by Jordan Dane
The tall one with the sandy blond hair had to be Micah Wolfe. Under a windbreaker, he wore an Angel House T-shirt, a homeless shelter located in Austin, Texas where he volunteered. Mercer had read his dossier. Wolfe had also served with Kyle Chancellor’s unit in Afghanistan as an intelligence officer.
The man carrying a brown paper sack and Starbucks coffee had to be Jet Ivan Foster, a muscular fireplug of a man—an MMA fighter and a Krav Maga black belt. Most days he lived on his boat as a diver in search of sunken treasure, but he stood ready to serve alongside his fellow Equalizers when called. A part of Mercer envied Foster.
Neither man brandished their weapons on a public residential street—not wanting to call attention to their activity—but Mercer knew they were carrying.
He opened the door before they knocked.
“I’m Mercer Broderick. Glad you could join the party.”
“Foster, here, never likes to come empty-handed.” Micah Wolfe flashed a smile and stepped through the door with his partner close behind. “I’m Wolfe. I hear your pencil pusher travels with a dangerous crowd, people who run with scissors.”
“He’s the money man for the Jaguar and the Galvez cartel—Elliot Ziffle.”
“Those are nasty excuses for human beings. We’ve run into the Jaguar before on a rescue mission.” Jet Foster set down the coffee and a bag of something that smelled like fresh baked goods. “The bastard abducted Sofia Garza, mother to Noah McCoy. We brought the lady home, safe and sound.”
“I’ve heard of the McCoys. They have the Tebow Ranch near Kerrville. Good people to have on your side.” Mercer put his Glock back into his holster. “We’re keeping Ziffle bottled up until we get confirmation of his list of cartel assets. Detective Santiago Gonzales is working an immunity deal with the AG.”
Dressed in his rumpled clothes from yesterday, Elliot followed Keiko from the bedroom. He smiled when he saw the Starbucks and grabbed a hot brew, but she put a hand to his chest to stop him.
“Not on your life, Mr. Touchy Gut. Like you, caffeine is an irritant. I’m doing you a favor.” She pulled the coffee from his clutches. “You two should thank me, but if he detonates while riding the commode on your watch, that’s on you.”
Mercer crossed his arms and sighed.
“This is my partner, Keiko. Try to stay on her good side.”
“I didn’t know I had one.” She didn’t smile.
“No offense, but I believe you.” Micah Wolfe raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hear your plan, Mercer. We’re burning daylight.”
Mercer laid out his strategy to protect Elliot Ziffle. The guy had been a pawn in a dangerous man’s game. It was time for the Jaguar to wear a bulls-eye on his chest and Mercer wanted to be the one who put it there.
***
Downtown El Paso
After Mercer drove Keiko to the secured parking garage where she’d left her Harley, he had a strong urge for huevos rancheros slathered in ranchero sauce, homemade flour tortillas, and good coffee. Keiko didn’t normally indulge in Mexican food, but as they stood on the sidewalk outside the city garage, next to his vehicle, he invited her to join him.
“You want to grab a bite to eat? There’s nothing like a Tex-Mex breakfast,” he said. “I’m buying.”
“I appreciate your kind offer to sabotage my metabolism, but I would prefer a long soak. You have a standing invitation to join me.” She smiled. “My fingers are well-skilled in the art of Japanese Shiatsu.”
Mercer stared into Keiko’s ice blue eyes, a gift from her Russian father, and couldn’t stop the heat from rushing to his face.
“I bet they are.” He fixed his eyes on her and didn’t back down. “Don’t you have a thing going with Stetson? What would he think?”
Mercer didn’t intend to sound judgmental, but Keiko had been aggressive with him from the start. He’d never given her any indication he had an interest. The fact that he’d been devastated over the death of his wife and child didn’t deter her. She saw her part as giving him comfort with the release only she could provide.
When she couldn’t have him, Keiko targeted Stetson Debenham, and his number two man rose to the occasion. Mercer had no problem with the physical release of sex. His team worked long and dangerous hours and relied on each other for support. Sex would be another way to work out, but Mercer didn’t want friction within the ranks of his team. Up to now it hadn’t been an issue, but Keiko could be downright combustible.
“Stetson means nothing to me. Surely you know the reason I picked him. He reminds me of you. His body is very…similar in proportion.” She inched closer to him and ran her fingers down his chest. “When he is inside me, I imagine it is you.”
Mercer had always known Keiko Kayakova didn’t feel things like other human beings. In truth, he had good reason to trust her with his life. She’d proven herself time and time again, but there were times—like now—where she scared the hell out of him.
“What you have with Stetson is your business…and his. I won’t interfere, but don’t let it get in the way of my team.”
He didn’t wait for her to respond. Mercer climbed into his vehicle and pulled from the curb, not looking back.
***
In the Laramie Mountains
12:00 p.m.
Ciara wandered to Zion’s massive designer kitchen after her workout in the gym and a shower. She wore a fresh pair of sweats and a hoodie, with her dark hair still damp. When she saw Stetson making a salad, her stomach growled.
“When do you think they’ll be coming up for air?” she asked.
“I have no idea. Nilah had me bring her a large bag of Skittles. It’s pretty serious,” Stetson said. “I brought them Red Bull chasers earlier. According to Nilah, that means they have all the major food groups.”
Ciara grabbed a carrot stick and munched.
“Did it look as if they were making headway?”
“That’s just it. How can anyone know?” he said. “Geek is a language I don’t speak, darlin.’ If I did, I’d know what Monoalphabetic Substation or Caesar Shift or Vigenère ciphers were, and maybe I’d get an erection when I heard Public-Key Cryptography.”
“So no boner?” Ciara sneaked a peek below his belt buckle. “Not even a little wood?”
“Not a twitch.” When he caught her sly glance, he said, “Hey, just so you know, there is nothing wrong with my mechanics. Everything is fine south of the border. My compass knows how to find due north.”
“Uh, guess that means we’re on our own for lunch.”
“Nice segue,” Stetson said. “Take Karl for a walk so Mercer’s beast can squeeze Mother Nature loose. When you come back, the salad will be ready. Scoot.”
“No one gets a free ride at Che Mercer.” Ciara grinned.
“You know it.”
***
Zion War Room Bunker
Wyoming
12:10 p.m.
The underground bunker had an impressive bank of high-tech computers in a dimly lit room. The lights were kept low to prevent eyestrain over long periods of use and to highlight the vivid displays on the monitors. Nilah sat in a pod of her design. She swiveled in an ergonomic chair at the center of six monitors and special keyboards and remotes.
She shared her unique accommodations with Saxon, something she had never done. No one had ever joined her in the inner sanctum of her ‘pod.’ She’d designed everything for her size. Saxon looked squeezed into a kindergarten-sized desk. She loved the idea of keeping him off balance, but he had a secret weapon against her.
The room had sound baffles, noise dampening structures to allow a pin drop to be heard from anywhere in the room. Whenever Saxon spoke, his voice sounded as if he’d whispered in both of her ears—a totally unfair advantage.
He’d been quick to realize the acoustics of his surroundings and refrained from raising his voice. She appreciated his consideration, but that didn’t stop the chills from racing down her spine whenever he rolled his chair closer to her, made eye contact, and said
anything.
“Let me get this straight.” Saxon raked a hand through his perfect hair. “Our insider, Elliot Ziffle, the guy who gave us the NovaREAL site and the cipher, says he uses a keyword to unlock his ability to communicate, similar to a Vigenère cipher, but that wasn’t enough for you. You hacked into the forum before I got here.”
“Yeah, I got antsy and wanted to test the waters. While I was in there, I created a backdoor so we can come and go without being detected.”
“Sweet. Does that mean we don’t have to login as Ziffle?”
Saxon leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, revealing the broad muscular chest under his jersey. Nilah stopped to enjoy an eyeful until he caught her staring. The rush of blood made her cheeks warm.
“No, we have to look legit to Rangel. It’s best that we follow protocol as if we were Ziffle communicating as usual.”
She kept her eyes on the screen and her fingers moving across the keyboard, hoping to hide her awkwardness around Saxon.
“I’m sending you the parameters for my secret portal into NovaREAL. You can access the forum and gather online intel. I’ll do the same and we can compare notes after.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m on it.” Saxon didn’t waste any time. He jumped on the nearest keyboard and got to work.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled.
“Have the last Red Bull,” she said. “You look like you need the stamina.”
After her taunt, Saxon did not disappoint. He rose to the tease like a catfish to stick bait.
“Stamina? I don’t need artificial stimulants to fuel this body, Rolstad. Pass the Skittles.”
Nilah tossed him the bag of tart candy before she let the work swallow her. In the back of her mind, she sensed Saxon beside her, but she did her best to block him out by focusing on her backdoor access to NovaREAL.
“Mercer wants us to make contact with the cartel’s number two man, Victor Rangel. I’m checking his activity from yesterday now. It looks like he uses multiple avatars and has locations all over the world so he’s not easy to track. Smart.”
“But it’s Rangel, the same guy. When we’re ready to go in, if we can convince him we’re Ziffle and get our meeting, he’ll come.”
“Yeah, if we don’t spook him,” she said. “When you get a chance, I’d like you to track Ziffle’s prior communications, to decode how the cipher works. The extra scrutiny couldn’t hurt.”
“I’m feeling a second wind coming on.” Saxon sneaked the last Red Bull and Nilah noticed.
Before she knew it, time slipped away, but when Nilah discovered the image Elliot Ziffle used online, her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped.
“You have to see this.” She grinned at Saxon. “I found his avatar.”
Chapter 6
Zion War Room Bunker
Wyoming
1:00 p.m.
Nilah had seen the man’s dossier. Mild-mannered Elliot Ziffle in real life looked like a mortician, but online he had an alter ego and it lived in the avatar he created. In the man’s mind, the Galvez cartel would think twice before messing with a guy who reinvented the character of Walter White from Breaking Bad and doubled down on crazy by adding the grotesque makeup of Heath Ledger’s Joker from Batman.
Apparently in Ziffle world, Spandex was not optional.
“Holy guacamole! That’s his avatar?” Saxon laughed. “That’s one bad ass Heisenberg, but what man wears purple spandex, on purpose?”
“The color is the only thing that bothers you?” She shook her head. “Maybe purple is his tribute to Prince. Whatever. The avatar is his. We have to roll with it.”
“I realize no one online will know it’s us dressed in purple tights,” he said. “But aren’t you afraid of losing cool creds just being in his digital skin?”
She chuckled.
“If you’ve had enough time online in NovaREAL, let’s compare notes on how the cipher works and brainstorm a strategy for going in. This is where the heavy lifting starts.”
Saxon tossed a Skittle into the air and even in the dim light he caught it in his mouth.
“Gladly.”
***
EL Paso, Texas
Mercer didn’t have much downtime, but as he drove across El Paso—heading for police headquarters for a conference call with Nilah—he thought of Zoey. When she’d called him, he heard the stress in her voice and her heartache over Kaity. He wanted to hold Zoey in his arms and comfort her. Caregivers needed consoling too, so when he stopped at a traffic light, he punched a speed dial on his cell.
He placed a call to the dog trainer who helped match him with Karl.
Lowell Mathis had grown his prestigious business and made his service dogs a hot commodity across the country. Lowell lived in San Antonio and also worked with area dog-handling facilities, such as the impressive Department of Defense military working-dog program at Lackland Air Force Base, with its 62 training sectors, nearly 700 kennels, and over 3,350 acres. The program trained dogs and handlers for all branches of military services, as well as civilian law enforcement.
After Mercer explained what he wanted—a therapy dog for Kaity—Lowell Mathis rained on his parade.
“Most of my animals are promised to folks. I have PTSD vet programs and police departments needing service dogs. You do know these animals can cost up to twenty thousand dollars.”
Mercer took a deep breath and kept his voice calm. He needed this man’s cooperation, not to start an argument that wouldn’t help Kaity. He had to think of her.
“The money doesn’t matter. I know what it took to train my dog, Karl, and the hours my four-legged partner put in to train me. I’ll take care of the cost.”
“I knew it. This is about a girl, isn’t it?”
Mercer heard the smile in the man’s voice. Lowell had surprised him with the assumption about a woman being behind his request, but in a way, the man had hit the bulls-eye. He’d grown protective of Kaity after he had seen what she’d survived, but when Lowell chided him about a special woman, he thought of Zoey.
“You nailed it, Lowell, but it’s not exactly what you think. I need a therapy dog for a young woman whose life has been shattered by some very bad men. She’s torn apart by nightmares and could use a good therapy companion. Can you help me with that?”
The man cleared his voice and sighed.
“Yeah, I can do that,” he said. “Sometimes I forget what the core of this program is all about. I get wrapped up in the business side and furnishing well-trained service dogs to law enforcement or soldiers returning home who need help, but when I hear about your young lady, this old bird gets a little misty. No lie. The truth is that I’m blessed to work with these dogs and find them homes where they’re needed, no matter where that is.”
“I hear that. If you could see this girl, she’s gone through so much and has a long road ahead of her. If there’s anything you can do to help her, I’d be grateful.”
“As you know, the dog isn’t the only one to need training,” Lowell said. “She’s got work to do, you know.”
“She lives in Denver. You know a good dog handling program there?”
After Lowell agreed to text him a link and address for a suitable dog handlers program, he made a promise to Mercer.
“Let me check my inventory and my training schedules. I’ll get back to you.” Before he got off the line, the man said, with a smile in his voice, “You’re a good man, Mercer. I don’t care what anybody else says.”
“Uh, thanks?” He grinned and ended the call.
Most days, Mercer didn’t feel like a good man. Guilt and regret colored his life, but Zoey made him want to try to be a better human being. If he turned out to be half the man Karl thought he was, Mercer didn’t feel like a total waste of skin.
***
2:10 p.m.
Nilah had arranged a video conferencing call from her pod in the bunker. She wanted the reassurance of face time with Mercer. She and Saxon had gained access
to NovaREAL, set up a backdoor portal that couldn’t be detected, deciphered how to use the keyword, and translated Ziffle’s cipher, enough to know what to do once they logged into the system as Elliot, for real.
Mercer had asked for Karl to attend the video call. On long missions, he liked seeing his partner. The large dog sat next to Nilah as she stroked his scruff.
All that remained was for Nilah to find the guts to actually make the call to her boss.
“You’re stalling. Connect the call to Mercer. Let’s rock and roll.” Saxon twirled in his swivel chair, shifting his head to keep his eyes on her.
She shrugged and fought to find the words to explain.
“Mercer and my team take risks every day, but not me. What I do is nothing compared to them. I have this cocoon of anonymity I hide behind. My world is as safe as I make it, but what we’re about to do will put people in motion in the real world. My team could get hurt because of something I did.”
“We did. Let’s get that straight. You’re not alone in this, Nilah.”
He faced her and pulled her chair toward him. He put both his hands on her armrests and fixed his mesmerizing eyes on her.
“You and I made a pretty good team today, and I don’t say that to everybody. I can see why Mercer has you as his secret weapon. Don’t downplay your part, just because you’re not a magnet for bullets. What we’re about to do is knock on the door of a very bad man and set him up for the good guys. That’s not nothing.”
She winced.
“You had me until the double negative.”
“Not my finest hour.”
When he looked over at Karl, the dog growled under its breath and Saxon did a double take.
Nilah nibbled on the inside of her lips—ignoring Karl—and finally nodded.