Code Name: Poseidon (K19 Allied Intelligence Team One Book 3), page 3
I gripped the back of the bench, wondering if it was wise to inform Cayman now, when he was clearly beside himself.
Ares went on to say O had found the auction site on the dark web.
“Have we confirmed Bexli is on it?” I asked.
“Negative,” Ares muttered.
I was ready to explode. He’d told Cayman all that without any confirmation whatsoever that Bexli was even in danger. What was wrong with him?
I pulled out my own mobile and sent a message to both Zep and Mag, asking them to check the site.
“What kind of auction?” Cayman asked.
I grabbed his arm and led him to the bench, then sat beside him. If I hadn’t, I would’ve throttled Ares.
“What kind of auction?” Cay repeated.
I shook my head and looked up at the other man, hoping he’d get the message that now was not the time to get into this. First, Cayman needed to calm down. Ares had a different opinion.
“A high-end, sex-slave auction,” he said. “The team is working to find out more. Once we gather the necessary information, we’ll craft a mission.”
“Craft a mission? Are you fucking kidding me? We don’t have time to plan a bloody mission. We need to find her. Now!” As I feared, the information Ares had passed on only made matters worse.
“We don’t yet know if she’s on the site, Cay,” I said, shooting a second look at Ares, willing him to keep his bloody mouth shut when Cayman broke down.
“The team is waiting. Let’s return inside,” said Ares, motioning for us to follow.
“I cannot,” said Cay, shaking his head and staring at the ground.
“We’ll be in shortly,” I told Ares. Thankfully, he nodded and walked away. Seconds later, Cayman jumped up, raced over to the tree, and lost the contents of his stomach. I stood, rested my palm on his shoulder, and offered him a handkerchief when I saw him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.
Throttling wouldn’t be enough. I was ready to fucking kill Ares.
“I must rescue her. There is no other option. I must, Kai,” Cayman said, his eyes meeting mine.
“Not alone. We will find her and bring her home safely.”
“Was there anything in the brief from Oleander about where she believes these victims are being held?” Cay asked.
“I’m not certain. We can return to the house and review it in more depth.”
I could feel my friend’s agony seeping off him, but I had no idea how to make this better. I prayed we’d prove Ares’ snap judgment wrong, but my gut told me we wouldn’t.
When he walked in the opposite direction of the house, I rushed around him and grabbed his arms. “Cayman, look at me,” I begged. “You want to find Bexli? Get your arse inside and help us do it.”
He pushed me hard enough for me to stumble backwards.
“We’ll do this together, Cay,” I said after regaining my footing. “You won’t be alone. Zep, Mag, Ares—all of us—we’ll find her together. We can’t do that until we get in there and make a plan. Are you coming with me or not?”
I knew, without him saying so, he wasn’t.
I slowly walked toward the house, wanting to give Cayman privacy but fearing what he might do. When he pulled out his mobile, placed a call, then addressed his father, I left him alone.
If I were in his position, if it were Oleander I feared was in the hands of sex slave traffickers, I’d call my father too. And, like I predicted Cayman would, I’d do anything to rescue her. It wouldn’t matter that she left me six years ago or that I wasn’t as important to her as she was to me. I’d find her, then kill anyone who’d touched her.
I walked in the front door to a flurry of activity. Twenty agents from various task forces had broken into groups. When I located Ares, I walked in his direction, fists clenched.
“We’re working on locating the origin of the IP hosting the auction site,” he said before I had the chance to rip into him. “Nem and Z are trying to make contact with our source while I concentrate on logistics. The plan will be fine-tuned once we have a better idea of where the auction site originates.”
As angry as I was, Ares had taken control of the situation and had initiated action. It was exactly what needed to be done, and I found I couldn’t fault him for it. Instead, I’d get to work.
I was about to walk away, but turned around. “Did you say source?”
He nodded. “Oleander.”
Nem approached us. “She’s on her way.”
“From where?” I managed to say, even though my mouth had gone dry.
“London.” Nem looked at her watch. “She should arrive within the hour.”
4
OLEANDER
“Does your reluctance to provide information to the UN Coalition have anything to do with the Maltese task force commander?” Typhon had asked when he called earlier this morning.
He’d gotten wind of a possible connection—relationship—between Kai and me. I’d never confirmed nor denied it. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Your intransigence may result in Unit 23 being at odds with the rest of SIS. You wouldn’t want other missions compromised due to your unwillingness to cooperate.”
“Understood,” I said, sighing.
He’d ended this call the same way he did others. “Stay alive, Oleander. You’re needed here.”
A few minutes later, I received a text message saying a car service was waiting to transport me to Shere. Knowing I’d ran out of time and options, I hit upload and watched as my brief appeared on the secure server. No doubt, all hell would soon break loose, once the coalition finally had a clear image of Mithras.
Not long after I’d sent it, I received a hastily prepared response from Nemesis. In it, she explained that Bexli Fowler, who’d changed her name to Everdeen, albeit not legally, met a man, Lorenzo Moretti, in Surrey. After being promised a fashion model career in Milan, she’d blindly followed him.
My recollection of the woman was vague. I’d met her just once, when Cayman, Poseidon, and I were at Sandhurst. I remembered her being beautiful but vapid. The proverbial small-town beauty queen who would marry young and breed a slew of offspring with a man who spent every night at the pub. The one thing that surprised me was she didn’t appear to see Cayman as her ticket out of town. It was rather the opposite. My impression was he would marry her in a heartbeat if only she’d look at him with the slightest romantic interest.
In her brief, Nemesis included a photograph Bexli had taken surreptitiously. There was no question the man in it was the same person as the one in the picture I’d sent earlier. However, that proved nothing. While I was certain he was guilty of human trafficking, without evidence, there was no way to bring him to justice—other than by assassination, of course. Which meant, first, I had to find the bloody sonuvabitch.
I rested my head against the seat and closed my eyes, thankful the trip to Shere was an hour’s drive rather than anything quicker. I silently willed the driver to take his time, perhaps pick a slower route, but nothing would delay the inevitable long enough.
Sometime today, I would come face-to-face with Poseidon. If it were anyone else, I’d anticipate certain retribution, even if it was via ignoring my presence or acting as though we had never known each other. However, neither was likely. It wasn’t his style. The man I knew faced confrontations head-on. It was one of the reasons I’d left the way I did. That, coupled with his fiery temper. Not that I’d ever been on the receiving end of it. I had seen it, though. It was one of the reasons he was given his code name. Once angered, he could be unforgiving. Any attempt to mollify him would be in vain.
This was the reason I’d resisted responding to the coalition’s request for support until this morning when Typhon left me no choice.
When the driver pulled through the gates of the Trace Estate and up to the front door, the first person to greet me was Nemesis.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
I raised a brow and waited while the man unloaded my bag. “You gave me little choice, Nem.”
She shook her head. “We don’t have time for this, O. Not only do we have a viable lead on a trafficking organization, but it has become personal.”
“I’m aware,” I said, studying a chip in my fingernail polish. “Shall we continue this dialogue or get started?” Yes, I was being a bitch. I needed all the metaphoric armor I could don.
“Wilder and Wren are in there. You should join them,” she said, pointing to a closed door. “I’ll let Z know you’re here.”
In a move unlike the trained assassin I was, I entered the room and quickly closed the door behind me rather than survey my surroundings first.
“O, glad you could join us,” said Wilder, standing to greet me. “I was stunned when Wren said the two of you hadn’t yet met.”
I studied Wilder, looking for signs he was annoyed with me like Nem was, but I found none.
“It’s an honor,” I said to his wife, stepping forward to shake her hand when she stood as well.
“The pleasure is all mine. We’re glad to have you on board, Oleander.” As with her husband, I sensed no animosity in her words.
“What can I do to help?” I asked.
“We’re working to locate the origin of the IP hosting the auction site,” said Wilder.
“I can probably help narrow your search,” I offered.
When Wilder pulled out a chair beside Wren, I took it.
“The three most likely places to search are Malta, Crete, and Cyprus,” I began, pulling out my laptop and loading a map. “In that order.”
I stiffened when the door opened. From where I was seated, I could see the hallway, and anyone in my line of sight could also see me. Z and Nem entered. Cayman was right behind them, but he went in another direction when I heard someone—Poseidon—call his name. While I let out the breath I’d been holding, I had to sit on my hands to stop them from shaking. I glanced over to find Wren studying me.
I felt my cheeks heat as if I were a child who’d just been caught stealing from the candy jar. She raised a brow but, thankfully, didn’t inquire about my odd and obvious reaction.
“Thank you for coming, Oleander,” said Z. I stood when he approached. “I’ve just received confirmation that Verity is on her way as well.”
Thank goodness. I could stand some reinforcements. Alena Curran, aka Verity, had recently been tapped to join Unit 23. In the meantime, I’d heard she was assisting the Albanian task force, which, oddly, was being commanded by Magnet. Had it been up to me, I would’ve put Verity in charge.
Nemesis looked down at her mobile. “Cayman has just confirmed Bexli is listed on the auction site. Secondly, the site recently updated. Bidding opens in just under twenty-four hours.”
At the same time, my laptop pinged. “Got it!” I exclaimed, pointing to the pulsating icon on my screen when everyone in the room gathered around me. “They’re on Gozo,” I said, zooming in.
Nemesis and Wren punched in the GPS coordinates simultaneously.
When the door opened again, my shoulders tightened, but otherwise, I was able to keep myself from reacting. “Cayman,” I said when our eyes met.
“Oleander.” His expression, his whole demeanor, was astonishingly unlike it had been the last time I saw him. I studied him while Nem brought him up to speed.
I’d gotten lost in thought, tuning her out since what she told him was old news to me. However, I raised my head when I heard her say, “The shell corp listed as the owner—AMPS Incorporated—is registered in Mauritius.”
While this wasn’t news to me, I hadn’t realized anyone else in the room was aware of it.
“Oleander?” Nem said to me.
“Right.” I motioned toward the screen and zoomed in. “We believe this villa is the exact location of the IP’s origin.”
When the door opened again, I didn’t need to look. I felt Poseidon walk into the room. I could also sense him looking at me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ares, who’d accompanied him, set his laptop next to Nem’s on the table.
“Gentlemen, what have you got for us?” she asked.
“These are from the overheads,” said Poseidon when Ares zoomed in on a man exiting a vehicle.
From where I sat, I couldn’t see the laptop screen clearly enough, so I stood, keeping my eyes focused only on the computer, and peered over Cayman’s shoulder.
“That’s him,” I said, leaning in to study the blurry image.
“I counted eleven bodyguard-types,” Poseidon added. “All appear heavily armed.”
I couldn’t resist another moment. When my eyes met Poseidon’s, it was as though everything else in the room faded into a blur. People were speaking, but I couldn’t hear their words.
Kai Allora was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Ever known. Achingly gorgeous. In the years since I last saw him, he’d only gotten more so. His pouty, sultry lips were framed by an extended goatee that he must trim daily for it to look as perfect as it did. His hair, so much longer than it had been six years ago, hung past his shoulders in soft waves, and his eyes—their darkness boring into me—nearly brought me to my knees.
I looked down the length of him at how his body had matured. He looked rugged, bigger, more powerful, with broader shoulders and more defined pecs and arms. My gaze rested on the corded muscles of his neck and the hollow of his throat, visible beneath the unfastened buttons of the white dress shirt he wore.
When I raised my eyes, his didn’t waver. His blank expression unnerved me. It was almost as though he looked right through me. As if I wasn’t there.
I turned away then, staring instead at the images of the area surrounding the villa that Ares clicked through on the screen.
Outside the property’s boundaries and within a hundred meters of where the forest met the ocean, there was a row of multi-level apartment buildings. The remainder of the perimeter was bordered by a dense thicket on one side and, on the other, by the sea.
When yet another aerial view came on the screen, Poseidon stepped forward, back into my line of sight. “The western side of the estate borders the road leading to Wied il-Mielaħ.” The photo of the limestone arch reminded me of the formations in Australia known as the Twelve Apostles.
“Do you believe this is where we’ll find Bexli?” Cayman asked.
Poseidon turned to him, and his expression softened. “I do.”
Ares pointed to the lower right corner of a schematic that replaced the photograph. “According to this, the villa was originally designed to be a convent, which explains the number of bedrooms you see on the second and third floors.”
He pressed a button on the remote to split the screen, and another image appeared beside the drawing.
Ares zoomed in. “As you can see, the windows of the upper rooms are covered by bars while those on the lower level are not.”
Between the bars and the cold-looking stone facade, the place looked like the prison it was.
“If what we saw on the dark website is any indication, I estimate there may be as many as twenty victims being held here in advance of the auction,” said Ares.
“I’ve arranged for reinforcements from MI5. The three I requested are ready to deploy as soon as they receive orders. Oh, and Verity, who’s just arrived,” said Puck, entering the room.
“Let’s talk about teams,” said Ares. “I have three guys on their way who are former CIA Special Activities Division agents.” Some—not me—considered SAD on par with Unit 23.
“My three are already on the ground in Malta,” said Poseidon.
Ares nodded. “What about triage?”
“Two physician’s assistants and two medics are en route to Gozo as we speak. They’re transporting medical supplies,” said Magnet.
“Copy that,” said Ares. “Let’s run through logistics one more time.”
“Not knowing the number of victims, where exactly they’re being held, nor the mandate those guarding them have been given, the entirety of the rescue op must be conducted in stealth mode,” I said, finally feeling as though I’d recovered my voice. “And, as a reminder, our number-one goal is to rescue Bexli Fowler.”
“Everdeen,” said Cayman.
“I’m sorry?”
“Bexli changed her name to Everdeen. Not legally,” he added.
I knew that, but had forgotten. “My apologies.”
“Based on the overheads, we’ll outnumber them almost two-to-one,” said Ares. “Our friends at the US National Reconnaissance Office are gathering additional detailed images since we’ve confirmed the location as an official target.”
I listened as each of the task force commanders ran down their action plan.
Just as they finished, Verity entered the room and handed me something.
I looked over her notes and raised my head. “There’s another matter we need to discuss.” I motioned for Verity to hand out an additional brief. “I’ve received intel leading us to believe Mithras is not the head of the organization staging the auction. As with the man himself, we have very little to go on in regard to his boss, other than a name—Pharaoh. Initially, we believed it was another of Mithras’ aliases. Now, we have reason to believe it may not be.” I turned to Verity, who cleared her throat.
“There were a series of deposits to a Mauritian account belonging to the same shell corp that owns the Maltese property—AMPS Incorporated. It appears there are three entities with access to the funds. There have been weekly transactions involving deposits, immediately followed by transfers to other accounts.”
“Also privately held?” Cayman asked.
“We’re working on obtaining record access now,” I responded.
He looked between Verity and me. “But you believe they’re owned by Pharaoh and Mithras?”
She nodded.
“Who, then, is ‘A,’ or is it ‘S’ we’re looking for?”
I understood Cayman’s short temper, particularly about a subject that, over the years, had threatened to drive me into madness. I hated to admit it out loud, but I had to. “I’m afraid we don’t know.”
