Knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate with that scenario hanging over his head, he opted for the first available time slot, deciding he would have just enough time to get his range practice in before meeting with NCIS.
Thankfully, the squad he joined had already lined up when he arrived, allowing Damian to avoid the pesky questions he didn’t want to answer. He found the lieutenant in charge, introduced himself, and chose a station on the end.
After checking over his weapon, he lined up with his target, squeezed the trigger, and wondered what the rest of his squad was doing right now.
* * *
Amy paced back and forth across the boardroom her team had been assigned when they’d first arrived on board. After a half-hour search, the seaman had returned with the news that he couldn’t locate the pilot. A page went out over the shipwide communications system, but it went unanswered. Now security was combing the ship, and Amy was stuck waiting for news.
As minutes ticked by, she repeatedly checked for updated intelligence reports on her husband’s mission, on Morenta, or on the area in general. The only news was that there was no new news. She used her intelligence access to check other cable traffic in the area, including Colombia. Again, she found nothing.
She tried to think of anything that would have caused her squad to fail to check in, but only two reasons came to mind: one was that something had happened to them after the pilot had dropped them off, and the other was that Brent had forgotten. She supposed it was possible. After all, she hadn’t mentioned that she expected a communication to anyone besides her husband. She hadn’t thought she would need to. He had never forgotten before.
She tried to fight against the fear that was causing worst-case scenarios to fester in her mind, but one single thought continued to eat at her. These men were the best at what they did. If they were in trouble, somehow, one of them would have figured out a way to get a message through.
After what felt like forever, the door to the boardroom opened and the captain entered. Since she normally dealt with the XO, his presence alone was enough to send another wave of trepidation crashing over her. “What’s wrong?”
“Still no word from your squad, but we found the pilot.”
“What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything.” The captain’s eyes met hers when he added grimly, “He’s dead.”
“Dead? What happened?”
“He was stabbed. He had changed out of his flight gear, but the doctor thinks he was killed within an hour of returning to the ship.”
Apprehension pierced through Amy at the unexpected news. She remained silent for a moment while she absorbed this new fact. “Is there anyone else who would be able to verify that the Saint Squad made it in okay?”
“I’m afraid not.” The captain shook his head. “We did check to make sure none of their homing devices were active. Other than that, all we would have is the pilot’s word.”
Amy knew the mission well, and she also understood military procedure. “Since they’re scheduled for extraction tonight, I guess we’re proceeding as planned.”
“That’s right.” He gave her an understanding look. “Hopefully the lieutenant commander just got focused on the mission and neglected to call in.”
“Hopefully.” Amy’s jaw set. “But if that’s the case, the doctor had better be ready for another casualty because my husband is going to pay for making me worry.”
The captain’s lips curved up slightly. “I’ll let you know if we have any contact.”
“Thank you, Captain.” Amy watched him go, but as soon as she was alone, she picked up the phone and requested a secure line. The navy might be bound by procedures, but that didn’t mean she had to sit idly by.
As soon as the line was available, she made her call. “Kel, I need your help. And I think we may need Vanessa’s help too.”
* * *
Paige sat across the room from Vanessa and watched her tension level increase exponentially. Vanessa said very little, but obviously, whatever the person on the other end of the line was telling her wasn’t good news.
She hung up and seemed to take a moment to settle her emotions. Then she said, “I want you to drop what you’re working on and pull up everything you can find on Morenta.”
“Who’s he?”
“A Colombian drug lord.” Vanessa sat at her desk and started typing on her own keyboard. “I especially need anything you can find that ties him to Venezuela. Any properties he owns there, business alliances—anything.”
“I’ll do what I can. When do you need it by?”
“Yesterday.” The printer on Vanessa’s desk started humming, and Vanessa stood. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’ll need everything you’ve got by then.”
Paige watched her boss snatch the paper off the printer and rush out of the room. Not sure what to think about Vanessa’s uncharacteristic sense of urgency, Paige started a database search with one hand and picked up her phone with the other.
She called the Latin American operations desk at headquarters and requested everything they had on Morenta. Then she made another call to the intelligence analyst over that region. Forty-five minutes later, she printed off the reports she had received and organized them into a folder. She was retrieving the final report from the printer when she saw a familiar name.
Andrea Kemper, the deceased daughter of Emmitt Kemper.
Stunned to see a connection to her previous job, she began reading. Even more shocking than seeing the woman’s name in a new context was the report that the woman’s body had never been recovered after a drowning at sea.
How was it that Emmitt had never mentioned that detail? He had talked about his daughter’s skills incessantly, her knowledge of firearms, her ability to disguise herself so she could hide in plain sight. Obviously, not having a body to bury could make it difficult to find closure and even cause someone to cling to the possibility that their loved one was still alive. His previous behavior suddenly made a little more sense.
She glanced through the analyst’s report, her sympathies and suspicions stirred. According to the woman’s file, she had served undercover in Colombia, working as a low-level employee for Morenta. Was it possible her true identity had been discovered? Had Andrea been killed by the man Paige was now researching?
Or was it conceivable that Emmitt’s daughter was still alive? Morenta was reported to be ruthless to his enemies. He not only killed anyone in his way but also went after their families. Could she have faked her own death to protect herself and her family from this drug lord? Possibilities clouded Paige’s mind.
Remembering that Vanessa had also asked about connections between Morenta and Venezuela, Paige glanced through Morenta’s known property holdings and associations. Nothing flagged for Venezuela. In fact, in the psych profile from a few years earlier, the analyst specifically mentioned his paranoia and how specific he was when traveling outside of Cali.
Paige was still browsing through the data in front of her when Vanessa came back in. “What do you have?”
“A lot of information but no ties between Morenta and Venezuela. From what I’ve read so far, I find it unlikely he would travel there.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The psych profile indicates he’s paranoid in nature. Venezuela is in a state of unrest, and security is not easy to come by. Those two situations make it highly doubtful Morenta would go there. He also appears to have a very strong network throughout Colombia and parts of Central America and Mexico. I don’t see any advantage of him trying to make ties in Venezuela.”
“What if he were trying to use the oil industry as a new source of distribution into the United States?”
“That would certainly garner a reason for him to be interested but not enough to visit the country personally. My guess is he would bribe Venezuelan officials to come to him in his villa in Colombia or have them meet him at a neutral site where he feels he could maintain control.”
Vaness
a fell silent and then held out a hand. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”
Paige handed it over to her. “Do you want me to keep digging for more information, or should I get back to work on the schedule for next week’s class?”
“Actually, I need you to set up an appointment for me. I may need to drive up to DC later today.” Vanessa handed Paige a slip of paper with a name and phone number.
Paige goggled at the information in front of her. “You want me to call the deputy director of operations?”
“That’s the number for his secretary, Maryanne. Tell her I need a meeting today, whenever Warren is available.”
“And if she asks what it’s regarding?” Paige asked. She knew CIA culture put everyone on a first-name basis, but she didn’t know what to think of the easy way the DDO’s name rolled off Vanessa’s tongue.
“Just tell her I need more information on Venezuela.”
“They said they sent over everything they have.”
“You and I both know better than that. There’s always something in the need-to-know category, something everyone isn’t privy to.”
“What if she says no?” Paige asked.
“She won’t say no.”
Vanessa was right. The secretary didn’t say no. In fact, she seemed to know exactly who Vanessa was without any kind of explanation.
“When is Vanessa available?” Maryanne asked.
“She said anytime today, but it will take her a few hours to drive to headquarters.”
The woman put her on hold for a moment, presumably to check her boss’s calendar. When she came back on, Paige was surprised again by the response. “Tell Vanessa that Warren will meet her at the training center in two hours. We’ll give you an update of when he’ll need transportation from the helicopter pad when he gets closer.”
“I’ll tell her,” Paige managed to say despite the unexpected answer. She hung up and relayed the information to Vanessa. When her boss seemed to take everything in stride, Paige wondered exactly what Vanessa’s background was within the agency to be able to reach into the upper echelons of management so easily.
Though it took a few moments for the facts to process through her mind, Paige found a new understanding of why Vanessa had been selected to teach field operatives. She wasn’t just well read in undercover tactics. She was well experienced.
Chapter 15
Vanessa stood at the edge of the helicopter pad, dread curling in her stomach. If the deputy director of operations was flying to the training center to talk to her, something must be very wrong.
She thought of Amy’s concerns and the shock of finding their husbands’ pilot had been murdered. The only real comfort she could cling to was the knowledge that the pilot had indeed made it back to the ship after dropping them off.
She had seen these men in action. So had Amy. They were not the types to be forced to do anything against their will. In fact, one of their specialties was hostage rescue.
The only conclusion for the helicopter making it back safely to the ship without them on it was that they had gotten off voluntarily. So why was Warren Harris making a special trip of nearly two hundred miles to talk to her when they had access to secure phones?
He climbed out of the helicopter, its blades ruffling his short, graying hair. If the extra few pounds around his middle were any indication, Warren’s workload still kept him chained to a desk and out of the gym more often than not.
“Warren, you didn’t have to fly down here. I would have come to you.”
“I didn’t want to wait that long.” He motioned to her car. “I assume you have somewhere secure that we can talk.”
“Yeah.” Vanessa slid behind the wheel and waited for him to take the seat beside her. They were both silent on the drive from the helicopter pad to her building, and Vanessa could feel the tension rising as they made their way to the conference room she had reserved.
Warren took the seat across from her and spared her from asking for the real reason he was here. “I have a mission for you.”
Vanessa’s jaw dropped, and it took her a moment to recover. “Warren, I just called to get the latest intel on Venezuela. I wasn’t volunteering to go back into the field. You know I don’t do that kind of work anymore.”
“You’re the only one who can do this particular job.”
“Don’t start with that kind of talk again. We both know there are plenty of good agents out there. I’ve trained a decent number of them.”
“Yes,” Warren agreed, “but you’re the only one who’s ever seen Morenta, the only one he’s ever seen.”
“So?”
“So we need someone on the inside.”
“What’s going on here? I just heard my husband was going after Morenta, and now you’re sitting here telling me you want me to do the same.” Vanessa leaned forward, her elbows resting against the table. “Was the Saint Squad unsuccessful in apprehending him?”
“We picked up some chatter. Supposedly, Morenta was tipped off that your husband and his squad were coming after him. Indications are that Morenta’s men were waiting for them, and the Saint Squad was captured.”
She swallowed hard, trying to choke down the implications of what Warren had just said. “All of them?”
“We aren’t sure. The only intel we have is an intercepted phone conversation.” Warren hesitated before adding, “We also know the pilot of the helicopter that transported them was murdered after returning to the ship.”
“I already heard about that,” Vanessa admitted. “Do you know who did it?”
“Not yet. They’re just beginning their investigation.”
“Has the navy at least tried to make contact with the Saint Squad?”
“Not yet. They don’t want to take the chance that someone made that phone call to deliberately throw us off. It’s possible Morenta’s men know the SEALs are there and are trying to intercept a communication.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“I want you ready to travel. If the Saint Squad doesn’t make the rendezvous tonight, we’ll send you in to make contact with Morenta.”
“What would my cover be? I only saw the man from a distance, and I’d honestly prefer to keep it that way.”
“We think we can get him to come to you. You’ll travel as Lina Ramir,” Warren said, referring to a previous alias she had lived under for more than a year. “Lina’s family had some dealings in Maracaibo, which is near where we think Morenta is staying. We think that as soon as he sees you’re there, he’ll make contact.”
“Why would he care about Lina? Her entire family and most of the people who worked with them are in prison.”
“Yes, but we’re going to plant the rumor that you’re starting up the family business again.”
“You want me to pose as an arms dealer?”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do.”
Vanessa contemplated his proposal. Finally, she said, “Okay, I’ll do it, but under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You give me forty-eight hours in country before you plant the rumor that I’m running guns. That will give me time to see if I can find my husband and his squad.”
“The easiest way to find your husband is to find Morenta.”
“Maybe, but I’d like the chance of finding him without throwing myself into the same trap he might be stuck in. I’m not any good to him or his friends if I’m a prisoner too.”
Warren fell silent, then said, “I’ll do what I can.”
“What do you mean you’ll do what you can? You’re in charge. It’s your decision,” Vanessa said firmly. “Make it happen.”
“You never were an easy one to give orders to, you know that?” Warren nodded his assent. “Get ready to go, and I’ll get your travel arranged. If your husband’s squad doesn’t make contact, you’ll fly out first thing in the morning.”
“There’s one more thing. I’m not waiting to fly down there until tomorrow. I’m leaving today
.”
He shook his head. “I’m not sending you into an unstable country until we have a reason.”
“I know, but I can at least be en route. Send me to Aruba or Curacao. I can insert from there,” Vanessa said. “We both know I can’t fly straight from the U.S. to Maracaibo anyway.”
“Okay, you win. I’ll take care of your travel arrangements.” He stood. “You’d better go pack.”
Vanessa stood as well. “Who’s going to be my contact point?”
“With the possibility of a leak, you’re stuck with me.”
“I’d also like to bring my assistant into the circle of confidence.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I already have her looking at reports, but I’d like to have her work at the naval base and act as our liaison,” Vanessa told him.
“I don’t know . . .”
“Warren, you know how valuable it is to have an assistant you can trust. We both know you’d be lost without Maryanne keeping your schedule organized and all of your intel where you can find it. I need what you have, and Paige is capable of giving it to me.”
“Yes, but Maryanne has been working for me for five years,” Warren countered. “Your assistant is brand-new.”
Vanessa told him what she knew would sway him. “I trust her, Warren.”
“If you feel that strongly about it, go ahead. Just make sure she understands the concept of need-to-know.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick manila envelope. “Here’s your clean cell phone and the latest phone intercepts on Morenta. If you think of anything else you need, give me a call.”
“Thanks.” Vanessa held up the envelope and started for the door.
“Hey, Vanessa?”
“Yes?”
Drop Zone Page 9
