Billionaire Decoded

by Nella Tyler

  Williams snickered. "Be that as it may, they're coming along."

  Brecken had to do something to convince Williams otherwise. He glanced at Alyson and lifted an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to bring her along on any mission? Seriously? Who's going to babysit these two? Who's going to keep them from clawing each other's eyes out?"

  Williams seemed to pause, glancing between Alyson and Heather. Brecken refused to look over his shoulder at Heather, although he did see the hatred that turned Alyson's face into a hard mask.

  "Why not just leave them here?" Brecken suggested. "They're just got to be a pain in the ass on any mission, and I can tell you that I, for one, don't particularly care to listen to either one of them whining, arguing, threatening, or fighting the entire way."

  Again, Williams seemed to consider. It was all Brecken could do to make himself look disgusted at the thought of bringing the two women along. He didn't have to hide his disgust when he glared at Alyson, but he still refused to look over his shoulder at Heather. He knew that she would be taking everything he said to heart. She would believe everything he was saying.

  Nevertheless, he was willing to risk her hatred if it meant saving her life. He knew that if those two women went to Afghanistan, they would never return. While he didn't much care what happened to Alyson, he did care what happened to Heather.

  "I'll tell you what, Shaw. I'm going to renegotiate."

  Brecken's heart skipped a beat. Renegotiate? Had he gone too far? Implied that the two women were nothing but a hindrance in the completion of whatever mission that they were bent on? He glanced at his former SEAL team, looking on with boredom. They didn't care what the hell happened to the women. He glanced at the Bolivian colonel. He was still focusing on his fingernails. What the hell was he doing here? What did the Bolivian colonel have to do with anything going on in Afghanistan? Drugs? Arms?

  "I'll tell you what, Shaw. Maybe we don't need to go to Afghanistan, after all; at least not yet. Maybe we just need information."

  "What kind of information?" Brecken asked; his eyes narrowed.

  "You're one of the world's greatest hackers, aren't you?"

  The question took him by surprise. "Yeah, so?"

  "Then you shouldn't have any trouble hacking into several government servers, would you?"

  Brecken shrugged as if it was no big deal, although he was beginning to feel an even greater alarm than he had felt earlier. Hacking into government servers. That meant something big. Something that wouldn't allow for witnesses to remain alive. Him or Heather. Maybe not even Alyson.

  While he had known his chances of survival were slim, his ex-commander’s query left him with no doubt that once the information was delivered, he, Alyson, and Heather would likely be killed. He glanced at Alyson, knew that she had no idea what was happening. But why was she here? That was the question that stayed in his mind. What had Alyson done? What had she told or offered the Bolivian colonel? Or was it Williams? And what kind of deal had she brokered with them?

  "What has she got to do with any of this?" Brecken finally asked, gesturing with his chin toward Alyson.

  "That's confidential information," William smiled.

  Once again, he felt the overwhelming urge to punch the smile off his former captain's face. He shook his head. "She's crazy," he said softly. "You know she is. She's unstable and will turn on you faster than you can say ‘what the hell happened?’"

  "I'm not worried about that right now."

  "What exactly is it that you want, Williams?"

  "I want the names of any and all insurgent groups that attacked American troops in Iraq and Afghanistan."

  That took Brecken by surprise. "Why?"

  "Because I want my revenge. We might not be able to find the men behind the orders, but we can always find their families, their tribes. They need to pay."

  He shook his head in disbelief. What? "Williams, we’re out of there now. We were sent to do a job and we did it. You know as well as I do that in combat, men are lost. Good men." He shook his head again. "You're going after civilians? Women and children?" He glanced at the old members of his team, men that he thought he had known very well. They had fought together, bled together, and dealt with the cold, the heat, the lack of food and water. Never in his life would he have thought that any of them would target innocent civilians.

  "You know what jihad means, don't you?" Williams said softly. "You know what these perverters of Islam are, don't you?"

  Brecken stared at his old friend. What the hell had happened to him? Was he off his rocker, too? He finally nodded. "Anyone who doesn't convert to Islam and live according to what they believe are the commands of Allah is considered infidels who deserve nothing more than to be slaughtered and removed from the face of the earth."

  "Well, I consider anyone who kills American soldiers to be an infidel. They deserve to die for perverting their own religious leaders, their own religion. An eye for an eye. Tooth-for-tooth. That's what our own good book says, doesn't it?"

  Brecken made a face. "This isn’t going to change anything. You know that, don't you? You know that it's going to perpetuate the animosity, the divisions. In taking revenge on civilians, you're going to put our troops that are still over there into danger. You do know that don't you?"

  "Save your bleeding heart rhetoric for someone who cares," Williams said. He gestured toward one of the ex-SEALs. "Bring the laptop." He looked at Brecken. "Sit over there," he instructed.

  Brecken looked behind him as the Bolivian colonel pulled up a chair and set it in the middle of the room. This wasn’t about revenge for insurgent attacks on American troops. That was too easy. No, there was something else at play here. He just didn’t know what it was. As he sat down, he glanced at Heather. He tried to give her a look, something that would comfort her and get her to see that he wasn't doing this of his own free will. He saw the look on her face, the look of loathing.

  One of his ex-team members brought over a laptop and a small tray like the kind he'd used as a child on a special Saturday nights when he and his family sat in the living room, eating their dinners on TV trays and watching special documentaries on television. He glanced up at his old buddy, Marc, but his old friend refused to meet his gaze. And well he should. At the moment, Brecken didn't know what he was going to do, but he had to do something.

  Heather remained where she was. Brecken knew it was to remind him that he had something to lose. Regardless of his protestations, Alyson had more than likely told Williams that he was fond of his new employee. He glanced at Alyson and she smiled, placing her hand on her abdomen as if to remind him. She made him sick. He glanced once more at Heather and saw the expression of hurt in her eyes. The pain of betrayal. In her eyes at this moment, he was nothing but a disgusting piece of shit, a traitor. He wished he could tell her not to worry, but the truth was, they both had something to worry about. If he didn’t find a way out of this, they were both going to die and probably before the hour was up.

  "Do it," Williams said.

  Brecken sighed and opened the laptop, then powered it up. He began to type. Williams moved to stand behind him. He accessed his mainframe and began typing in code as fast as he could. He wasn't making words or sentences. He doubted Williams would know what he was doing.

  He knew what Heather was thinking. She probably thought he was a coward. The truth was he had lied to her. He had put her in harm’s way as well. He continued to type.

  "Brecken, don't do it," Heather suddenly spoke up. "Don't-"

  "Shut up," the Bolivian colonel snapped from the other side of the room.

  Alyson laughed. The Bolivian turned to her. "You shut up, too."

  Alyson scowled. “How dare you talk to me like that!" she snapped. "Who do you think brought you in on this deal, anyway?"

  The Bolivian eyed her, and Brecken stopped typing as he watched the colonel stand and walk slowly toward Alyson. To Brecken’s surprise, she didn't show any fear. Rather, she smiled. Then, to his dismay,
the Bolivian reached out and stroked her hair. Alyson placed her hand on his, brought his hand to her mouth, then licked one of his fingers and then pulled it into her mouth. Brecken’s stomach heaved with disgust. She didn't care that everyone was watching.

  "Continue," Williams said.

  Swallowing, Brecken tore his gaze away from his ex-fiancée and returned to typing in code. Williams finally seemed to notice what he was doing.

  "What is that?"

  "It's code to access my files."

  "Why don’t you just log on to your server and access them?"

  Brecken looked over her shoulder, frowning. "And let every other hacker in the world back door access to my files? No way. I created my own program, using my own combination of computer languages so that only I have access to this information, and without leaving a trace that I’ve been digging in classified files."

  Williams eyed him with suspicion. "How do I know I can trust you?"

  Brecken shrugged. "I guess you don't." He stopped typing and lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want me to stop or keep going?"

  "Keep going," Williams gestured.

  "Monster."

  Brecken stiffened. That had come from Heather. He kept typing. Every once in a while, a file popped up and Brecken opened it. "Better write these names down, Williams, because this file is going to disappear within five minutes of opening without inserting a special code name and I don’t have that."

  Heather made another noise. Brecken glanced at her and tried to make eye contact, but she refused to look at him. Williams quickly snapped his fingers and one of his team members scurried over, pulling a small wire-bound notebook and pen from his pocket. Every time one of the files opened, Brecken quickly translated the information while Williams scribbled frantically.

  "Wait, what was that name again?" he asked one time.

  “Al-Qasim,” Brecken said. He kept typing. His fingers flew over the keyboard, the computer screen filled with line after line of code. "Secret after secret," he commented, glancing over his shoulder at Williams. "You see how much information our government keeps secret?”

  Williams smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "I told them you would come in handy with your computer skills," he said, nodding to the Bolivian colonel. "There's not a better hacker in the world."

  Time passed. At one point, he glanced up at Williams. "How long have I been doing this?" he asked.

  "Why?"

  "Because it only takes a couple of hours for even the slowest government geek to realize that someone has hacked into their system. I've hidden my trail very well, but no matter where you go, small packets of information end up getting through." Brecken was lying through his teeth, but could only hope that neither Williams nor any of the others knew anything about computer security. "I'll need to stop for a while before I start up again."

  Williams glanced at his watch. “It's been about ninety minutes." He turned to the others. “I suppose we can wait another half an hour, and then have you start up again. How many more files can you access?"

  "Have you ever seen the National Archives?" Brecken asked. He realized that Williams didn't know what he was talking about. "From what I've seen, there are more than a dozen more files that I can access. Each file is filled with names, locations, family members, massive amounts of information."

  He still didn't know what the Bolivian colonel had to do with any of this. He finally asked. "Williams, if you're out for revenge, what is it that he wants?" he gestured over shoulder at the Bolivian.

  "There's a certain family he's looking for. For his own reasons of course. When you've finished giving us what we want, you're going to give him what he wants."

  Brecken didn't blink. "I don't work for him. I work for you."

  "We'll see about that," Williams grinned. Then, moving to stand by Brecken, he watched as Brecken hit the enter button for the last time. He glanced at Heather and tried to convey a comforting glance. She merely stared at him. The screen filled with more code, although the code was much different than he'd been typing in several moments earlier. Williams didn't notice the difference. Good. Maybe he had managed to buy them some time. He just hoped that it would be enough. The screen went blank.

  Chapter 11

  Heather watched in disgust as Brecken laughed along with the others. How could he? He had turned toward her several times while he was typing on his computer, tried to smile at her, as if that would change her mind about him. How could he possibly think that she would want anything to do with him after she had seen his true colors? He wasn't a patriot. He was a traitor. Whoever had called and delivered that mysterious phone message had been right. How does it feel to be working for a traitor? She felt sick to her stomach.

  She watched the group chuckling and clapping each other on the back as Brecken merely sat there in his chair, the laptop closed on his lap. He wore a strange smile on his face, watching the others, but not joining in. Across the room, Alyson was rubbing her hand up and down the Bolivian’s thigh. Her stomach churned again. Disgusting.

  A few minutes later, Brecken turned to glance at her. He mouthed something. What? The next instant, the doors burst open. Everyone froze. Suddenly, the room exploded in a flash of bright light, followed immediately by an overwhelming, ear-shattering bang. Brecken leapt from his chair and in two steps was in front of her, reaching for her.

  "Get down!" he shouted.

  Before she could even reply, her ears ringing from the loud noise, she felt his arms wrap around her. He pulled her from the chair to the ground, cushioning her body from the hard cement floor with his own body before he rolled over her, covering her body with his own and sheltering her head with his arms and shoulders. Gunfire erupted in the room. She heard screams. It sounded female. Alyson.

  What the hell was happening? She heard the spurt of an automatic weapon, and then the returning fire from what sounded like handguns. A cry of pain. A gurgling noise. More gunshots. She smelled the acrid scent of gunpowder in the air. Heard the dull thuds as bullets found flesh. More cries and shouts. Chaos.

  She could see some movement under Brecken’s arm. Suddenly, the room was filled with helmeted, black-suited, Kevlar vest protected figures. She saw the acronyms emblazoned in bright white or yellow lettering on those vests. FBI…SWAT…DEA.

  And then, it was over. As suddenly as the commotion had started, it was over. Smoke roiled in the air. Heather stared around her, stunned. The Bolivian colonel lay in a puddle of blood, unmoving. An FBI agent already led a crying Alyson from the room. The man Brecken had been talking to, his former unit commander, also lay on the floor, half of his head blown away. She cringed, tried to swallow her cry of horror. Brecken looked over her shoulder, saw what she was staring at, and quickly hid her face in his shoulder.

  "Don't touch me!" she snapped, trying to roll out from under him.

  "It's over now, Heather," he said. "You're safe now."

  Her mind was spinning. She was confused. She tried to pull out of Brecken's grasp. She didn't want him touching her. "Leave me alone!"

  Instead, he quickly rolled off her, jumped to his feet and then grabbed her hand and lifted her from the floor. He propelled her out of the warehouse and into the darkness, now lit with flashing red and blue lights. The pavement in front of the warehouse milled with local police and agents from numerous agencies. Brecken pulled her off to the side.

  "Listen to me, Heather. I was typing encoded messages to one of my contacts at the local FBI office. They were passing on the information to these agencies the entire time. I knew it would take some time to get here, so I had to stall them-"

  "Slow down!" she urged. "I don't understand!" Now that she was away from the others and she realized that she was safe, that she was going to live, trembling overtook her. She knew it was adrenaline. Relief. Disbelief. Still, her mind was spinning. What was Brecken saying? He'd been working with local law enforcement?

  "It's going to be all right now, Heather. You're safe."

  They
were safe? She was safe? She looked up at him, drawn to the look in his eyes. He was holding her shoulders, compelling her to look at him. He stroked her hand along the side of her head, generally caressing, visibly wincing as his hand touched her wound. Then, his fingers traced along the side of her face and gently touched her split lip.

  "I'm so sorry, Heather. So sorry. I'll make this up to you-"

  Still stunned, she gazed over his shoulder. Every member of Brecken's former SEAL unit that had survived were being led away in handcuffs. She didn't see Alyson, but figured she was already in a car to be taken away by law enforcement. Good. It served the bitch right. She was a traitor.

  Law enforcement officers hustled back and forth. An ambulance arrived. A coroner's van. All of a sudden, it was too much for her. Uttering sounds that escaped from her sore throat, she began pounding her small fists against Brecken's arms, his chest, his shoulders, everywhere she could make contact. He didn't stop her. He let her pound on him, as if he understood.

  Dammit, she didn't want him to understand. She wanted to be furious at him for jeopardizing her safety. Suddenly, the anger drained from her. Shaking, she began to cry. Her relieved weeping turned into sobs and she sagged against him. He wrapped her in his embrace.

  "It's all right, Heather," he said. "You're fine. You’re going to be fine. I'm so sorry you had to go through this. So sorry…"

  A moment later, a DEA and FBI agent approached.

  "Shaw, we're going to need to debrief you-"

  "I'll meet you in a little while," he promised. "First, I'm going to take her home-"

  "One of our agents can drive her home," the FBI agent said.

  "No," Brecken said, shaking his head. "I'll take her home and then I'll come down to your office. You know I'll keep my word," he said to the FBI agent.

  With a sigh, the FBI agent acquiesced. "It'll take us a while to clean up around here, anyway. I expect you in my office in one hour."

  Brecken cleared his throat. "Could somebody take us to her apartment? I could call a taxi, but…"