Читать книгу Navy SEAL Noel - Liz Johnson - Страница 10
ОглавлениеPetty Officer Will Gumble could have gone his whole life without seeing Captain Sean McCoy again.
In fact, he’d been counting on it.
But he wasn’t about to risk ignoring a summons from the brand-new executive officer of the Naval Amphibious Base Coronado. Even if it was worded as a request and asked for a meeting at The Cue, a pool bar well off the base and away from the regular SEAL watering holes.
Will tugged on the sleeves of his civilian jacket and took a deep breath before jerking the door open. Noise and the vapour of electronic cigarettes surrounded him as he stepped inside, scanning the hazy room for threats, exits and friends. In that order.
Two guys next to the pool table by the wall pushed each other, knocking a row of empty glasses onto the green felt. They’d had too much to drink, but weren’t worth a second look. A girl who didn’t look old enough to even be in the bar leaned against the jukebox and flirted with the gray-haired man beside her. She looked up and caught Will’s eye. Hers brightened, a slow smile forming on too-red lips.
Will looked away fast.
The last thing he needed was a girl latching onto him in front of his new XO.
He slipped between two tables, pushing toward the back of the room, finishing his survey. The place wasn’t particularly crowded, given the weekday night, but the green and blue neon lights made faces almost unrecognizable.
What if he couldn’t identify the captain? He hadn’t seen him in more than ten years, and McCoy had been none too happy on that occasion. In fact, the last time they’d met, McCoy had been downright red in the face to see his little girl sneaking into the house at zero dark hundred. Will hadn’t exactly meant to drop Jess off so late, but he’d been a reckless kid, cocky and assured. And when the old navy man had clamped a hand on his shoulder and stared hard at him, Will had nearly buckled. Would he be able to recognize McCoy without the searing anger and disapproval in the older man’s expression—or would both still be there, even after all these years?
When he reached the last booth in the farthest corner, all concern about recognizing Jess’s dad vanished in an instant. Captain McCoy hadn’t aged much. Still broad, with an angular jaw, and barely a wrinkle around his narrow eyes. He kept his black hair in a traditional military cut, and in the light any hint of gray was indistinguishable. But there was something different about him. McCoy, who had always stood so proudly, slumped in the vinyl booth, head bowed over a half-empty glass. He seemed intent on examining the surface of the table, but his mind was clearly engaged elsewhere.
Will walked over and waited for the other man to acknowledge him. When McCoy glanced up, his eyes turned into slits, a frown firmly in place. “I don’t need anything.”
Maybe Will was the one who had changed.
Ten years, thirty pounds and a SEAL Trident pin would do that to a man.
Or maybe it was just the haze hanging over the room.
“Captain McCoy?” Will kept his words short, in case he reverted back to that eighteen-year-old kid whose voice had had a habit of cracking under pressure.
McCoy squinted harder before jumping out of the booth to assess him more closely. After a long pause, he said, “William?”
“Yes, sir.” He held out his hand, expecting a shake, but McCoy clapped him on the back, nearly hugging him.
“It’s good to see you, son. I almost didn’t recognize you out of uniform.” Not the reaction Will had been expecting, but it was a far cry better than the alternative. McCoy motioned to the table and slid back into the booth. Will sat down opposite him. “How are your parents? Still living in the area?”
“They’re fine, sir. Dad just retired, and they moved closer to the beach so he can surf more.”
The captain chuckled silently, his shoulders bobbing and a few wrinkles forming on either side of his mouth. But the humor never reached his eyes, which were pained. He wrapped his hands around his glass of soda and gazed into the dark brown liquid.
Will opened his mouth to ask about Jess, but snapped it closed before the words could pop out. He had no right to ask how she was doing or what she’d done in the past decade. Not even if she’d ever gotten married, settled down, had a family.
The pain wasn’t as acute as it had been at first, but the idea of his childhood best friend married to someone else still hit him like a punch in the stomach. At least he knew she hadn’t married his brother, Salvador. That’s why they’d stopped talking—because Jess had said she was thinking about accepting Sal’s promise ring. And because Will had decided that ignoring her phone calls was the best way to deal with the pain those words had caused.
Well, that and because he’d done the only thing he could think of to get away from having to watch Jess marry his older brother. He’d joined the navy, shipped out for parts unknown and made no effort to keep in touch. He only knew that she hadn’t married Sal—hadn’t even accepted his ring and had broken Sal’s heart in the process. His mom had told him that much.
Will didn’t have any right to ask how Jess was doing, so he canned the small talk and asked the important question.
“You wanted to meet me, sir. What can I do for you?”
McCoy released a breath that deflated his shoulders, the dim light in his eyes vanishing altogether. He glanced toward the front door before clearing his throat. “I need your help.”
“Yes, sir.” Will bit his tongue to keep from asking why the captain hadn’t asked for this meeting to take place in his office on Coronado.
Turning his glass in endless circles, the older man stared hard at the bouncing ice cubes. The seconds ticked by as the ambient noise built around them, a group singing their hearts out by the jukebox leading the charge.
“I need this conversation to stay off the record.”
Will leaned forward, his elbows spread and arms resting on the sticky tabletop. “All right.”
“You’re under no obligation to agree to what I’m about to ask you to do.” Will nodded, but McCoy continued as though he hadn’t noticed. “If this goes badly, it could cost me my commission and you your place on the teams.”
Will swallowed a lump that had lodged somewhere below his Adam’s apple. This was his chance to walk away. McCoy was giving him an out before he knew too much. If he stuck around, he’d be privy to information that was bound to get them both in trouble.
But he hadn’t been summoned by chance. None of the other men on his boat crew had been invited. McCoy had called him specifically.
If the tingling of his spine was any indication, it had everything to do with their past acquaintance.
“Something happened to Jess.” It wasn’t a question, and as the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, his stomach rolled. His Jess. His best friend from junior high to graduation. If she needed him, she was in trouble, and the situation was worse than he could imagine. Batting down the accompanying nausea, he squinted across the table. “Tell me everything.”
Jabbing his fingers through his hair, McCoy let out a slow breath. “Jessalynn is working on her PhD in bioengineering and had a grant to study an airborne pathogen at Southern California State University.”
Will let out a low whistle, the sound involuntary and ill equipped to convey how impressive he found her achievements.
“Three days ago she was working late in the lab. The security alarm went off about oh one hundred, and when the guard arrived, the lab had been ransacked. Jess and her bioweapon had vanished.”
Fire shot through Will’s forehead and he covered his face with his hands, praying this was some sort of sick joke. But the XO sat in equally stunned silence, as if this was the first time he’d spoken the truth aloud.
Massaging his temples, Will growled low in the back of his throat. “Who took her?”
“The DEA thinks that it’s a Panamanian drug cartel.”
“And they want what?”
McCoy’s face crumpled in silent agony. Just seeing it made Will’s chest hurt, and he clawed at his T-shirt, searching for air, the smell of alcohol and perfume catching in his throat. He could picture Jess’s bright grin and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. But he could not picture her in Panama, fear etching her facial features until they were unrecognizable.
This was a hoax. Someone was playing a cruel joke.
His Jess couldn’t be at the hands of some drug cartel. She was safe and sound. And probably long-ago married to someone who actually deserved her.
Except the tortured voice of a father unable to save his only child wasn’t easily conjured. It carried with it the pain of broken hearts and lost dreams.
Sean McCoy wasn’t tricking him. He was a man in need of help.
Will closed his eyes, pursed his lips until they almost touched the tip of his nose and released a pent-up breath. “Let me guess. They want to use the pathogen and need someone to release it for them.”
“A friend at the DEA says there’s a bitter land war going on down there between two cartels. Bringing in a biological weapon seems very in character. Unfortunately, since they’re only attacking each other rather than targeting civilians, the DEA isn’t interested in getting involved, as long as it’s not crossing over our borders.”
“Doesn’t kidnapping an American count as crossing our borders?”
He shook his head. “They can’t definitively prove who was behind the abduction. And they’re about as eager to poke around drug cartels as a mouse would be to wake a snoring bobcat.”
“What about the government? Why don’t they send a team down to extract her?”
McCoy closed his eyes. “There’s not enough intel to know exactly where she’s been taken. They’re searching all of Panama right now, but the jungle is dense, and it could be weeks before they have enough info to send in an extraction team.”
The captain’s unspoken words hung between them. Jess didn’t have weeks to spare.
With folded hands pressed to his wrinkled forehead, Will pinched his eyes closed. Someone had to go after Jess. She wouldn’t survive for long after the cartel got what they wanted. Once she’d served her purpose, they would have no need for her.
His middle clenched, as if he was preparing for a blow from an opponent in the boxing ring. The truth hit harder than any fist.
The cartel would dispose of her. Soon.
He’d always thought he’d have a chance to end their decade of silence. And a bunch of drug-slinging bioterrorists weren’t going to take that chance from him. He owed her an apology, and he would make sure he had a chance to deliver it.
Pressing flat hands to the tabletop, he gazed into McCoy’s haunted eyes across the table. “What is it you want me to do?”
Another sigh. Another droop to the wide shoulders. “The United States Navy has no official jurisdiction in this situation. Officially, they have no information about it and absolutely no plans for a rescue attempt.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Bushy eyebrows pulled together, and a flicker of something akin to hope appeared in the captain’s hazel eyes, so much like his daughter’s.
“Yes, sir. I’m going to need approval for a short leave of absence.”
For the first time that evening, the corner of McCoy’s mouth quirked upward in a true smile. “Done.”
“I’ll be out of touch. Completely.” He stared hard at the older man, wishing he could come right out and tell the tough truth. But now that Will had agreed, McCoy needed to set up some plausible deniability. The captain couldn’t know the details. If a superior officer started asking questions, he’d have to tell the truth. No details meant no lies.
The XO hadn’t asked Will to do anything. No orders. Not even a suggestion. Just a conversation in a seedy bar far from the base and further from their norm. No one would recognize them enough to pinpoint that this was the night their lives changed.
But they were about to.
“I understand,” McCoy said.
Eager tension built in his legs, and Will nodded toward the door. “I’d better get going.” He slid across the bench and zipped his jacket as he rose.
The captain followed his movements, trailing him between the pool tables and into the starlit parking lot. Gusts of fresh air were like a lifeboat to a man who didn’t know he was drowning. The sweet scent of the breeze wrapped around him, and he took deep breaths through his nose until his mind was clear of everything but the mission ahead of him.
“Thank you.” The older man’s voice was lower, more gravelly.
Will nodded, but didn’t directly respond. Instead he said, “Please let her husband know that I’ll do everything I can.”
McCoy shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans and cocked his head to the side, his ear almost to his shoulder. “Her husband?”
His palms suddenly sweaty, Will rubbed them against his pants. Was McCoy just pulling his leg or was it possible that she’d never settled down? Jess marrying someone—anyone—else had been the reason for ten years of silence. Was it possible she’d never gotten married at all?
The questions running through his mind must have been broadcast on his face because the captain let out a low chuckle. “Oh, Jess quit dating about the time you disappeared.”
Will nodded, confusion mixing with an unnamed emotion in his chest and leaving him speechless.
“She said she’d rather focus on her education. I tried to talk to her about it, but she didn’t have much to say on the matter. I wish like fire that her mother had been around for that. She’d have known what to say. Instead I bumbled through, and Jessalynn told me not to worry about it, so I let it go.”
The words tumbled around Will’s mind as he tried to make sense of them. Finally, they reemerged as a question as smooth as sandpaper. “Then Jess is—she’s not—she’s never gotten married?”
“No. She’s not married.” The captain offered a fraction of a grin. Maybe it was just a twitch, but it sure looked like more. Like an invitation to be a man instead of running like the boy he’d been all those years before.
McCoy clapped him on the back before striding toward his car. Halfway there, he spun around with a loose shrug of one shoulder. “Try not to start a war, son.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll try.”
But no promises. If it took a war to save Jess, he’d start and end it.
* * *
When three sharp cracks broke the air on the opposite side of the lush courtyard, Jessalynn McCoy fell to the lawn, dropping the box she’d been carrying and covering her head with both hands.
“Up! Up!” The man with the large black gun slung across his chest, dressed head to toe in green camouflage, dug the tip of his boot into her ribs. She cringed, curling into the pain, her already labored breaths coming out in quick puffs. He hadn’t fired the warning shots, but she didn’t doubt that he was willing to shoot at anything. Even her.
Pushing shaking hands beneath her, she glared up into the shadowed face of her guard, Manuel. He was charged with keeping her inside the compound and lugging a myriad of outdated scientific equipment to the room they’d deemed a laboratory. He frowned and spit toward her, barely missing her shoulder. She glared at him, jerking away from the spot next to her hand where the disgusting stream had landed.
Manuel grunted, kicked her foot and pointed his gun at the broken beakers and hot plates scattered at her side. They didn’t need to speak the same language for her to understand what he wanted. When she didn’t move immediately, he wrapped his hand around her arm. Jess jerked it away, her skin crawling under the touch of his callused fingers.
Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?
Every morning they insisted on marching her from her cell of a room to the kitchen for a spicy breakfast and then pushing her from the storage shed to the lab and back, carrying supplies that had probably been upgraded about the time Louis Pasteur started studying biology.
She didn’t bother voicing her complaints. What good would it do? She wasn’t a guest. She was a prisoner. And so she kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the exits, dreaming up wildly improbable escape plans.
Realistically, she knew she’d never be able to get away on her own. She didn’t even know what country she was in. Even if she could scale an outside security wall and scramble over the loops of barbed wire and shards of glass without getting snagged, she had no idea what she’d face on the other side, or how she would get to help.
She was stuck inside this steaming, muddy compound—with or without a personal escort.
At least until she could figure out a plausible plan.
Or until her dad sent help.
Manuel shoved her shoulder, and she whispered, “God, please let him send help soon.”
“Qué?” Manuel shook his dark hair off his forehead, his eyes boring into her.
Jess swallowed and blinked, fighting the urge to look away. “Nothing.” She didn’t wait for him to push her again, but stooped to collect the scattered debris.
The weight of the full box in her arms made each step through the dewy grass twice as hard, three times as slow. She was losing strength, her energy reserves depleting quickly from too much manual labor and too many nights with not enough sleep.
She wasn’t about to risk more than just the essential catnaps at night.
Someone had been poking around outside her room the night before.
She wasn’t going to be asleep if they managed to make it in.
Exhaustion was wearing her down, but she didn’t have a choice about setting up her lab, as ordered. Manuel seemed far too eager to use his gun, taking every opportunity to butt the barrel against her. Like a teenager given his first car, Manuel couldn’t wait to take it for a test drive.
When they reached one of the nondescript gray, cinder block buildings that seemed to multiply within the compound, Manuel went to work on the large, padlocked metal door. It squealed as he pushed it open and motioned for her to follow him in.
Jess stumbled over the four-inch step, her legs like overcooked fettuccine. With a clinking of glass, the box she’d been carrying landed on one of four black tables evenly spaced in the middle of the room. The table’s wooden legs slid on the cement floor as Jess fell against it.
Manuel grumbled and motioned for her to rearrange the furniture.
If they’d spoken the same language, she’d have told him that this high school chemistry class replica— complete with two full walls of counter space and one measly window—was more likely to cause them all to be killed than keep the Morsyni toxin safe until it was released.
At least, she assumed that’s what they wanted her to do. Really, it was all a guess at this point. Manuel’s monosyllabic grunts and broken English had barely hinted at why she’d been attacked, drugged and dragged to...wherever this was. But it wasn’t a far jump to guess that it had everything to do with her research on the Morsyni toxin. Before three men in black ski masks had abducted her from the Southern California State University lab, they’d forced her to retrieve her sample vial of the powder. She had just one gram of the ultrafine substance, but it contained more than a trillion lethal spores.
Which was enough to kill fifty million people. Or more.
Jess’s stomach lurched at the very thought. Her research had all been targeted at better understanding the Morsyni, hoping to one day find a cure. Or at least a way to minimize its effects. But whoever had brought her here just wanted to twist her expertise and use it against... Well, she didn’t know who. But someone was a target, and she had been set up to be the arrow.
Suddenly the humidity wasn’t the only thing making it hard to breathe. She pushed past Manuel and out the door, hoping that the narrow alley along the back of the cinder block barrack would provide enough air to lift the band around her chest.
They could have only one reason for taking her, too. They needed someone who knew how to release the toxin without killing everyone inside the compound.
Manuel shoved her shoulder, gesturing her back to the storage shed to get more supplies. “Move.” He locked the door and then resumed breathing on her neck. She shuddered at the stale odor, praying once again to be anywhere but confined by these compound walls with this man as her tail.
She’d nearly worn the winding path to the shed into a muddy trench, but she kept her head down as she trudged toward their destination.
They emerged into the courtyard, the afternoon sun steaming her skin through her cotton shirt. They had to be near the equator. Or possibly on the sun.
Jess was nearly all the way across the courtyard when her foot disappeared into a mud puddle, and she lurched to the ground, landing on all fours.
Manuel yelled at her, and she glared over her shoulder at him.
“Ocho días.” He rolled his eyes in a universal sign of displeasure. “Sólo ocho días.”
Eight days. Only eight days.
Even she, who’d passed high school Spanish only because of her best friend, could translate that. Manuel expected to have to put up with her for only eight more days. It was too much to hope that he’d simply be replaced by a different guard at the end of that time or that she’d be free to leave then.
Which could only mean one thing.
She’d have served her purpose. In eight days, she’d be expected to release the toxin.
And then she’d likely be killed.
Unless she escaped.
Something like fear and dread clawed at her insides, leaving a twisted trail of pain in its wake. She fought the sudden need to vomit, and gulped in great quantities of oxygen.
“Up!”
Pushing her hands into the mud, Jess made it to her feet, and her gaze fell squarely on a man in a tattered gray suit twenty yards away. Two armed guards held his elbows as he glowered at another one, who seemed to be in charge. The man in the gray suit turned a blank stare on her, his pale face cloaked in a five-o’clock shadow. And devoid of any recognition.
But she knew him.
She’d known him more than half her life, though she hadn’t seen him in years.
At least...at least it looked like Will.
Her heart leaped to her throat, lodging there as she tried to call out.
Manuel stepped into her line of sight, and by the time she’d scrambled to look around him, the familiar face had disappeared.
Maybe the heat and humidity were causing hallucinations. Maybe she’d simply imagined him, hoping someone would come for her.
But why would her mind conjure Will Gumble?
“Vámanos.” Manuel nudged her toward the giant house that took up nearly half of a security wall. Its golden stucco walls and clay-tile roof were out of place among the host of intentionally unremarkable buildings in its shadow. It had to be home to the man or men in charge, although she’d yet to see them.
She followed the path around the big house to the storage shed, pushing all thoughts of Will Gumble out of her mind. She had eight days—less, actually—to make it out of this place alive. And dwelling on her former best friend wasn’t going to rescue her. She had to find a way out on her own.
