She paced, biting her nails like an anxious child rather than an operative who had been down the road of waiting for word countless times.
When they heard someone coming down the hall, both she and her father grabbed their weapons, but not quickly enough.
—:—
Nothing about Alegria’s involvement sat right with Mantis. If anyone other than a K19 senior partner had told him she was in Islamabad with her father, he would have been certain they were walking into a trap.
“She and her father are in a suite on the top floor,” said Gunner. “You wanna go along or let us handle it?”
Without answering, Mantis opened the door of the SUV when it pulled up to the front of the hotel.
“Wait,” said Striker, handing him a protective vest. “Put this on, and we’ll be right behind you.”
Gunner, Striker, and Diesel followed him inside while Ranger stayed with the vehicle.
The elevator door closed with only Mantis inside; the other three men would separate, each taking a different route to the top floor, as was their standard procedure.
When the elevator door closed behind him, Mantis drew his weapon, knowing nothing was ever as easy as it appeared, particularly when his gut was telling him something was off. The fact that Striker had insisted he wear the bullet-proof vest was evidence that he was equally concerned.
He crept down the hallway with his body pressed up against the wall, gun drawn. The fear and anxiety-driven adrenaline felt like a thousand fire ants crawling over his body. When he rounded the corner to where the suite was, he saw its door was open. He made eye contact with both Gunner and Striker, who were approaching from different directions.
Striker got there first and kicked the door the rest of the way in. With guns drawn, the three entered the suite. Near the window, they could see Pierre Mondreau, gagged and bound, head slouched, and blood dripping from his scalp. Gunner motioned for Mantis to check Pierre’s condition while he systematically checked the other rooms.
“All clear,” Gunner announced. “What is his condition?”
“He’s alive,” Mantis reported as he untied Alegria’s father. The man groaned and opened his eyes.
“A woman. Alegria,” he muttered before losing consciousness again.
“Call for backup and a bus,” he heard Gunner shout.
—:—
The cot where Alegria had been deposited with her hands and feet bound, she estimated, was twenty or thirty feet from where Special Agent Kilbourne was conversing with a man she guessed was a close advisor to Abdul Ghafor.
The first thing she overheard was that two separate K19 teams had successfully extracted Dutch as well as intercepted Mantis and stopped him from offering himself in exchange for Dutch’s release. Rather than support her op, Doc had mounted his own. Subsequently, given there was no longer a need for his help, the money Alegria’s father had negotiated to pay Ghafor for their release had been withdrawn, and she’d been kidnapped instead—most likely in an effort to get the money transfer reinstated.
What Alegria hadn’t been able to figure out was what Kilbourne was doing here. Had she been turned and was now working for the Islamic State, or was this all part of a mission designed to infiltrate and bring the organization down? If so, it meant that the agency would know Kilbourne’s whereabouts, and as soon as they could make it happen without blowing the operative’s cover, Alegria would be rescued.
—:—
Abdul Ghafor answered Mantis’ call on the first ring.
“Ah, if it isn’t the little insect calling. What can I do for you, you bastard?”
“What do you want, Abdul? Ten million? It’s done.”
“Ten? Is that all this pretty little bird is worth to you? Granted, her wings have been clipped, so perhaps she’s lost some of her value.”
How did Ghafor know Alegria hadn’t been cleared to fly? Who in the hell was feeding him information?
“Name your price.”
“One hundred million.”
Mantis closed his eyes and shook his head. “The United States Government does not negotiate with terrorists nor do they pay ransom,” he answered by rote.
“Your government has nothing to do with this. I’ll wait for your call. Unless it is to tell me you have my money, don’t bother. You have four hours.”