Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Mia (Kindle Worlds)

by Anne L. Parks

  Ben picked up the phone, and put it to his ear. Who the hell wants to talk to me? He didn't know of anyone besides Tex that was in Virginia Beach.

  "Humps," a different male voice came on the line.

  "Mozart? What the hell are you doing in Va-Beach?" Mozart had been another teammate of Ben's in San Diego with Wolf.

  "Just taking a break."

  "When are you heading back to San Diego?"

  "Tomorrow."

  Crap. Ben was hoping Mozart might be back up if shit went south.

  "Why?" Mozart asked. "You need me?"

  "Nah, it's okay."

  "Bullshit, you wouldn't have asked if you didn't need something."

  "I don't want you to change your plans for something that might turn out to be a big nothing."

  "Look, man, Tex is muttering to himself, and his hands are flying over the computer keyboard. Whatever you asked him for, he is taking very seriously. Tell me what the hell is going on."

  Ben took a deep breath and relayed all the information they had so far.

  "I'll be up there in about four or five hours."

  "Thanks, man. I owe ya."

  "See ya soon."

  8

  The lobby of the U.S. Senate Building was eerily quiet on a Sunday. Mia's high heels clicked as they walked toward security, and reverberated through the cavernous space. Ben figured the shuffling of bodies that filled the space during a normal workday probably muffled the sound. But no one except the Capital police officer eyeing them suspiciously occupied the space.

  JJ's email to Ben stated Senator Hutton had a full schedule during the week and would be unable to meet with them, but was "happy to see them at his office on Sunday." Mia had been impressed that Hutton would take time from his day off to see them. Ben had a bad feeling, but was unable to actually pinpoint what it was that was bothering him. Maybe that his buddy had returned his email so quickly? Or that Hutton was being so magnanimous meeting two people he didn't know from Adam and Eve to discuss a potential problem with his charitable foundation?

  They gave their names to the security guard, were given visitor badges, and passed through the metal detector. The hairs at the nape of Ben's neck were standing on end. Mia must have picked up on his wariness because she slipped her hand into his as they got onto the elevator, and whispered in his ear, "From everything I have ever heard about Senator Hutton, he is a very nice man."

  Ben didn't trust nice men. The ones he had dealt with in the past were akin to used car salesmen, oily and slick and unreliable. But he didn't share that with Mia. Instead he gave her hand a squeeze and smiled at her. It must have satisfied her, because she exhaled and her shoulders dropped a little.

  Two men wearing khakis and black polo shirts met them at the elevator and escorted them down a long hallway into a small office. Both Thing One and Thing Two had standard issue Browning nine millimeters holstered at their sides, and probably smaller ones on the lower leg or ankle. Opening a large door, Thing One gestured for them to pass through. Two more men, dressed identical to the other men—down to the holstered guns, buzz cuts, and grim facial expressions—stood in front of two windows. They flanked a tall man in black pants and a white polo shirt who was walking toward them, hand extended, big smile and bright teeth.

  "I'm Will Hutton," he said, taking Mia's hand first, then Ben's. It was a firm handshake, which relieved some of the tension knotting Ben's shoulders. At least Hutton hadn't been inside the beltway so long he had become limp-wristed.

  "Thank you so much for seeing us on short notice," Mia said. "We apologize for taking up your Sunday."

  Hutton waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Not at all. I was happy to have an excuse to cancel my golf outing." He looked directly at Ben. "I hate the game, but in this business, it's a necessary evil. The fact that I'm one of the worst golfers in both the House and Senate makes me highly sought after on the weekends."

  "Why is that?" Mia asked, her eyebrows crinkling together.

  "Because I make whoever I'm playing with feel like Sergio Garcia."

  Mia chuckled, so Ben took his cue from her that the Senator had cracked a good joke. Ben had no clue who Sergio Garcia was, or what he had to do with golfing on a Sunday—and he didn't really give a rat's ass. Thank God Mia was good at the small talk and proper civil discourse required of the situation.

  Hutton stepped toward a seating area next to a fireplace where there were two wingback leather chairs and a love seat. Ben watched Mia sink into the small couch and decided to take one of the leather chairs. He didn't want to be hampered by struggling to stand, if he needed to get up in a hurry.

  Quickly glancing around the room, Ben took note of things that he could use as a weapon. Hutton had a pen clipped to his shirt. That would be problematic unless Ben was close enough to the man to grab it. An umbrella was in a stand just to the left of the door leading to the reception. Too far away to be accessible, but still a potential. A glass paperweight sat on the small table in front of him—perfect. Small enough to palm in his hand, but heavy enough to cause damage if cracked against a skull.

  Thing Three and Four flanked Hutton. Thing Two left through they came in, closing it behind him. There were two other doors in the office. One was slightly ajar, and Ben could see a vanity and sink. Personal head—nice perk of the job. Ben guessed the other door was a separate entry that didn't dictate going through the reception area. Thing One stood in front of the door, wide stance, and narrowed eyes.

  "So, JJ said you had some information regarding my charitable foundation that you wished to speak to me about privately?" Hutton was the picture of cool composure. If he had any idea about what they were about to unload on him, he was holding it close to the vest because he didn't look the least bit concerned.

  "Yes," Mia said, and glanced at Ben. "I'm a CPA for Lawton & Tinder, and due to the death of one of my colleagues, the Hutton Foundation file found its way to my desk. Since I'm not familiar with the foundation, from an accounting standpoint, I had to delve into the numbers in order to gain a better perspective of how the accounts were set up, the way the foundations handles donations and disbursements—that sort of thing."

  Hutton continued to sit, unfettered by anything Mia was saying. Was he truly in the dark about what was going on, or just a master of the poker face?

  "Let me say upfront that the foundation, on a whole, has no issues and seems to be running smoothly. However, I did come across one area that seemed to be run outside the main accounting structure of the foundation. CALICO."

  Hutton's eyes flashed with recognition for just a second. His nostrils flared, and one hand gripped the arm of the chair before releasing in the next second.

  He knows about CALICO…but to what extent?

  Mia paused. Ben didn't know if she had picked up on Hutton's reaction or not, and wasn't willing to pull his attention away from the senator to find out.

  "Unfortunately, I discovered some…odd…accounting practices associated with this specific charity."

  Hutton's eyebrows drew together and he tilted his head to one side. "What did you find?"

  The question set off alarm bells in Ben. Not "what practices do you mean?" or "that's odd..how so?" No, Hutton was concerned with what Mia had found out and that worried Ben. What troubled him more was the four armed men, a nearly empty building on a weekend, and no weapons of his own. No way would he have made it through security with his gun, or even a knife. If shit went down, it was going to be hard to outmaneuver the arsenal against them.

  Hard, but not impossible. Unaware and untrained Mia was the variable. Ben would do whatever necessary to keep her safe. Even if it meant he had to go down in order to save her. She had all the knowledge about the foundation's dealings, so she was the one that had to get out alive and unscathed.

  Plus, she was occupying a hefty chunk of real estate in Ben's heart, and the thought of her getting hurt—or worse—churned the acid in his stomach and made his brain seize from an icy chill.
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br />   Mia cleared her throat. "Large cash donations that come in and go out within twenty-four hours without any notations of what the funds are being used for. It seems to be a separate entity from the rest of the foundation's accounts, and I suspect it's being used for illegal purposes." Peripherally, Ben could see Mia shift slightly in her seat. He hoped she could sense that she may need to get up quickly and bolt.

  "I see," Hutton said, his gaze squarely on Mia. "What do you surmise is the illegal activity?"

  "In my estimation, it appears to be a classic money laundering scheme. The anonymous cash donations that can't be traced, and the amounts being transferred to a charity that doesn't appear anywhere else in the foundation's ledger is of grave concern."

  Hutton inhaled deeply and held it for a long moment before exhaling. "If you're correct, this is all very disturbing. You say you don't know where the money is coming from?"

  "No, as I said, they're all cash donations from undisclosed sources."

  Hutton shook his head. "Can you forward what you have found to me?"

  "Of course," Mia said.

  Hutton placed his hands on his knees and looked down at the floor. Ben knew the meeting was over. That didn't bode well for them. Hutton had barely asked any questions. His outrage was surface level, as if for show. Not the deep-rooted outrage of a man that has been told his charitable organization is being used to launder money. The allegation alone could end his career.

  The chances of the two of them getting out of the building alive was looking less and less certain.

  Ben stood as Hutton began to rise from his chair. Mia took the cue, as well, and stepped closer to Ben.

  He quickly assessed the situation. Three Things inside the office. One Thing whose whereabouts are unknown. Ben wasn't going to assume he was in the reception area—he could be anywhere, and doing any number of things, including setting up an ambush for when they left the building. If the situation dictated getting the fuck out without haste, he had two options. Doorway one led to the reception where two Things stood between Ben, Mia, and the door and the Thing with unknown whereabouts. Door number two only had one Thing in the way, but Ben had no idea what was actually behind the door. Unless Hutton had bodies stored in a closet, it was probably safe to assume it was a private entrance. Assuming made Ben extremely twitchy. Still, it was their best option if shit hit the fan.

  "Does anyone else know about this?" Hutton asked.

  "No," Ben said before Mia could open her mouth. "And all the files are in a secure location."

  Hutton nodded. "I appreciate you taking such care with them. I can assure you I will be looking into this situation and will get to the bottom of any illegal activity there is." He looked at one of the guards standing by the door. "Can you please escort Mr. Wells and Ms. Rowland out?"

  Thing One nodded. Hutton came around to shake hands with Ben and Mia again. He held on to Mia's hand. "It was wonderful to meet you both, I just wish it could've been under better circumstances."

  The guard opened the door to the outer office. Ben placed his hand on Mia's lower back. Why did it bother him so much that Hutton was touching Mia? Was it instinctive protection of her in a potentially dangerous situation? Or was it the stirrings of the green-eyed monster of jealousy?

  Whatever it was, Ben needed Hutton to let go of Mia, and step the fuck away.

  "You mentioned a name—the charity, I believe—Calico? Do you have any idea what that is, or where the money is going?" Hutton asked, looking first at Mia, then swinging his gaze to Ben.

  Darkness flooded the Senator's eyes. He isn't asking because he wants an answer. He wants to know if they have figured out who or what the mysterious CALICO is. Having that knowledge must be the key to exposing the real secrets he wants to remain undiscovered.

  "No," Mia said. She gave Ben a quick side glance. "I'm sorry we couldn't be more helpful. I hope you're able to figure it out, though."

  Good girl. Make him think we're done looking into the foundation or the fake charity.

  Hutton stared at Mia for a moment, his face blank, and his eyes cold. Blinking, he returned to his personable public servant persona, complete with disingenuous smile. "Thank you, again." He released Mia's hand, and a weight lifted from the center of Ben's chest. "My men will show you out."

  Ben moved Mia in front of him as they walked out, following the two guards. With Mia blocking him, Ben shot a text off to Tex letting him know they were in trouble and needed an escape.

  Fucked. Need alt exit.

  The reply came almost instantly.

  Copy. Standby.

  Ben kept one eye on where they were going, and the other on the dancing dots indicating Tex was typing. They passed by the elevator they had taken when they arrived, and continued down the hall. Okay, not exiting the way we came in. Probably taking us somewhere isolated. Mia glanced over her shoulder at Ben, her eyes wide. She opened her mouth, but Ben shook his head before she spoke. No need to tip off the Things that they were onto them. Ben wanted the element of surprise on his side, not the other way around.

  Tex's message popped on the screen.

  Basement. Capital subway to Banneker Park. DC Wharf. Mozart waiting.

  Ben quickly typed a response.

  Copy. Out here.

  At the end of the hallway was a service elevator. Thing One pressed the down button while Thing Two turned to watch Ben and Mia. Ben slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. The elevator doors opened. Thing Two stepped in and stood toward the back of the car. Thing One gestured for Ben and Mia to enter. Ben stood behind Mia, his hand splayed at the center of her back.

  As the doors started to close, Ben shoved Mia hard. Stumbling forward, she sprawled on the floor in the hallway. The last sight Ben had was after she rolled over and glared at him through the diminishing sliver of the closing doors.

  Thing One turned toward Ben, his eyebrows drawn together. Caught him off guard—good! Ben cocked his elbow and thrust it upwards into the man's nose. Blood spurted out and sprayed the front of his shirt. Before the man could regain his bearings and was still a bit off kilter, Ben curled his right hand into a fist and punched the guard with his full weight and strength concentrated on the man's jaw. The hit spun the guard around, and he slumped to the floor.

  Ben faced Thing Two. His service revolver was out of his holster, and he was raising it level with Ben's center mass. Ben grasped the muzzle and forced it up.

  A shot reverberated through the car. A small hole ripped through the ceiling of the elevator. Ben wrapped his hands around the grip of the gun. He slammed the gun against the side of the elevator encouraging Thing Two to release it. On the third hit, Ben heard a loud snap. The tension in the guard's arm gave, bone protruding through the skin at a location not meant to bend. The gun clattered to the elevator floor. Groaning, the man launched his body at Ben.

  Ben grabbed the gun, squared his shoulders, and fired a round into the man's chest. The guard dropped to the floor. A sucking, gurgling sound came from his chest. Struggling to take a breath, the guard finally gave up the ghost, and then stilled. Ben watched the man's eyes glaze over as life left his body.

  No time to mourn the dead, or second guess his actions. Ben was not out of the woods yet. And Mia was all alone two floors above him. He pressed the button for the third floor.

  The guard slumped in the corner stirred. He lifted his head, his gaze connecting with Ben's. Rage and recognition crossed his face. He pulled himself up, and unholstered his gun. Ben considered hitting the man again, but a miss—or even a near miss—would leave Ben vulnerable to be shot. There was only one choice. Ben's training took over. This man was the enemy. And enemies were eliminated.

  Pulling the hammer back on the gun, he squared the barrel center mass, and put a single shot in the man's heart. The guard slumped over without making another move.

  The elevator dinged. Ben stood to the side, and carefully peered around the corner into the hallway as the doors slid open.

  E
mpty.

  For now.

  No doubt the three gunshots had been heard. Soon law enforcement from every major division in DC would be swarming the area. The building would be locked down with no way out. Before that happened, Ben and Mia needed to be far away from there.

  Mia.

  She was alone on the fifth floor, probably wondering what the hell just happened, and thinking Ben had sacrificed her to the wolves to save his own ass.

  He had to find her, make sure she was uninjured, and get her to safety. He had made her a promise. There was nothing short of his own death that would prevent him from keeping it.

  The elevator was off limits. Security had probably already shut them all down. He would have to take the stairs. Bolting across the hall, he sent up a quick prayer that Mia was okay, and ducked into the stairwell.

  Mia rolled over and caught sight of Ben on the elevator staring at her. What the hell was going on? Why had he pushed her off the elevator? And why hadn't he gotten off with her?

  Was he leaving her there to fend for herself?

  Red hot rage boiled in her veins, and she glared at Ben as the elevator doors closed. She scrambled to her feet, intent on pressing the button to get the doors to open again, but stopped short. Was that really such a good idea? Even though she hadn't been able to talk to Ben since leaving Senator Hutton's office, she had sensed Ben's tension ramp up. Once the guards passed the main elevators to the lobby, Mia knew they were in trouble.

  Calling the elevator back was probably not in her best interest…

  But what the hell was she supposed to do? Ben was on the elevator with the two guards. She knew he wasn't armed. How in the world would he manage to take down two armed men with his bare hands? Sure, he was a Navy SEAL. And trained in hand-to-hand combat. But hand-to-gun combat? That didn't seem possible outside of Hollywood.

  Mia glanced down the hall. She could attempt to get on the elevator, take it to the lobby, and try to get out the same way she came in. Security may stop her on the way out, though, and question her as to why Ben wasn't with her. Staying in the building any longer than necessary also risked the senator's gunmen finding her.