Raptor 6 (49 page)

Somewhere in Afghanistan
29 July

B
egin.” Zmaray pointed to the table where the computer waited.

Zahrah stood, hands clasped and an ocean of terror before her. “As I told you,” she said, feeling the shudder of her grief sifting her courage. “I will not begin until you show me absolute proof that Dean is alive and back with his team.”

His cheek muscle twitched. Anger. She’d seen it before. “Is it not enough that you saw them remove him alive?”

Peace flooded her, knowing she had the power now. He wanted her help. She could give it. But not until she saw Dean living and breathing on American-held ground. “No.” She nodded toward the table. “Besides, what I need is not here.”

He stalked toward her, his face red. His hand flew swift and hard.

Zahrah stumbled back from the blow across her face. Dazed, she shielded her face. But just as swift, she knew she was still in control. More in control that Zmaray. She’d angered him, which showed she’d hit a nerve. Angry because he no longer had control.

“Kamran!”

Zahrah sucked in a breath at the name. Then held it as booted feet thudded closer.

“I would remind you, Miss Zarrick.” Zmaray moved back to the other side of the table, wiping his hands on a linen pocket napkin he’d extracted from his silk gray suit. “Control is an illusion. I may have granted your request to return Captain Watters, but I give no guarantees of your safety or well being until you”—he motioned to the computer—“fulfill your obligation.”

Kamran stood over her, pressing into her personal space.

Swallowing, Zahrah kept her gaze on the Asian. “I will do what you ask, but not under threat of violence. I have asked for one thing—reassurance that Captain Watters is alive and with his team.”

“I am not an American soldier. I cannot walk in and take a picture—” “You got this computer.” It felt like breathing underwater, what with Zmaray’s anger and Kamran’s imposing presence. “Surely you can manage to take a picture of him, alive.
Clearly
alive. Then I need better equipment to analyze and break down the encryption, to stop the box from self-destructing.”

“You could have told me this before.”

True, she could’ve. But this served to delay, to evade the end game, which was her hacking and possibly bringing down the entire military network. Compromising the lives of not only the American military, but also America herself. But she saved Dean. At least, she hoped she had. And that he’d understand what she’d been trying to tell him.

Please … find me, Dean. Before it’s too late. Before they make me do this …

Patrol Base Jaker, Nawa-I-Barakzayi, Afghanistan

Whoosh!

Glaring white seared his corneas. Dean grimaced and ducked. Dean squinted rapidly, trying to force his eyes to adjust.

The Marine frowned at him as several others gathered around, business ends of their weapons aimed at Dean’s head, then pointed to the tape as if asking permission.

Dean nodded and his body swayed. He jerked straight. Then his body pulled him backward. Dizzy … he was dizzy.

The Marine ripped off the tape.

After the moment of prickling fire, Dean stretched his jaw. “Watters …”
Breathe
.

“He needs water!” a grunt shouted.

“No.” Dean shook his head. Wet his lips. “Watters, Dean … Patrick … Captain.” His vision was ghosting. “Four f–four—” His body surrendered.

“Dean?”

The voice sounded a thousand miles away, a gargle of noise beneath a thick gray fog. Dean swam through it, searching for the voice. “Where …?”

“You there, Watterboy?”

The familiar old nickname tugged him to the surface. He blinked a few times. Face swooned in and out of focus.

“Sleeping on the job, eh, Cap’n?”

“Hawk.” Dean wanted to smile at the guy’s jab, but speaking was harder than he thought. The name caught at the back of his throat. His eyes finally adjusted and he found himself surrounded by the team. In a hospital room.

“They got a tube in your mouth.” Falcon explained.

“Guess they got tired of you yelling, too.” Hawk never stopped. “Eagle went to the get the nurse.”

Dean blinked. Eagle’s back?

A nurse returned with Todd Archer, who gave him a nod of greeting.

“Captain Watters,” the nurse said. “I’m going to remove the feeding tube. If you’ll sit up,” she said, taking hold of his left hand and tugging him upright. “Now, don’t fight it.”

“Don’t fight?” Falcon sniggered. “That’s all that guy does.”

The tube came up, burning and inciting his gag reflex. Finally free of the tube, he coughed. His throat burned.

“Here,” the nurse said. “Sip this slowly.”

Dean nodded, easing back against the bed. Soft bed. Pillow. Luxuries compared to what he and— “Zahrah.” Chest seizing with the memory of what she’d done, he tried to sit forward.

“Oy, easy there.” Titanis moved in and held Dean back. “You were severely dehydrated and undernourished, with quite a mangled hand.”

Dean glanced down at the temporary cast that ensconced his right forearm and fingers. “We have to get her back.”

Falcon’s dark eyes intensified. “What do you know?”

“Yes,” came the booming voice of General Burnett. “Tell us what you know.”

“Give the guy a break,” Eagle said. “He just—”

“How’s Zahrah?” Her father. Right behind Burnett. Eyes ignited with a lethal cocktail of fear and anger. No doubt ticked Dean had returned without Zahrah, which shot him up with fear that she wasn’t alive.

“She’s alive—or was.” He grabbed the bed remote and raised the head so he was sitting upright.

“Why’d they throw you back?” Zarrick glared.

“I think … I think that was her doing.” Dean tried to think through it all. “I think she made a deal.”

“You telling me she turned traitor?”

Dean snapped his gaze to her father. “No, sir. Far from it. They tortured me and made her watch. I think she was afraid they’d kill me.”

“So you’re saying she’s weak.”

“I’m saying she’s stronger than I ever realized. She asked me, right before she walked out of the cell, what I’d do if we got separated.”

“So they kept you in the same cell?”

Dean looked at Burnett then he nodded. Prayed he didn’t betray anything other than an affirmation. And that Burnett wouldn’t ask what happened. Details of their torture.

“Go on.”

“She wanted to know if I’d find her. I said I would. That’s what she wanted—to know I’d die trying to find her. She’s buying time, I think.” Dean’s heart thumped, echoing in the machine rigged to the finger cuff. “We have to go after her. Stop them before they force her to hack the network.”

“So you know where she is, where they held you?”

The adrenaline bottomed out like a massive sinkhole beneath his desperation. “No.” His mind scrambled for purchase on this tricky ground. “But—those men dropped me off from the back of a truck. That means it had to be within driving distance of the base. Wherever they’re holding her, it can’t be far.” Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Whoa, Cap’n,” Hawk said. “I’m glad to see you, but there’s only so much I
want
to see.”

Gaping dressing gown. Dean stilled, testing his body. Searching for pain. Other than throbbing fingers and head … “I need clothes.”

“I think you need to hold up for the docs to clear you,” Falcon added.

“Then get them in here. She’s on her own, and those guys aren’t withholding any tactics to get what they want.”

“You sure she didn’t already break?”

“I think she broke, but not in the way I—or any of us—expected. She didn’t go crazy. She became more focused. More strategic.”

“That’s my girl.”

Dean eyed the beaming general. What would he do when he found out she’d been raped and beaten?

“We need to talk to cybersecurity guys. Find out how fast someone like Double Z can crack the code.” Legs spread shoulder-width apart, Hawk folded his arms over his chest.

Falcon nodded. “I’m thinking it won’t be long.”

Hawk rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “I mean, I could do it in a day or two, but she’s got that advanced degree, so …”

“They need to know there was a tamperproof box at the prison.” Dean eyed the team. Man, it was good to be back. Even if he was minus a hand and weak. “So she might’ve already made some progress.”

A uniformed doctor entered, glancing around, and hesitated.

“We’re on a timetable. Can’t afford to lose time.” Dean frowned. Looked at the guys. “How long have I been in here anyway?”

“Just a few hours.”

“Good.” Dean stayed there, his arm threaded to an IV and monitors still probing his vitals.

Hawk clapped a hand on the doc’s shoulder, pitching him forward. “Sign him out, Doc. We got lives to save!”

Sub-base Schwarzburg, Camp Marmal
Mazar-e Sharif, Balkh Province
30 July—0530 Hours

O
ne eye black and blue. The other morphing from purple to green and still swollen. His once-split lip patched with an angry red hue around the stitches. Right forearm in a short cast with three fingers casted as well, all dangling from a sling.

Watters stood at the table, staring at a map. The guy had run the gamut and returned changed. Not just the bloodied and broken body. He hoped the guy could get his head back in the game.

Lance joined him. Stared down the detailed map of the area, complete with known structures and hotbeds. “Anything familiar?”

With a sigh, Watters shook his head. “They didn’t take us far from the cell. She talked about going upstairs, but whether that was ground level or a second story, I couldn’t tell. They kept me down, out of sight. No windows save a high, narrow one.”

“What about walls?” An analyst sat opposite the table, fingers poised over the keyboard.

“Half stone, half cement. It felt damp and hot. Not scorching, but enough that we knew it was a scorcher outside.”

Russo joined them, knuckles on the table. “That’s just about every building in a fifty-mile radius.”

Watters huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“There’s gotta be something that stuck out.”

“No. They were deliberate about keeping us in the dark—literally. Except when they blinded us with light.” Watters traced the lines of the map. “I was taken out of the cell, down a hall and to the right where they beat me.”

“You keep saying
cells
.” Lieutenant Hastings emerged from the sidelines. “Was it really a cell, or just a room with a barred door?”

“I don’t know. Something with several rooms, but they’re all barred.”

“So, maybe a converted building.”

“Yeah … maybe.” Watters’s gaze bounced around the maps and possibilities, as if trying to recall something. “Zahrah said there was a big, open area upstairs—she called it a gaping hole.”

Hastings moved with purpose. “Since you went missing, we’ve been working round the clock on possible holding locations. There’s an old clothing factory here, and a school here.”

“Not a school. Layout’s wrong—not designed for flow.”

Russo thumped the spot where the factory had been marked. “So the clothing factory?”