Читать книгу Fight Fire With Fire - Amy J. Fetzer - Страница 7

6°21´ N, 134°28´E,

Sonsoral Islands, Philippine Sea

The barrier islands scattered like strings of torn white lace mixed with plots of lush green. This one looked like a Chia Pet growing in the middle of the ocean, Riley thought. Storms had eroded the shore till there was little more than a small stretch of beach maybe seventy-five yards wide, but it dropped off into deep water. The rubber motorboat floated on the outer rim of the reef, and with his hand on the rudder, he idled as he watched the men emerge on shore. At high tide, they could swim over the jagged reef and while Jim Clatt wanted to go alone, Riley was on board the research ship to make sure the boatload of geeks didn’t do anything stupid.

It was a surprisingly easy job.

Walking alongside Jim was his twenty-year-old research assistant, Derek. The kid was having a blast sailing on the high seas before his senior year and facing the real world. When the pair turned to wave, Riley tapped his dive watch as a reminder. One hour and the tides would rapidly change. The rip current wasn’t too bad, but getting across the barrier reef would be nearly impossible until high tide. He didn’t think the bone diggers wanted to be stuck there all night. He heeled the rubber boat around on a swell of white water and headed back to the research ship.

Two hundred miles east of the Philippines and about a hundred south of Palau, the islands were small, mostly uninhabited, a couple acres at best, and during the rainy season, they were a few feet underwater. Riley didn’t know what the pair thought they’d find, but he doubted much of anything could have survived the last round of typhoons.

Cabin fever, he figured. They needed to be on land. Riley knew if he set foot on solid ground, it would take him another day to regain his sea legs again. He’d rather skip shoving his face in the commode any day. At Derek’s age, it was the reason he’d joined the Marines and not the Navy. Years ago and too old to look back, he thought as he steered the boat alongside the 180-foot white research vessel.

From the deck of The Traveler , a technician waved acknowledgment, then swung the rail gate aside. After he secured the rubber boat, Riley slung a small duffle across his body, then climbed the steel ladder forged into the hull of the ship. He stepped through the opened gate in time to see his older sister give orders, her Irish accent a wee heavier. It seemed to charm the lads. He wasn’t fooled. Of his four sisters, she was the tyrant of the lot.

Yet he smiled just the same. Bridget was in her glory. A marine biologist with her doctorate in marine archaeology, she was the head of an expedition to gather data on the effects of the 2006 tsunami on the Pacific marine life. Her fully funded gig came with equipment, technicians, a botanist, an archaeologist, a climatologist, and a ship’s staff. Partnered with her was his brother-in-law, Travis McFadden, an oceanographer. The man smiled an awful lot for someone who stared at weather patterns most of the time, but Trav and his sister had raised three boys, all in college, and from the looks of them lately, they were reviving their twenty-three-year-old marriage like honeymooners. Best not go there, he thought and looked back toward the shore.

Because of the depth, the ship was anchored a quarter mile from the reef. Standing at the prow out of the way of activity, he unzipped his waterproof duffle and drew out binoculars, sighting in on the two men. The pair was still inspecting the shore of sea-battered coral less than ten yards deep. A storm had raged across this area only two days ago, what did they think was left?

He followed them as they strolled toward a towering rock formation half shrouded in palms and betel nut trees and he didn’t lower the glasses until they walked into the forest. Their steps were awkwardly high over the untouched vegetation as Jim swung a machete.

Then they were gone, swallowed into the darkness.

Jim Clatt liked that he was probably the first person to be here in centuries. He felt like the only person in the world. Derek was fortunately a quiet young man, his music tastes not withstanding. Jim brushed at the rocks, sweeping powdery white sand and dirt, smiling when the fossil emerged.

Then just as quickly, Jim felt a ripple of unease move down his spine that wasn’t there a moment ago. Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the fossilized snail. The air was suddenly very still. He glanced back toward the ship, yet through the dense foliage, he could see only splashes of white shore and blues skies.

“Derek?”

When he didn’t respond, Jim looked to his right. A few yards away, the young man was frozen, staring into the forest.

He didn’t look at Jim as he said, “There’s something in there.”

“Impossible. Monsoons would drown anything out.”

But he knew Derek was right. He could almost smell it.

Sweat pearled on Jim’s temples and the base of his throat, rivering with gravity into his tank shirt. He let go of the brush he’d been using and slowly reached for the spade. He felt a measure of relief when his hand closed around the handle. It was short and folding, but heavy. His gaze darted to the undergrowth, then the tops of the wildly twisting trees. No animals in sight. Not even a bird.

Then what was out there?

Paranoid, he touched the waterproof walkie-talkie Riley insisted he take along. He hooked it on his waistband, then shifted back on his haunches, his gaze flicking over the darkness. This was the only clearing on the island they’d found. The rest was dense and too thick to even move through without chopping away half the jungle.

He heard something dart to his left, barely a whisper of sound and he flinched. Yet nothing moved. Not a single leaf. But he’d heard it. Creeped out, he felt like he was in a slasher movie and blindly he shoved his belongings into his waterproof bag, taking the fossil rock. He glimpsed at Derek. His student was moving forward on his hands and knees.

“Derek no,” Jim whispered hotly.

“There’s an animal in there, Dr. Clatt. I saw something.”

Jim frowned and eased toward him, the shovel primed. He watched the forest, then whispered Derek’s name and shoved the machete across the rocks and sand. Derek tilted to reach it, then held it like a baseball bat. He inched forward, and with the curiosity of youth and lacking all caution, he stood. He took a step.

Jim rose slowly. “What did you see?”

“Just movement, might be a lizard.” He swiped the machete, clearing away nearly five feet of brush.

Jim stepped slightly away from Derek and advanced, pushing fronds aside. He drew the flashlight and flicked it on, focusing the beam into the darkest area. Derek’s steps crunched on the dry, dead fronds and they stilled.

“I think we need to leave.”

“Why?” Derek asked.

“If there is anything alive in here, it’s never been in contact with humans.”

“But what could be here? Dr. Bridget said the islands didn’t even have monkeys or iguanas.”

“Regardless, we’re here and the good doctor is not.”

Movement shot to the far left, this time stirring leaves. For an instant, Jim thought someone fired an arrow, the beam of movement was so fast and straight. He met Derek’s gaze, but damn if the kid wasn’t beaming.

“New species?”

“I doubt it and get that look off your face, we’re not investigating.” Jim reached for the walkie-talkie. “Back away.”

Derek obeyed, thank God. Jim grabbed the waterproof sack and slung the strap over his head, the small shovel still primed to strike.

Derek inhaled. “It’s close.”

“I know.” Jim felt the presence, indistinguishable but definitely there. “Keep moving, but go slow.” He couldn’t take his gaze off the jungle.

Then between the fronds and branches, nearly blending into the foliage, he saw it.

One golden-brown eye stared back at him.

Riley watched his sister approach, smiling. In her forties, she had the beam of a good life radiating from her, and he wished he knew her secret. Her passion about her work eluded Riley. He was a little jaded now, he got that, but while one mission nearly killed him, another nasty mess had the CIA kissing ass any way they could. It left Dragon One not only debt free, but at their disposal. Riley wasn’t keen on that. He trusted very few and the Company wasn’t even in the running. From his experience, they lacked a decent moral center.

As she neared, Bridget pulled her frayed slouch hat low. It was one of his old desert booney covers from his tour in the Marines. She was never without it considering she had the hair and skin of a true Irish lass. Fair and freckled. Even a tube of sunscreen hung from a belt loop on her shorts.

“Thanks for humoring them,” she said, inclining her head toward the island.

“It gives me a break from that heavy metal noise Derek is so fond of.”

She rolled her eyes. “Try living with that every day.”

She was referring to his nephews who enjoyed head banging music. It just gave Riley a headache. “You really don’t need me here, Bri.” After two weeks, he was little more than an extra pair of hands.

She glanced, blue eyes soft with concern. “Getting antsy?”

“Not really, but security on a research ship?”

“I wanted you near me, Riley. I missed you.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and he swept his arm around her waist. With four sisters, she’d practically raised him, letting him tag along as a kid. He’d probably be dead on the streets of Belfast if it wasn’t for her, but he knew this went deeper. It had taken him two years to recover from a mission that put him in a coma along with several broken bones and a gunshot to the chest that barely missed his heart and lungs. According to his buddies, he’d drowned, but he barely remembered any of it.

“Your job attracts the wrong sort of people. Why do you insist on chasing such danger—” She stopped herself, let out a breath, then said, “I worry…we all do. I thought this might be a nice break.”

And show him a different life, he thought. He was wise to his sister. “You’re hoping I won’t go back to Dragon One? It’s my job. I can’t freeload off you forever.”

She cocked her head, a hand on her hip. “Do you know what an electrician makes in the states?”

“Yes I do, but installing lights isn’t as rewarding. Besides, I’ve been on a couple missions since then.”

“I know,” she snapped, then softened. “I know. But I keep seeing you in the hospital in traction, machines helping you breathe, tubes running everywhere. You’re lucky to be alive and I thank Logan for that. A doctor on sight saved you.”

He knew he owed Sam and Logan more than he could repay. “But I’ve got better equipment now.” He bent his knee, the surgical scars still plump against his tanned skin, but beneath the stitches were hydrogel kneecaps and titanium rods that replaced shattered bones. “Want to arm wrestle?” He flexed one bicep like Arnold.

She elbowed him. “Don’t tease. It was hard on us all.”

He squeezed her, pressing his lips to her temple. It was the first time she’d really spoken about it. “I’m sorry.” His family was close knit, and yet he was only just learning the effect his injuries had taken on the Donovan clan. His teammates were just as coddling. He put up with it because he wasn’t in any hurry to return to work and focused his attention on more leisurely activities these days.

“I’ll say this once—”

“Once? Since when?”

She crossed her eyes and made a face, then sobered, facing him. “Don’t take so many risks with your life…and I never thought I’d say this, but shoot first.”

He chuckled to himself. “Now there’s me Belfast girl.” She laughed, then her assistant called to her, and she moved away.

Riley checked his watch, waiting for signs of Jim and Derek. Then he heard his name and turned.

“You have a call.” Bridget clutched his satellite phone.

Riley tensed. No one but the team knew he was here.

“I was hoping there were no SATs in range for that to be of any use.” It wasn’t like this part of the world was a threat to humanity. There wasn’t anyone else around for nearly a thousand miles.

“Kate said it’s rung four times in the last hour.”

That can’t be good. Frowning, he took the phone, holding it to his chest. “Is it a female?”

“No, me handsome boy.” She patted his face. “It’s not.”

“Then you should have hung up.”

“Who left it turned on?” she said, already turning away and waving over her head.

He put the phone to his ear. “Riley Donovan isn’t available for at least another three weeks.”

“Really? Is she blond or brunette?”

Riley smiled.

“Neither,” he said to Sam. “A redhead, and we’re related. Don’t go there.”

Sam chuckled, then said, “Had enough sun and sea? Ready for work?”

“Not especially.” But he admitted he was bored silly.

“We have a hand me down job.”

Instantly Riley’s radar went up. “Whose?”

“The State Department, more specifically, the Bureau of Diplomatic Security.”

The law enforcement agency charged with the security of diplomats and just about anyone traveling abroad on State Department business, DS agents were assigned to a hundred-fifty-some foreign offices around the world. They used their diplomatic connections and with in-country police and Interpol, tracked and apprehended international fugitives who posed a threat to U.S. national security and dignitaries.

A heavy hitter, whoever they wanted to retrieve. After Venezuela, did the team really want to do anything remotely connected to government intelligence work again? One thing he knew for certain…“You’re two stepping, Sam, and I’m wondering what’s so bad that you can’t spit it out.”

He heard him sigh through the phone. “It’s Vaghn.”

For a moment, his muscles locked. The name burst with memories he wanted to forget. He turned away from the crew working around the mini sub he’d repaired only yesterday. “He fled the country, didn’t he?”

“Quite easily, from what we can tell.”

Well, he couldn’t say he didn’t warn them. “So why don’t the DS just go get him?”

“It’s a little trickier than that. You need to hear it all first, but it’s your call, partner.”

At least it wasn’t CIA clean up. But the DS weren’t slackers. They knew about his ties to Vaghn before they contacted D1. That meant someone was doing him a favor and he needed to know who.

“I’m about six hundred miles out in the middle of the South Pacific. It’ll take a day to get to land with an airport.”

“Got it covered. Tessa is coming by seaplane. She should be in your sights in a couple hours.”

He looked at the horizon, cloudless and blue. He didn’t ask for details, wanting to take this contract through a filter. He ended the call and tapped the satellite phone against his thigh, remembering the trial; Vaghn smiling when he was sentenced to five years minimum security. He’d planted his fist in the man’s face about a minute later. But beating him wouldn’t make Vaghn care. Vaghn was soulless, bloody arrogant and unfortunately—a brilliant weapons designer. The combination created a lethal genius with the attitude of a psychopath.

Vaghn testified that he’d released the pair of newly designed rifles for field-testing after they were given the required controlled tests. Evidence said he had, but only twice before the weapon was in the hands of Riley’s team. Two of his troops had paid with their lives when the misfired laser weapon struck across their faces, severing their heads at an angle. It was the worst accident he’d ever witnessed. That his friends, his Marines, had died because of Vaghn’s arrogant carelessness and sloppy miscalculations, put him on Riley’s needs-to-die list for a long time. He was off radar till now.

He felt suddenly anxious to get on dry land.

Travis came out of the pilothouse and hurried down the steep metal staircase to the first deck. He held a hand radio. “Riley, something’s wrong.”

Immediately Riley grabbed his binoculars and focused on the shore. There was no sign of Jim and Derek. As Travis neared, he heard the transmission.

Hard breathing came with, “ Can you hear me?…the shore…hurry!”

Riley grabbed his duffle and ran to the rail. Travis followed.

“No, Trav, let Riley handle it,” Bridget shouted, rushing to the rail. But her husband simply blew her a kiss as he went over the side.

A scream came through the radio, cut short, but he was already priming the motor, frustration mounting as he yanked the pull cord once, twice. The engine roared, water swelled around the propellers and as soon as Travis was seated, he gunned it.

“We’ll never make it over the reef,” Travis shouted. He kept the radio to his ear, transmitting they were coming. There was no response.

“We don’t have time to go around.” Leaving the boat and hoofing it wouldn’t help them now.

Riley pushed the throttle down, the rubber craft bouncing over the water toward the reef. He glanced back to the ship, judging the push of his wake, and when white water swelled beneath the lightweight boat, he gunned the engine. The boat sailed over the razor sharp reef to the tidal basin. Riley kept going, rushed the boat onto shore and cut the engine. He climbed out. Travis started to follow.

“Take it back out into the lagoon, keep it running. No telling what spooked them.”

“I’m betting it’s lizards, the weenies.” Though his expression said otherwise as Travis immediately moved into Riley’s position, then tossed him the radio.

Riley grabbed his Glock from the duffle and followed the footprints from the water’s edge. A few yards in, he was at the edge of the jungle.

Nothing moved. The walkie-talkie remained silent.

Riley went left to the jagged rock extending over the shore where they’d first entered the forest. Footprints confirmed it, and he followed them into the darkness, pausing to let his eyes adjust before advancing. The ground was soft beneath his dive boots, a mossy wet odor stirring with each step. And something else he couldn’t put a finger on, but it was rank. About thirty yards in, he came to a small shadowy clearing. They’d been digging here, he realized, but no tools, no struggle. No men.

A rustle made him duck near a tree. Then he saw a figure plowing through the foliage, but couldn’t tell who it was. Riley called out seconds before Jim burst through the darkness, tripped, then regained his footing.

“Riley! Go back, don’t stay!” he said, pushing him, then glanced behind himself. Derek came running full force and Jim caught him, both winded and not wasting a moment to get to shore. “Come on!”

But Riley wasn’t easily spooked and watched the forest, backing away slowly till daylight touched his back. He turned, maneuvering around the rocks to shore.

Whatever scared the two men sent them splashing into the water. Travis motored near, but Riley could tell Jim was having trouble. Riley dove into the water, swimming furiously. He grabbed Jim, pushed him to the boat, then reached for Derek. He shoved his ass up and in, then treading water, he watched the shore. The jungle beyond came alive. From the trees to the ground, it rustled.

Three heartbeats later, it stopped, only the breeze pushing leaves. Something survived the last major storm, he thought, then waved to Travis. He skidded closer and Riley grabbed the ropes and rolled smoothly into the craft. He pointed down the long stretch of lagoon. “We have to go around it.”

Travis headed out of the basin. Jim and Derek lay face down in the bottom of the boat, breathing hard, neither talking. Riley exchanged a look with Travis, then leaned forward to roll Jim on his back.

“Oh, Christ on a cross,” Travis said, releasing the throttle.

There were two bloody slashes across the left side of Jim’s neck.

48 hours earlier, Singapore

With the package tucked under his arm, he watched the deliveryman return down the hall to the staircase, then closed and locked the door. Walking back to the table, he picked up the phone.

“What the hell are you doing?” the voice on the line snapped. “We’ll miss the window!”

“Hardly.” He checked his watch. “Do it now.”

A few seconds passed, then, “It’s done, Jesus, if anyone finds—”

“They won’t. I’m smarter than you, remember.”

“Christ, you’re a bastard.”

“My parents would agree, I’m sure.”

He ended the call and tore open the wrapping, smiling at the paperback novel. At the table, he sat and opened his Yahoo account. There were five spam messages, subject line, Viagra. Figures. The world was one big dick, he thought as he checked the date and time of each. He clicked on one, opening it. The single row of letters and numbers marked it as spam. On a pad, he jotted down the sequence, deleted them all, then opened the book and found the page he needed.

He’d been warned to expect a way out. He thought he’d had that in a non-extradition country. Or any other one with the least friendly diplomatic ties to the U.S. of A. But the perfect opportunity would never arrive.

Waiting longer put his life in greater danger. They were watching him. He knew that a week ago. He didn’t know how many, but felt them. Whether they were friend or foe, it didn’t matter. His new employer would keep his word. He’d wanted his skills enough to offer ten million American. Half that was already in his Swiss account as a show of good faith.

Yeah, he could risk it.

His own calm surprised him, and he wondered if he really thought that five million in the bank would protect him. Because that’s about all the backup he had. Moving to the table, he shut down the laptop, popped out the flash drive, then pocketed it safely in the seam of his jacket. Insurance was always near. He carefully replaced his equipment in the cases, then methodically arranged them in the satchel. More was required of him. Rich beyond his imagination meant now he had to earn it.

By betraying his country a little more than he did the last time.