Betrayal (Julian Mercer Book 2)

by G. K. Parks

  “Absolutely.” Bastian rubbed his wrists and gave the officer an uncertain look.

  “You’re free to go,” the officer said, impatiently waiting for them to leave the holding cell. “Run before someone changes his mind.”

  “Tosser,” Hans muttered under his breath, but he didn’t need to be told twice. At the entrance to the police station, he spotted George Browne standing near Logan Porter. “Give me two minutes alone with him.”

  “Stand down,” Mercer ordered. “Things have changed.”

  Bastian analyzed Julian and the scene before him. He always had a gift for reading people, a talent that he’d put to use as an analyst. A lot had changed, so Bastian remained silent, blending into the background while Mercer spoke briefly with Browne.

  The photo of the alleged diplomat would be e-mailed in exchange for the sharing of additional intel. So far, Donovan had found a name that matched Julian’s description of Omega, Jorgen Black. Probably an alias, but Browne didn’t say much on the subject. Instead, he insisted that he needed to check his records and conduct an internal investigation. Not having a dog in the fight, Mercer agreed, and Browne departed. Logan watched him leave and turned to the group of security specialists. He tapped the face of his watch as if to say ‘hurry’, and Mercer nodded.

  “Why didn’t you let me knock his bloody block off?” Hans asked. “Do you have any idea what we’ve been through? Those Trila twats think they invented intimidation. I’d like to show them the proper way of intimidating someone.”

  “The recovery has been made,” Mercer said, ignoring his friend. “We’re reevaluating the situation. New facts have come to light, and until the threat has been removed, we can’t leave the Porters vulnerable.” Mercer eyed the area, feeling as though they were being watched. “Alpha believes we have the item in our possession. His focus may no longer be on our clients. However, it’s hard to say for certain. Precautions must be taken.”

  Hailing a cab, the four of them fit uncomfortably inside. They were dropped off at the hotel, and Mercer led the way upstairs to their suite. Bastian pulled him aside before they entered the room.

  “Since when do we move from point A to point B without performing at least one switchback?” Bastian asked.

  “It seemed unnecessary.”

  “You want to lead him here.” Bas blew out a breath. “We’re his new targets.”

  Mercer didn’t answer. Instead, he strode inside. Donovan was stretched out on the pullout mattress again, but this time, he didn’t make a move to return to the analysis. Hans was devouring everything he could find in the mini-bar, and Sarina and Logan were huddled together at the table.

  “Jules, what happened?” Bastian asked.

  Mercer took a moment to assess the room and his team. They were tired, beaten, and frustrated. At every turn, they had uncovered some new piece of information that they should have possessed long before. The recovery had been their primary objective, but with that completed, the secondary objective was to identify Alpha and his remaining associates in order to ensure the Porters remain safe.

  “Alpha and his associates got the drop on me,” Mercer said, unhappy about that particular detail. “It shouldn’t have happened, but so be it.” He looked around the room. “Sarina,” at the sound of her name, she perked her head up, “can provide additional details about Alpha’s associates. But suffice it to say, there were three men, Alpha, Omega, and Zed. Those are the handles they are using. Omega is dead. Alpha has gone silent, and I never encountered Zed.”

  “As of an hour ago, we’ve identified Omega as Jorgen Black, the current alias of a former Jaeger turned private contractor,” Donovan said, giving up on the idea of sleep. “He was briefly employed at Trila International until three months ago when he was fired.”

  “We’re working under the assumption that Omega provided Alpha with the information necessary to plan the kidnapping,” Mercer said.

  Bastian eyed the Porters who were staring at the exchange as if they were watching a horror film. “Does that name mean anything to you, love?” Sarina shrugged. “Mr. Porter?”

  “Can I see a picture?” Logan asked, and Donovan gestured to the wall.

  Crossing the room, Logan studied the blown-up employee I.D., but he shook his head.

  “Regardless, we know Alpha wants access to the backdoor to this operating system, and he’s prepared to do anything necessary to obtain that access,” Mercer said. He shifted his gaze back to the Porters. Normally, they didn’t conduct debriefs in front of civilians. “Alpha has political clout. We don’t know how much, but he used an abandoned bomb shelter to hold us captive.”

  “Inside an embassy,” Logan blurted out.

  Hans’s gaze shot to Mercer. “Seriously?”

  Mercer nodded. “Alpha believes that I’m in possession of the protocols, and he’s made it clear that he intends to make this personal unless I give him what he wants.” Mercer swallowed. “The only reason I’m alive is because he believes that I am of use to him. It’s the same reason he didn’t kill Sarina.”

  “Jules,” Bastian hissed, casting a warning look in Mercer’s direction, “there’s no need to frighten the woman.”

  “It’s true,” Sarina said. Although she had never been properly introduced to Hans or Bastian, she didn’t shy away from the confrontation. “But Julian said that we’re safe now and that the four of you will protect us.”

  “Of course, he did,” Bastian mumbled so only Mercer could hear. “Pardon us,” he gave Julian an insistent look, “but there are private matters we need to discuss alone.” Giving Sarina the most charming smile he could muster, he added, “I’m sorry for your ordeal and our shoddy manners. I’m Bastian. That’s Hans. If there’s anything you need, please let us know. You must be tired and hungry and in need of some peace. We will not burden you further.”

  “Thank you,” Logan said before Sarina could respond. “We’ll get out of your way.”

  “Julian,” she said, ignoring her husband’s attempt to retreat, “how could Alpha keep us inside an embassy without anyone noticing?” She swallowed. “If he has that much power, how are you going to stop him? Shouldn’t you just give him whatever he wants and hope that he goes away?”

  “That’s not an option, but we will stop him,” Mercer replied. “You should rest now in case we need your help later. You’ve been up most of the night under extraordinary circumstances.”

  “Okay.” She took her husband’s outstretched hand, and they shut themselves inside the master bedroom.

  “Birds,” Hans said, taking a seat on the vacant sofa bed. “So what the hell really happened after we took the rap at Trila and let you escape?”

  Mercer gave them the proper, uncensored debrief. After everyone was up to speed, Bastian took his usual spot behind the computer. Without being asked, he pulled up Omega’s history which contained many gaps. It appeared someone with a bit of knowhow created Jorgen Black so he would look good on paper, but there wasn’t enough information to create a proper profile or identify known associates.

  “Is it a requirement that the security guards be named by Crayola?” Hans asked.

  Donovan snorted in amusement. “You got your arses handed to you by a box of crayons.”

  “Enough,” Mercer snapped. “Any idea on how to lure Alpha out of hiding?”

  “He isn’t hiding,” Bastian said. “He knows you’re gone. Hell, he probably knows someone helped you escape. Frankly, it’s a miracle that you didn’t risk an international incident.” He studied Donovan for a moment. “We need to make sure Johann’s cover remains intact. We aren’t in the business of burning spies unless they’ve infiltrated our government. However, we need his help. Alpha must be on the embassy’s CCTV footage. Jules said Alpha carried Sarina out of the bomb shelter and took her elsewhere, it must have been caught on camera.”

  “According to Johann, the security system doesn’t cover the basement or subbasement. It was a blessing and a curse. It enabled us to bring Sa
rina and Mercer out without drawing too much attention on the approach. However, on the way out of the basement, the feeds were deactivated. Cameras were off,” Donovan assured, putting the next question to rest. “No worries on blowing his cover.”

  “Couldn’t he identify Alpha?” Mercer asked.

  “He’s keeping watch, but no one’s gone back to the basement since your escape,” Donovan said. “If that changes, we’ll know.”

  “We can’t assume that’ll happen,” Hans said. “It sounds like Alpha gave you the perfect opportunity to leave. He left you free to wander about.”

  “With a bullet in my side? Doubtful,” Mercer retorted. He ran a hand through his hair. “Sarina said they didn’t typically bind her either. It could be purely circumstantial.”

  “Is there another way in or out of the basement?” Bastian asked. “It sounds like Alpha might have his own entryway or some other room down there away from official embassy business. He couldn’t just traipse through the embassy with an unconscious woman in his arms. Someone would have noticed.”

  “If there is an alternate entrance or some hidden room, Johann doesn’t know about it,” Donovan said.

  “I’ll do some checking on blueprints and renovations,” Bastian sighed, “but we’re talking a foreign country’s sovereign property. Finding that information will be next to impossible. Hell, it’s probably considered espionage in and of itself.”

  “Do what you can,” Mercer said. He scratched his chin and considered the possibilities. Until now, he’d been focused on escaping that room, not on where the doorway at the top of the stairs could lead. “Sarina might be able to tell you more. I don’t know what happened after he took her or how long she was gone.” Mercer swallowed, uncomfortable with the possibilities. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

  Bastian pressed his lips together, debating whether or not to speak his mind. Finally he said, “Frankly, Jules, treating Sarina like she’s a damsel in distress won’t help the situation.” He blew out a puff of air, drumming his fingers against the desk. “You have to stop doing this. We are ransom specialists. Once the asset has been recovered, our job is done. We do not offer protection. We are not bodyguards, so why did you volunteer to protect her and her husband from a threat that we still know very little about? We are not equipped to handle this type of situation.”

  “I beg to differ, but we knock the shit out of this type of situation,” Hans said. “We dealt with that killer bent on taking down that newspaper mogul. We can handle this too.”

  “You won’t let us perform wet work. This is the opposite. You should be pleased,” Mercer stated. He shook his head, dismissing whatever argument Bastian might make. It was of no matter. His team was exhausted. With the exception of Donovan, they’d each spent the night in shackles. The aggravated bitchiness was permitted this time.

  “Fine,” Bastian sighed, leaning back in the chair, “what’s our next move?”

  “We wait for Alpha to make contact again. In the meantime, we pool our resources and trust that Browne will flush out whatever moles might remain inside Trila and provide us with additional information on Alpha and his team.”

  “That’s a lot of uncertainty,” Donovan said. “Shouldn’t we begin by questioning Sarina?”

  “We’ll let her rest first.” Mercer went into the kitchenette to make some tea. “You should utilize this time to relax and prepare for whatever is to come. We’ll take shifts. Donovan and I will go first.”

  “Fantastic,” Donovan muttered.

  Thirty-eight

  “Anything?” Mercer leaned over Bastian’s shoulder, staring at the e-mailed photograph of Alpha. Half of the man’s face was blurred by an opaque white reflection. “What is that?”

  “Latest in technological advancements,” Bastian muttered. He rubbed the scruff on his chin. “I’ve set the facial recognition software to compensate, but it doesn’t look promising. He must have sprayed his lenses with a reflective polymer that makes it impossible to accurately take a digital picture. Alpha knows precisely what he’s doing. Some gamblers in Monte Carlo and Las Vegas have used similar devices and technology to thwart the cameras, but this is obviously very telltale. The real question is why didn’t someone inside Trila stop him. They sure as hell stopped us.”

  “Someone on Trila’s security team has been compromised,” Mercer speculated.

  “They haven’t,” Logan said from the doorway where he’d been eavesdropping. “No one monitors the security feed unless there’s a reason. You know how many guards are stationed at the doors. They don’t need to hire extra help to sit in a control room and watch monitors. That’s not how it’s done. If it was, you wouldn’t have been able to break into the building.”

  “And we all know how successful that was.” Bastian rose from his spot behind the computer. “It’ll beep if there’s a hit, but it’ll be a few hours at the very least. I’m gonna get cleaned up and get something to eat.”

  “Dismissed,” Mercer said. He turned his attention to Logan. “How’s Sarina?”

  He shrugged. “She’s a trooper, but she wants to go home. She wants her life back. She wants things to go back to normal.”

  “Is she awake?”

  “She’s taking a shower.” Logan let out a bitter laugh. “I’m probably worse off than she is. Every time she’s out of my sight, I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach like she’s going to disappear again. I didn’t protect her before. I couldn’t even get the damn computer protocols for the kidnapper. If her safety were solely up to me, she’d be dead. What do I do? How do I live with myself knowing that’s the truth?”

  “You do better,” Mercer said.

  “How?”

  Taking a deep breath, Mercer turned his back on Porter and went into the adjacent room. He didn’t have an answer to that question. That was something he was struggling with himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the counter in the kitchenette. The room spun slightly, and he closed his eyes. Damn blood loss, he thought, forcing his mind to accept that as the truth.

  When he opened his eyes, Sarina was standing in front of him. She wore the hotel robe, and her hair was wet. She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water. When she couldn’t find anything to eat, she closed the door.

  “May we speak?” Mercer asked.

  She nodded, leading the way to the couch in the main room. She pulled her leg underneath her and ran a towel absently through her wet hair.

  “You want to know what happened that night.” She gave him a sad smile. “To be honest, I don’t know. I thought I was dead. And then there was nothingness.” She used the towel to wipe at a wayward tear and looked away. “When I woke up, Omega was dead. You…,” she swallowed, fighting to regain control of her trembling lip, “I thought I was alone. I thought…”

  “I know.” Mercer understood her fear. “You don’t know where he took you?”

  “I didn’t know he took me anywhere,” she said. “You told me that. I was facing the wall, and then I saw him fire, and then I woke up in almost the same spot.” Wiping at her eyes, she took an unsteady breath. “Are you sure that you didn’t imagine it? The only room I saw the entire time was that horrible dungeon.”

  “What about when you were first taken or when he took you to the rendezvous point?”

  “I woke up in that room. There’s nothing else but that room.” She sniffled and began to cry.

  “Baby, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re here. It’s okay,” Logan said, swooping in from where he’d been lingering a few feet away. “No one can hurt you. You’re free.”

  “I don’t feel free. I want to go home. I want things to go back to normal.” She pushed away from her husband’s shoulder and stared fiercely at Julian. “When will this be over?”

  “Soon.”

  Considering her plea to return home, Mercer reached for the phone and dialed Browne. Trila had a lot of power, so it stood to reason that Browne might be able to get the information they neede
d on Alpha faster and without the red tape that came from dealing with international bureaucracies. However, it was unclear whether or not Trila’s head of security could be trusted. Either way, it would lead them to Alpha, Mercer reasoned.

  * * *

  Waiting was never easy. There was a reason patience was considered a virtue. Mercer stared at the second hand on the clock. It was after midnight, and he’d been stonewalled by Browne. The facial recognition had proved useless in identifying Alpha, and so far, the blueprints to the embassy were beyond their grasp.

  Tunnels, Mercer thought, getting up and scouring through their data for a city map. Alpha was aware of Mercer and Donovan’s expedition through that booby-trapped abandoned building, and according to the map, the embassy was less than two kilometers away. Entering new search parameters for the city’s infrastructure, sewer, and transportation system, Mercer hoped to find something that would indicate he was on the right track. After all, a fallout shelter that was used as a bunker for diplomats ought to have at least one emergency exit.

  “You’re still awake?” Sarina asked. They hadn’t spoken since her meltdown. She looked around the room, but the rest of Mercer’s team was absent.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Speak.”

  She winced at his harsh response but soldiered on. “Why would you go through the trouble of staging a heist at my husband’s work and not steal the one item that would free me?”

  “That was my intention,” Mercer said.

  “Then why didn’t you give it to Alpha?”

  At her accusatory tone, he spun on his heel to face her. “I’m sorry things didn’t go as planned.”

  “Julian, he nearly killed you. I saw what he did to you. I was so scared that he’d do the same to me or worse. Much worse.” She blinked, glancing at the closed bedroom door that contained her sleeping husband. “He’s going to try again until you give him what he wants. Next time, he might hurt Logan too. Please, just give him what he wants so this will go away.”