SEALs of Summer 2: A Military Romance Superbundle (128 page)

The man nodded and took a seat in the waiting room.

“May I help you, ma’am?” The woman behind the counter asked Claire.

“No, I think I’m in the wrong building,” Claire said, her voice barely above a whisper. Who was that black man, and what connection did he have to do with the people who’d taken Dr. Jamo?

“What building were you looking for?”

“The mess hall?” Claire said, knowing perfectly well where it was.

“You’re not far. It’s a couple buildings over.” The female soldier gave her the directions with another smile.

Claire left the building. She half-walked, half-ran to the mess hall, bursting through the door, her gaze searching for Irish.

“Hey,” a voice said beside her.

She turned and fell into Irish’s arms.

He held her for a minute then pushed her to arms’ length. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“There’s a white truck outside that looks similar to the one that took Dr. Jamo.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the exit.

Irish followed her to the corner of the medical clinic where the truck still stood.

“There.” She pointed, breathing hard, her heart pumping blood through her so fast she was dizzy. “It isn’t an SUV, but it’s got the exact logo on the door panel.”

“A flying dove.” Irish studied the vehicle for a moment, then took her hand and led her toward the Special Operations Command center where they’d been debriefed the night before.

“I need to talk to Colonel Mathis,” he said to the army sergeant at the front desk.

“I’ll see if he’s available.”

“What’s the problem?” Colonel Mathis emerged from the back office, followed by his assistant, an army captain.

“Dr. Boyette spotted a truck outside with a similar logo to the vehicle used to take away her colleague Dr. Jamo. Could we determine who owns the logo? Perhaps we can find out where they’ve taken Dr. Jamo.”

The commander’s brows furrowed. “Have you considered al-Shabaab might have stolen the truck?”

“Yes, sir.” Irish squared his shoulders. “But if there’s an even remote possibility they didn’t steal it, and whoever owns the vehicle with the logos has something to do with Dr. Jamo’s disappearance, I’d like to follow up on it.”

“Fair enough.” Colonel Mathis waved his assistant forward. “Captain Copeland, we need someone to make a subtle inquiry into the ownership of the logo.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll check into it,” the captain said and hurried out of the building.

“Thank you, sir,” Irish said. “We’ll be in the chow hall, should you need to find us.” He hustled Claire out of the command center and back toward the chow hall.

“I’m not hungry,” Claire said, digging her heels into the dirt. “How can you eat at a time like this? If that company has anything to do with Dr. Jamo’s kidnapping, I want to know immediately.”

“We don’t know someone from that company took him. And if we want to know more, we need to give the good captain a chance to inquire.”

Claire shoved her hand through her hair. “What if he tips off the man and he leaves before we can find out where Dr. Jamo is?”

Irish touched her arm. “I seriously doubt the man in that clinic would know anything about Dr. Jamo.”

“But if he doesn’t, someone he works with might.”

“I have an idea. Come with me to the mess hall, and I’ll fill you in with the rest of the team.”

Claire stopped resisting and followed Irish to the cafeteria, her gaze turning to the white truck up to the point they entered the chow hall, the building’s walls cutting off her view. “What if that truck is going to the same place where they’re holding Dr. Jamo? He’ll be leaving in thirty minutes or less. Can’t we follow it?” She faced him. “I know I sound crazy, but this might be our only lead.”

“Darlin’, we’re surrounded by miles and miles of desert. You know that if we follow a vehicle across it, they are sure to see us. I have a better idea, but I need my buddy Swede’s assistance.” He found the majority of his team eating breakfast at a table in the far corner.

“Irish, Dr. Claire, join us,” Tuck invited, scooting over to allow them to sit in the middle.

Claire liked the easy camaraderie among the team and the teasing way they treated each other. She had no doubt they would take a bullet for each other, but they didn’t take each other too seriously when they had downtime.

“Swede,” Irish started without preamble. “Did you bring along any of your gee-whiz gizmos?”

The tall man with pale blond hair seated directly across from Irish frowned. “What do you mean gee-whiz gizmos?”

“In particular, did you bring any GPS tracking devices?”

Swede sat back, smiling. “You know I come prepared for anything.”

Irish lowered his voice and leaned across the table. “Including tracking a vehicle through the deserts and potentially the jungles of Africa?”

Swede’s smile faded and his body tensed. “Why? Have we got a mission?”

The entire team leaned in to hear what Irish had to say.

“Not official. I’m not sure it has anything to do with anything, but if it does, we need to take this chance.” He explained about Dr. Jamo and the white vehicles with the dove logo on the side door.

“Is that all you need?”

“For now. I might need you all to run interference for me should I need to bug out and find Dr. Jamo at a moment’s notice.”

“Count me in,” Tuck said.

“Me, too,” Big Bird agreed.

Everyone else piped in, offering his assistance.

“Thanks, but for now, I’d like to keep this goat rope to a minimum.” Irish’s jaw tightened. “If I go AWOL, I don’t want any of you going down with me.”

Claire bit her lip. She didn’t like the idea of the guys getting in trouble.

“What’s our timeframe?” Swede asked.

“Less than twenty minutes to plant the bug.”

Swede leaped from his seat. “I’ll be back.”

“You gonna tell the C.O.?” Tuck asked.

Irish stared at his teammate. “Not if I think it’ll jeopardize the mission.”

“Gotcha.” Tuck glanced at the door to the mess hall. “There’s Captain Copeland now.”

Claire swiveled in her seat. Her head spun with everything happening so far, her hopes high that they’d be able to find Dr. Jamo and deliver him safely back to Djibouti.

Captain Copeland spotted her and headed toward the group at the table. “The company that truck belongs to is owned by the government of Ethiopia. It’s an up-and-coming pharmaceutical company. They occasionally ask to use our medical lab facilities when they experience power issues.”

“Power issues?” Tuck’s brows wrinkled. “A pharmaceutical company with power issues?”

“A part of our ability to operate out of Djibouti means we have MOUs, memos of understanding, between local medical facilities,” the captain explained.

“Ethiopia isn’t local,” Irish stated.

“That question’s between Ethiopia and Djibouti.” Captain Copeland straightened. “Colonel Mathis would like to speak with Chief Petty Officer O’Shea and Dr. Boyette as soon as possible.” With that parting comment, the captain left the mess hall, probably expecting Claire and Irish to follow.

When Irish didn’t immediately rise, Claire remained seated, wondering what more he had to say to the others.

Irish faced Tuck. “You’ll make sure the tracking device finds its way onto that vehicle?”

Tuck nodded. “Don’t worry. Swede will take care of it. I’m going with you.”

“Dr. Jamo helped save my life.” Irish stood. “I’d like to return the favor.”

Claire’s heart swelled at Irish’s words.

As they walked out of the mess hall, one of the SEALs stepped up beside her and held out his hand. “I’m Jack Fischer.”

“The one they call Fish?” she asked as she clasped his hand.

He grinned. “That’s me. Just wondered if you’d considered working as a doctor anywhere else but Africa?”

She glanced up into his face. “Why do you ask?”

Irish joined her. “His lady is a doctor, too.”

Butterflies erupted in Claire’s belly. Irish had intimated she was his lady. After their short time together, she hadn’t expected any commitment from the man. But the loose connection felt good. “Where does she practice medicine?” Claire asked.

“She’s founded a non-profit, floating doctor boat.”

“Boat?”
How does that work?

“Yeah, they travel to Central and South America, providing services to people who can’t afford or don’t have access to good medical attention. They could always use another doctor on board.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“She bases out of Norfolk when she’s not touring south.” Fish shrugged. “Just saying. They could use the help, should you decide Africa is too dangerous.”

Irish snorted. “Not like Central and South America are terror free.”

“No, they’re not.” Fish had the decency to blush. “But at least I get to see Natalie a few times during the year.”

“Sounds interesting,” Claire said, and meant it. To work alongside another female doctor doing what she loved most might be nice. Helping others who can’t help themselves. But that was all assuming they rescued Dr. Jamo alive before the SEALs had to bug out on another mission somewhere else in the world.

What would it be like to come home to Virginia where the SEALs were based? She’d lived so long in Africa, the relocation would mean an adjustment to live in the States. The thought of having someone to come home to appealed to her more than she cared to admit.

If she took a job with the doctor boat, she might have a chance to get to know Irish when she was in port. She’d like that.

“Let’s go see what the colonel wants.” Irish rested his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the Special Operations command center.

Tuck followed.

Claire prayed Colonel Mathis didn’t put the kibosh on the potential rescue mission. She owed it to Dr. Jamo to get him out alive.

‡

“I
take it
Captain Copeland gave you the information.” Colonel Mathis stood in the briefing room, his hands on his hips, combat boots spread wide.

Irish nodded, unable to gauge the colonel’s take on the information. “He did. The trucks belong to a pharmaceutical company out of Ethiopia.”

The colonel watched as Tuck entered the room and closed the door behind him. “Good, I’m glad you came, Tuck.” He stepped aside to reveal Gator seated at the table behind him. “Gator is up on the intel. I’ll let him fill you in.”

Tuck glanced toward Claire. “Does the good doctor need clearance to hear what you have to say?”

Claire tensed beside Irish.

The colonel glanced from Irish to Claire and back. “Since she was in Samada when the shit hit the fan, and she also pointed out the connection to the pharmaceutical company, we’ll let the clearance slide this time.” He tipped his head toward Gator.

“We got word from Langley that they think they found Umar. Satellite photos indicate he might be at one of the Ethiopian pharmaceutical company’s locations in the desert.”

“You think he’s working with them?” Claire asked. “Why?”

“Langley’s been tracking a string of occurrences in a pattern on the border of Somalia and Ethiopia. It started with Umar’s raids on outlying villages. Consensus was that at first, he shot all his victims, but a special team was sent in to the decimated villages after the attacks. They discovered the people didn’t die by the usual bullet to the head or beheading. Their bodies and heads were intact. Every last one of them died of something else.”

“Biological warfare?” Irish asked.

Claire gasped. “Like the village we passed through on our way here?”

Gator nodded. “They suspected the pharmaceutical company, but didn’t have anything to go on until you identified the vehicle in Umar’s camp as one similar to that of our weekly visitor to Camp Lemonnier.”

Claire’s face got even paler. “They could just as easily have brought whatever chemical or disease on the post.”

Gator’s lips thinned. “My first thought.”

“The team that investigated the dead villagers sent photos of the blood samples,” Colonel Mathis said. “We have our medical lab technicians testing the blood of all those who came into contact with the courier. We’ve delayed him for the time being, claiming the tests he wanted run were taking longer than expected due to equipment malfunction.”

A knock on the door interrupted their discussion.

“Enter,” the colonel called out.

Captain Copeland opened the door and set one foot inside. “Negative on the blood samples. All clear.”

“You can release the courier,” Colonel Mathis said.

“We’re feeding him now since his samples took so long. We’ll have him out of here as soon as possible.” Captain Copeland left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Which leads us to the next action,” Mathis said.

Gator pushed to his feet, limped to a computer and clicked the mouse. A satellite photo popped up on a white screen behind the SEAL. “These are the images Langley sent.” He clicked the mouse again and a map overlaid the satellite photo. Gator pointed to a spot on the map, in the middle of a desert. “This is the pharmaceutical company’s factory. Note the field of white beside the structure. Those are solar panels they use to power the manufacturing processes.”