by Jordan Dane
“And what exactly is it that you do for your…employer?” she questioned.
“I monitor the region and maintain Echelon III,” the man said. “I intercepted your SAT-phone communication and eavesdropped, I’m afraid. Mea culpa.”
“Echelon is a surveillance program, isn’t it?” Kinkaid slumped back in his chair. He didn’t look happy at being taken in by this unassuming guy, especially not after the man saw through his lies.
“It’s much more than that,” the priest argued. “It’s an entire network that provides vital information to support national security, military operations, and law enforcement. Such intelligence is at the heart of the world’s struggle against terrorism. And the intel we obtain can also act as a deterrent against serious crime.”
Alexa sorted through her memory for details on Echelon. Run by four agencies within the United Kingdom and counterparts within the U.S., Echelon III was an updated version of a global network of computers that automatically searched through cell-phone calls, satellite transmissions, faxes, and e-mails, acting like a massive vacuum cleaner.
The program intercepted messages and funneled the gathered data through state-of-the-art computer processors in a network of stations, looking for keywords that generated an alert. And each station had its own Echelon “dictionary” that was merged with all the keywords for the four agencies. The interactive array would disseminate the analyzed data, filtering a wealth of raw information down to a manageable report for further oversight.
If this priest monitored the region, he maintained the local “dictionary,” which stored extensive data on specific targets, including names, topics of interest, addresses, and phone numbers—a database of key surveillance parameters for this part of the world.
“If you manage Echelon”—Alexa furrowed her brow—“that means you’re a spook undercover. Who do you work for? The NSA? GCHQ?”
The Government Communications Headquarters was the U.K.’s version of the NSA.
“That doesn’t really matter. We’re on the same side. And besides, you have limited options.” The priest took another cookie. “If you hadn’t come to me, I would have sought you out. From the first mention of Sayed’s name on your SAT phone, a red flag went up. Abdul Kabir Sayed was involved in an incident in the British Virgin Islands that my people investigated. This fellow has been making a name for himself. He’s ambitious enough to become the next Bin Laden. So it would appear we both have an interest in him.”
“I have only one interest in that bastard. He abducted a friend of mine. A woman. And he still has her,” Kinkaid said, leaning forward. “We’ve tracked him to Baracoa. You have any idea who he’d go to for help?”
“Yes, I have a pretty good candidate,” the man told them. “Jamal Ghazi is an arms dealer with connections to al-Qaeda. He lives in a compound north of Baracoa. Only one road runs north out of Baracoa. It will take you straight to him. He’s well armed and has a small army working for him.”
Father Ignatius not only provided the address, he gave them a sketched layout of Ghazi’s compound, including his best guess on where captives might be held. He told them that since Ghazi had been under his surveillance, he had such information readily available.
“If Sayed is looking for a place to hide, that’s where he’d go. But you’d better have more than just the two of you making a house call.”
Alexa almost told the priest that she had a backup team coming, but she resisted the urge to share the intel. In her line of work, trust had to be earned. And there was too much at stake for her to blindly have faith in a wily stranger like Father Ignatius.
“Tell me, what will you do with him once you find Sayed?” the clergyman asked her, then shifted his gaze to Kinkaid. “You look as if you fancy yourself a cowboy. Will it be a gunfight at the O.K. Corral?”
“That’s none of your…”
Alexa interrupted Kinkaid. “Thanks for opening up to us…Father.” She stood and shook the man’s hand. “And we appreciate the intel.”
“God’s speed.” The clergyman nodded.
Alexa left the church with Kinkaid and pondered what the priest had told them. Dark scenarios ran through her head, especially if Father Ignatius had ulterior motives for sending them into a firefight. The man could be in league with local terrorists or be looking to disgrace U.S. operatives on foreign soil.
Neither of them spoke until they got far enough away from the cathedral and had made certain they were not followed. Without asking, she knew Kinkaid was heading back to the motel.
Her backup team would arrive soon. And they had a siege to plan.
“Do you trust him?” she asked as she kept pace with his lengthy strides.
He thought too long about his answer to give her any real comfort.
“He’s all we’ve got.”
New York City
Sentinels Headquarters
Garrett heard the insistent knock on his door and knew who stood on the other side. Tanya had called earlier and said she had something urgent.
“Come in, Tanya.”
She entered his office with a file in her hand and Seth Harper at her heels. Harper wore navy slacks and a white dress shirt, but under his shirt he wore something else. The clear image of a Jerry Springer T-shirt was visible. When Garrett saw it, a smile tugged at his lips.
“What do you have, Tanya?” he asked, and gestured a hand toward chairs in front of his desk. “Please. Have a seat.”
“Harper found something. I’ll let him explain.” She winked at Seth and handed him the file.
“Sayed uploaded another video, and he used his SAT phone again,” Seth began. “Since I narrowed my search pattern to southeast Cuba and had his voiceprint, my program alerted me when he made a call. I traced the origin right away.”
“And? Do you know where he is?” Garrett asked.
“Yeah, I think so.” Harper opened the file and spread a satellite overview of Cuba on his desk.
“You think so? How sure are you, Seth?”
“That depends on how much you trust the intel on the British Virgin Islands abductions, sir. If Sayed was behind those kidnappings, then yes, the voiceprint matches.”
When Garrett looked at Tanya, she nodded, and said, “That investigation was solid. I think we’ve got Sayed, thanks to Harper.”
Garrett looked down at the map on his desk again. “Where is he? Do we know what this facility is?” He pointed to a spot on the map that had been marked.
“Yeah, and you’re not going to like it.” Tanya reached across his desk and pointed to a road. “There’s only one way going in and out of Baracoa. And that facility north of town belongs to an arms dealer, Jamal Ghazi. He’s been linked to al-Qaeda. He’s one nasty son of a bitch.”
“Dig up all you can on Ghazi and get it to Alexa and Hank Lewis as soon as possible. What’s the ETA for Hank’s team?”
“They’ll be in Baracoa in ten minutes,” Tanya told him. “But there’s more. Seth, tell him.”
“It was easy to lock on Sayed’s call at the origination point, but I adapted my program to expedite the trace to its destination. Sayed was calling someone in Afghanistan. Tanya thinks it’s his handler. If that’s correct, we may have someone deeper into his network.”
“Good work, Seth. Both of you.” He smiled. “Tanya, I want to contact Alexa and Hank ASAP. We need our hands on Sayed and to get our people out of Cuba…tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “I’ll have dispatch make contact immediately. They’ll route the calls to you.”
Garrett watched Tanya and her new charge leave his office. With Tanya’s sharp thinking, they had worked as a team to identify the target and expedite the online hunt. And Seth Harper had adapted and improvised to isolate a significant thread tied to a terrorist network. As pleased as he was with the good news, Garrett knew the most dangerous part of the mission still remained. Cornering a terrorist cell led by a treacherous leader like Abdul Kabir Sayed could be deadly, especially if their ob
jective was to take the bastard alive.
His thoughts turned to Alexa, a woman who had a place in his heart—and had always deserved better.
Offshore Baracoa, Cuba
As Joe LaClaire’s boat sped toward the shore, its hull hit the tops of waves and kicked up a fine salty mist that covered Jessie’s face. With LaClaire at the helm, she stood in the bow of the boat and held on, staring dead ahead at the only lights on the horizon. This would be her first mission with the Sentinels. And even though it had only been a short time since she’d last seen Alexa, it felt like ages. Worrying about a friend wreaked havoc on her sense of time.
In the wake of LaClaire’s boat followed another craft, carrying the rest of her team. Being a rookie, she had been assigned to stick with Hank Lewis until the teams were split between him and Alexa, their team leaders. Hank was a man of few words, but she’d liked him immediately, which was unusual for her. She normally didn’t take to strangers that soon. Maybe her respect for Hank had something to do with his treatment of the rescued hostages—the men, women, and children who had been abducted from Haiti. Hank had filled the team in on what had happened.
With Alexa still in Cuba, they couldn’t afford to have the world media’s attention on what remained of her mission, but the rescued hostages needed tending. Hank had arranged for medical attention and also had the Haitian families join their rescued loved ones in a private location, away from the media. It had been a humane outcome that served the objectives of the Sentinels as well as the needs of those rescued and the people who loved them. She admired Garrett for arranging it.
Soon they would land in a harbor near Baracoa, Cuba, and join Alexa and Jackson Kinkaid, a man she’d never met. That would happen shortly. Her team leader had already made contact with Alexa.
Their rendezvous and transportation had been arranged. As their boat neared shore, Hank’s SAT phone rang, and he answered it.
“Moonshine Two. Talk to me, home base.”
Although Jessie only overheard Hank’s side of the conversation, she understood enough to know they now had a specific location to find their target. And she knew Harper had worked his magic to find the terrorist in Baracoa. Despite her adrenaline rush for the mission ahead, she couldn’t help but smile when she thought about Seth.
“Way to go, genius,” she whispered.
Father Ignatius had waited for his guests to leave before he slipped into his private residence. Behind his home theater—a personal eccentricity—he had a safe room that stored his high-tech equipment and link to Echelon. While Mrs. Torres had puttered around the room with a feather duster, he observed Jackson Kinkaid and Alexa Marlowe by surveillance cameras as they walked from the cathedral.
When he knew for certain that they had gone, he got to work.
He searched for more details on the backgrounds of Kinkaid and Marlowe to do a proper search. His efforts took time, but the results were worth it. What he found only gave him more cause for alarm. They were too experienced to attempt an assault on the Ghazi stronghold without help and resources. And although neither of them had mentioned they’d be working with an assault team, he had to assume they wouldn’t be alone. If they attacked Ghazi, they had a strong chance at succeeding with their mission to save Kinkaid’s friend—and killing anyone in their path, including Abdul Kabir Sayed.
He considered his next step carefully before he acted. But act, he must. After weighing the consequences of his decision, he picked up the encrypted phone he had in the safe room and made a call. A man answered on the second ring.
“You’ll soon have company.” The priest told him what he knew. “As a precaution, we must get Sayed out tonight. He’s vital to our cause. We have no choice now.”
He ended the call as his loyal housekeeper and confidante came into the room. She had a service of tea and a snack.
“Mrs. Torres, you’d better shed the apron,” he told her. “I’ll be needing your services.”
CHAPTER 20
North of Baracoa, Cuba
Alexa and Kinkaid had arrived at the harbor in two SUVs they’d misappropriated from a rental-car agency for their rendezvous with Hank and his team. This time of night, the vehicles wouldn’t be missed. In the wake of the hurricane, Baracoa was dead, with the harbor deserted. When they met the backup team at the dock, Jessie had gifts from Garrett. Uniforms, full assault gear, and body armor. Everything a woman would need.
After the bounty hunter grinned and tossed a bag of gear onto the pier in front of her, she stuffed black BDU pants into her arms.
“Guess this makes us a twisted version of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.”
“It would take magic pants to get either of us at a chick flick.” Alexa returned her smile. “Good to see you, Jess.”
“Yeah, you, too.” Jessie shifted her gaze toward Kinkaid, who was changing into the gear Hank brought him. With a concerned look on her face, she asked, “Is that the FNG?”
Before Alexa could answer, she added, “Who knew Gerard Butler had a doppelgänger? He’s fine with a capital ‘F,’ but is he okay? He looks…sick.”
“Yeah, bullets tend to do that.” Alexa changed as she talked. “He’s runnin’ on empty, Jessie. I don’t know how long he’ll hold out, but he’s determined to see this through…if that infection doesn’t kill him first.”
“Then we better get moving.” Jessie had accepted what she’d said and didn’t ask questions. She only wanted to help. It reminded Alexa why she’d wanted her as a partner.
They split the teams between the two vehicles and loaded up the gear. Heading north on the only road out of town, it didn’t take them long to find the private residence of Jamal Ghazi.
From a safe distance, Alexa used night-vision binoculars for a sweeping look over the arms dealer’s compound. The sprawling estate was a fortress bordered by a formidable stone wall. Security lights made it a beacon amidst the darkness. And men patrolled the grounds at regular intervals. The sketched layout from Father Ignatius closely mirrored what she saw below. Having the advance intel made her more comfortable with their strategy, but all the lights and activity on the grounds gave her reason to be concerned.
“A lot going on down there,” she whispered to Hank and Kinkaid. “You think they’re expecting us?”
“Hard to say,” Hank said as he looked through his binoculars. “Maybe recon will have something.”
Alexa had sent two teams to scout the perimeter. While she waited for more intel, she laid out preliminary plans for the assault. She would lead a team of seven, including Kinkaid and Beckett. Hank Lewis had the same number and would focus his attack from the front of the compound. His timed diversionary assault was intended to draw Ghazi’s men into the fight. That left her to cover the back. And in stealth mode—after Hank had initiated the action—her team would infiltrate the estate, looking for Kate.
For the assault, they would use the wireless communication links Garrett had sent. The links were voice-activated and would work effectively as long as her team stayed within distance of each other.
When the scouts returned, Alexa used their input to come up with a final assault plan. She gave the order to get into position. As she moved in the dark with her team, Alexa was aware of Kinkaid next to her. He was a force she found hard to ignore under normal circumstances, but with him along, this mission hadn’t been normal from the start. And now—given her orders to bring Sayed in alive regardless of what happened to Kate—she felt as if she’d turned against him.
With any luck at all, she wouldn’t be forced into such a choice. Still, the notion of betraying him weighed heavy on her conscience. When she got to her spot, she communicated with Hank through her com unit.
“Martini One in position.”
“Copy that, Martini One.”
They had a plan and would go in only after Hank initiated his assault. Alexa watched her team settle into their locations. And Kinkaid crouched by her. When he took off his com set and fixed his eyes on hers, she did
the same.
Whatever he had in mind, he wanted privacy.
They were alone for one last time before the attack began. She saw in his eyes that his fever had gotten worse, but something else lingered there. He wanted her. Needed her. And for one brief moment, he was hers. Around them, whatever was about to happen faded to black. All that remained was the two of them. And everything that she felt for him welled inside her, breaking free in an impossible rush.
He pulled her to his chest and lowered his lips to hers. With his taut body pressed against her, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment as Kinkaid held her. He kissed her as if he had invented it. And the smell of his skin was intoxicating. His hands on her body left her jonesing for more, but the toe-curling heat ended way too soon. When he pulled back, she was breathless, stunned, and utterly speechless.
“What? Nothing to say?” He grinned, an expression she hadn’t seen in a very long time. “If I knew that’s all it would take, I would have kissed you more often.”
Alexa looked into his eyes, wondering if she’d misread his meaning for the sudden affection. If Kinkaid had a death wish, his kiss might have meant—
“What was the kiss for?” she asked.
“It’s not good-bye. It’s just…because I had to.”
Alexa narrowed her eyes and slapped him. The smack was only hard enough to get his attention.
“What the hell was that for?” He grimaced and rubbed his cheek.
“That’s a reminder”—she raised an eyebrow—“for you to be careful.”
“How thoughtful. I’ll try and remember.”
When she turned away, Kinkaid grabbed her arm.
“You and your men don’t have to do this.” He had trouble meeting her gaze. “They’d be risking their lives to save one person. I’d understand if you changed your mind.”