“Ninety-eight H, we need you north of Damascus.”
He slammed a fist on the steering wheel. That was him, Ninety-eight H, no longer a person but a code name in an elite yet disposable team, and right now boots on the ground totaled one. His skill alone had kept him alive up until now but his odds of survival had dropped to zero. “Copy. Have you lost your mind? They beheaded Ninety-eight G and I’m next. I want an evac bird ASAP.”
“General Parkes’ daughter, Annie, has been kidnapped by rebel militia from outside the US Embassy in Israel. We know her location and I’m sending you to do an extraction. They’re holding her in an old hotel. It’s five hundred clicks from your current location. If extraction is impossible, you are ordered to terminate. Do you copy?”
“Yeah, I copy but I don’t do mercy killing. I’ll get her out, whatever the cost.” Dragging a hand down his sweat-soaked face, he grit his teeth. “Is my team close by?”
“Negative on that. It’s a no-fly zone, so get the package and make your way to Turkey. We’ll evac from there. You know the deal: We don’t negotiate with terrorists, so time is limited. Head north. I’ll send you the coordinates and guide you around the checkpoints. You’ll only be in communication with me. The line is secure. Move your ass, soldier.”
“You’re planning on sending me in alone to drag a young woman halfway across a hostile country without papers or money?” Ninety-eight H shook his head. “I’m a sniper. I kill people. I don’t rescue privileged jackasses.”
“You do now. Suck it up.”
Chapter Three
A cold wind blew through the boards covering the window, sending goosebumps over Annie’s flesh. Inside the dim room, only thin shafts of sunlight illuminated the filthy floor surrounding the single chair the two bad-smelling men had tied her to. So thirsty that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and with her head thumping in time to the beating of her heart, she stared around the room. Where the hell was she? The last thing she remembered was passing a sign to Hadassah-Helicopters Airfield. She’d driven to the gate and everything after that was blank. The embassy would know by now she’d gone missing. She’d called her roommate on leaving the embassy
, same as she did every night, as a safety precaution, and by now her dad would know too. She tested the zip ties on her wrists for the hundredth time. They’d been tightened to cut deep into her flesh. Her hands had throbbed at first but had lost all feeling in the last couple of hours.
Shoulders burning from her arms being bound behind her at the elbows, she tried to hunch and relax to keep the blood flowing. She wiggled her toes. Had she been left to die? Maybe not. She could hear footsteps in the room above and she’d called out numerous times. The men she’d seen had been dressed in black but had remained silent, and yet as they’d left her, she’d heard a few words in Arabic. Terrified militant extremists had abducted her, she followed the instructions. She’d read about the chances of that happening and what to do percolated into her mind. Remaining calm and not giving them anything but her name seemed redundant as not a soul had spoken to her since the instruction to drive, all those hours ago. The usual people they grabbed in an attempt to arrange a prisoner exchange were of value to the USA, so why take her? A secretary working in the US Embassy wasn’t much of a bargaining chip and she should have been safe in Israel.
If not to be traded, why else would they kidnap her? The idea of being sold into slavery hit her hard. Her stomach wretched and she tasted bile. At twenty-one, and petite, she’d pass for sixteen and with her natural blonde hair brushing her shoulders, she’d command a good price. Yet, surely if they planned to sell her, they’d at least feed her and allow her to use the bathroom to look presentable. If they had one in this flea-infested nightmare.
Sure her bladder would burst at any moment, she pressed her knees together. The occasional rush of water along a pipe running below the ceiling and disappearing through the wall made it worse. The pipe leaked, and watching the drips falling into to an expanding pool of water was torture. It had been hours since they’d left her alone. Cockroaches as big as mice had run across the floor in a whooshing sound, not one or two but enough to blacken the floor. They’d stopped and eyed her, feelers wiggling, and she’d jerked fiercely and screamed at them, making them run for the dark corners of the room.
Footsteps came from outside, the unmistakable sound of boots on tile. With her back to the door, she didn’t see the men filter into the room but the stink of unwashed bodies preceded them. But it wasn’t a man who moved into her field of vision. It was a woman, dressed in black with a burka covering her face. Only brown eyes rested on her. She stared at her. “Do you speak English?”
“You will not speak unless it is to answer my questions.” The woman’s heavily accented English was faultless. “You are an insult to women. I will allow you to bathe and dress in appropriate clothing. You are not permitted to look at the men and they will not speak to you. Do you understand?”
Annie met her eyes. “Yes, but why am I here?”
The slap across the back of her head knocked her to the floor. She hit the stone slabs hard. Pain jarred through her temple and shot through her shoulder like a steel blade. The cold metal of a knife brushed her arms and wrists as someone cut the ties. Dragged to her feet, the metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and filled her mouth. A defiance her father had told her always to control rose up inside her. They obviously didn’t plan to kill her—not yet anyway—and she’d fight for every last breath rather than cower to terrorists. She spat out the blood filling her mouth from biting her tongue, lifted her chin, and faced the woman again.
“Do you understand?” The woman glared at her.
Head spinning, as the need to defy the woman raged within her, Annie pressed her lips together and nodded. She had no choice. If she wanted to escape, she needed to survive.
“Follow me.” The woman led the way from the room, through a maze of passages and into what resembled a hotel suite.
It was reasonably clean, with a bed and a bathroom, but like the small room she’d occupied before, the windows had been boarded up with old tin signs printed in Arabic. A single light bulb hung from a cord from the ceiling without a shade. On a wooden chair sat a pile of clothes. She stood in the middle of the room and scanned the walls. The expected camera sat high on one wall. So, they’d be watching her. A shiver went up her spine. Why did they want her? What was going to happen to her? She turned as the woman closed the door and stared at her.
“Bathe and dress. Then you will eat. Later we will explain what is expected of you.” The woman indicated to the clothes on the chair. “Take these.” She handed her a bottle of water from one of six on the table. “Do not drink the tap water.”
The room with toilet, shower, and basin was in good condition apart from a rust stain in the sink. She dashed to the toilet and after drinking half a bottle of water, checked out every inch of the room for cameras and found none. They’d supplied her with a toothbrush, paste, shampoo, and soap. Thin towels hung on a rail beside the shower.
The small bathroom window was set high, but by standing on the toilet seat Annie could see the buildings around her. Many had been badly damaged. The streets below seemed empty apart from an army vehicle patrolling the streets. The latest information she’d heard about militants came from Syria. She swallowed hard. If so, there’d be no escape on her own. Terrified and trembling all over, she leaned against the wall, trying to think. She had no choice but to play along for as long as possible and see what happened. Her father, General Abraham Parkes, worked in the White House as an adviser. He’d have been notified the second she went missing. Acting submissive might give him enough time to arrange for her escape.
As she stripped, cold seeped into her bones. The chilled air made the injuries to her shoulder ache. Her fingers resembled thick red sausages and undoing buttons and zips was a nightmare of pain. The taps squeaked as she turned them but thankfully hot water poured out and she stepped underneath, washing as fast as possible. As she ran her hands over her face, she realized her earrings had gone missing as had the gold chain from around her neck. She stepped out of the shower and dried off quickly. After searching a small closet, she discovered a hair dryer, hairbrush, and some feminine products. It was obvious from the selection of items that her captors didn’t consider deodorant, moisturizer, and hair removal essential.
She dried her hair and then checked out the pile of clothes. Thick undergarments to cover her from head to toe, a heavy black kaftan-style dress and a burka to complete the outfit. Obviously, the flat black boots she wore were suitable attire. She rinsed out her bra and panties and hung them to dry alongside the wet towels. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the bedroom expecting to find the woman waiting impatiently, but the room was empty and cold. Hunger gripped Annie’s belly. Exhausted, she sat on the bed and stared at the door convinced her nightmare had just begun.
Chapter Four
Texas
After serving many tours of duty, in the most godforsaken countries in the world, Shane Wolfe had opted for a desk job in communications. He’d become the handler for three operatives, the voice they could trust implicitly to get them out of trouble. His charges, known only by their code names, often operated alone and they needed him, but right now his wife needed him more. As a fully qualified MD, he’d piloted a medevac chopper and saved many lives, but he couldn’t save Angela. Her prognosis was terminal and he planned to spend as much time with her as possible. He had two options: He could hang up his shingle as an MD or he could use his expertise in IT as a computer nerd and sort out people’s problems with their various devices. He had discussed his options with Angela and, as they had three daughters to care for, they’d decided he should work from home. There was a cellar under the house they’d converted into an entertainment area with access to the backyard. It would be perfect but he’d need to get over the next hurdle. After applying to leave on compassionate grounds, he stood in a waiting room for his commanding officer’s decision. His mind drifted to the long sleepless night he’d spent communicating with Ninety-eight H in an attempt to keep his stubborn ass alive.
Ninety-eight H was the best he’d worked with. He’d lost track of the times he’d been dropped alone behind enemy lines, gotten the job done, and vanished like the mist. As a sniper, he never missed, and up to now, he’d protected his spotter. This guy was not only fearless, cold, and seemingly lacking in any human emotion but right now he was seriously pissed off. Yet the orders to send him to evacuate the daughter of a three-star had come from POTUS himself. The office door opened and the desk sergeant stepped out.