by S L Shelton
Braun looked at the video again, witnessing the motionless portrait of the macabre.
“No chance whatsoever,” Braun replied emotionlessly.
“At last, it seems you’ve done something right,” Spryte complained bitterly.
“It was a simple task,” Braun replied, swallowing his agitation as he watched his video monitor, seeing the Prince’s security team rush in. They had obviously witnessed the gruesome show on their security feed—the same feed Heinrich was hacked into and watching.
“And what is the status on Gaines?!” Spryte yelled, sending another surge of anger through Braun—it had been Spryte who had ordered the attack on the Farm and Braun’s dispatch to the Middle East. Fortunately, Braun was good at multitasking.
“A CIA jet left the Joint Base at Andrews on the morning of the assault,” Braun replied calmly. “It never arrived at its logged destination of Reykjavík, Iceland.”
On the video feed, Braun watched as a member of the prince’s security team tried to resuscitate the prince—only to receive mouthfuls of tainted blood himself.
“That doesn’t answer my question, Braun,” Spryte replied.
“It means they were most likely taking someone out of the country,” Braun replied as the security man who had given the prince mouth-to-mouth began to demonstrate the same symptoms as the others. “I already have teams working on video footage of airports within the range of the Gulfstream—it will only be a matter of time before we discover the destination city.”
Braun closed the top of his computer just as the prince’s would-be resuscitator collapsed in convulsions.
“Do you even know who they were evacuating?” Spryte asked angrily.
“No, sir,” Braun replied. “But since Temple is still in the hospital, we must assume it was either Gaines or Wolfe. In either case, we are still active in tracking their location.”
“A lot of damned good that did us before,” Spryte muttered.
“If I had been allowed to continue surveillance instead of forcing a tactical incursion, we might still have all three of them in our sights,” Braun replied with a bit more bite than he should have.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Braun raced to recover from the insult he had delivered.
“Of course, I’m assuming it was Roman’s plan to use tactical forces,” Braun continued, playing to Spryte’s weakness of blaming his failures on others. “Perhaps a more clandestine approach is warranted in future contact.”
“I’ll take your advice under consideration,” Spryte said ending the call.
Braun sat back on the sofa after reopening his laptop. He watched the now-still image of the prince’s room and listened as the elevator began moving past his floor with increasing frequency. No doubt, the prince’s security forces had already sealed the room, assuming some biological agent had caused the deaths.
Braun tipped his head to the side and stared at the face of one young prostitute who was sprawled on the floor in front of the Prince’s body. Her death pose was so elegant and graceful that he had a sudden urge he couldn’t resist. He picked up the hotel phone and dialed.
“Concierge,” came a man’s voice at the other end. “How can I help you, Mr. Smith.”
“I require the company of a companion,” Braun said.
“Understood,” the man replied. “What specifically did you have in mind?”
“Female, young,” he responded as he closed his eyes. “And local, if that isn’t too much trouble. Other than that, I could care less.”
“I will do my best, sir.”
“Of course you will,” Braun said and hung up the phone muttering, “and so shall she—whether she wants to or not.”
**
7:55 p.m. on January 18th—Somewhere in the tropics
NICK HORIATIS was sitting against a concrete wall with his phone pressed to his ear. The short break from his immediate task afforded him an opportunity to look up into the tropical sky that was just starting to darken. The heat from the block and the concrete beneath him were an odd but welcome contrast to the cool air blowing up from the bay.
“Miss Rhodes is under passive surveillance at the moment,” Director Burgess said from the other end of the call. “If anything else comes to light, we’ll transfer her.”
“That’s a damned shame,” Nick muttered, taking a long drag on a cigarette. It was a rare indulgence, and he was enjoying it. “What a circus this is. Two officers and a trainee pulled over to the enemy, and we don’t even know who the enemy is yet.”
“Don’t give up on her yet,” Burgess replied. “She was a good operative. We can’t just assume she’s gone over.”
Nick bit his tongue, avoiding any further speculation about Penny’s loyalties until there was more evidence. Instead, he cracked his neck to the side as if it were a trigger to move on to the next unpleasant subject.
“How’s John?” Nick asked with the illusion of objectivity in his tone.
“They’ve brought him out of his coma, but he isn’t talking yet,” Burgess replied, not trying to disguise the tension in his voice. “I’m going out to see him this evening as soon as I hang up with you.”
“Tell him I said to get his ass back to work, sir,” Nick said jokingly. “I can’t run the section and still gather INTEL.”
“I will,” Burgess chuckled, accepting it for what it was…a lame attempt at humor to cover sincere worry. “Speaking of which, any new information yet?
“No, sir…but it’s early still,” Nick replied.
“I’d like to get as much information about that asset as we can,” Burgess said. “I don’t like the idea of unbeatable resources being at the disposal of the bad guys… That’s our niche.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call him unbeatable,” Nick said. “Monkey Wrench did a pretty good job of whoopin’ his ass.”
“I thought you shot him,” Burgess said, sounding a bit confused.
“Oh, I did,” Nick replied. “But only after Monkey Wrench had already beat his ass so bad that he had no option but to pull a weapon.”
There was silence at the other end of the line.
“Sir?”
“So Monkey Wrench…he beat the asset in hand-to-hand?” Burgess asked.
“Yes, sir. He didn’t tell you?” Nick asked.
“All he said was that it was the best fighter he had ever encountered and that you shot him.”
Nick paused a moment, thinking about the wording of that statement.
“Yes, sir. That is technically correct.”
There was more silence.
“Is everything okay, sir?” Nick asked. “Do I need to have a talk with Scott the next time I see him?”
“No,” Burgess replied quickly. “He gave an accurate accounting. Perhaps modesty prevented him from—”
“Ha!” Nick laughed before Burgess could even finish his sentence. “I don’t think that’s a concern with him.”
“I see,” Burgess said. “Well, I don’t want to hold you up any longer. I know you have a long night ahead of you.”
“Yes sir,” Nick replied. “I’ll let you know as soon as we come up with anything interesting.”
“Thanks, Nick,” Burgess replied, and ended the call.
Nick tucked the phone back into his pocket and stood, stretching his arms over his head.
I wonder why the old man was so put off about Scott kicking that guy’s ass? Nick thought as he bent backward to crack his spine.
He shook his head after lingering with the thought for a moment. Then he opened the steel door and returned to the interior of the mostly dark, windowless, cinderblock building. He took a slow walk toward the chair in the center of the room, which was highlighted by a single halogen spotlight. He looked down and shook his head after coming to a halt in front of the chair
Bailey looked up as the features of his face seemed to melt into despair.
“Okay,” Nick said, slapping his hands together and rubbing them back and forth. “On
e more time from the top.”
“I don’t know anything,” Bailey cried pathetically as he struggled against the wire that bound his hands and feet to the chair.
“I love it when you say that,” Nick replied with a grin and looked at the other men in the room. “Bucket—tip him back.”
End of Wolfe Trap,
Book 4 of the 7 part Scott Wolfe Series
Acknowledgments
I wish to, once again, thank my editor, Brenda Errichiello, for her tireless efforts during this project. Her insights and keen eye have brought out a shining prize.
Thanks to Melissa Manes at Scriptionis for the extra proof editing. It’s quite an honor to have a vocal fan jump onboard this project. Your efforts have made my story better.
To my wife, Diane, who remains my greatest support. I wouldn’t have ever been able to bring this series to life without your constant and devoted efforts.
To my friend, Don Cooper, whose fount of wisdom seems inexhaustible. In matters of law enforcement, military, world events, chemistry, and so much more, I thank you for being my sounding board, encyclopedia, and friend.
I'd also like to thank all of my beta readers and those who have given me feedback on the series, particularly Jon, Ralph, Kevin, James, Charlotte, Mark from down under, Wendy C., and Linda. Your opinions and suggestions add to my growing understanding of this dynamic and memorable cast of characters.
For my cheerleaders and enthusiastic friends—particularly Trudy, Wendy N., Dom, J.C., David, and Ralph…who needs a publicist with friends like you? Thank you for your vocal praise of the project.
And finally, as always, I'd like to thank our children…grown adults, all of you, with your own opinions and interpretation—thank you Megan, Lauren, and Alex. I love you.
Look for Scott Wolfe's return in
Harbinger
Books by S.L. Shelton:
Hedged
The Scott Wolfe Series:
Waking Wolfe
Unexpected Gaines
Danger Close
Wolfe Trap
Harbinger
Predator’s Game
Splinter Self (Coming 2017)
Back story: Lt. Marsh
Follow S.L. Shelton at:
wolfeauthor.wordpress.com
www.goodreads.com/WolfeWriter
facebook.com/SLShelton.Author
SLShelton.com
I hope you enjoyed reading Wolfe Trap. If you did, I’d like to encourage you to post a review on the site you purchased it from and on www.goodreads.com. Your reviews are the best way to keep an author churning out the work and I’m grateful for every one I get. Feel free to contact me on Twitter and Facebook if you have any questions or thoughts about the stories. I love hearing from you…you make this process a joy for me.
Very best regards,
S.L. Shelton
Twitter: @SLSheltonAuthor
Excerpt from Harbinger
“Kathrin!” I yelled from the living room as I jumped from the couch and ran to the bedroom. She was just hitting the floor as I entered.
“We have a problem,” I said as I handed her my phone to show her the news. “This was the guy who dropped me off at the Docks.” Then I flipped to the story of the fire at the airport. “And I believe this is the hangar where I picked up my package.”
She wasted no time getting dressed. As she pulled a T-shirt over her bra-less torso, she called out to the ceiling. “Adina. We need you. Now!”
“Do you have transportation?” I asked.
“Yes. A minivan in the garage downstairs. It opens to the alley,” she replied.
“I need to borrow it,” I stated; it was not a request.
Kathrin thought for a moment as we walked into the living room. “I’m going with you,” she said just as Adina burst into the room.
“Kathrin! Wenn Du das machst, sitzt Du aber tief in der Scheisse!” Adina hissed as she opened the door. I understood that; there would be trouble if Kathrin went with me.
“I don’t care,” Kathrin replied. “I brought him here. I’m getting him out.”
I left the room while the girls continued to argue. I packed my duffel, grabbed my shoulder bag, and went to the hidden safe box in the closet to retrieve my stored items.
Kathrin appeared in the doorway as I was strapping my holster across my shoulder. She began packing a bag as well.
“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” I said sincerely as I pulled the slide back on my Glock to confirm there was a round in the chamber.
“Since when have you ever not gotten me into trouble, Monkey Wrench?” she asked, her devilish grin spreading across her beautiful face.
I could tell it would do no good to tell her to stay. And to be honest, I wanted her to come.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she slipped a subcompact 9mm into her waistband.
“Do you know anyone in Switzerland?” I asked.
She smiled. “I do. In Basel. And it’s on the way to just about everywhere in Switzerland from here.”
“Okay then. Basel, it is. You need to drive at least until we get on the highway. There are too many cameras in the city.”
She nodded as she slipped her jacket on and shouldered her bag.
“Are we saying good-bye to Adina?” I asked as we left the bedroom.
She looked up. “Auf Wiedersehen, Adina,” she yelled at the ceiling in the living room. “We are leaving!”
I followed Kathrin out the door and downstairs to the garage entrance. Once there, I climbed in the back seat and laid down, covering my head with my hoodie. Kathrin opened the garage door and got in. She pulled out of the garage and was about to speed away, but I stopped her.
“Wait!” I said from behind her. “People in a rush leave garage doors open.”
She backed up a bit before she hopped out and closed them. As she jumped back in, she looked down over the seat at me. “You want a pizza or anything on the way? You know…so we don’t look like we’re in a rush?”
“Go,” I said with a grin.
She was darting through the alley, riding the clutch and brake, stopping and starting as we hit cross streets.
“Don’t hurry. We don’t want to look like we are trying to get away,” I said.
“This is how I always drive,” she replied. I could hear the smile on her face. “I’m sorry, but I removed the backseat steering wheel last week.”
“A little slower today, please. At least until we get to the highway,” I replied.
“So hard to please,” she muttered.
Suddenly, the all-too-familiar sound of small arms fire and concussion grenades sounded just behind us. Kathrin slammed on the brakes, sending me rolling to the floor. She spun around and looked back over the seat toward the house we had just fled. She looked at me, her eyes pleading.
“Turn us around,” I said without pause as I climbed out of the back seat and into the front passenger seat.
Within seconds, we were back at the house, skidding to a halt by the back entrance. Smoke was billowing from the third-story window.
Leaving the engine running, Kathrin and I jumped from the van and ran through the garage doors. We drew our weapons as soon as we were off the street and hurried back into the house as quietly as we could. At the base of the stairs, we paused, alerted by heavy footsteps coming down.
We hurried up to the second-floor landing, and I peered around the edge of the railing to see two men dragging the limp body of Adina, her head covered in a black bag. Kathrin put her hand on my back, letting me know that whatever I did, she would be right there with me.
I smelled smoke; not the heavy acrid smell of burning wood, but chemical and metal. They had used “flash bang” grenades to enter the upper rooms.
They’re looking for prisoners, not bodies, I realized.
As the two attackers clambered down the stairs, I turned to Kathrin. I indicated to her with hand motions that she should take the right and I would take the left. She nodded her
understanding and put her gun out rigidly.
I looked at her weapon and realized she had no silencer. Quickly deciding silence was most important, so as not to alert the men who were still upstairs to our presence, I handed her my silenced Glock.
She shot me a concerned look as she holstered her own weapon and took mine. As I inched toward the edge of the doorway at the turn in the steps, I used my fingers behind my back to count down so Kathrin could see them.
As they turned at the landing, my count hit one, and I sprang forward, wrapping my hands around the man’s mouth and throat. With all my might, I squeezed and wrenched my hands in opposite directions. I felt bone grinding against bone as his hands flailed briefly, then dropped. I hadn’t intended to kill him, but the loss wasn’t heartbreaking; I would have shot him if I’d had a weapon.
Kathrin didn’t seem to have a problem with her task. Two quick pops to the back of the second man’s head from behind the staircase dropped him before he could even turn to see what had happened to his comrade.
Adina dropped limply to the floor of the landing before I scooped her up in my arms. Kathrin, walking backward, covered us from behind as I made my way back to the first floor and then to the garage.
As I came around the corner of the garage entrance, a man in tactical gear turned around the doorway, his barrel up at eye level. I jumped up, Adina still in my arms, kicking the barrel to the side with my left foot as I ascended and flicked my right foot out, catching him squarely in the throat with the side of my boot. He got one shot off, which impacted in the wall of the garage. The alarm, however, had been raised.
“Hurry,” I hissed.
Kathrin strode behind me as I placed Adina’s limp body into the minivan, sliding the door closed behind me. Without a hitch in her stride, she popped two silenced rounds into the head of the man I had knocked unconscious and continued toward the driver’s side door.
Damn! This girl is impressive, I thought.
<<<<>>>>
