Traitor Games

by Sidney Bristol

  “Did you succeed?”

  “No.” He stopped in the alley, his world narrowing to a single, dark point. The chill in his belly spread. He could only hope it reached his heart before Irene told him his worst fear had come true. “Where’s Lily? What happened?”

  “They have her.”

  Noah’s phone slipped from his fingers. This couldn’t be happening. The stab of pain slid between his ribs in white hot agony. He’d failed her. His one job, above all others, was to keep Lillian safe. And he’d failed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Thursday. Unknown Airstrip, Berlin, Germany.

  Lillian kept her head down, arms tight to her chest, knees drawn up as far as she could get them. If she made herself seem small and insignificant, maybe they’d forget her.

  Yeah, fat chance of that happening.

  The instant the man at the warehouse pulled her mask off he’d known who she was. It’d been written on his face.

  She had no idea where they were now. Everyone that hadn’t made it out had been rounded up and transported here to what she could only assume was an airstrip based on the planes and buildings.

  “You can’t do this.” A young man with dark brown skin pitched his voice louder. “The American government can’t handcuff us and cart us off to silence us!”

  Lillian cringed and sank down farther.

  The problem was these people weren’t law enforcement. They hadn’t even pretended to have badges, except for Hector who she’d seen briefly in passing.

  “Stay calm, Lillian,” Carol whispered in her ear via the comm. “We’re tracking your signal.”

  Lillian peered into the darkness. There was no way Carol and the others could save her. SICA had brought out the big guns. She was in serious trouble.

  “Do you hear me?” the young man yelled.

  Be quiet, she wanted to tell him.

  These people weren’t following rules. They made them up as they went along. There was no safeguard against killing problematic prisoners.

  One of their captors strode down the line and stopped in front of the hacker. He said something Lillian couldn’t hear. She watched the exchange. The hacker gestured and continued his rant. The guard replied. They went back and forth until the young man leaped to his feet and grabbed for the guard. His hands were not bound like hers. The guard reached for his weapon. The other hackers yelled, some kicked out at the guard’s leg.

  “Lillian? What’s going on?” Carol asked.

  “Someone’s about to die. There’s easily two dozen hostages. A dozen guards. We’re at an airstrip. Do not attempt to rescue me,” Lillian said in a rush.

  “We’re coming for you,” Carol said.

  Two other guards rushed in, weapons drawn and batons in hand. They cracked the batons against arms, legs, anything in their way. The guard grappling with the hacker stumbled and the hacker pointed the gun at the now fallen man.

  A gun fired, but not the one in the hacker’s hands.

  “Oh God.” Lillian closed her eyes and willed herself not to hear, but she did. The clatter of the gun hitting the pavement was nothing compared to the wet crack of bone meeting ground.

  The other hackers drew back, shocked into silence.

  “Anyone else want to protest?” a man said.

  She pried one eye open.

  Hector.

  He stood out from the rest in stature and skin tone, but he hadn’t pulled the trigger. Another man in tactical gear had.

  “Protestors die. Remember that.” Hector gestured at a group of five armed men. “Search them all, then load them. Her first.”

  Load them?

  “They’re taking us somewhere,” she whispered.

  A black man approached her. The way he stared at her made her feel like she was a thing and not a person.

  Noah had said Demetrius was a large, intimidating black man.

  This guy fit the bill. Hell, he was the only black man she’d seen among their captors.

  Was he still their ally?

  He went to his knee, back to the others.

  Lillian had to take a chance.

  “Your children are safe.” She didn’t know for sure, but she had faith in Jesse and Kevin.

  The man hesitated. It was the slightest pause.

  “Demetrius?”

  He tucked his chin.

  Sort of a nod.

  She’d take that as a yes.

  “I have a comm. My ear?” She couldn’t keep it. Once they searched her they’d find it and any means of tracking her would be gone. If he had it, maybe the others would find her someday.

  Demetrius plucked the comm from her ear, but he didn’t turn it over to Hector. Instead he gestured for another person to drag her outside where a plane sat on the tarmac, nose pointed down the runway.

  …

  Friday. Safe House, Madrid, Spain.

  Irene stepped through the front door of the Madrid safe house into utter chaos. She could hear Noah’s raised voice mingled with others.

  It had been clear even without Lillian’s admission that she’d gotten close to Noah, and he to her. Irene couldn’t say if she was impressed or not that someone had tamed that man. Her training told her emotional attachments like that only caused problems. And yet, wasn’t it the hope for a life after all of this that kept her going?

  She tipped her chin up, meeting Mitch’s gaze. If things had been different and it was Mitch who they’d taken, Irene would be the one falling to pieces.

  Mitch placed his hand on the small of her back and whispered, “Come on.”

  The op wasn’t over just because they’d hit a road bump.

  She followed the sound of voices down the narrow hall. The house was another site provided by Secretary of State Grant. The narrow, long structure was in an older district with a lot of traffic, allowing them to come and go in anonymity.

  The hall let out into a large room with windows on either side. A sturdy table ran the width and squared off, one man on either side, were Noah and Brandon. Carol and Andy were off to one side. Brandon’s remaining men on the other.

  “Irene. Mitch.” Carol strode toward them. “You made it. Thank God.”

  Irene met the other woman with open arms. When they’d parted ways in Germany to travel separately they’d all been in shock. Losing Lillian was a blow to them all, not just Noah. Now, they had plans.

  “Noah is close to breaking,” Carol whispered for Irene’s ears alone.

  She nodded and let go of the other woman.

  Noah whirled toward her, arms crossed over his chest and fire burning in his eyes. He was a man in love and he’d just lost his woman. “What went wrong?”

  “Hello to you, too.” Irene set her bag down and blew out a breath.

  Brandon had the good sense to stay on the other side of the table and keep his mouth shut. Half of this was his fault.

  The best thing to do was forge ahead. If she treated this like typical operational procedure, maybe Noah would snap out of it. He was a top notch operative.

  “We don’t know how they found us in Berlin,” Irene said.

  Mitch’s hand rubbed against her back. “The sites must have all been on high alert because of us. We knew it was a risk going in and we chose to do it.”

  “But Warsaw? They knew we were coming.” Noah delivered a glare at Brandon.

  “Sit.” Irene couldn’t fight all sides.

  Noah dragged a chair out from the table and sat down. The weariness made his movements slower, almost clumsy. She wasn’t used to him being anything other than a swaggering asshole. Losing Lillian had hurt him more than she ever would have expected.

  This wasn’t good.

  Irene leaned forward. What she wouldn’t give for Lillian’s bird’s-eye view right now. But she was gone and everyone was looking at her and Mitch. Because they were the handlers. The ones who, under normal circumstances, would be in charge. “We know the hack hit them hard. The team in Hamburg confirmed this before they packed up. I thi
nk SICA is running and they’re scared. We destroyed the Hamburg location. Andy’s team eliminated the Tel Aviv site. The London office could be operational, but they’re down people and equipment.”

  “Why kidnap a room full of hackers?” Carol asked.

  “Free labor? Slaves? Leverage?” Irene shrugged.

  “What if Carol reached out to Dubster? What if we tell them what’s going on and get them on our side?” Mitch asked.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. They aren’t going to be interested in making friends right now. And if we believe Lillian, the White Rabbits are dead and the group is leaderless,” Carol said.

  “What about writing a story as Jonas? Do we know if he’s dead? We could expand on the story from the other day.” Mitch slid his phone to the center of the table. “People are asking questions. It’s all over the news.”

  “You do that, SICA will start killing everyone who knows about them.” Noah stared at Mitch with a murderous light behind his eyes. “If Lillian’s not already dead, they’ll kill her just to tie up loose ends. So what the fuck do we do?”

  “Right now we need to assess our own damage, patch ourselves up.” Irene spread her hands. She had to get through to him, beyond the emotion. “We took hits just like SICA did. We use this time to hunt down leads, figure out where Lillian is.”

  “That’s not good enough.” Noah shoved to his feet and paced the room. “We wouldn’t have gotten this far without her, and our plan is to hope a lead falls in our lap?”

  “That’s not what we’re doing.” Andy moved to stand in Noah’s way. “We have to be careful.”

  Irene groped for Mitch’s hand under the table. She hoped they could hold their team together, but she feared they’d been outplayed.

  “Andy’s right,” Carol said. “We need to circle back to the team en route from Hamburg. Once they get here and we have all the information, we can find Lillian. We know their network now. We’ll be able to find her.”

  Irene nodded.

  “Fuck this.” Noah whirled and stormed down another hall, leading deeper into the house.

  Brandon straightened, but his gaze remained on the table, as though he finally realized what he’d cost them. “Me and my guys, we’ll set up in the back room.”

  “Thanks, Brandon,” Carol said.

  Irene stroked Mitch’s fingers while the swirl of emotion drilled away at her composure. Dangerous missions meant sometimes people died. They’d been lucky until now.

  Andy and Carol came to stand at the end of the table, hands joined.

  “So,” Carol whispered. “What are we really doing?”

  Irene shook her head. “Not a damn clue.”

  Andy glanced at his wife. “Then it’s probably best if we all rest. We’ll think better once we’ve had some sleep.”

  “Let’s do it in shifts.” Mitch leaned forward. “I don’t want Noah or Brandon free to do whatever crazy thought comes to mind.”

  “Me either.” Irene grimaced. “I’ll take first watch. I can’t sleep right now.”

  “We’ll be upstairs.” Andy tugged at his wife’s hand.

  In a few moments it was just Mitch and Irene.

  He pulled at her hand until she faced him. He drew circles over both sets of knuckles, his touch gentle. When they’d begun working together, she’d thought she’d hate him. But there was something about Mitch under pressure that comforted her. Once he’d found his stride, he was an excellent partner. She’d just been too blind to see that their partnership wasn’t just work. It was everything.

  “It could have been you today if we’d made a different decision,” Mitch whispered.

  “It wasn’t.” Irene turned her hands over and squeezed his palms.

  “It could have been.” He stared into her eyes. “I love you, Irene. That might not be what you want to hear, but—fuck it. I care about you.”

  She’d known that was coming, because she’d begun feeling it herself. When it came to the emotional stuff, Mitch was always a hundred yards ahead of her. Which was why she knew this was right. Amidst the craziest period of her life, they’d found each other.

  Irene slid from her chair onto his lap and let him cradle her close.

  “I love you, too, Mitch,” she whispered back.

  She’d resisted, she’d denied and she’d tried to sabotage what they had, but it was too good and too right. She was done fighting.

  …

  Friday. Washington, D.C.

  Dave pasted on a pleasant smile for the sake of his assistant.

  “Sir? Your two o’clock—”

  “Cancel it.” He waved his hand at the woman.

  “But…”

  “I said cancel it.”

  Dave strode out of the office.

  He’d always kept a decent amount of work on his plate doing both his jobs that he never lacked for something to do. Since his meeting with President Fowler, everything was going to shit. People wanted to talk to him. There were meetings. And soon there’d be security reviews.

  There wasn’t a good reason for Dave to refuse the position, except that a shift would disrupt his secondary life.

  President Fowler wasn’t giving him long to think it over. He’d already assumed Dave’s willingness and was pushing the appointment through. The move would trap Dave in a high visibility position. But it would also give him control and access that was unparalleled. There wouldn’t be anything that happened in any region of the globe he did not know about.

  That was a lot of power to just turn his back on.

  This wasn’t optimal timing for SICA. Their systems were down due to the hack. They’d lost three of their support sites. He had no idea how many people they’d lost, or the ones that would abandon them after this. The cherry on top of this disaster was that the children were gone.

  Demetrius hadn’t worked out as well as Dave had hoped. Perhaps it was time to cut his losses.

  Dave pushed through the glass doors and stepped outside, breathing deep.

  He had decisions to make.

  SICA needed an organizational plan. The hits on their locations last night were…costly. The manpower. The resources. Their network was in shambles. He didn’t want to take on being the director, but the truth was they were back to relying on piggybacking off the CIA. Which made this move even more appealing. He would rebuild the way he wanted to instead of ruling by committee as he had in the old days when SICA was guided by the four who’d started it. Dave had since quietly eliminated his co-leaders until it was just him. As it should have been.

  But what was Dave going to do about the president’s appointment?

  For all its perks, the appointment still had considerable problems. The evaluation process alone posed a threat. If the right person with the right skills started digging, they’d uncover SICA. It wasn’t a small organization anymore. They had people, bank accounts, resources, property. But they were still dependent on CIA support.

  It was a catch-22 with no good way out.

  …

  Saturday. Unknown.

  Lillian lay sprawled on the concrete floor, staring up at the wooden beams of her prison. The sound of waves hitting the shore helped drown out everything else.

  She’d never been to a tropical island.

  It was on her bucket list.

  Scratching that off wasn’t going to be fun.

  The hackers had stopped speaking to her. They knew she was different. Important. And they were probably right to blame her for their imprisonment. If it wasn’t for her plan to go to Berlin, this might have never happened.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in time with the waves.

  Given the number of close calls she and Noah had evaded, it was a matter of time until one of them was caught. This time her number was up. Was there a chance of escape? Demetrius was out there somewhere and they might be on the same side, or he might turn on her.

  Calm evaded Lillian. The nagging fear that the end was near ate away at her. The plaster and ba
rs of the structure were old, much older than the concrete floor or the wooden roof. Was this some sort of colonial prison? Repurposed for criminals of opportunity? How far had they flown? Where were Noah and the others?

  Was Noah even still alive?

  The door to the prison building creaked open.

  Several people got to their feet and spat curses.

  Lillian turned her head and began to count to sixty. Fast. Her fear didn’t get a lot of time.

  Demetrius stared at her through the neighboring cell.

  She shivered, fisted her hands and kept counting.

  After this, she couldn’t be frightened.

  Sixty…

  A Matthews only got one minute to freak out or be scared. After that, they had to pull it together and push through. Whatever they had planned, whatever purpose she served here, it was happening now.

  She grasped the bars and hauled herself to her feet.

  Demetrius walked the line of cells. The keys dangling from his fingers jangled with each step.

  There was no benefit in fighting back yet. She was weaker, ignorant of where they were, and unable to call for help. The best thing for her to do at the moment was cooperate and hope for the best. For now.

  Demetrius crooked his finger at her. “Come here.”

  She took a step closer to the bars.

  “Arms.” He held out one of those zip tie–like shackles.

  She put her arms through the bars and he secured them around her wrists.

  That done, he unlocked her cell and grabbed a handful of her shirt, yanking her forward. He guided her out while all of the other prisoners stared at her. She kept her eyes on the ground, the guilt eating at her with each and every step.

  This was her call. She’d made the plan and people had died.

  Demetrius led her out of the prison house. A stone walkway littered with sand stretched away from them.

  “What’s happening?” she asked, unable to keep her questions to herself.

  “Hector wants to question you.”

  “Shit.” She didn’t like the sound of that. “What about the others? Have you heard from them?”

  “No. You aren’t the only one they’re watching.” Demetrius swung his head to the right. A group of armed men watched them.

  As Lillian and Demetrius passed beyond the prison building, other structures came into view.