"I don't understand," Patterson said with a small frown. "What difference does it make to Whitney which GhostWalker he gives up if he's giving one to Ekabela?"
"The Nortons are no longer expendable, especially Jack. He has children--twin boys. His brother is certain to follow his example soon. They need to train their children in survival, and Whitney is absolutely sure that they will. The Nortons are premium, elite soldiers and have proven their worth to the program over and over."
"No doubt," Patterson agreed, trying to look very sincere.
"We need a hero in the program and Dr. Whitney has selected Sam 'Knight Johnson. It's a terrible sacrifice he doesn't want to make and, of course, it deeply saddens him, but in order to keep the program moving forward, sacrifices do have to be made. Of all the GhostWalkers, Sam is the most expendable. He can't provide us with a child, and the children are more important than the soldiers."
"I still don't understand."
"Johnson is paired with a woman of no use to the program. Unless Whitney can get him back, which is highly improbable, he will not accept another mate, so he'll never produce a much-needed child." She shrugged. "In any case, it was easy to persuade Ekabela that Sam Johnson was the man who killed his brother."
Patterson stretched his legs out and took a casual look around the coffee shop. As usual, this popular cafe was packed. His hungry gaze automatically noted the women surrounding him. A harried mother who looked as if she needed a man to make her feel beautiful; a little mouse of an Asian woman who sipped tea and studiously read a book on Zen as she listened to music with an earpiece in her ear and tapped her foot to the beat; two middle-aged animated friends having fun, laughing together . . . so many types. He loved that about women--that there were so many to choose from and right here in this room there was a good cross-section. He turned his head to smile at Sheila. The conversation was going along very nicely.
Did he really care that Sam Johnson was paired with a useless woman? Not really, but what was important, of course, was the fact that the renowned infallible Dr. Whitney had made a mistake or it wouldn't have happened. And that was an important nugget of information Sheila had inadvertently given him.
"So you're saying Johnson goes on the mission and doesn't come back. The team takes out the terrorist cell and along the way, Whitney's men are in place to make certain Ekabela gets a GhostWalker to torture endlessly in return for the diamond."
"Not exactly," Sheila hedged. "Ekabela's men will be there to take the GhostWalker, but we'll have a sniper in place to kill Johnson once the diamond is in our hands and the rest of the team is out safely. He won't suffer."
Art was very skilled at portraying emotion he didn't feel. He blew out his breath, shook his head, and took another drink of coffee. "That's bullshit, Sheila, and you know it. That puts the entire team at risk. What's to say Ekabela doesn't go after more than one GhostWalker and keep the diamond anyway?"
"The money, of course. He needs the money for his war chest and he needs an ally like Whitney." She looked around, lowered her voice further, and beckoned him close. "Did you get the intel on the recent jailbreak in Lubumbashi? Nine hundred and sixty-seven prisoners escaped. It appeared that eight armed men attacked the prison guards, allowing the prisoners to flee, trying to free a militant who had been condemned to death. Unbeknownst to the minister, they had three members of Ekabela's family: another brother, a son, and a nephew. It was only a matter of time before someone gave up their true identities. Whitney arranged to help Ekabela recover them as part of the good faith deal. Ekabela needs Whitney, although his is a lost cause. He'll never find enough followers to keep those mines for long."
"He massacres entire villages and the children, forcing them to join with him or die. This man is no saint. His reputation is terrifying in that region. He's not a man Whitney wants to be in bed with."
"Of course not," Sheila soothed. "Of course Whitney doesn't want to deal with such a man, but he needs that diamond for the defense of our country, and he can't chance that the local military gets enough guts to take back those mineral-rich lands, nor can he take the chance that whoever has the mines next will do business with him. The moment the diamond is in his hands, you know that he'll destroy Ekabela. He'll move heaven and earth to make certain the man dies, and with him, all of his terrible atrocities. The price for this powerful weapon that could end wars, for the defense of everything we hold dear, is one man. One, Art. You and I both know it's a small price."
The major frowned and scratched the back of his head. "These soldiers are elite, every one of them. They've trained extensively. Even without their psychic abilities, just the training alone is worth so much to our government. Do you have any idea how many operations these men have run, just this team alone? To give one up to the enemy, that just doesn't sit right."
"Of course no one wants it that way, Art," Sheila said, leaning forward to touch his hand with her fingertips. "Dr. Whitney agonized over this decision. The mission has to take place. If we don't sacrifice a knight, then many good men will die." She took a small package from her purse and, with one finger, pushed it across the table at him. "Dr. Whitney really needs your help on this. Make certain Johnson is on that team when the orders come through."
The major loved this part. Negotiation--his forte. He frowned. Drew a hand over his face and shook his head. "Ekabela will torture that GhostWalker the way they did Jack and Ken Norton. Ken is covered in scars," Patterson said. "Sam Johnson has served this country time and time again, going above the call of duty."
Sheila withdrew another packet and placed it carefully on top of the other one.
Patterson studied her face. Should he push? Sheila bit her lip when he remained silent. Laughter bubbled up. He had her. He sank back in his chair and shook his head. "Not this time. I've read what Ekabela does to people he doesn't like. If you told him Johnson killed his brother, he'll fuck him up so bad the man will beg for death and I doubt if Ekabela will give it to him--not for a very long time."
She took out a third packet and placed it beside the other two. Her lips compressed tight. Patterson swept up the money. "You'd better have a sniper in place, Sheila," he warned, knowing full well Whitney wouldn't risk blowing the deal by killing Ekabela's prize. "I'll see what I can do, but Whitney blew it when he had me talk to the general. I don't hold a trusted position anymore. He plays his cards close to his chest. He and that aide of his go way back."
"Nevertheless, see to it that the orders change before they get to the general."
Patterson stood up, sliding the packs of money inside his coat in the pocket specially tailored for just such lucrative transactions, satisfaction welling up. He turned from the table to walk out.
Sheila hastily plugged in her earpiece. "He's on the move. Watch him closely. If anything happens to him, we're all in trouble." She had a team in place this time--Whitney's own men, his private army of GhostWalkers on his payroll, men not quite as perfect as the elite soldiers on the teams, but enhanced nonetheless. She'd noticed those men--mercenaries--rarely lasted long. The effects of the enhancements seemed to take a toll on them, making them belligerent and always ready to fight.
Several people in the cafe had gotten up to pay, cutting across Patterson's path, slowing him down. A tall, slender man in a business suit picked up his briefcase and stood, nearly running into the major. He stepped back with an apology to allow the soldier to continue his line of travel. A small Asian woman turned from the cash register with a small cough, her fist going to her mouth to politely cover the soft sound.
The major glanced back and grinned at Sheila. "See you later." He turned and faltered in his stride, both hands going to his throat. He made a sound, much like a death rattle. He staggered, and took three more steps.
The tall man passed him, heading for the counter, his bill in his hand. Two of Sheila's team paced alongside Patterson but from opposite sides of the room. The major once again turned toward Sheila. She could see his face was nearly pu
rple, his lips blue.
"Move in. Move in," she practically shouted.
Patterson went down on his knees, grabbing at the Asian woman, nearly toppling her as well. She looked frightened and backed away, toward Sheila, bumping her and bouncing off. Sheila tried to get to the major, but several customers blocked her path for a minute, rushing toward the fallen man who appeared to be choking. She was bumped and pushed in the melee, delaying her. Sheila's team reached Patterson first, surrounding him as he fell flat on his face, gasping for breath.
"Call nine-one-one," one of her men ordered her.
They rolled the major over. His eyes were wide-open, sightless, bulging. His mouth was open as well, giving her the impression of a fish gasping its last breath. He was definitely dying if he wasn't already dead. Whitney could not possibly blame her for this. She pushed her way through the small crowd to Patterson's side and knelt over him as her men worked on him. Her fingers found the inside pocket. She nearly screamed aloud. The money was gone. Gone. Right in front of her. In front of the team. It was impossible.
She took a careful look around at the crowd. She'd scoped out this very cafe numerous times and most of the onlookers were the same people who came in after work for coffee and a chat with coworkers or to relax before they went home. She recognized the little Asian girl who had been reading her book. She and the three Asian men who sat at a table chatting together, along with the tall gentlemen with the briefcase, worked at Samurai Telecommunications across the street. The two women laughing together were secretaries at the law offices of Tweed and Tweed.
She could practically name everyone in the room and where they worked. She'd done backgrounds on everyone including the workers here. What was she going to say to Whitney? Thank God she had been smart enough to place a tracking device in the third packet of money. She knew Patterson, knew his greed. He always managed to sound very concerned for the soldiers, but in the end he'd always been more concerned for his bank account. She read him like a book and she'd known exactly when his breaking point would be.
She looked down at the major. Two of the team members worked on him, trying to bring him back, but he was gone that fast. Disgusted, she stood up and dusted off her hands, walking with great dignity back to her table. The small tracker was there in her purse. She reached inside and turned it on. The green light blinked rapidly, telling her she was very, very close to the source.
Suspicious, she looked around her. Two cafe employees stood close and one of the two secretaries. An Asian man was on the other side of her. Clearly it could be on any of the four. She moved her hand slightly. The tracker went wild, glowing bright, indicating she was directly over the bug. No one was that close to her. Frowning she looked at the floor. Nothing.
Her heart jumped and then began to pound. She put her hand on the pocket of her jacket. The tracker was in her pocket. She sank into a chair, nowhere to go, terrified of what Whitney would do now that she'd failed him again.
CHAPTER 2
At long last the game was on. Azami "Thorn" Yoshiie allowed herself one small smile as she stepped out of the single-engine plane she'd piloted, landing at the tiny airport of Superior. She'd flown over the Lolo National Forest, taking her time, quartering the acreage where she knew the homes of GhostWalker Teams One and Two were located.
Jack and Ken Norton, two members of Team Two, owned twenty-four hundred acres surrounded by national forest and they had leased it to the two GhostWalker teams, forming a nearly impenetrable fortress. From the air, even the houses were nearly impossible to spot. The soldiers had taken great care to incorporate their surroundings, using mountains and trees to hide their existence from the outside world.
Her two most trusted men accompanied her, flanking either side of her, but a foot away, giving all three plenty of room to maneuver should they have need to do so. Daiki and Eiji Yoshiie were both broad-shouldered men, although Daiki stood a head taller than Eiji and a good foot taller than Thorn. Both were impressive warriors, missing little when it came to details. She needed her best for this job, men who were calm, quick-thinking on their feet, and without fear. They were walking into the lion's den and worse--sticking their heads right into its mouth. They were also her adopted brothers, and she trusted them as she did no others.
"Before we go any further," she said softly, "I need to ask one more time if you're both fully committed to this mission. This will be the most dangerous operation we've done to date. Nothing else compares with this. Every man, woman, and child in this compound is enhanced as well as psychic. We don't know what gifts they have and we'll be under constant surveillance as well as intense scrutiny."
Daiki frowned at her. "Why is there doubt in your mind, Azami?"
"You are at the most risk, Daiki, because of the role you must always play. Our company has grown far beyond what we imagined and there is more than enough money for both of you to bow out now, before it's too late. As head of the company, you're a target anyway, but when you walk into the lion's den with me, you and Eiji will have less of a chance against enhanced, experienced soldiers. You've read their files. You know what we face. These men are some of the most dangerous men on the face of the earth today. Even factions of their own government fear them. They will strike against you first, my brother."
"We vowed to help you, Azami," Eiji pointed out.
"And I released you from that vow long ago," she reminded. "I am enhanced, as they are. I have psychic gifts, as they do. This isn't the same as the other jobs we've worked on."
Daiki shrugged. "These people could be innocents and we don't want to make any mistakes. We need to know who our enemies are." He looked his sister in the eye. "We made this vow to our father, not to you. You cannot release us. You never asked this task of us."
"We do not wish to be released, Azami," Eiji added. "It is important that you know that. I am prepared to die. Death means nothing to me. If fate wishes it so, then so be it, but I will work to stop this evil. Like Daiki and our father, I saw what that man did to an innocent child."
"We are sworn to stamp out evil," Daiki continued. "Our father's legacy lives in all of us. He took us in, gave us life when we would have lived as slaves in the sex trade. He gave us his name and his heritage. He taught us the way of the samurai. We have thrived in business following his way. We cannot step off the path when it becomes dangerous. We have prepared for this day."
Thorn took a deep breath, pride for her brothers slipping into her heart. She took another deep breath, drawing in the crisp air coming off the surrounding mountains. She saw the freedom and beauty of nature and always found she felt completely free when she was away from the cities and out in the open. She'd learned calm, to be centered, to know her way and have confidence in herself, but Whitney was a personal demon she'd never been able to fully exorcise in the way that she should. Confronting his evil was necessary, but still, at night--when she was alone--the thought of him, those terrible memories of her years with him, still gave her nightmares.
"Azami?" Daiki inquired softly.
She could hear the genuine concern in his voice, and as always, when one of her brothers showed her unexpected affection, she was touched. She sent him a small, quick smile of reassurance, keeping her features serene. She could tell Eiji and Daiki were both worried about her. They'd been with her since the day they had been with their father and had seen the occupants of a rented car dump her out on the street in one of the worst parts of Kinshicho in eastern Tokyo. Whitney had disposed of her in a place known for pimps, sex trafficking, and pedophiles, just as her brothers' parents had abandoned them. She had been eight years old and her body had been covered in scars already. She'd weighed forty-seven pounds, and the signs of torture, abuse, and multiple operations were significant--signs that she had been systematically experimented on by a madman.
Mamoru Yoshiie had lifted her gently into his arms and looked into her eyes for a long time before he'd nodded, as if seeing something in her that was worth saving. No one h
ad ever made her feel as if she was worth anything until that simple nod. He had taken her home to live with him and his adopted sons. From that day, Yoshiie had raised her as if she were a beloved daughter, not a throwaway found on the dirty streets.
"It's beautiful here. I don't know why I didn't expect that." It was her way of reassuring them, pointing out the beauty of their surroundings as their father had done when her nightmares had awakened the entire household night after night. He would carry her outside where she could breathe, and sit with her, pointing out the distant mountains and the sky overhead. The boys would crowd close, touching her shoulder in that same calm reassurance.
They were walking straight into what might be the heart of an enemy camp. It wouldn't be the first time, and hopefully, it wouldn't be the last. There was little intelligence on the compound, and even sending a satellite to spy over the Lolo National Forest hadn't yielded much in the way of data. She had no idea if this particular group of GhostWalkers worked closely with Whitney or not--but his daughter and grandson were somewhere up in those mountains. Lily Whitney-Miller was married to a GhostWalker. She had worked with her father on some of the experiments. If anyone knew Whitney's location, it would be his daughter.
"These people are professionals with abilities similar to mine," she reiterated quietly. "Do not take chances. If things go bad, don't worry about me, just get out fast."
Daiki frowned at her. "You are repeating yourself, Azami," he reprimanded. "Are you certain you're ready to do this?"
"I've waited all my life for this moment. Whitney is a monster and he has to be stopped," she replied. "It is my destiny to find a way to cut him off from those he manipulates into aiding him, and then I will be able to stop him."
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