Seized (Hostage Rescue Team Series, #7) (20 page)

And it hit him like a two-thousand pound JDAM.

He loved her. Loved her so much he ached with it, felt like his chest might explode. Fuck, he wanted to hold her so badly right now. Would have given anything to be there to protect her.

He held the phone out for Ethan and DeLuca to see. His commander glanced at it then rushed to open the briefing room door. “Rycroft. We just heard from Cruzie’s sister. The ship’s definitely been taken over and she sent a picture of some of the suspects.”

Sawyer moved out of the way while DeLuca, Rycroft and Celida all rushed past him down the hall, all on their phones. “How soon can you get Gold Team here?” Rycroft asked DeLuca.

“Six hours, give or take.”

“Make it so.” Then Rycroft called to Sawyer and Ethan over his shoulder. “You guys get your team and gear rounded up. We’re heading over to meet with the ST6 boys.”

Sawyer rushed back to the briefing room and opened the door to deliver the news to his teammates. “Guys, gear up. We’re moving.”

Nobody said anything as they quickly gathered their gear and loaded into the vehicles for the short drive to the base. Rycroft was already there at the temporary command center, waiting for them with the SEALs. Bauer walked over to them and was met with handshakes and backslaps.

Sawyer took a seat next to Ethan, rubbed his hands over his thighs. “I just wanna fucking get moving.”

“Tell me about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his foot tapping a restless rhythm against the concrete floor.

Come on, already
, he bitched silently. At least get them on a flight to Alaska so they could get within striking distance in the next few hours. They could work out logistics and everything else on the way, coordinate the takedown of the ship and be ready if they got the call.

DeLuca was over with the SEALs, speaking to their commander and team leader with Tuck. Then he stepped to the front of the room and let out a sharp whistle, getting everyone’s attention. “Okay, most of you guys know each other already but we’ll save all the other introductions for later. I just got the word from the director. We’re a go if the higher-ups decide tactical action is necessary on board the Ocean Freedom. As of right now this is a joint operation between the HRT and ST6.

“Blue Team’s here already,” he said, nodding toward Sawyer and the others, “and Gold Team’s being brought in as well. You’ll be transported by C-130 to Coast Guard Base Juneau within the hour, as soon as the aircraft’s fueled and the crew files a flight plan. All teams will rendezvous there and get ready to take the ship if necessary.”

Thank God. Sawyer couldn’t stand waiting around here while knowing Carm and her mom were being held hostage. He had so many questions. Who the attackers were, how many, their motivation, whether any security members on board were still alive.

DeLuca turned the floor over to Celida, who strode over to stand next to him.

“Okay, to bring you guys up to speed, here’s what we’ve got so far. The Ocean Freedom is a cruise ship carrying just under three thousand passengers and crew.” She used a remote to pull up a picture onto the screen on the wall behind her. “Most of the passengers are North American and European, and the captain is a Dutch national, former Naval officer. We have to assume he’s been killed or captured along with the rest of the ship’s officers, or that he’s in on it, though I doubt the latter.

“The crew is primarily Indonesian and Malaysian, with some Filipino and Indians as well. A kind of manifesto believed to be from someone in command of this cell was just released, and we’re questioning Aziz about it right now.”

That fucker. Sawyer’s hands squeezed into fists. What he wouldn’t give for five minutes alone in the interrogation room with that bastard right now.

“From what we can tell, the attackers on board appear to be Indonesian crewmembers. Analysts are also going over the manifesto they published. Their motivation is not only religious, but to draw attention to some members of theirs who they think were captured by U.S. forces and taken to a secret CIA holding facility in Lithuania.

“We also received a picture from one of the passengers aboard ship shortly after the siege began. We’ve already been running the crew’s faces through facial recognition software right now, and we’re hoping for a match soon.”

Damn I love you, Carm.
He wished he’d told her that before. What if he never got the chance now?

No. She’ll be okay. She’s smart. She’ll lie low, play it safe.

It was driving him nuts to just sit here, his mind making him crazy as it spun a thousand different scenarios that might be taking place right now, each more horrific than the last. The hostage takers had already shown they were willing to kill passengers. Was she still okay? If they found her phone she wouldn’t be.

He shifted restlessly, his whole body drawn taut as a wire while trying to pay attention to all the details Celida was giving. He wanted to send another message but knew it was too risky. Carmela was smart. At least if his response got through she’d know he’d heard her, and she’d figure out that help was on its way.

Even if it was coming too damn slowly for anyone’s liking.

Rycroft took over now, talking about the Russian angle. “We’re still investigating what their involvement means, but I think we can safely presume they’re either backing or actually assisting the terrorists on board. The manifesto they just released says the U.S. government has until tomorrow at sixteen-hundred-hours Eastern time to release the prisoners supposedly being held in Lithuania, or they’ll randomly begin killing passengers.

“They’re not interested in money or negotiations. These guys mean business, and they’re willing to die to get what they want.”

Sawyer was more than happy to accommodate their wishes and send them all to Allah the first chance he got.

Rycroft’s hard silver gaze scanned the room. “When you draw up your tactical plans for boarding the ship, make sure stealth is one of your paramount concerns. Because these bastards claim to have a failsafe on board that they’ve threatened to detonate if anyone so much as approaches the ship, taking the vessel and everyone on it to the bottom of the ocean.”

****

T
he theater she and her mother had watched the comedy routine in earlier now served as their prison.

Carmela shifted against the right hand wall to ease the stiffness in her lower back and hip. All the seats had already been full by the time they’d been herded in here, so she was crowded with the remaining passengers against the side walls. Her hands and arms had long since turned numb from being on top of her head.

The outline of her phone dug into her skin, where she’d hidden it beneath the side band of her bra. Before they’d herded everyone into the theater, the hostage takers had searched everyone for electronics. Carmela had been careful to keep her upper arms against her sides while she held her hands up. One man had give her a perfunctory search before shoving her through the doorway.

From what she could see, five armed men stood guard in and around the passengers. She couldn’t tell exactly where they were, since they’d turned off all the lights in here. They must have cut power to this part of the ship completely, because the air conditioning wasn’t working and the temperature had climbed substantially over the last hour.

Sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip, rolled down her temples and down her sides. It was already stifling but everyone was too afraid to move or say anything. They’d all seen the way they’d shot the men who’d tried to stop them, and the gunmen had made it clear they would shoot without warning if anyone attempted to leave the theater.

A strong vibration buzzed under her right arm, against her ribs. She froze, her blood pressure plummeting at the humming sound her phone made. Shit, she thought she’d set it to silent, but in her haste to hide it she must have hit the wrong button. The sound seemed over pronounced in the quiet room, making her heart pound.

Her mother hissed in a breath and elbowed her but Carmela didn’t dare move. Thankfully her arm, sweater and jacket were enough to conceal the illumination from the screen that would have given her away, and the amount of white noise in the room from all the people crowded in here covered the sound.

Was it Sawyer responding? Had he gotten her message?

Please, please...
She needed to know he knew about their plight. Needed to know help was on its way.

After a few minutes when no one said or did anything, she began shrinking down, curling into a ball against the wall. Ignoring her mother’s sharp jab in the ribs, she eased one hand beneath her jacket and sweater to reach her phone. Each movement was agonizingly slow, but she dared not move faster. She needed to know if her message had gotten out.

When she had the phone in her hand she kept it tucked beneath her sweater and carefully lowered her other hand to pull the neckline of the sweater away from her body, far enough that she could put her face in the opening. With the screen held against her skin, she hit the home screen button and read the text.

Stay down baby. Stay safe.

Tears clogged her throat but she swallowed them down. Baby. What she wouldn’t have given to hear him call her that face to face.

Had he just sent it now? Or had there been a delay? She couldn’t risk looking again to check, at least now she knew someone she trusted realized what was happening and would send help. Maybe he’d even be directly involved in the rescue.

The thought of him and Ethan taking the ship with his team filled her with simultaneous hope and fear for their safety. She had a responsibility to provide Sawyer with as much intel as she could.

Five armed men were in the theater but she’d seen more on the way here from the amidships staircase. It was clear they had total control of the ship, as no one had tried to counter the threat in the past hour. At least not down here. And from the way the men had been talking to each other over radios, they seemed to be well organized.

There was no way she could reply to Sawyer without putting herself and everyone around her in more peril, so she silenced the phone, tucked it back under her bra band and settled back into her original position. Next to her the father holding his little daughter let out a deep sigh and shifted her in his arms. The girl was restless, still frightened and Carmela’s heart went out to them both. These heartless assholes were the worst sort of cowards, holding and threatening innocent people, even children.

“Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom,” the little girl whined in a whisper.

The man shushed her and didn’t respond. A minute later the squirming got worse. “Daddy...” Carmela could hear the tears in her little voice.

A bright beam of light hit them. They all froze as one of the gunmen aimed a high-powered flashlight at them. “What are you doing?”

None of them said anything, all frozen in place under the laser-like impact of that light.

“You,” the man barked, and started toward them. He had his rifle aimed at them with one hand. “What are you doing?”

The father hesitated a moment, then responded. “My daughter has to use the bathroom.”

He grunted. “She can piss in her pants like the rest of you,” he sneered in heavily accented English.

The little girl—Jenny—started to cry softly. Her father tried to comfort her, his own agitation stoking Carmela’s anger.
So brave of you, asshole. Standing there pointing an automatic weapon at an unarmed man and his innocent five year old.
The rage churned just beneath the surface, a slow, seething mass under her skin.

Her mother grabbed her sleeve. “Don’t,” was all she said, her voice nearly imperceptible, but Carmela heard the plea in it all the same.

She needn’t have worried.

One of the other men snarled something in a language she didn’t understand and started toward them. Carmela shrank away from the father, wishing she could pull Jenny into her arms and make this all go away. Please stay still and be quiet, she silently begged the little girl, who was still crying, the heartbroken sounds slicing at Carmela.

The second gunmen stalked toward them, shoving his way through the crowd. “Nobody move,” he growled. “My men have the entire room covered.” His boots thudded over the carpet as he neared them, rifle held across his chest.

The people around them seemed to melt away, several of them gasping as he took something from his belt. He held up a bottle of water and twisted it open, his rifle dangling in front of him. “Drink this and let her go in it after,” he snapped at the father, who took it without a word.

The gunman pivoted to return to his place but caught the edge of his toe under Carmela’s thigh. He barked something at her in another language and gave her a shove with his boot. There was nowhere for her to go, and when she didn’t move fast enough, he jabbed the butt of his rifle against her ribs...

Somehow her phone came loose, slid from beneath her top and hit the floor, and the screen lit up like a freaking beacon.

She held her breath. The man froze for a second then grabbed it. He hit the screen and saw Sawyer’s message and her heart plummeted to her toes, taking all her blood with it. A wave of cold suffused her, icy terror washing up her spine.

The man turned on her with a furious expression and bent to hiss in her face. “What is this?” he demanded. “Answer me!” he grabbed her chin in a cruel grip, his fingers digging into her cheeks, his face inches from hers.

She didn’t answer, terrified that whatever she said would be a death sentence.

“What is it?” one of the others called to him.

He straightened, holding the phone up. “She’s been communicating with someone. She was trying to get help.” He turned back to her, grabbed a handful of her hair this time. “Who is it? Who sent you this?”

She tried desperately to think of something to say that might save her, came up blank.

The man let out another snarl and yanked her up by her hair. Carmela gasped and shot to her knees, one hand automatically going to his wrist to prevent him from pulling out a handful of her hair. “Get up,” he shouted and yanked again.