Taking Fire (15 page)

28

Gun in a two-handed grip, Bobby searched the parking lot and moved with Talia behind the protection of a stone column supporting the portico. It would be easy for someone to hide out there in the acres of asphalt interspersed with palm trees and dim lights.

“I don't see anyone,” he whispered close to her ear. “Not even Sanju.”

“Stand down. It's me.” A voice came out of the dark beside them.

Talia swung around, aiming at the source.

Bobby pivoted with her, then grabbed her hands and jerked her Glock skyward. Surprised by her strength, he spun her around and immobilized her by trapping her arms between them.

“What are you doing?” she cried when he wrestled the gun away from her.

“He's trying to keep you from killing me.” Nate Black stepped out of the shadows.

“It's okay, Talia. It's Nate.” When Bobby was certain she'd gotten the message, he released her. “You've made better entrances, boss.”

“Yeah,” Black said, and for the first time ever, Bobby thought he looked a little sheepish. “Bad timing. I thought I'd catch you in the lobby. Thank God you make one pale, tall Arab and I recognized you, or this could have gotten ugly,” he added, giving Bobby's native garb a once-over. “Great reflexes—both of you.”

Bobby pocketed his Beretta and handed Talia her Glock. “Talia Levine. Nate Black.”

“Miss Levine.”

Talia's small frame was still coiled tight with tension. “Mr. Black.”

“We need to move out. There's an Omani military patrol about two blocks behind us, and you two share the number one slot on their most wanted list.”

“How did they find us?” Talia sounded alarmed.

“How did
you
find us?” Bobby wanted to know. “And when did you get here?”

“Let's get into the car. Then I'll explain everything.”

*   *   *

Tucked into the shadows behind the hotel, a black Land Cruiser idled quietly. Black settled into the shotgun seat. Taggart opened the back door, urged Talia inside, then climbed into the backseat beside her.

The interior was dark—no light came on when the doors opened—so it took Talia a moment to recoup her night vision. Only when he spoke did she realize another man shared the backseat with them.

“It's always gotta be high drama with you, huh, Boom?”

“Coop.” Taggart tugged off his headwear and reached across in front of her to shake Coop's extended hand. “Glad to see you, man. Damn glad.”

“Thank
you
for getting us out of Honduras. Always did prefer a dry hell to a wet one. And you know how Carlyle is.” Coop notched his chin toward the man behind the wheel. “Grumpy as a swamp rat when his golden locks get all curly from the humidity.”

“Hey. At least I've
got
hair.” This protest came from the driver—Carlyle, apparently—as he shifted into reverse and backed away from the hotel.

“Carlyle.” Affection filled Taggart's voice. “I appreciate it, bud. Anybody else in here?”

“The rest of the team is setting up shop.” Black checked his watch. “We should be there within twenty minutes.”

Just as they swung around the side of the hotel and headed out through the service entrance, three Omani military vehicles roared up the front drive toward the portico.

“Now, I'd say that's good timing,” Carlyle said, driving past them.

Black glanced over his shoulder. “Are we going to need to worry about anyone in the hotel ID'ing you?”

“I think we're good.” Taggart glanced at her, and she nodded in agreement. “Place was dark, and we were well concealed in these clothes. And the bar was packed. We spoke to one person, and she's just as eager for Amir al-Attar to get his as we are.”

His statement had Black wrenching around in his seat. “You got a lead?”

“Yeah,” Taggart said, sounding relieved. “We got a lead.”

“Nose like a hound dog,” the man called Coop said with a grin.

“Okay, before the shit gets too deep in here,” Taggart cut in, “Talia Levine, meet Brett Carlyle, our wheel man tonight.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma'am.” Carlyle met her gaze in the rearview mirror.

Warm from not only the Omani heat but also the close quarters in the vehicle, Talia removed her headwear and indulged in the cool blast from the air-­conditioner. “Thank you for coming.”

“Happy to help.”

She couldn't see much of Carlyle's face in the dark, but she sensed the same qualities in him that Taggart and Black possessed: integrity, determination, and confidence. She wondered how much they knew about Meir. Were they here helping to find her lost child, or did they know Taggart was Meir's father?

“This guy and I go way back,” Taggart said, leaning around her again to get a look at the man beside her. “He knows what he's doing. What Rhonda sees in him, however, is lost on me. Talia, meet Jamie Cooper.”

“Ma'am,” Cooper said with a nod. “I'm sorry for your trouble.”

“Thank you.” So this handsome man was Rhonda's husband.

“So what's with the hair?” Taggart asked him.

Cooper smoothed a hand over his bald head. “Learned my lesson the last time we drilled in Central America. Too damn hot. Much cooler without it.”

“And how does Rhonda feel about it?”

“She's got a thing for Vin Diesel so it's working for her. At least, for the time being.”

She wasn't sure why Taggart found that funny, but he actually laughed. Something Talia hadn't heard him do since Kabul, and she'd missed it.

It was a release for him. His team was here; the two of them weren't in this alone now. Needling, joking, trash talking—it was how warriors let off steam. It was how they stayed sane.

“Don't mind these idiots,” Black said from his shotgun seat. “They'll level off soon enough.”

“It's all right.” And it was. She was so thankful they'd actually arrived. It wasn't that she'd doubted Taggart; it was just that so much could have gone wrong and kept them from getting here.

“I know you want information,” Black continued, “but if you can hold off a little longer, we'll arrive at our temporary HQ. You'll meet the rest of the team then, and we'll read everyone in at the same time.”

“That's fine. And thank you again. I can't tell you how much—”

“No need,” Black interrupted kindly. “I hope you don't take this the wrong way, ma'am—”

“Talia.” She interrupted this time. “Please call me Talia, all of you.”

“All right, Talia.” Black began again. “You two look exactly like you've been through a bombing and are running on little sleep. You sure you're okay?” Concern darkened his expression as he took in Taggart's head wound and the bruises on her face.

“I'm fine,” they both said in unison, and got a
sure you are
look from Black.

“Just the same,” he said, “if you boys can keep the reunion jabs down to a dull roar, maybe Talia can catch a much-needed combat nap.”

*   *   *

She didn't get her nap, but she did close her eyes and rest for several minutes. When she opened them again, they'd neared the waterfront and the beginning of a major industrial area, where the buildings appeared to house administrative offices. They passed several blocks of both old and new construction. The scent of the sea and crude oil hung thick in the air, even in the air-conditioned interior of the SUV.

Carlyle bypassed several complexes and finally stopped in front of a gated, chain-linked lot that enclosed a newer three-story cement-block building.
Royal Brit Petroleum
was painted in red block letters across the front of the building. Cooper jumped out and unlocked the padlocked gate, then locked it behind them after Carlyle drove the Land Cruiser through.

He pulled around to the back of the building, hit a remote entry clipped to the visor, and waited until an overhead garage door opened. Then he pulled inside and closed the door behind them.

Talia stepped out of the SUV with the others and found herself in a cavernous parking garage housing two similar SUVs and a large white utility van. Otherwise, the garage was empty.

“Presents?” Taggart asked, walking toward the van.

“Take a look,” Black said.

Taggart opened the van's double back doors. “Holy shit.”

Talia couldn't help gaping at what was inside. She was looking at a rolling armory: 1911A1 pistols and sound suppressors to fit them, M4 carbine rifles also equipped with sound suppressors, FAST helmets with top-of-the-line night-vision/thermal-imaging goggles fixed to them.

There was body armor, boxes of thirty-round magazines, and the ammo to fill them. She spotted flashbangs and smoke grenades and radios for communication that, given the high-tech quality of everything else, probably had voice-activated throat mikes and earpieces that fit under sound-deadening hearing protection.

These guys didn't kid around. They could lay siege to the entire city with this much firepower.

“No shit?” Taggart said, smiling. “You brought the drone?”

“Said I would.”

Taggart laughed. “Yeah, but I didn't think you could pull it off. So where's the Abrams tank?”

Black almost grinned. “Requisition didn't come through.” He closed the van's doors. “Let's go hook up with the rest of the team.”

He punched a series of numbers into a keypad by a thick steel door. “Since Muscat is pretty much locked down because of the embassy bombing, Rhonda was able to secure this building on short notice. It helped that our British friends play well with others.”

Yeah, and for a lot of money, Talia thought. Whoever these guys worked for, it was obvious they had the resources to back up the operation. And while she was still consumed with fear for Meir, she also felt energized with a new sense of hope.

Once the door opened, Black led them down a long concrete and steel corridor. Their footsteps echoed hollowly in the dimly lit hallway; the air-­conditioning made a soft, shushing sound as it traveled through silver ducts running along the tall ceilings. They reached another door that opened to a set of stairs and walked down them to a basement-level conference room.

Black rapped twice on the door and waited. When the door opened, he urged her and Taggart into the room ahead of him. A huge table filled the center of the room, surrounded by cushy leather chairs. Plastic plants were arranged in the corners, and pictures from ads showing Royal Brit Petroleum company workers giving ice cream and school supplies to impoverished children filled the walls. She was stunned to see the level and complexity of activity already taking place.

Four men and one woman, all dressed similarly in dark T-shirts and pants, occupied the large room that now also held her, Taggart, Black, Carlyle, and Cooper. The scent of freshly brewed coffee perked her up a bit, and she spotted a Bunn coffeemaker on a side table. A screen and a projector were set up at the front of the room. Several laptops were booted up and filled with data and photographs.

When the door closed behind them, the room grew quiet, and all eyes turned to her and Taggart.

“Boom!” They all greeted him in unison.

Taggart grinned and lifted his hand. “Man, am I glad to see you all.”

“Talia Levine,” Nate Black said, “meet the rest of the team. Sound off, people.”

“Enrique Santos.” A short, solidly built Latino with a soul patch and soft brown eyes smiled at her. “Pleasure to meet you, ma'am.”

“Mike Brown.” The movie-star-gorgeous operative had the tall, dark, and handsome thing down to an art form. “Sorry you got stuck with one of the ugly ones,” he added, with a grinning nod toward Taggart.

Beside her, Taggart snorted a laugh. “Stick it where the sun don't shine, Primetime.

“He's pretty,” he told Talia, “and he's vain, but as you can see, he comes through in a pinch.”

The woman in the group, a stunning brunette with kind eyes and a warm smile, walked forward and extended her hand. “I'm Stephanie Green. I'll be working with Rhonda, who will be handling things back in the States. We're going to get your son back,” she said, with a conviction that had Talia gripping her hand like a lifeline.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“The quiet one back there”—Stephanie nodded toward another tall, lean warrior type—“is my husband, Joe.”

Talia returned Joe Green's somber nod. His confident manner told her all she needed to know about him.

She swallowed a gasp when a man stepped out of the shadows and introduced himself as Gabe Jones. He had a poet's face and a soldier's bearing, and the combination was breathtaking.

“We're missing a few.” Taggart turned to Black.

“They all wanted to come, but DOD does have its limits.”

“Hey, you've got the cream here, man. Let's get this done.” Cooper clasped Taggart's shoulder in encouragement.