Page 24 of Rescuing Ally, Part 2 (CHARLIE Team: Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists #8)
“Military grade. Built for classified government contracts. Completely invisible to outside surveillance.” Collins’s confirmation carries satisfaction.
“What about personnel?” CJ presses for specifics.
“Twelve specialists. Quantum physicists, AI researchers, and nanotech engineers. Best minds in their fields.” Collins pauses, then adds with paternal steel, “People who know failure’s not an option.”
The resources he’s offering represent capabilities that dwarf government budgets. Corporate research and development unconstrained by bureaucratic limitations or oversight committees.
“How fast can you deploy?” Sam continues the tactical assessment.
Collins checks his watch. “Team assembly within six hours. Full operational capability within eighteen.”
“Money talks.” Blake whistles low.
“Money screams. And right now, I’m prepared to be real fucking loud,” Collins corrects with grim satisfaction.
The strategy crystallizes around us. Dual operational tracks. The visible Guardian activities that Malfor expects, and invisible technical warfare he can’t monitor.
“How do we communicate between sites?” Rigel asks, always thinking about operational details.
“Courier runs. Physical transfer of intel between clean sites. No electronic communication that could get intercepted.” CJ’s response is short and direct. “We rotate Guardians at weekly intervals. They carry any necessary communication.”
“Who’s running the tech side?” Sam asks the critical question.
“I am.” Mitzy’s voice carries absolute authority. “But I can’t be the one who goes in. I need to stay here, coordinate between the clean site and our beach operations, manage the flow of intelligence.”
“Then who goes in for the techies?” CJ presses.
Mitzy looks around the circle. “Jeb. He’s got the technical background to work with Collins’s specialists, and he knows my systems better than anyone.”
“And security?” Collins asks.
“I like your idea of two Guardians.” Sam’s tone makes it clear this isn’t negotiable. “Hank and Gabe on the first rotation.”
Collins nods, but I catch something in his expression. “How do we explain their absence from Guardian operations?”
“Training exercise,” Forest suggests. “Extended deployment simulation. Happens all the time.”
“That works for a few days,” Ethan points out. “What about longer term?”
“We cross that bridge when we get to it,” Sam responds.
But there’s another issue burning in my mind. “How do we know your people are clean?” I ask Collins directly. “Harrison worked for you for twenty years. How do we know there aren’t others?”
Collins’s expression hardens. “Because I’m personally vetting every specialist who goes in. People I’ve worked with for years, people whose backgrounds I know inside and out.”
“That’s what you thought about Harrison,” Hank points out, his voice carrying cold logic.
The challenge hangs in the salt air. Collins stares at us both, then nods slowly. “You’re right, which is why every one of my people gets the same EMP treatment you do. Full decontamination before they enter the facility, and once they’re in, they stay in until this is over.”
“Anyone who enters that facility commits to seeing this through to the end,” Mitzy adds.
“What if your specialists don’t like our methods?” I test his commitment.
“Then they can find new jobs. I didn’t build my company by putting up with bullshit.” Collins’s smile carries predatory satisfaction.
Walt shifts on his driftwood seat, the question he’s been holding back finally emerging. “How long before we know something? Before we get intel we can actually use?”
“Unknown. This quantum entanglement tech is going to take time to crack.” Mitzy’s admission carries scientific honesty.
“We don’t have weeks.” Carter’s statement rings with flat certainty.
“Then we make sure it takes days.” Collins’s expression hardens, and his voice carries the certainty that whatever resources are required, whatever specialists need to be acquired, whatever obstacles need to be eliminated, he’ll make it happen.
Because his daughter is missing and somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, Ally waits for rescue.
“Collins, get your facility up and running,” Sam says. “Mitzy, pick your team and get ready for immediate deployment. Everyone else keeps up the normal routine until further notice.”
Collins rises from his seat, movements carrying boardroom authority even in this informal setting.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to bring my daughter home.
Whatever resources you need. Whatever rules need breaking.
Whatever enemies need eliminating.” His pale blue eyes lock with mine, then shift to Hank.
“But when this is over, we’re gonna have a talk about my daughter’s future. ”
“Looking forward to it. Should be a hell of a conversation.” I let my own steel show.
“Real interesting.” Hank nods beside me.
I catch his eye and something passes between us—a shared moment of amusement at Collins’s assumption that he’ll have any say in how this conversation goes.
For a split second, Hank’s mouth quirks up at the corner, and I feel my own grin starting to form.
It’s the first time we’ve been on the same wavelength since our fight, that automatic synchronization we’ve always had when facing down someone who thinks they can intimidate us.
The moment feels good. Right. Like the partnership that’s kept us both alive through hell and back is on the mend.
“Yeah, I think it will be.” Collins studies us both for another moment, then shakes his head. As he heads toward the gondola platform, I catch Hank’s eye across the dying firelight.
Ally’s father doesn’t approve of us, but he needs us.
And right now, that’s enough.
The war just gained a new front.
Time to see if money and desperation can accomplish what tactical expertise hasn’t. I’m not a techie, but it finally feels as if we’re doing something rather than spinning our wheels.