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“First job, high-value-target rescue.” Jared opened a folder and passed out intel packets. “HVT’s Marlena McCloud. Abducted by a South American arms dealer whose legitimate business dealings revolve around sugar production. His name is Marco Romatar. Intelligence has her in his compound in northern South America, somewhere in the Guyana region.”
Trace paged through the packet of papers. He studied the strategic details more than he studied the girl. How hard would it be to pinpoint a chick wandering around the jungle? If he focused on an easy HVT operation, then maybe he’d be able to take a deep breath.
“Guyana? Like the land of Jim Jones and the Jonestown suicides?” Brock asked.
Jared nodded. “Romatar has several sugar growers down there. Satellite images and recon from a British ops team shows them farther back in the jungle. A remote, decently equipped house on a marshy river. Armed guards patrolling water and land. Questions?”
Javier nodded. “British ops didn’t extract?”
“HVT to us. They didn’t know why. I don’t know why, and I didn’t ask. They saw an American, passed the intel along in a friendly, FYI kinda way. She means something to someone. This HVT is a high priority, no other details provided.” Jared turned toward the television screen and picked up the remote. Hitting Play, he went back to his chair, and his dog dropped to the floor as the screen lit up and a surveillance video came to life.
The grainy parking-lot footage showed a woman in heels making her way down a row of cars. A van rushed up. Two men grabbed her. The van peeled out. The entire scene took less than ten seconds.
Jared paused it again. “That was from a secure CIA ops site outside Washington, DC. Underground, security badges, the works. The van was let out by the guard on duty without so much as a second glance, and no one heard from her again. But she fit the description from the British team. We’re not 100 percent confident, but it’s what we have to go on. Brock, more to add?”
“We’re itching to go. It’ll be a complicated extraction, but based on what we’ve mapped out, it’s doable, using local resources and floating the river.” He leaned forward and slapped the table. “We’re a go. Plan to load up in three hours.”
Trace breathed a sigh of relief. Three hours he could manage. The only downside was that he wasn’t in the desert looking for the only thing that might give him peace.