Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 10) (19 page)

Nothing.

He tried her cell number.

No luck.

Tapping his earpiece, he contacted Cruzie, who was down in the lobby with Vance, and kept trying. “Get security up here with someone who can unlock the safe.
Now
.”

“You got it.”

The wait was agonizing. While the others searched the entire room and came up empty he kept punching in code after code, everything he could think of that might be sentimental to her. Their address. The day they’d gotten engaged. Her favorite numbers.

Nothing worked.

“We’re on our way up,” Cruzie announced.

Thank God. “
Hurry
.”

“You know it.”

A minute later they were at the door, practically carrying a middle-aged man who was red-faced and panting, no doubt from trying to keep pace with them up all the stairs.

Adam grabbed him and hauled him over to the safe. “Open it,” he commanded, wishing he could just pry the fucking thing open with his bare hands.

Pulling out a master key, the man did as he said. The moment it popped open, Adam hauled him back out of the way and shoved a hand inside it without looking while Vance escorted the man out into the hall.

His fingers touched something cool and smooth. He pulled out the framed picture, a spear of grief hitting him when he saw the familiar shot of them together in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

They looked so happy, so in love. It touched him deeply to know she still took it with her wherever she went.

Inside with it he found her passport, some cash…

And a file folder.

Adrenaline sliced through him. He grabbed the file, flipped it open and quickly perused the contents. Her emphasized message played in his mind.
In the first place.

The first place mentioned in the file?

He scanned the document, looking for a location.

And found it at the end of the third paragraph.

Northern Shuneh.

Was that it? Was that where she was? He pulled out his phone and immediately reported everything to Foster and DeLuca, still back at the command center. The area mentioned wasn’t a big place. “Can you get a satellite or drone in there?”

“You sure this is what she was trying to tell you?” Foster asked.

“Yes. Has to be.” He couldn’t calm his heart rate. The deadline was just over nine hours away. He wanted eyes in the sky on that location
now
.

“All right. I’ll make it happen.”

Adam closed his eyes, expelled a hard sigh. “
Thank
you.”

Foster grunted. “Don’t thank me yet, it may be another dead end. And there’s a weather front moving in, possibly a sand storm. Even if I can get the resources we want, we’re looking at a tight window to utilize them.”

“I understand.” It couldn’t be a dead end. He knew it was right. And there had to be enough time to find them.

Summer’s life depended on it and this time, he wasn’t going to let her down.

Only two hours in, and the video was already going viral.

Tarek ended his call with an ATB contact who had uploaded and broadcast everything for him, a hacker who had proved himself highly useful over the past few weeks. Even if the intelligence agencies hunting for them managed to find their location, it wouldn’t be until after they were gone.

He turned to Akram. “It’s working.” Even better than he’d anticipated.

The female captive had performed beautifully. She’d delivered the scripted message he’d given her, then added a short personal message to her husband. The end result was perfect. The sight of her bound and helpless, staring into the camera while she gave that sad little speech would tug on heartstrings all over the world.

It would make the global reaction to tomorrow’s executions even more spectacular.

The younger man grinned broadly at him. “I know. I just talked to one of our media reps a few minutes ago. Cable news networks all around the world are picking it up already.”

“Good.” Now all that was left to do was make the final preparations and stick to the timeline he’d set. “Is everything else ready?”

Akram nodded, but looked away, clearly uneasy. Tarek knew his friend wasn’t comfortable with what was coming, but that was because he had no stomach for such things. Akram preferred to work behind the scenes with logistics and personnel, resupply and finances.

Tarek wouldn’t hold his lack of bloodlust against him. In truth, he’d been much like Akram before the war started. He’d seen killing as a necessary part of his military service, but only against an armed combatant.

Growing up, his parents had raised him in a loving home, imparting on him a strong sense of right and wrong along with a kinder, gentler interpretation of the Holy Quran and its teachings than he followed now.

All of it had burned to ash the night they’d been killed. In the wake of that tragedy, a new man had risen from the ashes like a metaphorical phoenix. He didn’t miss the old him. He was stronger now, wiser, and understood better how the world really worked.

He picked up the small video camera on the table before him, resolved in his course of action. “We’ll save the woman for last.”

“So all three will be…” Akram trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Tarek was growing annoyed by the hesitation. “Yes, all three,” he said curtly. “But the woman last. It will have the most impact that way.” The most shock value. The entire world would be holding its breath, praying he would spare her.

They were in for a huge disappointment.

When Akram continued to stand there shifting his weight from one foot to the other with a troubled frown on his face, Tarek sighed and set the camera down. “What is it?”

Akram rubbed the back of his neck. “I always thought the plan was to sell her. With her being young and American and considering her position at the intelligence agency, there would be many buyers interested. She would have gone for a fair price and you know we could use the money. Our supplies and ammunition stores are running low.”

Only until they got back to Syria, which was in a matter of hours from now. “After this, the money will come pouring in,” he told his friend, completely confident in the course he’d set. “Once our supporters around the world see this, and see the power we wield, they’ll send us more money than we’ll know what to do with.”

The ATB would make good use of it, dividing it amongst its groups. And since he’d been the one to plan and orchestrate this whole thing, he’d likely be promoted right away. Maybe even to field commander, a position he’d wanted for a long time.

“She makes me uneasy,” Akram murmured at last, glancing toward the door as though he could see her at the far end of the building.

He snorted. “She’s a female trapped behind bars with no weapon. How could she possibly make you uneasy?”

Akram paused a moment before answering. “There’s something about the look in her eyes. Other female captives we’ve taken, their spirits are broken after a while. Not her. She’s far from broken. And whenever she looks at me I can tell she’s thinking about killing me. Just like the ones who fight with the Peshmerga.”

Tarek made a scoffing sound. “That’s ridiculous. She’s an analyst, not a soldier.” She probably had next to no weapons or hand-to-hand combat training at all.

“It’s not just me,” Akram protested. “The others feel the same, that if she could get her hands on a gun, she’d kill as many of us as she could before we took her out.” He mock shuddered. “None of us want to be killed by a woman, it would be the ultimate shame for warriors like us. And you know it would also mean we wouldn’t get into heaven.”

Tarek knew of the superstition circulating through the ranks, but usually it was the uneducated guys who bought into that crap. Though he personally dismissed the idea as ridiculous, he couldn’t deny that a tiny part of him wasn’t willing to ignore it entirely and risk taking that chance. Just in case it happened to be true.

“Well she’s not getting a weapon, so don’t worry. And she might have been strong up until now but everyone has a breaking point, believe me. She’s going to reach hers in the morning.” Part of him almost felt bad for her in a way, for the suffering she was going to endure.

Almost.

Akram nodded, his worried expression clearing slightly. “What else do you need me to do?”

“Take the suits to the other prisoners. I’ll deliver the female’s myself.”

Taking the neatly folded garment from the table, he left the room and walked across the open space of the old, abandoned building. The woman’s cell was at the very back of the building, deep in the shadows.

But the moment he stepped out of the room he could see the glowing red numbers of the digital clock attached to the bars. A little under eight hours remained in the countdown.

He flipped on a floodlight. The beam lit up the cell, showing her slumped in the corner. It was bright as daylight now but she didn’t awaken, exhaustion finally having caught up with her.

She’d actually held up surprisingly well under the harsh conditions thus far. With barely any sleep, little food or water and their execution imminent, he’d seen plenty of so-called tough men crack and beg for their lives.

But not this woman. That annoyed him even as he had to grudgingly respect it.

“Wake up,” he snapped out.

Her head came up, her eyes opening a fraction. She flinched at the brightness, threw up a hand to shield her eyes. He stepped into the high-powered beam, cutting off the worst of the blinding effect, and strode over to the cell door.

Then he paused and waited for her to look at him.

It didn’t take long. She shifted, moving stiffly, and swiveled around to look up at him. Her expression was neutral, giving nothing away, but there was an unmistakable mixture of hatred and resentment in those light green eyes.

Feelings he returned tenfold for her and all her countrymen, but especially for the people involved in and behind the scenes of this war.

Staring down at her, he thought of the picture he carried in his pocket. He kept it with him always. Of Lely and him, a week before she’d been killed.

They’d just gotten engaged. His father had taken the picture after they’d made the announcement following a family dinner. He’d met her at the university, when she was in her first year and he’d been about to graduate as a teacher. Before that day he hadn’t believed in love at first sight, but after meeting her, he’d become a convert.

Lely had been such a sweet, caring person. A devoted sister, daughter and friend and he’d loved her so much. He’d have done anything to protect her, make her happy, and had been so looking forward to spending the rest of his life with her.

Then her life had been cut short. Far too short. And that dream, his heart and his world had been blown apart in a matter of seconds.

She’d been just twenty-three years old when she died. For a while afterward he’d wished he’d been with her that night, that he’d been killed alongside her. It hadn’t been until weeks later that he’d come to see the reason he’d survived. Out of the smoldering ruins of that dream, a harder, cynical Tarek had been born.

That night had changed him forever. But he knew this was what God wanted for him.

It ate at his soul like acid that this enemy female infidel was alive and healthy before him now, sent here to wage war against him and his brothers by her government when his beloved had been killed by one of their bombs.

“Less than eight hours left,” he told her, taking great pleasure in the sudden tension in her posture. “It’s too late for anyone to find you now. No one’s coming for you.”

“When my government finds and kills you, I hope you burn in hell,” she fired back.

Her choice of words amused him. “Long after you,” he assured her. But Akram was right. This one had more spirit than most. And there was definitely something in her eyes that sent a tiny frisson of unease down his backbone, even if he’d never admit it aloud.

“Tarek!”

He turned at Akram’s voice. His friend was rushing toward him, all out of breath. Tarek frowned. “What is it?”

Akram slowed and bent over to catch his breath before answering. “There’s a new weather update. The latest front coming in is growing stronger. A sandstorm has already started southwest of us. It’s already big but it’s getting bigger. It might knock out power and disrupt communications.”

The video was key. He needed to film the executions and get across the border as soon as possible. The storm was narrowing their window, but it might also help provide cover for them to escape once the deed was done. Drones and satellites would have a hard time tracking them through a sandstorm.

Tarek thinned his lips. “How long do we have?”

“Four or five hours. At most.”

That put them in a serious time crunch.

Pulse accelerating, he faced the female captive. And smiled. Let her try and stay brave in the face of this. “Make that only four hours left.” He tossed the clothing he’d been holding through the bars.

When she saw the orange jumpsuit lying in the dirt her already pale face blanched of all color, telling him she knew what it signified. That she was truly afraid. She would have seen the videos of former captives wearing them during their own executions. And right now she was wondering what form hers would take.

He took out his knife, held it up in the light so that the lethal edge to the blade flashed like silver. Just to scare her even more.

A heady wave of anticipation swelled inside him. Sliding the blade back into its sheath he folded his arms across his chest and stood staring down at her, feeding off her fear. This was for Lely. For his family. “Put that on. We have a tight schedule to keep.”

In a matter of hours she and the others would be dead—Americans working for the same war machine that had killed Lely and his family. He would finally have not only revenge, but the respect he’d wanted for so long from the high-ranking members of the ATB. The entire world would loathe and fear him.

Then, once it was done, he and his men would melt back across the border like ghosts and arrive to a heroes’ welcome by their ATB brothers, more determined than ever to win this war.