Freedom's Promise: Task Force 125 (3 page)

"She took one of the kings upstairs.  I'll just nap down here if you want the other king bed and then Brian and Chris can have the twins."

Will smiled and slapped Jason on the shoulder.  "You saved the day with Sarah and now you're taking one for the team by sleeping on a plush sofa overlooking the
Arabian Gulf
.  You're a noble man."

"Yeah, it's all good.  Too much luxury makes me nervous.  Sleeping on one of those ultra pillow-top beds might just throw me into convulsions."

Will chuckled and shook his head.  "You'd still be more comfortable in a foxhole or a bird's nest, wouldn't you?"

Jason stretched out on the sofa and laced his fingers together behind his neck.  "
You've got that right."

Chapter Five

"Lucy, I'm home!"

Sarah had never been so happy to hear Brian's voice.  She scrambled out of her room and to the top of the golden staircase to see Brian Allen and Chris Wilson, looking fresh as daisies in designer suits, standing in the elegant marble entryway.  She leaned on the railing and smiled down at them.

Brian and Chris standing side by side covered just about every woman’s fantasy. 

Brian stood well over six feet, had a well-muscled physique and not one ounce of body fat.  His dark brown hair and eyes and tanned, chiseled features made him look about as exotic as you can get for a guy who grew up in
Texas
.  After fifteen years as a Navy SEAL, Brian had been recruited to the C.I.A.’s Special Activities Division for his combat experience and knowledge of all things explosive.  Brian’s special gift was being able to pick up the hottest woman in any room, love her, leave her, and still remain friends. 

Sarah responded in kind.  “That’s good ‘cuz someone’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

Chris grinned up at her.  He stood just short of six feet and, on casual days, looked the part of a surfer.  Dressed in Armani, he was a blond-haired, blue-eyed hunk of hotness.  He could sweet talk a woman in seven languages
other than English while he did a background check so comprehensive he’d know how many times a day her bowels moved. 

Whenever Sarah went undercover, Chris’ was the voice in her miniscule earpiece, keeping in constant contact with her, twenty-four seven.  Consequently, he also knew the details of her sex life and bowels, something that took Sarah a little getting used to, but Chris, the team’s communications expert, was nothing if not discreet. 

Brian looked up at Sarah.  "Well, hey, darlin'."  His face dropped.  "You look like shit."

She let the comment roll off her back.  If Brian said it, it was probably true.  He never minced words.  "I thought you guys would never get here."  Sarah walked down the stairs and greeted them both with hugs.

Chris held her at arm’s length and looked her over.  "How are you doing?  How's the shoulder?  Still much pain?"

"I'm okay.”  She demonstrated by rolling her shoulder with only a hint of pain.  “I’m glad to be out of the sling. 
Accessorizing an outfit while wearing a sling is like putting paint on shit.
  It still looks like shit.”  She turned to Brian.  “I'm ready to kick somebody’s ass though."

Brian wrapped his arm around Sarah’s waist and they walked into the sitting room.  "Well, now you know how we feel when we're waiting to pull you out of an operation.  I don't know what you're getting so riled up about.  This ain't nothin' but another mission, darlin'."

Chris nodded in agreement as he scanned the area for electronic listening devices.  The Burj al Arab was well known for its discretion and having bugs in the suites would be a disaster for business.  But Chris was the best at what he did and nobody on the team questioned his desire to ensure operational security. 

Sarah stopped, looked at Brian, and suddenly saw things from their point of view.  "How do you do it?"

Brian wrinkled his brow.  "Do what?"

"Act like it's no big thing and stay so cool."

"Well, first of all, we’re all very cool to begin with.”  He nodded a hello to Will who strolled into the room with his signature smile and sparkling blue eyes.  “We've all had years of operational experience so, no matter what happens, we've probably seen worse.  Each of us has a different way of keeping a cap on the stress.  I lift a few more weights, Will cooks a lot and writes lists,” Will rolled his eyes as he looked down at the legal pad in his hand, “Jason smokes like a chimney and cleans his guns, Vince plans the attack and several hundred contingency plans, and Chris reads thrillers and hacks into satellites."

Chris shrugged.  “In all fairness, Sarah doesn’t spend all her time talking when she’s undercover.  I can’t just listen to dead air all the time.”

Brian stood a good eight inches over Sarah and looked down at her.  "Let me guess, you've been having some trouble with the waiting?"

Sarah frowned, disappointed in her inability to just roll with the situation like the rest of them seemed to do. 
"Yeah, a little."

"All right.”
  Brian smiled at her with a combination of pity and simple indulgence.  He held her hands firmly so she couldn’t continue fidgeting.  “How ‘bout you fix us some drinks while we clean up and then we'll talk about this?  We can't have our best girl gettin' all nervous on us, can we?"

Sarah walked into the main salon while Brian and Chris climbed the stairs to the bedrooms.  She caught a glimpse of herself in one of the gold framed mirrors and realized Brian hadn't been kidding.  She ran her fingers through her hair and tried to look a little less frazzled.  She poured two glasses of Scotch for Brian and Chris and paced the floor in front of the massive, wall-sized window overlooking the
Arabian Gulf
.

Chris strolled into the room and gave Sarah a hug.  "No offense, doll, but you've looked better.  I know you've been through a lot but remember your cover.  You're a real estate investor.  You're loaded and the real estate market here has gone bust.  You're about to purchase crown jewels at bargain-basement prices.  This is a shopper’s dream.  You should look a little more, uh, happy."

Sarah’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment.  She took a step back and blinked hard as she considered Chris’ words.  "You're right.  I need to bring my A-game and I'm looking C-minus at best."

Chris shrugged.  "I didn't say that, but now that you mention it, a C-minus is generous."

Brian's voice boomed as he skipped down the stairs two at a time.  "You got that right, darlin!"  He held his arms out.  "What's next?  You gonna come crawlin down here in sweats and eating pints of ice cream?"

Sarah winced at the thought.

Brian wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek.  "Where's that drink you promised me?"

Sarah handed them their Scotch as Jason strolled into the room and pointed to the amber liquid.  “Can I have one of those?" 

Sarah nodded, happy to have something to do, even if it was tending bar.  “Just remember to tip your waitress.”

Brian greeted Jason with their usual half hug. 
"Great timing, man.
  We're just about to have a chat with Sarah about how the other half, meaning us, lives."

Jason rubbed the back of his muscled neck with his free hand.  "Good.”  He took the crystal glass Sarah offered.  “I tried to explain that earlier but she was a little jetlagged.  I don't think she absorbed it all."

Brian lounged in one of the overstuffed chairs and casually crossed his left ankle over his right knee.  He took a sip and savored it, closing his eyes and pausing for a moment before swallowing.  "Mm...
good
stuff.  God forbid you should get top shelf liquor on a commercial flight nowadays.  Private jets have ruined me for all other means of travel." 

In the interest of speed and anonymity, Chris and Brian had booked commercial flights instead of the usual private jet provided by the C.I.A.  Sarah chided herself for fretting about how long they took to arrive when she considered that they had been flying coach or stuck in airports for the past twenty-four hours.

Brian turned his brown eyes to Sarah.  He looked kindly on her as he spoke.  "Okay, you haven't worked this end of a deal before so it's only natural for you to feel a little out of your element.  You're usually sunning on a yacht or at a mansion somewhere while we do all the waiting, sweating and background work."

Sarah knew he was right and couldn’t argue.  She gave a weak smile in acknowledgement as Brian continued.

"Working this side of an operation requires patience.  There's a lot you can learn on this end, but you need to stay on your toes and out of your insecurities so you can observe everything we do with a clear head.  We need you working with us here.  If you're tense and stressed, you won't be any good to us and you'll just slow us down.  If that's the case, we might as well send you back now.  You don't want to put us in that position, do you?"

Hard words but the professional in her knew he was right.

Chapter Six

Vince opened his eyes and blinked several times.

What the hell are they using to knock me out? 

The room was pitch black, cool, and dry.  No sounds from the outside.  He sat up.  There was a cot under him. 

No mattress, no blanket.  Thanks for nothing.
 

He ran his hand over the hair that had grown out on his usually shaved head.  "I've got to stop waking up hung over in strange places."  The sound of
his own
voice was something of a comfort in captivity.

He reached out to feel around him. 

Concrete floor.
 
Concrete wall.

He stood and reached toward the ceiling.  It was only a few inches taller than he was.

At least I can stand and stretch my legs.

He felt his way around the perimeter of the room, pacing off the length and width.

Six feet wide and eight feet long.
 
All concrete.
 
Must be a storage room.

When he reached the door, he traced it with his fingertips. 

No hinges.  No doorknob. 
Opens from the outside.

He kicked the door a few times to test it for weakness.

Solid wood.
  I won't be able to break through it.

He swallowed hard and choked back his fear of being buried alive, something he’d carried with him since a cave-in during an operation in
Afghanistan

A valid concern and an easy option, but Nikolai is too smart to kill me—yet.

He followed the walls again, this time systematically feeling along every inch for cracks, openings or any sign of weakness.

Nothing.

He crawled on his hands and knees to feel every inch of the floor.

Great.
  They left me a ceramic pot under the cot.  Nice.  Not much of a weapon but it could work.  If it’s light out there when they open the door, I'll be blind for a few seconds after they open it.  That gives them enough time to get the advantage.

Vince heard footsteps.  He cocked his head toward the sound, straining to hear.

Two men.
 
Concrete floor.

A set of keys jingled and one key clicked into the lock.

A voice warned him from the other side of the door.  "Don't try anything stupid, mate.  I've been paid so I'm not averse to shooting you now."  Vince recognized the voice of the Australian who had snatched him at the airport.

He sat on the cot and waited.

Chapter Seven

Sarah sat back, took a sip of the Cabernet Sauvignon served with dinner and looked around the table at Will, Jason, Brian, and Chris—four of the most intelligent, talented, and interesting men she’d ever met.  Four men she loved
more than family.  Each of them was a skilled operative, and each had his own reasons for putting his CIA career on the line for Vince. 

She shook her head as she realized the immense gravity of the situation.  That's exactly what they were all doing—jeopardizing their careers to rescue Vince from eventual but certain death.  If they were picked up by local police or intelligence personnel, their identities would be flagged by the Agency within hours, and they’d be locked up for as long as the local authorities wanted to keep them.  They had flown in under the radar, on aliases with forged passports, and they were using offshore funds from numbered accounts.  They'd all be sent to jail for the rest of their natural lives if the Agency got wind of what they were up to. 

In spite of all that, this was about honor. 
The only code that mattered to anyone who had ever served in any military branch.
  You never leave a brother to die.  You fight.  You kill.  You may even die trying to save him, but it is an honorable way to go. 

After the butler finished serving the salad course, Will dismissed him.  "Thank you.  We'll do the rest."  Will nodded to Brian who stood and locked the service door after he watched the butler disappear down the corridor.