Seized (Hostage Rescue Team Series, #7) (15 page)

Rycroft might also be former SF and a good guy, but his presence at the meeting made Sawyer uneasy. If he was here in Seattle, then it meant intelligence officials expected the proverbial shit was about to hit the fan. The attack had to be imminent and it frustrated him that they hadn’t yet stopped the plot dead in its tracks.

The sense of urgency in the room was palpable. Every person at this meeting was in a race against time to find and capture whoever was planning this strike before it happened.

His thoughts strayed back to Carmela as he threaded his way through the crowd of agents lining the wall next to the door. She’d been on his mind all day. He’d texted her prior to leaving for the op, since he didn’t think he’d get the chance to talk to her before her ship left port. He couldn’t stop thinking about last night, couldn’t stop remembering the feel of her, the taste of her. He wanted more, but he had to be fair to her, get over his baggage and move on first.

In the few hours he’d had to himself after dropping her off, he’d wrestled with what he wanted to do about them. She was exactly what he’d been waiting for, the kind of woman to come home to at the end of the day, share his life with. He’d already been half in love with her, but after last night...

Hell.

He mentally shook his head at himself. He was never getting over her now, and he must have been insane to think he could ever walk away from a chance with her. She already owned part of his heart, and if he let her in a little more, she’d own the whole thing.

Lying on his hotel room bed alone just before dawn this morning after dropping her off, he’d come to a decision. Trina was part of his past, that entire awful situation was behind him, and yet he was still letting old fears control his actions.

To hell with that.

Across the room Sawyer’s gaze connected with Ethan’s and guilt sliced through him. Shit, did Ethan suspect something was up between him and Carm? He didn’t think so but his friend had been uncharacteristically quiet around him today, even on the way back to the hotel after the op. He took the chair beside Ethan that the guys had saved for him and put his personal crisis aside as DeLuca got down to business.

“You guys all remember Agent Rycroft with the NSA. He flew in a few hours ago and just received some fresh intel from his team back at Fort Mead that you all need to know about.” He stepped aside to let Rycroft take center stage.

“Thanks, Matt. Morning, all. As you already know, the suspects in custody from your previous op are mid-level players of a cell involved with the plot we’re investigating. But we’ve had our eyes on a bigger prize over the past few days.” With the sleeves of his pale blue dress shirt rolled up his forearms, Rycroft tapped a few keys on the laptop before him, brought up an image on the screen mounted on the far wall.

A middle-aged man of Middle Eastern descent with a moderate length beard appeared, wearing white robes. Sawyer didn’t recognize him. “Ahmed Aziz,” Rycroft said. “That’s who we’ve traced all the threads of this cell back to. He’s a Saudi national, an oil magnate currently living in Jordan. Or he was, until last week.”

He paused to straighten before continuing, easily commanding the whole room with his presence. “Six days ago he left his home in Amman, after telling everyone he was going on vacation and didn’t specify where. He’s rich enough that he doesn’t answer to anyone. At first we thought he might be simply providing the financial backing to the cell or cells here in the States waiting to take action, but recent intel suggest he could be directly involved as well.”

He paused a moment. “We’ve been monitoring chatter and digging through international security agency databases but until now he’s been unaccounted for. Based on recent chatter, the latest thinking was that he’d either adopted a new identity, changed his appearance enough to fly here to the U.S., or he’d simply gone to ground somewhere else.

“I should also mention that before he struck it rich in the oil industry, he worked as a chemical engineer.” His grave tone left no doubt how dangerous Aziz might be. And Rycroft knew just how scary this chemical weapons shit was. He and his now wife had been exposed to Sarin gas during an op in Karachi. They’d both barely survived.

Sawyer folded his arms across his chest, his hands curling into fists. A chemical weapons strike on the West Coast would be devastating. Bad enough to think about that kind of carnage unleashed on the population, but knowing Carmela and her mom were here made him feel sick with worry. The sooner her ship left Seattle, the better, and hopefully this situation would be over by the time her cruise was done.

Rycroft typed in something else, brought up another screen showing a map of the greater Seattle area. “Undercover teams have been running surveillance ops on two potential targets in the area where he might have visited yesterday. Shortly before landing in Seattle I got confirmation that one of the men seen leaving a home in Bellevue yesterday evening, was in fact Aziz.”

Bellevue was a quick fifteen-minute drive from downtown, across Lake Washington via the floating bridges.

Rycroft nodded at Celida and Travers before continuing. “We’ve also discovered several phone calls he’s made recently from various burner phones, using new, cutting-edge voice recognition software. He only uses them once, then takes out the battery. All the calls are to various numbers in Jakarta. We now think he’s taking orders from someone else over there in Indonesia, maybe even the ringleader of the cell, who they call the
Mawla
. Arabic for protector, master or supporter. If we’re going to stand a chance in hell of cracking this plot before it happens and finding out who the
Mawla
is, we need to find out who he’s taking orders from.”

He pulled up another image of Aziz, clean-shaven this time, and dressed in jeans and a button down shirt. “This was taken six minutes ago. Aziz will be armed and he’s got a well-trained security team with him. All former Saudi Special Security Forces.”

Rycroft’s expression was as grim as Sawyer had ever seen it as he braced both hands on the tabletop to address them. “We’ve got a lock on his current location.” His gaze settled on the members of Blue Team. “So we’re gonna need you HRT boys to bring him in for questioning
immediately
.”

****

W
ira adjusted the radio on his belt and took the forward, portside stairs from the lido deck to the navigation deck where the nav bridge was located. The captain was there along with the rest of his officers in charge of the ship for this voyage.

Captain Van Slater smiled at him and nodded. “Wira. Good to see you again.”

“You too, sir.” They shook hands. Wira had sailed under Van Slater’s command seven times before. He was young, for a captain of a cruise ship, early to mid-forties. The man was professional but warm and seemed to make a point of remembering people’s names and circumstances. So his next words probably shouldn’t have surprised Wira as much as they did.

“I was sorry to hear about your mother. Is she getting better?”

Wira withdrew his hand, his smile stiff. He would likely never see his mother again. But he hated the pity in the other man’s eyes. “No, sir. But thank you for asking.” There was no way the captain could know that her health had taken a drastic turn immediately after Leo disappeared. It had changed her. In ways that had shocked him at first, but now he loved her all the more for it. Losing Leo had broken her heart.

He’s not dead
. Wira knew it, no matter what the evidence or anyone else said.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Van Slater clasped his hands behind his back, his feet braced apart out of habit, likely from his years serving in the Royal Netherlands Navy prior to working for the cruise line. “The crew is accounted for and all our supplies have been loaded, I see?”

“Yes. I’ve checked everything personally.” All the crewmembers were aboard and at their stations, including those who belonged to Wira’s secret team. “Everyone’s getting ready for the muster station drill.” Wira’s team members were also awaiting the prearranged signal once they left the final port before sailing for Anchorage. The one the
Mawla
would deliver.

“Good.” He nodded at the screen displaying the latest meteorological information. “Looks like we’re in for a stretch of good weather for the first week.”

He put on another smile. “Smooth sailing, then.” The irony of the wording amused him. He felt a tiny bit of guilt about betraying people he’s worked with, but quickly dismissed it. Collateral damage was a necessary evil in order to accomplish this mission. He refused to think about the people who would die as a result of the operation. The American people needed to suffer just as his family had. They deserved it.

“Exactly. Anything else to report?”

“No, sir. I was just going to go down to the lower promenade deck but wanted to check in with you first.”

“Good, good. Carry on.”

Wira left the nav deck, this time taking the aft, starboard side stairwell down to the lower promenade deck where the last of the passengers were boarding the ship via the gangway extending from the cruise ship terminal. He checked in with the crewmembers under his command, observed while they carried out their duties.

The crewmembers screened passengers as they embarked, using their ship ID cards to verify their identity, put them through metal detectors while their personal items were scanned with an X-ray machine much the same as they would be at an airport.

A few minutes later another crewmember entered from the gangway. He paused inside the doorway and removed his sunglasses, his dark gaze connecting with Wira’s.

Ali.

Wira gave him a nearly imperceptible nod, but it was enough. The younger man returned the gesture and continued past the others without a word, disappearing into the crowd filing up the amidships stairwell. Wira took a deep breath as relief flooded him.

Ali had just verified that the last piece of their plan was finally in place, and was still undetected by anyone else.

Wira turned his attention back to the passengers, watched the proceedings and offered a polite smile to everyone who met his gaze. A few older couples filed through the security area, one woman needing assistance without her cane while it was being x-rayed, then an attractive young Hispanic woman in her early thirties came through the metal detector.

When she saw him she flashed him a little smile before turning her head and speaking to a shorter, plumper, middle-aged woman behind her, whom he guessed from certain similarities must be her mother. He glanced over at the monitor as the crewmember standing at the podium checked their photographs against the pictures scanned into the ship’s security system with their ship ID cards.

Carmela and Veronica Cruz, from Miami.

Both women nodded to him as they passed by and he did the same, keeping his expression neutral, careful not to betray his growing excitement. The failsafe was now safely aboard and hidden amongst the other supplies they would need when they took the ship. That final measure was in place only as a last resort, in case U.S. authorities tried to launch a counterattack before he and the others were able to safely evacuate the ship.

He shifted his stance and stood tall, hands clasped loosely behind him. With his post and his impeccable service and background records, no one would ever suspect that he was heading up this attack. The entire intelligence community was so focused on a different kind of threat, they’d missed this one entirely.

It made him even prouder. The most powerful nation in the world had missed this op unfolding right under its nose. Leo and the
Mawla
would be proud of him too.

He waited another forty minutes until the crew withdrew the gangway and untied the moorings. A P.A. announcement described the meanings for the various alarms the ship used. Shortly thereafter, everyone made their way to the upper promenade deck for the mandatory muster station drills.

As the ship’s whistle sounded three times to announce it was leaving port, Wira hid a smile and turned toward the aft of the vessel to continue his duties, his pulse thrumming. Everything was going exactly according to plan thus far and he had faith that their plot would remain undetected until it was too late.

Every member of his team was prepared to die in this op if necessary. And once they were within helicopter range, their Russian friends would pick them up and help him on his journey to free his brother.

––––––––

“A
nd what creation is waiting for me tonight?”

Dwi, their Indonesian cabin steward, turned and smiled at Carmela as she strode up the hallway toward the cabin she shared with her mother. “You’ll have to wait and see,” he said with a mysterious grin. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I will, I’ve loved all the others.” Little animal creations made out of a hand towel, carefully set on the foot of her bed each night. There’d been a seal, a squid and an elephant. So cute she’d taken pictures of them to send Sawyer.

“Did you have a good night?”

“Yes.” She didn’t ask if he had, since he started early in the morning and didn’t finish his shift until each cabin had been tended to. “When’s your next day off?” Well, technically he only got half a day off each week. Which sucked, but she guessed it made sense considering there were only so many crewmembers to do all the jobs aboard ship.

This time his grin was wider, showing his teeth. “Sunday.”

“You’re going to call your family, I’ll bet?”

“Yes, it’s my son’s birthday today. I left a special present for him.”

It made her sad to know Dwi wouldn’t see his little boy for another ten months. “I hope you get to see him open it.”

“My wife promised she’d wait until I called.”

“Well that’s good.”

He motioned to the bucket filled with cleaning supplies that he held. “Well, have a good night.”

“You too.”

Carmela let herself in and shut the door. When she turned around, she laughed out loud at the sight before her. Dwi had somehow fashioned the towel into a monkey, hanging from the clips of a coat hanger by its little hands.