Mantis wished he could tell Dutch to shut the hell up too, and in any other circumstance, he probably would have. This was textbook for his best friend.
“This is fun, girls, but I need to get this op set up. So, what I was going to say was I need to know that you’re committed to going in to get Alegria, but leaving Kilbourne to complete her mission. She’s worked damn hard to infiltrate this organization.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” asked Mantis.
“She knows enough to stay out of the way. Keep her safe, but make it look unintentional.”
Mantis could read the way Dutch was processing what Razor had just said. It would be difficult for him to execute the op in that way. His instinct would be to get both Alegria and Malin out of the hands of the Islamic State, but as Striker said, Malin had spent months putting this op together, likely at great cost to the agency. K19 would find themselves in a huge shit storm if they didn’t agree to the terms of this extraction.
“What was she doing in Germany?” Dutch asked.
“Finding you, although not for the CIA; for Safi.”
“I thought she was working for Ghafor.”
“She is.”
Knowing Ghafor as well as Mantis did, it stood to reason he saw that using her to get Dutch would serve a purpose unrelated to the recruitment of women soldiers. Taking out Zamed would have also been high on Abdul’s list of priorities.
“The agency will only give us Ghafor’s twenty if we ensure that whoever tries to interfere will be taken out.”
“Taken out? What the fuck?”
“That’s how serious they are, Dutch,” said Razor. “Those are our orders.”
“Who else is going in?” Mantis asked.
“Just the four of us.”
“So which one of you is gonna handle the kill if I screw up?” Dutch laughed.
“We’ll let Mantis do it,” Razor answered, and he didn’t sound like he was kidding.
—:—
She couldn’t say why, but Alegria knew Kilbourne was working an op. There was nothing the woman had done to give her any
indication she was, but her instincts filled in the blanks.
As far as her treatment, her accommodations weren’t the best, but no one roughed her up. It made sense given Ghafor didn’t want information, but her father’s money. She wasn’t naive enough to think that once he had it she’d be released. She’d seen his vulnerabilities, and that was something he wouldn’t want the world—his enemies in particular—to know.
He was way short on cash, his arsenal was almost depleted, and anyone who knew anything about the Islamic State would know that the only reason they would ever consider recruiting women was if the number of their foot soldiers was low enough to threaten the organization’s existence.
If she was going to survive this, Alegria had to figure out a way to escape.
“Who is that?” she heard a man ask with what she’d guess was a Russian accent. She couldn’t see him from where she was bound and gagged, but something about his voice sounded familiar.
Russian influence with the Islamic State had traditionally been limited to Syria, at least publicly. Who and what they supported behind the veil of covert black ops could be virtually anyone’s guess.
“Ah, if it isn’t the beautiful Alegria,” said the man who had been rumored dead, and then rumored alive again—Sergei Orlov. His being here didn’t necessarily mean Russian involvement, however. Orlov, known in intelligence circles as Oruzhiye or the Gun, contracted with the highest bidder.
Sergei walked over and stroked a finger down her cheek. “I’d heard you were shot.”
Alegria backed away from his touch. “What are you doing here, Orlov?”
He smiled. “There are any number of reasons I might be here, Miss Mondreau. Any number.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Malin watching them. She quickly recovered, but not quickly enough. Alegria wondered if she was the only one who saw it—Orlov being here was somehow a direct threat to Agent Kilbourne.