The commander frowned. “He has connections in a lot of places. More than we even know at this point. He may have been tipped off that the U.S. government is tracking him. He may be onto us.” The admiral stood and paced the office for several moments, contemplating what the commander had just said. They had barely started operations with the undercover unit in Hebbronville, and already there were problems.
With a heavy sigh, he sat down and the commander spoke again. “We don’t know who he is, but we think we know where he is. We’ve had a few people indicate that a man of average build and height had come in for an appointment with each one of our victims prior to their death. One characteristic mentioned over and over again has been that he wears a ring with a scorpion on it. Then most of the people say he looked nice, or professional, or other vague observations that help us very little.”
A fluorescent light above them buzzed and made a soft popping sound, and the light flickered. It wasn’t helping the admiral’s mood any. He was already nearly blinded by the all-white interior of his office that he’d tried his best to cover with framed diplomas and certificates to break the monotony. And the temperature in the office was so fickle, it would go from freezing to sweltering in a matter of thirty minutes. At the moment, it was close to sweltering, and he could feel sweat rolling down his back. But part of that had to do with the report he was receiving.
“This type of ring is one of a kind. Here’s a sketch of it that one of the associates of a victim provided. We’ve been doing some research. We’ve found a man who wears a ring like this, and we’re pretty sure he’s a match for our ghost.”
“Are you telling me you have an idea who this man is? Spit it out. Tell me who your ghost is.” He needed good news. He needed actionable news.
“Benicio Davila. He’s the leader of a drug cartel in Mexico called the Scorpions.”
Admiral Haslett leaned back in his chair, digesting the information. “You mean to tell me all the technology and information we’ve been losing has been going to a drug cartel?” Just that week they’d received notice that one of the largest tech corporations in America had been hacked and that key data and technology applications had been stolen.
“Yes. We intercepted some of their communications… They’re using the applications and data that were stolen from us to help move their product secretly. They’re using some of the stolen encryption and coding techniques, but it goes far beyond what we’ve seen before from the NSA. They obviously have a very talented coder on their side. And even if we were able to raid the cartel, the odds of catching Davila are slim.”
Admiral Haslett frowned and looked at the file he had opened on his laptop, full of gruesome pictures of men who had been murdered for their knowledge, apparently only to gain intel and technology to further the operations of a drug cartel. Most of them were low-level tech guys from various companies. Others were high-ranking corporate officers, which he supposed was intended to frighten other companies into handing over their information. No, something didn’t add up. The cartels were getting more sophisticated, he knew that. The military had been battling their encryption codes for years already. There was more behind this. They needed to find out what it was and stop it immediately. And he knew who to use to make it happen.
“Thank you, Commander. I’ll review this information and determine next steps.” He stood and the commander also stood, sharply saluting him before turning on his heel and leaving the room quickly. Admiral Haslett shook his head, looked back at the images on his computer, and sighed heavily. This project was going to require specific skills and talents, things that weren’t easy to find. But he knew exactly where to get what he needed.
* * *
He had been sweating bullets from the moment he had set foot on the property. Getting around the security system had been one of the most complicated jobs ever. But that was why they paid him so well.
The house had significant foliage around it, making it hard to see how large it really was. He had been about to creep up on the house to get a few pictures when the sound of hooves pounding the ground forced him to dive for cover.
A man came riding up toward him, and for a moment he feared he’d been found. But the man was focused on the woman in his arms, who appeared to be asleep. He saw his opportunity and took it, getting several pictures of the two of them. The man who’d hired him for the job would certainly be pleased.
He was even able to snap a few photos of the men who greeted them at the large door before it was closed firmly. He sat back on his haunches and smiled. He would follow the girl. Obviously she meant something to these men—or at least the one man in particular. And if she meant something to them, the man who hired him would appreciate pictures of her. Which meant he could ask for more money.
* * *
“You want to tell me what has all of you acting so tense?” Stryker asked after his cold shower. The men had finished cleaning the kitchen and gathered around the dining room table, talking among themselves. From the tone, he could tell it wasn’t the best news.
“There have been more murders.” Phantom watched him closely, playing with a rubber band in his hands.
“On American soil?”
“And Mexican soil. But there’s a good chance it was the same killer.”
“How did you come across this information?”
“News articles and messages I discovered this morning while digging around online,” Buzz said. “The messages were posted on dark web message boards, though they weren’t encrypted. It was almost as if amateurs were jumping on and talking to each other. The news articles just came out this morning, but it was only because of what I had already read on the dark web that I could connect the murders.”
“This is why we’re here. We’re supposed to get ahead of this type of thing before it becomes a major issue.” Stryker sat at the head of the table, running a hand wearily down his face. He had already been up for hours. But the work never stopped, not when you were on a mission.
“Haslett hasn’t contacted us…yet. I have a feeling we’ll be hearing from him soon, though,” Brusco said in his deep, gravelly voice.
“Two low-level tech guys from a major software company were murdered a couple of days ago. The more I dug, the more information I discovered. Their company had been hacked shortly before their deaths. They must have gotten too close to figuring out who did it.”
“Do we know who did it?”
“Not yet, sir. But I believe it’s someone from within Mexico. Just a few days prior to these murders, another two men were killed in Mexico in what appeared to be an unusual drug transaction.” Buzz folded his hands together on top of the dining room table.
“Unusual, how?”
“It appears they were tortured first. Usually with drug cartels, the transactions are quick, and you either live through them or you’re shot between the eyes. Torture is usually only a form of retribution or retaliation against a rival,” Santo said, his voice tense. “For these two to have been tortured during the course of a transaction…” He shrugged. “It doesn’t seem to make any sense. Hell, none of this makes any sense.”
“What other information do we have?”
“That’s it so far. But things are heating up. If the murders are connected, we’re going to have to take action, and soon. Our government won’t sit still for long if there is a murderer crossing the border.” Phantom frowned deeply.
“I’ll get in touch with Haslett. There may be information to connect all this. In the meantime, keep alert, all of you. Buzz, try to dig into those messages on the dark web further and see what else you can discover.”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison. Stryker’s muscles bunched with tension. A new mission was headed their way, and soon. He could feel it.
* * *
The days went by quickly. Between clinic hours and late-night calving emergencies, Anya wasn’t
getting more than four or five hours of sleep a night. She knew she needed to get some genuine sleep soon, or her faculties would become impaired. She was tempted to close the clinic for a day just to sleep. Sleep would come on Sunday, she kept reminding herself. It was the one day of the week she’d close the clinic and enjoy a little personal time.
Her first calving call for the day had come in early Saturday night. It was six o’clock and the rancher was worried his heifer had been in labor for nearly four hours. Anya tried to reassure him over the phone that it was completely normal for a first-time mother to be in labor longer than the more seasoned heifers, but he wasn’t going to feel comfortable until she came to check and make sure things were progressing normally.
Anya had driven out to the ranch, of course. The heifer progressed naturally, and she instructed the rancher just to stand back and watch. An hour later, a new calf was born and the rancher was breathing a sigh of relief.
It was after eight when Anya climbed back into her bed and instantly fell into a much-needed sleep. At ten o’clock, her phone rang and she fumbled for it in the dark. “Dr. Gutierrez,” she managed to say, her voice husky.
“Anya, it’s Stryker.”
Instantly, she was awake and her heart was racing. He had occupied her thoughts all week long. She had even dreamed of riding with him again, wrapped in his warm arms. But this time she’d been awake as she’d allowed him to kiss her neck and had even pivoted in his arms to allow his full lips to capture hers. Had he truly kissed her neck when she had been there on Monday? Or was it all just a figment of her imagination?
“Stryker…what is it?” She was sitting up, running her fingers through her hair quickly as she searched for her boots at the foot of the bed.
“It’s another one of the heifers you were worried about. She’s only been in labor for a few hours, but already I can tell there’s going to be a problem.”
“I’m on my way.” Excitement to see Stryker again had wiped the fogginess of sleep from her mind, and she maneuvered her truck down the old dirt road to reach his ranch quickly. Same as last time, he was on horseback when she arrived, and she didn’t hesitate to reach up for his hand when she approached him.
Most of the other ranches she visited had four-wheelers to drive around in the thick south Texas brush, but Stryker seemed partial to his horse, and she wasn’t about to complain. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she gripped his forearm as they galloped through the brush and the trees, headed to the site where he had last seen the heifer.
They were fortunate enough to have a nearly full moon, which cast its glow down upon their path. It also caused shadows to jump out where she least expected, and Anya clung even tighter to Stryker’s arm. During calving season, one of the biggest obstacles they faced was the abundance of coyotes prowling for young, helpless calves.
He slowed as they drew near, and she saw a heifer pacing back and forth, swishing her tail in agitation. “What made you concerned?” Anya asked before they dismounted.
“She’s been bleeding. But there doesn’t appear to be any amniotic fluid, which is good, right?”
“Yes, that’s good. But I’m concerned about the bleeding. She may be tearing from the size of the calf.”
He dismounted quickly and turned to lift her down. They moved to the heifer slowly, but the heifer was already trying to lie down. Anya stopped walking, afraid to disturb the cow until it settled into a position so it could attempt to give birth. But she saw the blood trailing down its hindquarters and leg, and frowned. The placenta could be tearing away from the uterine wall, which would explain the blood.
The heifer had settled on the ground and was breathing heavily. “I need to examine her,” Anya said, looking up at Stryker. “Will you hold her the same as you did the last one?”
He nodded, then took up his position, pinning the cow’s head and neck to the ground. Anya moved in slowly, sliding on her long, latex gloves. She kneeled down behind the heifer and shifted her tail to the side. The cervix was fully dilated, and it was obvious her body was prepared to give birth.
Going by touch alone, Anya eased her arm into the birth canal and finally touched something. It was a tail. “The calf is in a breech position,” Anya said softly. “I’m going to have to try to turn it.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Just keep holding her down. This is going to be very uncomfortable for her.” Anya focused on finding the legs of the calf, and slowly began to manipulate its position, carefully pulling the head forward as soon as she could reach it. “She’s just about in the right position—”
“Anya! Look out!”
The words hadn’t left his mouth before she saw the heifer lifting her hoof to kick. It was normal, especially given that what Anya was doing to her was incredibly painful. She jerked backwards to avoid the flying hoof, tripped over a large rock, and gasped as she fell backwards, unable to regain her balance.
“Anya—”
His words were cut off as pain exploded in her head. The ground had rushed up to greet her, knocking the air from her lungs. She didn’t know what she had hit her head on, but it was hard and unforgiving. Nausea instantly rolled through her stomach as the pain gripped her head in a vise.
Bright explosions went off on the inside of her eyelids as she struggled to draw in air. She could hear Stryker talking to her, but the pain was blinding. Finally, she was able to draw in a few breaths and force her eyes open.
Stryker was holding her in his lap, his face creased with concern. “Anya, answer me, please.”
“Stryker,” she gasped out. She saw momentary relief cross his face, but then he turned her head to examine the damage.
“Looks like that rock caught your fall. You hit your head really hard. You’re going to have one helluva bruise.”
“Thank my lucky stars for all my hair.” She attempted to be lighthearted about the entire situation, but pain lanced through her when she tried to smile.
Anya struggled to sit up, but Stryker held firm. “Not so fast. You nearly cracked your head open. You scared the shit out of me. You need to stay still for a little while.”
“Stryker, I’m fine. Just… just hold on to me in case I’m a little dizzy, will you?”
Stryker frowned, but nodded in agreement and helped her to her feet. She wavered for a moment, but then found some stability, though she was immensely grateful for Stryker’s hands on her waist. Then she gasped in surprise.
“See? There was no need to rush,” Stryker murmured against her ear. The heifer was licking its newborn calf, her eyes closed in motherly bliss.
“I’m so glad you called me when you did. We would have lost both of them if you hadn’t.” She carefully removed her latex gloves and wondered why everything looked so fuzzy. The dizziness was back, more vicious than ever. She needed to grab ahold of something… She needed him.
She lifted her head and slowly pivoted toward Stryker, reaching for him. “Stryker…” And everything went black.
* * *
Stryker caught Anya as she fell, curse words streaming from his lips. Holding her gently in his arms, he mounted his horse and took off at a fast walk, so as not to jar her any more than necessary, heading back to the house as fast as he could. He cradled her in his arms, trying to absorb the impact of each of the horse’s steps himself to buffer her.
It seemed like hours, but only about fifteen minutes later, he was at the house and carrying her into one of the spare bedrooms. By the lamplight, she looked so incredibly pale, and his heart clenched.
He hated to leave her, but he needed help. He hurried down the corridor to Phantom’s room and rapped on the door lightly. Within moments, Phantom was at the door, peering through the small slit that Stryker had insisted be placed on every door in the house. If they were going to be attacked in their own home, at least they could see who was coming.
“Shit, Stryker,” he said as he opened his door. “Do you know what time it is? You’re lucky I looked through the hole first.” He walked back to his bed, no longer trying to conceal the sidearm that he held in his right hand. He opened his nightstand drawer and carefully placed it inside.
“I need your help.” The urgency in Stryker’s voice grabbed Phantom’s attention, and he hesitated in closing the drawer.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“It’s Anya. She’s out cold. She doesn’t look good.”
“Shit.” Phantom closed his nightstand drawer and didn’t bother wasting time to get dressed. He followed Stryker out in just his boxer shorts.
“She took quite a tumble. I heard the thud of her head hitting the rock. The back of her head is bleeding only a little, but she’s awfully pale.”
In the short time that he’d been away from her, there had been little change. She still lay in the same position Stryker had placed her in. And she was unnaturally pale. Phantom nudged him aside so he could look at Anya, and frowned. “Help me turn her on her side, so I can look at the back of her head. Be careful.”
Together they rolled her slowly to her side, and Phantom felt along the back of her head until he found the bump. He examined it carefully, then let out a sigh. “Damn. It’s a bad one, but I’ve seen worse. And”—he hesitated, his fingers feeling up and down her neck—“it doesn’t appear she injured her neck. We should still be careful moving her, though, at least until you can wake her.”
Stryker ran his hands through his hair in frustration. The closest hospital was over an hour away. But he trusted Phantom’s assessment over any doctor’s anyway. Phantom had served in medical for the first few years he was a SEAL, before they’d discovered he was a very talented strategist and could plan out just about any mission they wanted. Ever since then, he’d been their tactical ground operations specialist, and he had thrived in the role. But for now, he was the best medical help Anya could get.
A SEAL Never Quits Page 6
