Saving Agent Tanner (Covert Justice Book 2)

by Mary Alford

  “Her? She’s not going anywhere. You and your men keep guard on her. I will need to talk to him in person. We cannot risk someone intercepting the call. Her people are everywhere. Lucky for us, they will not look here. Still, it’s too much of a risk.”

  “Do you want me to keep trying to break her?” Hussein asked.

  Anwar hesitated for a moment, considering my torture as if making a business decision. “No. If you were going to break her, that beating would have done it. We’ll have to try something different. There’s the child. That’s something to consider, but first I must talk to him.”

  Hussein seemed disappointed. “All right, but if her people come here, we will have no choice but to kill her.”

  Anwar opened the door, letting in blinding sunlight before he turned around to face Hussein. “You will do as you are told and nothing more. If you cannot follow commands, I will have to find someone else to replace you. Zyad Ali-Arawar will not be pleased. And if Zyad isn’t happy, heads are going to roll.”

  If Zyad isn’t happy. Anwar was working for al-Qaeda second in command. How had the seemingly innocent Anwar come to report to one of the top ten terrorists in the world?

  Then another realization hit. Did this have something to do with the upcoming Israeli-Palestine talks involving the Secretary of State? Was Zyad planning an attack when many of the key Middle East leaders were in one place along with U.S. Diplomats? Was that the plan all along? Had Booth discovered Zyad’s scheme and had it cost him his life as Anwar had suggested? I hoped not.

  Hussein ordered one of the two men with him to get me up. The man, the one who’d given me water, jerked me into a sitting position. My back hit the wall hard and I cried out. The pain was excruciating.

  “Give her something to drink. I have to go out for a while. If he calls, tell him I stepped out for a smoke, understood?” Hussein eyed the man menacingly for a second longer, then left.

  It took all my willpower to shove my wounded body away from the wall an inch. I glanced at the two men guarding me, but they seemed disinterested. In spite of the fact that any little movement brought my injured back closer to the wall, I had to try to free myself from the ropes. I managed to position the screw right to work it back and forth against the rope while keeping a close eye on the men. In this light, they appeared little more than boys. New recruits in the war of terror still raging in spite of the U.S’s efforts otherwise.

  Outside, a Jeep fired to life, its tired old engine growing fainter in the distance. One of the two, the same young man who brought me water, came and inspected my wounds.

  The expression on his face said enough to confirm what I suspected. It was bad. He tried to ease the tattered pieces of my shirt back into place.

  The other young man dug out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to his friend. They stepped outside, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  I leaned my head against my knees and continued to work on the rope.

  None of what I’d learned made any sense. I tried to replay the facts, as I knew them in my head. I had to believe this whole thing had been set into motion because Booth had unwillingly uncovered something big. Had he tried to get word to me before his death and somehow entrusted Rahab, his operative, with the truth? After Booth disappeared, Rahab kept trying to warn me of something.

  If that were true, then I was back to square one. And this thing had nothing to do with Booth or me. We were victims by association.

  This was bigger than the two of us. And as old as the battle that raged between Arab and Jew.

  * * * *

  “There’s evidence someone has been here recently.” One of the agents stationed in Kandahar knelt and examined the floor at a certain spot. Though it was barely midday, the underground bunker was pitch dark inside. Someone connected a flood light that filled the twenty by twenty space with light.

  Agent Sheridan studied something on the dirt floor.

  Michael knelt next to him. Half a dozen dark blotches the size of pennies covered the floor. “Is that?”

  “Blood,” Agent Sheridan confirmed. His gaze went to the ceiling and Michael’s followed. “Someone was tied here. See the rub marks left from the rope?”

  Michael did. “How long ago? Is there any way of telling?”

  Khalid knelt next to them and dabbed his finger onto one of the dark dots. He rubbed it between his thumb and finger. “I’d say the blood is only a few days old.”

  “Do you think she’s still alive?” Michael directed the question to the one person he sort of trusted.

  Khalid’s gaze fell on him. “Maybe when she left here. There’s not all that much blood. Not enough to be the result of a fatal injury.”

  Michael got to his feet. “Do you still believe they would take her to Ulziheir?”

  “If they are al-Qaeda, then yes. It makes the most sense. They’d be safest there,” Khalid told him.

  Michael tried to think. What would Booth do in this situation? The answer came to him as clear as if Booth had spoken it. Go after her. Bring her back if possible. No matter if it cost him his life.

  “Can you get me in there?”

  Khalid’s stony expression gave nothing away. “Do you have any idea what you are asking? The danger?”

  “I’m not asking you to come with me. I need to find a way in. Tell me where you think they’d hold her. That’s all I’m asking.”

  After a moment, Khalid agreed. “I’ll help you only if I can come along. In good conscience, I cannot send you out there alone. You would not survive.”

  “Thank you, but this is no longer your problem. I’ll bring Sam and the two agents with me.”

  Michael moved to pass him, but Khalid blocked him with his body. “Let me ask you this, do you trust them?”

  Trust. The only person he trusted beyond himself and Booth was Sam. Slowly, he shook his head. “Not entirely. I don’t know the two men with us. Sam, I’d trust with my life.”

  “Then he is the only one we will take. And if you want to bring her back alive, you will not let the other two know where we are going.”

  * * * *

  “Have you found anything?” Director Hughes’ stress level continued to grow with Agent Michael Bernard’s silence.

  He’d told Bernard he had twenty-four hours to bring her in. That was two days ago. While he knew Booth and Bernard were close, it wouldn’t be the first time a friend had betrayed another friend. When it came to money and the threat of losing your life, stronger friendships than theirs had failed.

  When his calls to Bernard continued to go unanswered, he turned to another source.

  “No, sir. Nothing yet. We know he arrived in Kabul. He met with the two agents we assigned to him. Sheridan and Jones, I trust implicitly. But something’s definitely going on there. I can’t reach Sheridan or Jones on their secure lines and Sam’s radio is silent.”

  Hughes swallowed back his misgivings and let loose a string of four letter words. He should have listened to his wife and retired two years ago, after the first heart attack. If he got through this thing without going to prison, he could almost guarantee a second attack.

  He took a deep breath, rubbing a sweaty hand over his disappearing hairline. “Any word on Booth or the woman?”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  “What about him? Does he suspect anything?”

  “Not yet. Not as far as I can tell. I think he’s getting nervous, though. Which means the situation has become grave.”

  And it kept getting better and better. Hughes propelled his girth from the leather chair and walked over to the office window that reflected back the lateness of the day.

  The sun had set on D.C. hours earlier. “I need you on the ground. How soon can you get there?”

  “I’m on my way now.”

  “Will he suspect?”

  “He’s distracted. There’s a lot going on right now. I can make it happen. I’ll fake an illness.”

  “Good. Get there. Get her out of there--if she’s still
alive. What about the others?”

  “I have someone watching them.”

  One ray of light on this otherwise dark day in the trenches. “Good. Good. I’m counting on you. Do what you have to do, but get her out of there.”

  * * * *

  “We are set, then?” Khalid glanced from Michael to Sam, who had lost their Western clothing and were now dressed in traditional Arab attire. He waited until both men were astride their horses. They looked out of place there as well.

  Khalid kicked the mount into motion, tossing them a final word of warning over his shoulder. “From here on out you will do as I say.”

  His nephew would travel with them. He trusted Alain with his life. He hated that he was putting the young man’s life in jeopardy, but he could not--would not--let the woman die in such a manner. He’d believed her. Her only purpose here was to find the man who was her child’s father and bring him home if at all possible. He admired such loyalty. The others were there for political gain, money, or worse. Some false sense of patriotism.

  Khalid glanced over his shoulder at the two men awkwardly reining their mounts. He didn’t know what to make of them yet. His gut told him they wanted to bring the woman home and the agent if possible, but he still didn’t know where their loyalties lay.

  “Do you think they have Laura’s best interest at heart?” Alain whispered once they were a good way ahead, reading his thoughts.

  “I don’t know. Something more is going on here than what we are being told. Are you ready to deal with it if this thing blows up in our faces?”

  “Of course. Whatever you need me to do. You know that.”

  “Yes, you are always trustworthy, Alain. My sister would be proud.”

  Alain was pleased by his compliment. He’d idolized his uncle since he was a young boy. “Do you think we’ll find Laura alive?”

  “If we don’t find her soon, she won’t be. I can only imagine the things she’s had to endure. If she is alive, she won’t be the same when she comes out of it.”

  “And this Agent Booth?”

  “I think we will find him dead. It’s been too long. Too much time has passed. You know al-Qaeda’s tactics. They have no mercy and they don’t believe in leaving witnesses behind.”

  * * * *

  Was it my imagination or did the knot loosen a bit? I tugged at my wrists. There was definitely more play between them. I glanced up at my two captors. They’d been busy playing cards for a while now. Hussein hadn’t returned.

  But I didn’t trust him not to go against Anwar’s command and take matters into his own hands. I started working the knot with more vengeance than ever. The two men appeared armed only with knives. If I could get my hands free, I might be able to lure one of them over and overpower him, get the knife from him before his partner could come to his aid.

  I was willing to bet the two would have some form of transportation. I worked the screw deeper into the knot. I’d been at it for hours. Once, the young man who’d given me water tried to put something on my wounds. I’d refused, pretending to be in pain. I was afraid he’d seen the ropes loosened if I allowed him to get close. Not that it took a whole lot of effort to fake the pain. The slightest movement of working the screw was nearly unbearable.

  It took less than half an hour more for the knot to loosen enough for me to slip my left hand out. I worked the rope free of my right hand and wiggled my fingers. They were stiff from the work effort.

  I knew my time was quickly running out. I needed to act now before Hussein returned.

  I shifted into a better position that would allow me to spring to my feet quickly. Then, I moaned. The two men glanced at me then at each other. One grabbed a bottle of water close by and came over to where I sat.

  He held the water to my lips. The knife was inches from me. His partner had taken the opportunity to look at his cards. I took another sip of water before lunging for the knife. I was on my feet before he knew what I was doing. I slit his throat in a single fluid motion. He fell away from me, dead. The second man jumped to his feet and snatched his knife from the table.

  He charged toward me. I dodged his attempts easily enough then plunged the knife deep into his back. He careened forward, landing on top of his partner. I knelt next to them and felt for a pulse. I knew they were dead. I needed assurances. My first instinct was to rush outside to freedom. I forced myself to take a moment to listen. I heard nothing but the unnerving silence of the desert. I took the knife from the last man I’d killed then searched both of their pockets. They were carrying cell phones and a little money. The first man I’d killed had a gun.

  I took it along with both phones and the money. Slowly, I advanced to the door and opened it a crack, listening for any out of place sound. I’d lost all track of time. It was dark outside. The night sky was filled with thousands of stars.

  To the back of the bunker was a beat up Jeep. The keys were in the ignition. It took several cranks for the worn out engine to turn over. I put the vehicle in gear and headed away from the bunker without turning on any lights. When I was a safe distance away, I parked the Jeep and tried to find a map to tell me where I was. The Jeep appeared to be full of fuel. The few meager possessions I’d brought with me had been tossed into the back floorboard. The prepaid phone was missing. The cell phone I used back home was there. I dug it out, then reconsidered using it. I might be leading whoever was responsible for my capture beyond Anwar and Hussein straight to me if they were monitoring the phone.

  Inside the glove box, I found something resembling energy bars, which I tossed on the seat next to me, and a folded, well-worn map. Without knowing where I was at this point, I had no idea how to figure out where I was going on the map, which meant I’d have to rely on gut instinct.

  I guessed my captors would have taken me into enemy territory. Which meant to get to safer ground, I’d need to head south.

  I put the Jeep in gear again, still traveling without lights and headed due south.

  After I’d driven a good click without seeing anything but open desert, I wondered what lay out there in the dark beyond the occasional animal scurrying to safety.

  I hadn’t eaten in days. The lack of food left me weak and struggling to stay focused. The energy bars weren’t exactly appealing, but I wasn’t in a position to be picky.

  I ate the bar with relish and reached for another when one of the men’s cell phones rang. I wasn’t sure why I’d taken their phones except that in the off chance I escaped, something on them might hold a lead to Booth. I was beginning to wonder the wisdom of my actions when a few minutes later, the second cell phone rang.

  How long would it be before Hussein and Anwar came after me? Not long, especially when the two men didn’t answer their phones.

  The desert was filled with miles and miles of darkness, which left plenty of time for my thoughts to wander. It didn’t take long before Ava’s face appeared before me. What would she be thinking right now? Did she miss me? Was she worried? The thought of her made me want to reach out to her. Hear her voice. I didn’t dare risk making that call. Not yet. But, the idea of her worrying made my heart sick. I couldn’t think about what she’d go through if I didn’t return and not go crazy. The image of my precious daughter standing over my grave infuriated me and gave me the incentive to survive this thing for her.

  I continued to make my way south until daybreak. I hadn’t come across another human being in hours, no nomads, no makeshift villages. Not another human life.

  Nothing but desert. That in itself was enough to prick my cop’s intuition.

  If I kept on this course, would I travel straight into enemy territory? I needed help. I didn’t know whom to believe and I wasn’t convinced that Michael hadn’t set me up. There was only one person I knew I could trust. David. I needed to warn him about Anwar. I prayed that by reaching out to him I wouldn’t be leading the trouble following me straight to his door.

  Out of sheer desperation, I grabbed my phone. The familiar sound of his f
atherly voice was such a relief that I started to cry. “David, it’s me.”

  “Oh, Rachel. Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick about you. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  I bit back a shaky sob. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry. David, I don’t know how secure this phone is. Anwar isn’t your friend. I was kidnapped by him.”

  “Kidnapped.” The fear in his tone was easy to read.

  “It’s okay. I’m fine, I managed to escape.”

  “My goodness, Rachel. I can’t believe it. But why? Did he hurt you?”

  “No, I’m okay. And I’m not sure what’s going on. None of this makes any sense. I thought when Booth went missing, he was the key. Now, I’m not sure. Maybe they were after me all along. Maybe that’s why Anwar got close to you. To bring about this opportunity. He kept asking me what I knew about the weapons.”

  “Weapons? What weapons could he be talking about? Do you think this has anything to do with the peace talks?”

  “I have no idea, but the timing is a pretty huge coincidence, don’t you think?” I took a deep breath and told him everything. “David, I had to kill two people. I’m in the middle of the desert and I don’t know where I am. I need your help. I know it’s asking a lot and you wanted to keep the embassy out of this, but I need your help.”

  “Of course, Rachel, whatever you need. Rest assured, I’m going to move heaven and earth to get you out of there. Tell me everything you know. Let’s retrace your steps. Maybe we can figure it out from there.”

  For the first time since I’d awakened to the reality of being kidnapped, I allowed myself this small glimmer of hope. Thank You, God.

  “We need to keep this brief. There’s not much time.” I quickly told him the details of my terrifying capture and the sickening feeling of having taken two lives that had plummeted me back into the world I’d thought I’d left behind for good.

  “I went out into the desert near Bel-Ahzar to meet someone who told me she had news about Booth, but when I got there, she’d been murdered. Someone ambushed me from behind and knocked me out.”

  “What happened after that?”