by T. K. Leigh
The line rang several times, but Martin didn’t pick up. A knot formed in his stomach, but he couldn’t dwell on it, not when finding his daughter was within his grasp.
Approaching the conference room where a handful of agents pored over piles of papers, Alexander stormed in. “All of you, gear up. Let’s go.”
Without questioning it, they jumped into action, grabbing their jackets and checking their pistols before holstering them.
Alexander hurried out of the office and into the elevator, his agents following closely behind.
“What’s going on, sir?” one of them asked.
“We have a possible location,” Alexander answered. “Warehouse on Morrissey Boulevard near the JFK/UMass red line station. Two of you will come with me. The rest of you will be in a separate vehicle. We don’t want to do anything to raise suspicion. No one makes a move until I say so. There’s no telling what this guy is capable of.”
“Sir,” the agents said in unison.
Once the elevator arrived in the garage, they all filed out and into two separate company SUVs, Alexander at the wheel of one. Peeling out of the garage, he merged onto the empty streets of Boston, snow beginning to cover the pavement.
“What’s the plan once we get there, sir?” one of the agents asked.
Alexander glanced at the man sitting in the passenger seat. He thought his name was Andrews or something like that, but couldn’t be sure. He hated the idea of working with a team he wasn’t familiar with. He picked up his phone and tried Martin again, still not getting a response.
“Sir?” Andrews repeated.
Alexander tapped the steering wheel, scanning the streets. There were only a few cars on the road, most likely people running last-minute errands before the city shut down because of the storm. The truth was, he didn’t know what they should do when they got there. He ran through a thousand different scenarios regarding what he was about to walk into. He had absolutely no idea what to expect, who was behind it. He hated the thought of walking into the unknown with a group of complete strangers, more or less, without someone he trusted.
“I don’t know yet.”
Pulling onto the interstate, he continued to glance at his phone every few seconds, hoping to see a message or incoming call from Martin. It wasn’t like him to not answer. Hell, he could call him in the middle of the night and he’d still pick up. His gut told him something was off, so he grabbed his phone and dialed Simpson.
“Burnham here,” he barked into the phone when he answered. “Run a trace on Martin’s phone and his company SUV. See if you can get a location for me. He’s not answering his cell.”
“Copy,” Simpson said. Alexander could hear him typing in the background. “It’ll take a minute or two to come back, sir. In the meantime, I wanted to let you know I did some digging on Maleek Abdar.”
“Anything come back?”
“Surprisingly, yes. Turns out, that’s not his real name. Up until five years ago, Maleek Abdar didn’t exist. No paper trail. No hospital records. Nothing. I didn’t think it too strange, considering it is Afghanistan, but I ran his face through facial recognition on the off-chance I got a hit. I was surprised when one came back. Maleek was arrested five years ago for assault. Back then, his name was Aazar Faraj.”
“Faraj?” Alexander repeated.
“Turns out Aazar Faraj is the younger brother of Aliyah Faraj, one of your contacts at the Ministry of Women’s Affairs.”
Shaking his head, Alexander furrowed his brow. “You don’t think she used her position in the ministry to gain access to these girls’ location, do you? Why would she put her life on the line to protect these women if she was involved?”
“Perhaps she’s not, sir. Perhaps her brother used her access without her knowledge. According to information I was able to pull up about Ms. Faraj, she’s spoken publicly about her brother disappearing from the jail where he was being held after he was arrested. The family had no knowledge of what happened to him until a few years later when he reappeared in some propaganda video for an extremist group.”
Alexander nodded. It was a story he had heard time and time again. Extremists preying on those most vulnerable to further their twisted mission.
“You said it was five years ago?”
“Yes,” Simpson answered. “According to my records, Ms. Faraj had already been with the ministry for several years at that point. My guess is someone in the Union targeted Maleek, or Aazar, because of his connection to Aliyah, figuring they could use that to their advantage.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alexander tried to absorb this new information. “Right. Well, we can’t be sure she’s not involved in some way. I’ll try to get in touch with her to feel her out, but right now, I’m just a few blocks from the warehouse…” He trailed off, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of his stomach as he sped past the JFK/UMass train station and came to a stop just short of the warehouse. He swallowed hard, not wanting to believe what he saw.
“Oh, here we go, sir,” Simpson said. “It appears Martin’s SUV is—”
“At the warehouse,” Alexander answered. “Have you spoken to him and told him where I was going?”
“No, sir,” he responded gravely. “I haven’t made contact with him at all.”
Alexander’s shoulders slumped forward as he put the SUV into park. “That’s what I was afraid of. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on Olivia. Find out where she is and make sure she’s okay.”
Alexander hung up and opened the car door, jumping onto the street. He was torn between wanting to make sure nothing had happened to Olivia and wanting to know why Martin’s SUV was suspiciously parked in front of the warehouse where he believed Melanie was being held. He tried not to worry about Olivia. He couldn’t, not when he was so close to holding his daughter.
He ran to the back of his SUV and opened the hatch, unlocking a large chest containing a small arsenal of weapons. Grabbing a shotgun, he gestured for his agents to follow as he ran up the street toward the warehouse. He was flying by the seat of his pants. He had no plan, curiosity forcing him forward. Why was Martin’s SUV here? Did Martin figure it out before he did? Or was he really involved from the beginning, like Moretti suspected? And where was Olivia?
Slowing to a stop outside a metal door, he held up his hand at the team of agents following him, signaling them to keep back. He brought his hand to the knob, expecting it to be locked. Instead, as he slowly turned it, the door creaked open. Adrenaline coursing through him, he looked at his agents, gesturing with his hands in which direction each pair was to go once they breached. They nodded in understanding. Alexander held up a finger, mouthing, One, two, three, then pushed the door wide.
They poured into the warehouse on nimble feet, two agents going left, two agents going right, Alexander and another agent pushing straight ahead toward the light. The huge space in front of them was filled with row after row of empty shelving racks. Keeping his gun raised, he headed down one row, constantly checking behind him for any sign of movement. He felt like a sitting duck with a target on his back, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to push further. He needed answers. He needed to find his daughter.
Reaching the end of the aisle, he met up with the rest of the agents, all of them shaking their heads to indicate they hadn’t found anything. A hand tapped his shoulder. When he looked at one of the agents, the man gestured behind Alexander toward a set of metal steps leading up to a loft, a lone lamp hanging from the ceiling.
Alexander turned toward the stairs, motioning for the rest of the team to stay where they were for the time being. His heart in his throat, he climbed the stairs, trying to subdue the sound of his shoes against the metal. Stepping onto the landing, his eyes fell on a chair beneath the lamp, a figure holding an open laptop strapped to it, bruises and cuts marring his face, arms, and hands.
When Alexander rushed toward him, the man’s eyes grew wide in fear, moaning through his taped mouth. He halted in his tracks. He had spent th
e last few decades working beside Martin. When he indicated not to take another step, Alexander knew he needed to follow his command, no matter how difficult it was for him to see his colleague and friend so helpless and vulnerable, absolute horror etched in his eyes.
“You thought you could outsmart me?” a distorted voice cut through.
Alexander shot his eyes to the laptop, a video feed of a house he knew all too well on the screen. A line of men dressed in black with their faces covered, except for their eyes, stood against a set of bay windows. He didn’t know how it happened, but they had found one of his safe houses.
“What are you talking about? What do you want from me?”
“If I were you, I’d choose my words very wisely, Mr. Burnham.”
The camera panned down, showing a line of five girls on their knees.
“No!” he bellowed when he noticed two people who shouldn’t have been at that safe house…Olivia and Melanie. He shook his head, trying to fight off the lightheaded feeling washing over him.
“I’ll always be one step ahead of you, Mr. Burnham,” the voice said, becoming clearer and more feminine. Then a figure came into focus.
“Aliyah,” he muttered through a clenched jaw. When Simpson told him of Aliyah’s relationship to Maleek, he couldn’t think of any reason she would be involved, not after everything she had done for him and his company to help keep those girls safe. None of this made sense. “How…?”
“How what? How could I do everything within my power to uphold the traditions you westerners don’t agree with? These women brought dishonor on their families. It’s my job to make it right.” She approached one of the women and held a gun to her head.
His stomach rolled when he noticed she held a baby in her arms. From Olivia’s stories, he knew exactly who this woman was…Selena.
“No, please,” she begged, tears streaming down her face as she knelt on the floor, clutching the baby to her, trying to shield her son from what was going on. But he knew, his cries becoming loud and desperate. Closing her eyes, she kissed the baby’s forehead, then glanced at the woman to her left. Olivia. “Please, don’t kill me,” she begged, looking back at Aliyah.
“Oh, shut up!” Aliyah barked, her tone cold.
Without blinking, she pulled the trigger. Selena’s body slumped forward. Olivia reacted quickly, grabbing the baby, as the other women screamed and cried. She stared straight into the camera, trying to soothe the baby.
During his time as a SEAL, Alexander had been through countless situations where his life was on the line. He had seen more horrific things than most people could even fathom. But this, watching a woman, a mother, lose her life in front of her own small son… This was more than he could bear.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Melanie’s trembling body as she held the hand of one of the women. It broke him just thinking about what she had witnessed. Parents are supposed to shield their children from the horrors of the world, but Melanie was witnessing some of the worst of the human race with her own two young eyes.
“What do you want?” Alexander hissed, his nostrils flaring.
“You know exactly what I want,” she replied. “And every hour that passes that you don’t bring the rest of the women your wife took from me, I’ll kill one more girl. Who should be next? Your darling wife?” She smiled maliciously. “Or your daughter?” She grabbed Melanie, dragging her in front of the camera, holding a gun to her temple. Her little screams and cries forced an unbearable ache to pierce his heart.
“No!” he shouted. “Don’t you dare hurt her!” His nerves were shot. He was in a vacuum. The only thing that mattered was getting Melanie back home safe and never letting her out of his sight again.
“Tick-tock, Mr. Burnham. Speaking of which, you might want to watch where you step.”
Alexander’s eyes widened as he looked at Martin bound to a simple metal chair, tape across his mouth. He glanced down at his feet and took a step back, noticing a plate beneath the chair. Releasing a breath, he met Martin’s forlorn eyes, then looked back at the laptop.
“Guess you figured it out, huh? That’s a pressure plate, but we’ve wired it to work in reverse. The second the weight shifts where dear old Martin is sitting, and I mean anything that causes him to shift in that chair at all…” A malicious smile crossed her red lips. “Boom.”
The video cut out. Alexander simply stared at the laptop, wishing this were all just a nightmare he was about to wake up from at any minute.
“Boss?” one of the agents said, climbing the stairs and stepping onto the landing. “What do you want us to do?”
“Stay back,” Alexander ordered. “Get out of here and go back to the cars. Call the bomb squad. Get in touch with Agent Moretti of the FBI. He should be at a crime scene right around the corner from here.”
“Sir,” he said, then rushed down the stairs.
Careful about where he stepped, Alexander reached for the tape and ripped it off Martin’s mouth, holding his breath.
“Get out of here,” Martin said firmly, sweat beading on his brow. Alexander met his gaze. “This won’t end well and you know it, Alex.”
“We’ll get someone up here to defuse it. It’ll be okay,” Alexander said, frantic.
“I’m not your priority right now. Olivia and your daughter are. So are all those women.”
“But—”
“Go, Alex. I don’t know how much longer I can sit perfectly still.” A look of peace fell over his face as he cracked a small smile, at complete odds with the stoic man who had been at Alexander’s side since the day he took over the company. “I’m an old man. I’ve lived my life. I don’t have a wife or a daughter to make it home for. You do.”
“But my mom…”
“Will understand.”
Alexander shook his head, swallowing through the lump in his throat. He refused to believe this man was willing to give up so easily.
“Alex, stop being stubborn and get the hell out of here. I didn’t do everything I should have to protect your father from getting killed on a job. I won’t make the same mistake with you. So go. Now. That daughter of yours is counting on you.”
He pulled his lip between his teeth, glancing between the stairs and Martin. He hated not being there for him when he needed him most, like he should have been for Landon.
Like he should be for Melanie right now.
Alexander met his eyes and paused for a moment. There was so much he wanted to say to him. Not a day had gone by over the past several decades that he didn’t speak to Martin at least once. He couldn’t imagine doing his job without him. He wasn’t just his assistant, his right-hand man. He was his mentor, his advisor, the man he looked up to.
He was family.
“Uncle Leroy, I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to put his feelings into words.
A calmness fell over Martin’s face. “I know, son.”
With a heaviness in his heart, Alexander turned toward the stairs, aware that time was not his friend.
“Alex?”
“Yes?” He faced him, hopeful he had some brilliant idea that would get him out of this.
“Don’t make the same mistake I’ve made, that your father made. Family first. Always.”
Blinking back his tears, he replied, “Always.”
Martin took an unsteady breath. “And tell your mom I love her. I should have told her that every day.” His voice wavered and Alexander knew… He wasn’t expecting to make it out of this.
“I’ll let you tell her yourself,” he choked out, giving him a comforting smile, then ran down the stairs, taking breath after breath to settle the tears that wanted to fall. Dashing out of the warehouse, he continued down the block, past an FBI perimeter that had been set up, and toward his parked SUV.
“What’s going on here?” Moretti bellowed, running up to him. “Your men said there’s someone strapped to a bomb?” He raised his eyebrows.
Alexander opened his mouth to tell him exactly what was going o
n just as the sound of a blast filled the air. Instinctively, everyone threw their bodies onto the ground and covered their heads. Shrapnel falling onto the pavement echoed in the distance as Alexander looked over his shoulder. He expected to see flames billowing out of the windows. Instead, there was just a little smoke, the result of a small, targeted blast. This bomb wasn’t intended to do mass damage. It was just to send a message.
Alexander sprang to his feet and dashed to his SUV, racing against time.
“Where are you going?” Moretti called after him.
Stopping outside the SUV, Alexander met his confused eyes, holding his gaze. “To get my daughter and wife back,” he replied, trying not to allow Martin’s death to consume him. He had to stay focused on the mission. He couldn’t let the sacrifice he just made be for nothing. He needed Martin’s death to mean something.
Just as Moretti opened his mouth to most likely berate him for interfering with a federal investigation, Alexander asked, “Aren’t you coming?”
Grinning mischievously, Moretti jumped into the passenger seat of Alexander’s SUV.
“Are we good?” Alexander asked, glancing at Moretti. “I mean, with me following up on a lead and not telling you?”
“Yeah. We’re good,” Moretti replied. “I get it. Sometimes you need to take justice into your own hands.” He gave him a knowing look, gripping onto the door handle as Alexander sped off.
Chapter Thirty-Five
December 20
4:15 PM
WITH SHAKY HANDS, OLIVIA brought the baby closer to her chest, trying to keep him from looking at his mother lying in a pool of her own blood. He cried louder. She wanted to cry with him, but she couldn’t. She needed to keep it together, needed to stay strong for this sweet, innocent child in her arms and her own daughter trembling beside her. They didn’t deserve to be exposed to the cruelties of this world at such a young age.
“Shh.” She patted his bottom, soothing him. Her heart broke as she listened to his little cries. He had no idea what was going on. All he knew was he wanted his mommy, not some complete stranger. “It’s okay, Landon,” she whispered. “I’ll take care of you. You’re going to be okay.”