Page 21
Story: Handling Haven
Lyingnext to Haven in bed, Frisco shook her shoulder as she thrashed back and forth. It was the middle of the night, and she was having another bad dream. He was about to say her name louder when she sat straight up, her eyes opening wide, as she panted to catch her breath. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he rubbed her thigh under the covers. “Hey, you okay?’
There was a wild look in her eyes as she turned to him, still gasping for air. “I ... I ...”
“Sh. What is it? What were you dreaming about?”
She shook her head. Instead of answering him, she flung the covers off her body and swung her legs so they were hanging off the bed. Reaching for thewheelchair, she brought it closer and swiftly transferred from the bed to the seat. Confused, Frisco climbed out of bed and grabbed his shorts from the floor. Before he even had a chance to put them on over his boxer briefs, Haven was heading out the door.
“Hey! Haven, what’s wrong?” He followed her into the office and as she began booting up the computers, he pulled on his shorts, then stood behind her with his arms across his bare chest.
“I know who he is ... I mean, I don’t know exactly who he is, but I know where I recognized him from.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
“Who? The guy from the wedding?”
“Yeah. Talking about my mom and sister during lunch must have triggered it. Middle Eastern descent, about forty years old, dark hair and beard, and he had this—this scar on his left cheek that started at the bottom of his ear. I ran into the same man right before we entered the train station in Madrid—literally. He was an asshole and called us disgusting infidels or something like that.”
Taking a deep, calming breath, Frisco placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Are you sure, baby? That was an awfully long time ago, and both times preceded a tragic event.”
“I’m absolutely positive, Frisco. This isn’t a game my mind is playing with me.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m also sure he’s Mr. Smith—or works for him—and was involved in both terror attacks. And now he’s looking for a trifecta using the nuke this time. Wherever he plans on detonating that thing, it’s somewhere in the US—I feel it in my gut.”
He stared into her eyes for a moment, but her faith in her memory didn’t waiver. “I’mpositive.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “Let’s find out who he really is.”
Haven rana hand down her face as she reached for the bottle of water Frisco had placed next to her keyboard earlier. Her eyes were dry and tired from staring at her multiple computer monitors for the past eight hours. One would think a man of Middle Eastern ancestry, with a noticeable scar and probable ties to al Qaeda, would be easy to track down.Not. There were thousands of potential suspects from the al QaedaandISIS watch lists for her to go through, many of which had facialscars for one reason or another. And the list seemed to be growing every day as more were identified.
She and Frisco had been in contact with practically everyone by this point, and each time she had to convince them she wasn’t imagining things. Kenny, Carter, and Jordyn had been easy to sway, having worked with her for years and had relied on her hunches before—and this was far more than a hunch. Currently in Washington, Gene McDaniel was also on board with her, but the president and the Army had been a little tougher to sell it to. They wanted a name and more proof this wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
Frisco had been on the phone all day with the three Delta teams, who were still stationed on the Texas/Mexico border, and his colonel. Everyone was in a holding pattern waiting for the elusive Mr. Smith to contact Preston Ward. Down in San Antonio, Kenny was hard at work on his computer trying to narrow down suspects for her, as were the other analysts in California, but ultimately, it came down to Haven identifying the guy. Whoever the bastard was, she prayed he wasn’t so far under the radar they didn’t have anything on him. Some of these guys spent years in the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Spain, and any other country theyhated for the freedoms the citizens had, hiding in plain sight. They held down normal jobs, socialized with coworkers, and barbecued with their neighbors, who they could easily kill the next day without blinking an eye.
With Roxie on her heels, Avery walked into the office and placed a turkey sandwich and potato chips on the desk in front of Frisco, who was currently talking with Ghost, getting an update. The older woman handed a second plate to Haven. “Eat. You barely touched your breakfast. You should also come out to the living room and let me help you with your stretches. You’ve been sitting there far too long.”
“I’ve got too many photos to go through.” Her eyes never leaving the screen in front of her for more than a split second, she picked up a chip and tossed it in her mouth. “But thanks for the lunch. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” She was about to grab another one, when her phone rang. Snatching it up, she glanced at the screen before connecting the call. “Hey, Jordyn, what’s—”
“He’s named the meeting spot. We have two hours to get to the Paseo Reforma in Nuevo Laredo. Kenny’s shooting you an email with the details, and then we’re runningout the door.”
“What? He wants to meet in a fucking mall?” Haven heard Frisco jump to his feet behind her and tell Ghost to hang on. “But that’s got to be almost a three-hour drive into Mexico from San Antonio.”
“Guess he figures Preston can afford to find faster transportation. We’re headed for the airport—got a chopper standing by. We’ll call you when we land in Laredo and meet up with the Deltas.”
Haven sighed, heavily. This was the first time she’d been this involved in a mission since her last one as a field operative, and she was being left behind. It royally sucked. “All right.”
“Hey ... don’t give me that sad-sack bullshit. We need you. Get plugged into the mall’s security cameras and find this bastard. You know what he looks like, we don’t. It’s not like the Deltas can waltz in there, wearing camos, with guns blazing. The mall was one of the targets on their list, but this is going to be a fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants mission for all of us, and you’re in the pilot’s seat. Now get to work and don’t make me call Frisco to kick your sorry ass.”
She snorted. Leave it to Jordyn to call her out. “Yes, bi-otch! And you take care of my boy down there. Anything happens to Kenny, and I’ll get out of this chair just to kill you.”
“There’s the kick-ass woman we all know and love. Talk to you when we land.”
Operation Cliffhanger was a go.Playing with a stress ball that had been on Haven’s desk, Frisco stared at the three monitors in front of him. The Deimos analysts back in California had hacked into the camera system and transferred control to the computers in Haven’s office. Each screen was broken up into sections of four. Haven and Avery were on either side of him, watching their assigned feeds which were from different cameras located throughout the mall and/or the body cams hidden on the individual operatives, including Carter, Jordyn, and Reardon. The latter’s was in a fake pair of glasses he was wearing.
All three Delta teams had hightailed it to the mall, in civilian clothing that hid their weapons, as soon as they had the location. Because of the border crossing, they’d only been able to smuggle in their handguns. Their assault rifles and body armor had been left in Texas, which no one was thrilled with.
Almost every contingency had been coordinated over the past two weeks, so they’dbeen ready for almost anything. Unfortunately,almostwas not everything.
Ghost’s team had gotten there first, while the other two had taken helicopters to a nearby airport where rented vans were waiting for them to drive into Mexico. When they arrived at the mall, everyone was broken up into teams of two or three operatives, covering as much of the interior and exterior of the building as possible. With a mall that size, though, and hundreds of shoppers, they still couldn’t cover every corner of the place.
Behind Frisco, the colonel was overseeing the entire operation, having arrived shortly after being notified. However, knowing his teams could handle the mission without input from him, he let everyone do their jobs. If he was needed, he’d step in.
They had fifteen more minutes before “Mr. Smith” was supposed to approach “Preston Ward” in the crowded food court. The red-haired Reardon, dubbed “Ginger” for the mission, had on the red baseball cap, jeans, and green shirt Smith had instructed him to wear as he sat alone at a table for two, pretending to eat lunch. In reality, the guy looked like he would puke if he put anything in his stomach from the image on one of Haven’s screens. She tried to calm him down. “Kenny, take deepbreaths. You’re going to be fine. Carter and Jordyn are twenty feet away, and you’re surrounded by Deltas. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Stop fidgeting and don’t answer me; you’ll give away the fact you’re in contact with someone.” It was the same thing she’d already said to him, several times, through the tiny listening device in his ear since he’d walked into the mall by himself. Jordyn and Carter had followed at a discreet distance, keeping him in sight the entire time.
There was a wild look in her eyes as she turned to him, still gasping for air. “I ... I ...”
“Sh. What is it? What were you dreaming about?”
She shook her head. Instead of answering him, she flung the covers off her body and swung her legs so they were hanging off the bed. Reaching for thewheelchair, she brought it closer and swiftly transferred from the bed to the seat. Confused, Frisco climbed out of bed and grabbed his shorts from the floor. Before he even had a chance to put them on over his boxer briefs, Haven was heading out the door.
“Hey! Haven, what’s wrong?” He followed her into the office and as she began booting up the computers, he pulled on his shorts, then stood behind her with his arms across his bare chest.
“I know who he is ... I mean, I don’t know exactly who he is, but I know where I recognized him from.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.
“Who? The guy from the wedding?”
“Yeah. Talking about my mom and sister during lunch must have triggered it. Middle Eastern descent, about forty years old, dark hair and beard, and he had this—this scar on his left cheek that started at the bottom of his ear. I ran into the same man right before we entered the train station in Madrid—literally. He was an asshole and called us disgusting infidels or something like that.”
Taking a deep, calming breath, Frisco placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. “Are you sure, baby? That was an awfully long time ago, and both times preceded a tragic event.”
“I’m absolutely positive, Frisco. This isn’t a game my mind is playing with me.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m also sure he’s Mr. Smith—or works for him—and was involved in both terror attacks. And now he’s looking for a trifecta using the nuke this time. Wherever he plans on detonating that thing, it’s somewhere in the US—I feel it in my gut.”
He stared into her eyes for a moment, but her faith in her memory didn’t waiver. “I’mpositive.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “Let’s find out who he really is.”
Haven rana hand down her face as she reached for the bottle of water Frisco had placed next to her keyboard earlier. Her eyes were dry and tired from staring at her multiple computer monitors for the past eight hours. One would think a man of Middle Eastern ancestry, with a noticeable scar and probable ties to al Qaeda, would be easy to track down.Not. There were thousands of potential suspects from the al QaedaandISIS watch lists for her to go through, many of which had facialscars for one reason or another. And the list seemed to be growing every day as more were identified.
She and Frisco had been in contact with practically everyone by this point, and each time she had to convince them she wasn’t imagining things. Kenny, Carter, and Jordyn had been easy to sway, having worked with her for years and had relied on her hunches before—and this was far more than a hunch. Currently in Washington, Gene McDaniel was also on board with her, but the president and the Army had been a little tougher to sell it to. They wanted a name and more proof this wasn’t a figment of her imagination.
Frisco had been on the phone all day with the three Delta teams, who were still stationed on the Texas/Mexico border, and his colonel. Everyone was in a holding pattern waiting for the elusive Mr. Smith to contact Preston Ward. Down in San Antonio, Kenny was hard at work on his computer trying to narrow down suspects for her, as were the other analysts in California, but ultimately, it came down to Haven identifying the guy. Whoever the bastard was, she prayed he wasn’t so far under the radar they didn’t have anything on him. Some of these guys spent years in the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Spain, and any other country theyhated for the freedoms the citizens had, hiding in plain sight. They held down normal jobs, socialized with coworkers, and barbecued with their neighbors, who they could easily kill the next day without blinking an eye.
With Roxie on her heels, Avery walked into the office and placed a turkey sandwich and potato chips on the desk in front of Frisco, who was currently talking with Ghost, getting an update. The older woman handed a second plate to Haven. “Eat. You barely touched your breakfast. You should also come out to the living room and let me help you with your stretches. You’ve been sitting there far too long.”
“I’ve got too many photos to go through.” Her eyes never leaving the screen in front of her for more than a split second, she picked up a chip and tossed it in her mouth. “But thanks for the lunch. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” She was about to grab another one, when her phone rang. Snatching it up, she glanced at the screen before connecting the call. “Hey, Jordyn, what’s—”
“He’s named the meeting spot. We have two hours to get to the Paseo Reforma in Nuevo Laredo. Kenny’s shooting you an email with the details, and then we’re runningout the door.”
“What? He wants to meet in a fucking mall?” Haven heard Frisco jump to his feet behind her and tell Ghost to hang on. “But that’s got to be almost a three-hour drive into Mexico from San Antonio.”
“Guess he figures Preston can afford to find faster transportation. We’re headed for the airport—got a chopper standing by. We’ll call you when we land in Laredo and meet up with the Deltas.”
Haven sighed, heavily. This was the first time she’d been this involved in a mission since her last one as a field operative, and she was being left behind. It royally sucked. “All right.”
“Hey ... don’t give me that sad-sack bullshit. We need you. Get plugged into the mall’s security cameras and find this bastard. You know what he looks like, we don’t. It’s not like the Deltas can waltz in there, wearing camos, with guns blazing. The mall was one of the targets on their list, but this is going to be a fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants mission for all of us, and you’re in the pilot’s seat. Now get to work and don’t make me call Frisco to kick your sorry ass.”
She snorted. Leave it to Jordyn to call her out. “Yes, bi-otch! And you take care of my boy down there. Anything happens to Kenny, and I’ll get out of this chair just to kill you.”
“There’s the kick-ass woman we all know and love. Talk to you when we land.”
Operation Cliffhanger was a go.Playing with a stress ball that had been on Haven’s desk, Frisco stared at the three monitors in front of him. The Deimos analysts back in California had hacked into the camera system and transferred control to the computers in Haven’s office. Each screen was broken up into sections of four. Haven and Avery were on either side of him, watching their assigned feeds which were from different cameras located throughout the mall and/or the body cams hidden on the individual operatives, including Carter, Jordyn, and Reardon. The latter’s was in a fake pair of glasses he was wearing.
All three Delta teams had hightailed it to the mall, in civilian clothing that hid their weapons, as soon as they had the location. Because of the border crossing, they’d only been able to smuggle in their handguns. Their assault rifles and body armor had been left in Texas, which no one was thrilled with.
Almost every contingency had been coordinated over the past two weeks, so they’dbeen ready for almost anything. Unfortunately,almostwas not everything.
Ghost’s team had gotten there first, while the other two had taken helicopters to a nearby airport where rented vans were waiting for them to drive into Mexico. When they arrived at the mall, everyone was broken up into teams of two or three operatives, covering as much of the interior and exterior of the building as possible. With a mall that size, though, and hundreds of shoppers, they still couldn’t cover every corner of the place.
Behind Frisco, the colonel was overseeing the entire operation, having arrived shortly after being notified. However, knowing his teams could handle the mission without input from him, he let everyone do their jobs. If he was needed, he’d step in.
They had fifteen more minutes before “Mr. Smith” was supposed to approach “Preston Ward” in the crowded food court. The red-haired Reardon, dubbed “Ginger” for the mission, had on the red baseball cap, jeans, and green shirt Smith had instructed him to wear as he sat alone at a table for two, pretending to eat lunch. In reality, the guy looked like he would puke if he put anything in his stomach from the image on one of Haven’s screens. She tried to calm him down. “Kenny, take deepbreaths. You’re going to be fine. Carter and Jordyn are twenty feet away, and you’re surrounded by Deltas. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Stop fidgeting and don’t answer me; you’ll give away the fact you’re in contact with someone.” It was the same thing she’d already said to him, several times, through the tiny listening device in his ear since he’d walked into the mall by himself. Jordyn and Carter had followed at a discreet distance, keeping him in sight the entire time.