by V. R. Marks
The Morcos family finances were solid and the corporate records showed a hefty profit margin. She didn't doubt the bottom line was padded with shadier deals. The Morcos' were too powerful, knew too many people around the world.
During her Army career, she'd learned things that might strike her as unethical were simply the cost of doing business in a global market. Different countries operated with different rulebooks. If you wanted to make progress, you learned how to cater to the people who approved the contracts. Black and white philosophies, a pristine line between good and bad, just weren't possible.
So why would Bakr hide his bids for contracts in the US? And why eliminate his brother? Greed was a universal motivator, but a thirst for power didn't strike Eva as enough reason to risk his freedom and posh lifestyle.
Even with Abraham out of the way, Bakr would have to report to the board of directors as well as any criminal interests they'd been involved with.
While she worked through the information, she heard Carson dealing with the security team. She needed to thank him as soon as things calmed down. It was much easier to focus on her part of this operation knowing he had her back.
Hearing Ross' voice at the door, she closed the cases on both laptops and walked out to greet them, only to watch Ross cross through the trashed kitchen to see the intruder.
The man didn't utter the smallest groan while Ross demanded answers, but that changed when Ross signaled to Abraham. The intruder shouted and tried to scramble off the paramedic's gurney. She couldn't make out the words, but she got the impression he would've made some sort of a sign to ward off evil if his hands hadn't been cuffed.
When the intruder had been silenced, Eva finally faced the man she'd let down so terribly.
"Mr. Morcos," she said, extending her hand as Ross guided him into the den. "I'm Eva Battaglia."
He hesitated, sizing her up before raising her hand to his lips. "It is an honor."
How could he say that? She swallowed around the lump in her throat.
"My apologies for the deplorable behavior of my brother."
His obvious discomfort, layered over guilt, surprised her. He was a different man than she'd researched and analyzed before that fateful mission.
"I have apologized to your man in the hospital as well."
"I'm sure he appreciated that." It seemed as though they'd both brought plenty of baggage to this meet. She turned to Ross. "How is he?"
"Running the nurses ragged and complaining about the coffee."
"So he's on the mend."
"Should be released later today. I've notified the right people."
"Great. Then let's get down to the more urgent matter here. How did your brother kill you?" From his position a half step behind Morcos, Ross rolled his eyes.
"Car accident."
"Common enough." She stepped back, inviting them to join her in the den. "I know we don't have much time, but it would give me a better understanding and possibly a way to find him if you could tell me about it."
Abe nodded in agreement. "We were returning from a photo opportunity with a local school. The brakes went out. Amelia and I survived only because we were expecting it and had taken precautions."
Used to seeing Abe in nothing less than thousand-dollar suits, Eva thought he'd managed the typical American business causal look perfectly with a polar fleece vest, cable knit sweater, and khaki trousers. "Amelia has helped with the ruse?"
"Yes. We had further assistance from my driver. Bakr believed he had the man's loyalty. The money Bakr paid funded a new playground at the children's hospital."
Eva chuckled. "He will hate that if he finds out. Amelia and your driver are both in a safe location?"
"Yes. My man on Bakr's team here has told me where your soldier is being held. He is generally unharmed."
"We've handled that much," Ross said.
"You have already rescued him?" Abraham's gray brows arched in surprise. "How interesting."
"Eva," Ross said with a pointed look, "Abe wants his life and his company back. How do we make that happen?"
Running the company, Abraham had access to information that would be helpful to American interests. "I've been working on it," Eva replied. "Did you know your brother bid on a project in Fort Bragg, North Carolina? He presented his bid with a new company name, claiming it was a new division."
"That is irrelevant," Abe grumbled. "A ruse."
Taken aback, she glanced to Ross, but her boss only shrugged. "Why?"
Abe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You are talented with languages and assessment. What do you know now that you missed years ago?"
"I –I'm not sure. I haven't yet checked the file."
"You do not want to."
"It's not a fond memory."
"The official file will help you?"
Probably not. The evening was etched in her mind. "At the time, we believed the kidnapping was meant to encourage you to sell weapons to a new group."
"Those weapons were already gone. The transaction handled another way," Abe said. "Whether or not the weapons were there, something was out of place that night. You are an analyst, you know this. What was wrong with the rescue?"
"The chatter," she said quietly. "I didn't realize it until later. Until the team was stuck," she finished on a whisper. "We were too late."
"We were all too late." Abraham massaged his fist with his other hand. "My son left me a message. Bakr arranged my death when he learned I had it in my possession."
Eva perked up. "What kind of message?"
With an apology to Ross, Abraham switched to Russian.
"I am afraid it is technology beyond my ability. Information I only recently learned about. The last time I saw my son, I interrupted a heated argument between him and Bakr."
"What was the problem?"
Abraham shrugged, spread his palms out wide. "I heard my son arguing with his uncle over family and honor and heart." He tapped his chest. "He accused Bakr of being a curse on the Morcos name. The next day he was kidnapped."
Eva struggled to breathe, to listen, as the memories of that night rushed in and meshed with this new information. Tears welled in his eyes as he explained finding – and doubting – the note from his son that claimed Bakr was betraying the company. That his brother was diverting funds and hijacking a carefully staged weapons exchange.
"I did not want to believe," he finished. In the end, he'd had mere hours to prevent the disaster and move the weapons out early, but he'd lost his son when Bakr retaliated.
"You still have proof?"
Abraham nodded. "Proof that will get him killed, or worse, jailed."
"Why now?" She asked in English. "It's been two years."
"I received a new message," he replied in Russian. "There is a file. It was sent to Bakr as well."
"So knowing you know, he kills you. Thank God he missed. But what does that have to do with me?"
"In my opinion, my brother believes you overheard something – the code that will unlock the file and release the funds that will save him from the mafia he double crossed when my son interfered with his plan. I am sure he has been doing other favors for them, but the score is far from settled."
All of them turned toward the sound of more voices in the hallway. Eva recognized Special Agent Nichols and immediately switched back to Russian. "You believe the code is in the message from your son?"
"I do not know. As I said this is beyond my understanding. What I believe is that you can figure it out," he replied, pressing a flash drive into her hand. "You are my only hope to stop him."
"Thanks for picking him up," Nichols said to Ross as he joined them. "I'll take over his security if you're done here."
Eva nodded, her mind already working through her memories of that mission. What signals had she overlooked the night Abe's son was killed?
While Ross and Nichols worked out safety, communication, and access she noticed Abe's slumped shoulders. "Mr. Morcos?"
&n
bsp; "Forgive me." He blinked several times. "Sometimes my sorrow is overwhelming. But you will put an end to my brother's madness."
Her throat clogged up at the sadness radiating from him. "I'm sorry," she managed. She wanted to explain, to assure him they'd done their best to get his son out alive, but the words wouldn't come.
"You must not be." He took her hands. "My son lives on, he guides me still. I pray he will guide you to justice."
She watched them go, turning the message over in her mind as she tucked the flash drive safely into her pocket. She was eager to open it up, to compare whatever was on the drive with the after action report from that mission, assuming she'd find a connection or clue.
Unfortunately she wasn't eager to share what might be on the flash drive with the ghost on the other end of the FBI computers.
* * *
Carson assessed the problems within the security team and dealt with the repairs to the back door while Eva and Ross met with Mr. Morcos in the den. Ross had warned him Special Agent Nichols was on the way in from Columbia.
Unhappy it made them easy targets, Carson ordered the perimeter security team to close in, posting guards at the front door as well as the deck. It couldn't be helped. They'd all volunteered for this detail and the move was standard procedure while they waited for the all-clear from the team exploring the rest of the property. The guard who'd been compromised by the intruder still hadn't been found.
No shock to anyone that Ross hadn't gotten any helpful information out of the intruder. What surprised Carson was that he hadn't put much effort into it. When the injured man had recognized Mr. Morcos, he'd erupted with a terrified outburst. Carson might not have known the language, but he understood a man pleading for mercy when he heard it and he was shallow enough to appreciate the fear contorting the intruder's features.
Morcos hadn't been moved. The man's cold stare had promised retribution rather than understanding as the paramedics were finally allowed to wheel their patient away.
Neither Eva nor Ross showed concern for the situation and Carson reminded himself it wasn't his business. And as long as Mr. Morcos took his revenge elsewhere, it wasn't a sheriff's department problem.
No, this was an RC Investigations problem. And an FBI problem, he added when Nichols came rushing in a few minutes later.
Carson pointed toward the den and went back to the cleanup.
He felt terrible that Ruth's Santa Claus cookie jar had been killed in action. The colorful pieces of ceramic and broken cookies made a sick sort of kaleidoscope, swirling with the glass from the window as he swept up the mess.
Maybe one of the women in his family would know where to find a replacement.
The radio at his hip crackled again and he jerked. His reaction irritated him, even though he knew it was typical to be edgy so soon after a fight.
"There's a delivery van pulling into the driveway," the guard out front reported.
"On my way," Carson replied. Assuming it was the new door from the hardware store, he left the debris in the kitchen to go help haul it in.
It was a rush of relief when his brother, Wade, hopped down from the driver's seat. "Hey." He'd known it was inconvenient, but he refused to take any more risks with Eva's life or Ruth's property.
"Got yourself a nice little vacation home here," Wade teased, pushing up the bill of his ball cap. "Ruth give you a good deal on it?"
"Shut up."
Wade only grinned as he opened the back of the van. "What's with the armed guard?"
Carson leaned close, like he was about to impart the wisdom of the ages. "That's need to know."
"Typical." Wade snorted. "Word at the Rooster is you pulled body guard detail for that hot Italian girl," he said when Carson's hands were too full of door to smack him.
"You want details, join the department."
"Touch-y. I just want to meet –"
Wade finally accomplished the rare feat of silence when he caught sight of the mess in the kitchen. "Holy shit, J.C. Are you okay?"
Carson held up a hand, warding off the concern. "Just put the door in. And don't touch anything on the island. I'm waiting for evidence bags."
"Okay, but –"
"You can keep the current lockset right?"
Wade nodded. "Sure."
"Good. That'll make things easier for Ruth."
Carson resumed his cleanup while Wade tore the protective wrap off of the new door.
"Mom says you might not be at Christmas Eve dinner."
"Not now, Wade." He dumped a full dustpan into the trash can and went back for the next.
"I was just thinking if you can get away with a to-go sort of thing, it opens up options for the rest of us."
"Dare you to try it." He knew his mother had no intention of making an exception, for him or any of his siblings, regardless of the circumstances.
Suddenly it seemed like a stupid idea to bring his brother into the mix, this close to the danger. If the bastard pulling the strings was watching… He cut off the thought at the knees. Negativity wouldn't help him get past this any faster.
Second-guessing good decisions changed nothing. Still, the sooner Wade was gone, the better. "Just get the door done."
"We're adults," Wade continued, warming to the subject. "When do we get treated accordingly?"
Carson figured it wouldn't be until their elders were dead and gone. Morris family tradition wasn't going to change for either of them anytime soon. And when they were the oldest in the room, they'd probably pull the same stunts with their own children. Life was like that.
He didn't want to have the 'oppressive older generation' conversation. "How's Sheldon doing?"
"Your stupid dog –"
"Brilliant dog."
"Your opinion. He's fine and having a blast teaching my pair to howl at everything."
Carson chuckled. Wade might gripe, but it wasn't sincere. "Don't spoil him too much."
"Like I could do any more damage on that score than you already have. You've been feeding him from the table again."
"Not true. He's just testing you. Being brilliant, he knows a soft touch when he sees one."
"Whatever gets you through the night," Wade grumbled.
Carson turned up the volume when the radio crackled again. The sheriff's voice filled the kitchen, announcing the discovery of the missing guard and a request for an ambulance.
"Are you hunting anywhere around Turkey Run in the next day or two?" The property had been in his mother's family for as long as anyone knew. She claimed her grandfather had turned it into a hunting club when he'd retired to hide from her grandmother.
"No. Why?"
"Anyone else going that way that you know of?"
Wade frowned as he removed the old door. "Doubt it. There's been more action on the other side of Bishopville this year."
"Good. Keep it that way if you can. And keep this conversation to yourself." Carson turned away from his brother's wide-eyed shock. "I'm doing a walk-through upstairs."
He took the stairs two at a time, mentally crossing his fingers Ruth's .22 was in the nightstand. He wanted Eva armed. Now.
In his mind, the scene played out again as the intruder tried to get through him to her. He didn't care what Ross thought about her ability to hit a target. Weapon was better than no weapon.
Sirens cried out across the quiet morning once more and he knew if things didn't settle down soon, the sheriff would have his hands full. The Haleswood community took pride in their general safety.
Pulling open the nightstand drawer, he saw the soft gleam of the snub-nose revolver and he sagged onto the bed, staring at it. Reality was sinking in and feeling heavier by the minute.
He'd shot a man in the line of duty. Not fatal, but the guy would limp for the rest of his days. Wasn't he supposed to feel more remorse? He didn't. No, he'd gladly do it again without a second thought if it kept Eva – or anyone else – safe.
He heard footsteps in the hallway and knew it was her. No one else
in this house had such a light step.
"Carson?"
"In here." He glanced up as she stopped at the open bedroom door.
"I'm supposed to –" She reached for her pendant. "Oh. I know that look. There had to be a first time."
"How'd you know?" He reached for the revolver, flipping the cylinder out. Pleased to find it loaded, he flicked his wrist and it dropped back into place.
"I'm the queen of intel, remember? Accessing your personnel file was no big deal."
He winced. Beautiful and regal might describe her to a 'T', but he hated her old nickname right now.
"My apologies," she said. "I know that's supposed to be private."
"It's not that." He shook his head, tried to smile. He didn't need to give her any cause to worry. "I'll get over it."
She stepped closer. "I met your brother."
"I'm sure you did." He rolled his eyes. "Wade's good with his hands."
"All that Morris family training I'm sure," she said with a smile. "And you're not in much of a mood to trust anyone but family."
"It shows, huh?" He reminded himself it was her job to observe and analyze. "Ross warned me this wasn't an average situation."
"Warnings are nice, but it's always different when you're in it."
She took another step, putting her within arm's reach. He'd wanted to touch her since he'd first seen her. Staying under the same roof, danger aside, was quickly turning that initial want into a driving need. He held out the revolver grip first, instead of doing something stupid like dragging her down onto the bed. "It's loaded."
"I noticed." She winked at him, but didn't take the gun.
"Will you carry it until we're done here? Please?" If he failed to stop the next attack, he wanted to know she had a fighting chance to defend the computer between her ears.
"Maybe," she said, gently pushing the gun aside.
He studied that singular point of contact, taking in every detail. Her hand was warm and so much smaller than his, but he knew size was no indicator of her real strength.
"One condition."
"Don't tease me." He couldn't have stopped his body's response to her husky voice if he'd been dead. He kept his mouth shut, all too ready to promise her anything – everything – for the chance to hold her. Just until the fear subsided.