Mantis (K19 Security Solutions Book 4)

by Heather Slade

  —:—

  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.”

  “Or?”

  “More than the little bird’s wings will be clipped.”

  Mantis set his phone down on the table in front of him. He didn’t need to bother telling the men seated around it what Ghafor demanded; they’d all heard what he said.

  “I need a minute,” Mantis told them, and stalked through the sliding door to the patio.

  All the miles he’d traveled, all the roads revenge had driven him down since that fateful eleventh day of September, had led him to where he was today.

  It was his fault that Ghafor had Alegria. His fault that Dutch had been kidnapped in Germany. His fault that every K19 partner, other than Doc’s wife, was in Afghanistan, risking their lives.

  He’d heard it said countless times that revenge was like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. In this case, the deal he’d made with Ghafor—to gain access to the final man he held personally responsible for his brother’s death—had resulted in the people he cared about being forced to drink his poison.

  The night he left Alegria in the hospital in Boston, he’d known in his heart that he was prepared to do whatever it took to get Dutch free, including offering his life in exchange.

  He would do the same now, except Ghafor didn’t want Mantis’ life; he wanted money—more money than he’d see in a thousand lifetimes.

  Chapter 29

  Dutch

  They were less than fifty kilometers from Bagram Air Base when Doc’s phone vibrated again. Dutch could tell he really didn’t want to look at it, but he slowly picked it up and read the message on the screen.

  “Goddammit. God, mother fucking, dammit.”

  “What?” asked Razor from the front passenger seat.

  “They’ve got Alegria.”

  “Who does?” Dutch demanded.

  “I don’t fucking know yet.”

  Dutch watched as Doc punched a code into his phone and waited for someone to pick up his call.

  He could overhear Gunner’s description of the scene at the Islamabad hotel as well as Alegria’s father’s report that an American woman had been part of the team that stormed the room and took his daughter.

  “Where to, Doc?” Razor asked from the front seat.

  “I want everyone back at the base as soon as they can get there.”

  “But—”

  “Save it,” Doc bellowed. “Everyone back at the base. We have one mission left, and that is to get Alegria back from whoever the mother fucker is who has her, and to get home. That’s it. Nothing else. Monk, pull the fuck over.”

  Smart man, thought Dutch, when Monk pulled the vehicle to the side of the road. He’d known Doc Butler a long time, and he’d never seen him this angry. He probably had been; Dutch had just never seen him lose control of it.

  Doc got out and opened the front passenger door of the vehicle.

  “What?” asked Razor, who was sitting in it.

  “You and Dutch start working on a profile for Kilbourne. Let’s figure out exactly whose side she’s on.”

  Dutch had spent the last few days turning that exact question over and over in his head and thinking through every detail of the time they’d been together—before he dumped her for Alegria.

  Every time he thought back on that time of his life, he cringed. Had she been more serious about him than he was about her and he just hadn’t seen it?

  Because of it, had she set him up for easy recapture by Safi out of revenge? And now, had she orchestrated Alegria’s kidnapping out of the same revenge?

  His instincts were telling him no, she hadn’t done any of those things, but in the absence of a better explanation, doubt continued to creep in.

  “Kilbourne. Malin. Twenty-six. Graduated first in her class from the University of Virginia. Recruited before graduation. First job was at Langley, but you already know that part.” Razor rubbed his chin. “I’m not sure if you want to hear this part.”

  �
�What?”

  “You were it for her, man.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, you weren’t her first, or anything like that, but before you, she hadn’t been involved with anyone since high school. No one after you either.”

  “Fuck,” Dutch muttered.

  “I don’t see it, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “There is a million-mile divide between ‘Dutch Miller broke my heart’ and ‘I’ll hook up with the Islamic State and see if I can get my revenge on him that way. And coincidentally, the woman he left me for just happens to be in Islamabad, so what the hell, I’ll take her down too.’”

  “What’s your take, then?” asked Doc.

  “We can find out more once we get back to Bagram.”

  Chapter 30

  Mantis and Alegria

  “Heard from Doc, he wants everyone to meet back at Bagram,” said Striker, joining him outside.

  Mantis spun around. “We’re abandoning her?”

  Striker grasped Mantis’ shoulder. “Settle down, man. Of course we aren’t abandoning her. We’re eliminating risk.”

  “What about her father?”

  “Already on his way.”

  “What the fuck?”

  Striker’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “We don’t answer to you, Cassman. We make decisions at the time they’re needed. Not that you asked, but I’m with Doc on this one. If Alegria and her father had been at Bagram, none of this would be happening.”

  “Don’t blame her.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Striker muttered. “Pull your head out of your ass, Mantis. You aren’t making sense. You keep this up, and I’ll recommend you get taken off this mission.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Of course I can, and you know it.”

  Mantis was about to say he’d go it alone then, but that was the point Striker was trying to make. The fact that he and then Alegria had gone it alone, was what turned everything into a clusterfuck in the first place. Even Dutch had to a certain extent. If he’d communicated, the way he was supposed to, they’d all probably be back in the States right now.

  “I hear you,” Mantis conceded.

  “Good. Now let’s move.”

  When they returned to Bagram, Dutch, Doc, and the rest of that crew were already back, but he’d only seen Doc and Monk.

  “Where’s Dutch?” he asked.

  “He and Razor are working on a profile of Kilbourne.”

  “Do you think she’s the one who set up Alegria.”

  “Only logical explanation at this point. There’s no intel indicating another American woman’s involvement,” said Doc.

  Mantis went in search of Dutch and found him with Striker and Razor, and Striker was doing all the talking. Mantis rapped on the window, and Razor motioned him in.

  “Hey, man,” he said to Dutch, who stood, and they hugged, thumping each other hard on the back. “Damn good to see you.”

  “Same here, you jackass.”

  Mantis laughed. “I try to save your sorry ass, and you call me names,” he joked. “Seriously though, thanks for ending the Safi bloodline.”

  “You can thank him,” said Dutch, pointing at Razor. “He was a man on a mission as far as taking Zamed out.”

  “Bastards all of ’em,” muttered Razor. He and Striker looked like they were waiting for him to leave so they could get back to whatever they had been talking about before he came in.

  “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Where’re you goin’?” asked Razor, pointing to a chair. “Sit your ass down here.”

  “Didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Striker’s briefing us on Kilbourne’s mission.”

  Mantis’ eyes opened wider. “What is it?”

  “The Pakistani Taliban began recruiting women in the middle of last year. The Islamic State, as hard as it is for them to accept women as human beings, is realizing that for them to keep their dwindling numbers up, they’re going to have to do the same thing.”

  Mantis had heard about the recruitment tactics encouraging women to spread a fundamentalist message and support holy war. The idea that they could be trained to keep a pistol and a grenade, while supporting their husbands and promoting and living the teachings of the prophet Muhammad, had them signing up in droves.

  “Kilbourne has been recruited as a trainer,” said Striker. “We don’t know whether she set Dutch up for recapture, but it seems likely as a means to prove her loyalty.”

  “Exactly what I thought about her facilitating Alegria’s kidnapping,” added Razor. “If she had refused, she’d be dead. Doing anything other than what they asked of her would not only blow her cover, it would end her life.”

  “Do you think it’s personal?” asked Dutch.

  “Not remotely so,” answered Striker. “In fact, I think she would’ve walked away from you if you hadn’t ended your relationship with her when you did. This mission has been in the works for well over a year. She was scheduled to leave shortly after Mantis did.”

  “Huh,” responded Dutch, scratching his chin.

  “You’re not the Casanova you thought you were,” taunted Razor.

  “What’s next, then?” Mantis asked.

  “We go get Alegria the hell out of there,” Razor answered.

  “Who’s on the team?” Mantis prayed Razor would include him. Sitting here, powerless to help rescue the woman he loved, would drive him insane. If anything went wrong, God forbid, he’d forever blame himself.

  Razor looked back and forth between him and Dutch. “I want both of you on this, but I have to know you’re committed—”

  “Committed? Hell, we—”

  “Jesus Christ,” said Striker to Dutch. “You’re as bad as Mantis. Shut the fuck up and listen to what Razor has to say.”

  “Don’t question my commitment. Not fucking ever.”

  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.