Counter-Strike (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Novel Book 2)

by JT Sawyer

  Crenna walked back from the window and sat down in his swivel chair. He rested his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers. “This needs to be handled quietly,” he said. “And I mean not a whisper in the wind about this. You need to have a degree of separation from whatever unfolds.”

  Crenna let out a muffled sigh as he sat on the edge of the desk. “Gather up your usual team and head over to Europe tonight. I’ve tracked her to Austria. Await further orders on her exact location.”

  ***

  A few minutes after Von left, Crenna received a video summons from the deputy director in Langley, Virginia. He sat back in his chair, taking a moment to dab the sweat from his forehead and straighten his tie. Then he initiated the secure link and waited for Natalie Quint to appear. Quint had been his superior for the past four years and he resented every meeting with her. Fucking minority hire to fill what should’ve been a man’s position—a man like me who’s shoveled shit on four continents during the past thirty years.

  He eked out a pleasant expression as the granite-faced Quint came online. “Deputy Director, how may I be of service today?”

  “I just came from a briefing with a few of my advisors about a high-value target being flagged by our facial recognition software. Apparently the individual was spotted in Europe.”

  Europe? Shit, they’ve pinpointed Yin too? His fingers clutched a pen, nearly snapping it in half. “I’m not sure how this involves my resources in Malaysia, Deputy Director.”

  “The agent was one of yours—you’re listed as the primary case officer on this one from the time the asset was recruited until the time he disappeared on assignment.”

  Crenna’s eyes narrowed and his heart felt like it was going to punch through his ribs. “He? Who is this we’re talking about?” He was relieved that there had been no mention of Jessica Yin but now concerned about the mystery of who Quint was speaking about.

  Quint tapped a button on her laptop, removing her face from the screen and replacing it with the black-and-white profile of a thirty-something agent listed as Kyle Redstrom. Crenna gasped, covering his mouth and pretending he had coughed, then he leaned forward, nearly pressing his face into the monitor to study the image. Fuck me—he can’t be alive, not after what he went through in that prison. It can’t be him. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Yin and Redstrom both appear in one day. They have to be in league. If either of them reveals my involvement in the cover-up, I’m finished. Crenna felt bile pushing up through his esophagus and gripped the armrests on his chair. The image was replaced by Quint’s face.

  “Redstrom was listed as one of your best field agents. It was thought he had defected over to the Chinese, although it was never proven, but then that’s what you wrote in the report so you know all that.”

  Crenna realized his eyes were darting around his office and he quickly gathered his thoughts, refocusing on the laptop screen. He felt like the room temperature had spiked thirty degrees. “That’s right. He made off with some classified documents on bioweapons research, though my investigative team at the time never turned anything up on him. I thought he went dark or was dead.”

  “You need to locate him and bring him in. He’ll trust you.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make him priority number one.”

  When the meeting ended, he closed his laptop and slumped back in his chair, his shoulders feeling like there was a giant hand crushing him from above. He rolled up his sleeves and tried to choke down a breath. “Redstrom, alive,” he muttered, attempting to convince himself of what he’d heard and feeling the threads of his world starting to unravel.

  Chapter 5

  Mitch drove his rented motorcycle through the bustling streets of Tel Aviv en route to Dev’s family house, on the upper east side. Normally, he used the extensive railway system to get around the city or relied on the occasional ride from his friends at work. With ten days until his next mantracking course, he’d decided to see the countryside and snatch Dev away from work as often as possible. At the bequest of Dev’s mother, Eva, he had been invited to their house for dinner and to share in stories about his old mentor, Anatoly, whose presence was still strongly felt. Mitch had been to the house briefly on one other occasion after his arrival. This time his visit would be more than social as he needed her help in tracking down some of the mystery surrounding the disappearance of an old friend. Heavy lines of tension hung over his face and he worried about what Bob Schueller might have inadvertently stumbled into with his line of work, if that’s what his disappearance was all about.

  Mitch sped past a row of restaurants and street vendors, many of which were sidewalk sushi shops. Tel Aviv held the third highest concentration of sushi shops in the world which was another thing Mitch loved about the city. The fine food, the vigilant warrior mindset of the culture, and the fact that there was an intriguing raven-haired woman in the midst of it all made him forget about his old life in Arizona. Now if he could just get Dev to unwind a bit this whole venture abroad might actually work out. It seemed like her phone never stopped ringing and there was always some fire to put out at work. With Anatoly’s death, his organization had suffered financially and the morale amongst staff had plummeted. Several key senior members had resigned at the thought of the young Devorah Leitner taking over the reins and some longstanding international corporations had pulled up funding once reshuffling of Gideon’s infrastructure began. Mitch was understanding of Dev’s predicament and was willing to be patient until things settled down. At least that’s what he told himself in the beginning.

  Now, with some time off, he relished the thought of spending a few days with her. After the ordeal they had been through in Arizona earlier in the fall, he had felt a bond that he’d never known with a woman before. He was willing to go the distance but didn’t know how things were going to pan out with his contracting position with the Israeli military and with Dev’s insane work hours. If nothing else, he’d finish out his two-month contract with the military and head back to Arizona just in time for the cattle round-up at his friend’s ranch.

  Thirty minutes later, he maneuvered through several neighborhoods with eclectic architecture and up a winding road that led to the Leitner household. The small two-story home was framed by cedar trees which accentuated the faded white walls of the old structure. He removed his helmet and slipped it onto the leather seat then removed a carefully wrapped bouquet of flowers from a rear compartment. Walking up the inclined driveway past a manicured row of elderberry bushes, he could hear Eva and Dev in a heated discussion in the kitchen at the rear.

  “What a surprise—Dev’s discussing work,” he mumbled as he strode up, clearing his throat as he approached the back door to announce his arrival.

  Eva flung the dish towel in her hand down on the counter and replaced her stolid expression with a warm smile. “Ah, my dear Mitch. Please come in,” she said, holding open the screen door and then greeting him with a hug. “You are always so punctual.” She looked with delight at the flowers and then pulled them close to her nose, inhaling the fragrance. “And what a sweet boy.” She looked back at Dev who was busy stirring sauce in a stovetop pan. “He’s something, isn’t he?” She winked at her daughter while Mitch walked into the kitchen. Dev glanced at Mitch’s face, which he tried to drain of tension by emitting a smile.

  Eva was the boisterous one in the family who made up for her daughter’s introverted nature. She could hold a one-sided conversation the entire evening if allowed to and Mitch often wondered how Dev was related to such a chatty creature. Still, her effervescent personality was infectious and she always made him feel at ease.

  “What, no flowers for me?” said Dev, who looked up from her culinary duties.

  Mitch smirked. “Actually, I brought a new folding knife I just got and thought you might find the sight of that more exciting.”

  “Now that’s more like it—though you can bring me flowers sometime too.”

  “You know my daughter well,” chimed in
Eva, who was setting plates on the round oaken table.

  He suspected Eva was probably already planning out wedding invitations for the two of them. She had secretly confided in him one night at dinner, while Dev was in the kitchen, that her daughter was clearly excited to have Mitch in Israel. He saw it too in Dev’s eyes on rare occasions when her work commitments melted away.

  Dev tilted her head and gave a smug grin. “So, you’re not going to storm off from this meal too and hide in the hills like you did the last time we met, are you?”

  “Ah, yeah, sorry about that. Just a little occupational mishap I probably should’ve informed you about. Honestly, I didn’t think my students would rush me during dinner in a crowded street.”

  “Uh-huh, sure you didn’t. I think you saw the price of our meal and made your getaway.”

  “Ouch. I can be cheap but not when it comes to dining with a lady.”

  Once the meal was ready, everyone moved into the dining room. The plum-orange sun was hanging on the cusp of the city skyline in the distance, its rays piercing the bay windows on either side of the oak table. The braised lamb and garden-fresh asparagus along with the side dish of pine nuts were eagerly consumed in between small talk about Mitch’s mantracking work and Eva’s discussion of visits with her extended family around Israel.

  After dinner, Dev and Mitch retreated to the front patio, enjoying some baklava and coffee which Mitch was certain had a hint of rum in it despite the older woman’s wistful denial. Eva insisted on staying in the kitchen to clean up, though she poked her head in often enough to make Mitch wonder just how much dish-washing she was doing.

  When he’d finished his last forkful of the sticky treat, Mitch looked over at Dev, whose ebony hair was haloed by the setting sun. He found his words stuck in his mouth as he spoke, trying to take in her lovely features but feeling apprehensive instead.

  “Look, I know you are probably swamped with a thousand work issues right now but I could use your help with something—with tracking a person down.”

  “I thought that was your specialty,” she said, nodding towards his boots.

  “Not on this one. I’m without the resources I had when I worked with the FBI so any assistance would be appreciated. I’d be willing to hire Gideon even, if that helps, though I might have to take out a loan.”

  “Who’s the subject?”

  “Robert Schueller. Bob was a friend of mine from when I was in the army. He was a professor of physiology at the army’s cold-weather testing lab in Natick, Maine. When I was stationed there, he was doing research on survival under extreme conditions and needed test subjects. My Special Forces team was selected to undergo the study. Bob and I shared a common interest in survival—me with what happens in the wilds when a person is reduced to having only their bare hands and Bob with the physiological side of how the human machine endures environmental stressors. We kinda fed off each other’s enthusiasm and became fast friends. He and his family welcomed me in as one of their own. He’s been working as a professor in microbiology at Cornell University for many years since leaving the military but his wife confided in me that he still has some dealings with the DOD on occasion, though that’s about all she knew.”

  “Have you spoken with him lately?”

  “The last time I saw him was four months ago at his daughter’s wedding in Boston.”

  “So was he abducted or did he voluntarily drop off the radar—mistress for instance, or another family somewhere. I have to ask, Mitch. In my business such things happen all the time.”

  “Not Bob—his only mistress is his work.” Mitch balled his fist and swallowed hard. “Margo, his wife—I just spoke with her a few hours ago. She said he was last seen disembarking a plane at Heathrow Airport. She’s gone through the police already but all they said is he was seen leaving with a young woman once he got off the plane.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “They think this is the same woman who hacked up a police officer in the parking garage.”

  Dev rested her hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Mitch. I could tell there was something wrong when you arrived.”

  Mitch just nodded his chin, containing the fury and anguish that was brewing inside him.

  “Research—what was Schueller involved with?” said Dev.

  “Last I recall from his geek-speak over a beer was that he was studying the effects of neurotoxins on the body. He did his graduate work in viral pathogens in the nineties. DOD took an interest in all such research after the ricin terrorist attacks in Japan, employing guys like Bob to provide data on other potential threats. I don’t know much beyond that. He’s ventured into microbiology in recent years which is what he’s been researching at Cornell.”

  “So, your government must be spearheading a search effort if one of their own went missing under mysterious circumstances.”

  “You’d think. I imagine some wheels must be turning but who knows to what extent. You know that if things get messy for an agency, deniability of your assets rises to the forefront. Plus, I don’t even know if this is connected with his research or if he was just kidnapped to extort money from his family, though that seems unlikely given no contact has been made with his wife.” Mitch leaned forward in his chair, interlacing his fingers. “The thing is, Margo said he was heading to London to present his research on biopathology at a closed-door government think-tank, so I’m guessing there has to be a connection.”

  “Was anything of his stolen?”

  “Officially, no, but who the hell knows for sure. That’s why I can use some help on this if it’s not going to be putting you in over your head with everything else you’ve got going on.”

  Dev put her jade-green coffee cup on the glass table between them. “I’ll get my people right on it—I’ll tell the board, if they ask at all, that I’ve taken on a promising new client.” She reached over and brushed her fingers over the top of his weathered hand. Dev looked up at him and he could see the warmth in her eyes as the noise from the city below disappeared.

  He folded his arms over his chest, his shirt sleeve sliding up slightly to reveal an old, jagged scar on his left forearm. He noticed Dev staring at and shook his arm to lower the sleeve.

  “That’s one you haven’t told me about,” Dev said with her eyebrows raised.

  “Some things aren’t worth talking about.” His face tightened at his words. “Will you call me when you have something—anything on Bob or this mystery woman?”

  Dev could tell by the crooked shape of the scar that it wasn’t caused by a knife or shrapnel from an explosion but was most likely from a bullet round that grazed his skin. She’d seen the type before and knew that such wounds went beyond the flesh. She nodded in response to his query then raised her empty mug, changing the subject.

  “We can stay here and try to imbibe more of my mother’s water-drowned coffee or head downtown for drinks, if you’d like.” She nudged his shoulder. “I’ll even buy the first round, cowboy.”

  He grinned slightly. “That’s mighty fine of you, miss, but that’d just be plain wrong to let a lady get drunk on her own tab.”

  “Who said anything about getting hammered? Besides, I can probably outdrink you.”

  “Really—you think so? Then this game is on.”

  Chapter 6

  Gideon Consulting was a three-story building nestled near the center of Tel Aviv, its glass-lined exterior blending in with the rest of the corporate facilities lining the bustling downtown region. The business nameplate on the exterior lobby doors only indicated GC in gold letters above the address and revealed nothing about its role as a premier kidnapping and ransom company that had its hand in global operations. The entrance was key-coded and a plain-clothes guard stood inside to the right, greeting staff as they entered for the day shift. The burly man’s shoulder-holstered Glocks went unnoticed by visitors and their discreetness belied the fact that all of Gideon’s staff were armed. Even the secretary behind the stainless-steel desk near the elevators had an MP-5
mounted under the frame.

  Gideon was the creation of Anatoly Leitner, Dev’s father, and a large photograph of his image was mounted on the wall opposite the lobby doors. Since his untimely death in the U.S. three months earlier, Dev had struggled to hold onto the reins of his business. The pressures of managing a large company of over one hundred and twenty staff comprised largely of alpha-male warriors while coping with her own grief made for a rocky start.

  Under Dev’s direction, the company was starting to explore work in Latin America and expanding their operations in Eastern Europe. She had worked enough in Africa to know just how volatile and deadly that region was and she wanted to avoid any further assignments there if possible. Working in Somalia and Sudan had gotten her too jaded to military dictatorships, armed bandits, and the frequent sight of decaying bodies in the alleys and she had vowed to pull Gideon’s involvement out of those perilous third-world countries despite the protests of senior Gideon advisors who reminded her of the lucrative nature of those contracts. Most of her father’s former clients were corporations who signed on with Gideon as a sort of pre-emptive kidnapping insurance policy. Many were multi-national oil firms that employed workers in politically charged climates and needed assurance that their staff could be rescued without months of red tape and negative attention from the press.

  Dev had just finished her morning briefing with her board of directors when she returned to her office, where Mitch was waiting.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” he said, standing up from the leather seat beside her desk.

  “You’re the only thing good about it so far.” She tossed a thick stack of manila folders on the desk then ran her fingers through her thick hair, letting out an exhale. “We’ve just lost another stakeholder, this time a company in the U.S. who said they no longer require our services if we won’t cover Africa. That’s the second corporation in six weeks.”