Freedom Code

by Elaine Levine

  Freedom Code

  Sleeper SEALs, Book 11

  Elaine Levine

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Other Sleeper SEALs Books

  Other Books by Elaine Levine

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Other Sleeper SEALs Books

  Other Books by Elaine Levine

  About the Author

  Freedom Code Blurb

  Sleeper SEALs #11

  The Sleeper SEALs are former U.S. Navy SEALs recruited by a new counter-terror division to handle solo dark ops missions to combat terrorism on U.S. soil.

  When CIA Special Agent Mike Folsom is found beheaded in a Boulder, Colorado, alley hours after speaking to an informant about a potential terrorist cell being formed in the local Muslim community, retired Navy SEAL Levi Jones is activated to find his killer. The informant herself is a suspected co-conspirator, but she's the only one who can bring him inside the close-knit community.

  Zaida Hassan knows her parents are disappointed with her—and not because she writes sexy contemporary romances. No, they're upset with her for something much more salacious—she's failed to settle down in a marriage and provide them with grandchildren. Zaida's grateful her parents don't know the worst of her secrets. But Jamal Abd al-Mukhtar does, and he's leveraging that knowledge against her. He's the reason she sought out Agent Mike Folsom, a friend from way back.

  The help Mike sends her is a man straight from the pages of her stories, with eyes like a blue mountain lake and a heart of obsidian.

  When she learns Mike has been murdered, she knows Levi Jones has come not to save her but to destroy her.

  Each book in this multi-author branded series is a stand-alone novel, and the series does not have to be read in order.

  Dedication

  Between researching payload capacities for small drones, components of claymore bombs, Tahrir al-Sham cells, floor plans of some public buildings, and a huge variety of guns and ammo, my Google search history looks like something from one of my terrorist characters.

  I swear my sweet husband must sneak up to my office each night after I’m asleep and erase my web history, since the big black SUVs haven’t shown up yet…

  Acknowledgments

  Almost a year ago, my friend Becky McGraw invited me to join a group of amazing authors writing a military romance series with the edgy and super fun premise of former U.S. Navy SEALs called up for dark ops missions against terrorists in the U.S.

  How could I pass up the opportunity to work with some of the best authors currently writing in my sub-genres of military and romantic suspense—including Susan Stoker, Lori Ryan, Dale Mayer, Geri Foster, J.M. Madden, Donna Michaels, Sharon Hamilton, Maryann Jordan, Becca Jameson, Elle James, and Becky McGraw?

  It’s been a thrilling ride, ladies! Love you all and thank you for including me!

  Other Sleeper SEALs Books

  All books in the Sleeper SEALs series are stand-alones and can be read in any order:

  1) Protecting Dakota by Susan Stoker

  2) Slow Ride by Becky McGraw

  3) Michael’s Mercy by Dale Mayer

  4) Saving Zola by Becca Jameson

  5) Bachelor SEAL by Sharon Hamilton

  6) Montana Rescue by Elle James

  7) Thin Ice by Maryann Jordan

  8) Grinch Reaper by Donna Michaels

  9) All In by Lori Ryan

  10) Broken SEAL by Geri Foster

  11) Freedom Code by Elaine Levine

  12) Flat Line by J.M. Madden

  Other Books by Elaine Levine

  Red Team Series

  (This series must be read in order)

  1 The Edge of Courage

  2 Shattered Valor

  3 Honor Unraveled

  3.5 Kit & Ivy: A Red Team Wedding Novella

  4 Twisted Mercy

  4.5 Ty & Eden: A Red Team Wedding Novella

  5 Assassin’s Promise

  6 War Bringer

  6.5 Rocco & Mandy: A Red Team Wedding Novella

  7 Razed Glory

  8 Deadly Creed

  9 Forsaken Duty

  Sleeper SEALs

  11 Freedom Code

  Men of Defiance Series

  (This series may be read in any order)

  1 Rachel and the Hired Gun

  2 Audrey and the Maverick

  3 Leah and the Bounty Hunter

  4 Logan’s Outlaw

  5 Agnes and the Renegade

  1

  Zaida checked the clock. Again. Fifteen minutes after the hour…and still the room was empty. Where was everyone? Had this week’s group meeting been canceled? If so, no one had notified her. A young woman in a pink headscarf and a long, flowered dress stepped inside Zaida’s office. Hidaya Baqri. Zaida smiled at her, but the greeting wasn’t returned.

  The tension on Hidaya’s face worried Zaida. She stood and asked, “What is it?”

  Hidaya sent a look around the room, then closed the office door before approaching her. Zaida instantly knew none of the other women would be coming that day for their weekly book discussion. Zaida took Hidaya’s hand and had her sit next to her, frowning at her friend’s pallor. “Are you unwell?” she asked.

  “We have a problem,” Hidaya said. She reached into her purse and withdrew a folded paper. She handed it over, then clutched her hands in her lap while Zaida read it.

  The paper had a picture of a computer screen with a huge, red block of text that read:

  YOUR COMPUTER IS LOCKED!

  All of your files have been encrypted and

  moved to a hidden partition.

  This is happening because you show

  all the hallmarks of a

  MUSLIM TERRORIST.

  There’s nothing you need to do…

  except turn yourself in

  (and you thought no one was watching).

  All pertinent info used to make this assessment will be sent to the government

  unless you pay a ransom of $500 at this >>LINK<<.

  You’ll have control of your laptop one week after this notice first arrived, but if you want your computer back before the big, black SUVs arrive,

  click >> HERE << to pay the ransom.

  Counter: 157:45:36:24

  Zaida read it twice. Her palms were sweating. “What is this, Hidaya?”

  Her friend shook her head. “It showed up on some of our computers. If we don’t comply, then some information—we don’t know what—will be sent to the government. They might even plant information on our computers.” She gave Zaida a pained look. “Whoever did this…maybe they already know everything about us. We will be exposed as apostates in our communities.”

  “Of course, you can’t comply, but not for any of those reasons,” Zaida said. “You can’t give money to terrorists.”

  Hidaya’s shoulders slumped. “Some did try to buy their way out of the ransomware, but the links don’t work.” She tapped the paper. “They’re calling us the terrorists. They’re going to report us. It takes nothing, absolutely nothing, to be deported. There is no due process. Any suspicion at all is enough to end our lives.”

  “No. This is ridiculous. It’s an illegal search and seizure—if the governme
nt is in any way involved,” Zaida said, hoping her friend understood the dangerous path she was walking.

  “We sometimes talk about forbidden topics in our group.” Hidaya’s voice was quiet and tortured.

  “We talk about topics that interest us,” Zaida countered. “Harmless things like recipes and family life…”

  “And our sex lives. And stories with sex. Freedoms for women that fly in the face of Islamic Law.”

  “There’s nothing illegal about what we do. We aren’t plotting murders or planning sedition. We’ve done nothing wrong in our jobs or in our group. Here in the States, we’re allowed to meet and talk. About anything. We’re allowed to write and read fiction, even sexy fiction. We’re allowed to contribute articles to a knowledge base of what we’ve experienced in our lives.” She paused, studying Hidaya. “We are not allowed to fund terrorist groups.”

  “Some in our communities would consider our open discussion about intimate things immoral. Some consider it pornography and call it Haram.”

  “But you’re safe here to talk about anything, especially intimate things. If women don’t understand about how sex affects their lives and relationships, how can they learn they have free will? We’ve talked about this. It is our freedom code.”

  Hidaya pointed at the paper. “Someone knows what we talk about. They’re using it against us. My brother and the others’ husbands will lose their jobs. They won’t be able to feed their children. We will be ostracized in our communities and at the university. And when they find out the types of women I meet with, it will be even worse.”

  “Types of women?” Zaida raised her brows. “You mean our friends, Hidaya? We started as a simple readers group, but we’ve become so much more. We share our frustrations and dreams. We share tips about child rearing and dealing with husbands and boyfriends and parents. We talk about our health. We’ve become a support group. We’ve become friends.”

  Hidaya’s face went blank. She stood and straightened her skirt. “You don’t believe me. It is already happening.” She handed Zaida her phone. The screen was open to Hidaya’s brother Abdul’s Facebook profile, which was now full of horrible posts, including a jihadist manifesto calling for all Muslims in America to rise up and destroy the Zionist enemy.

  Zaida was shocked. “This isn’t like your brother. Abdul is the kindest, sweetest guy. Just like you.”

  “It isn’t him. They hacked his profile. It’s all over his accounts—Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and all the others.”

  “Who hacked him?”

  “We don’t know. He can’t even access his accounts to take the messages down. I don’t know what to do, Zaida. I only know that we can’t come here. Not for our group meetings. Not for our work. At least for a while, but maybe forever.” She walked toward the door.

  “Wait. Hidaya, wait. What if I have someone look into this? I have a friend who might be able to help us. Would that be all right?” Zaida asked.

  “You cannot go to the police. They will shoot Abdul and then ask questions.”

  “No, they won’t. They have no cause to do that.”

  “We are Muslim. It is cause enough.”

  “My friend isn’t with the police. He would help us without making things worse.”

  Hidaya nodded. “We only have days before whoever this is will carry out his threats and expose us.”

  “I understand. I’ll text you after I talk with him.” Zaida held up the paper. “I’m keeping this.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t do anything until then. Please.”

  “Let me know, Zaida. We are very afraid.”

  “Just stay at home. Keep your heads down, you and Abdul. We’ll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, have your brother work on getting his accounts back.”

  They hugged, then Hidaya left. Zaida emptied out the coffee pot she’d brewed for the group meeting, dumped out the hot tea water, and packed up the cookies she’d brought. No one else was coming tonight.

  She locked the office suite behind her, then went down the old brick building’s three flights of stairs and out to the street. The late July evening was warm, with just a slight breeze. It was dark enough that the streetlights were coming on.

  Zaida’s office was only a couple of blocks from her apartment. It was a really convenient location. She’d lived at her current place for a few years now. She knew all the shops and many of the shopkeepers along the Old Town strip between her office and apartment. Some people she passed were familiar as well. Fort Collins, Colorado, was home to Colorado State University, whose students walked and rode their bikes everywhere; Old Town was one of their favorite haunts.

  It was a beautiful place to live, and yet after Hidaya’s visit, it took on a sinister pall.

  Zaida looked around, feeling watched, trying to see if someone was following her, observing her. She quickened her pace. Though the area was well lit and heavily populated, she suddenly couldn’t wait to get home and lock the doors.

  Her apartment was on the second floor of an upscale development that took up a whole city block. The first floor housed an atrium-like space with plentiful greenery in the center and a big steel and glass skylight. The outer circle of the atrium had an eclectic mix of shops and restaurants frequented by those who lived and worked in the legal district at the north end of town.

  Her parents had insisted she take the apartment they’d selected for her when she graduated from CSU seven years earlier. It was monitored 24/7 and had the highest level of security of any apartment building in the area. Zaida liked it because of all of its amenities. There was a private parking garage for residents and visitors. A full gym. And all the restaurants that she could need. It even had a fabulous coffee shop.

  She swiped her access card at the elevator, then took the short ride up to the second floor. Turning the corner to her apartment, she came to a full stop. Her front door was open, just a crack. A chill slipped down her spine. She froze, trying to decide whether she should enter her apartment alone or if she should call the police.

  She pulled out her phone and keyed in 911 but didn’t hit the send button. Proceeding cautiously, she inched closer to her apartment to peek inside. There was nowhere to take cover in the hallway. If a burglar saw her, she wouldn’t be able to get away before they could get to her. But she couldn’t very well involve a neighbor—especially if there was a criminal in there.

  She crept forward until she was standing next to her front door. Her thumb hovered over the send button on her phone as she quietly pushed her door all the way open.

  She couldn’t see anyone inside, but she could hear someone in her kitchen…someone who was humming a tune that was all too familiar to her.

  “Mother?” she called out.

  “Hello, dear. I’m in the kitchen,” Rayna Hussan called out. Pans clanked.

  Zaida sighed. She shut the front door but didn’t yet clear her phone screen. She set her purse down on a side table in her foyer. “Are you alone?”

  Rayna frowned over at her. “Your father had some work to do at the university. School will be in session before you know it. I thought I’d pop by and make a late dinner while we wait for him.” She gave Zaida a dark look. “I am allowed to visit my daughter, aren’t I?”

  Zaida relaxed and erased the emergency number on her screen, then went to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Of course you are, but I’ve already eaten.”

  “Your father hasn’t. He’ll be here any minute. You can sit with us.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I thought your group meeting would have run longer.”

  Tension shot through Zaida; she knew exactly how her mother would react when she asked for Mike Folsom’s number. Their lifelong friend was a CIA agent. At least, that had been the running joke all the years she was growing up. He never fessed up to it, though. He had that edge in his eyes, a persistent situational awareness that wasn’t a normal civilian behavior.

  “I forgot that everyone in my grou
p was on vacation. My book has eaten my brain.”

  Her mother sent her a curious glance. “How is your story coming?”

  An idea hit Zaida on the fly, and she went with it. “Pretty well. You know, I’m writing something different from my usual.” She took a seat on one of the stools at her kitchen counter, feeling a little guilty for the lie. “It’s a romantic suspense spy novel. Do you think Mike would be open to talking to me? I have some general questions.”

  “As it turns out, he’s in town. In Boulder, anyway. Why don’t you see if you can meet up for coffee? I’d go with you, but my schedule’s booked getting ready for our vacation next week.”

  “What’s his number? I’ll call him now.” Her mom called off the digits. Zaida dialed, but there was no answer. She left a message asking if they could meet. She desperately hoped Mike could make time for her. If not, she’d have to go to the police.

  “Mom, you left my door open. I’d rather you didn’t do that.”

  “And why not? Who’s going to come down this end of the hall but you?”

  “You never know. It’s just not a safe practice. Fort Collins is getting very big. All sorts of people come here now. It scared me seeing it open.”

  Her mom looked worried. “Why would it scare you? I always leave it open when I’m here. I have to alert you before you barge in with a boy.”