A big, army-style truck blocked their path. They’d run right into the rear fender. Four men had guns aimed directly at them. Smoke billowed out from the front of the Jeep.
“Oh shit.” Abigail clenched the door and the wheel, her eyes so wide they took up half her face.
“Who are they?” Jordan secret service? ISIS?
“They’re Mossad.”
His door flew open and hands grasped him. Luke didn’t fight. There was no point. He held up his hands, let them pull him from the Jeep and shove him to the ground, the asphalt burning his face and skin through his clothing.
These were her people…
It should be a good thing, shouldn’t it?
Abigail lay on the ground, staring at him from the other side of the Jeep.
He’d thought fear was an emotion she didn’t know.
He’d been wrong.
Abigail was afraid, and damn it if he didn’t want to wipe it away.
Abigail stared at the bottom of the cargo plane. It was all over now.
She knew what would happen to her, and it wasn’t going to be good.
Swinging through that town had been a mistake. She’d been there once, a long time ago. But clearly not long enough for people to forget. The Mossad agents had been lying in wait for her. From the snippets of conversation she’d caught, they’d set up a half-dozen points in an attempt to capture them.
And they’d succeeded.
Because she’d been lazy.
Luke was strapped into a seat, handcuffed to the armrests some fifteen feet ahead of her. She felt his gaze slide back to her every now and then. He hadn’t spoken a word. Not a single sentence. But he didn’t have to.
By now, the Mossad network would have traced her history. At least the last six months, while she’d been setting up Abigail. Luke’s life would be an open book to them.
She could only pray that whatever traitor had burned her was gone. Eliminated. And the unknown force behind the Smith bombing was someone else. Another entity altogether. But what were the odds? She didn’t believe in coincidence, and life didn’t throw her a bone. Ever.
Abigail drew her knees up to her chest and put her head down.
She concentrated on breathing slowly. Keeping the panic at bay.
It would be like any number of interrogation exercises before. She’d gone through this over and over again without breaking during training. She could do it one last time. She had to.
But what would Luke tell them? Out of his need to protect her, what secrets would he reveal? And what would Luke say once he knew the whole, unvarnished truth? She’d been trained to deal with being captured—but how did she protect Luke?
She had no doubt he would be there for all of it. The man who’d changed her life. Who’d destroyed her heart. Who’d recruited her. Turned her into a weapon. A thing to be used and discarded, time and time again, because what else was she good for?
The old wounds still bled.
They’d never really healed.
The nose of the plane dipped, sending her stomach up into her throat.
They were landing. Where?
Abigail tilted her head to the side, listening, but the few agents closest to her were the silent type.
They’d taken off from an airstrip in the middle of nowhere on a cargo plane. If she had to guess, they’d fly at low altitudes back to Israel and one of the many covert bases that Mossad worked out of.
If they meant to play off her emotions, twist her loyalty into a noose, she knew where they’d take her. Back to where it all began—outside Tel Aviv. But the plane couldn’t land there without some kind of flight plan. The airspace was too closely regulated. So where? And what horrors were about to be unleashed on her?
She could only hope that Luke would not be brought along, that they wouldn’t make him watch her break. She’d rather he remember her as she was, instead of what they would make her into. Even when the interrogations were just an exercise, they’d pushed her to her limits. There was a very real possibility they would shatter her. She was worn down. Exhausted. Spent. But she had to hold on.
In a weird way, both she and Luke were right.
They had gotten free.
Her past had just caught up to her before they could make use of their freedom. If she were honest with herself, that island paradise sounded awfully nice. A hammock…Luke…no one around… She could spend an eternity like that, with the right man.
It was a shame she wouldn’t get to kiss Luke again, but at least she’d had him.
Luke felt, more than heard, a door open. He’d lost track of time after they’d put a bag over his head, hauled him off the plane, put him in some sort of vehicle, and bounced down roads for what felt like ages before depositing him in this room. He only knew Abigail wasn’t there, and he was sufficiently immobilized by three sets of handcuffs. He was willing to bet he’d never once been left alone.
A foot scraped against the floor. It wasn’t tile or hardwood, something rougher. Concrete? Stone? The air was cool, slightly damp, which made him think something underground. The air had been arid and dry when he was outside, and he hadn’t been able to keep track of how many stairs they’d descended before coming to this room.
Light footsteps tracked closer and closer until Luke could feel the presence of another body.
“I’m going to take the bag off now,” a man said. His voice was smooth, his English only slightly accented. “Don’t try anything.”
Luke held still while the man carefully loosened the drawstring around his neck and pulled the bag off his head.
Luke blinked, orienting himself. A single light bulb illuminated the small room. The floor and ceiling were rock. They were in some sort of cavern network carved into the earth. The walls were concrete, and the only point of entry was a heavy door. A camera was mounted into the ceiling and pointed straight at him. Besides his chair, there was nothing else in the cell.
The man was older than Luke, but still young, maybe late forties, early fifties, with a liberal peppering of silver at his temples. Unlike the men who had accompanied Luke on the trek here, this man wore a suit, the white shirt crisp and clean, his shoes freshly shined.
Either they were underground near some metropolitan area, or close enough for Beardy to get there by a vehicle or helo.
“That’s better.” The man backed up, the bag held behind him in clasped hands. “Luke Briar, you work for the Aegis Group.”
A statement. Not a question.
Luke eased back in the chair. As a SEAL, he was tasked with saying nothing. When captured, he could only state his name and rank, nothing else. Aegis held no such requirements on their men, in fact, the Admiral had encouraged the men to say whatever was necessary to ensure a speedy and safe return. But this wasn’t normal, and Luke wasn’t going to play ball.
“I understand you’ve become something of a companion to the woman we found you with.” The man tilted his head to the side. “Nothing to say for yourself?”
“I haven’t heard a question until now.”
“Then let me rephrase myself.”
“Be my guest, and while you’re at it,” he rattled the handcuffs, “want to get rid of these?”
“That’s up to you, Mr. Briar. The woman you were with, what do you call her?”
“My girlfriend.”
“Really?” The man’s lips thinned. He didn’t like that answer. “And what do you call your girlfriend?”
Did he tell the truth, or stick to the story?
“Abigail,” Luke replied.
“I see. And what if I were to tell you that—Abigail—is not her real name?”
“I’d tell you to fuck off.”
“Luke, if I may?”
“You may not.”
“Mr. Briar.” The smile was not friendly. “You seem to not understand the situation you’ve found yourself in—”
“I understand perfectly well. We were driving, minding our own God damned business, and your men ambushed a
nd kidnapped us. I’d like to talk to my girlfriend and a representative at the American Embassy. You have one of those here in Israel.” Luke prayed he could get someone on the horn. Maybe knowing about the bomb would be leverage enough? No, better to not breathe a word of it until they were out of here.
The man regarded him for a few moments.
“Aegis has a good reputation. You’re a smart man, Mr. Briar. I believe you are aware that, what did you call her? Abigail? Abigail is not what she appears. She is a traitor and very possibly a terrorist. We know her as Yael. We need to know where she has been. Who she has been with. It would go well for you if you were to share what you know with us.”
Luke tipped his chin up a bit.
Abigail had told him again and again to give up what he knew. She’d supplied him with dates, names, locations—everything this man would want. And it didn’t feel right.
“I think you’re wrong,” Luke said.
“I think you are either placing your trust in the wrong person, or she has you fleeced.”
“Looks like we’re not on the same team.” Luke shrugged. “About that call?”
The man stared at him for several seconds.
He rocked forward on one foot and pivoted toward the door.
Shit.
Some decision had been made. Something was happening.
What were they doing to Abigail?
The man tapped on the door, and it swung open.
They weren’t alone. How many people were there? Could Luke get free, break out? In time he had no doubt he could, but he was far more concerned about what they were doing to Abigail right now.
“Bring him.” The man walked through the door.
Two men in plain brown pants and shirts entered, one with keys, the other with a baton.
He eyed the baton wielder warily while the other loosened the cuffs attached to the chair and refastened them in double behind his back.
They either couldn’t—or wouldn’t—speak English. One said something, and the baton guy prodded him between the shoulders.
“I’m up, I’m up.” Luke stood and followed the guy with the keys, shuffling forward without haste.
They guided him down a hall. The stone ran along one side, above, and below while the right side was concrete. There were only four doors with viewing screens mounted next to them, and one exit he didn’t get the chance to see. Besides the two guards and Beardy, there didn’t appear to be anyone else.
Beardy opened a door and the guards led him into the cell at the very end. Luke barely glimpsed the screen before stepping in.
This one was larger, with two beds on either side, a table and a few chairs. There were four lights all trained on the chair bolted into the ground. Abigail was chained like some sort of crazed creature directly to the floor by handcuffs and chains on each wrist and ankle. Unlike him, she wasn’t blindfolded or bagged. Instead, she stared at the ground, her face impassive, smooth and unreadable.
Beardy gestured at the bed and spoke words Luke didn’t understand.
The key guy locked both of Luke’s wrists to the head of the bed and chained his ankles to the underside while the baton wielder stood back, eyeing Abigail more than Luke.
They were scared of her. Legitimately afraid. As if she could shake off those chains and rip them all to shreds. What kind of reputation did she have with these people?
“Here we are, all together.” Beardy grabbed a chair and sat facing Abigail but with a direct line of sight on Luke as well. Beardy spoke once more to the guards, who nodded and left, locking the door behind them. “Shall we speak English? That way your friend can understand us?”
Abigail didn’t respond, flinch, or even acknowledge Beardy’s question.
“How about we call the American Embassy now?” Luke asked.
“No one is speaking to you.” Beardy didn’t look at Luke, his eyes were all for Abigail. There was a predatory gleam in his eye. “He says your name is Abigail, that you’re his girlfriend. What have you told him, Yael? Who does he think you are?”
Beardy sat back, crossing his ankle over his knee, and bit his lower lip.
“Does he know the truth? Or did you lie to him to protect yourself? Use him as a cover? You were always good at using people.”
Who the hell was this guy?
Not once had Abigail used him. She’d tried again and again to get him to protect himself, to do what was in his own best interest. That wasn’t how a traitor or a terrorist behaved.
“Don’t listen to this guy, Abigail.” Luke leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees.
“Does Luke know you killed his friend? Ethan Turner was in that hotel room you blew up.”
“That wasn’t me,” Abigail said.
“Who else could it have been?” Beardy asked.
“I don’t know.” She kept her eyes on the floor.
“Did someone else kill the Smiths?” Beardy peered at her face. “You turned your back on your country, your mother, me, your people. The only people who would have you. After all of that, you just—what? Who have you been working for, Yael?”
She didn’t respond.
Luke wanted to break the handcuffs, stop the questioning, but he couldn’t.
On and on, Beardy asked about every single name Abigail had told Luke—and some she hadn’t. But she never once responded. Beardy detailed attacks, murders, bombings—all of which he had tied to her somehow. Occasionally, the man would lean back and ask her about some long ago operation, throw in a joke, some memory they shared, but she didn’t respond.
When nothing seemed to work, Beardy sat back, both feet on the floor. He’d practically forgotten Luke’s presence.
“I shouldn’t tell you this, but…your mother’s dead,” Beardy said in soft, gentle words. As if he cared.
Abigail’s eyes widened, her mouth worked silently.
“No, she isn’t,” Luke said.
“She is.”
“When?” Abigail asked.
“Three weeks ago.” Beardy’s gaze softened.
“How would you know? How do we know you aren’t just telling us that?” Luke yanked against the handcuffs.
Beardy finally glanced at him and flicked his fingers toward Abigail. “We might not have worked out, but I cared deeply for my former mother-in-law.”
Wait.
Mother-in-law?
Beardy…was Abigail’s ex-husband?
10.
Zacharias gnawed on the plastic fork.
She was in the damn pit. The Pit. And there was no way for him to get to her.
Yael was under constant supervision. He couldn’t eliminate her while cameras and microphones tracked her every movement. Even if he could, they had that damn man in there with her because Baron had some stupid notion that she’d say things in order to protect him. If he could get the cameras off, even for a moment, he’d have to put them both down and that would cause a ruckus with those tasked with watching her every move.
Damn it.
The pieces of her life since her defection were falling into place. The Mossad hound dogs were ferreting out everything. It wouldn’t be long until someone asked her the right question and she gave him up. Even if she didn’t realize what she knew, someone watching would. And there was always someone watching Yael. She was the most decorated clandestine combatant since Sylvia. And Yael had been a loose cannon for years.
He had to put a stop to her mouth, the questioning. But there was no way to do that with her still in The Pit. He needed to get her out of there. Spring her himself, or go on a campaign for her freedom.
The monitor image flickered, but neither Yael or the man with her moved.
He’d been watching the feed since they were brought in. He was likely to get a stupid commendation for acting so fast, not that it mattered. Mossad still had her. She was right there—and still out of his grasp.
Maybe he was going about this all wrong.
Who was the man? Luke Briar. What skeletons were in h
is closet? Could those be used to spring them? Maybe this man was the key. The answer to all the problems.
What had the analysts said about him? It was all a blur. Except for one name.
Nador.
A Lybian mercenary with a beef against Aegis Group. Nador had a nasty reputation and a penchant for shedding blood. A man like that could be awfully useful at a time like this.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend…
And Zacharias always needed new friends to throw under the bus.
Abigail closed her eyes and let her head hang forward.
It was over.
She was done for.
Baron would have no pity for her, but he was not a cruel man. At least he hadn’t been after they were granted a divorce. Now she wasn’t so sure. Leaving Luke in here with her was another kind of torture altogether.
The harsh, glaring lights felt as though they were all around her. It was intentional. Designed to disorient captives. After all, most people who went into The Pit never came out again. At least not in one piece. Luke might be one of the few, if he’d just cooperate.
Leaving Luke in here was by design. One of the things they did during training was to imprison the recruits, sometimes with spies planted in their midst to get people talking. She’d been on both sides of the scenario, both in practice and reality. All Baron had to do was listen to them talk and he’d learn far more than she wanted him to.
Chains rattled.
“Abigail? You okay?”
No, she was slowly dying inside.
“Was he really your husband?”
There it was.
The burning question she’d felt the moment Baron uttered those words.
“Yes,” she said.
There was no reason to deny it. She wasn’t ashamed of her failed marriage. At least not in the same way Baron had been.
“What? When?” The pitch of his voice went up, the disbelief a clear tone.
“I was…fifteen when we were engaged. It was an arranged marriage.”
“Why?”
“It’s a long story.” An invisible hand squeezed her heart. Someone might as well know all of it. After this, Mossad would bury any mention of her name. At least Luke could know the whole truth. “My parents moved to America. My father was a rabbi. He wanted to see more of the world. He was…he was the last son in an old bloodline. My mother did not take his death well. We were poor before I knew it. My mother moved us back to Israel in the hopes that my uncle, her brother, could help us. He spent the last of our money, and we would have been homeless if it weren’t for Baron’s family. Our fathers were friends, and one night his mother comes to us and says they have a solution.”
Dangerous Assignment (Aegis Group Book 4) Page 11
