Finding the Fight: A Stealth Ops Novel

by Sahin, Brittney

  If she was . . . she was dead. But no one, especially not Asher, wanted to voice those words aloud.

  “Let’s move in,” Luke commanded as they bypassed the burning car and headed toward the side entrance of the hospital.

  “Stay behind me. There could be trip wires.” Asher sidestepped Luke without giving him a chance to protest. “We can’t lose you both.”

  Don’t be inside. He wanted her back—but alive. He wanted her fucking alive.

  His booted feet moved slowly into the hospital.

  Death clung to the walls.

  A reminder of the atrocities that had once taken place at the site.

  His stomach roiled, but he kept moving, kept on the lookout.

  Room after room.

  Empty.

  No wires that he could see. No hidden explosives.

  Lead filled his chest when he stumbled upon a hospital room a few minutes later. Two portable heaters and nearly a dozen empty jugs of water scattered all over the floor.

  He touched a metal rolling table piled with saturated rags. Still damp.

  He winced at the sight of blood on the floor. Fresh blood.

  “Waterboarding,” he said under his breath, his body growing tenser by the minute. “He was torturing her.”

  “He didn’t want her to freeze. A plus, I guess.” Liam tipped his chin toward the heaters.

  “We missed her, but not by much.” Luke looked over at Asher, a blank look in his eyes.

  They hadn’t passed any vehicles on the bare roads on their way in, though, which meant Egon had too much of a head start for them to go barreling back outside to comb through foreign territory.

  Asher stowed his weapon. He moved to the far side of the room and pressed his hands to the wall alongside a boarded-up window. He bowed his head and reeled his hand back, unable to stop himself.

  His gloved fist slammed into the concrete wall.

  “Asher.” Knox’s voice met his ears. “We have to go. Owen just called. The German Feds are on their way. We can’t be found here.”

  He hadn’t even heard the call. His mind had been turned to rubble. Nothing in. Nothing out.

  “Come on, man.” It was Luke this time, attempting to talk Asher off the proverbial ledge.

  He was losing his damn mind.

  He was officially showing all of his cards now, and he couldn’t give a damn. All he wanted was Jessica back—to hell with everything else.

  “We’ll get her.” Luke rested a hand on his shoulder, but he lost his hold once Asher swiveled to face him.

  His jaw locked tight as he swept his gaze to Luke’s eyes. “He’s passing her off to whoever hired him.”

  Liam and Knox approached them, still holding their rifles.

  “Maybe they’ll try taking her to Syria,” Knox proposed.

  Luke looked back at him from over his shoulder. “No. Too risky.” He found Asher’s eyes again. “He wouldn’t attempt to smuggle her into the Czech Republic or Poland, either.”

  “They’re going to keep her in Berlin,” Asher whispered, and his heart raced harder now.

  “Another attack,” Luke added to Asher’s line of thought.

  The blood rushed from Asher’s face. “We need to get back to the city.” He moved past the men, retracing the steps he’d already cleared on the way in.

  “You have an idea where she’s being held?” Liam asked once they were inside their rental.

  Asher strapped into the passenger seat alongside Luke, who sat behind the wheel. “Kreuzberg. If Egon handed Jessica over to someone from the al-Nusra Front—or whatever the hell they call themselves now—they’ll be in Kreuzberg. It’s one of the most multicultural places in the city. A lot of refugees live there. They could easily blend in.”

  “Get Owen back on the phone,” Luke instructed. “I need to know if Echo Team found anything on these bastards. I need to know who the hell had the most to gain from killing Ara. Right the fuck now.”

  Chapter Nine

  I made a mistake. Ara’s words played in Jessica’s mind over and over again. When she glanced to the left, barely able to move, she’d swear she could see her ghost.

  Brown eyes. Golden skin. Long, dark hair. Dimpled chin. Sweet smile.

  She’d been twenty-four. Just starting life.

  And now she was gone.

  “I’m sorry,” Jessica whispered as Ara stood before her.

  Guilt clawed, nails sharp like a panther’s, jabbing into her sides as she waited—as the ticking of a clock that only existed in her mind grew louder and louder.

  Her lashes lowered halfway, dizziness starting to overwhelm her. All she could see were little bare feet moving closer to her.

  Was the girl a mirage?

  Jessica was on her side, she realized. In a new bed.

  She opened and closed her eyes again, trying to determine where she was.

  Horns. People talking—but she didn’t think it was German. Arabic, maybe. Based on the sounds, she wasn’t on the ground floor.

  She tried to open her mouth, but it was as if glue kept her lips together. Someone didn’t want her screaming, which meant that, if she could be heard, she could be saved.

  I’m not in the hospital. The thought sank in as she found herself looking at a pair of brown eyes.

  Curly hair framed a girl’s face. Her lips were slanted, curiosity in her eyes.

  She crouched before the bed, staring at Jessica.

  Eight, maybe?

  The girl flinched and jerked upright at the sounds of shouting in Arabic from another room. She took off and light filtered in from the half-open door. Jessica’s gaze drifted to the table alongside it.

  Her heart dropped into her stomach.

  An s-vest was already packed with explosives. Alongside it were bottles of chemicals. A few she recognized: hydrogen peroxide and acetone. If the third group of containers housed mineral acid, they’d have what they’d need to make TATP. The white crystalline powder was so sensitive, it could explode under any type of heat or friction. Terrorists called it the mother of Satan—and now she was probably in a room with the compound.

  Part Two of the act, she realized. Ara had only been the beginning.

  “She wouldn’t talk.” Jessica heard her abductor’s voice from a neighboring room.

  “It’s her. Your job is finished.” The second voice was male. The accent was Middle Eastern.

  Based on the sounds from the creaky hardwood a man moved farther away from her room.

  The hard clank of a door shutting followed.

  She was pretty sure her original abductor was gone.

  More footsteps, and then her door fully opened.

  A man—barely out of his teens—stood in the doorframe now, and she squeezed her eyes closed, dragging up a memory.

  Not everyone is an enemy, she’d said to Asher back at the base six years ago when she’d noticed a line of distrust dart through his forehead as they’d walked by a group of Syrian teen boys.

  Maybe. But someday, he’d began while pointing, they could become my enemy. That’s the sad truth.

  And now, after she opened her eyes, she realized he’d been right. At least about the man now standing before her.

  “Hello, Stephanie,” he said. “It’s been a long time.”

  Chapter Ten

  The sun burned the horizon as it rose, and Asher slipped on his shades, hiding his tired eyes as Luke and Asher continued to canvass the area of Kreuzberg.

  Luke sat behind the wheel with Asher riding shotgun. He patted the cargo pants pocket on the side of his left leg, and the feel of the knife Jessica had given him this past Christmas had his heart steadying a touch.

  You got me a knife? For Christmas? He’d been unable to fight the smile on his lips when he’d discovered they were each other’s secret Santa.

  “We’ll find her,” Luke said, cutting through his thoughts. It’d probably been the tenth time he’d said those words since driving.

  Asher nodded. His own wor
ds trapped in his throat.

  He should’ve told Jessica how he felt before she got on that plane—told her the truth. But how could he have known it may have been his last chance?

  No. His body tensed. Fuck that. He peered back out the window. I’ll find you, he thought the words, as if she could hear him.

  Luke’s phone began ringing a beat later, and Asher grabbed it from the dashboard mount to answer, placing it on speaker.

  “I just got off the phone with Owen. We’re pretty sure we know who we’re dealing with. I’m texting you the information now,” Liam said.

  A sharp breath of air filled Asher’s lungs as he steadied his eyes on the screen.

  “What do we have?” Luke clutched the wheel so tightly, his knuckles whitened.

  “Four terror groups merged in 2017 to form the group Tahrir al-Sham after al-Nusra split ties with al-Qaeda. There appears to be a power struggle for the general military commander now,” Liam explained. “The two images I sent are of Bora Nadar and Samir Hadeed. They’re the ones who are vying for power.”

  “Samir’s Fatima’s son. Ara’s cousin,” Asher said. “He’d barely been a teenager when I met him in Aleppo.” Was he really twenty now?

  “So, why the hell is he now claiming to be the heir to a terrorist group? What happened to him?” Luke asked.

  “We’re still looking into it. But maybe he had Ara killed to show his commitment to the organization. And I’m betting he’s not done,” Liam said.

  Asher’s shoulder blades pinched together as he gripped the bridge of his nose. “I assume you’re already running a list of every known contact of Samir’s?”

  “Yeah. If anyone is in Berlin right now, we’ll get a match,” Liam responded. “We also got word the German police found Egon’s latest vehicle ditched.”

  “Where?” Asher’s body tensed.

  “Twenty kilometers outside Berlin. Looks like he’s heading to Poland, and he’s already handed over Jessica,” Liam answered.

  “My contact tipped off the Germans. They’ll be looking for Egon,” Luke reminded him. “We need to let the Germans handle him for now.”

  Asher hated the idea of letting the prick go, but Luke was right. Finding Jessica and stopping a potential attack was all that mattered.

  “One sec,” Liam said a moment later. “Owen’s calling. I’ll patch him onto the line.”

  “Where are you guys?” Owen asked.

  “Still in Kreuzberg scoping out the area,” Luke responded.

  “Good, because facial recognition got a hit on one of Yasser Hadeed’s enforcers from back in the day. He lives under an alias in Berlin. I also got him on camera with Ara a day before she emailed Jessica.”

  Had Ara really baited Jessica into coming to Berlin? Had this guy forced her to send the email? It was a hard pill to swallow, but if she had done it there had to have been a reason for it. Asher stuffed the thoughts away. He needed to focus on the danger at hand. “He must now work with Samir,” he said.

  “Looks that way,” Owen replied. “He’s been quiet since Yasser died, but he’s our only lead at the moment, and he just hopped onto the U6.”

  Asher sat straighter at the news.

  “My best guess is he’ll get off at Mehringdamm,” Owen said. “I’m sending you his image now.”

  “How long of a ride does he have?” Asher asked.

  “Six minutes, give or take. Can you make it to the station?” Owen asked.

  Luke input the address into the GPS. “We’re four minutes out.”

  “I’m monitoring every stop in between in case he gets off early,” Owen said.

  “Any ideas as to where he may have been coming from?” Asher’s free hand tightened into a hard fist atop his thigh.

  “One idea,” Liam joined the line. “He was within walking distance to where Jessica was taken on Sunday. There’s still a lot of police and media camped out in that area, though.”

  “I’m scanning the cams over there now to see if I can get any hits,” Owen added.

  “Okay. Good work. We’ll call once we’re in position.” Luke ended the call and glanced at Asher.

  Asher’s mouth tightened, and he looked back at the screen, his veins pulsing with fury as he studied the man on the phone.

  Medium height and build. Long dark hair and a beard. Early forties, maybe.

  He tapped at the screen and zoomed in on the guy to get a better look at his face and clothes. “Black jeans. A worn-out brown jacket to his knees. He shouldn’t be too hard to miss in that get-up.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Luke parallel parked a few minutes later. “You take the back. I’ll get Liam on the phone and head to the front.”

  “Plan of attack? Engage or wait for backup?” He wasn’t sure he’d be able to wait if the target led them to Jessica, though. But they had no idea how many enemy combatants they’d be up against, and if they made one wrong move it could risk Jessica’s life.

  “We’ll keep it fluid,” Luke answered before getting out of the car, which meant he hadn’t made up his mind yet.

  Asher zipped up his fleece jacket, which concealed his sidearm, and stepped out of the SUV.

  It was a Tuesday morning, a work day, and the streets were crowded. People spilled out of the train station and flooded the area, but he kept his eyes sharp on the crowd, scanning every face.

  He hung back far enough away from the exit, holding his phone as if checking messages to avoid suspicion. The smell of currywurst from the nearby restaurant hit his nose, and he took a step back to dodge a woman and her baby stroller as they passed.

  His eyes journeyed back to the exit of the station, and his pulse spiked at the sight of a man coming up the steps alongside a group of teens.

  Brown jacket and black jeans. Check. Check.

  Got you, motherfucker. He phoned Luke and gave him the location as he trailed him, keeping a few paces behind.

  A moment later, he locked eyes with Luke, who’d rounded the corner up ahead, and tipped his chin in the direction of their target.

  Luke joined the flow of pedestrians, keeping the man in his sights.

  A few minutes passed before the target stopped outside a three-story brown building that looked like it belonged in the Cold War era with its run-down exterior and peeling paint.

  Luke held a closed fist, signaling for Asher to stay back.

  He gave a hesitant nod, hating to wait, but he followed orders and watched as Luke entered through the door.

  No code to get in, which made things easier.

  After a few minutes, though, he decided to head in.

  There were five apartments on the first floor, and he assumed the same would be true on the second and third levels.

  Where the hell are you? At the sound of something breaking from above, he rushed up the flight of steps and followed the noise.

  A partially open door.

  He drew his weapon and clung to the shadows in the hall outside the apartment.

  “Where the fuck is she?” Luke roared.

  Asher moved into the apartment and found Luke in the kitchen, pointing the barrel of his gun at the target. The man was sprawled with his back on the tiled floor and his palms in the air.

  A woman clutched a girl to her body and stood pressed against the refrigerator, watching the scene in horror.

  “The place is secure. No sign of her,” Luke said without looking at Asher.

  “What happened?” He moved to stand alongside Luke and kept his weapon drawn.

  The muscle in Luke’s jaw tightened as he stared down at the man on the floor. “I’m trying to find out.”

  Asher placed one palm in the air and stepped around the man to get to the woman and child.

  “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” Luke asked from behind.

  No answer from the woman or child, and nothing from the man on the floor, either.

  Asher lowered the gun to his side. “English?” He crouched to eye level with the girl. “Was there a woman here? A pretty blond
e?” He was grasping at straws, but . . .

  Luke repeated Asher’s question, but in German, and then Asher did his best to string the question together in Arabic. He was rusty, but it was worth a shot.

  Still nothing.

  The little girl’s eyes widened a moment later, though, and she gently lifted her chin, and her gaze veered toward the hall at the back end of the kitchen.

  Asher gave a slight nod in understanding and turned to find Luke leaning in closer to the target, burying his knee deep into his chest, adding pressure.

  “I’m going to look around.” Asher followed the direction of the girl’s gaze and found a hall that split off to the left and right.

  After searching the right side and coming up empty, he went and checked the left side and found one room.

  He flicked on the light and glanced at the mattress, more like a cot, beneath the window. Then his gaze swung over to an empty table off to his left.

  He started to turn but slowed and lifted his booted foot carefully, then pressed it down harder. A hollow feel.

  He crouched, lifted the decorative carpets, and shoved them out of the way. Within moments, his fingers were pulling at the loose floorboards.

  “Christ,” he said under his breath as he gazed at a cache of weapons, explosive materials, and a few cans of paint.

  He shoved upright and went back to the kitchen. “We’ve got a problem.”

  Luke still had the son of a bitch pinned beneath him, the gun trained on the man. “What’d you find?”

  “Explosive materials. Weapons. I think they’re planning another attack.” Asher looked at the woman and girl, his heart breaking. The girl had been dragged into this world and never given a chance. “We’re talking some unstable shit, too. Chemicals that can make triacetone triperoxide.”

  “Fuck. You thinking an s-vest or something bigger?” Luke’s Adam’s apple moved in his throat.

  “Maybe.”

  “Where the hell did they take her?” He shoved the barrel of the gun into the man’s mouth, and the guy dropped his eyes closed.

  He used to be an enforcer for a terrorist organization, but now he looked like a man on the verge of breaking. Maybe he’d been out of the terrorist game for a while. Asher assumed the woman and child were his wife and daughter, but he wasn’t about to hold a gun to them to get answers. He had his limits.