Dead in Their Tracks (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Story Book 1) (15 page)

Chapter 32

Ryker was sitting at his desk at the
downtown Phoenix office, tapping his pencil rhythmically on his laptop screen
while analyzing the recent information from Interpol that had just arrived. The
image of a woman who went by a half-dozen aliases pulled up. Ryker’s pencil
stopped fluttering as he sat upright in his chair then hastily tore through papers
on his desk, searching for the FBI bulletin he’d received the day before. He
held the photograph of Mira Sanchez next to the new one, his eyes narrowing. Beside
the listed aliases were the words:
Person of Interest in international
espionage undertakings and cyber-hacking.

Ryker picked up the phone and dialed
Perry’s number, going straight to voicemail. He mentally replayed the details
of the previous day’s debriefing with Perry and then reflected on Mitch’s
disturbing phone call, which contradicted everything he’d been told. Ryker
leaned back in his chair, folding his arms while staring at the original FBI
bulletin. He picked it up again, studying the image and text.
How did this
woman make it up on the list so quickly without all the usual bureaucratic red tape?

Ryker picked up the phone and dialed in
the tech and ballistics division on the second floor. “I’d like to put a trace
on Agent Perry Kovac’s phone. Notify me when you have his location.”

He put the phone down and stood up,
balling his fists and pressing them into the edge of his desk, staring
pensively at his laptop as he waited for the information to arrive. Ryker
wasn’t sure who to believe but something didn’t feel right about Perry’s
earlier dismissal of Mitch and the botched field operation that had unfolded in
the desert. He was also surprised at how quickly the facial recognition software
request had been approved by the D.C. office. That hadn’t ever happened in his
twelve years on the job.

The phone rang, the call coming from the
technician he’d just spoken with. “Sir, I’ve got his location and I’m sending
it over right now but you might also be interested to know that the ballistics
report on our three agents came in—the rounds were identical to the hollow
point rounds found in the dead men’s weapons at the ranch house. They are
proprietary rounds that come out of Latin America. There’s no way Agent Kearns
could have fired those shots.”

He saw the map pop up on his laptop with a
concentric circle pulsing around the city of Anaheim, California. He thanked
the technician and enhanced the imagery on his screen, after which GPS
coordinates pulled up. He clicked on the numbers. Ryker’s eyes went wide as he
stood back. “Aeneid Corporation.”

Ryker grabbed his jacket and his tactical
gear bag then phoned the operations center to scramble the helicopter on the
roof.

Chapter 33

Perry’s earpiece crackled as the guard in
the lobby notified him of four firefighters who had arrived, requesting to get
verification that their electrical power supply was unaffected by the recent
rolling blackout. He scanned the security monitors, searching for any signs of
Mitch or Sanchez, but saw nothing.
They’re probably trying to use the
firefighters for cover
—
or are concealed as one of the firefighters.

He spun around and trotted to the door.
“On my way down. Keep the fire crew there.”

Ritter stopped him, pressing his hand into
the door. “Are you insane? You can’t be seen here. You’re a federal agent who’s
supposed to be in Arizona right now.”

Perry arched his shoulders back, wanting
to drive his fist into the old man’s face but knowing he was right. He yelled
back to the security chief Seth. “Get over to the lobby and make sure those
guys check out. Then do a sweep of the computer mainframe again to make sure
everything is secure.”

Perry swept back to the console, staring
squarely at the firemen, trying to enhance the resolution of their faces. One
of them had his back to the camera and hadn’t moved since their arrival. “Dammit,
that has to be Mitch.” He slammed his fist against the desk, his eyes scouring every
nuance of the man’s features as Seth entered the frame. A minute later, Perry
received confirmation in his earpiece that the men checked out and he saw that
the fireman was not whom he suspected. He blinked his eyes hard, trying to
relax, then saw Seth escort the men towards the circuit breaker room at the
back of the lobby. Perry took several deep breaths, trying to calm his mind,
knowing his imagination was starting to erode his normally calm mindset.

Perry had to fight back his acid reflux,
which was getting out of control. His mind was racing over the variables that
seemed to be unspooling around him. This was supposed to be a quick operation
to nab the woman. Then he could melt back into his role at the FBI so he
wouldn’t be missed in Phoenix. Ritter had layers of deniability to cover his
ass but Perry was starting to feel a chill coming over his own. Something
needed to happen fast. All he felt like doing was putting his fist through
someone’s face but instead he ground his teeth and seethed, resuming his search
for intruders on the monitors ahead.

Lawry, the systems engineer sitting to
Perry’s right, began tapping on a blinking red light on the console.

“What—what’s wrong? What the hell is
that?” said Perry.

“Not sure, but someone is trying to gain
access to our systems.” The bald man began typing on his keyboard, pulling up
different screens that showed the internal schematics of the facility. He
checked the mainframe on the fifth floor which indicated the vault door was
still secure. Then he wheeled his chair over to another monitor to search the
security system on Jessica Carter’s old office. “I don’t get it, the main
terminal is secure but it appears that there is an attempted breach through the
portals in Carter’s office.”

Perry grabbed the man’s shirt collar,
scrunching the fabric enough to put a choke on his throat. “This is the part
where you get a chiropractic adjustment if I don’t get fucking results in the
next minute.”

Lawry began frantically typing, reducing
the signal down to the source until the schematic of the facility pulled up
again. This time a red line emanating from Aeneid began etching itself along
the screen, leading across the city.

“What is that? Some remote terminal?”
yelled Perry. “Do they have access?”

“I’ll know in just a moment.”

Perry raced to the back of the room beside
the other office and yanked open the door where Ritter was located. “I’m pretty
sure we’re fucked—they may have found a way in.”

The two men rushed back to the console
where Lawry had just finished his last keyboard stroke. The red line simulating
the source ended in a residential area where it kept pulsing. “They must have a
mobile site outside the city,” said Perry.

Ritter’s mouth hung open and the color had
drained out of his normally tan face. “No…no, that’s my estate.”

Perry grabbed Nelson’s arm. “Is your
terminal there secure or are they waltzing through your fucking firewall
upstairs right now?”

Ritter paused, his lips trembling and his
fists balling up. “They shouldn’t be able to breach our system.”

“
Shouldn’t be able
to
—Christ.
We need to get the shipment moved and in the hands of Fareed and his guys so
we’re clear of this.” Perry unhanded the older man and staggered to the door.
“Don’t tell me about going out in public now. You’ve given me little choice.”

Ritter followed behind him. “I’m coming as
well. Besides, you don’t even know the location and will need reinforcements if
this thing goes to hell.”

Chapter 34

Within minutes of receiving the alert at
Aeneid, Ritter and Perry sped out of the facility, racing towards the warehouse
where the weapons shipment was about to be delivered. Ritter alerted his team
of henchmen that were already on site to be on the lookout for anything out of
the ordinary and to hasten the arms exchange with Fareed.

***

Dev was watching the satellite feed on her
computer from the comfort of their stolen van when the visual she’d hoped for
emerged. “Looks like the fox has fled the henhouse. I’ve got ’em.” Mitch was in
the driver’s seat peeling along the interstate. Nearing the warehouse location,
Mitch grabbed the cellphone out of Dev’s shoulder bag and called Ryker.

“I have the proof. Perry is moving a shipment
of assault weapons and IED materials through Aeneid to a group of Iranian
terrorists. Thomas Monroe is in on it too.”

“Assistant Secretary of Defense Monroe?”

“Exactly. Perry is the liaison between the
two. He’s been using bureau resources to cover their tracks. It all unfolds
tonight at the warehouse on Lamson and Brookhurst in Anaheim.”

“It should interest you to know that I’ve
just uncovered some disturbing details about Perry’s involvement in this whole
thing. Ballistics also confirmed that you weren’t the shooter, as I suspected
all along.”

Mitch took a deep breath and relaxed his
clenched fist.

“Listen, Mitch, whatever this is about, this
lady Mira Sanchez is knee-deep in it. She came up on an Interpol search and has
a pretty shocking rap sheet and numerous aliases. In fact, I’m not even sure
which one, if any, is her real name. If she’s with you then you may have more
than Perry and Aeneid to worry about.”

He looked over at Dev, who was giving him
a quizzical look. “Yeah, I can only imagine. Good thing we parted ways a while
back. She seemed like too much of a loose cannon anyway.”

Chapter 35

Fareed and his eight fellow jihadists were
waiting in the rear of the warehouse, fanned out around their two cars when two
black Ford F-150s rolled into the parking lot outside. He motioned for the
other men to stay put while he ran to the dusty bay windows, withdrawing his
pistol from the Kydex holster on his belt. Fareed saw two men with beards and
long jackets emerge, one of them being Gamal, the contact that he’d set up the
weapons exchange with. Despite his attempt to steady his breathing, his limbs
still pulsed with adrenaline, causing his entire body to feel like he had
harnessed the power of the sun. His head filled with images of tomorrow’s news
when his face would be heralded across the world for his exploits.

“It’s OK, my brothers,” he said to the
others at his rear. “Open the garage and let them in.”

A stout man walked to the side of the
building near the truck and hoisted up the large folding door. Fareed came up
alongside him and waved the driver in.

As the truck started to move, Fareed
caught sight of headlights in the distance, the intensity increasing with each
second. “What is this—a trick, you bastard?” he yelled at Gamal through his
open window.

“Relax, my man. That’s just my boss
wanting to make sure everything goes off according to the plan.”

When the gray SUV pulled up, a man stepped
briskly out of the passenger’s side. He was dressed in a suit and resembled
what Fareed imagined an undercover cop would look like. There was an older man
sitting in the back seat, staring intently through the tinted window, his gaunt
face barely visible in the dim lighting. Three other rough-looking fellows also
moved around to the front, their hands resting in front of the openings in
their jackets.

“Let’s get this shipment unloaded now,”
snapped the well-dressed man at Gamal, then gave a fierce look to Fareed. “Have
your men pull their vehicles up so we can get these items dispersed and you can
be on your way.”

Ten minutes later, with their vehicles
nearly full of the payload, Fareed cracked open one of the crates to inspect
the treasure trove of weapons. His eyes danced along the contours of the dozen
AK-47s. They were identical to the type he had trained with in Yemen months ago,
only these had receivers that had been stamped with the Iranian flag. He slid a
rifle out and was about to ask the man in the suit about this when he saw
another set of headlights racing towards them. This vehicle was not slowing
down.

“Get the hell out of here,” yelled the man
in the suit as he sprinted for the SUV but then veered off behind some crates
as the approaching Subaru slammed into the rear of the gray vehicle, sending it
towards Fareed.

He tossed the empty AK on the ground and leapt
onto the pavement, coming up in an awkward somersault. The lead vehicle was
sending rivulets of gasoline along the ground and the air filled with vapors.
Fareed saw two people emerge from the van. One was a scruffy man who ran in the
direction of the crates while the other was a lean woman who moved like a
jaguar and was heading straight for him.

Chapter 36

Dev had the young would-be terrorist in
her sights as she sprinted from the vehicle and charged him. Gamal darted out
in a linebacker’s tackle to intercept her, only to have her sidestep at the
last second and clothesline him under the chin with her forearm. The big
Egyptian’s feet went skyward and he landed on his back. She lunged at him,
driving her heel into his groin then kicking forward into his chin. With the
burly thug out of the way, she continued running past the damaged SUV where she
caught sight of Ritter inside, his head leaking blood while the driver appeared
to have a contorted neck. A half-dozen middle-eastern men were spreading out
like oil droplets on a hot skillet as they began wildly shooting at Ritter’s
henchmen in the parking lot.

Dev swung around the back of a car whose
trunk was loaded with weapons crates and came at Fareed with a running jump kick
to his chest. He toppled backwards into a pile of pallets, springing back up on
his feet, his pistol lying on the ground after becoming dislodged from its
cheap holster. Fareed reached behind his back, pulling out his nine-inch bronze
dagger. He brandished the blade in a reverse-grip fashion, keeping it close to
his side.

Dev removed her own blade, a six-inch
folder, and whipped it open. If possible, she wanted the man alive so she could
get information regarding the attack. Fareed lunged forward, his blade hand
delivering a short slash at her forearm. She deftly sidestepped, slicing at his
triceps, cutting deep into the muscle. The man winced and yelled at her in
Persian, switching the knife to his other hand.

“You can surrender now or I will shred you
one limb at a time until you’ve stopped, but I need one of you alive,” she said,
holding her dripping weapon at waist height in a move that intentionally
invited him to attack. She had used the technique many times before to disarm
an attacker she needed alive.

Fareed’s breathing was furious, his facial
muscles spasming from the pain in his arm. He glanced around at the mayhem
unfolding around him and at the open trunk where the dormant weapons lay. Then
he clutched his blade and focused his gaze upon Dev. “No fucking woman talks to
me like that, you American whore.”

“Wrong on both accounts,” she said, arcing
away from his incoming thrust and gashing him across the rear deltoid. His
blade dropped and he fell on one knee. Dev saw that Petra had already subdued
one of Fareed’s men near the entrance door. She had diverted her attention for
a micro-second too long, which allowed Fareed to drive his shin across the back
of her calf, sweeping her foot out from under her. She fell hard on her back as
the adrenaline-crazed man sprung on top of her. She blocked his volley of
punches then drove the pommel of her blade into his floating ribs until they
snapped. As Fareed recoiled, she reversed the grip and drove the knife into his
heart, hearing the blade break on a section of sternum, then shoved him back
onto the pavement. Quickly bolting to her feet, she went over to the writhing
figure whose lips flowed with arterial blood.

“I should’ve done this to begin with,” she
said.

Dev felt the back of her right arm sear
with pain as a pistol round grazed her skin. Instinctively she pivoted and ran for
cover towards Fareed’s car as more rounds zinged past her head from Ritter’s
gun. The old man had turned his weapon towards one of Fareed’s men, shooting
the heavily bearded figure in the head beside the garage door.

Dev removed her Glock and returned fire,
sending Ritter for cover towards the corner of the building. A second later,
there was automatic weapons fire emanating from outside—Anatoly had arrived
with his men, all of them doing bounding moves along the parking lot while
engaging the rest of Fareed’s guys and Ritter’s henchmen, who were fanned out
around the vehicles. She saw Ritter fire at Anatoly, who staggered slightly and
then returned the favor, driving the silver-haired man back into the alley.

Dev focused her vision and her fury on
Ritter. He couldn’t snake his way out of here and disappear. He had to be made
accountable for this atrocious plot and have his involvement publicly exposed
to bring down Aeneid. Seeing his shadow creep across the windows outside the
rear entrance, she bolted across the warehouse to intercept him. Above the
cacophony of gunfire, she heard the wail of sirens in the distance and knew the
FBI would soon change the scope of what she could do, not to mention preventing
her and her father’s team from getting away undetected.

Dev ran for the exit door, scooping up
Fareed’s bronze dagger and tucking it inside her leather belt. Leaving the
building, she saw Ritter sprinting past a gauntlet of empty wood crates as he
sped along the alley. She did a fifty-yard dash and then came to an abrupt
halt, focusing her sights on his right calf. The round she fired tore through
enough of his flesh to cause him to careen to the side into a cluster of metal
drums. When she arrived at his side, Ritter was trying to slither towards his
fallen pistol while shrieking. She kicked it away and grabbed his silver hair,
yanking his head up. How she wanted to keep pulling until the vertebrae
separated and his life slipped away. She flipped him over instead, looking into
his tan face. “It’s over. You, Monroe, Aeneid, it’s all over.”

She thought she heard him mutter something
but it was drowned out by the sound of Petra’s voice coming from her rear. She
moved up beyond Ritter so she could keep him in sight and turned towards her
colleague. Petra was heading her way with Anatoly clinging to his shoulders, a
blood stain covering the center of her father’s chest underneath his leather
jacket. She felt her insides coil up and her breathing constrict. His face was
pale and he was wheezing as the two men staggered up to her.

She glanced down at Ritter, whose grimace
had turned to a grin. Then she knelt down and viciously smacked her pistol barrel
against his forehead, knocking him out.

Dev turned back to embrace Anatoly. “Poppa,”
she whispered, using a name she hadn’t uttered since she was a little girl. He
fell into her arms and she lowered him to the ground, Petra moving off a few
feet to stand guard with his MP-5. Dev looked at the gaping wound and into her
father’s diminishing eyes, feeling her own heart fibers shredding.

“No, Poppa—you mustn’t leave now. Not now.
We’ve made it so far together. You can’t leave me now.”

Anatoly reached his hand up, brushing a
lock of brunette hair off her cheek as tears began streaming down his own. “You
are what is best in my life—always remember that. I only wish I could have been
there for you more, my beautiful daughter.”

She clutched his sagging body to her
chest, her arms trembling. “You’re here now. You’re here with me, right now—we
have so much to do in this life. So much time to be together.”

He forced out a bronchial cough, his
breathing growing shallow. “The people of the Sangar Valley will need your
help. Promise me you’ll look after them, for I could not, not like I should
have.”

Dev gave him a reassuring nod, her tears
streaming uncontrollably and her chest heaving as Anatoly slumped into her
side, his eyes closing with his last exhale.

Their white van pulled up at the rear of
the alley and one of Anatoly’s men hopped out, looking at the fallen warrior
with great sorrow etched on his face. “We have to go, the feds are almost
here.”

Dev shouted up to the sky, her tormented
yelling blocking out the shriek of sirens in the distance. “No! He can’t
leave,” she yelled up in Petra’s face as he reached down to help her. The two
men slowly lifted Anatoly and arranged his body in the van while Dev remained
frozen to the pavement. She ran up to Ritter, kicking his limp figure in the
ribs before Petra grabbed her in a bear-hug from behind and ushered her over to
the van.