Operation Zulu Redemption: Act of Treason - Part 4 (13 page)

The command center thrummed with tension and activity. Aznar and Olmedo sat at folding tables with laptops that showed a quad-split screen of different camera angles. Trace stood by the one-way glass, hovering over the scene, wishing he was down there in the fray. Closer to the fight. Closer so he could protect Téya and Annie.

The tented area only hosted the food and entertainment. Everything else had been deliberately set up so they had a birds-eye view of every attendee. Annie stood alone, sipping a drink. Water. She’d never compromise her state of mind for alcohol. She was too stringent with the rules to bend them. It’s what he’d liked about her.

A cluster of uniformed officers drew his attention. He considered their placement. The analysts said Batsakis had been looking in their direction when he reacted. Trace scratched the side of his face, thinking.

“Boss-man?”

Trace shifted and glanced over his shoulder.

At his own workstation, Houston waved him over.

The door to the suite clicked and opened. In stormed Samuel Caliguari. An agent stopped him, but Trace lifted a hand. “He’s with me.”

Caliguari crossed the room. “You wanted me here.”

“I did.”

The Squid nodded. “Good. I came to get the mic you forgot to give me.”

The guy had some chutzpah.

“I mean, I know you meant to. You wouldn’t want me on the ground during a mission without being able to communicate possible threats. I know you want to protect Annie and I need a piece”—he thumbed toward his ear—“to do that.”

“You know that, do you?” Admirable that the fish out of water presented this in the best possible light for everyone. He’d put Trace in a corner.

“I do. Because I know you’re an honorable type of guy. You wouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of doing the right thing.”

Grinding his teeth, Trace lifted a coms box from the table and held it out.

Sam took it without a word.

“Uh, Boss-man. . .I think you’ll want to see this,” Houston said.

Trace turned, pulling his anger and attention from the SEAL. He lifted his chin in a “go-ahead” to Houston.

“It’s that trajectory analysis you wanted.”

“The what?”

“The trajectory of Batsakis’s gaze.”

Trace made his way back to Houston near the windows. As he reached for the table, he noted Caliguari with him. Trace scowled at him.

“What? I need to know threats on the ground, right?”

With a huff, Trace nodded to Houston.

“Well, I have been working with the feed from Batsakis. . .” Houston’s wiry hair seemed especially frizzed today, and Trace had to shift to see around the mop.

Caliguari adjusted, too, watching the video.

Houston’s fingers sailed over the keyboard. “So, I—”

“Weston! Weston, your girl’s in trouble!” Aznar shouted, and flipped a switch. The audio went live through all speakers.

“What do you want?” It was Annie’s voice. Her trembling voice.

“You did this little event, so I would imagine you know what I want, Miss Palermo.”

Trace stilled. “That’s Ballenger. He knows her name. Her real name.”

“He also knows this gig is a setup,” Caliguari added.

With a pat on Caliguari’s chest, Trace nodded. “Get down there now.”

Sam darted for the door.

“Anyone got a twenty on One?” Trace demanded. “Six, do you have Annie?”

“Copy that,” Nuala said. “She’s directly below your suite. Out of your sight.”

“The man with her—”

“No joy,” Nuala said. “He’s hidden. Perfectly. Hotel pillar covering from the south. Large planter from the north. Annie’s shielding him. Repeat, I have no joy.”

Trace cursed but heard Aznar ordering one of the SWAT teams to the roof of an adjacent building. Security camera angled in and caught Annie, standing rigid and wide-eyed. Not moving anything but her eyes and lips. Ballenger could kill her right there, right in front of him. Retaliation?

“Two,” Trace said.

“Moving in now,” Téya replied softly. “I only see a shadow. He’s smart. And good.”

“We need to be better!” Trace shouted.

“You understand,” Ballenger said, “that I couldn’t just stay in the shadows. I couldn’t let those responsible continue to profit year after year.”

“Who are you after?” Annie asked.

Yes, keep him talking. Good girl.

“Oh, the wisest man in the world.” Ballenger snickered. “Which, obviously is nobody on your team. It has been so easy to get around you.”

“Why would you want to target us?” Annie’s voice shook. “We were only—”

“No. No! You do not get to do that,” Ballenger’s voice growled through the coms. “Let them sit in their temple and palace, built on the blood of my daughter and wife.”

“Almost there,” came Sam’s breathy grunt through the coms.

“Be ready, Miss Palermo. The fireworks start soon.”

“Who are you targeting?” she asked. “There are a lot of innocent people here who will get hurt. Think this through, Berg.”

But he didn’t answer.

The camera captured Téya scurrying up to Annie. Trace bent forward, waiting for the confrontation.

“He’s gone,” Téya panted out the words. “Ballenger is gone.”

“Find him!” Trace shouted, his heart pounding.

“Boss-man.”

“Not now, Houston.”

“No, really. You need to see this now.”

“Colonel Weston?”

Trace pivoted toward the voice. A man stood in the corner of the room, being checked by security. He stepped forward and Trace frowned. “General Cantor.” Another man loomed behind the Army chief of staff. “Do I know you?”

Cantor motioned to the man. “Colonel Weston, this is my future son-in-law, Eric Goff.”

The young captain shifted but gave Trace a firm handshake.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but this is a bad time,” Trace said, irritated the man would bring his future son-in-law up here to show off. It didn’t seem within character for Cantor either, but Trace couldn’t focus on them. “If you’ll excu—”

“Actually, Colonel, this”—Cantor bobbed his head around the room—“is why I came up here.”

“Sir?”

“I’d like you to keep a close eye on Solomon.”

Trace blinked. The general? No, he must mean the daughter. “She’s fine, sir. I have—”

“
General
Solomon,” Cantor clarified.

Again, Trace blinked. “I. . .we—am I missing something, sir?”

Cantor exchanged a look with Goff, then sighed. “We have reason to believe Haym may be in danger.”

“You think he’s a target?”

“I think he
is
danger.”

Trace’s mind was starting to feel like a pretzel. “Ballenger knows he’s the one who sent Zulu in?”

“Just keep your eyes on Solomon, Colonel.” Cantor gave a firm nod then turned and started for the door. Trace watched the two leave without another word and closed the door behind them.

That was bizarre, to say the least. Trace shook off the scowl and confusion. Insanity.

“Boss-man?”

“Right,” Trace said, turning. “Sorry. What did you want to show me?”

“I think Cantor might be right.”

Trace frowned. “How’s that?”

“The trajectory lines of Batsakis’s reaction. . .he was looking at the officers.”

“We know that—the five Aznar warned us about.”

“Yes, but when I used other videos and footage,” Houston said as he moved the mouse and clicked a few screens. “I figured out
who
he reacted to.”

Trace would kill the guy if he didn’t get to his point soon.

“Sir, it was General Solomon.” Houston’s eyes were wide. “What if Cantor is right—what if Batsakis is going to kill Solomon?”

“Why are you doing this?

Francesca Solomon glided around in her tight black evening gown. She gave a cool, unaffected air as she smiled at Téya. “Doing what?”

“Getting under our skin,” Téya said with an even smile. “Being a pain in the backside.”

“Maybe it’s what I do best,” the woman replied, unfazed by the confrontation.

“That’s for sure,” Téya said. “That and destroy lives.”

“Sorry, dear. You did that on your own.”

“Mm, perhaps, but did Trace?”

“Dial it down, ladies,” Trace’s voice cut into the coms. “Focus on the task at hand.”

“Yes, and let’s be grateful we weren’t forced to wear formal dress uniforms,” Francesca said. “We’d stick out like sore thumbs.”

“More like gaudy targets,” Téya said.

Francesca laughed. “At least we can die in the company of good-looking men.” She nodded to a well-muscled man in a suit. “I didn’t know they grew the charity types so brawny.”

Téya had to admit Solomon was right. She’d seen a handful of hunks wandering the event. One had flirted with her at the fountain.

“Now, there’s a sound I haven’t heard in a while,” General Solomon said as he and Cantor joined them, flanked by two others: one a colonel and a peer to the first two. The younger, however. . .Tall, handsome, a little on the lanky side. But not hard on the eyes.

“Ladies, this is Sergeant First Class Goff and his father, Colonel Goff.”

Téya and Francesca greeted them, Téya taking in the newcomers’ uniforms. The younger Goff had an air of determination she’d often seen in men like Trace and Boone. Colonel Goff bore the full bird, being a rank higher than Trace. But at the man’s age, she’d have expected him to have attained a higher rank. Maybe he hadn’t entered service young like his son, who had enough medals and recognition pins to serve as a Kevlar vest.

Téya tilted her head, eyeing his left shoulder. Over the Airborne patch, he wore the blue Ranger tab. Ah. That explained the no-mess attitude. She wanted to trade stories with him, but she’d tip her hand if she did.

“Keep up the casual banter,” Trace intoned in their ears. “But stay eyes and ears out.”

Right. Because in fifteen minutes the fireworks display would start. That would be the prime opportunity to shoot someone or blow something up and attract not a lot of attention. So, basically, she had fifteen minutes to live.

Music drifted into the night. Attendees grouped up and headed for the wooden dance floor covering the center of the pavilion. Cantor extended his hand to Francesca, who graciously accepted.

Téya hated dancing but couldn’t exactly say that when the younger Goff offered his hand. She smiled and accepted. He led her onto the dance floor.

“You’re not wearing your uniform,” he said.

Téya’s heart thudded hard.

“Don’t worry,” he said, easing in and holding her close. “I’m not the threat. I’m part of the protection detail. My team is here.”

“Rangers?” she asked, leaning back to eye his uniform again.

“5th Group.”

Arching an eyebrow, Téya appreciated the news. “Special Forces. With a Ranger tab.”

“What can I say?” He grinned. “I’m just that good.”

“Téya, he knows you’re the asset. That’s all,” Trace’s warning came through the coms quiet but strong. In other words, don’t give him more info than he needs.

Goff talked casually and laughed a lot, but she noticed his gaze never stopped roaming. Neither did hers. Any second she expected to feel heat and pain explode through her back.

“You here?”

Téya flinched. “What?”

“You zoned.”

“Sorry.”

“Guess you can take the girl out of the uniform, but not the uniform out of the girl.”

“Something like—”

A familiar face bobbed between two dancers in the crowd. Familiar. Very familiar. She followed with her gaze, her breath jacked up into her throat. She saw— Téya sucked in a hard breath.

“Hey.” Goff tightened his arm around her. “You okay?”

“He’s here,” she breathed, frantic.

“Téya?” Trace’s voice was clear, distinct. Terse. “Who’d you see?”

Her mouth went dry. She realized she wasn’t dancing anymore, but she didn’t care. She pushed through the crowd, plunging in the direction she’d seen him. It was like trying to swim up a raging river, the throng of partyers unyielding as she tried to push past them.

“Téya, what’s happening?” Trace asked. “What’d you see?”

Him. She saw
him
. Her mind raged, demanding she verify who she’d seen. Demanding she find him. Téya sprinted around a corner. Saw a door close. She raced after it.

“Téya! You’re out of line of sight.”

She sprinted for the door.

“Téya!”

She jerked open the door and stepped in. The door slammed shut behind her. She stopped short.

Felt a poke against her back.

“Thank you,” a man’s voice breathed down her neck. “Thank you for helping me avoid listening ears.”

Her coms was still in place. She could still hear Trace shouting for someone to find her. Go after her.

“You and your sisters—how foolish to come here. To set a trap for me. You see? The one for whom you set the traps has sprung the traps.” He chuckled.

Téya shifted.

He pressed the gun harder into her back. “Uh-uh-uh,” he grunted. “Keep your hands where I can see them, or I’ll be sure you can’t lift another finger ever again.”

“What do you want, Ballenger?”

“I want to know why you’re with Queen of Sheba? Why would the angels of Zulu taint themselves with the blood of the pagan queen?”

Téya scowled. What was he talking about? “She’s helping us find you.”

He laughed loud and hard. “Helping you? Find me? But dearest, I’m right here. And where is she? Dancing with a soldier.”

“Téya, stay cool,” Trace said. “We’re coming for you.”

“Ah, my good Colonel,” Ballenger said. “No need to treat me like the enemy. We are on the same side, you and me. We want the same person dead.”

Téya’s heart thudded. He knew Trace was listening. And if he knew that—would he kill her?

“Tell him I hear him,” Trace said.

Wetting her lips, Téya gathered her courage. “He heard you.”

“Oh, I know he does.” Ballenger chuckled again. “He should be asking himself how I know that. I’ve given him the clues he’ll need to end what he’s been trying to end for five years. But I’m not convinced he’s paying attention.”

“I am!” Trace shouted, his voice panicked. “I’m listening, Ballenger.”

“He said he’s listening,” Téya said, her breaths coming in gulps.

“Oh, I’m sure he is. I have his girl here. Though, not his favorite. That’d be Palermo, wouldn’t it? Or maybe he now likes the Queen of Sheba.” Ballenger caught Téya’s hair in his hand and jerked her head backward.

She yelped but quickly braced herself.

“See, he’s not interested in you because you belong to another.”

“No,” Téya said. “I belong to no man.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Ballenger said as he drove the gun into her cheek and then grabbed her hand. “This mark says differently.” He leered down at her. “Do you know what this scar, this burn means?”

“I need plastic surgery,” Téya ground out, focusing her energy. Focusing on how to disarm him without getting her head blown off.

He guffawed. “No wonder he claimed you.” He grabbed her hair again and tugged her toward the door. “No, this mark means if I kill you, he will kill me. It guarantees your death will only come at the hand of one man—The Turk. And if it doesn’t, then there will be hell to pay for whoever robbed him of the pleasure.”

“What do you care?” Téya growled.

“Oh, I don—”

Téya snapped around. Flicked her hand in a palm-strike against the weapon, knocking it out of his hand. She drove the heel of her other hand into his chin. But he deflected just in time.

Ballenger stumbled. Reared back with the butt of the weapon.

Clink. Clink. Clink!

Téya saw the gray canister tumbling toward them. She threw herself around, opened her mouth, held her breath, and closed her eyes.

Booom!

White light exploded through her thin eyelids, searing her vision. She squeezed her eyes tighter.