Andrea looked at the screen on her phone, instantly alarmed when she saw the number was blocked. She answered it, her concern heightening when she heard the familiar irritated voice on the other end of the line.
“We have a problem. The Saint Squad is flying out of Canaima today.”
“How did they manage that? They were dropped off where there’s no access, and Morenta said his men killed them all.”
“Obviously they survived, and there was better access than you thought. This whole plan isn’t going to work if Vanessa Johnson knows her husband is safe.”
“Then we’ll have to change his circumstances,” she said.
The voice turned harsh. “See that you do.”
* * *
Seth didn’t like this. He didn’t like the complete absence of intelligence, the lack of knowledge about the motivation behind whatever was at work against Vanessa. He needed to put the pieces of the puzzle together, to understand them so he could keep his wife safe. He also worried that he had yet to receive a response to the e-mail he’d sent last night.
The breakdown in communication they had experienced was beyond frustrating, not only the sabotaged comm gear his squad had received but also his inability to talk to Vanessa. Whoever had dumped them in Canaima had done their research. Without a satellite phone, the only means of communication was through the outdated Internet service or the hotel phone systems. Not only were the phones not secure, but they also weren’t private.
The one positive about Canaima was the complete lack of security at the small rural airport. Since air travel was the only way into the park, the airport didn’t worry about checking identifications of those flying out.
Since he had been able to purchase his travel all the way through to Maracaibo, he was also able to bypass security in the Caracas airport. Surveillance cameras had been easy enough to avoid when he had moved from one gate to another. Hopefully he could remain unnoticed now that he had arrived at his destination.
His height alone typically caused people to take notice of him, but he tried to stick with the crowds.
He deliberately stayed to the far side of the hall when he exited by the security checkpoint. He had given his assault rifle to Damian in Canaima, but he had kept his sidearm with him, unwilling to travel unarmed, especially knowing he wouldn’t have to go through a full security check.
Staying close to the wall, he took the time to circle to the far exit so he could hail a taxi. He saw a policeman wander in the same direction he was heading, and Seth decided it was a great time to check his shoelaces.
He leaned down, retying the left one, his eyes still tracking the cop. When he stood, the person who had been behind him bumped into him.
“Siento,” Seth mumbled, using some of his limited Spanish to try to blend in.
“I’m sure you are,” a man responded in English.
Seth turned halfway around, but that was as far as he got before he felt a sharp pinch in his arm. The room went dark, and his muscles went lax as he dropped to the floor.
* * *
The courier hadn’t moved from Morenta’s villa in Cali. That fact alone unsettled Vanessa. Why would Morenta need more than one courier? If there really was going to be an exchange today, the courier would have been on a plane hours ago.
Also, why hadn’t her backup ever shown up? The question rattled through her head, and an uncomfortable possibility wound its way into her brain. For years, she had trusted Warren above all others within the agency. He had been the one to send her undercover in Akil Ramir’s organization. He had ultimately been the person to send the Saint Squad in after her when her handler had suffered a heart attack.
Now she questioned why she was here and how information only he had been privy to seemed to keep falling into the wrong hands. Of all people, Warren would know the only thing that could possibly bring her back into the field was a threat against her husband.
With his position in the agency, he would have access to military personnel. He could easily have facilitated the rappelling “accident” and the wrong coordinates for dropping off her husband’s squad. But why?
She needed to leave for the bank in a matter of minutes, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Warren had given her a second opportunity to meet her backup, and again, the guy hadn’t shown. She supposed it was possible that it was her contact who was messing up rather than Warren, but she found herself afraid to trust anyone in the CIA right now.
Needing someone to brainstorm with, she turned her phone on with the intent of calling Kel. She saw the indicator that she’d received a message and opened it. Gratitude and relief flooded through her. Seth was safe. She let it sink in for a minute before she dialed the phone and called Kel to pass along the news.
She then confided in him her suspicions.
“Don’t go to the bank, Vanessa,” Kel insisted. “The only intel you have is unreliable, and you can’t be sure it isn’t a trap. Wait until the squad catches up with you. We can always track the courier and set something up when we have adequate personnel in place.”
“I hate to let this possibility go, but I think you’re right. I don’t like this whole situation. If Warren is involved, he would have to know I would be suspicious by now.”
“I agree. Wait for Seth to come to you. When we know everyone is safe, we’ll figure out a plan of attack,” Kel promised. “In the meantime, I’ll have Amy coordinate with the squad of SEALs I have on standby aboard the Truman. They’ll figure out how to get you all out of Venezuela.”
“I would appreciate that. I’m sure all of us are ready to go home.”
* * *
Jay landed the borrowed helicopter near Lake Maracaibo, several miles away from the city. Eager to clear the area so they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves, the Saint Squad and Paige hiked two miles in silence before Damian suggested another mode of transportation. “Brent, how would you feel about me calling my uncle for a ride?”
“I don’t know about involving your family, especially at seven in the morning,” Brent said.
“We can trust my uncle,” Damian said. Unlike his uncle who drank himself to death, this particular uncle had always demonstrated a well of integrity and faith. He lowered his voice and added, “Paige can’t keep up this pace much longer, and we can’t leave her behind.”
“I don’t want anyone to know where we’re staying.”
“I’ll have him drop us off somewhere else, and we can take taxis from there,” Damian suggested.
“Okay,” Brent relented. “Make your call.”
Damian called his uncle, giving a brief explanation of why he hadn’t let him know he was in town and then asking him to meet him a short distance away. Fifteen minutes later, he and Paige slid into the cab and the rest of the squad climbed into the bed of his truck.
“Uncle Fernando, this is my girlfriend,” Damian said in Spanish, not giving her name so he wouldn’t have to choose between her real name and the alias she was currently traveling under. “Thanks so much for picking us up. We had some engine trouble a ways back.”
“Anything for family.” He looked speculatively at Paige. “Your girlfriend. She doesn’t speak Spanish?”
“Not much.”
“You’ll teach her,” Fernando said confidently. “Now, who are these men in the back of my truck, and where am I taking you?”
Damian saw his uncle’s uneasy glance over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. They’re friends.” He gave Fernando the name of a hotel on the way to his uncle’s home. After his uncle dropped them off, Damian promised to visit him later and said his good-byes. When he turned to Brent, he said, “I think we should split up. We’ll be harder to find that way.”
Brent nodded in agreement. “Quinn, you and Tristan stick together. I’ll go with Damian and Paige. Switch cabs a couple times to make sure none of us are being followed.”
“Where’s our final destination?” Quinn asked.
Damian rattled off the address. “Whoever gets there first can hang out in the restaurant downstairs. There’s a bar area in sight of the front entrance. Then we can all meet upstairs on the fourth floor.”
“See you there.” Quinn and Tristan started down the street, waiting until they were a block away before Quinn raised a hand to hail a cab. As soon as they were safely on their way, Brent flagged down another taxi.
Paige slid into the middle of the backseat, with Damian on her left and Brent on her right. A moment later, the taxi was headed toward the hotel.
* * *
“What do you mean Seth isn’t here?” Damian asked. When they had abandoned their helicopter, he had thought their biggest challenge of the day would be to make it back to the hotel without being followed. Now they were standing in the hotel suite with Vanessa only to find Seth hadn’t arrived yet. He sensed Vanessa’s concern but couldn’t bring himself to hide his own worry. “He should have been here last night.”
Vanessa’s face paled, but her voice was rigid. “Why wasn’t he with you?”
“He was worried we wouldn’t get back before you were supposed to go to the bank. He wanted to stop you or at least make sure he was here to back you up in case you didn’t get his e-mail.”
“Maybe his flight was canceled or delayed,” Vanessa said hopefully.
“It’s possible. He would have had to connect through Caracas.”
“I’ll check,” Tristan offered. A few seconds passed. His voice was edgy when he gave them the news. “His flight was late, but he still should have been here seven or eight hours ago.”
Brent put a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder, but he looked at Tristan. “See if there’s any way to tap into the surveillance video for the Caracas and Maracaibo airports.”
“Maybe he was being followed and didn’t want to take a chance of leading anyone back here,” Vanessa said.
For the next two hours, they utilized their various resources to search for Seth. Damian tried to help Quinn and Tristan access the surveillance video feed, and Brent contacted Amy and Kel to have them join in the search.
Tristan was the first to access the videos. All of them split up the possibilities, no one finding any sign of Seth.
“Maybe he didn’t get out of Canaima. He could have gotten detained,” Brent said.
“He didn’t have identification on him,” Tristan said.
“And he kept his sidearm with him,” Jay added. “Either of those things would have flagged him if the airport had more security than he expected.”
Hours crept by. The tension in the room continued to rise, the chatter between them limited to direct questions and answers. Paige quietly left to get everyone food at lunchtime and again when it was time for dinner.
Vanessa barely managed to eat anything, worry consuming her. When the proximity alarm sounded on her tablet, she automatically silenced it. The only surveillance equipment she had activated since arriving had been stolen from her first hotel room.
The alarm sounded a second time, and she nearly turned it off again. Then her thoughts caught up with reality. The hidden camera hadn’t been destroyed. It had been turned off.
Quickly, she picked up her tablet again and accessed the surveillance program.
Her breath backed up in her lungs, her chest tightening painfully as she stared at the image on the screen. She blinked hard against the tears that threatened.
Paige was the first to notice the extreme change in her expression. “Vanessa, what’s wrong?”
She couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. She held up the tablet to show an image to the rest of the group. Blindfolded, with his hands bound in front of him, her husband lay in a heap on a concrete floor.