“That’s cute.” Paul laughs as he walks back through the door with something in his hand.
It looks like a white pole about two feet long with a gripped handle and a rectangular box about a quarter of the way down. He’d said hitting me with his hands was too hard on him, so he clearly got something to assist. Tears prick my eyes as I wonder just how strong I can be once he starts.
“Now,” Paul drawls as he stands before me, holding the pole loosely in one hand. “I’m going to ask you nicely to tell me all your secrets just one more time.”
I don’t reply, forcing myself to look him in the eye as a means of clear but silent defiance.
Sighing, Paul gives a careless shrug. “Oh, well.”
He raises the pole, and I can’t help but brace against what I’m assuming is going to be a bone-jarring blow somewhere on my body. To my surprise, though, he merely places the end of it against my thigh.
I have only a moment of confusion, wondering what in the hell he’s doing, when a sizzling pain shoots up and down my leg, then into my lower back and stomach. Shrieking from surprise and because it’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt in my life, I try to jerk my body away from it.
It lasts only a second or two before Paul pulls the rod away. He grins, holding it up before his face, and I can now see the end is forked with metal probes on the bottom.
“Genius little contraption,” he murmurs, almost proudly. “It’s a cattle prod, but this one has been upgraded a bit. In fact, you’re getting almost four times the usual juice by virtue of this little booster here.”
He taps the rectangular box and I’ll admit, the energy scientist part of me is curious. I’d like to know just how many volts I just took because that hurt more than I can even describe.
“Now,” he says ominously. “I only touched you with that for a few seconds, but I’m going to hold it to you a lot longer each time you don’t talk. If we’re not careful, your flesh is going to start cooking. So why don’t you just do yourself a favor and tell me what I want to know.”
He’s fucking sadistic to the core, clearly enjoying this new form of torture. He could probably break a few bones of mine to make me start spilling everything, but he wants this to go on for no other reason than he enjoys it.
Paul stares, one eyebrow rising just a tad. “Are you scared? Want to talk?”
I give a tiny shake of my head, knowing I’m getting ready to be tested like very few are ever tested in their lifetime. I hope to God I’m strong enough to take it.
CHAPTER 22
Cruce
“You had better not fuck this up,” I warn Carnes as he sits in a chair with his hands cuffed in front of him. Although he’s as far away from a flight risk as I can imagine, the FBI are not taking any chances and are running things by the book.
For the past hour, Kynan has been working with Carnes on what to say to Scavino. It’s taken this long because Carnes is a nervous wreck.
It’s why Kynan shoots me an exasperated look for threatening the man when he’s trying to get him to calm down.
“We’re ready to wire him,” one of the FBI agents says.
We’re in a private conference room in the West Wing that’s been commandeered as a base of operations. The president has gone back to the Oval Office to attend to his duties, but we’re under strict orders to notify him before Carnes goes into Scavino’s office so he can be present to listen in on the wire.
Probably the best thing he did before he left was sit down and talk with Carnes. He spoke to him like a father to a son, like he was disappointed in some stupid stunt Carnes had pulled. He even put his hand on his shoulder, imploringly telling Carnes the best way he could fix everything was to do whatever it took to help save Barrett’s life. I could tell Alexander wasn’t sincere in this exaggerated, fatherly type concern just as I could tell Carnes really had no clue Barrett’s life was in danger. He’d admitted he knew she’d be kidnapped, but Scavino had assured him it was only to get her formula and she’d be released safely afterward.
The guy is a fucking moron for believing that, but I do trust he’s been honest with us so far. Which is good because it’s probably our best chance to locate Barrett as quickly as possible.
Within this room, there are several FBI agents, a federal prosecutor, and some of the Jameson crew who has assembled for a rescue operation. Cage and Saint are here from the Pittsburgh office. Kynan ordered Benji Darden and Tank Richardson to put a crew together to stay on standby in Vegas in case Barrett wasn’t on the East Coast. The FBI has a unit standing by in Los Angeles as well.
Regardless, we have a sanctioned FBI crew going in with us as backup here from D.C., and I’m praying to God she’s close by. Everyone is gearing up while Bebe multitasks on two computers. She’s working on hacking Scavino’s records while also setting up the back end of the wiretap for the Scavino Sting.
That’s what we’re calling it anyway.
I’d have preferred to send Carnes in there an hour ago when I came up with this idea, but not only did Carnes need prepped, Bebe also had to get everything set up exactly right. She has to not only monitor what Scavino does, but she also needs to intercept any outgoing calls he might make. She’s in a delicate position of needing to identify the person Scavino will call if Carnes can spook him appropriately, pinging the physical location, then stopping the call from actually connecting. If Scavino alerts the person he calls that their operation is in jeopardy, they’re going to have plenty of time to kill Barrett and dispose of her body.
This will all boil down to just how good Bebe’s skills are, then it will be up to Jameson to move in for the rescue. I only hope to fuck Barrett’s somewhere close by because while she’s alive only as long as she keeps a hold of her secrets, every minute that ticks by puts her more at risk of giving in. The thought of her being exposed to all means of vile torture techniques has kept my stomach locked in a painful clench and my chest aching with sadness.
I can’t lose her.
“Deep thoughts you got going on there, brother?” Saint asks as he comes up to my side, clapping a hand on my shoulder. I give a last glance at Carnes as an FBI agent removes the cuffs so they can start to wire him up to listen in on his conversation with Scavino.
I shrug with a nonchalance I don’t feel at all. “Just worried about the timing of all this. Bebe can’t let that call connect. And I hope to fuck Barrett’s close by so we can move fast to rescue her.”
“We?” he asks with his eyebrows rising.
“Yeah… we,” I reply emphatically.
“You were just shot,” he says with quiet concern. “I think it’s best—”
“—for you to keep your fucking mouth shut,” I growl. “I’m going, and that’s that.”
Saint knows when to back down from an unwinnable fight. Smiling, he raises his hands up in surrender. “Understood. But you’re taking this very personally.”
“Barrett was under my watch,” I say. “Of course it’s personal.”
“Shouldn’t be that personal,” he points out.
“What do you mean?”
Saint moves in a bit closer, lowering his voice. “I’m just saying… you look more than a little worried. In fact, you don’t look good at all. I’m thinking that’s got little to do with your gunshot wounds and everything to do with a brainy, sexy scientist.”
I blink in surprise. How can he tell there’s something deeper in my underlying concern? I felt like I’d been keeping things pretty close to the vest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter. And wait a minute… had he just called Barrett “sexy”? What the fuck?
I glare, but he’s not buying it. In fact, he smiles in a way that tells me he understands more than I’d ever give him credit for.
“You fell for her, didn’t you?” he murmurs.
I want to scream in denial, but I can’t. Why would I ever deny someone as amazing and wonderful as Barrett?
“Yeah… I fell for her,” I admi
t, rubbing hard at the back of my neck. Then I glance over at Kynan where he watches Carnes as he’s wired up. “Think he knows?”
Saint grins. “Oh yeah… it’s pretty obvious.”
“I’ll hand in my resignation after we rescue Barrett,” I mutter, knowing there will be consequences.
Pulling his chin inward, Saint asks, “Whatever the fuck for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I frown. “I fraternized with a client.”
Saint snorts. “First… if what you were doing was ‘fraternizing,’ then dude… you got to work on your moves. Second… did it compromise Barrett’s safety?”
“No,” I admit. “If anything, I gave it more effort, and it pisses me off it still wasn’t good enough. I let her get taken on my watch, and I’m not sure if I even deserve her.”
“Well, that’s something between the two of you. I suggest we rescue her first, then you can worry about that.”
“Agreed,” I reply stiffly, putting my head back in game mode.
“We’re ready,” Kynan says as Carnes stands from his chair. He looks like he’s about to throw up. Kynan turns to one of the Secret Service agents. “Can you get the president?”
The agent nods in acknowledgment, pivots on his heel, and leaves.
Kynan moves to stand in front of Carnes, dipping his head to get closer to him. “You good on how to play this?”
Carnes swallows hard and nods.
“Good. You do this right and help us recover Barrett safely, and that will go a long way to help you out of this shirt storm you’ve landed yourself in.”
Carnes nods again.
Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck what happens to him after this. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
“Let’s do it, then,” Kynan says, giving Carnes a tiny shove toward the door.
♦
Carnes is in Scavino’s office, waiting patiently for him to finish a phone call. We stationed four FBI agents outside the office, prepared to swoop in and arrest him as soon as the call connects. It could happen within seconds of Carnes leaving or it might never happen. It’s a risk we’re taking with this path, but Bebe’s also working hard on Scavino’s accounts, so hopefully something will pan out there if this doesn’t work.
The rest of the agents and the Jameson crew are still in the conference room, gathered around some hi-def speakers to listen in. Bebe is poised over her laptop, fingers ready to do whatever magic she needs to identify and intercept the call we hope Scavino will make.
We all go on high alert when Scavino’s voice comes across the speaker, wrapping up his phone call. We can’t see what’s going on, but based on Scavino’s tone of impatience, I can imagine he’s frowning across his desk at Carnes.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Carnes?” Scavino asks briskly, making it clear he doesn’t really have the time.
“I think they’re on to us,” Carnes says, and his voice is high pitched and squeaky. He sounds incredibly nervous, but that actually works in this case.
“On to us?” Scavino replies vaguely.
As instructed, Carnes doesn’t withhold details, making it clear exactly what’s at stake since we’re recording this. “I just had a meeting with some attorneys at DOJ. They’re investigating what they term as ‘suspicious’ activity on the West Wing servers, and they wanted to examine my computer.”
“Did you let them?” Scavino asks, his tone now harsh but concerned. No one wants the Department of Justice sniffing around illegal, treasonous activity.
“They had a warrant,” Carnes whines in response.
“Shit,” Scavino growls, and I can only imagine the panic in his expression. He knows if they have Carnes’ computer, they will find the tracking code that would search out the president’s niece where she was hidden in the Caribbean.
It could go one of two ways at this point. Scavino could be suspicious and grill Carnes about this more. If he were smart, he would demand more details as to the types of questions DOJ supposedly asked. If he did, he’d probably sniff out this was a sting operation pretty soon because Carnes isn’t particularly good at this stuff.
Or Scavino can panic and react, which seems to be the route he chooses.
“Get out of my office,” Scavino orders Carnes.
“Who are you calling, sir?” Carnes asks, and I have to give the fuckwad credit… that’s an important alert to us that we didn’t ask him to do. Without eyes inside the room, we have to rely solely on Bebe to track and hack the phone call from Scavino. Not only is she going to identify the person to whom the call is going, but she’s also going to block the incoming number so the recipient doesn’t know who’s calling. It might mean the person on the end won’t answer if an identifiable number or contact isn’t shown on screen, but it’s a chance we’re going to have to take. We can’t give this person any indication anything is wrong.
Carnes just gave us a heads-up Scavino has a phone in hand, ready to make a call.
Bebe moves quickly, tapping on her keyboard.
“I’m calling none of your damn business,” Scavino barks, and I can imagine him pointing at his door. “Now… get out. And I suggest you keep your fucking mouth shut. I’ll handle all of this.”
“Yes, sir,” Carnes says, the relief in his voice a little too dramatized. I hope it doesn’t make him suspicious.
There’s a shuffling sound, presumably Carnes leaving, then Bebe murmurs, “There’s an outgoing call.”
Her fingers start tapping furiously, lines of code scrolling across her machine.
The ringing of a phone comes across the speakers… once, twice, three times before it connects.
“Hello,” we hear. The only thing easily identified is the voice is male.
“Gotcha, you bastard,” Bebe exclaims victoriously as she punches a few keys.
Then Scavino’s voice, “Richard… DOJ is on to us.”
There’s silence because Bebe effectively disconnected the call.
“Hello,” Scavino says. “Richard… are you there?”
“Move,” Kynan orders softly into a headset he’s wearing that puts him in direct contact with FBI agents outside Scavino’s office.
We can hear the door to Scavino’s office flying open, then him crying out in surprise. “What the hell is this?”
“Clarence Scavino… turn around and place your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest for treason, kidnapping, and conspiracy.”
Bebe reaches over and flips the power to the speakers, cutting off the rest of the glorious arrest. She leans toward her computer screen, taps a few more keys, and victoriously says, “The recipient of that call is Richard Munford.”
Everyone turns to President Alexander to see if he recognizes the name. He nods, providing a brief summary. “Richard Munford, CEO of Munford Aviation and Electronics. Multibillionaire and one of the leading campaign funders for my opponent in the election.”
Bebe types again before saying, “It appears he lives on an estate outside of Fredericksburg, but he also has a home in the Keys.”
“Shit,” Kynan growls. “Where would he have taken her?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut in frustration. “Bebe… pull up the houses he owns.”
In just mere seconds, she has them up on the screen, showing us the square footage and geography.
“The Keys’ house is in a gated neighborhood. The Virginia estate is isolated on twenty acres and much larger, complete with a few exterior buildings. If I were going to torture someone, I’d put my money there.”
I grimace over her casual use of the word torture, but she’s just speaking plain. We all know what’s more than likely happening to Barrett even as we speak.
“Virginia is our play then,” I announce.
“We only have one shot at this, Cruce,” Kynan points out. “The Keys are closer to where she was kidnapped from.”
“I know,” I murmur, praying I’m fucking right. But I’m going with a gut instinct I’ve always trusted. It
hasn’t let me down yet. “But we need to head to his Virginia estate.”
“Let’s go then,” Kynan says, and we all grab our gear bags from where we’d stowed them around the room. The president has graciously loaned us Marine One, his helicopter, and transport will be quick.
Bebe goes back to her computer. “I’ll figure out the best place for you to land nearby, then send the coordinates.”
Of course she would. This is what we’d planned once Barrett’s kidnapper was identified. She’d direct us to the location, we’d send in a quick reconnaissance, and then we’d storm.
Another hand comes to my shoulder as I make my way to the door. It’s Kynan, and he has an expression on his face that is about as far from businesslike as possible. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, shoulder feels fine. No worries.”
“Not talking about your shoulder. I’m talking about your state of mind,” he replies with a knowing look.
Fuck… he does know how I feel about Barrett.
Before I can respond, he continues. “Remember when I went in and rescued Joslyn?”
I nod, because of course I do. I was there with him. Saw how he wanted to kill the stalker that had taken Joslyn with his bare hands.
“All I’m saying is I’ve been there,” he replies quietly. “I know how fucking scared you are right now, and it’s okay. But you have your brothers on your six. We’re not going to let you fail. We’re going to help you walk Barrett right out of there safe and sound. I promise.”
The words are more appreciated than he’ll ever know. Because for the first time since Barrett was kidnapped, I feel a glimmer of hope that it will all be okay.
CHAPTER 23
Barrett
I can barely hear my own screams because my throat is raw and shredded. Still, I’m screaming once again as he presses the cattle prod into my ribs. He never holds it there long—a few seconds at most—but it’s enough to send bolts of horrendous pain through me. I can’t help but shriek against it. Even when my vocal chords can barely make sound anymore, they still react from the pain.
Code Name Page 16