Here it was.
The documents on file were for what was technically a shipping company with an address registered to the building where the stolen gun shipment had been whisked away to last night after business hours.
Lillian copied all of the data into a shared file the other techs were working on. Together their combined efforts had yielded everything from rental records to fast food deliveries and even a list of license plates parked in the lot.
It was a wealth of information that told them nothing without the proper context.
The only thing Lillian could see in the data so far was that they could establish SICA as maintaining assets outside the CIA’s control as far back as four years. It would take longer to identify threads between agencies and what kind of work happened inside the building.
They didn’t have that long.
The passenger side door at the front of the van opened and Brandon climbed in, hauling a container of coffee with him.
“How long are you leaving him with your mom?” He had the phone pressed to his ear.
Lillian ducked her head and tried to not listen.
She couldn’t begin to fathom how difficult it must be to run a company whose bread and butter was danger, manage a relationship with Mol, and now raise a child on top of everything else. It made the everyday turmoil of Lillian’s adolescent life simple by comparison. She’d never had to worry about either of her parents getting shot, blown up, or killed as a regular part of their work.
“All right. If you need anything send the boys out for it. Take it easy for a few days. We’re going to be a bit tied up.” Brandon hunched over and murmured more words before ending the call and aiming his focus on the rest of them. “What do we know?”
Lillian felt eyes on her. She glanced up to find Brandon looking at her for answers.
“We’ve compiled a lot of data, but we’re still just guessing at what they’re doing. We need more information.”
Brandon set the coffee container on the driver’s seat and began pouring cups. “Give me your best guess.”
“We know SICA has been around for a while. This could be some sort of hub or headquarters for their operation outside the States.” Even as she said it she didn’t think that answer was accurate.
“What’s that look for?” Brandon handed out the last cup of coffee.
“There’s not enough security or activity for this to be a major hub.” She feared that if they were going to learn anything, they would have to go inside.
“Has my tracker moved?” He directed that question to the other side of the van.
“No, sir,” one of the robotic techs answered.
“Then I guess it’s time to plan a visit,” Brandon said.
Lillian knew it was the next logical step after a wait-and-see approach. In a high stakes case with a ticking clock, she’d have made the same call with work. The only difference now was that it was Noah’s life she was risking. If they made the wrong decision he could be the one to pay the price.
…
Noah frowned at the brick facade of the warehouse he’d been watching for hours.
The location was good, in a central part of the city, but out of the way. There was easy access to roads, the airport wasn’t far, and smaller water vessels could be loaded and unloaded a short distance away.
What bothered him was how few people they’d seen coming and going. If the location was worth having, it should be protected. So either there was a force of people inside they hadn’t yet seen, or those people were somewhere else.
Doing what?
Noah wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but he was going to find out.
“Sound off,” Brandon said through the headset.
“Ace Team ready,” Noah replied.
The other teams called in the affirmative. With this many hours invested in surveillance, they were all chomping at the bit to do something.
“Ace, on your mark,” Brandon said when they were done.
“Copy that.” Noah studied his five-man, plain-clothes team.
The men nodded.
It’d been a long time since he worked with a unit like this. It wasn’t his favorite. People depending on him meant he had to rely on them. That was a recipe for someone fucking up and Noah getting shot in the back. He couldn’t do this gig alone without risking Lillian, and right now they had to hit SICA hard or they’d keep coming.
“Ace is on the move,” Noah said.
He and his group crossed away from the loading bay of an adjacent building and strolled down the sidewalk.
At this late hour, there shouldn’t be as many people inside the building. A few cars had left the premises, and that was it.
Noah kept his head down and his eyes on the steel doors ahead of them.
Still no movement.
“We are entering now,” Noah said.
“All other teams, go,” Brandon barked.
Noah placed a magnetic disc on the door where the fastening mechanism and keypad were connected. He jabbed the button on top and took a step back. Three loud beeps later the locks disengaged, overridden by the device.
“We’re in,” Noah said.
He jerked the door open and drew his Glock. His team proceeded into an open office area, except he doubted anyone truly worked here. The space was too well staged for a warehouse. A real place of work would never be this clean.
Two sets of doors led in different directions.
Three guys split off to follow the door at the back of the offices while Noah and the other two proceeded through the other exit into a long hall.
He cocked his head and listened.
Muted footsteps, heavy breathing.
“Someone’s here,” he said.
“We’ve found the crates and what looks to be a ready area,” Brandon said.
Noah broke into a jog down the hall.
If someone in the building were of the fighting kind, they’d have gotten off shots by now. Which meant whoever it was knew enough that they didn’t want to fight. And in this game, knowledge was power.
Noah sucked in a breath and caught the smell of smoke.
“I smell fire.” He bolted forward and down a hall.
Through an open door he saw a slim man standing behind a computer tower.
Noah lifted his gun, aimed, and fired.
The cloud of smoke grew thicker, burning his eyes.
He rushed into the room. Flames rose from two towers. Their data was gone, useless, but the others around the room could be saved. Noah shoved one then the other off the desk and onto the ground.
“Shots fired! Shots fired!” someone else reported through the comms.
Noah went to the door and put his back against the wall, staring down the hall.
The hair on the back of his neck rose.
His eyes stung from the acrid smoke hanging in the air. He sucked down a breath and shook his head.
The hall was clear. Noah headed back to the terminals. This had to be some kind of command room.
“Threat neutralized,” Brandon said over the comms.
“I’ve got computers still hooked into a network.” Noah bent over one of the desks. The more they knew, the safer he could make Lillian.
“Coming to your location,” Brandon said.
A few moments later the mercenary was there, flanked by two of his men.
“Fucking hell…” He gaped at the terminals. “This is a gold mine. Get the team in here. Let’s load all this up.”
“Make sure your people check for safety measures.” Noah peered at the partially melted towers he’d knocked onto the floor.
“We’ve done this a few times, thanks.”
Noah crossed to where Brandon stood and stared at the other man.
“This was too easy,” Noah whispered.
“Maybe we just got lucky?” Brandon pulled out his phone. “I’ll tell Mol to get the shed ready.”
“We need to load up and get out of here.” Noah couldn’t shake t
he feeling that something was very wrong. Nothing could go this well.
His phone buzzed with a text from Lillian.
Don’t say anything. The security at the house has gone dark.
Noah’s gut clenched and time seemed to slow. A million thoughts buzzed through his mind all at once.
This had been too easy, because SICA’s people were already dispatched somewhere else.
Brandon’s safe house.
That’s where Noah would hit. If that were the case, Mol and everyone at the house with her were dead. It was only a matter of time until that same force came down on them.
Lillian was outside, sitting in a van. It was too much exposure.
“Why the hell isn’t anyone picking up?” Brandon stepped out of the way as a four-man team with carts entered.
Noah reached out and snatched Brandon’s phone from his hand.
“What the—?” He glared at Noah.
“Listen to me, we have to get everything we can carry out of here. Now.” Whatever was happening at the house, they couldn’t stop it, but they could make sure these people paid for what they were doing.
“You don’t get to call the fucking shots.” Brandon jabbed his finger at Noah.
The phone rang.
Brandon snatched it from Noah’s grasp.
“Fucking finally.” Brandon tapped the screen.
Noah didn’t want to see whatever was about to happen. He’d been doing this job for too long for the pieces to not fit. He watched the others, yanking cords and loading equipment.
“Hurry it up,” Noah demanded of the men.
He strode to the door.
“What?” Brandon’s voice hit that note. The one where the person inside shattered, their heart and soul fracturing into a million little pieces. Loss did irreparable things to people.
Noah had to get things under control before Brandon’s grief-stricken mind started turning out ideas, like revenge.
Chapter Fifteen
Hector strolled into the house. He was rather impressed they hadn’t blown a wall out. They might actually get a moment to pick through the remains of what was going on here, unlike the other day. Of course, maximum casualty had been their goal. This was simply plugging another hole.
Chunks of plaster were missing from the walls. No doubt from either the initial flash bang grenade or the gunfire.
He was glad repairs weren’t his problem.
Demetrius stepped out through a set of double doors. Hector forced himself to remain rooted to the spot.
“What?” He stared at the blood splatter on the man’s skin.
“They fried the laptops.” Demetrius jerked his head into the next room.
“Fuck,” Hector muttered.
He followed Demetrius into the dining room. Another tech was poking through the melted remains of a laptop. Hector grimaced at the still smoking mess.
They’d moved almost as soon as they’d gathered the intel on the location, but they were still a step behind their prey.
“How many were here?” he asked.
“Five men, one woman,” Demetrius answered.
“All deceased?”
“The men shot first. The woman was an accidental casualty.” Demetrius nodded through a wall.
“Do we know who any of them are yet?” Hector directed that question to the man who’d followed him into the room.
“None of them are the targets, if that’s what you’re asking,” Demetrius responded.
“Well, damn.” Hector sighed.
When they’d landed on the break about the mercenary, Hector had thought they possibly had a solid lead on the targets. He’d known tracking Noah would be a bitch, but he’d hoped for more progress. The longer they went without finding either Noah or Lillian the worse this looked for him.
Besides, he wasn’t all that certain their leash on Demetrius was snug. Every now and then Hector caught the man staring at him. Demetrius was a killer, plain and simple. Hector had no doubt about how long he’d live if the man slipped his leash. One fuck-up and Demetrius would kill them all.
The rest of the team were already going over the house, bagging what they thought was important, photographing the bodies. They’d burn the place before they left, which meant they needed to have it all documented.
Either Hector had to find something soon, or he needed to head back to the States. He didn’t know how most of the SICA agents managed to balance their jobs, but this wasn’t working for him. People had already begun to ask questions, wonder where he was. He was fairly certain SICA wouldn’t cover for him. They’d hang his ass out to dry before they lifted a finger to help him. But he’d known the score when he signed up. At least they were honest about it all.
If he didn’t hit on a lead soon, he was going back to D.C. and damn what anyone else said about it. Hector was willing to do his part, but he couldn’t put everything else at risk. Those who’d brought him on certainly hadn’t.
Hector’s phone rang. He pulled it out and frowned at the number.
What the hell?
“What?” Hector pressed the phone to his ear.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” a breathless man said.
“Who is this?”
“Five men just broke into the warehouse.”
Noise in the background drowned out the speaker.
“What men? Who are they?” Hector gestured at the door.
If someone was after the warehouse, they were in trouble. He’d taken both of the London units with him, which meant their European intel hub was running a skeleton crew.
A gun went off and his question remained unanswered.
Hector ended the call and pried the back off his phone, pulling out the SIM card and battery.
“One team stays here, the other’s going back to the warehouse. Demetrius, you’re with me.”
Hector wasn’t used to sweating this much. If they lost the hub on his watch, nothing would bring him back from this.
…
Sunday. SICA Intel Hub, London, UK.
Demetrius pulled his hoodie up over his head. This time of night, everything was dark. The shadows on shadows obscured any number of evening activities.
They rolled up on the warehouse site without even trying for a stealthy approach.
The front door swung open, the hinges busted.
Hector spat curses and orders interchangeably.
“Half of you go around the back. The other half through the front,” he said.
Demetrius kept his head down. With any luck, he’d slip out with the others and explore what had been left behind. He needed to find his own lead on the targets, and he couldn’t do that if he was attached at the hip to anyone else.
The van came to a stop and the two positioned at the rear of the vehicle pushed the doors open.
“Demetrius, stay here,” Hector said.
The others exited the vehicle and split into two groups. Despite their plain-clothes appearance, it was obvious they were hired guns by the way they moved. The average person wouldn’t pick up on it, but he did and so would anyone watching for them.
Demetrius faced Hector, loath to say anything he didn’t have to.
“Have a look around. Whatever you find, keep it between us, understood?” Hector’s gaze bored into his skull.
“Sure thing, boss,” Demetrius replied.
He slid out of the van and closed the doors. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one feeling the heat.
Demetrius circled the building. The broken front door was too conspicuous. If there was anything left to find, it wouldn’t be there.
He cut through the courtyard that doubled as an employee parking area and delivery space. It was mostly empty for now, which wasn’t surprising. He entered the building by way of a small door that had also been taken offline and its hinges destroyed.
Demetrius stood in the dark and drew his weapon. He didn’t want to fire, but he’d protect himself first if it came to that.
Sounds of
people moving drifted down the concrete and brick halls.
He tilted his head and listened for what didn’t want to be heard.
For all he knew, they were hours too late. But in case they weren’t, Demetrius wanted to meet these people. Killing them would only put the nails in his coffin, and he had too much to lose.
Whispers drifted toward him. Feet scuffed on concrete.
He wasn’t alone.
Demetrius took the hall to the right.
There were six entrances to the building. If the security was offline, Hector’s team couldn’t cover them all. Demetrius needed to find these people. The longer it took to get out of this job the greater the chance that he and his babies would end up dead. That was how the world worked.
His eyes adjusted to the near pitch darkness of the rooms. Some light filtered in through the dirty windows near the top of the wall, but not a lot.
“Get those. Now,” someone whispered ahead of him.
These people were on his level. If he were in their shoes, he’d shoot first. He wouldn’t wait.
Demetrius dug in his pocket and pulled out the recorder he’d lifted to listen to the tapes.
He reached the opposite wall and pressed his back to the bricks, listening to the hushed voices. They knew they were running out of time. They’d be gone in an instant.
Demetrius pressed play on the tape and turned the volume all the way up.
“God, it’s so early,” a woman said.
“I know. Come on,” a man replied.
The recording sounded far louder in the dead silence with all that brick and concrete to reverberate off.
Demetrius pulled the door open a bit more.
“Who’s there?” a man who sounded an awful lot like the man on the recording asked.
“I want to make a deal.” Demetrius hung his gun off a finger and thrust his arm into the hall, holding his breath.
“Go. Go now,” the man said to someone who wasn’t Demetrius. “Stop the recording. Come out here.”
Demetrius held both hands up and stepped into a long hall.
A set of double doors were open, the moonlight casting a square of light. The other man stood back, in the deeper shadows. It was his pale hair and skin that gave him away, not that it mattered. He had two guns in hand trained on Demetrius.
Traitor Games Page 20
