by Vanessa Kier
“And people think I have bad luck,” Kirra muttered.
“It was clear that the attack had been going on for some time and that our forces were being overrun,” Seth continued. “The special agents, the MPs and I ran for a helicopter and managed to escape.”
“They let you fly it?”
“Yeah. At gunpoint. I did some fast talking, because one of the agents thought I’d set them up to be killed. The other one, though, had seen the attackers enter the room and realized that I’d been their target. When I insisted that I could prove my innocence, that they needed to talk to my teammates at the secret base, the agents eventually agreed.”
“Didn’t the attackers try to stop you from flying away?”
“A couple of guys shot at us halfheartedly, but they were too busy trying to gain control of the base to pay us much attention.”
“So you flew them to the secret base.”
“Yeah.” Seth’s hand formed a fist and beat against the wall. “We…ah…saw the smoke first. The base had been firebombed and was still burning. I flew as close as I dared, then I set the helicopter down and raced toward the fire. You know how it is in the movies when the hero runs blindly toward his ruined home? That was me. It never occurred to me that the fire was still too hot for me to search. I was too desperate to find out if anyone had survived. But…”
He fell silent for several minutes. When he finally resumed, emotions thickened his voice. “A wall of heat forced me to stop, but I could see into the parade ground. Bodies covered every inch of the area, as if they’d been called to assembly and then gunned down. I don’t remember exactly what happened next. All I remember is feeling a sense of panic and wanting desperately to discover that my teammates weren’t among the dead. Later, one of the special agents told me that I tried to run through the flames, but the MPs pulled me away. Apparently I fought them until we were shot at.
“One of the MPs was killed, along with the ‘good cop’ special agent. The rest of us bolted for the helicopter, but the attackers hit it with an RPG. So we fled into the jungle on foot, with the attackers hot on our heels. We eventually eluded our pursuers, but by that time the remaining MPs were dead and the special agent had been shot in the shoulder.”
“What about your wounds?”
Seth shrugged. “Not bad enough to slow me down, although I did have some burns on my hands and arms. The special agent and I eventually reached the outskirts of a town and found a place to hole up. I patched him up the best I could. By this time he’d admitted that he believed I was telling the truth. He called someone he trusted, intending to ask for help. When he couldn’t get through, I called an MP on another base who was a close friend. He told me that the main base had been attacked by members of the local drug cartel, who’d eventually blown the base up. Everyone was presumed dead. I explained our situation and asked for protection. He told me to call back the next day.
“That night, we were attacked in our hotel room by a group of cartel members. The special agent was killed and I barely escaped. When I finally found another safe place and called my friend back, I learned he was dead.” Seth drummed his fingers against the window sill.
“The same scenario happened twice more. I reached out for help. At one friend’s suggestion, I even emailed a video statement to him. But even though I warned my friends of the danger, and I know they would have taken precautions, they were all killed after talking to me.”
No wonder Seth didn’t think she was safe with him.
“By this time, I’d picked up a tail. A man I recognized as being part of the general’s personal protection detail. A skilled sniper. So I ran, only staying in one place long enough to catch an hour or two of sleep before moving on.
“Eventually, though, I ran out of energy. I’d never received treatment for my wounds and one of them was becoming infected. I needed a doctor, but I didn’t dare expose myself with the assassin on my trail. So I set a trap for him. And I killed him. He didn’t see me. I waited until he was in range, then shot him in the back. In cold blood.”
Her heart ached so much, she couldn’t bear it.
“I didn’t sign up to be an assassin,” Seth said so quietly she almost couldn’t catch the words. “Killing because it was necessary for my own survival, rather than to protect my teammates, my country, or our allies—” He shook his head. “It changed me.”
“Of course it did.” Now it was perfectly clear why he’d tried so hard to convince her he was a bad man. She stared at his back in despair, realizing just how difficult a task she had ahead of her. Because she didn’t know what it would take to convince Seth that despite all he’d done, he was still a good man at heart.
“I left the body floating face down in a stream. Then I disappeared into the nearest large city and found someone to treat my infection without asking questions.” He shot her a look over his shoulder. “I didn’t have any money with me, so I stole enough to keep myself alive and to pay the doctor. A couple of days later, I met a guy in a bar who was former military and working for a group of mercenaries who protected NGOs and scientific expeditions. He offered me work. I accepted, but gave him a false name.”
“Michael Hughes?”
“You said Sankoh called me that?”
“Yeah. He showed me your ID as proof that he held you prisoner.”
“Ah. No, I used a different alias at that point. My intention was to reach South Africa, where I wouldn’t stand out as a white man. Then I’d make my way back to the States and connect in person with another friend I thought might be able to help me. You have to remember, at this point either the military thought I was dead, or AWOL. I knew the special agent would have been keeping his superiors apprised of his progress. So it was likely that if I showed up at any U.S. military facility, I’d be arrested.
“I worked for the mercenaries for a couple of months until I felt secure that no other assassin was on my trail. Then the group helped me get into South Africa and hooked me up with a forger. That’s where the alias Michael Hughes was born. Michael for my teammate who died when the general’s men shot down his helicopter. Hughes because they make helicopters.”
Kirra watched Seth standing at the window and noticed how his thumb flicked against his index finger. Her heart ached. “You didn’t choose the name merely as a tribute, did you? It’s a constant reminder of what you see as your failure to save your men.”
He jerked his shoulders up, but didn’t answer.
He appeared so alone, she couldn’t take it. So she stood and walked over to him. Resting her hand gently on his back, she asked, “If you killed the assassin, then who’s been shooting at us?”
“Another military assassin. I saw him in the market the other day and actually thought for a terrifying second it was the same man. They look an awful lot alike. Then I recognized the differences, and realized that I’d seen this man once on the main base, coming out of the general’s office. He’d been part of an elite unit of snipers just off a mission and his cold stare had freaked me out.” Seth shrugged. “I don’t know if he was sent by the general or by someone else in the military. He must not have been on base the day of the attack. I have no idea how he found me. Only—”
“It doesn’t make sense that neither one of us is dead.”
“Yeah. He’s toying with me and I don’t know why.” He shot her a look. “Everyone around me ends up dead.”
“Don’t you think the two of us, together, are strong enough to elude your assassin?”
“It doesn’t matter. Once we have enough power to make a call, we’re contacting your brother. He can pick you up, while I work out a deal to get the diamonds into the proper hands.”
She clutched at his arm. “No. Seth, please. I want you to take me to the concert. I want more time with you.”
He looked at her with regret. “I’m sorry, Kirra. I don’t have that kind of time.”
“This entire situation is a complete mess.” Wil shifted his satellite phone to his other ear. E
ach day Seth Jarrod remained at large was another day he might be killed, but Wil didn’t intend to let the guy die on his watch. He wanted the man to have a chance to tell his story to the CID team.
Of course, now Jarrod had not only Bureh’s rebels and the American assassin on his tail, but Sankoh’s men as well. Plus Dev and Rio. Yet somehow, with all of those groups in pursuit, Jarrod remained free.
“No wonder Kris has been going stir crazy if this is the kind of shit he’s had to deal with,” Wil muttered.
“Aye.” Lachlan agreed. “What are we going to do?”
That “we” was the reason Wil kept his association with WAR, despite the political dangers. Because the guys at WAR treated Wil and his team as a full partner. Unlike the American military establishment, who’d written off West Africa as a lost cause and would prefer to have Wil’s team fail, so they could justify eliminating them altogether.
Wil would take WAR’s assistance any day over the backstabbing and career-sensitive behaviors of too many of his recent overlords. One of these days everyone in command would wake up and realize that West Africa was on the brink of becoming the next Terrorism Central. Then, finally, Wil’s team would receive the backing it needed to do their job and fully protect the military bases and remaining diplomatic missions.
“Wil?” Lachlan prodded.
Crap. Wil rubbed between his eyes. He knew better than to let such thoughts crowd in while he was on a business call. If he wasn’t careful, he’d slip up when talking to someone in Washington and the consequences would be brutal.
Dammit, he wished Kris was here. He could use the other man’s strategic thinking right now. More importantly, Kris always knew how to talk him down off this ledge of anger, bitterness, and sheer frustration.
“I agree that it doesn’t make sense to continue to try and find Jarrod. There’s too much jungle for him to hide in,” Wil finally said. “Since it appears that he’s still heading north with Dev’s sister, tell Dev to stake out the concert venue. Maybe the girl can help Dev convince Jarrod to come in without a fight.”
“And if the rebels arrive on their heels?”
“I warned the concert organizers and the national government. Whether or not they’ll actually beef up security I can’t say. You’d likely know better than I. What does your wife say?”
“She said they’re talking to the government about having soldiers provide additional security. Obi says that the security team the concert organizers hired for their primary protection has a strong reputation. The employees are mostly former military men known for being both skilled and ethical. Else Helen wouldn’t be participating.”
“Good.” Obi was the only West African member of Lachlan’s team. While his official role was team sniper, he also provided much needed insight into West African life. Wil trusted his judgment. Not that the private security force was the weakest link. Both Lachlan and Wil knew that the greatest potential danger existed on the government’s side. Too many government operations had recently failed due to betrayals by soldiers sympathetic to the rebels.
“I wish I had the manpower to spare to assist,” Wil said. “But I can’t risk it. Not with the tight deadline we’re under.”
Lachlan grunted acknowledgment. “Understood. I’m hoping to wrap up our current mission early so that we’ll be able to provide support.”
Wil’s landline phone rang. “Gotta go. My contact has phoned in early.” He signed off with Lachlan and picked up the incoming call.
Forty minutes later, Special Agent Walton had confirmed Wil’s suspicions about Jarrod being the only witness to the attack on the base in Southeast Asia. She concluded with “So you see why we need Jarrod alive and well to testify.”
“Yeah, that’s not the part I’m having trouble with.” Wil made another note on his whiteboard. The investigators believed an army general was behind the attack. While following those leads, they’d discovered deposits that they’d traced back to hidden bank accounts that tied in to another investigation. “Tying the general into some global cabal bent on world destabilization is going to be difficult to prove. Not to mention risky.”
“No kidding. But I figure the best way to get to the heart of it is to spread the task around to as many people as possible.”
“Less chance of another successful coverup,” Wil agreed. “But how do you know you can trust me?”
Walton gave a disbelieving laugh. “What, haven’t you heard what they call you?”
“Uh, no.” Most of the terms used in Wil’s presence were derogatory comments regarding his lack of legs or snide suggestions about his possible sexual orientation.
“They call you the Marine Corps’ David. The lone fighter taking on the Goliath politicians in Washington to protect our men and women serving in West Africa.”
Wil opened his mouth, then closed it. Cleared his throat to dislodge the ball of emotion. “Ah. No. I’ve never heard anyone refer to me and my team using anything but pejoratives.”
“Well, in certain circles you’ve become a folk hero. I’d never trust you on that alone, but I’ve seen your records and talked to enough people to know you’re solid. And if we’re right, then you have a personal stake in this.”
“Yeah.” According to Walton, several highly ranked military men from around the world belonged to this global cabal. Confirming data Wil had seen in Rio’s reports. However, proving that the general in Southeast Asia, or Bogey One, were part of the cabal would be both difficult and potentially fatal. Men who intended to profit by selling arms and other equipment to all sides in the armed conflicts they’d instigated would not hesitate to kill a few lowly members of the military such as Wil and Special Agent Walton.
As much as Wil wanted to believe that he’d found another ally in his search for Bogey One, he couldn’t help but wonder if the special agent’s offer was a trap. Unable to completely trust her, Wil decided that for now he’d pretend to play along. “You know that my team is operating on limited resources and we’re currently on a tighter rein than ever?” he asked.
Personally, Wil had come to believe that the incident with the would-be bomber had been a setup aimed at discrediting him and shutting down his unit. But whoever had set it up—and Wil suspected the hand of Bogey One—hadn’t counted on the extensive documentation Wil’s team had created in their repeated requests for the equipment necessary to implement the security upgrades. Instead of a hostile observation team looking over his shoulder every step of the way, which was what he’d originally feared, Wil now only had to deal with the threat of a surprise inspection.
A slight difference, but he’d take it.
“Understood,” Walton said. “In any case, the first priority has to be bringing Jarrod in.”
“How confident are you that Jarrod will stay alive once we turn him over to the official delegation?” Wil had received notice that as soon as Jarrod was under Wil’s protection, a team of four members of CID and one lawyer would be sent to retrieve him.
“I give him a seventy-five percent chance of making it back to the States alive.” Something in the special agent’s voice made it clear she didn’t like those odds any better than Wil did.
He tapped the end of his marker against his whiteboard. “What about once he reaches the States?”
“General Baty, the new head of operations in Southeast Asia lost his nephew in the attack on the base. He was never satisfied with the investigation and has promised to fight tooth-and-nail to keep Jarrod alive for questioning. But if this cabal truly has members embedded in all aspects of our military, then Jarrod’s odds of survival aren’t much better once we have him.”
“You’re not making it easy for me to sell Jarrod on cooperating.”
“Sorry. You know better than anyone that even the tightest security isn’t infallible. And if what we suspect is correct, the cabal can’t afford to have Jarrod testify.”
“Right.” Which meant it was time for Wil to enlist the help of his brother, Max. Between the two of t
hem, they should be able to call in enough favors to locate a trustworthy team to protect Jarrod until he took the stand.
They spent the next couple of minutes hashing out the logistics of the handover. After he hung up, Wil snapped photos of the whiteboard, uploaded them to his private, secure server, then erased the notes from both the board and the camera. He couldn’t decide if finding out that Bogey One might be part of a larger conspiracy was an improvement, or just one more damn complication he didn’t need.
But one thing was for certain. He’d do everything in his power to make certain Jarrod had the chance to testify. Even if it meant Wil had to act as the man’s personal bodyguard all the way to the witness stand.
Chapter Thirty
“What do you mean, you’re running out of time?” Kirra demanded. Seth’s look of hopelessness tied her stomach up in knots.
He shrugged and glanced away. “I have an assassin after me. Either he’s going to stop playing around and kill me, or he’s waiting for backup to come and arrest me. Plus Sankoh and the rebels are pissed at how I’ve kept you out of their hands. Do you really think I have much of a life expectancy with that kind of opposition?”
She stared at him. “We’ve escaped all of them. Why are you acting as if suddenly our chances of survival are nil?”
“Not your chances, Kirra. Mine. Your brother will protect you. Not me.”
“He’ll protect you, too, if I ask him.”
Seth shook his head. “No. Trust me, he won’t.”
“But—”
Seth headed for the door. “The rain is lifting. I’m going to wash up, then we should hit the road. I don’t trust the guy who called me. He might be able to track us via my satellite phone.”
Kirra frowned as he disappeared down the passage. He cared for her, she knew he did. He even liked her. He’d trusted her enough to tell her about his past, yet he was still hiding something from her. Something dangerous enough that he remained convinced that the best way to protect her was to distance himself from her.