WHAT WAS IT with these people and boats? Nick shuddered in his wet suit, hunched down in a shipping yard after his swim to shore. The workers had long since gone home for the day. The scent of fish and trash wafted his way in the still night. From what he understood, the meeting had taken place, and the takedown was only minutes away. Or at least he hoped so. Something didn’t feel right.
Janus and her boss were supposed to rendezvous back on his yacht after the meeting. But first they would show proof of weapons to the Iranian liaison, proof that remained hidden in the warehouse where Nick, Micah, Titus, and Colt crouched. Nick’s job was to secure the weapons, but so far they weren’t sure which set of crates contained the right shipment.
Row upon row of crates filled with machine parts and delivery items sat in the dank, dark warehouse. Nick shuffled from station to station, checking the arrival date and location. At this rate he might as well wait for Janus to point him to the right shipment, something that was highly unlikely.
A rusty door slid open, and voices sounded in Arabic. The team stilled, fading into the shadows with barely a sound. Nick hunkered behind boxes, readying his gun in case an “imminent threat” arose—the two words that always stood out in their briefs.
Titus breathed over his microphone. “They’re discussing the weather. This isn’t helpful. Sure we have the right rendezvous?”
Nick gazed through his scope, his eyes stilling on a slight woman, blonde hair, icy blue eyes, immaculate clothes, and gloved hands. His pulse accelerated. He recognized her. Only now her hair was shorter, her eyes icier, her expression determined, hostile. No longer sweet and inviting. No longer matronly. Cathryn.
“That’s Kaylan’s neighbor,” he breathed. No time to process that. At least now they knew where she had been getting her information.
“I’ve got eyes on the Kahuna,” Bulldog whispered over the radio. They would finally have a picture to help with a name.
Nick analyzed the man approaching his hiding place—tall with a pudgy belly, glasses on his nose, and graying brown hair. His angular facial features were classic Eastern European. Nick froze.
“We’ve got a problem. That’s Sasha Baryshev, one of the biggest oil moguls in Russia and nearly untouchable because of his influence in government. Taking him would be a political nightmare. We may need to stick to intel here.”
“Stick to the plan, Hawk. Capture only. We’ll let the guys back in DC deal with the political red tape. At least we have a name and identification,” X whispered over the intercom. Nick knew Jay would radio it back to HQ from his overwatch position nearby.
The three targets stopped near Nick’s hiding place. He could hear the Arabic cadence and watched as Sasha gestured to a large crate in front of them.
“Seven males incoming. Look to be European. All armed,” Titus warned, his voice remaining as bland as if he were commenting on the weather. Nick smirked. Sometimes he wondered if they were trained too well.
“They’re blocking the entrances,” Micah muttered.
Nick’s finger hovered near the trigger, ready to respond if things escalated. Two of the goonies walked forward with crowbars and attacked the crate with gusto. Built like tanks, the men tore the top off with ease, revealing a layer of multicolored silk scarves resting on straw.
Sasha leaned forward and brushed aside the layers, and Nick caught a glimpse of AK-47s and RPGs.
Titus swore over his intercom, and Nick tensed. “Sasha is telling the Iranian he can get him uranium for a nuclear warhead if the price is right. They are negotiating a meeting next month. This shipment is chump change. They met to discuss a bomb.”
Colt’s deep voice hissed in Nick’s ear. “Trouble on my six. Might have to step this up.”
Nick heard shouting in Russian and shots fired just as all hell broke loose. “Grenade!” Colt shouted as an explosion rocked the air a hundred feet from where Nick crouched, shattering crates and boxes in its wake. Nick ducked, trying to keep his eyes on their three targets, but they’d slipped away in the chaos.
“Colt?”
“Fine. Go!”
Nick left his position and took off in pursuit of the three targets, radioing his plans as he ran.
A man stepped out in front of him, the barrel of his gun coming even with Nick’s chest. Nick couldn’t slow down. He slammed into him, grunting with the impact. The gun fired into the air. Twisting free, Nick aimed and fired, sending the man sprawling backward. He paused long enough to confirm the fight was over before he took off again.
“Right behind you, Hawk.” Nick heard Micah’s feet pounding in perfect rhythm behind him as the rest of the team secured the warehouse while the two of them pursued Janus. He didn’t care about anyone else. Just catching her, ending the threats, the worry. Ending her career and reign of terror. Ending, or at least slowing, the slaughter of American soldiers fighting on foreign soil.
They spilled out the door into an industrial shipyard hugging the bank of a water channel that flowed out into the Black Sea. Nothing moved, and he and Micah slipped back into the shadows, guns ready, their black wet suits blending into the night.
A crane hovered above Nick’s head and smaller boats with glowing lights sat silent, their owners in bed. A shot pinged the building behind his head. He ducked, and his senses sharpened. He scanned the dimness to determine direction. Another shot whizzed past, and Micah inhaled sharply. Nick shifted to look at his best friend. Micah’s wet suit hung split open, and a slim gash bled from where the bullet grazed his arm before embedding in the side of the warehouse.
“I’m good. Keep moving.”
Another shot hit the building. Either the person lacked marksmanship or he was shooting blind. This time Nick guessed the direction to be an old industrial fishing boat of some sort about one hundred yards to their right. He signaled to Micah to go around the side while he slipped up onto the deck.
A click sounded over the radio as Colt slithered into view, rounding the boat and disappearing to cover the other side. Three-on-three. Nick liked their odds. He was thankful for more men on this mission taking care of the rest of the guys inside the warehouse. But right now all he cared about was Janus. He wasn’t sure who fired at them or if the other two lay in wait or fled the scene. But he swore that at least one of them would fly back to California with his team. And he knew which one he wanted.
He crept across the deck, his footfalls silent in the murky night. The moon hid behind clouds, the light muted for a moment. He scanned the deck. A small figure shifted, leaning over the railing, gun aimed and trained.
“Do svidaniya.” She whispered just as Micah entered her line of sight. Nick reacted and launched himself forward, regretting his directive to capture and not kill. Her shot went wild. Micah yelled over the intercom.
Nick tackled the slight frame, rolling on the deck in a mess of arms and legs. Blonde hair tangled in his fingers, obscuring his view of Janus’s face. Although she was wiry and strong, he heard a slight wheeze in her breathing. Taking advantage of the weakness, he punched her in the stomach, enough to stall her breathing for a moment, then flipped her over and bound her hands behind her back with lightning movements.
Nick’s breathing slowed as he radioed his team. “Female jackpot apprehended on fishing boat near warehouse. Radio HQ. Any sign of the other two?”
“None, Hawk. Searching now,” Titus’s voice sounded over the intercom.
“Coming up, Hawk.” Micah pulled himself up just as Janus regained her breath.
“We’re going to take a little trip, Janus. I hear you’ve taken a liking to my town.”
“It suffices if you like tacky American culture.”
“What I like is you staying away from my girlfriend. What I like is you in American hands.”
She squirmed beneath him. In one swift movement he stood, hauling her to her feet.
“But the games were so fun. And you are so gullible. Face it, little SEAL. I infiltrated your world all too easily, and you could do nothing to stop me.”
Nick towered over her, his temper fighting his good sense.
“I should have shot you when I had the chance.” He grabbed her arm and tugged her with him.
“The game’s not over yet.”
Micah stalled next to Nick, studying their adversary. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. The game does not end until I say it does.” Her eerie chuckle turned to coughing as she doubled over.
Nick gritted his teeth, unsure what to do. Colt radioed that the Iranian and Big Kahuna were gone. Jay responded with confirmation that the sniper and remaining men in the warehouse had been taken care of. The helicopter would pick them up in five minutes.
Despite the victory chatter in his ear, Nick could only focus on Janus. His head spun. “You’re crazy.”
“What you call crazy, others call brilliant. It is all a matter of perception, is it not?” she wheezed, a smirk twisting her lips. Gone was the polite, affluent, proper neighbor. Instead, a calculated, cold-blooded killer stood before him.
Micah grabbed Janus’s arm and hauled her from the boat. “Listen, lady, I’ve had about enough of you, your games, and your threats to my family. I don’t care if they lock you up and throw away the key. You are getting on that helicopter. You lost, you got that?”
Between the two of them they half-carried, half-dragged Janus to a waiting helicopter, hovering above an empty dock. Colt and Titus pulled her in as Micah and Nick jumped on.
“I expect we are flying home?” All eyes turned to Janus, who stared back with icy blue eyes, her cherry red lipstick still perfectly painted on thin lips that grinned triumphantly. “Perfect. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Nick’s heart stalled. He had a sinking feeling that Janus spoke the truth. This game wasn’t over yet.