Betrayal (Julian Mercer Book 2)

by G. K. Parks

  “Is Sarina okay?” Logan asked, horrified by Mercer’s pallor and abrupt action.

  “She will be.” Mercer stood, moving toward the door. “He shouldn’t make contact again for another thirty-four hours. You’ll receive a message at work, if he does what he said. In the meantime, my team will be in touch.”

  “Wait. What do I do if he calls again? Where are you going?”

  Mercer was in no mood to deal with these infernal questions. “Bastian will handle it. We have the situation under control.”

  Once he was out of earshot, Julian phoned Bastian. “Alpha knows who I am. He wants to intimidate us. I hung up. Can you reroute Porter’s calls in case that bastard rings again?”

  “Of course.” Bastian swallowed. “How quickly did the negotiation break down?”

  “We are awaiting delivery instructions which should arrive in thirty-four hours. He wants the protocols in his possession in just under thirty-six hours. We can’t wait. We have to move on this. He’ll kill her.”

  “Jules, if he does, he knows he won’t get what he wants.”

  Opening the car door, Mercer waited to be locked inside before speaking again. “Bollocks. You and I both know that he’s going to kill her regardless of what we do. The only reason she’s alive now is because he needs her to incentivize us.” Mercer stared out the windshield at the house. Alpha couldn’t harm Logan because he was the only person capable of getting the protocols out of Trila. “We’re spread thin, and time’s running out. I’m leaving Porter’s estate. I’ll meet you at the secondary flat in thirty minutes.”

  The drive gave Mercer time to compartmentalize. The Porters’ blight had nothing to do with him. The only reason that sick son of a bitch brought up Mercer’s private life was to distract. It was nothing but smoke and mirrors. It also demonstrated that Alpha had the upper hand. Frankly, it might even mean that he’d underestimated the former SAS team.

  Turning off the engine, Mercer studied his surroundings, recalling the cars and lights that had been nearby when they first arrived. Nothing had changed. Ever vigilant, he watched traffic patterns on the quiet street for another five minutes before going up the steps to the flat.

  “It’s about time,” Hans greeted. He was leaning over Bastian’s shoulder, staring at the computer monitor. “We need a third to break the tie.” He pointed at the screen. “I say we leave them incapacitated. They didn’t want to talk, so solitary confinement ought to break their resolve.” He glared at Bastian. “But this one’s worried about common human decency. It’s rubbish, if you ask me.”

  “Why aren’t you interrogating them?” Mercer asked, the annoyance evident in his tone. “I gave you a green light.”

  “They didn’t answer. In case you forgot, they’re trained mercenaries, just like we are,” Hans snapped.

  “So the two suits are Trila security guards.” Mercer took a seat next to Bastian, vexed by this hiccup. “Why are they following Porter?”

  “To protect him,” Bastian retorted. “They were told to keep an eye on him by the head of Trila. Interfering is going to make things worse for us. We need to release them, apologize, and chalk it up to bygones.”

  “That’s ludicrous,” Hans argued.

  “Silence,” Mercer snarled. Answers would be nice, but drawing additional scrutiny from Trila’s security team now wasn’t ideal. “Alpha possesses information about me, probably all of us. How did he get it?”

  “Internet search, hacking into a government database, a random newspaper article, or a possible security leak at Trila,” Bastian surmised. He reached for the slobbery pen he left on the table and chewed thoughtfully. “You have to keep in mind the reason Logan’s being followed is because Trila fears that he’ll abscond with their tech. Before he went to his boss for help, no one was following him.”

  “Or they did a better job of hiding it,” Hans suggested. “Don’t we owe it to the client to find out?”

  Mercer chuckled. The situation didn’t merit that response, but normally, Mercer was vying to conduct an interrogation, not Hans. The laugh elicited a bewildered look from Bastian. Shaking it off, Mercer stood and went to the wall, studying the surveillance photos they’d taken of the Trila building and Porter’s estate.

  “Mr. Porter wants to know why he was targeted. How did Alpha know to choose him?” Mercer didn’t bother to turn around to gauge his teammates’ responses. “I’d like to know the same thing. Hans, go ask the gentlemen what they know. If Alpha bribed them, we ought to be able to do the same. The good thing about soldiers of fortune is they work for the highest bidder.”

  “You want to pay them to talk?” Hans asked. “How do you know they’re even crooked?”

  “Everyone has a price.” Mercer spun around, seeing a slightly relieved look on Bastian’s face. “We don’t have the time needed to break them, and they know it. Get whatever you can and then tag and release. It’d be nice if they could lead us to Sarina.”

  “Optimism doesn’t suit you,” Bastian said. “What’s your real plan?”

  “We figure out how to infiltrate Trila and remove the protocols. It might be our only way to get close enough to save the woman,” Mercer concluded.

  “So the exact same plan we’ve had since the beginning. Bloody hell.” Bastian didn’t say it, but they felt it. This was an assignment they might not win. “The computer isn’t finished processing the building schematics, so until that happens, I’ll continue to focus my efforts on narrowing possible locations.”

  “Good,” Mercer said.

  Hans ducked out of the flat in order to return to the cargo container they had procured in the event a holding cell became a necessity. Bastian continued to narrow locations, accessing satellite imagery and checking for suspicious activity.

  Alone with his thoughts, the ever present rage bubbled a little closer to the surface. Alpha’s words were meant to cause a reaction, and Mercer had denied giving that bastard the satisfaction. But it still hurt. Mercer didn’t kill his wife, but many nights he’d been unable to shake that thought. Somewhere deep down, he knew she died because he hadn’t been there to stop it. It was his fault. He didn’t protect her. Logan Porter would probably feel the same way if Sarina didn’t make it home alive.

  “Why is this happening?” Mercer asked, but the photos on the wall didn’t give him an answer. Maybe one of his teammates would.

  Nineteen

  The night dragged on as Mercer fell deeper into an endless chasm of despair. Alpha had screwed with his head, and no matter how hard he tried to concentrate, he couldn’t. Around two a.m., Bastian sent him to bed. No one had slept, and it was taking a toll on their leader. The nightmares were worse than ever, but Mercer stayed locked in the dream, waking with a start at the sound of the front door slamming. Picking up his Sig, he opened the bedroom door and watched an exhausted Donovan drag himself inside.

  Bastian had been asleep on the sofa, a few feet from the computer array. He too lowered his handgun and sat up. Donovan’s gaze shifted from Bastian to Mercer, and he snorted.

  “I might have found it,” Donovan said. He rubbed his eyes, flexing his fingers a few times when he noticed a slight tremor. “Bloody caffeine.” He patted his pocket, making sure he had some diazepam in case he needed to counteract the jitters and steady his aim. “There’s a condemned building within our suspected radius.” He went to one of the maps and pinned the location. “It’s quiet, secluded, and not susceptible to foot traffic.”

  “So are half the buildings in this city,” Bastian remarked.

  “But unlike those buildings, this one has power. I saw a light on. It was faint. At first, I thought it was from a torch or lantern. So I called the power company to complain about interrupted service, and they verified that the power was on and suggested I check the circuit breaker. Fancy that.”

  “It’s too soon to jump to conclusions. Anyone could be squatting inside,” Mercer said. He focused on Bastian. “Find out who’s being billed.” He turned back to Donovan. �
��Anything else to report?”

  “Negative,” Donovan muttered, pushing past and into an empty bedroom. “Night.”

  Before Mercer could utter a word to the contrary, the door slammed shut. “Guess he’s earned some downtime,” Mercer mumbled. Rotating his shoulder that often got stiff, following a recent dislocation, he hovered near the computer screens, studying the images and intel that were displayed. “Did Hans return?”

  “Not that I’m aware,” Bastian replied, rubbing his eyes. “He might have snuck in while I was passed out, but I’d wager he’s questioning our captives or scouring the city for an ATM that will dispense thousands of dollars.” Bastian cleared his throat and went into the kitchen. “We need to talk about this. Are you intent on nicking the protocols and delivering them to some tosser in exchange for the girl?”

  “If that’s what it takes,” Mercer snapped.

  “Since when do we join forces with the other side?”

  “We aren’t, but Alpha won’t bend, so something has to break. If Donovan’s wrong, we won’t be able to get close enough to save the girl without the protocols.”

  Bastian took a deep breath, not wanting to cause another argument. “How many times have we compromised ourselves for this job? How many laws have we broken? How many times have we been behind an abduction of our own? This isn’t the proper way to conduct business. We are supposed to rescue captives, not play capture the flag with the other team’s men.” He returned to the room with a piping hot mug. “Ninety-nine percent of the time we don’t even know if the people we snatch are involved.”

  “They are always involved,” Mercer said, but it was obvious he wasn’t listening. “Trila’s involved in Sarina’s disappearance, but I can’t pinpoint the connection. Surely, they wouldn’t sabotage their own program or leak their own corporate secrets. Is there a disgruntled employee or displaced CEO that has an axe to grind with Logan Porter?” Mercer studied Porter’s dossier that was plastered to one of the walls. “Alpha has an inside connection at Trila. He must.”

  “Jules,” Bastian put the mug down, slamming his palm against the table, “what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Porter explained how he came to work for the company. He was moved here. He works here. But he’s a small fish with a nice office. He lacks knowhow.”

  “The merger.” Bastian nodded. “I read about it. He was a decent employee, so they kept him on. Nothing sinister there. He does his job. He gets some perks. That’s how corporations work. Maybe you’d know that if you ever took a moment to look around and observe normalcy.”

  “It sounds like they planted him here. They put him in the perfect position to become Alpha’s puppet.”

  “Ahh, another of your conspiracy theories.” Bastian sighed and rolled his eyes. “Haven’t we been through this before? There isn’t an evil overlord behind every bad thing that happens in this world.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  Mercer didn’t bother to say anything else. This was where the two disagreed. His obsession, as Bastian called it, started when Michelle was murdered. The police blamed him. No evidence ever pointed to someone else, but the timing had been perfect, so perfect that he was convinced it was orchestrated. Mercer had returned from a clandestine mission a few days earlier, and he and his wife had been practically inseparable. That morning, he’d gone to the market to pick up some supplies, and when he returned less than an hour later, she was on the floor, gasping. He’d held her as the life left her body, and he was still holding her when the police arrived to find him covered in her blood. Since then, he’d reviewed the case file and done everything he could to determine who was responsible. Recently, he’d received some new information, but they hadn’t had time to properly evaluate it due to occupational demands.

  Bastian snapped his fingers in front of Mercer’s face. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “That I’m certifiable?” Mercer growled.

  “No, that we have a problem.” He pointed to the flashing scan incomplete on the monitor. “Something went wrong. Maybe they found our devices or we’re experiencing technical difficulties. Either way, the interior mapping of Trila didn’t finish, and the transmission has ended.”

  “How much did we get?” Mercer asked, forcing his focus to shift.

  “I don’t know.” Bastian typed in a few commands and scrolled through some options. “The entire lobby and Porter’s floor are complete. Other than that, it’s piecemeal.”

  “Fine.” Mercer checked his watch. They had twenty-six hours until Alpha delivered instructions.

  “It’s not fine. We have to scrub the plan and come up with a viable alternative that will appease Alpha until we can get Sarina back.”

  “There’s not enough time. Either we find Sarina, or we continue as planned. First, we need to scout the building Donovan found and follow-up on every lead we have. If all else fails, I’ll march into Trila tomorrow morning and get what we need.”

  “That’s suicide.”

  “Then Donovan better know what he’s talking about.” Mercer picked up the phone and dialed Logan Porter to make sure nothing had been delivered to the office. Once Logan was reassured that the call was cautionary and the original timeframe was in place, Mercer disconnected. “I want to make another pass at Sarina’s office. Maybe we missed something. What did her computer files show?”

  “Important meetings with clients. Dates and times for appointments. A reminder to pick up an anniversary gift for some friends. Nothing useful.”

  “What’d you find on the assistant, Brie Dawson?”

  “Squeaky clean. She’s a nobody.”

  “Do we have anything of actual use?”

  Bastian hit a few keys, scrolling through Sarina’s work files. “Sarina missed the meeting with the jam people. According to the phone records, they called her office to ask where she was.”

  “Meaning she wasn’t meeting them at the office.” Mercer shrugged. “Is that relevant?”

  “It might be.” Bastian’s brow furrowed. “She was at home when she was taken. If she had a meeting scheduled, shouldn’t she have been on her way out?” Bastian watched the wheels begin to turn.

  “Maybe it was an internet meeting. Did she make any notes concerning location?”

  “She has some notes saved on how to improve their marketing campaign by joining a network of small businesses, but nothing about where they were meeting. It’s odd that her assistant doesn’t know anything about it.”

  “Or so she says.”

  “Aside from the potential bio we have on Alpha and the building Donovan discovered, I’d say everything else is a dead end.” Bastian narrowed his eyes, staring at one of the satellite images pasted on the wall. “He’d have to have a way in and out to pick up food and other supplies. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Get to it. I’m going to Sarina’s office.” Mercer checked his watch again. “Wake Donovan in two hours and have him meet me at this building.” He flicked the pinned location on the map. “Tell him to be prepared.”

  “Who’s going to monitor Trila and Porter?” Bastian asked, knowing that had been Donovan’s job.

  “Trila has no issue monitoring Porter, and we don’t have the manpower to spare. He shouldn’t be in danger, unless you think Trila plans to kill him before he can compromise their corporate secrets.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  “Either way, we weren’t hired to protect Logan. He’s on his own.”

  Twenty

  When Mercer arrived at Sarina’s consulting firm, he was surprised to find the place boarded up. A note on the door said they were closed until further notice with a contact number for current clients. Mercer dialed, but the number went to the assistant’s voicemail box. At least it’d give him free range to examine the office for anything they might have missed the first time.

  Breaking the lock, he let himself in and pushed the door closed. First, he scanned the area with a RF reader, checking for transmissions. The wifi ne
twork was active, but based on the low output, it didn’t appear that it was in use. Convinced the building was secure, Mercer went into Sarina’s office and conducted a thorough physical search. Her desk, the bookcase in the corner, and the closet proved pointless. Moving the computer to the floor, Mercer flipped the desk on its side to check for hidden compartments.

  “Dammit,” he cursed, righting the desk and shoving the drawers back in place. He picked up the calendar and flipped through the pages, even though Bastian had scans of the information. Nothing new surfaced. Alpha was a pro. It didn’t appear he had made previous contact with his victim. That thought stopped Mercer in his tracks. He studied the writing, finding something eerily familiar about it. If Alpha hadn’t made contact with Sarina, he must have made contact with someone close to her. There was no other way to explain how seamless the abduction was orchestrated.

  Ringing Bastian, he barely waited for his second-in-command to answer before blurting out, “Find Brie Dawson, now.”

  Hanging up, Mercer felt incompetent. He swore at his own stupidity. Instead of waiting for Bastian to phone back with the information, he called Logan again. After too many unanswered rings, he hung up. Something was wrong. On his way to the door, he dialed Hans. No answer. What the hell was going on? Why hadn’t the team remained on comms this entire time? Fearing, the oversight would cost them dearly, Mercer hastened his departure.

  A second later, the phone rang, startling him. “What?” Julian barked.

  “She’s gone,” Bastian said.

  “What do you mean gone?”

  “She’s off the grid. I did some quick checking. No activity on her credit card or phone. I’m guessing she’s in the wind. She probably disappeared or,” Bastian swallowed, “the less pleasant alternative. I’ll start checking with hospitals and the morgue. Logan might be able to get in contact with her faster, assuming she’s okay.”