I know? A couple hundred, I suppose. Why?”

  “There appears to be some missing.”

  “Some?” Ronnie asks. “How many is ‘some’?”

  “We don’t know. There was a Dr. Jeffery Fellows that…”

  “Fallows. Jeff Fallows,” Ronnie corrects.

  “... that is raising hell. According to him there should have been 175 vials but we have only 170. Accused the men of stealing them. Anyway, how accurate would you say Dr. Fallows’ count is?”

  Ronnie thinks a minute. “I don’t know. If he’s sure, I would say I would believe him. He and dad worked closely on the virus so he would probably know.”

  “Fuck!” Hargraves growls. “So now they have the man and the virus for him to make something from. We may have the computers, but you can bet your ass they have the data off of them too. This is so fucked up! Goddamn World War Three is going to start right in here in our backyard!”

  “Ronnie,” Ryker says, getting her attention. He doesn’t like the way she looks. She is very pale. “Sit down,” he says directing her to a chair. “How long? If they have everything they need, h
ow long until they can weaponize the virus?”

  Ronnie pulls herself together. “I don’t know. It depends.”

  “Depends on what?” Ryker asks, sitting down across from her.

  “On a lot of things. Do they already have the DNA sequence ready to modify the virus? Do they already have the payload? I would say they will need at least three months, at minimum. This isn’t like building with Legos. Even if they have everything ready, it takes time to grow the virus and it will have to be tested to make sure it works. If they are starting from scratch, a few years. And it still will have to be modified before it can be easily spread. I keep telling you, we didn’t make a weapon!”

  Ryker feels himself relax slightly. “I understand. But we still have to take this very seriously. You said your father can do the work alone?”

  “Yes. Modifying the DNA of the virus and creating the payload is really my area, but yes, he could probably do it. But he wouldn’t! I know he wouldn’t! It would be so easy to make it look perfect and still not work. They would never know until they tested it and it didn’t work.”

  “And modifying the virus to become airborne? Who would do that?”

  “That would be more in Dad’s area. We kind of cross over in our areas, but he really is the virus expert. But to change the virus like that will take years to perfect. It took us ten years, and we were working in a fully equipped lab with a staff.”

  “They can still fuck up a lot of people, even if they don’t modify the virus,” Hargraves says. “Put it in a cup and give away free samples in a mall or something. Disguised it as marketing research or something like that.”

  “I keep telling you, it doesn’t work that way!” Ronnie protests.

  “Okay,” Ryker says. “Let’s assume they leave the virus just as it is. That is still three months, minimum, right? And that is if your dad is motivated to make the virus work, which I assume he won’t be.”

  “He won’t! I know he won’t. So yes, three months minimum, but more likely, it will take years.”

  “That will buy us some more time, but how many times will he get away with that before they kill him?” Ryker asks. “As I told you, everyone has their limit, Ronnie. Everyone. Eventually he won’t have any choice or they will kill him.”

  “He will die first,” Ronnie says firmly.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ryker says.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next morning Ryker ventures out and begins to spread some Lebanese Pounds around, searching for information. The spooks are working on narrowing down possible locations where Dr. Julian Baker might be held, but having some additional boots on the ground doesn’t hurt. He has been concentrating on trying to find out if Julian has crossed the border into Syria, but he gives that up when the latest intel indicates he is still in Beirut. Apparently it is too hard to get the materials they need into Syria because all the equipment is on the embargo list. Not to mention Lebanon has sealed the borders for security because of the conflict in Syria.

  Ryker is on the way back to the embassy when his scrambled receiver squawks in his ear with an address. “Moving,” he acknowledges curtly before punching the address into the Suburban’s satnav system.

  Fifteen minutes later Ryker is walking confidently down the hall of the ninth floor of the King’s Suites. He nods and smiles at a passing couple, just another man on his way to his room. He stops before room 908 and glances up and down the empty hall. He pulls his weapon, then raps smartly on the door. “Room Service!” he says in accented English.

  Nothing happens and he tries the door. Locked, of course. Ryker stows his weapon then glances around again before turning and walking away.

  “Excuse me. I seem to have locked my key in my room. Room 908,” Ryker says, stepping up to the front desk.

  “We can help you with that sir,” the pretty young woman says. “Do you have some ID?”

  “No, I’m sorry. My wallet is there too. But you will see that I’m registered as a guest. I’m Julian Baker. Dr. Julian Baker.”

  The young woman types on a computer a moment. “Yes, Dr. Baker. I see that you are listed as a guest. But without some form of ID…”

  “What if someone comes up to the room with me? I will get my wallet and show them my ID there. How about you?” Ryker says with his winningest smile. “Can you escort me to my room?”

  The woman blushes and titters. “I’m on duty, sir. Perhaps some other time.” She pauses, clearly torn, caught between wanting to help him and procedures. “Just a moment,” she finally relents before picking up the phone.

  “Fadi will escort you to your room,” she says before handing the swipe card to the young man that stops at the desk. “Please escort Dr. Baker to room 908.”

  “This way sir,” Fadi says, taking the card and striding away.

  Ryker follows the man down the hall to the room. He’s not sure how he is going to explain why he can’t produce his wallet, or the opening of door if the intel is wrong and Dr. Baker isn’t inside. Or worse, if the kid gets shot up by the goons inside. The guy can’t be more than seventeen or eighteen years old. Hopefully the kid’s hotel jacket will give him enough time to neutralize any threat before either one of them gets shot. As Fadi swipes the key and pushes the door open, Ryker hangs back, hand on the butt on his gun still tucked into the small of his back out of sight.

  Fadi walks inside as if everything appears normal. Ryker steps around the corner of the door. The room appears to be empty. As much as he would like to pull his weapon, he leaves it in the holster. “Thank you Fadi,” Ryker says, slipping him a 100,000 pound note. “You’re a life saver.”

  “Thank you sir!” Fadi gushes, but he doesn’t move to leave.

  “Now, where did I put my wallet?” Ryker asks, buying time as he walks to the bedroom. There is something about the suite that doesn’t feel right. Like it was recently occupied but isn’t any longer. As he enters the bedroom, he notices a watch on the nightstand. He quickly removes his own watch and drops it to the floor, kicking it under the bed. “I swear. I must be losing my mind. I found my watch,” Ryker says, striding out of the room while putting on the timepiece, “but I don’t know what I have done with my wallet or key.”

  “Would you like me to help you search?” Fadi asks, clearly wanting to get on the good side of this heavy-tipping American.

  “No. That’s alright,” Ryker says, walking into the kitchen area and looking the room over. “I’m sure it will turn up.” He walks out of the kitchen and holds his hand out for the key. Fadi hesitates, then hands it over. “I’m going to go down to the pool. Maybe I left it down there,” Ryker says, walking out ahead of Fadi.

  Ninety minutes later Ryker and Ronnie are walking down the hall to room 908. He had returned to the embassy and shown Ronnie the watch. She had grown excited as she recognized it as her father’s, or one like his at the very least. Now that he has a key, Ryker has returned to the room for a more thorough search and has brought Ronnie in case they find anything else.

  Ryker steps up to the door, checks to make sure the hall is clear, then pulls his weapon and swipes the card, quickly opening the door and stepping inside. The room appears to be just as deserted as the last time he was here. “Wait here.”

  Ryker quickly checks all the rooms, then holsters his weapon. “Help me search,” he says, returning to the main room.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “I don’t know. Anything that looks out of place.”

  While Ronnie begins to open drawers in the desk, Ryker returns the bedroom, retrieves his watch from under the bed, and then begins to methodically search the room. He turns up nothing.

  “Ryker, take a look at this,” Ronnie says, handing him a note pad. She had shaded the pad with the side of pencil and he could make out writing in the indentions from someone pressing hard while writing.

  “I can’t tell what I’m looking at.”

  “It’s a few formulas, but see this? This is a DNA chain
sequence. I doubt if it means anything, but that is clearly what it is. And look here, buried in the DNA chain, the letters JB. There are no letters JB in a DNA chain, only A, T, G and Cs.”

  “Julian Baker. If the watch wasn’t enough, this shows your dad was clearly here.” Ryker pulls at his lower lip a moment, then strides to the telephone. “Yes. This is Dr. Baker, room 908,” he says after dialing the front desk. “Any messages?”

  “No sir.”

  “Hmm… I have been expecting a call. Any calls for me in the last, say, three hours?”

  Ryker hears some typing. “The last call to your room was at 4:37 today. The call went through.”