Zack (In the Company of Snipers Book 3) Read online

  “Sure. I’ll get Tiki. She’s smart.”

  “I’ve got to get moving.” Zack glanced at his friend. “You’re welcome to stay, but I might be gone awhile. Keep the place halfway clean, will ya? Lock up when you leave.”

  “How long?”

  Zack slung his towel over the shower door before stepping inside. “Don’t know. It’s a combined effort with a lot of feds–DEA, FBI, ATF, and a few others.”

  “’Kay,” Jake muttered on his way out of the bathroom.

  Zack lingered in the shower as long as he dared, which wasn’t long. After a quick toweling, he paused to look at himself in the mirror, trying to see what it was women saw. Besides the mocha-colored skin he’d been blessed with from his Jamaican father and his beautiful, green-eyed Irish mother, he didn’t see much special.

  His nose was crooked from flying over the handlebars of his bike while still in training wheels. It should have taught him to slow down. It didn’t. A small curved scar on his chin testified that flying a Humvee over an Iraqi sand dune was not the smartest idea, especially when the top-heavy rig rolled. Speed always enticed him. Life was meant to be lived fast and hard. So far, so good.

  He flexed one arm, proud of the rippling effect the taut bicep had over the rest of his upper body. He didn’t do steroids, but when he flexed into one of those weightlifter-type power stances, it looked like maybe he used. Truth was, he didn’t have to. Genetics supplied the basics; he’d supplemented with a steady bodybuilding program and, voila. There stood the man in the mirror he was today.

  Time to roll. By the time he exited the bathroom with the towel once again snug on his hips, Jake had left a cup of coffee on the counter, already doctored with enough creamer and sugar. The debris from the living room was picked up. Two full garbage bags stood at the front door on their way to the dumpster. The quiet words of another opera reverberated tragically from the back bedroom. Poor Jake. Still singing his heart away.

  Zack took a long pull on the hot drink. The shower and caffeine energized the day. He sneaked back into his bedroom, grabbed his clean clothes, and tiptoed out like the coward he usually wasn’t. The stakeout with Senior Agent David Tao began in less than two hours. Zack didn’t have time for female drama.

  Back in his living room, he dropped the towel and threw on his uniform for the day, cammie trousers with a black polo where The TEAM’s gold logo sat like a small badge high on his chest. He liked his job more than women and speed. That said it all.

  Pulling his rifle and handgun out of the gun safe inside his entry closet, he secured them with his gear bag, grabbed the garbage bags, and scrambled out the door with an extra quick step. Just in time. She was up. Jake was going to earn his keep today. His buddy would see the lady back to her car, and Zack would be free to browse the local feminine persuasion whenever he liked.

  That’s what good friends were for.

  TWO

  “I already told you. She was wearing a navy blue checkered uniform.”

  “Okay, ma’am,” Detective Frank Bastion said for the umpteenth time. “Take it easy. Let’s go over everything again.”

  “No. I’m tired of going over the same questions and repeating the same answers. You need to be out there looking for my daughter.” Mei pushed a hand through her hair, ending with a fistful she wanted to tear out.

  The police had arrived quickly after LiLi’s abduction, but then these detectives showed up in their fancy business suits and ties. They seemed more interested in every last piece of her personal life than chasing down her missing child.

  She sat at her kitchen table, LiLi’s favorite soup long forgotten. Back-to-school night, too. Detective Bart Crowder kept walking through her home like he was looking for clues that weren’t there. These guys were no help. In fact, they were holding her back. If they wouldn’t do it, then she needed to be on the streets looking. Searching. Doing anything but sitting around and answering the same stupid questions.

  “Trust me. We’re doing everything we can.” Detective Bastion placed a consoling hand on her wrist as Crowder came to sit with them. “We’re already running an AMBER Alert, and half the precinct is out there looking for her. Don’t you worry. We’ll find her.”

  “How?” She pulled away from his creepy touch. How could he sound so sure? Did he think she was stupid? She’d believe just because he said to? Tears flooded her vision again. She wiped her face and grabbed her sweater off the chair. “Shut the door when you leave.”

  “You shouldn’t go anywhere.” Detective Crowder jumped to his feet. “Is there anyone who can stay with you?”

  She shook her head. Her parents lived in Sacramento. How could she call them with such awful news? They were ill, her father with cancer and her mother with diabetes. A call like this would only hurt them. She’d distanced herself from anything resembling a social life for so long there was no one else to call. Her world revolved around LiLi. Despair knifed her heart again. In the blink of an eye, her world was gone.

  “Why should I stay here?” she asked.

  A look passed between the men. She caught a subtle nod from Crowder to Bastion.

  “Never mind. We’ll be leaving.” Bastion reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “If you do hear from anyone, be sure to contact us.”

  She stood at the door to her empty apartment and watched them walk toward the elevator, half-wishing they’d stayed and half-glad to see them go. Not once had these two public servants asked about the possibility of a ransom. They made no attempt to hook her house phone up to any of the fancy listening equipment like police do in the movies in case the kidnappers called. All they wanted to know was where she worked. Who was she seeing? How did she spend her time?

  Sticking the detective’s business card into her sweater pocket, she turned and screamed to her empty apartment. “Then what? If I hear from anyone, then what?”

  All the worst what-if scenarios flashed to her mind. The kidnappers hadn’t stolen LiLi for ransom. No. That’s what the nod must have been about. She wasn’t rich or important enough. They’d wasted enough time. Her strength fled at the awful truth. Whoever had kidnapped LiLi wanted her for something besides ransom.

  With renewed determination, she snapped her television on and knelt in front of it. At least she had the AMBER Alert. Minutes ticked by. She scrolled through the local channels, despair clutching her throat. Back and forth she went from national news to local, praying for the picture that would announce LiLi’s kidnapping. That seemed her only hope. Someone was sure to see. The bus driver had given the police and detectives the license plate number. Wouldn’t all the police be on the lookout for a missing little girl? Didn’t anyone care?

  But normal programming offered no relief. No child-missing alert interrupted any channel. Why was there nothing on LiLi? Mei pulled Detective Bastion’s business card from her sweater pocket, rage pounding in her head.

  She needed a new phone, damn it! Her old one clicked while it rang, heaping frustration onto despair.

  “Detective Bastion,” he answered casually.

  “Where’s the AMBER Alert on LiLi?” she demanded without any introduction. He knew who she was.

  “Oh? Isn’t it airing yet? Guess I’ll have to check for you.”

  “Do it now,” she ordered. The last thing she needed was another liar in her life. Her number one rule was dead right. She didn’t need men.

  “Yes, ma’am. I will. Is there anything else? Has anyone called?”

  “Why would they?” she bit out. He knew better. The nonchalance in his tone confirmed what she already suspected. Bastion and Crowder were useless. Only doing their jobs.

  “Just asking, ma’am.” He hung up and proved it.

  I. Don’t. Need. Men!

  Mei jumped to her feet, turned out the lights and locked the door behind her.

  “Mommy’s coming.”

  Easiest stakeout ever.

  Zack watched the blue cargo van pull to the curb from his sec
ond story vantage point. David had left to check on their additional array of high-tech video cameras and parabolic listening ears. For the last four weeks, Zack and his senior agent had kept close track of Vincent ‘Vinnie’ Espinosa, best known as the hitman for Dominic ‘Dom’ Debargio, a local crime boss. Together, these two arrogant gangsters had gotten national law enforcement’s attention through drug trafficking, extortion, and murder. This particular stakeout was huge. All the letters of the alphabet were engaged–ATF, FBI, DHS. Even the IRS wanted a piece of the action.

  Espinosa’s alleged hideout was headquartered out of the derelict apartment across the street, the target of Zack and David’s numerous video cameras and high-tech ears. All they had to do was observe and document. It was boring, tedious work, but after four weeks of court approved wire-tapping and video surveillance, they’d accumulated enough evidence to bring Vinnie down, along with his boss and a few locals. Federal Marshalls were expected within the hour with search and seizure warrants. All Zack had to do was keep an eye on the target. That’s all. No problem there. He let the video camera do its thing.

  The van was the only thing of interest on the street. It looked like a relic left over from the seventies, a definite five o’clock shadow of rust along its lower edge. The color of the driver’s side door did not match the rest of the vehicle. Something about turquoise and navy blue hand-brushed over automotive decay did not make for a sharp looking ride.

  Two gangster types scrambled out, grabbed a couple of duffel bags from the back of the van, and headed for the derelict apartment building–mobster Vinnie Espinosa’s hideout. They didn’t appear suspicious. Who cared what they did? Not Zack. These guys were simply more of the same wannabees–all of ’em losers.

  The guns in these young men’s baggy pants weren’t hidden. Again–who cared? Not my problem. Weapons in the duffle bags? Drugs? Bodies? Not my problem. Keep your eyes on the target, Lennox. Be smart. ATF and FBI are en route. Sleep in your own bed tonight. Mission accomplished. Good job. Well done.

  It was a good plan–until a tiny arm flopped out between the open rear doors of the van.

  What the hell?

  Zack squinted into his computer screen, then jumped to the window to see for himself. Visions of Iraq flashed instantly to mind. The little arm hung there still as death, a fragile flag of humanity in the unlikeliest of places–a gangbanger’s pimpmobile.

  What’s a kid doing in there?

  His gut clenched.

  Don’t do it, Lennox.

  Shoulders squared.

  There will be hell to pay.

  He unholstered the Ruger on his right thigh.

  So what?

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he ran straight to the van. When he pulled the creaky tailgate all the way open, memories from another time on the other side of the world assaulted him once more. A tiny Asian girl lay crumpled on her side, her cheek pressed to the metal floor of the wreck. Fragile and pale, she couldn’t have been more than six. Dressed in nothing but an orange silk dress, her skimpy clothing was too light for the chill of the late November day.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked the unconscious child, knowing full well she couldn’t hear him. He didn’t care. One thing was sure. These guys had no business with the girl. He lifted her from the floor of the van, cradling her to his knee while he watched his back. Unzipping his jacket, he tucked her inside, feeling her neck for a pulse as he pulled the jacket tighter.

  “You poor baby. You’re damned near froze to death,” he muttered when her chilled body met the warmth of his. A weak pulse fluttered under his fingertips. Reaching for her hands, he lifted both to his mouth, breathing heat onto icy fingers. “Come on, baby. Stay with me. Cry or something. Holler. Get mad. Get mad as hell.”

  She didn’t, but he was.

  A door slammed open behind him. Those losers were back. The gangbangers strolled onto the sidewalk, arguing over which of them got to hang onto the loot. They hadn’t noticed him–yet. The open back doors of their ride concealed him, but Zack had a feeling he was holding their loot. Trouble was headed his way. Big time. He ducked, zipping the girl tight inside his jacket while he hefted his Ruger. There’d be no discussion today. He was keeping this baby.

  “David,” he whispered into his earpiece. “I’m in the street. Need you here, like right damned now.”

  “You’re what?” David’s voice cracked with disbelief.

  “Hurry it up. I’m running out of time down here. Out front. Step on it. Now.”

  “On my way.” David must’ve been close. He charged onto the street as the hoodlums climbed into the van. Too late. Zack had just been made.

  “Hey! You!” one of the men roared over the front seat. “What are you doing with my stuff?”

  “He’s got the girl,” the other bellowed. “Get ’em!”

  A rain of automatic gunfire blasted through the van. Windows shattered, sending a shower of safety glass over Zack. He sheltered the child. The engine roared to life, coughing noxious fumes from its tailpipe. Rolling to his side, he offered his back to shield the girl while David returned steady fire from the sidewalk.

  “There’s two of ’em! Get us outta here,” one hoodlum screamed. “Move it.”

  The van peeled away from the curb in a cloud of smoking rubber and squealing wheels.

  “Zack.” David ran to his side. “What have you done?”

  Zack was already on his cell. “Listen Boss, we got a problem. A really big problem.”

  THREE

  “You call this an audit trail?” Putting every ounce of venom she could into her nasty fake-FBI persona, Mei tossed the stack of manila-colored folders across the Washington Metro Police Department technician’s desk to emphasize her disgust. “You haven’t located half of the information I requested. What kind of department are you running here, anyway?”

  The poor woman on the receiving end cringed. Mei almost felt sorry for Kathleen Crawford. One look at her carefully crafted but false FBI ID badge and the Assistant Chief of Police had all but dumped Mei on the hapless technician. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  “If you’d come back tomorrow, my boss will be able to help better than I can.” Kathleen’s voice came out high-pitched and raspy, like her vocal cords had all but dried up in the back of her throat. “I must’ve made a mistake. I’ve only been here a month. Could you tell me what you’re looking for one more time?”

  “Maybe you oughta write it down.” Mei exuded exasperation. She had to be tough. The day shift supervisor would have never let her in. The thought of all the laws she was breaking rattled her confidence. It couldn’t be helped. She didn’t care even if it could. After four weeks of single-handedly searching for LiLi, she was willing to do whatever it took. “You’re supposed to be able to withstand an audit at any time of day, not just when your boss is on shift.”

  She poured it on. Subterfuge only worked when her targets were intimidated. Ms. Crawford looked plenty scared. Good. The more you quiver and shake, the quicker I can get out of here.

  “Agent Xing. Please. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware you had an appointment.” Kathleen brushed slight beads of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. “But she’s really the one you should talk with. She knows a lot more than me. It stands to reason—”

  “Fine. My report will show you failed to provide requested information to the FBI. I’m fine with that. Hope your supervisor is. It’ll be your name on the line, not mine.” Mei opened her laptop with a snap. Sitting at Kathleen’s desk, she prepared to record her findings, hoping she looked like the ruthless oriental queen she intended. “Should I enter it as lack of ability? Inadequate training of personnel on shift? Failure to cooperate? How long do you think it will take to fix your problem, Ms. Crawford?”

  She drew out the poor woman’s name with plenty of sarcasm, intending to elicit the exact panic attack an inexperienced employee might have when faced with the possible loss of her job. Her instincts were dead
on. Kathleen looked like she was having a stroke, complete with heart palpitations, hot flashes, and hyperventilation thrown in for good measure. If she licked her lips anymore, they would dry up and blow away.

  “Listen. J-j-just l-l-listen. I don’t think there’s a problem. Like I said, I’m new here. Tell me one more time, and I’ll—”

  “I don’t have time to waste. If you aren’t capable, that’s all I need to know.” Mei waved her hand dismissively. “Now leave me alone. Let me finish my findings. It’s unfortunate. It’s not a difficult system to query. Even I could do it.”

  “What if...?” Kathleen huffed a huge sigh, relief showing for the first time at the tantalizing offer Mei had dangled in front of her nose. “What if you showed me how to do it? Umm, if you could run a simple query, I’m sure I could follow your logic, and—”

  “What?” Mei peered over her reading glasses. Bait and hook. The poor woman was already caught, and Mei was reeling her in. “You would compromise your password? That’s even worse than—”

  “No. No. Never.” Kathleen’s hands shook. “But I could kinda like, maybe open the system for you. Then I wouldn’t compromise my password. You’d never see it. You could run one query to show me what you want. Would that be okay?”

  “Training you is not in my job description,” Mei snapped, straightening to her complete five foot six inches of height. Every inch mattered in her world of deceit, bluff and bluster. She took one step closer, so she could really look down her nose at the trembling techie.

  “I just thought....” Kathleen looked up and gulped. The poor woman had hives creeping up her neck, and by now she must need a drink of water in the worst way. “I hoped that would help you, umm, get what you needed.”

  Mei rubbed her chin and stared. Truth was, she wished she were half as smart as Kathleen. It might be a simple system, but she didn’t really have a clue how to get into it. Until tonight, she’d dabbled in amateurish hacking but had only really handled the basic software programs at her old job, the one she gave up when searching for LiLi became a full time occupation. In no way was an automobile inventory system as intimidating as a D.C. Metro Police internal link with the FBI.