After pulling on the fatigues he smeared the dark green paint on his face. He strapped on the pistols, one in a holster on his right leg, the other in a shoulder holster, looped the canteen around his neck, and attached the GPS unit to his wrist. When finished dressing, he blasted himself in a fog of bug spray. He crammed the empty duffel, the camera, binoculars, and the Ghillie into the backpack and shrugged into it. Last he grabbed the rifle. The weapons were an absolute last resort. If he was drawn into a fire-fight the kidnappers would be alerted, further endangering Morgan’s family.
Grant stood still, attenuating himself to the sounds of the forest. These mountains were full of wildlife. A vast array of tropical birds, lizards, snakes, insects, arachnids, and mammals. Many of them dangerous. Some of the more recognizable and deadly denizens were Boas, Coral snakes, rattlers, and scorpions. Although rare, the occasional jaguar was also known to hunt in the area. The Chupacabra, the mythical goat sucker, was also rumored to haunt these jungles. Not to mention the plethora of biting insects. Forcing himself into the sniper’s mindset he eased into the jungle, attempting to become a part of it. To rush was to die. And more lives than his were at stake.
* * * * *
Lying in the fronds of a clump of low growing tropical bushes Grant studied the sprawling compound beneath him through his binoculars. He dabbed the sweat off his forehead with a sleeve so he wouldn’t smear away the face paint. Over the last two hours he had begun to feel his age for the first time in a long while. Sneaking and crawling through dense sweltering jungle was an activity for the young. An encounter with a rather large Boa Constrictor had almost given him heart failure. While lying in the brush, scanning the open area around a stream before he crossed it, the creature had crawled over him.
Yep. He was definitely too old. Grant was positioned on one of the hills bordering the mansion and its grounds. The dense jungle and mountainous terrain provided an almost impenetrable curtain to shield the compound from unwanted observation. A yacht and a couple of speedboats were moored at a wooden dock jutting from a strip of private beach at the rear of the property.
Grant suspected this place was either borrowed or rented. The expansive windows on the front of the main house afforded clear views of some of the interior rooms. There were no maids, butlers, or any household staff in evidence. No kids or wives. None of the ubiquitous bathing beauties by the pool either. What kind of scum sucking criminals didn’t have babes by the pool? Professionals.
Men with guns were everywhere. All coordinated and alert. So far, Grant counted twenty. The only one who appeared to be Mexican was the contact man sent to meet Tedesco. The man he identified as the leader, and many of his subordinates, appeared to have Asian features. Grant realized he wasn’t dealing with simple kidnappers. The more he watched, the more he realized this was a sophisticated clandestine operation on an immense scale. These guys were pros.
The most heartening discovery was that of Morgan’s family. They all appeared to be none the worse for wear. They were in the living room on the lower floor of the main house, visible through the expansive floor to ceiling windows. The windows would afford those inside three hundred and sixty degrees views of the majestic hills and the ocean surrounding the house. Morgan’s wife, daughter, son-in-law, grandson, and granddaughter were all gathered around a table eating a meal. Grant zoomed in on the little boy, then the girl. Though her eyes were dry her angelic face was puffy from recently shed tears. She should have been at home, coloring, playing with dolls, melting her brain on Disney Channel re-runs. Safe. No child should have their innocence and sense of security stolen this way. Her fork froze mid bite and she crumpled into tears, sobs shaking her whole body. Grant swallowed a lump in his throat as the girl’s mother grabbed her and began to try to comfort her. Grant assumed the lady must be Robin, Dr. Morgan’s daughter. She patted the girl’s back, staring daggers at the guard who pointed a gun toward her and her child. Grant wanted to rip into these cold-hearted bastards. Blast them all to hell. Right now. He bit back his anger. One look at the kids and this mission had become personal. Hang on sweetheart. We’re coming for you.
After finishing the meal, two guards escorted the family to a guest house about fifty yards from the main house and locked them inside.
Grant continued to study the deployment of the sentries. The level of professionalism was astounding and it scared him. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t this. He also realized these guys wouldn’t just want the formula for the virus; they would want its creator as well. To pull this off Grant would have to be on top of his game. So would they all.
He retrieved the camera from the backpack and began snapping shots of the compound. Satisfied he had enough photos from this angle, he pushed back with his elbows, and slid out of sight of the sentries. He pulled out his ghillie suit and examined the improvements he had made using local flora.
After Grant survived the rigorous selection process to become a member of the elite hostage rescue team, he had been pumped. Ready to crash through doors, armed to the teeth, kick some ass while bagging bad guys and saving lives. When he was tagged for sniper training he had been pissed. He wanted to be on the front line, leading the charge. But despite his misgivings he excelled at the job, both in training and missions. At sniper training school at Fort Benning he trained with army snipers. And after a less than auspicious start, he began to apply himself, eventually even gaining the respect of the Special Forces instructors and operators.
He donned the ghillie and lay flat on the ground. He needed to get close to gather some more intel, and he would need all his skills to succeed. Rescuing Dr. Morgan’s family would be difficult. Surprise would be the only thing in their favor.
FIFTEEN
Jaime sat at the small table by the room’s sliding glass door. She watched the sunlight dance and wink over the small ripples in the pool. Scott Evans sat across from her, studying a small handheld monitor perched on the table’s top. Its small screen cycled through the security cameras on the Krystal’s grounds.
The hiss of water running through the shower head ceased after about fifteen minutes.
“So. What’s the deal?” Evans inclined his head toward the bathroom. “Between Grant and Tedesco I mean.”
“Tedesco killed Grant’s family. His mother, father, wife, and son. And attempted to kill his sister.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“Damn.” Evans shook his head. “He must want to kill him.”
“Oh, he does. Believe me.”
The door to the bathroom swung open and Grant emerged shrouded in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. Jaime swallowed. Although Grant had lost the endearing boyish look he used to his advantage in the field, the hard planes and chiseled features he now possessed made him even more handsome. And the sculpted muscles of his torso didn’t hurt either.
Nope, not at all.
She tried not to be obvious about staring as he went about collecting clothes before returning to the bathroom. But, before he entered, he caught her gawking and shot her a smile.
When she turned back she noticed Evans staring at her. “What?”
“I don’t mean to pry, but maybe you should tell him how you feel.”
Jaime wanted to be offended, to deny it, but she couldn’t. “Is it that obvious?”
Evans raised a finger and pointed to his wedding ring. “I almost let my wife slip away. We worked together and I was afraid to tell her how I felt. The only thing was she felt the same way. It took a mutual friend to show me the light.” He smiled. “You know, I’ve been in some pretty tense situations. But, taking enemy fire was nothing compared to getting up the nerve to tell her I loved her.” Evans looked Jaime in the eye. “But it was worth it.”
Jaime wanted to argue, tell him he was crazy. She hadn’t even sorted out her own feelings, but she knew he was right. If it was that obvious to a man she had just met, did Grant know? She stammered like a school g
irl. “It’s just … well … you don’t understand …” Before she could finish stuttering out her excuses, Grant emerged from the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt.
He moved to the table and clapped Evans on the shoulder. “Let’s move to your room,” Grant said. “We need to be close if Morgan and Tedesco need us.” Grant nodded toward the handheld. “Seen anything?”
“Uh, uh.” Evans shook his head. “So. You got a plan?”
Grant seemed to mull it over. “I do. What about you? Any ideas?”
“Yeah. Call in backup.”
Jaime piped up. “You know, that’s not such a bad idea. Why don’t we call in some help?”
“I agree,” Grant said. “Backup would be great. But, you’re forgetting a couple of things.” Grant held up a finger. “As soon as we get back on the radar, Colonel from Hell Cane will be all over us.” He held up a second finger. “And you can be damn sure that someone in the local constabulary has been paid off by the kidnapper’s.” When neither of the two offered an argument, he continued. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. We’re going to get them out of there.” Grant understood their concerns, he shared them. But they didn’t have a whole lot of options.
* * * * *
The trio waited in Evans’ room. For the fifth time in the last minute Grant checked his watch. The kidnappers’ deadline to call was in two minutes. A power play. Making them sweat it out to the last second. The only thing in their favor was the abductors’ desire for the virus formula.
Evans monitored their surveillance equipment. The man had also tapped Tedesco and Morgan’s hotel room phone.
One wall of the room was dominated by a series of photos pinned in place to provide the group with an overview of the kidnappers’ compound. Jaime studied them, hands on her hips. “Do you really think we can pull this off?”
Grant didn’t know which one of them she was asking, but he answered. “We have to. There's no alternative.” He checked the time again. The deadline had passed. An obvious ploy, icing them, trying to regain the upper hand. An idea pierced Grant’s thoughts like a dart.
What would he do in their situation?
He turned to the group. “They’re coming for him.” Why settle for the formula and the case when you can get your hands on the creator? The kidnapper’s had all the leverage. Even if an attempt on the doctor failed, they still had the man’s family. And if they got their hands on Morgan … well, it would be no problem to force his cooperation with threats to his family. More than likely, just to show they meant business, they would kill one of them to make the point.
* * * * *
Alfred Morgan paced the room. He seemed to have aged ten years in the last few days, as if the life was being drained from him. It was obvious that worry and self doubt gnawed his spirit, attempting to steal his resolve. “Ted … umm … Jimmy.” He forced a smile.
Tedesco just nodded and forced a smile of his own.
Alfred appeared about to snap, a tear pooled in his right eye. “Did we do the right thing? Are they going to call?”
“It’s going to be okay, Doc, I promise.” Tedesco put a hand on the man’s shoulder and gently maneuvered him into a chair. “Your family is all right. We know that. We know where they are. If we don’t get the call, we’re going after them.”
A sigh and a nod were the only reply.
To be honest self-doubt plagued Tedesco as well. Before he could dwell too long on his fears, a call came over the radio.
“Boom.”
Tedesco moved to retrieve the radio from the table. “I’m here.”
“I think they’re going to make a move,” Grant said. “Be on your toes. Is the case ready?”
“Yes.” Tedesco moved his gaze to the case. Identical to the one he gave the kidnapper’s. The one that brought Grant crashing back into his life.
“Sit tight. We’ll be down in a minute.”
* * * * *
Grant laid the radio on the table. “I think we need to move. Now.” He turned to study their equipment. If he had a team, properly equipped, they could storm the compound, overwhelm the opposition, and save those people. But he didn’t. He planned to wait until early morning, to use biorhythms to advantage. Now, it appeared they must move up the schedule. The original plan called for Morgan and Tedesco to convince the kidnapper’s to bring the family to an exchange. Allowing their little band to grab the family. But—
“We’ve got company,” Evans pointed to his screen.
Jaime and Grant moved to look over his shoulder. It took Grant a second to locate what Evans had seen. Three black clad figures slipped through the shadows toward the patio door at Tedesco’s room.
Evans pulled up the other cameras surrounding their building on a split-screen. He pointed. “Look.”
A man stepped into the hall. Grant recognized him as one of the kidnapper’s men. Dark hair and ovoid dark eyes further marked him. The man stopped near Tedesco’s room.
Evans moved to the dresser and grabbed a shotgun and pumped a round into the chamber, before grabbing a pistol.
Jaime picked up the radio and called Tedesco. “They’re coming. Three in the back. One in the front.”
Evans rushed toward the door.
“Wait,” Grant called. He placed a hand on Evans’ chest. “If we get into a shoot out here, it’s going to bring the cops. We need to do this quietly.”
“I’ll go,” Grant said. “You two stay here.”
“No way,” Evans said. “We can’t risk it. You can’t take out all four without firing a gun.”
Grant moved to the dresser and grabbed the Equatorian knife and his radio from the table. “We can’t tip our hand. Our priority is getting the family back.” He stepped between Evans and the door. “If anything goes wrong.” He pointed to the pictures of the children. “You two will be their only hope.” He gripped Evans’ arm. “You pack up. Make sure that boat is waiting.”
Before any further argument could occur, Grant slipped the knife into his waistband at the small of his back and the radio in his pocket before he opened the door. The man in the hall eyed Grant then turned his head away. He leaned against the wall, obviously waiting for his comrades to get in position. He would more than likely knock at a predetermined time while his partners burst in through the rear glass doors. At least that’s how Grant would set it up.
Grant hunched his shoulders and stumbled down the hall, attempting to appear drunk. He mumbled and hummed the words to an Eddie Money tune. “I … two tickets … paradise.”
As Grant ambled down the hall he studied the man. The bulge of a shoulder holster was evident beneath his stylish summer weight blazer. As Grant approached the man crossed his arms, right hand slipping beneath the jacket, eyes wary.
“Evening.” Grant called a greeting.
When he came abreast he stumbled on the carpet and snaked out his left hand, pressing the man’s right hand against his chest, ruining his ability to draw. Grant followed with a right cross to the chin. He grabbed the back of the man’s head and pulled it down, before delivering a knee into his abdomen. The strike slammed the air from the man’s lungs, forcing him back into the wall. Grant pressed a forearm against his throat, pinning him, and used the opposite hand to rip the gun from the man’s holster. The man made a weak attempt to fight back, but Grant pressed the gun to his temple. As he pulled the gun away he lashed out with the edge of his other hand, smashing the side of the man’s neck with a knife-hand strike.
The man crumpled to the floor like a bag of skin with no bones.
Grant grabbed the back of the man’s jacket and dragged him toward Tedesco’s door and knocked in the predetermined pattern.
Tedesco ripped the door open.
“Get to Evans room,” Grant said. “Both of you. Out. Now.”
Tedesco retrieved the case and he and Morgan moved toward the door.
“I’ve got an idea. Let me have that.” Grant grabbed the case from Tedesco’s hand. “Go.” The question was whether
he would have a chance to put the idea in play.
The two of them fled the room. Grant set the case on the floor and used his belt to tie the unconscious man’s hands. Grant dragged his captive into the bathroom and doused the room’s lights. His watch indicated 9:28. He bet they would move at 9:30. Wait in here or —?
He grabbed the case and sprinted out the door. If he worked this correctly, it could be to his advantage.
Or, it could be a colossal screw up.
He flew down the hall and burst through the building’s exit and zoomed to the walkway on the left, angling toward the back. When he reached the corner he forced himself to slow down. Breathe. Listen.
Grant stopped in a pool of shadow beneath a palm tree. The gloom swallowed him. A breeze cooled the sheen of sweat on his forehead while he scanned the courtyard, searching for the intruders. Pleasant as it was, a waterfall bubbling into the pool masked other sounds. The gentle wind rustled the tips of the abundant trees, animating the plethora of shadows, making it difficult to identify movement. Accent lighting in blue, green, and yellow, shone on flowerbeds, towering palms, and trickling fountains. He focused his search on the areas near the patio of Tedesco’s room.
The Assassin's Case Page 11
