Hit Hard Page 23

“We can’t give it to him; he’s done too much to get it,” Logan said.

  Sam looked at him. “Yeah, like using Viva. Because of us. I’ll be damned if I let that bastard have her.”

  Sam grabbed the diamond off the coffee table. It had been a bowl all this time, like a ordinary piece of crystal and not a couple hundred million in conflict ice. He looked at his teammates. “This man has been one step ahead and killing everyone in his way. He won’t hesitate to kill her.”

  “That stone is more than some obsession with him,” Max added.

  “Good enough reason not to give it to him.” Logan was the team’s pessimist.

  “If you can think of a better way to handle this, I’m open,” Sam snapped. He would not let Viva suffer for this. Never.

  “Killian’s on the wire.” Logan hit the speakerphone.

  “Riley’s awake.” Ooh rahs and smiles wreathed the team. “He’s not talking yet and in a lot of pain, but he’s going to make a full recovery. Alexa and I are taking him back to the US.”

  Logan apprised them of the latest developments.

  “Let me talk to Sam, alone.” Sam grabbed the phone and moved away. “The team might tell you not to trade for her, but I won’t.”

  “It isn’t going to stop the weapons’ deal, Killian.”

  “No doubt. The bastard’s got stones out the ass. This is your game, Sam. You call it.”

  “We trade,” he said without hesitation. “It’s our fault.”

  “Roger that. Next time, send the woman packing.”

  Sam heard what sounded like a smack and Killian laughed.

  Alexa’s voice murmured in the background, then Killian said, “Alexa tried to contact Kashir, no dice. He missed the contact point twice. She pulled a string with that kid, Lorimer. CIA is tracking your moves. Expect interference.”

  “More than they have already?” And damn near got them killed chasing them through the city.

  “Yeah, well, she said if you need to trust someone there, it’s Adam Kincade.”

  Killian signed off and Sam tapped the phone against his chin. He didn’t realize he’d been gripping the diamond all this time till his palm ached. He looked down at it, possibilities forming. “She has a marker, we go in with the best advantage. Reply to that e-mail with a cell number.” He tossed the diamond at Sebastian. “Rig it.”

  Less than an hour later, Sam’s cell phone rang. He looked at the number, showed it to Logan, who copied and started a search. He opened the call.

  “You received my message,” the caller said without preamble. “Though you cannot see her beautiful red hair.”

  Sam ground his teeth, and gave the team a thumbs-up. “I’ll trade.”

  “Good. You will join me on the twelfth floor of the Jewelry Trade Center.”

  “No, I choose.”

  “I have your woman.”

  “And I have your stone.” Sam’s temper flared and he drew in air, hoping he didn’t lose it. He grabbed a map of Bangkok and ran his finger over a path. “Outside, Temple of Wa Phat.”

  “No. Too open.”

  “Look, pal, you accommodate me, or the consequences will give you nightmares.”

  Logan shook his head, still tracing. “It’s an onion router, Sam, he’s got his ass covered, he could be in Istanbul for all we know.”

  “You’d risk the woman’s life?” the caller said.

  Never. “Harm her and your stone goes in the Chaipya River.” Sam could care less about the diamond.

  “It’s worth millions.”

  “It would help you to remember that.”

  There was a long silence and then, “I agree.”

  “Two hours. You call this number. I’ll tell you what to do.” Sam heard an irritated noise.

  “You think to run me around the city? No.”

  Arrogant bastard. “Not an option. My way or the highway, pal.” Sam cut the line.

  “You’re insane,” Max said, but was already reaching for communications gear.

  Only Sam’s gaze lifted. “Viva has a marker. We’ll see them coming.”

  Max shot over to the GPS programmed with the biomarker. “That’s if she’s with him. What’s the advantage?”

  “To make him so eager to get his hands on the stone, he’ll slip up.”

  Sebastian came out of the kitchen, carrying a small wooden box. “It’s ready. You sure you want it like this? Viva could get hurt.”

  “Not if our timing is good.” He looked at Logan. “Be prepared, he’s had her long enough to implant something in her mind again.”

  “I didn’t get a trace.” Logan yanked off the headset and tossed it. “Dammit. The onion router, that’s high tech. I made my own software, but for an entire system, it’s expensive, and you need several networks that have the same capability.”

  “That’s freaking Greek to me,” Sam said.

  “It means that he has a clandestine routing system that rivals the NSA.”

  “Then her marker is our only way to track.”

  Time meant nothing to Viva.

  Her surroundings were merely a housing, leaving prisons only her mind could conjure. Telling herself that Sam would find her didn’t ease her terror. He thought she was in England. A pinprick to her skin, a hand over her mouth before she made it to the jet hatch, and everything changed.

  This was really starting to piss her off.

  She couldn’t see, her head wrapped in fabric. It was so snug she couldn’t raise her eyelids. No one spoke to her, and she heard nothing beyond doors opening and closing. Of course, the tape over her mouth took away prime moments for some really good verbal attacks anyway. The only thing they’d allowed her was to pee. Try that with your hands tied, she thought, and didn’t know if she’d had an audience. At this point, it didn’t matter. She’d been inspected by slavers, dressed like a genie, and nearly raped and choked to death. Modesty wasn’t up there with survival.

  Amazing, she thought, that she’d killed one man and felt remorse, not regret. Right now, she could easily stick a knife in this bastard and feel nothing.

  Sam stood at the end of a long carpet of grass. Temple devotees walked the grounds, cars parked alongside the road. In the distance, Max strolled, the image of a student tourist, taking pictures, wearing a backpack and grubby clothes. People would have to get close to notice he was well past the age of a college kid. His attention was on the people, looking for any clue to the bastard that had Viva.

  Sam prayed he didn’t hurt her.

  “Outlaw, your three o’clock,” came through the comms.

  Sam glanced in Max’s direction as he turned and focused the camera. “Roger that.”

  The sedan rolled down the street alongside the park, the windows tinted black.

  Sam stepped into clear view. The car stopped, and his cell rang. “Show me the woman.”

  The door opened. A tall, swarthy man in a black suit stepped out, then reached into the car. A figure appeared, grappling for a handhold, staggering as the man pulled her in front of him.

  She was hooded, her head wrapped in black cloth.

  “That could be anyone,” he said into the phone. The clothing was the same and she wore the bracelet, but that could be staged.

  “You will have to trust me.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “I can see inside the car,” Sebastian said from his position on the hill. “The guy is hooded, too. Paranoid, isn’t he?”

  “Show me her face,” Sam demanded. “Now.”

  “Show me the diamond.”

  “And let you shoot me now? No. I have it and you know it. Your little dart hunter saw it. Now show me her face!”

  There was a muffled comment, then the man who held her loosened the hood and yanked it off. He saw the red hair first and she blinked against the sunlight, tried to touch her face, but the man held her arms. Across her mouth was a wide strip of tape and her hands were tied.

  She looked around, then across the expanse of grass, and saw him.

&
nbsp; Sam’s heart soared. She’s okay. Her eyes flared, and even across the distance, he could feel her fear, her shock.

  Then the man hooded her and pushed her back in the car.

  “The west dock. Forty minutes,” Sam said.

  “No, we deal now,” the caller said.

  “If you’re late, you can dive for the diamond in the river.”

  “And you can also do so for the woman.”

  And with her mouth taped, she’d never get a breath, Sam thought. “Guess you’d better hurry, huh?”

  Sam turned away and his gaze drifted to the van, to Sebastian on the hill.

  “There’s only two in the car other than Viva.”

  “His voice isn’t altered, you get the accent? He sounds French but with something else, Middle Eastern, maybe, it’s guttural,” Max said, the comms linked to Logan at the CP, recording everything.

  “Sebastian?”

  “I’ve got nothing on him, he stayed back in the seat and concealed.”

  And still no idea who they were dealing with.

  The sedan pulled away. “They’re on the move.”

  Sam hopped on a motorcycle and headed toward the docks. He wanted Viva in his arms before nightfall.

  Inside the car, Viva waited for someone to speak again. Before now, they hadn’t said anything she could decipher, just whispered words. Now the speaker was ticked off. The fury in his tone, his impatience meant nothing to her beyond the accent. Any doubts about who had her evaporated. She was at the mercy of the same person who’d violated her mind.

  She hoped the next time Sam saw him, he shot the bastard in the head.

  At the dock yards, Sam watched from the roof of a warehouse. This time Sam didn’t show himself and forced the dealer to show Viva. They wouldn’t allow her to move, to give him any signal, and that made him suspicious. Had they drugged her? “Roof of the Italthai. I’m waiting.”

  Inside the car, Jalier cursed rudely. “We take this man. He thinks to toy with me.”

  “No more than you have with her.” Zidane gestured to the woman who sat perfectly still, her bound hands on her lap.

  “You have sympathy for them?”

  “Of course not. You must deal with him on his terms. Sacrifice your pride. The outcome will get you the prize you covet.”

  Jalier snarled something in French, then looked out the window.

  Zidane’s gaze drifted to the woman, and he wondered what she thought of this. For a moment, he admired her calm and confidence in her man, then added his own, for the cowboy had neatly cornered Jalier, giving him no choice but to deal on his terms. But the woman’s lack of fear for Jalier, while an annoyance to the man, was unwise.

  Jalier had no allegiance, even in this bargain.

  It was several minutes before they reached the Italthai, driving into the lower garage. Zidane left the car and checked the area for bystanders before he opened the car door. A hooded woman would bring notice. The elevator was standing open and Jalier entered before Zidane bodily moved the woman inside. They rode to the top.

  “The hotel roof is a helicopter port.”

  “And dangerously windy. Have your men ready.”

  “And Noor?” Zidane asked.

  “Unnecessary.” His gaze drifted over the woman. He had glimpsed her face once, when she’d stabbed his highest bidder. He didn’t know her name, nor wished to learn it. He closed his hands over hers. She yanked back, protesting sounds muffled under the tape gag.

  “If he tries to betray me,” he told her softly, “you will both die.”

  She gave him a cocky pose that spoke loudly of her confidence. He wished he knew the man he was dealing with, but as with the woman, Jalier didn’t bother. They wouldn’t be alive long enough to matter.

  In the top of the Italthai tower, Zidane gripped the woman from behind by the arms. She stiffened. “There are steps,” he said near her ear.

  She tipped her head to the sound of his voice, almost curious. His accent, he decided. She was a confusing woman, offering no fight, only her distaste for Jalier. She’d been delivered to them, hooded, bound, and unconscious. By whom, Zidane didn’t know, yet since then, she’d been compliant, though Zidane felt as if he held uncapped energy. She fought her need to rebel. Prudent.

  Zidane had kept her secluded, away from all eyes, including Noor’s. Noor had learned the name of the man who had the stone and was eager to take revenge on him for her fall from grace with Jalier. She didn’t understand that Constantine Jalier had no attachment to her. Noor was a necessary evil. For now.

  Jalier stood on the small landing a few feet above them, then looked beyond. Zidane twisted. Noor approached.

  Jalier scowled, and motioned her back. “Cut her bonds,” he ordered. Zidane obeyed, and she rolled her shoulders, rubbed her wrists. Zidane urged the woman forward and she searched blindly for the railing, her hands moving without purchase. He placed her hand on the iron rail.

  “That’s Thai.” Noor reached for the cuff the woman wore.

  Jalier blocked her. “Leave it be, it doesn’t matter.”

  Noor ignored the command and tried to take the cuff, but Jalier gripped her wrist hard, throwing it back at her.

  “She wears a royal bracelet!”

  Jalier frowned at the thing. It was thick and hammered with dark stones of rubies and sapphires, but of no interest to him. He was not a curator of antiquities, nor was it of any value to him. He wanted his diamond, and that, he’d gain without Noor’s interference.

  “Then perhaps you should bow to her,” Zidane said and Noor glared at him. Then she spat in his face. He wiped the spittle, his eyes gone dangerously dark.

  “I want it. You owe me this,” Noor insisted.

  Jalier’s gaze narrowed sharply. “What?” The word snapped with ice.

  If Jalier thought she would cower, he was mistaken. Her entire being went rigid, her hand lying on her knives.

  “You defy me, now? For that?”

  Noor said nothing, fuming.

  “Don’t.” Disgust marked Jalier’s features before he pulled on a black mesh hood and turned away.

  Zidane helped the woman up the final staircase to the roof.

  “Are your men ready?” Jalier asked.

  Zidane nodded and he felt the woman tense under his grip, and make a sound, shaking her head. Begging them not to hurt anyone. It was pointless, she had to know that.

  If it benefited him, Jalier would push her over the edge of the high-rise.

  Wind howled around her, and Viva felt the sharp whip of it as she climbed the steps. They’re going to double-cross them. She was unsteady as she felt for the next step, and the man held her firmly, and told her to take three steps forward. His voice was surprisingly gentle. Then he let her go and she tottered, hating that she was blind.

  Viva held herself still and could do nothing. A pawn again.

  Jalier ascended the final steps. Wyatt was there already, in the center of the roof. Jalier glared back at Zidane. “You stupid fool. Did you not think to check?”

  Frowning, Zidane looked. Clever and curious, for he’d sent men up to check here only fifteen minutes ago. He scanned the nearby buildings, the rooftops, yet saw nothing unusual. At this level, the hotel was isolated from any other building.

  Zidane turned to Jalier, waving him on. “You have no choice now. Just as he planned.”

  Jalier glared at him, then squinted against the setting sun.

  Wyatt stood in a wide stance, heedless of the wind tearing across the pad. He held a small wood box, and Jalier’s pulse increased at the thought of having the stone. Then his gaze fell on the gun and whip at Wyatt’s hip. Americans, he thought, and stepped fully onto the platform. He twisted and pulled the woman forward and used her as a shield.

  “You are alone, how will you leave with her?”

  “Not your problem.”

  Behind his back, Jalier motioned to Zidane. Be ready.

  NMCC

  High-alert status sent a military
base to scrambling. Fast-moving operations in the Pentagon, they tried for calm, except for one young lieutenant. He raced down the hall to the “tank,” went through no less than three security checks and waited. When the general was alerted, they let him inside.

  General McGill looked up as the lieutenant hurried around the desk. “We have Ryzikov’s hard drive from his laptop.”

  A rumble of approving murmurs circled the room.

  “How the hell did we get that?”

  “It was sent to us via a secured program. From Thailand.”

  McGill frowned.

  “Commander Chambliss. Dragon One?” The lieutenant said, clueless.

  “I know who you mean.”

  “It’s under analysis and loading up, but this was encrypted.” He inserted the CD into the computer and tapped a few keys, bringing it up on the large screens.

  The schematics for the weapon. “Can they build from this?”

  “No, sir, for design and security purposes, Silent Fire was not a complete schematic in any one file. It was broken up into two parts. This is the main one, though, but the theory and reports are there.”

  “Gerardo has seen it?” The lieutenant nodded. “Get him on the wire. Now.” It was several minutes before the satellite link connected them.

  “I’ll let you speak with the designer,” was all Gerardo said, stepping back. A gentle-looking man lowered into the general’s chair.

  “The modification indicates that the thieves have altered the design to be powered by laser.”

  “That tells me little, sir.”

  “Instead of firing it with directional acoustics, the sound is modified by passing it along a laser, increasing the distance and accuracy. And the intensity.”

  Longer range and a lot more power, McGill thought. “What do they need to do this?”

  “That’s the concern. This is an impossible modification. It will not work without a clear substance for the beam to travel. No refraction or it will blow itself up. Glass, polymer, even crystal change in molecular structure or melt if hit with a laser. The only material that would withstand the heat of a laser is a diamond.”

  McGill’s lips tightened. They’d heard Ryzikov’s cell call, the mention of stones, and he looked down at the CIA report on conflict diamonds surfacing in Thailand right now.