Swift Strike (SEAL Team 14 Book 2) (18 page)

Hazel Eyes gave her another eerie smile before saying, “Do you know what type of weapons the company manufactured?”

“All I know is that my father had a group of engineers who were working on a project using plasma technology.”

“You are an engineer yourself by trade, are you not?”

“I am a
petroleum
engineer. I’m not an aerospace or a mechanical engineer. I don’t have any experience in building weaponry.”

“But you are familiar with what plasma technology is, correct?”

“Well, yes.”

“Enlighten me.”

Lena clenched her teeth so hard that her teeth nerve endings practically ached. “Plasma is a fourth state of matter. It is distinct from gas due to its high ionization of electrons. It allows for an energy rich, highly ionized state of gas to be harnessed.”

“To be harnessed for what exactly?” he encouraged her, nodding his head. “What type of weapons can be created?”

“Under the right conditions, plasma energy can be utilized for any number of things, but it is most commonly used in televisions to create high resolution screens. It can also be used to obtain the ignition needed in a sonic air stream for hypersonic missile impulsion.”

He nodded his head in silent accordance. “Were you aware that at the time of your father’s closing of his Corynx Seven laboratory in 2007, he was attempting to employ the plasma energy for a new weapon?”

“No. I told you, I had no knowledge of much of my father’s business operations. I’m most familiar with his laboratories and factories dealing with petroleum.”

“Your father wanted to create hypersonic, long-range missiles using plasma to be purchased by the U.S. government,” he droned on.

“I suppose that could be correct. Like I said, I was not privy to the details of any of his Corynx Seven projects. What does it matter anyway? That facility was completely shut down years ago.”

“Humor me for a minute, Ms. Westlake. Do you know how powerful a plasma hypersonic missile could be?”

“Not very. Plasma missiles are not built for power, they are built for speed. If someone wanted the most powerful missile that they could build, they would just load a nuclear warhead on it.”

“Yes, well, nuclear warheads are hard to come by these days.”

“Pity,” she said, rolling her eyes. If she thought that she could not have been more creeped out by this guy, she was wrong. This line of questioning from him was both disconcerting and just plain weird.

“If you were building a plasma missile, what would the benefits be?”

“From an engineering standpoint, the two major advantages would be stealth and speed.”

“Why stealth?”

“Hypersonic plasma missiles travel at rates in excess of five times the speed of sound. In order to travel at such high speeds, the fuel source for the projectile must be extremely light. The lightness of this missile allows for enhanced maneuverability, makes them well able to avoid missile interceptors that would destroy them, and allows them to abruptly change course if the target shifts from the original coordinate.”

A wide grin spread across Hazel Eyes’ face. “Exactly.”

“So are we done with this little quiz of yours? Can I leave now?”

“What if I were to tell you,” he said, ignoring her request, “that your father’s sonic missile program was never closed down. At least not completely.”

“I would say that you were a lying sack of shit.”

He chuckled, obviously pleased with himself. “I do appreciate your spirit, Ms. Westlake. It takes a certain type of backbone to remain defiant in the face of impossible odds. But I am not lying to you on this point. I could not have been more transparent or more truthful than that. But I’ll repeat myself. Your father never shut down Corynx Seven.”

“You’re wrong,” she said, becoming more annoyed by the second. “The laboratory was demolished after its sale.”

“Your father never closed down the weapons program that embodied Corynx Seven. Instead, he kept it open with the same engineers and scientists, but at a different location and under the radar from U.S. government surveillance and interference.”

“And why would he do that? Just what would he have to gain from losing his only client?”

“It is not a complicated answer, really. Your father was simply greedy. You see, he became voracious in his quest for wealth. So insatiable, in fact, that he came to the conclusion he could make more money off this type of weapon on the black market, as opposed to selling directly, and exclusively to the U.S. government. He could make well in excess of three hundred million dollars with that type of weapon. Well, that is if he found the right buyer. Do you know how much groups like ours and governments like the one in Yemen would pay to get their hands on a long-range supersonic missile that could avoid detection by traditional U.S. defense mechanisms? No. Your father was indeed a highly intelligent man, and he recognized that he had stumbled upon a gold mine.”

Shaking her head, Lena dismissed his outlandish allegations. “No. That is bullshit. It is just not possible. My father may not be the nicest man on the planet but he is still a decent human being.”
For the most part
, she added silently. “He would know what type of damage a weapon like that could do in the wrong hands. He would never betray the United States like that.”

Why should she believe Hazel Eyes? Why was she even listening to anything he said? This guy was a deranged, manipulative liar, who had kidnapped her twice and killed dozens of people in the process. His word was worth shit. Less than shit.

“Now you see that is just a point I will have to disagree with you on. Your father is no doubt a very smart man, but you of all people should know well by now that his first true love is money. But maybe these photographs will help persuade you that I’m not lying to you, Ms. Westlake.”

Reaching underneath the bed, he picked up a manila folder and plopped it down on her lap. When she hesitated opening it, he did it for her.

The folder contained six grainy, black and white photographs of a relatively nondescript warehouse. The time stamp showed photos were taken in March 2011. Lena was surprised to see her father’s face in the fifth photograph. He was walking into the building with a small group of men. Two of the men were dressed in traditional Arab dress. The four other men in the photograph were wearing regular business suits.

“These photographs don’t prove anything,” she shook her head in denial, all the while her heart was caving in. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Hazel Eyes or herself of her father’s innocence.

“In and of themselves, maybe not. But I have reliable information about what is going on behind the concrete walls of that facility. And it’s something that will make Alfred Westlake even wealthier than he already is at present. Your father has assembled a very impressive association of engineers and physicists to create a state of the art plasma missile. Turn to the last photograph in the packet,” he ordered her.

Reluctantly, Lena flipped to the last page. It depicted a large cylindrical shell, presumably to be used to create a missile. Several large canisters surrounded the object.

“For my group, our needs are not solely about money. We
require
that weapon.”

Lena didn’t have to ask him what AnSawar needed the weapon for, she already knew. An attack against the United States or its allies. The thought alone was enough to make her throw up. “Yeah, you need it to slaughter thousands of more innocent people.”

“Don’t talk to me about slaughter, Ms. Westlake. Do you have any idea how many ‘ragheads’ your government has killed?” She’d apparently struck a nerve because his face became a tight, drawn mask. The hands that’d been resting complacently in his lap a few seconds ago were now clenched into fists and poised to strike. The constant anger that remained bubbling beneath the surface seemed ready to spill out. As it were, he looked like he was fighting the urge to strangle her.

“But why would you care,” he continued, “when you characterize my people like they are less than human. You can only taunt the tiger so many times before he will strike back.”

“Even if what you’re saying about my father is true, and I’m not saying that it is true, what can I do about it? I sure as hell will not help you get your filthy hands on any kind of weapon.”

His eyes darkened then. Lena was still so perplexed about what he was asserting that she’d recklessly pushed him too far with her last insult. She was not prepared for the blow to her face. He hit her with an open hand, but all of his weight was behind it. If he had struck her with a closed fist, he would have cracked her jaw.

As it were, Lena’s head whipped around and slammed into the wall due to the sheer force of the blow. If she’d been standing up, she most likely would have fallen to the ground. Stars swam before her eyes as she cradled the side of her face that’d hit the wall in her palm. Her cheek burned and she could feel her lip already begin to swell.

“You disrespect me one more time, and you will regret it dearly, Ms. Westlake.”

Fighting against the sting of tears welling up in her eyes, Lena turned to face the monster beside her. “What do you want me to do?” she asked, trying not to gasp in pain as she forced the words out.

“All we want to do is make your father an offer for this new weapon. He is currently only entertaining bids from the Eastern European marketplace, and we just want to...how you say, open his mind to other possibilities. In order to do this, however, we need an in and you’re it.”

She regarded him with contempt, her eyes shooting sharp daggers his way.

“Don’t worry,” he continued, “what we need you to do is quite simple, really.”

“What is it?”

Hazel Eyes clearly felt that he had the upper hand now because he gave her a broad, toothy grin before replying, “We need you to have a conversation with your father.”

Yeah right. “And if I refuse?”

“I would strongly encourage your full cooperation in this matter, Ms. Westlake. If you fail to hold up your end of the bargain, it won’t just be you who will suffer. I will also have your mother, Claire, your brother, Philip, and his pretty little girlfriend, Amber, killed. And trust me, before I’m finished with them, they will all beg for death because it will be the only solace from the pain that they’ll receive.”

She stared at him, willing the tears that so desperately wanted to fall to remain unshed.

“There are even more prolonged ways that I can make you suffer,” he warned, a soft edge to his voice. “More intimate ways.” He reached out his hand and squeezed her upper thigh. Choking back an outraged sob, she recoiled away from him in disgust.

“Keep your hands off of me,” she shouted, anger and fear getting the best of her. “Keep away!”

“I’m trying to give you an opportunity here, Ms. Westlake.” Lena looked directly into his eyes then, and saw nothing in them except coldness and death. “I suggest that you take it,” he continued. “It’s the best deal that we are going to offer.”

Namibia, Africa

J
ESSE WAS GOING out of his mind with worry. Seventy-two hours. Three days. Lena had been missing for three whole days now. Anything could have happened to her in that length of time. She could have been beaten, tortured, raped…killed. All of these possibilities made his blood run cold. He just prayed that he would find her alive. He would give anything to find her alive.

Jesse had called in a million favors and indebted himself to about a half a dozen people in his quest to track her down. He was well aware that he was risking the job he loved on this search. Astoundingly, he didn’t give a damn.

Somehow, some way, in the short amount of time he’d known her, Lena Westlake had embedded herself squarely inside of his heart. He’d never felt this connected to someone before. When he thought about Lena, he wasn’t thinking about just getting laid, he was thinking about the future. A future with her in it. This palpable need to shield her from the dangers of the world shook him to his very core. So did the fact that he’d already managed fail her.

Jesse should have taken her concerns more seriously and the fact that he hadn’t ate away at him. He should have looked into AnSawar until he was one hundred percent certain that they no longer posed a threat to her. Instead, he had dismissed her concerns about the terror group coming after her again as just the product of her tattered nerves. He’d left her alone and unprotected. He should have been there for her and he hadn’t. He would never forgive himself for that critical lapse in judgment.

But now, all that he could do was use every tracking technique he had learned and utilize all the resources and contacts he had in order to find out where she’d been carted off to. He would leave no stone unturned. It would undoubtedly be the most important mission of his life.

Jesse started out his search at the most logical place: Lena’s home in Walvis Bay. He had met with her mother and brother at Lena’s house two days ago. The haunting look of anguish on her family members’ faces reflected his own internal turmoil. It was painful and infuriating to see the damage done to Lena’s home. Her mother confirmed that there was nothing of value missing—besides Lena. So much for the robbery theory.

Walking from room to room, he tried to retrace her footsteps. He could not even begin to imagine the terror she must have felt when she realized the men who’d kidnapped her earlier had returned for her. His gut clenched at the sight of the upended furniture, broken glass, and smashed sculptures. She had obviously put up one hell of a struggle, as evidenced by the level of destruction inside the home. The blood smears near the entrance had caused him to pause. His hands gripped the doorframe until his knuckles turned white. The undeniable truth that she had been hurt in the struggle gnawed away at him.

After examining the scene, Jesse spent the rest of his first day in Namibia speaking with the Walvis Bay police department and breaking through multiple levels of red tape. Given the relatively quick response to his questions, Jesse was sure that Commander Mark Dewitt had also contacted them.

The police department’s investigation had uncovered more than what Jesse anticipated at the outset. Apparently, a week prior to Lena’s abduction, she’d placed a phone call into
Salamon Security
to have her entrance gate repaired.

Jesse remembered discussing her request to have the gate taken care of the night he flew down to see her. The police surmised that she had opened her home willingly to a man who was driving a repair company issued van and wearing a company uniform. There would not have been any reason for her to suspect that anything was wrong. There was no way she could have figured out the deception until it was too late, until the man was already inside of her house.

Two miles from Lena’s home, the police had discovered the badly burned and decomposing body of a man in an open field. The perpetrator didn’t even bother to hide the body. The victim was so badly burned that making a visual, on-scene identification was impossible.

The only reason the police identified the man so soon was because of a surgical, titanium-plate implant in one of his legs. The police—aided by the Namibia National Police service unit that was on the ground in the area for an unrelated issue—made the identification by tracking the serial number on the plate.

If there had ever been an inkling of doubt in Jesse’s mind about whether or not Lena was the victim of a random burglary gone bad, it was now erased. No burglar would go through that much trouble to just steal home furnishings.

One way or another the perpetrator had learned that Lena was expecting a gate repair serviceman to arrive to her property during that week. Jesse wasn’t sure how the culprit was able to obtain this information, but there were a number of possibilities. Perhaps the man had intercepted her telephone calls and honed in on her service request. Or the perpetrator might have had an inside contact at the security company. The latter option was a lot riskier for all involved parties, so Lena’s phone had most likely been tapped.

Late yesterday evening, the stolen security van had mysteriously shown up outside of a hotel in Khorixas, Namibia. The town was only about a five hour drive from Walvis Bay. Initially, Jesse had been excited for the new bit of information. He’d quickly hopped in his rental car and made the trek up north.

Jesse’s search had soon come to a dead end, however. There were no security cameras located anywhere on the hotel’s property and the clerks did not remember seeing a woman matching Lena’s description or Lena’s hazel-eyed terrorist. The trail was growing colder by the minute.

“Jesse. How are you holding up, man?”

Sinking deeper down into the driver’s seat of the rental car, he leaned his back against the head rest, listening to his friend’s voice come in over his cell phone.

“How do you think?” he asked. Luke meant well and all, but Jesse did not feel like making small talk with anyone right now. The only reason he had even answered the phone was because he thought that maybe Luke was calling with some information that could help him in his search.

“Have you been getting any sleep?”

Casting a glance around the cabin of the car, and at the half dozen empty coffee cups littering the floor, the answer to Luke’s question was obvious. How could he sleep? He would not be able to rest until Lena was back in his arms, safe and sound. And he refused to let his mind dwell on the devastating possibility that he might not find her alive.

“Do you have any intel?” Jesse said, not caring that he was being rude to his best friend. Each excruciating minute that passed was another minute that Lena was in the clutches of murdering sociopaths. So unless Luke was contacting him to relay some critical information discovered about Lena’s abduction, he just did not have any time for it.

Luke ignored him. “CO is worried about you, says you’re on the warpath. Hell, even I’m worried about you, man. The police department said that you totally jacked up this old guy for information yesterday? Are you sure that your head is still screwed on tight? You’re risking a lot on this, man. A whole hell of a lot. I mean…I know you like this girl, but if you keep going at the rate you’re going, you’ll be risking your whole career.”

Luke was referring to an incident that occurred when Jesse was running down what had turned out to be another false lead. After talking to the clerks at the hotel where the stolen van turned up, Jesse did a canvas of the area. During the canvas, he had encountered a man who swore up and down that he’d seen a woman matching Lena’s description being dragged into a beat-up sedan. The man had gone so far as to give him the license plate number that Jesse had tracked down to a ramshackle apartment building in the heart of the city.

He had tried hard not to get his hopes up that she was actually there. But it was impossible to do—to not hope. Once he got to the apartment he’d politely asked the occupants of the apartment if they’d seen Lena there. The guy he was questioning had told him not so politely to fuck off. So Jesse decided to tune him up a bit.

“I have everything under control, Luke.”
Yeah right
. He was about as far from being in control as he could be right now. “But I have to go, there are some additional leads I need to check before the sun goes down and—”

“Hold on. Wait a minute. There’s something I need to tell you. You will probably be getting a call about this from CO Dewitt in a few minutes anyway. There’s a possibility AnSawar is in the marketplace for a dirty bomb or a long-range missile. Possibly both.”

“Okay...so what?” Jesse wasn’t shocked about this new detail. Most terror groups were actively shopping around for weapons of mass destruction. It was surely a problem, but not the most pressing issue that Jesse had at the moment. The most pressing issue that he had right now was getting Lena back into his arms.

“The CIA believes that the initial siege on WG Oil, the recent attacks in Bayla, and now Lena’s kidnapping may all be connected.”

“All right, but how are those attacks connected to Lena?”

“You remember the woman who was shot and killed by Abbas and company?”

“Hard to forget that.”

“Yeah, well as it turns out, this woman, identified as Margaret Opunga, was the former Chief Operating Officer for Corynx Seven. After she left Corynx Seven, she took a similar position at another small weapons retailer in Somalia.”

“What the hell is Corynx Seven?”

“Good question. It was a private munitions laboratory that was owned in part by Lena’s father. I say was because a few years ago, he closed down all operations at the company.”

“What did the lab make?”

“The facility’s operations were broken into two sectors. The first division focused on the usual fare: high powered rifles, grenade launchers, and torpedoes for surface destroyers. The experimental division, however, was a bit more exotic. It focused on harnessing new technologies to create highly destructive and versatile bombs and missiles. At the time of the facility’s closing, Lena’s father was dabbling in using plasma technology to create high speed missiles for the U.S. government.”

“Why did they close?”

“The official statement was that the technology needed to create the missiles was too costly for the laboratory to produce at the time. They cited unwieldy operation expenses as the primary reason for the closure.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me.”

“I won’t argue with you there. And we all know your internal bullshit detection meter is pretty damn accurate.”

“CIA have any information on why Opunga was taken out?”

“It’s still a little murky right now. They’re working on getting some solid information.”

“Okay. So you’re essentially saying that AnSawar kidnapped Lena again because of this weapons laboratory and potentially because of this new missile technology that they were creating, right?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“So AnSawar re-captured Lena again. Now what? What’s their end game here?”

“I’m not sure. Leverage, maybe?”

Jesse nearly rejected the idea out of hand. “Lena and her father don’t exactly have the best relationship. From what Lena has told me about the man and his actions, he cares more about protecting his bank account than he does about her safety.”

“Yeah, but it is possible that AnSawar doesn’t realize this yet.”

“I don’t know, man. The fact that Alfred Westlake didn’t pay a drop of the previous ransom would, for most groups, be a pretty big clue.”

“There’s one more thing,” Luke said in a rush, as if he’d nearly forgotten a key motivator for his call. “Hawk was able to track down a property deed to a building in Baidoa, Somalia belonging to Westlake.”

“What’s so special about the building?”

“On the surface, it looks like an abandoned warehouse, nothing out of the ordinary. Except if you dig a bit deeper into the history of purchase, you’ll find that it was bought by a shell company that Alfred Westlake created about two months after he closed down Corynx Seven. There’s no paper trail indicating what the building is being used for.”

Jesse filled in the blanks pretty quickly. “Wait, you think that they’ve brought Lena
back
to Somalia? To try and extort Lena’s father for whatever he’s cooking inside that building?”

“Not sure. But the ghosts on the ground are saying that there’s recently been a flurry of movement around that location.”

“So she could be there?” Jesse said, feeling the first real twinges of hope that he would find Lena alive.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, man. It’s probably a long shot. But it’s a possibility.”

That’s all Jesse needed to hear. Grabbing a scrap piece of paper and pencil that was in the glove compartment, he asked, “What’s the address?”

Luke rambled off the location and then added, “One more thing, if you do find her there and you’re caught in a tight spot, CO wants you to know that there’s a CIA safe house in the area. We’ll be there when we can. Kick ass, brother.”

Jesse certainly planned to.