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Frustration at being kept on the sidelines ate at him.

He knew why Ackers was doing it. Officially, Jordan was still part of the task force chasing Hurek and could be called away at any point.

But he suspected Ackers was also trying to keep him separated from the team, so he didn’t blurt out something Top Secret.

He resented the hell out of it, but he also knew it was possible.

These men were his brothers, and it wouldn’t take much for them to crack him like an egg and cause everything to spill out.

Especially as he couldn’t see the harm in them knowing the truth about what he and Kurt had been doing in Africa.

But it could cost him his career, and it would be unprofessional, and most importantly of all, Kurt Montana would not have approved.

He went out in search of coffee and bumped into the beautiful and mysterious Dinah Cohen who was on secondment from the Israelis .

“How was Africa?”

He frowned at her as he stirred his coffee. He could pretend the Israelis hadn’t given them the lead that Hurek was in the DRC, or he could be direct. “Your intel was out of date.”

She poured herself a mug. “Wasn’t our intel.”

“Whose then?”

“Above my pay grade, I’m afraid.”

“Someone fed you a line. Might be nice to know who.” He raised his chin and looked down on her. “Why are you here? Are you spying on us? So help me God, if you had anything to do with Kurt’s death?—”

Her mouth dropped open. “What possible reason would we have to kill a member of the FBI?”

“What possible reason would you have to abet a terrorist like Hurek?”

“None,” she spat. “We want him to face justice as much as you do.”

“Why? He didn’t kidnap any Israelis I’m aware of.”

Her lips twisted. “He did not.” Her mouth firmed. “But he’s had dealings with people who want Israel wiped off the map. Your great-grandfather was Jewish, you should understand…”

“You’ve run background checks that deep on me?” Jordan stared at her in surprise. “You’ve done that on everyone working here?”

She backed up a step. “We always run checks on people. It’s automatic. We want to know the potential red flags before people start waving them.”

“What did you find out about the people working here?” He tried to keep the threatening edge under control, but she heard it.

“Nothing of interest except that you’re well-trained and loyal to one another. That’s a trait we admire, Operator Krychek, not exploit.”

He wasn’t sure he believed her, but it struck him then that perhaps he could use her and her connections to the Mossad.

Rather than treating her like the enemy he should feed her some of the information that was proving impossible for the analysts at SIOC to figure out.

Regan’s words from earlier came back to him. Keep your friends close…

“What do you know about a man called Bjorn Anders?”

She pursed her lips. “We know he had connections with some people we consider corrupt and that some of the contracts his firm were awarded were not the lowest or best bid.”

“Who murdered him?”

She hesitated. “We don’t know that. We do know someone was following him.”

Jordan frowned as something clicked into place. “A Brit? Rowena Smith?”

She looked surprised. “Yes, but we can’t find any connection, and now she’s disappeared.”

“You’ve looked for her?”

She nodded. “Not full scale, but we’ve had our feelers out. She’s supposed to catch a flight home tomorrow from Harare. If she’s on it, we’ll let you know.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thank you.” He headed outside into the cold dank day. Called Regan on his new cell. “Hey, can you come over and check mine and Ackers’ offices? Maybe the whole compound? Make it a routine training exercise or something? Most of the guys are in Charlotte on a mission anyway.”

“I’m aware. What are you worried about? Specifically?”

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Uh oh—that’s when I really start to worry. You haven’t had a visit from Matt Lazlo’s girlfriend lately, have you?”

Jordan had no idea what the guy was talking about. “We have an Israeli operative over here on an exchange.”

“Ah, Ms. Cohen.”

“You know her?”

“We’re aware of her.”

They were bugging her.

“Look, it seems stupid to do all that work at my house if my workplace is also compromised… ”

“I’m not disagreeing, but I doubt the Israelis would do anything to jeopardize their relationship with the US.”

“I agree. I just don’t trust anyone very much right now.”

“We could do a sweep as a standard check. Probably a good idea considering what we found at your place. Ackers agree to this?”

“I haven’t spoken to him about it yet. He’s up in DC for a meeting. The thought just occurred to me after a conversation I had with Dinah.”

“Don’t bother telling him. He’ll say no.”

“Why?”

“Because he thinks I’d bug his office.”

“Would you?”

“I don’t do what I do for fun, Operator Krychek. I am given orders, and I follow them.” The tone was hard.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“Hell, yes, I’d bug his office if I thought he’d ever do anything interesting enough to warrant it. But he won’t, so no.”

Jon Regan was giving him a headache. “So are you coming?”

“We’re driving onto the base right now. I have your phones for you. Both were clean.”

“That’s good news, at least.”

“Preliminary check on your personal storm trooper raised no obvious red flags, although I’d keep an eye peeled for an ice pick during the throes.”

Jordan was relieved. The knowledge he’d been reckless enough to let a stranger into his house when he knew there was danger circling all around ate at him. Was he actively trying to invite trouble? To punish himself?

“And the bugs, did you track them?”

Regan growled. “Fuckers were on to us before we cleared three levels, but the fact they had more than three layers tells us something. I’ll pick up the other electronics tonight because we want to dissect them.

If you aren’t planning on playing cops and robbers with fluffy handcuffs, I can be your escort home.

See if we pick anything up in an unmarked. ”

Jordan spotted the painters’ van heading his way and hung up. What the hell was going on? Who was powerful enough to bug, not to mention try to kill, a member of the FBI? And why? The obvious answer was to shut him up because he knew something, but what? He was drawing a blank.

They needed to figure it out. And soon.

Friday, January 22 .

Kurt had officially been dead for nine days. Every day the lie continued, it amplified the pain his family and colleagues must be suffering. He scratched off a mark low on the cabin wall beside the bed, hidden from immediate view should someone come in and inspect the cell.

No one had bothered yet. He assumed they were too scared he might overpower them.

He and Rowena had been left relatively undisturbed with the exception of meals being thrust noisily through the slot three times a day. He ate more here than he did normally.

They saved any imperishable items in case Hurek changed his mind about how he treated them and decided to starve them instead.

They’d stored apples, packs of crackers, and cans of soda in a recessed space in the closet.

They’d formed a bit of a routine since they’d left the last port somewhere in mainland Africa or Madagascar.

Their hopes of escape there had been thwarted.

They’d only been in port for a couple of hours, just long enough, presumably, to drop off a blood sample to be sent for DNA analysis and to pick up supplies.

He hoped to hell that didn’t include unwilling women.

It had been broad daylight, and their porthole faced the harbor, hampering any hope of breaking out without detection .

So they’d sailed away without a glimmer of escape.

He’d spent time dismantling the porthole without it being detectable.

He could remove the casing easily enough and figured he’d probably be able to pry the window fitting out if he had a crowbar.

The chair legs might work. They were tubular steel, and there was a place on the base of the chair where the steel was pinched and might be thin enough to ease into the gap between the glass and the metal for leveraging.

But he needed a screwdriver to detach the legs from the base of the chair, and so far, every knife they’d been given had been wooden and useless for that purpose.

Ever since they’d left port, he’d been trying to file down the metal handle of a spoon into something he could use as a screwdriver or a shiv, or both. But it was slow going because he was using the metal edge of the bed frame as a rasp.

One thing he did know was everything had to be in place for them to bolt if and when they had the opportunity to escape. But it didn’t make much sense to escape when they were so far out to sea they couldn’t see land.

The seas were rough, and poor Rowena lay in bed looking green.

He gave up on the spoon and slipped it inside the hollow leg of the chair in case their guards decided to search their cell. “Okay. Ready for some PT?”

Sweat shone on her brow, but she struggled upright.

“I’ll try as long as we start with yoga. Anything more strenuous might lead me to vomit all over you.”

“Fun. Let’s work on our downward dog.” He raised his brows suggestively but only to tease.

“Perv.” She swatted him gently and lowered herself carefully to the scratchy brown carpet.

He scrubbed at the beard on his face, which he hated but Rowena seemed to enjoy. Maybe it was the thread of silver in the black that he really disliked, the visual evidence in the mirror that he was older than this beautiful woman .

Though he’d searched the cabin repeatedly for bugs or peepholes, neither of them could shake the worry they might be spied on.

They made love in the darkness— coitus interruptus, the only contraceptive method available to them.

At night, when they felt safest, they abandoned their fears and indulged in each other, and it was glorious.

But not today. Today the ocean was too turbulent for Row to do anything except fight the need to throw up.

They set up on the floor and started stretching, if you could call it that. He wasn’t exactly known for his flexibility. It helped that they sat legs spread and feet touching. Talk about sappy. It was both a physical and emotional connection, and the only reason he was holding it together.

Once Hurek got serious about whatever the hell he wanted from them, the first thing he’d probably do was split them up.

The threat to the other would be enough to control them.

It was something Kurt was going to have to deal with in the moment.

No point pretending he could predict what a sociopathic dictator might do, but he’d worked through various scenarios in his head.

Hopefully, they’d be long gone by then.

He flexed his foot against hers, and she laughed. She was very ticklish in all sorts of interesting places.

“I think we may be sailing around the Cape of Good Hope.”

“That is not something I ever imagined I’d do.”

“As soon as we reach the Atlantic side and get out of the zone where the two oceans mix the seas should settle down.”

She crossed her fingers. Bent toward him offering her lips if only he could match her flexibility. Amazing what a little incentive could do for you.

“Not that we might not experience bad weather.” He couldn’t lie to her.

“I know.” She wiped her sweaty brow. “But thanks for giving me a little hope. I never knew seasickness would be quite so vom-worthy.”

He’d never been afflicted, but he’d known plenty who were.

Sailing in this direction was preferable than heading toward the Suez Canal or the Indian Ocean. At least there was a vague hope they’d head West and be more able to escape.

Was Hurek plotting some kind of terrorist attack on US soil? Kurt wouldn’t put it past the man, although he didn’t think Hurek wanted to be a Bin Laden-esque figure. He had no real ideology, save looking after his own skin. So what was his endgame?

Why had he kidnapped Kurt rather than feeding him a lead bullet back in Beira?

They switched so one leg was bent over the other, and he leaned forward feeling his hamstring loosen a little. Rowena was quiet, and he didn’t disturb her concentration, not when he was pretty sure it was the only thing keeping her from puking.

The thought that maybe it was morning sickness rather than seasickness had crossed his mind, but he figured it was too early for that to be the case.

It gave him pause. What would it be like to raise a kid from scratch again? Would Rowena want to keep it? Would they be out of this mess by then? No way would he want Rowena to deliver here in this room with no medical support.

He didn’t want to put the additional worry about pregnancy into her head. He wouldn’t mind another kid, but what sort of asshole risked making his girlfriend pregnant under these sorts of circumstances when the possible consequences for the woman and baby included death from complications?

They needed to stop taking risks.

The metal hull groaned audibly as the ship tipped into a deep yawing motion and then rocked violently back up the other side of the wave.

Rowena dashed to the bathroom.

Damn, he felt for her.

Maybe they had some seasickness tablets onboard.

Who did this ship belong to? Did Hurek own it? Had he always owned it? If so, how had they missed that? The FBI had been scouring the world for any sign of this sonofabitch since last summer with zero success. If he owned this vessel, they should have known about it.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, and he tensed as the footsteps paused. The slit in the bottom of the door, about four-inches tall by twenty-inches wide flapped as something was shoved through.

Clothes.

“The captain expects you to join him for dinner, Mr. FBI. Any attempt to escape or hurt anyone onboard will end with you being beaten and the woman punished appropriately.”

Appropriately ? What the fuck did that mean?

Rowena leaned on the doorjamb.

He held her green eyes. “Both of us?”

“Just you.”

Shit.

He opened his mouth to argue, but Rowena shook her head. She was even more green now than before.

“Tell the captain I’d be delighted. One thing. You got any seasickness tablets? I’m sick as a dog and don’t want to puke all over the captain’s table.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”