Hit Hard

by Amy J. Fetzer

  Her voice broke with the last words, and she left the room in a fury.

  Sam dropped to the arm of the sofa and gripped the back of his neck. “Man, I’ve really done a job on her life.” Ryzikov’s men, the weapons dealer, the woman, they’d still come after her, each for their own reasons.

  “We have to get her out of the country,” Max said, and Sebastian agreed.

  They couldn’t protect her 24/7 and finish this mission. “Is that enough?”

  “One more problem,” Logan said. “Whoever was on the other end of the web camera saw her kill Ryzikov. If it’s the weapons dealer, then he knows he’s lost a buyer.”

  “If he’s as greedy as he’s been, he’ll let one more in,” Max said. “It needs to be us.”

  “Then you’d better break that code, Logan. We don’t have much time.”

  “Now we’re on a timeline, geez.” The AC stirred papers and Max grabbed them, frowning at the food bills from the hangar.

  “Dahl said that Rohki hired him to fly him out of here, in a week.”

  Sebastian mentally counted. “That’s the day after tomorrow.”

  “Keeps getting better, huh?” Sam was already walking toward the hall. He really didn’t want this confrontation, but he couldn’t trust Viva’s safety to anyone.

  Kukule Ganga Dam

  Kalawana, Sri Lanka

  Thomas Rhodes repelled down into the tunnel, Risha a few yards above him. He hit bottom and waited, then they unhooked the cables and side by side, stared at the walls of the reserve pressure tunnels. The concrete was still damp, the pumping ending only an hour ago. Thomas squatted near the cavity, Risha bending to run her hand over the edges.

  “You’re right, this didn’t crack,” she said.

  “No, it’s been obliterated.”

  The wall of the tunnel holding millions of gallons of water had been pulverized. The force of the wash would have taken away debris, yet the hole was too clean to be faulty concrete or a pressure crack. Thomas had donned scuba gear and looked, too impatient for the pumps to finish. But Risha had to see it for herself.

  Her gaze followed the normal flow of water, then back to the concrete.

  “Why only here? If the pressure was that great, which we know it was not, why didn’t it break in other spots, why haven’t we seen any other damage?”

  “It’s as if something drilled this.”

  “Under four fathoms of water? How?” She lifted her gaze to his. Her features pulled tight. “That night the Army was here, Thomas, to capture Tiger rebels. Most of them died. Do you really think this was an accident?”

  Thomas looked back at the hole. “No, I don’t. But if there’s something out there that could cause this, with this precision, how do we fight it?”

  And who do we tell?

  Viva heard the door open but didn’t look up and continued to throw clothes into a duffel. “I heard.” She pointed to the speaker still on the nightstand.

  “Eavesdropping is a nasty vice.”

  “Not if I spied for a living. Hum? That would be a new career choice.” She checked her money and passport, then met his gaze. “You don’t have to explain, Sam, really. I need to be gone. People are using me to hurt you and you can’t do your job with me here.” She was damn tired of the bad guys winning and this was so much bigger than her. “I still want to pound Wan Gai into the ground, it will have to wait.”

  He came to her, forcing her to look at him. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  That soothed her. “But some things never change, I’m trouble, and these awful people, they won’t ignore what’s happened.”

  Sam swallowed her in his arms, knowing he had to do this and hating that he’d forced this choice. He felt a deep slash in his heart when she said, “Can you help me get out of here?”

  Satellite Surveillance Center

  CIA Station

  Bangkok

  Kincade had cooled off and stood in the rear of the comm room, the screens video feed a bit subdued. Agents were on the phone, analysts furiously digging through information while the satellite feed from Langley was still operational.

  “I have I.D.” A female analyst glanced to the left, and motioned him.

  He frowned and moved near, bending.

  “The men the agents were chasing with the Thai police.”

  His lips tightened over that mess.

  “I’ve got some visual, MI6 and our feed on the river. But it doesn’t make sense to me.” She looked at him. “They’re Americans.”

  “And you think every American is the perfect patriot?”

  “No sir, but this man”—she tapped keys and pulled up a photo of two men leaving a run-down shop, and pointed to one—“he’s a patriot.”

  “You know him.”

  She shook her head. “Not personally, but I know one of his teammates, Max Renfield. They’re Dragon One.”

  He frowned. “Never heard of them.”

  “Yes, you have. Russian missiles on Amianan Island? That arms dealer and the Chinese?”

  His features went taut. Price’s career fuckup.

  “They helped stop them.”

  “Find out what they’re doing there.”

  “It could be anything, sir, they’re private hire.”

  “I don’t care, use your friendship with this Renfield, or send people to bring them in for interrogation.”

  “If they don’t want to talk, we won’t get them in. They don’t take a job that isn’t ethical, we can trust them.”

  “Today, we don’t trust anyone.”

  In the early dawn, Viva took the plane ticket and turned to Sam. “It leaves in a few minutes. Last seat. Probably next to the bathroom.”

  Sam only nodded and moved with her to the gate. “Call me when you land.”

  His cell number was tucked in her jeans’ pocket. “I expect you to find me when you’re done with this thing you do.”

  His lips quirked a bit. “You’ve been amazing help.”

  “A storehouse of trivia. Who knew?” Viva didn’t want to leave, not now, but understood she was in terrible danger and it put Sam and the rest of the guys at risk. Sam wanted to take her to England himself on their jet, one she’d yet to have seen, but it was in Sri Lanka, and they didn’t have that much time. She wanted to be with Sam more than she wanted to see the bastards pay, including Wan Gai, but she knew when to leave a party. Her only connection would be when and if Logan had voice imprints for her to identify. She was doubtful that would ever happen.

  Over the loudspeakers, they called for the boarding.

  Sam almost flinched at the sound, having a hard time letting her go and kept telling himself it was for her safety. Her life. She’d been used and manipulated enough, and beyond taking back weapons and chasing diamonds, someone wanted her dead. He feared that putting her on a plane wasn’t enough. “My friends will meet the plane when you land.”

  “My own personal guards?”

  “Sorta. Don’t let the accents sway you, okay?”

  She smiled. “I’m partial to a Texas drawl.” Viva could feel it, the break about to happen, the moment when she knew she had to sever this and lose the chance of ever seeing him again.

  “Sam?”

  He met her gaze. “God, I didn’t think this would be so hard,” he muttered, and his hand slid to her waist. It took only a gentle tug to bring her close.

  “I know.” Her throat strained. “Find me or I’ll hunt you down.”

  He tried to smile. “Count on it.” She had a bio marker in her, just to be sure.

  “Kiss me good-bye, cowboy,” she said, and he bent, and gathered her closer, his mouth touched and rolled. His heartbeat was painful, a longing he’d never thought he could feel shattering inside him, and he crushed her to him.

  “This is far from over, Viva,” Sam said roughly, and she was moved that his voice was strained.

  Pushing out of his arms felt like the tearing of a limb and Viva wiped her lipstick off his mouth, then turned away
. She handed her passport and ticket to the agent, refusing to look back and have her heart broken, yet when she passed through the doors, her willpower failed. She glanced.

  Sam was already gone.

  Zidane stared at the man, barely listening to his rant. It was directed at Noor.

  “If they learn his passwords, they will know everything!”

  “Then I suggest you step up the bidding,” Zidane said, knowing it fell on deaf ears.

  “The field is narrow enough,” Constantine snarled and looked at Noor. She stood still and expressionless. “Was it necessary to leave so much evidence behind?”

  “I got your information,” she said plainly. “And it’s in ashes.” She nodded to the news broadcast playing, the sound turned down. Constantine turned to watch for a moment, then looked back at her and nodded, not at all pleased.

  “You disappoint me, Noor,” Constantine said.

  She dipped her head. “Forgive me.”

  Her tone was not the least contrite. “You had a clear shot at the woman, yet you did not use it. Why?”

  Her gaze flicked to Zidane’s. “She may still be useful.”

  “Doubtful. You are obsessed with teasing the man, end it now.” He looked at Zidane. “Assemble the buyers, you alone.”

  Noor looked insulted and left abruptly.

  Before Zidane reached the door, Constantine called to him. “Watch her. I will not have her rage at the world of men destroy this.”

  They both understood that Noor was on the edge. Zidane was still confused over why she did not kill the woman when she was ordered to do so. She cared less for life than she did her own, and that was the real danger. If she chose to die, she would take them all with her. He left the suite and found Noor leaning against the wall, her arms folded over her trim waist. She met his gaze.

  “You are tender for this one man?” That, he’d never believe.

  “Why are you so concerned about the lives I take, Jai? We both do it for him.”

  She thought using his given name would alter his view of her. “Allowing them to live gave them the advantage with the laptop. You knew this.” Zidane cocked his head. “You admire the woman? Or you toy with her life, waiting for her to change—like you, perhaps?”

  She scoffed, pushing off the wall. “You try to analyze me. Don’t.”

  It scared her, he thought, that he knew her better than she did. The red-haired woman had killed once, but Zidane doubted she’d do it again. Taking a life did not make taking more any easier.

  At the window, Max peered down the street side of the house, glanced at his watch, then turned away.

  “Check Sam’s GPS.” In the belt buckle.

  Logan glanced at the time, then quickly switched to another computer, and started the trace. “He’s on the other side of the city.”

  “He’s not answering his phone, either.” Sebastian closed the cell.

  Max went to the gear stacked in the corner. Logan stood to join him.

  “We can handle it, Logan. We need to crack that computer and get it to the Pentagon. And that’s out of my league.”

  Logan hesitated, then agreed, and turned back to the computers. “Keep in contact.”

  “Roger that, he may need a rescue.” Within minutes Max and Sebastian were suited, supplied, and heading to the SUV.

  “Okay, Max, what are you thinking?” Sebastian asked when they were inside the truck.

  “Sam’s in trouble and I think it’s our guys.”

  “Come again?”

  Max tossed Sebastian the GPS tracking unit. “The GPS says that he’s near Thani Graphics, right where that shot hit.”

  “Then I’m glad I brought the Semtex.”

  Fourteen

  MI6 Satellite Relay Station

  East Asia Theatre

  Lieutenant Stephen Darwood glanced at the clock. He’s late. This was the third time in three months his replacement hadn’t shown up for duty. He reached for the phone to call his girlfriend and cancel their dinner when the door opened.

  “Giving up on me already? It’s only a minute.”

  Andrew moved near and Stephen could smell ale on his breath. “You righteous ass. Drinking?”

  Andrew stilled. “One pint with my cousin, that’s it.”

  Stephen made a sound of disgust, then saved the satellite course photos and closed the program. Andrew could open his own, he thought, though it would take ten minutes and they shouldn’t let it go unguarded.

  He grabbed his jacket, slipping it on as Andrew dropped a paper sack on the desk that smelled like fried Twinkies, and sat.

  He looked up from the screen. “Well, aren’t we pissy today? Closing me out.”

  Andrew rapidly tapped the keys, opening the watch program. It was still booting when Darwood flipped him off, then left the building.

  Through the window, Andrew watched him walk to his car, open the door, and slide behind the wheel, but it wasn’t till he was pulling out that Andrew reached for the bag. He withdrew a cell phone, slipped it out of the plastic baggie, then turned it on. He looked at the screen, then text messaged the numbers into the phone and hit send. He replaced the phone in the greasy bag of fried cakes, and thought, thirty grand richer than this morning.

  Handcuffed and in a chair, Sam glanced around the Thai police station. He was in the private offices of the commander. They’d pulled him from the airport, and none too gently, he thought, stretching his neck and feeling the lump growing on the back of his head. His gun was on the desk between them, along with his comms.

  “You are accused of stealing a Thai artifact.” The commander’s voice was soft with patience.

  Christ, that’s what this was about? “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”

  Commander Isarangura turned from the window and plucked a picture off the desk. “This is from the museum surveillance cameras.”

  Sam was in Wan Gai’s face. He should have shot the fucker for all he put Viva through. “I took a tour.”

  “Wan Gai said you broke in.”

  “I was anxious to see the silver exhibit.”

  Anan smothered a smile. Clever man. “The artifact, where is it?”

  Sam kept quiet.

  “Mr. Wyatt. Yes, I know your name, and your reputation. You do understand the advantage of speaking to the authorities now, before I lodge charges.”

  “Am I speaking to the honorable half or the good old boys who take orders”—he jutted his chin at the pictures—“from anyone?”

  Anan stiffened. Wyatt was correct, the reason he was speaking to him in his private offices and not out with the others; where ears were pricked to the conversation and would travel to the wrong people. “Let me say that I am grateful you have cut an artery of the slave trade.”

  “Now you really have me stumped.” Sam wondered how he knew anything, since Wan Gai kept himself clean and let Choan get his hands dirty for him.

  Anan dropped the shell casing on the table.

  He couldn’t find the ballistics without the gun and that was at the CP.

  “Wan Gai has a great deal of power and he wishes to exert it on me.”

  “Sorry for you.”

  “It will not work, sir, be assured.”

  Sam scoffed. “He’s Thai royalty and that I’m here says he’s exerted it already.”

  “I am obligated to look into all matters.”

  Like one of his men out in the other offices couldn’t do this? Yeah sure, that washes, Sam thought.

  “But the king believes and always has, that our laws rule more than he does.”

  “You’re so sure?”

  He gestured to a photo of the king of Thailand and himself. Golfing. To prove his point, he came to Sam, removing the handcuffs. “Will you tell me why you are here?”

  “Ask your countryman on the UN Security Council.”

  Anan’s features pulled tightly over his smooth-boned face. “Sulak Krahn?”

  Sam nodded, rubbing his wrists.

  “The artifact.
Please,” he said when Wyatt refused to answer. “I must understand the worthy fight.”

  Sam scowled. “Wan Gai didn’t tell you what it was?”

  He shook his head, humiliated he’d been kept in the dark.

  “It’s a bracelet, a hammered cuff. And it’s the reason Voslav is dead. Wan Gai sold a woman for simply viewing it. So watch your back.”

  “You have seen this?”

  Sam took back his weapons, concealing them, stuffed the small comm radio in his pocket, then grabbed a sheet of paper and made a quick sketch. “Rubies and sapphires, heavy gold and bronze. It had royal Thai markings as well as Cambodian or Laotian.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In safe hands.” The thought of Viva made his heart ache.

  “It should be returned.”

  “It will be, I promise. But only when I’m certain Wan Gai will not hurt any more people for it.”

  Isarangura looked down at the paper. “You are certain the markings were Cambodian?”

  Sam didn’t understand the concern over the carvings, nor did he care. “I’m not an expert, but the woman was on the dig where they found it. Udon Thani Caves. And Wan Gai knew there was something valuable enough about it to sell a human being to keep it quiet.”

  A hard pound rattled the door, a Thai cop calling out excitedly.

  Isarangura wasted no time. “This way, please.” The commander stood near the water closet, and opened the door at its left. “My private entrance, hurry. It will take you to the street.”

  Crafty bastard. Sam didn’t know why he thanked him, but he did. “How are you going to explain this?”

  “No one questions me, Mr. Wyatt.”

  “Must be nice.” Sam crossed the threshold and down the dozen steep stairs, then drew his gun, not trusting that the police wouldn’t ambush him and claim he’d tried to escape. In the darkness, he searched for a door and his knuckles smacked a knob. He turned it. Dusky light poured down, and he slid out, then looked back as he closed the door. It disappeared into the wall. Neat trick, he thought, pulling out his comms.