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  Viva frowned, coming to him, and Sam looked too damn grateful for the distraction. “That’s a lot of food for a home.”

  “Enough to cater a very large party, maybe two hundred, and the house isn’t that big.” He brought up the files. “Nothing special about it.”

  “Other than it’s connected to Voslav, that jet, Rohki, and the diamonds,” Sam said. “Check it out. Surveillance only.”

  Sebastian hurried to put some of the strangest gear she’d seen in a pack. “The owner is a corporation. Can’t get more than a name. Which means it’s probably a dummy.” Sebastian was already at the door when Logan joined him.

  “I’m not sitting this one out.”

  Sam kissed her tight mouth. “Hold down the fort, Viva.”

  Within minutes, Viva was alone. The phone rang. “Set the alarms,” Sam said. “Don’t open the doors for anyone but us.”

  “Oh, gee, you think?” she said, irritated he wouldn’t let her join him.

  His deep chuckle filtered through the phone, lighting her insides. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  By his tone, she knew exactly how, and she smiled. He gave her the codes and she punched them in. An instant later she heard the locks click around the house, a green light blink on the panel. She was surrounded now by sensors, explosives, and alarms. And weapons, she thought, looking at the array of gear neatly arranged in the corner of the living room.

  She turned to the computers, watching the green dot representing the chopper move toward Max’s last location. For a very long time she hadn’t worried about anyone except herself. Now she had four men who meant more to her than her own family.

  And they walked into danger like it was a trip to the market.

  Seventeen

  A moonless night was perfect for surveillance. No glare, no shadows. Perched on a hillside, Sebastian eyeballed the house through the night vision binoculars. There were no cars in the driveway, but the guards walking a post said this wasn’t the average suburban home. Stretched out on his stomach, Sebastian pointed the directional acoustics device, a long name for a snoop machine. Max had redesigned it for longer distance.

  Behind him, Logan adjusted the frequency, listening to the noise in the house.

  They heard dishes clanking and the rapid trot of footsteps that could only mean children. Light and fast.

  “Kids?” Sebastian asked and the hackles on his neck came to attention.

  “You didn’t see where Viva was kept. Voslav wouldn’t be so kind as to house slaves for sale in a place like that. And if it is, then someone’s already taken over his business. Heads up, we have visual.” The lights were on inside the house and Sebastian had a decent view. It was modern, straight lines with balconies and built into the side of the hill. With three sides to watch, the guards had a view of the city below.

  They saw a girl grab a little boy and pull him back from the window when a guard stepped in front of her.

  “She looks like a teenager,” Logan said. “Maybe seventeen?”

  “I can’t make out the language, it’s not Thai, though.” Logan whipped out his cell.

  Sebastian glanced at him. “Who you calling?”

  “Viva.” She got the phone on the first ring. Bored, he thought. “I need your language help.”

  “Finally, some use around here. I’ve found something you should see.”

  “Later. Can you translate this?” He hit play on the recording. It was so rapid, he couldn’t even pick out the tones. “Anything?”

  “It’s Hindi. Raibur, you must behave. They will hurt us,” she translated. “Sounds very young. Whoever answers is a child. High, whining, he’s crying for his father. And the girl says he will come. She says it over and over.”

  He thanked her, ended the call, then refocused the binoculars.

  Sebastian saw a child move toward the windows again, the backlight of the house showing a young girl shielding the boy when a guard shouted at the kid. He shuttered off a few pictures of it. “They’re captive, that’s obvious, but why?”

  Logan lowered the binoculars and looked at Sebastian. “That’s the diamond cutter’s family.” He’d seen their pictures in the Sri Lanka newspaper. “We have to help them.”

  “Roger that.” Sebastian searched for a good way to get inside. “Hold on. Look at the door, to the right of it.”

  Logan changed his position and adjusted the focus. “Hell. This just got really ugly.”

  A soft tone hummed and Sebastian twisted as Logan hit the remote he carried.

  “Pack it up, something tripped the sensors.”

  Viva was the only one at the CP—alone.

  Max straightened slowly. His gaze went to the shop window in front of him, but it was too dark to see the face behind him. The guy was big, this wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Hands on the hood.”

  Max lifted his hands and the man reached for his weapon.

  Max cocked his leg and drove his heel back into a kneecap. The man groaned and Max turned, hitting his solar plexus, then his jaw before a leg sweep knocked the man off his feet and onto the pavement. Max drew his weapon, aiming.

  “Hands up, up.” He aimed closer. Max disarmed him, then searched his pockets for ID. When he found it, he looked between the man and the wallet. “Christ.”

  The man wiped at the blood on his lips. “God, I hate it when that happens.”

  “Get up. You’re supposed to be clandestine.”

  He stood, brushing himself off, rubbed his knee.

  Max handed back the ID. “Why are you following me?”

  Kincade’s eyes narrowed.

  “I saw you a half hour ago. Was that your handiwork back there?”

  “He was already dead.”

  “Someone ghosting the buyers.”

  Kincade tried not to show a reaction.

  “As much as it gags me to say it, we’re on the same team,” Max said.

  “Price was a first-class bitch,” Adam said, leaning against the car and rubbing his stomach.

  “Okay, now we can be friends.”

  Kincade snickered a laugh.

  “We need to get out of here.” Max frowned at the sky. The black chopper circled overhead, the spotlight sweeping the area around the car. Hurriedly, he opened the car door and grabbed the radio. “Outlaw?”

  “Jesus, Drac. Check in, dammit.”

  This from the man who left Sri Lanka alone? “Nice to know you care, buddy. Had a problem. Got a prize for you.” He looked at Kincade. “Get in.”

  “I’m only going because I have orders to cooperate.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Max said. “And Price was the Queen of England.”

  The chopper lifted higher and Max and Kincade headed south. He radioed the CP and didn’t get an answer. He tried the cell. Nothing. “Drac to Outlaw, I’m getting no response at the CP. Viva with you?”

  “No, dammit. She’s alone.”

  Max heard the fear in his voice and Max sped toward the house.

  Sipping a soda, Viva left the kitchen and headed back to the computer to keep searching. The entire system blinked, as if a power surge had hit. She moved closer, opening the programs Logan had running. Everything seemed fine. He even had messages.

  Then a sharp, loud noise startled her and her soda went flying.

  Immediately, she grabbed the 9 mm and cocked the slide, chambering a bullet just like Sam had shown her. It was heavy in her hand as she hurried to the panel and hit the screen. The red dots showed the triggered sensors. End of the driveway and walk. Great. She hit the camera, repositioning to the drive. Nothing there. Not even a breeze.

  Then something slammed against the door and she lurched back, aiming, and hoped it was someone nice. “I really don’t want to hurt you,” she called out, but the alarms were louder. She hit the mute. That’s when she heard the base radio.

  “Viva. Viva! Answer me!”

  She rushed to it. “I’m here, I’m here, Sam. Something hit the front door, but I can’t see an
yone.”

  “I’m touching down in one minute. Hold tight, baby.”

  “See, you should have taken me with you.” A hard pound rattled the door and she spun, aiming.

  CIA, Langley

  Virginia

  David Lorimer watched the satellite screen and wondered if a promotion meant he’d be bored. His job, along with tracking satellite alignment for intel feeds to operations around the world, was to sift through the visuals and send them to the appropriate analysts. Those people, who poured over imagery, could tell a rocket launcher from a stinger, a truck from a building, and pinpoint the slightest movement around enemy commands and training camps. Often it was a single analyst’s insight that had stopped attacks around the globe.

  The clock ticked off the seconds and his boss was impatient for the alignment feed to make contact in Thailand. “David?”

  “Yes, sir, alignment in five, four, three, two…”

  The entire system flickered, the computer screens blinking. Analysts cursed and David tried getting the link back up.

  “The systems are fine.” David frowned, confused at that. “But it’ll be five minutes before we are linked again.”

  His boss cursed and left the Sat comm booth, tossing the headset aside. “Get the techs up here, find out what did that.”

  David made the call, then reworked the alignment feed to get the satellite link connected and confirmed. It shouldn’t have done that. Nothing should have. Satellites were electromagnetic-pulse protected, and an EMP would have burned up anything it was connected with, too. Yet power here was fine, his links to other operations untouched. Energy bursts were unheard of.

  He worked the keyboard, turning to another system. Where did it come from?

  The slap to her face stung up to her eyes and Noor woke instantly. Her gaze shot around, and she was surprised by her surroundings—and the man looming over her. He dared strike her again.

  “You have some definite personal issues, my sweet.”

  She glared at him, then kicked out, her foot connecting with his groin. Jalier folded in pain. “Now you do.”

  Jalier glared at her, agony climbing up his body, and he inclined his head. Zidane latched his hands around her upper arms and yanked her from Jalier.

  “You killed my buyers, why?”

  “I have done no such thing,” she said calmly. “Look to the cowboy, or these people you want to trust with that.” She nodded to the solarium yards beyond them. “I would not betray you. I have no reason.”

  Jalier moved in gingerly, touched his fingers beneath her chin, then tipped her face up. “The kills bear your touch, and that brings me short two buyers.”

  The edge to his voice made Noor inch back.

  He tossed down computer photos. “Explain.”

  She glanced at the photos, her look speaking her ambiguity to the gruesome shots. “I did not do this.”

  “My buyers are afraid of you.”

  “They should be, my loyalty is to you, Constantine.” She yanked from Zidane’s grasp, twisting to glare at him.

  Zidane merely arched a brow, calm, emotions concealed.

  “You do this because I will not come to your bed,” she said.

  “I would have to want you first.”

  Hurt sprang in her features, then vanished. It was a brief encounter with the woman locked inside.

  “One man could not do this to another.” He pointed to the photo, the crotch of the man carved away.

  “Not unless he didn’t have balls,” she said with a look down his body.

  “Stop it! You jeopardize everything. Now? Lock her up.”

  Noor whipped around and Zidane knew it was her worst nightmare to be confined. She bolted, her feet almost soundless as she vaulted over furniture like quicksilver, agile, swift. She was out the doors and into the darkness before Zidane made it into the hall.

  Jalier sank into the chair, knowing the man wouldn’t catch her. It had taken months to bring her to him, and now, if she wished to be gone, they would never find her. His gaze fell on the photos. Zidane’s men were searching for the others, bringing them to him for safety. Four were inside the compound, unaware of their location. He didn’t want them here, this close, but he had no choice. He rubbed his crotch and pain throbbed in sharp points.

  Noor was a liability and must be dealt with immediately.

  Sam swooped over the land and touched down. He shut off the engines, hopping out of the chopper, his weapon drawn as he hurried to the side of the house, sliding along the wall. His heart was in his throat, the thought of Viva harmed tearing at his insides.

  He peered around the edge to the front door. A body lay sprawled across the porch. He scanned the area, thinking it was a ruse, and moved back to check further on the property, then edged to the porch again. He knelt, searching the body for weapons, or triggers, then checked for a pulse. Thready.

  Watching his back, he called out. “Viva, open up.”

  The locks sprang and she opened the door. “Oh, my God.”

  “Pull him in.” Sam watched the drive and street as she grabbed the man by the shirt and yanked him over the threshold. Inside Sam reset the sensors, and knelt.

  Viva grabbed a towel from the kitchen and rushed back, sliding on her knees on the floor. “Look at him, his leg, his ribs, he’s cut up pretty bad.” And a while ago, she thought.

  Sam bent close, checking his eyes. “Kashir, Kashir?”

  “You know him?”

  “My contact in the jungle. He’s Interpol.”

  She held the cloth to his side, and tried to check his wounds. “These are nasty.” She looked for more, her hand sliding under him and coming away covered in blood. “He’s been stabbed in the back.”

  “Christ.” Who the hell knew he was Interpol?

  Viva tore open his pant leg, washing the wound. “The tendons behind his knee are cut. How did he even walk?” With wet cloths, she washed the dried blood. “Get me some water, medical supplies.”

  As Sam left, Viva hurried to the kitchen washing her hands, then returned, breaking open the supplies and snapping on latex gloves. Viva cleaned up the man’s wounds. “He needs Logan, he needs stitches, maybe surgery. It’s deep. They’re all deep.” The man stirred when she pried off the blood-soaked rags. “I’m sorry, but we have to clean this.”

  “Kashir,” Sam said close to his face. “What happened?”

  His eyes opened, and he grabbed her wrist, startling her.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she cooed, stroking his head. “Who did this to you?”

  There was an irony in his dying expression. “Someone I trusted,” gurggled past his lips. He choked and blood oozed from the corner of his mouth. “The dealer. He has power.”

  “We know.”

  Kashir tried to shake his head, but didn’t have the strength. “Right power.”

  Then he said something Sam didn’t understand and Viva leaned closer as the man repeated it, the words slurred. Then they faded, his breath rattling in his chest. Viva immediately started CPR, pumping his chest. Sam breathed into his mouth, then checked the pulse.

  “Stop. He’s gone.”

  Viva didn’t, kept pushing, counting.

  “Viva!” He gripped her shoulders and she lifted her gaze. “I’m sorry, honey, he’s gone.”

  She looked down at the body between them and fell back on her rear, rubbing her forehead with the back of her wrist. Death still rattled her. “I wish people would stop doing that around me.”

  Sam closed Kashir’s vacant eyes, then searched the body again. “He’s got nothing on him, no money, no ID. An Interpol agent without his gun?” He looked at her. “Tell me you understood what he said.”

  She wiped a tear. “I’m not sure. My Farsi isn’t great. It doesn’t make any sense. He who concedes?” Viva recited the phrase over and over in her head, sure she was getting it wrong. Then her gaze flew to his. “Negotiation or negotiator?”

  “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense.”
Kashir couldn’t just give him a name? Or did he even know it?

  “Who has power and negotiates?” she asked aloud as she repacked Logan’s gear, wanting anything to focus on except the dead agent.

  “Government. Corporations. Senate, national councils.” Sam’s voice faded as he went to get a blanket to wrap the body. “Ambassadors. To negotiate treaties, deals.” Sam stopped short and met her gaze. “Diplomats.”

  She scrambled to her feet, almost lunging at the computer. “That ring in the picture. I bet it’s a diplomat or consulate seal.”

  “Sir, there’s something you should see.”

  David’s boss, who was much more personable than Price had ever been, moved beside his desk. “That break in the link, it was an energy spike.”

  “Your point?”

  “Energy spikes from a satellite are impossible. They are programmed to follow a pattern and the cells keep the power even. It’s more than reliable, it’s accurate. But with the spike, the systems didn’t go off-line or they’d have rebooted. Which is automatic with a power flux. But it’s not here. It’s up there.” He pointed to the big screen that took up the walls.

  “Say again.”

  “The flux was with the bird, not these systems.” David knew the satellite they used was connected to an entire network of the US government.

  “You’re certain? Absolutely certain?”

  “Yes sir, I did a back check. We didn’t lose any data, not even a reboot. Just a break in the contact. It lasted about fifteen seconds.”

  “Any idea of the cause?”

  “No, sir, but it’s happened before. Eight days ago. Right about the time the dam in Sri Lanka blew.”

  “Coincidence.” His boss stared down at him long enough to make David feel like a bug under a microscope, then he said, “See if you can pinpoint it.”

  “I already tried, the only way we can is if it happens again, and then it’s a matter of seconds. If we can lock on to it, maybe a little more time.”

  “We can tell which satellite is affected?”

  “Just the relay, sir. It covered line-of-sight hookup to the Asia Theatre.”