Closer (The Unit #1) Page 6

  Emma stared at him as the car slowly pulled away from the crash site. Michael mouthed, “I’m coming for you. Stay safe.” When she left, she took his breath with him. He realized he had failed to protect her.

  He made a mental note of the license plate, definitely government issued: Government Fleet DC2368. The man that had taken Emma no longer worked undercover, that much was clear from his plate. Someone high up the chain of the CIA wanted her. But why? What kind of information did they want? Maybe they wanted her to lead them to the GIA, but he was the only one who knew about the kidnapping. Only he and Rob he thought in disgust. He had to talk to Rob. That was his first step in finding his breath again.

  « Chapter Seven »

  CIA Special Agent Daniel Ingrams had handcuffed her to the door. What did he think she was going to do, jump out of a speeding vehicle? She stared at his clean-shaven face. He was balding on top with a pathetic comb over. He was an unattractive man with high cheekbones, a large nose, and skinny lips. She would be surprised if he was still married. He gave off this “don’t touch me” vibe loud and clear.

  “What do you want with me?” she asked as she tried to find a comfortable position. She had a hard time turning her body to face his. She managed to turn her head so she could gauge his reactions to her questions.

  “What do you think I am going to do with you? Ms. Welby,” he retorted.

  “I work for the Department of Defense. I work on a top-secret project for them. They won’t take kindly to me being ‘taken,’ ” she explained as she eyed his profile.

  His hands were steady on the wheel. This was a man on a mission. “I know exactly what you do for the DOD. You let me worry about them. You just worry about how to keep yourself alive for the next three days,” he censured as he stared ahead at the road in front of him.

  “What did I do to you? Why do you want me dead?” she pleaded.

  “It’s not what you did to me; it’s what you know that is going to get you killed. And I am just the man for the job. It’s better I kill you to keep what you know out of the hands of the terrorists, than you confess state secrets to the GIA,” he blurted.

  He would be a hero for his actions. His boss would see the error of his ways in closing the case on the Armed Islamic Group before he had a chance to fully vet it. It was true, he worked on the case for over three years and in that time, not one message of chatter indicated a threat to any American target. All of it indicated threats against Algerian targets. Still, he wasn’t finished, he had made it his personal mission to bring down the GIA after they had taken and killed his best friend who worked as a contractor in Algeria. Once the CIA closed the case eight months ago, he took it upon himself to continue investigating. And it was a good thing he did too or he would not have found out about Emma Welby and her prototype for chemical weapon disbursement. Too bad he couldn’t go to his boss with what he had found. The first time he tried, he got his ass chewed out for still investigating in the first place. A much lower level agent was put in charge of the GIA and its subsequent chatter. That agent would deem what was a worthy threat. His boss had said Ingrams had taken things too personally; he needed someone with objectivity, and Ingrams had lost his. Lost his objectivity, Ingrams would show him. He would neutralize the threat no one else at the agency seemed concerned about. Still Ingrams knew. He knew what the GIA wanted and they weren’t going to get it; he would kill her first.

  “Where are we going?” asked Emma swallowing the bile that rose in the back of her throat.

  “We are taking a little ride to a cabin I rented in Wells. It is part of the Rachel Carson National Wildlife Refuge. It really is quite beautiful as the property is adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean. I even rented a boat. If I weigh you down enough, no one will ever find your body,” he expounded, as he looked straight at her.

  She saw the cold, dead eyes of a man who had lost his way. She saw her death when he looked at her. He really was going to kill her. Would Michael even know where to look?

  She remembered seeing Michael before they pulled away. He said he was coming for her and for her to stay safe. She would stay safe until he found her. She would use her brains and come up with a plan to keep herself safe, until Michael could get to her. He promised to protect her, but a part of her couldn’t help but doubt him now. He was left without a car. How would he ever find her in time? Ingrams had said three days. Why did he plan on keeping her alive for that specific amount of time?

  Michael was five miles away from Kennebunk and ran there in under an hour. Good thing his training and work had required him to remain extremely physically fit. He still ran every morning out of habit. Coming upon the first restaurant he found, he inquired about the nearest hotel.

  “Three blocks due south,” the waitress told him as a pen peeked out behind her ear.

  He approached the desk clerk of the Kennebunk Inn and asked for a first floor room near the emergency exit. “Follow this hall and turn right. Your room is at the end of the hall on the right hand side,” the desk clerk explained as she pointed down the hall.

  Once inside, he sat down on the bed and placed his first call. “Rob. What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, getting up to pace in front of the window.

  “What are you talking about, Michael?” Rob asked playing it cool.

  “You can cut the shit Rob, I know about the GIA’s involvement. I know that you had me working for a fucking terrorist organization,” Michael bellowed. “How could you?” Michael pressed.

  “Look man, you don’t understand,” Rob pleaded.

  “Make me understand. Make me understand how my best fucking friend could set me up,” Michael sneered.

  “They have Lizzie,” Rob groaned.

  Stunned into silence, Michael sat back down onto the bed.

  Rob continued, “They told me if I ever wanted to see her alive again, I would find a way to deliver Emma Welby to them.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me that? You know I would have helped you retrieve her,” Michael explained.

  “I know you would have man, but I didn’t have the time. I could hear her…I could hear her screaming in the background. I would have agreed to anything at that point,” Rob claimed. “Please tell me you are still making the drop. Please tell me nothing has changed. You already received half the money,” he rambled.

  “I can’t,” Michael murmured into the phone as he hung his head into his hand. “Somebody else is in play. Some government official ran us off the road and kidnapped Emma at gunpoint. I don’t know what is going on. All I know is I can’t lose her,” Michael confessed.

  “Where are you?” Rob asked.

  “The Kennebunk Inn, in Kennebunkport, about an hour south of Lewiston off of I95,” Michael continued, “Why? What do you have in mind?”

  “I think it’s time to do what we were trained to do. Get Lizzie and your girl back, man,” Rob implored.

  “Now that’s the best idea you’ve had in a long time,” Michael concurred.

  “I will call the guys and get them to haul ass to Lewiston. How fast can you make it back to my place?” Rob asked.

  “Once I acquire a car, an hour tops,” Michael exhaled, “And Rob, I know some things went down between you and Tony, but we need him, man. Call him in too.”

  Tony was the Unit’s Communications Sergeant, but before he entered the Army, Tony spent a lifetime as a hacker. They were going to need his particular brand of expertise if there were going to figure out where the CIA was holding Emma. She was, after all, the necessary ingredient to getting Lizzie back.

  Michael walked out of the emergency exit and found the first car he tried unlocked. People really shouldn’t be so trusting. He opened the front door and lowered himself to the floor. Thirty seconds later, the car started. He got up, hopped in, and closed the door.

  “Hang on, Emma. I’m coming,” he thought.

  « Chapter Eight »

  Michael parked on the street in front of a two-story colonial style house. Rob
’s house had gray siding and maroon shutters. Michael walked down the curved walkway to Rob’s front door. He rang the doorbell and waited. Michael was the second to arrive at Rob’s house. Steve must have been close by because he was already there. Michael walked in and Rob walked straight up to him, locking his sad eyes with Michael’s, silently pleading for his forgiveness.

  Rob’s face was flushed, and he was blinking back the tears at the thought of betraying his best friend, his brother. Michael wouldn’t have understood what Rob did before meeting Emma, but now he understood completely; one does anything for love. Michael took Rob’s hand and shook it and then bumped fists with his brother. Rob pulled him into a one-arm embrace, and the men patted each other on the back.

  Seeing Steve hanging back, Michael walked over to him and extended his hand, but to his surprise, Steve pulled him into a hug. It had been six months since they’d left the Army, six months since he had last seen his brothers. Still he knew, without a doubt, they would all come.

  About an hour later, Tony rolled in straight from the airport. He picked up his rental car and drove straight to Rob’s house. It was a good thing Rob liked his guns. His house was filled with weaponry in every corner and every cabinet. All of it would come in handy for this mission.

  They were missing Kevin, but they couldn’t call him in on this. They all worked private security, except Kevin. Kevin was with Homeland Security. For what they had in mind, they needed to stay off the radar.

  Michael and Rob briefed the men on what they needed to know. They told them how a terrorist cell had kidnapped Lizzie and forced Rob to find a way to deliver Emma and her knowledge of the biochemical weapon delivery system. They revealed Michael and Emma’s plan to kidnap the terrorist waiting on Emma at the drop point. They filled their brothers in on the events that led them to that exact moment.

  “Tony? How are you with a Dell laptop?” Michael asked.

  “All I need is an internet connection. The equipment doesn’t really matter,” Tony explained. Michael pulled Rob’s laptop out of his case and handed it to Tony.

  “All I have is a license plate number. I need you to get me every possible piece of information you can from that. Can you do it?” Michael begged.

  “Can I do it? Can I do it?” Tony bantered. “Give me the number,” he demanded, all joking aside, as he sat down and went online.

  In under three minutes they had a name, Special Agent Daniel Ingrams with the CIA.

  “Why would the CIA kidnap Emma? If they wanted the prototype she was working on, all they had to do was go through the proper channels to get it,” Michael wondered as he paced back and forth in front of Rob’s bay window.

  “What do you want me to find next? Bank statements? Property listings?” Tony asked.

  “Yes,” Michael replied.

  Over the course of the next hour they had Ingram’s bank statements, his real estate holdings, and even his career achievements with the CIA.

  “I hate to ask this of you Tony, but I don’t see how it can be avoided,” Michael grumbled.

  “Just spit it out. You know I will do it,” Tony demanded.

  “I know, that’s why I hate to even ask,” Michael warned. “I need you to hack into the CIA database and find out what Ingrams was working on? What he would possibly want with Emma?” Michael pleaded.

  “The CIA, that’s going to be tough. For anyone that isn’t me,” Tony quipped.

  Michael smiled. He knew he could count on his brothers. This breach took longer than the last several. It was two more hours until Tony had information for Michael and the Unit.

  “It doesn’t look good brother,” Tony said as he stood so Michael could sit down and view what Tony had been looking at. Michael inhaled deeply as he realized the amount of shit they were in.

  Michael explained to his brothers exactly what Tony had found. Special Agent Daniel Ingrams had lost a friend in Algeria to the GIA. He had worked the terrorist case for the last three years until about eight months ago when the CIA closed the case and handed the file to a junior agent to monitor chatter.

  “So he is using Emma to get to the GIA?” Steve interjected.

  “I don’t think so,” Michael responded. “Before he took her, he said he was going to kill her,” Michael said as dread crept up his throat.

  “If Ingrams kills Emma, the GIA will kill Lizzie. We have to stop him,” Rob exclaimed visibly shaking as he raked his hand through his hair. Lizzie was his life. She was all he talked about while on missions; getting home to his Lizzie.

  “Damn right we have to stop him,” Michael muttered more to himself than to his brothers. He couldn’t tell his brothers he had fallen in love with a woman over the course of two days. They would call him crazy. Still he knew he loved her. He knew it the moment Ingrams pointed a gun to her head. She created a paradox for him. Not only did she calm him, but erotic images she set off in his imagination were driving him nuts. She affected him the way no one else could.

  “So how do we find him?” asked Tony.

  “We follow the money. He has to have her stashed someplace. My guess is he is not a stupid man. He’s desperate, but not stupid. So he wouldn’t take her to some place he owns,” Steve answered calmly from the kitchen table, tapping his fingers against its glass top.

  “Let’s go through his bank and credit card statements, maybe we will get lucky,” Steve interjected. God, Michael hoped so. They had gotten lucky in the past. Still it wouldn’t hurt to say a little prayer. So, for the first time since he left Afghanistan, he prayed.

  “I found something,” Steve exclaimed.

  “What is it?” Rob asked.

  “Ingrams rented a cabin on his Visa card. He rented it for six nights and those six nights began yesterday,” Steve explained, waving the piece of printer paper in his hand.

  They had been at it for a good two hours printing all of his statements for the last eight months. They had been searching for anything that might lead them in his direction. Now they had it.

  “Where is it?” Michael insisted as he got up from his chair and came to stand behind Steve’s shoulder.

  “Wells, Maine. We’re going to Wells,” Steve stated.

  “We got damn lucky, that’s only an hour drive at the most,” Steve said.

  “Grab the gear,” Michael commanded. While Tony had been searching the internet, the rest of the men had been packing, packing as much weaponry and ammunition as they could carry. Each man picked up a bag and made his way out the front door, down the front walk to the street. There were going to have to take two cars and find a cargo van later. Each man threw a gear bag in the trunk of the two cars.

  “Guys, follow me down the street. I have to ditch this car,” Michael requested.

  They hopped in the cars, started the engines, and followed Michael into town. Michael pulled into an abandoned alleyway and wiped his fingerprints from the car. He got out and shut the door, carefully wiping his fingerprints from the door handle. He jumped into the passenger side of Rob’s car. The caravan of men started rolling down highway I95 to Wells…to Emma.

  “I’m coming, Emma. Hold on,” Michael thought.

  « Chapter Nine »

  A damp, musty smell assaulted her senses. She couldn’t see because of the single bare light bulb hanging in front of her, glaring into her eyes, while she imagined dark, damp corners. Emma tried to peer around the room. Next to the bulb was a metal, beaded string. Against the far wall sat an old green couch. The stairs were behind her. There were laundry hook-ups sticking out of the wall above the couch. The floor was concrete. She was in a cellar of a house, her hands tied to one of the exposed old, wooden beams that ran the length of the ceiling. When she looked up, she could see the wiring and cables stapled to and running atop the beams. Did he live here?

  “Don’t you touch me, you freak,” Emma screamed, as she dangled by her bound hands from the ceiling of the cottage’s basement.

  “You are going to tell me everything I want to know a
bout your boyfriend before I kill you,” Ingrams commanded as he ran his finger between her breasts.

  Emma wiggled and tossed her body away from Ingram’s hand.

  “Who is he, Ms. Welby?” Ingrams demanded.

  “Go to hell,” Emma exclaimed as she spat in his direction.

  He didn’t take kindly to the insult. Ingrams raised his right hand and backhanded her hard across her face. Her lip busted open and she sucked in the familiar metallic taste of blood.

  “We can play this game all night. In fact, we can play this game for the next four nights. But I guarantee you, you will tell me what I want to know. The question is, Ms. Welby, how quickly do you want to die?” Ingrams jeered as he wiped the line of blood trickling from Emma’s lip down her chin. Ingrams moved his face closer to Emma’s and licked at the blood removing it from her chin.

  “You’ve obviously suffered some kind of psychotic break, you sick man. You said you worked for the CIA. I don’t know anybody that works for the CIA that would treat a fellow colleague the way you’re treating me,” Emma snarled as she swung her legs away from Ingram’s body.

  “Tell me about him. How long have you known him? Does he know about the work you do for the DOD? Does he know about Project Hummingbird?” Ingrams growled as he pulled back his right arm and punched Emma in the stomach.