Freedom's Promise: Task Force 125 (9 page)

Sarah sat and fixed Davidson with a glare that promised violence at her first opportunity.

Son of a bitch set us up.

She heard Buffy speaking to someone
in the hallway
and then soft footsteps walked away.  Sarah reached into her purse and held tight to her phone with one finger waiting precariously over number three, her speed dial for Brian.

Buffy reentered the room and nodded at Davidson.

"All clear, sugar lips?"

"She's gone."  Buffy nodded and then gave Will and Sarah an apologetic look.  "I'm sorry about that.  We had to wait until the maid left.  We're pretty sure she's a plant."  Buffy took a seat on one of the dark leather chairs.

Sarah and Will
sighed
their relief in unison.

So that's it.

Davidson stood and walked to the desk, unlocked a drawer and pulled a large black and white photo out of it.  He handed the photo to Will and sat back in his seat.  "That's where he is.  It was confirmed this afternoon.  As of that time, he was still alive and surprisingly unharmed."

Sarah’s breath caught at the thought of Vince being tortured.  It was likely to happen.  She just hoped they could get to him before it went too far.

Will
examined
the photo.  "Do you know anything about the compound? 
Any information on security or scheduled comings and goings?
  Anything else you can give us?"

Davidson shook his head.  “That’s all I have for now.  I’ve got somebody on the inside working on getting us more information.  I’ll contact you as soon as I get anything.”

Will sat up and examined Davidson.  "Why are you doing this?  Do you know Vince?"

Davidson shook his head.  "I've never met the man in my life.  When you get him out, I'll be happy to explain it to him though."

"Good enough."  Will stood and shook Davidson's hand.  "Thanks for helping us."

Buffy stood and appeared more of a seasoned operative than the ditzy bimbo she’d been earlier.  "We'll be in touch.  We should have more information for you soon."

Sarah rose and looked at Buffy.  She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen her before.  "Have we met?"

Buffy nodded.  "I was a
military
cop
stationed at RAF
Lakenheath
, too. 
A dog handler.
  I left a few months after you arrived.  We crossed paths in the armory a few times."

Sarah smiled.  "That's it."  She shook Buffy's hand and chuckled.  "That explains the well-trained dogs, too.  Thank you."

"Good luck, Sarah."

Davidson held his handshake with Will.  "Let me know if you need anything.  I can muster up a few resources if I have to.  We need to get him out of there."

"Will do.
  Thank you, Mark."  

Sarah and Will practically ran out the door and down the stairs.

Chapter Seventeen

Nikolai walked over to the bar and picked up a crystal decanter.  "Would you like a brandy?"

"Sure.  Might as well."

Because it may be my last
.

Vince sat back in the comfortable dining chair, full from the big meal he'd just eaten.  He knew it could be a while before his next meal so he ate as much as he could without hurting himself.  He casually took one more of Nikolai's cigarettes.

Stay cool.
 
The more time you can buy, the better the chance of the team getting here before he goes Red Mafia and starts trimming your fingers off.

Vince recalled a young Russian he'd done business with a few years ago.  He'd been missing digits above the top knuckle of three consecutive fingers.  Vince had assumed it was
a grenade throw
gone bad, but, after a little too much vodka, the Russian explained how the Red Mafia liked to send messages and persuade people to see things their way.

Vince looked at his hands and then shook off the thought.  "So let's talk about this buy-in opportunity you're offering me."

Nikolai returned to the table with two crystal brandy snifters.  "Yes, let's talk."  His mood seemed more congenial now that Vince was asking questions and showing interest. 

The amber liquid sloshed in the wide belly of the glass as Vince accepted it from Nikolai.  "Thank you."

Nikolai closed his eyes and inhaled deeply from the fat, round glass.  "So what can I tell you?"  He settled back into his chair and appeared ready to talk business.

Vince took a sip of brandy and let it warm his mouth before swallowing.  "You can start with what you want me to tell you."

"I want the names and cell phone numbers of the other people involved in killing Victor, and I want to know why you targeted him."

"Cell phones?
  You want to chat with them?"

"You know very well that people can be tracked by their cell phones."

Yes, I do.

"What else do you want?"

Nikolai shook his head and raised his hands slightly.  "That's all."  He smiled as he sat back in his chair and crossed his legs.  "Then you do business
as you have been only you're working for my organization.  You'll continue to maintain your current clients as well as Victor's.  I'll even give you a generous piece of the action.  My organization can also offer you protection you don't currently have.  After all, if you'd had a competent bodyguard, you wouldn't be here, would you?"

Vince smiled at the irony.  "Well, that goes without saying."

Damned if I do and damned if I don't.  At least if I don't, the only one who dies is me.

"I think it is time we say good night.  Ian, would you please escort our guest to his new room?  He has some thinking to do, and I'm sure he'd like his rest."

The big Aussie answered.  "Right,
Niko
.  No problem.”  He nodded his massive head toward the door.  “Let's go, mate."

Vince grabbed Nikolai's cigarettes on his way out of the room.  "You don't mind, do you, Nikolai?"

"Of course not.
  Sleep well."

~~~

Vince stumbled into the room with the help of a push from Ian.  Golden stucco walls were offset by the red velvet curtains, bedding, and Oriental rug. 

Blood red everywhere I look.  That doesn’t bode well.

The queen-sized brass bed looked inviting and more than comfortable.  Any other time he’d be wishing Sarah was here to share it with him.  Today he was glad she wasn’t.  Seeing the bed made Vince suddenly realize how tired he was.  After being drugged for several days and sleeping on a small cot, he could almost feel the bed
’s gravitational
pull
.
 

A window.

A flash of hope crossed his mind when he saw the window on the other side of the bed. 

Ian didn’t move from the doorway.  "The bathroom is off to the left there, mate.  Don't get any ideas.  We stripped it of mirrors so don't go looking for any weapons.”

Exposed plumbing could work.

“
That window has an alarm and bars so don't even think about opening it.  Sweet dreams."  The Australian slammed the door as he left and the sound of a deadbolt on the other side ended any thoughts Vince had of busting out. 

So much for that.
  Might as well take advantage of the bathroom and wash these clothes.  Nikolai isn't going to like my answer in the morning.  I'll probably go back in the cell tomorrow, or worse.  At least I can buy a little time for Will to figure this out.

Chapter Eighteen

Sarah was the first to walk into the house as Will and Brian were busy tucking the helicopter back into the hangar.  She kicked off her
Manolo
Blahniks
and breathed a sigh as her toes dug into the plush living room carpet.

Jason was sitting on the couch, watching Sky News and drinking a cup of coffee. 

"Hey, Jase."

He looked up at Sarah while setting the television on mute.  "So it went well?"

Guinea
called from the kitchen.  "Welcome back.  You want some coffee, Sarah?"

"Looks like she could use some
tea
and I'm not talking
Darjeeling
."

Guinea
's voice sounded muffled as though he had his head in a cupboard.  "I think I have bottle of Cuervo back here somewhere."

Sarah began pacing barefoot in front of the large, marble fireplace, still wearing the long black gown she'd worn to the embassy party.  She walked, absent mindedly smoking, and wondering how long it would be before she could pick up a gun and blow Nikolai's head off.

Okay, so it's a little extreme but just when I get the great guy, the house, and the money, some frigging Russian makes off with my man?  What the fuck kind of cosmic joke is that?

A voice thundered through the front door.  "Chris!"

Jason looked up wide-eyed. 

Sarah jumped at the commanding tone of Will's voice.  The man never spoke loudly and certainly never yelled.
It surprised her that he did now.

Will spoke to nobody in particular.
  "All right, listen, if Nikolai is as connected as I think he is, we're gonna have a hell of a fight on our hands.  We aren't going to be able to do this alone. 
Guinea
, is Brock still running that P.M.C.?"

Sarah mouthed the letters to Jason in the hope he could translate for her. 
"
P.M.C?"
 
She'd never heard the acronym before.

Jason flicked an inch-long ash into a nearby ashtray.  "Private military
company,
commonly referred to by the uninitiated as mercenaries."

Sarah opened her eyes wide.  She knew they existed but had never met one.  She had no idea you could just call them up.

Maybe I went into the wrong business.

Guinea
walked out from behind the kitchen island with a bottle of tequila, a shot glass, and a cigarette hanging from his lips. 
"Old Thunderbunny?"
 
Guinea
laughed without dropping the cigarette.  "He sure is.”

Will tipped his head to one side thoughtfully.  “Is he big enough to handle this?”

“Fuck, yeah.  He's got a wicked massive operation going.  Blackwater has nothing on him.”

Will half-smiled.  “Good.  Where’s Chris?”

“He’s downstairs running
those coordinates
you texted.” 
Guinea
handed Sarah the bottle of tequila and the glass.  “Here's your tea,
Cinderella
."

Sarah frowned at the odd reference, poured some tequila in the glass, and shot it down like a drunk five minutes before last call. 

Guinea
appeared disappointed. 
"Gown.
  No shoes. 
Missing Prince Charming.
  Jesus, don't you people read?"

"
Guinea
, quit screwing around.  We need you to put a call in to Brock right away.  Use the secure line in the office downstairs.  I want a full squad, sixteen guys.”

Guin
ea
turned to Will. 
“Specialties?”

“Marines may be more sympathetic to our cause but mainly we just need sixteen of the meanest motherfuckers in the valley of the shadow of death.”

“Hazard pay?”

Will nodded.  “Contact is expected.  We'll arm, armor and pay top dollar.  Have him fax the contract and name his price.  I'll transfer the funds immediately.  I want his best guys on this.”

“When do you want them?”

“See if you can get them here in twenty-four hours.  We'll put them up at the Burj Al Arab when they arrive."

"You got it, Billy." 
Guinea
dropped his cigarette in the ashtray and slipped quickly and quietly through the basement door.

"Jason, what's the status of Vince’s armory?"

"Weapons all in working order.
 
Plenty for an assault squad.
 
Ammo supplies are all good.  Brian's gonna want to check the explosives."

"Has Vince got a Mark-19 in there?"

"Sure does."

"Good.  Get one mounted on that chopper and get the minigun set up too.  I want a full complement of ammo for both."

"You got it."

Guinea
emerged from the basement just as Jason opened the door.  "All set.  They'll be in
Dubai
tomorrow night at 2100 hours."

Jason paused to hear Will’s plan for the mercenaries.

"Good.  I'll call the Burj and get some suites set up on my account.  We'll have them standby there until we're ready for them."