Lethal Memory (A Counterstrike Novel Book 2)

by Jannine Gallant

  “We don’t have enough intel yet.” Scarlet hooked a strand of long, red hair behind one ear. “I gave what details I have to Luna, and she’s doing her computer hacking magic, trying to ferret out whatever details she can.”

  “Who’s been kidnapped?” Noah tossed the book on the other end of the couch and focused his full attention on their coordinator, who worked directly with the friends and families of victims.

  “Riley Adair. She’s an associate professor at Trimountaine University, across the river in Cambridge. Apparently, someone broke into her campus lab about forty minutes ago. She texted one of her grad students in a panic, and he called the cops before contacting us. A fire was burning in the lab, so the fire department was also on the scene.”

  Footsteps approached as she finished speaking, and Wolf appeared in the doorway. His tall, broad frame filled most of the opening. “Sounds like there won’t be much evidence left to work with after all that activity.”

  Scarlet gave their team leader a quick smile. “The burn damage was minimal, but the scene was pretty well trashed.”

  “No ransom call yet?” Wolf stepped farther into the room.

  “No, and I’m not expecting one. According to Charles Brasher, the grad student who called me, Professor Adair has been working on a reversal for dementia for the past several years. Her research far outstripped anything else being done in the field, and she was close to going public with her findings.”

  Noah frowned. “Strange that I haven’t heard any rumors about trials. You’d think news that huge would be a hot topic in the medical community, even if she hadn’t made her research public yet.”

  “Charles said she’s kept her project very quiet, and the real breakthrough came pretty recently. Somehow word leaked out. Professor Adair’s text to him made it clear the kidnappers were after her files.”

  “Did they get them?” Wolf crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Not from what I can tell.” Luna brushed past him, her laptop tucked under one arm. “I just accessed the preliminary police report. The computer in her lab was wiped clean. Her house was also searched, and whoever did it tossed the place. My guess is the kidnappers wouldn’t have made such a mess if they’d found what they were looking for.”

  “They’ll try to pry that information out of the professor.” Noah’s stomach rolled. He knew what sort of tactics would likely be used to make the woman talk and couldn’t imagine she’d hold out long. Once she gave them the intel, they’d kill her.

  Wolf had apparently drawn the same conclusion. His pale blue eyes were sober. “We need to find her fast. Any idea who’s behind the kidnapping?”

  “There are a few big drug companies that will lose a fortune in prescription costs if she really has found a cure for dementia.” Luna glanced between the occupants of the room. “Or it could be someone who wants to take credit for her work, which will undoubtedly be worth millions.”

  “Any chatter on the dark web?” Wolf’s quiet tone revealed none of the tension practically radiating from him. “We need somewhere to start.”

  “I hacked into an email strand between the CEO of a pharma company and an unknown recipient that might be relevant.” She opened her laptop just as the doorbell rang. “I’m hoping the second party’s response, when it comes, will give us more information.”

  “That’ll be Charles Brasher.” Scarlet slid off the desk and headed toward the doorway. “Let’s hope he knows more than he’s already shared. Patch, do you want to come with me while I talk to him?”

  “Sure.” Rising to his feet, Noah gave his friend a nudge on the way past. “Better me than Wolf since his sheer size intimidates people.”

  “Which is why I leave conversations with the friends and loved ones of victims to others. In the meantime, I’ll call Sparrow to be on standby with the chopper.”

  “That works.” Noah followed Scarlet from the room and used his phone to pull up the camera feed from the front of the building. A twenty-something man with a ponytail and round, wire-rimmed glasses stood on the stoop, his hands shoved into the pockets of jeans that hung on his tall, thin frame.

  “Does he have on a green jacket and glasses?” Scarlet asked.

  Noah nodded.

  “Then it’s Brasher.” She unlocked the door and swung it wide. “Come on in, Charles. I’m Scarlet. We spoke on the phone earlier.”

  “Thank you for meeting with me. I’m freaking out. I can’t believe someone grabbed Riley. She—” He stopped speaking and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “This shouldn’t have happened. I should have been at the lab to—” He waved one hand in a jerky movement. “I don’t know what I could have done, but she shouldn’t have been there alone.”

  “Had you been at the lab with her, you probably would have been killed.” Noah spoke frankly as he assessed the man’s state of mind. His eyes were wide with fear or shock—probably both. “We’ll find Professor Adair and bring her back. That’s what we do and why you called us.”

  Scarlet took Brasher’s elbow and led him toward a sitting room with comfortable couches and chairs, then gestured for him to take a seat. “This is Patch. He’s our team medic. What do you know about the abduction?”

  “Not much more than I already told you. Riley texted me that someone was breaking into the lab to get her data and to call the police.”

  “Why did she call you instead of 9-1-1?” Noah asked.

  Brasher hunched one shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe she thought it would be faster. My uncle is a detective, but he wasn’t on duty this evening. I called him immediately, and he reported it. He’s the one who suggested I contact Counterstrike. He knew a family who used your agency, and they got their daughter back.”

  “You’re familiar with the professor’s research?” Scarlet leaned forward, her gray eyes focused on the man clenching and unclenching his fists where they rested on his thighs. “Do you know who might want to steal it?”

  Charles snorted. “Only dozens of other scientists who are still in the trial and error stage. Riley will get a Nobel Prize for her work.” His knuckles whitened before he spread his palms flat on the threadbare denim of his jeans. “The thing is, I don’t know much about her latest breakthrough. She said she wasn’t ready to share her findings yet.”

  “Any particular lab that might have been closer to a solution than the others?” Noah studied the man, wondering why he was so fidgety. Not the usual reaction clients desperate to locate a kidnapping victim displayed.

  Brasher’s gaze slid away, and the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed again. “Rumor has it, MIT is getting close to a solution, but that could be wishful thinking on their part. I’m sorry I’m not more help.”

  “What about threats?” Scarlet asked. “Has your boss been on edge recently or appeared frightened?”

  “She certainly didn’t mention anything untoward to me, but her entire focus outside of her teaching duties has been on her lab work.” His lips tightened into a thin line. “We work closely together, but . . . well, we don’t discuss anything that isn’t related to our project. Still, I didn’t get the feeling she was afraid of anyone.”

  Noah wasn’t sure if the hint of resentment was because he felt shut out professionally, or if he had a more personal interest in the professor. “Does she have family or close friends nearby she might have confided in if she was worried or frightened?”

  “Her grandfather lives in a care facility here in Boston, but even if she told him something—and I can’t imagine she would have—he wouldn’t remember. The man has Alzheimer’s. Riley’s never mentioned any other family.”

  “Friends or maybe someone she’s dating?” Noah pushed a little harder.

  “She works so much, she doesn’t have time for a social life, at least not recently. An old college friend stops by now and then. I think they’re close.”

  “Her name?” Scarlet pulled out her phone.

  “Becca something. Swan.” Brasher scrunched up his brow. “No, Swain
. I think she lives in one of the bedroom communities outside Boston.”

  Scarlet tapped the information into her phone. “We’ll reach out to her.”

  “I don’t know anything more to tell you. About your fee . . . I’m barely managing on my grant, but Riley lives in an upscale neighborhood. I think she has money—”

  “That won’t be an issue since our organization is privately funded.” Scarlet rose to her feet. “Thanks for coming straight over, Charles. We’ll let you know once we’ve located Professor Adair.”

  “I appreciate that.” He stood, and swayed slightly. “Riley’s pretty great, and her work . . . well, you have to find her.”

  “We intend to. Right this way.” Noah led the other man out of the room and through the entry. A moment later he shut the door behind the grad student and rejoined his colleagues.

  Luna looked up from her computer. “I think I have something.”

  Relief filled him, and he let out a breath. “Good, because we didn’t get shit from Brasher.”

  “Flight plans were filed from a small airport about twenty minutes from here. The plane is on standby. I doubt you have long to reach her.”

  “Taking the chopper will cut that time in half.” Wolf met Noah’s gaze. “Ready Patch? Let’s move.”

  Chapter Two

  Consciousness returned slowly. The floor beneath her was hard, the room pitch-black. Minutes ticked by while her fuzzy brain tried to piece together what had happened. Where she was. The excruciating pain made thinking nearly impossible. She searched her cobbled mind for any hint of recognition. And failed.

  A gash at her temple oozed blood that ran into her ear. The sticky wetness was a minor irritant considering her entire body felt like it had been run over by a tractor.

  Why a tractor and not a truck? Or a bus?

  Her mind couldn’t grapple with the question when her knee was on fire, swollen and throbbing. The pain was almost as intense as the pounding in her head.

  Footsteps grew closer before the door to the windowless space opened. A flash of bright daylight nearly blinded her sensory-deprived eyes. She cringed against the straw mat covering the cold cement floor as a man loomed over her.

  “Have you had enough yet, professor, or would you like me to blacken your other eye?” He leaned closer. “How about I break a few fingers? If you’re smart, you’ll quit playing games and tell us what we want to know.”

  Why did he call me professor?

  As her vision adjusted, hazel eyes, bright with a hint of excitement, swam into focus. He likes hurting me. The knowledge came with a shudder that rattled her teeth. She’d say anything to stop this agony.

  Except her mind was empty.

  “Where did you hide the damn backup drive? Such a simple answer. Is your silence really worth compounding your suffering? Because I guarantee what I intend to do to you next will make what you’ve already endured seem like a day at the beach.” He slid a knife out of the sheath hanging from his belt and held it up. Sunlight flashed off the polished blade.

  Her heart thumped so hard she could barely breathe. Backup drive? What the hell was he talking about?

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice came out in a croak, and the words sounded garbled. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her chest constricted painfully as she coughed. “Water. Please.”

  “I’ll give you a drink if you tell me where to find your research files.”

  “What files? I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t act stupid, bitch!”

  “Are you sure she’s acting?” A second man, this one shorter and at least twenty years older than the first, appeared in the doorway. “You messed her up pretty good the last time you questioned her. She’s been unconscious for a few hours.”

  “I barely hit her.”

  The older man snorted. “That blow would have knocked out a freaking elephant. If you’ve damaged her permanently . . .”

  The voices went on and on but couldn’t compete with the roaring in her head as panic took hold.

  “What’s my name?” She pushed herself up off the floor with shaking arms. “I can’t remember my name!”

  “Is this really how you want to play it?”

  The older man grabbed his partner’s raised fist, elbowed him out of the way, and bent close to her face. A whiff of garlic made her rear back. “Look, lady. All we care about is your cure. Tell us where you stashed your dementia research, and we’ll let you go.”

  “My name? What’s my name?” Her panicked shout echoed in the small space.

  “Jesus Christ. It’s Riley Adair.” He took a step backward. “If you’d simply tell us . . .”

  His voice became nothing more than an annoying buzz as her arms gave out, and she collapsed onto the ground. The name whirled around in her brain. Riley Adair. Nothing about it sounded familiar.

  “What the hell? You aren’t buying into this crap, are you? She’s playing us.” Her tormentor reached down and grabbed her by the hair. Dark brown strands wrapped around his fingers as he jerked her head up. “Don’t pretend you don’t know who the hell you are.”

  Her scalped burned as he tugged harder.

  I’m a brunette. She couldn’t picture her own face. Had no idea if her eyes were blue or green or brown. She stared at her hand. The skin was pale, like she didn’t get a lot of sun. One knuckle was swollen to a grotesque size.

  Tears ran down her cheeks, and the salt burned in a cut along her jaw. “I’d tell you if I could, but I don’t know anything about dementia research.” A sob wrenched from her throat. “I can’t remember anything!”

  “Leave her!” The second man spoke sharply. “I doubt she’s that good an actress.”

  Riley fell against the mat when he released his hold on her hair. She let out a sharp cry as her head smacked the hard surface. Curling into a fetal position, she searched her mind for some shred of memory. Anything that would offer a glimpse into her life.

  “Maybe if we give her some food and water she’ll—”

  The door slammed shut, leaving her in the dark. A lock clicked. She was a prisoner in an unknown place. Injured. Helpless. Alone.

  A cure for dementia . . . The idea seemed unlikely. Was she a scientist? A doctor? Her brain was a giant black hole that had swallowed her identity. Her memories.

  Out of the void, a face flashed through her mind. Skin tanned to a leathery consistency. Blue eyes that sparkled with humor. A battered straw hat covering a head she somehow knew was balding. No name was connected to the face, but she held fiercely to the image, refusing to let it go. Somewhere, someone cared that she was missing. She couldn’t believe anything else. If she did, she’d lose her mind completely.

  * * * *

  Noah crouched low behind a thicket of bushes at the edge of the woods. The old manor house stood on a slight rise, illuminated in the moonlight. A treelined driveway led up from the country road where they’d left their transport, ending in a circle in front of a three-car garage to the left of the house. Some sort of shed was located a short distance behind it. At this time of night, nothing moved except a small fox that darted across the lawn, caught in the glare of the light activated by a motion detector before it disappeared into the trees.

  He wondered where the assholes who’d abducted Riley Adair had stashed her. It had taken the Counterstrike team nearly forty-eight hours to locate this estate in rural Georgia after they’d failed to intercept the kidnappers at the airstrip. Two days of knowing a helpless woman was probably being tortured had worn on his nerves. He just prayed she was still alive.

  “Luna and I will take the garage. Patch, you check the shed.” Wolf’s voice came through Noah’s earpiece. “If she’s not in either building, we’ll breach the house. GQ, find a perch overhead to cover us. Let me know when you’re in position.”

  “10-4. Give me a minute.” The response from their point man was immediate.

  The landscape didn’t offer much in the way of shelter, just a
scattering of giant magnolia trees between their current location on the edge of the forest and the outbuildings. Even with a sniper for backup, the risk of getting picked off was high if anyone in the house stood guard.

  Then again, their job came with high-risk factors nearly one hundred percent of the time.

  The pack on his back where his medical supplies were stored shifted as he rose to his feet. Adjusting it, he laid a hand on the butt of the Glock holstered at his side. Taking slow, even breaths, he prepared for the sprint across the lawn to the shed. Dressed all in black with camouflage paint darkening their faces, his teammates were invisible in the dark, but he knew they were close by.

  “I’m in position.” GQ spoke quietly. “No sign of movement in the house.”

  “Copy that,” Wolf responded. “Move on three, two, one . . .”

  Noah broke through the cover and sprinted full out, running in an irregular zig-zag pattern. No reason to make himself an easy target. His feet flew across the lush grass until he hit the gravel path leading to the shed. He stopped at the side of the building, his breathing slightly accelerated, to assess the situation. A single door. No windows. A heavy padlock through a hasp held the door shut.

  Staying in the shadows, he approached the door to check the lock before pulling the proper tools from the pouch at his waist. After a few seconds of manipulation with the thin picks, the mechanism clicked. He slid the lock from the hasp and opened the door a crack. Using a penlight, he flashed the beam around the interior. A slight figure lay curled in a ball on a mat in the corner.

  “No more. Please, no more.” The plea was muffled by the arm covering her face.

  “I’ve found her.” He spoke into his mouthpiece before kneeling beside the woman. “It’s okay, Riley. I’m here to take you home.”

  She surged upward and lashed out, striking him in the chest with her fist. “No. No. No. Leave me alone!”

  He caught her arm in a gentle hold and didn’t let go, even though she fought against him like a woman possessed. When he grabbed her other hand, she let out a ragged cry.