Targeted (34 page)

He scrubbed a hand over his face, hating the helpless sensation that had overtaken him. Against his better judgment, he quietly moved to the bedroom door and peered inside. Curled on her side with her eyes closed, Sophie was breathing and completely fine. Maybe not fine, but alive and safe.

It would have to be good enough for now. He’d fucked up so bad he wasn’t sure anything would ever be right again. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her after keeping all his feelings locked up for years, he wasn’t sure how he was going to go back to life without Sophie in it.

Detonator: a device or a small, sensitive charge used to detonate an explosive.

Ronald shut down his computer with shaking hands. This was it. After six months, he was finally going to see his daughter again. He hadn’t wanted to come to work today, but both the NSA and Vargas didn’t want him to draw any undue attention to himself. Ronald shook his head at the irony.

His cell phone buzzing across his desk made him jump. The number wasn’t one he recognized. “Hello?”

“Are you ready?” Wesley Burkhart didn’t have to introduce himself. His gravelly voice was distinctive enough.

“I think so.” He wiped a clammy palm on his slacks.

“The equipment is working. Remember, we’re listening and watching the whole time. As soon as you get what we need, we’re taking him down.”

“I know.” Even to his own ears, he didn’t sound convinced. If he was going in by himself, he didn’t think he’d be as scared. His daughter was going to be there, though. That made the chance for a screwup unimaginable. Part of him wished he’d gone to law enforcement sooner, but he still didn’t know who he would have turned to if the NSA hadn’t approached him. If he’d turned to the wrong people and gotten his daughter killed, he’d have never forgiven himself. Hell, he still wasn’t sure that wouldn’t happen today.

“We’re trained for this sort of thing, Mr. Weller.”

Easy for him to say. It wasn’t his daughter’s life on the line. “I need to get out of here.”

“Take it easy driving. We all know how stressful this is, but you need to show up in one piece.”

“I will. . . . I guess I’ll be seeing you soon.”

After they disconnected, he checked his shirt pocket one more time to make sure the pen was still there. As he gathered his things to leave, he started to finger his tie, then forced himself to stop. He couldn’t afford to draw anyone’s attention to it, and Vargas would be watching his every move.

•   •   •

There was a quiet buzz of anticipation humming through the hangar. Jack had cleared off a table so he could prep and give him and Sophie some privacy. Not that she was speaking to him. She’d been quiet, withdrawn, her eyes puffy and red from crying last night—which made him feel like shit—and he didn’t want to push her too much until this operation was over. Until the threat of death wasn’t hanging over her head anymore. Maybe then she’d listen to him. Or at least think about forgiving him. Then . . . no, he didn’t even want to hope for more. Right now he just wanted to bring Vargas down and save her friend.

Ronald Weller would be meeting with Vargas soon, so all the team members were in position. Analysts were ready at their laptops and the agents were waiting for Wesley to give them the go-ahead. A few men were staked out in a nondescript van near Vargas’s hangar watching the place, just waiting for him to arrive. As soon as the agents checked in with Jack and Wesley, the team would make their move.

Sophie wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive gesture. “I don’t understand why you have to go in there too.”

He automatically checked his Kevlar vest and weapon one more time. Maybe he was stupid to feel any sort of hope that she might forgive him, but he liked that he heard concern in her voice. It meant she still cared. “I started this and I’m seeing it through.” Not to mention he couldn’t let any of these men head into a situation where he wasn’t willing to go himself.

He didn’t personally know any of the men he was working with today. Wesley had handpicked the agents from various special ops outfits for that very reason. No risk of a leak. He recognized two of the men from a classified Delta Force file, so he had no doubt the rest of the men were just as qualified. They’d have to be. Discovering how deep Vargas’s connection was to the Middle East directly impacted national security and the safety of hundreds of thousands of civilians.

Sophie didn’t respond. She leaned back against the table and watched him with those big brown eyes as he adjusted his gear.

“You’ll have video and audio of me at all times,” he added softly.

“I know. It’s just I’m afraid I’ll lose you . . . again.” Her voice cracked and he forced himself to look away from her.

He didn’t know how to respond. They hadn’t resolved shit after last night, but hearing her say those words stripped him completely raw. It gave him the tiniest sliver of hope that just maybe she could forgive him. “Sophie, I . . . I’ll see you soon,” he managed to rasp out.

Avoiding her gaze, he turned and strode across the concrete floor. Now was not the time for him to be thinking of anything other than the mission. Fate had a way of taking things away from a person when he least wanted it. He’d seen it too many times before. He’d seen guys get killed in action weeks after their wedding, and he’d witnessed veterans get blown up by a roadside bomb two days before their retirement. It was the way of the world. No matter how much he wanted to be with Sophie, he had to let this play out.

Wesley stood in a semicircle with five other men around one of the tables. They were going over the layout of the other building again. Despite the fact that everyone had gone over the plan more than a dozen times, no one was worried about being overprepared.

As he neared the table, Wesley’s phone rang. His boss pressed the SPEAKER button. “We’re all here.”

“Weller has arrived alone,” the other man said.

“Good. How many men around the perimeter?”

“Same as before. Three total. Two static, one roving at four-minute intervals.”

Three wasn’t bad—though he knew there’d be a lot more men inside. The only problem Jack could foresee was taking down the roving man by surprise. Each hangar sat alone with a little less than a hundred yards in between any two. They had to get to him before he could contact anyone on the inside and they had to take down the other two men without that guy realizing it. Everything came down to precise timing.

“We’ve got visual contact,” one of the analysts shouted from a few yards away.

“Everyone, you know what to do.” Wesley’s words were all they needed to hear.

Everyone moved into position and Jack resisted the urge to look back at Sophie before falling in line with the other men. He couldn’t afford that kind of distraction.

•   •   •

Sweat rolled down Ronald’s back and face as he arrived at the hangar. Despite the air-conditioning blasting in his car, he couldn’t cool down. Before he could decide if he should park outside, one of the men standing guard banged on the side of the metal building.

Instantly the oversized hangar door rolled back, giving him just enough room to drive through. The man waved him by. He glanced in the rearview mirror and watched the door slam shut. The sound echoed loudly even in the enclosed vehicle.

Dread was a live thing inside him, bringing his body temperature up a few more degrees. He wiped his face with a napkin before getting out of the car and ordered himself to keep his shit together. This wasn’t about him right now.

Immediately one of Vargas’s men frisked him from ankles to shoulders. Then he ran a wand over his entire body. When nothing beeped, the tense knot in his belly loosened a fraction. Not much, but suddenly his chest wasn’t as tight either. Looked as though the NSA’s technology worked. He could do this.

He
had
to do this.

In addition to half a dozen armed men lounging around on crates, a small Cessna and two black SUVs were in the hangar. So far there was no sign of Vargas.

Ronald turned to the man who had just frisked him. “Where’s your boss?”

The man grunted and nodded toward the plane. As if on cue, the stairs extended and out walked Vargas and two heavily armed men. “You’re late.”

Ronald didn’t have to glance at his watch to know the other man was wrong. “Where’s my daughter?” The question came out shakier than he’d intended. He’d spoken to her on the phone but still couldn’t believe he would be seeing her soon.

Vargas paused halfway down the stairs, lifted a hand dismissively, and one of his men turned back inside.

A few seconds later, Holly and a familiar-looking Asian woman came through the hatch. They were both dressed almost identically, in jeans and plain white T-shirts. Holly’s eyes widened when she saw him, but she didn’t say anything. He couldn’t see any bruises, so he silently prayed both of them were unharmed.

“You ready to do business?” Vargas’s voice jerked his gaze away from his daughter’s.

Ronald focused on Vargas as he walked toward him. His expensive-looking loafers made snapping sounds as he walked across the concrete floor, echoing and bouncing off the vaulted ceiling.

“Who’s the other woman?” Ronald asked when Vargas stood a foot away from him.

Vargas ignored him and looked to the man on the left of Ronald.

“He’s clean, boss.”

Vargas looked back at him. “No more questions. We’re finishing this now. Then you can go back to your life.”

“Let my daughter go first. Then I’ll sign whatever you want.” It wasn’t part of the plan, but his only concern was getting his daughter to safety. Now that he’d seen with his own eyes that she was alive, he didn’t care about anything else. Including his own life.

Vargas’s dark eyes narrowed as he took him in from head to foot. “Or I could break every bone in her body and let you watch. I have been very patient up until now. Do not test me.”

Mouth dry, Ronald could only nod. There were men watching his every move, he reminded himself. He wasn’t alone.

“Good.” Vargas turned and motioned toward one of the armed men leaning against two stacked crates. “Rico, get off your lazy ass.”

Immediately the man grabbed a suitcase sitting on top of one of the wooden boxes and strode toward them. As if from thin air, another of his men appeared with a folding card table and two folding chairs. Moments later Ronald was sitting across from the only man he’d ever wanted to kill.

Vargas riffled through a few of the papers, then slid them across the table. “Sign these.”

Ronald quickly scanned the documents. Vargas wanted him to authorize a lot of flights. A lot of
unusual
flight paths. The kind Ronald would have to personally sign off on. SBMS didn’t travel to the Sudan often, and Djibouti held an American military base. “Why do you need to go to these places? I thought you ran cocaine.”

Instead of responding, Vargas turned toward one of the men and said something in Spanish that Ronald didn’t understand. Without question, the man turned and strode in the direction of his daughter and the other woman.

“Wait.” Instinctively Ronald’s hand flew out and grasped Vargas’s arm.

Vargas shouted something else and the man froze. His eyes traveled to Ronald’s grip.

Ronald immediately let his hand drop. “You’re going to kill me anyway.” His words were spoken so low there was no way Holly could hear.

The drug lord’s jaw clenched, but then he shrugged. “I’m picking up a delivery for an associate of mine in the Sudan.”

“What about Djibouti?” Ronald knew he was pushing, but he had nothing to lose.

“Why all the questions?”

“I want to know before I die. I deserve that much.”

Again, Vargas didn’t negate that he would eventually kill him. His mouth curved into a cruel smile. “Djibouti will be a testing ground before we introduce a new
strain
of war against your weak country.” He said the words proudly, as if bragging.

Other than a few poor shantytowns, there was an American military base in Djibouti. “War?”

“Your country grows weaker every day. They can’t keep out my drugs and they won’t be able to keep out, what does your government call it . . . biological warfare. A stupid term for the plague.”

“Plague?” Ronald asked dumbly.

Vargas pounded a fist on the table, causing some of the papers to shift. “Enough. Sign now and your daughter will not suffer.”

With a shaking hand, Ronald picked up the pen and began authorizing what could kill thousands. Hundreds of thousands.

It didn’t matter, though. Wesley and Jack promised it wouldn’t matter in the end. They wanted to find out who Vargas was working with, but they said if things got too dicey they’d storm the place.

So why weren’t they here yet? As he authorized the last change, sweat dripped from his forehead onto the paper, smearing some of the ink.

Vargas snatched it from him just as he lifted the pen. Then he glanced to his right at one of his men. With a tilt of Vargas’s head, the other man headed toward the women.

Panic settled deep in Ronald’s gut, twisting like a rusty blade. Where the hell were those guys? This situation qualified as bad to him. “What are you going to do with us?” he asked.

“Kill you. You will not suffer, though.” He stood as he spoke.

One of the men grabbed the chair Ronald was in, forcing him to stand.

Ronald waited with barely concealed impatience as the guard walked toward him, gripping both women by their upper arms. “What do you want me to do with this one?” The man shoved the Asian woman toward Vargas but didn’t release his tight grasp.

Even Ronald could see how much pain the woman must be in. The man squeezed her small arm so fiercely, red stained down her skin.

Vargas stared at her for a long moment. “Keep this one alive for now. We might need her later if the Moreno woman decides to show her face.”