Morgan's Wife Read online

  “And what about Laura?” Marie asked tearfully. “What will he do to her?” She gazed around at the set faces of the men, seeing the grim lines of their mouths. None of them would meet her eyes. “Oh, dear…”

  “Look,” Wolf said impatiently, standing again, “we can’t afford to let our imaginations get the best of us. We need cold, clear-headed tactics.” He nailed Killian with a searching look. “Will your wife take care of Katherine? She’s Laura’s cousin, right?”

  “Yes. I’m sending Susannah home to Kentucky—to her parent’s farm. She and Katherine will be safer there.”

  “Have Morgan’s parents been contacted?”

  “No,” Jake said heavily. “I was waiting until we could get a group of us together to figure out our plan of attack. But they need to be called and informed now.”

  “I can do that,” Marie volunteered, making a note on her pad.

  “Fine. Wolf, your specialty is communications. I want you to be our liaison with the Pentagon. Killian, I need a lieutenant to talk things over with, someone to help me make final decisions.”

  “I’ll hang around,” Killian said dryly.

  Jake smiled a little and rubbed his stubbled face. He needed a hot shower, a shave and some sleep. The first two he could get, but sleep would have to wait.

  “First we’ll try to intercept communications traffic and get a lead on where they’ve taken the family members,” Wolf said, thinking out loud.

  “From the message, it sounds like Ramirez has separated them,” Jake said. “They could be anywhere in the world. Anywhere.”

  “It’s like searching for three needles in a haystack,” Wolf agreed unhappily, pacing the length of the room.

  “I know.” Jake moved his shoulders to release some of the tension that had accumulated there.

  Killian looked at Jake. “Who’s going after Ramirez and his goons?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Jake admitted heavily. “We’re shorthanded. I’m going to go through the mission roster with Marie to try to cut loose some people to help us.” He knew neither Wolf nor Killian would go. Wolf had quit the mercenary business almost a year ago, and he and Sarah were going to marry at Christmas. Killian was happily married and not about to risk everything—especially with Susannah four months pregnant. Jake didn’t blame his friends for not volunteering for this kind of mission. If he took it, he knew Shah would raise all kinds of hell. Of late, they had grown inseparable, and Jake didn’t want to risk their happiness on this level of danger.

  Besides, the three of them had worked together for a long time, knew one another and how they thought. In a crisis like this, they’d be more useful in a behind-the-scenes overseeing role. “Somehow we’ll find the teams,” he muttered.

  “Do you want me to contact Alyssa and Noah?” Marie asked.

  “We’d better,” Jake said ruefully. “If we don’t, there will be hell to pay.” Lieutenant Commander Alyssa Cantrell was Morgan’s younger sister, a navy pilot. Jake had no idea where she and her husband, Clay, were stationed. He did know that Commander Noah Trayhern, Morgan’s brother, was in the Coast Guard and, with his wife, Kit, lived in Miami, Florida. Noah and Morgan’s parents, who lived nearby in Clearwater, would be easiest to reach. “Try to contact them through nonmilitary channels if you can, Marie.”

  She rose, nodding, but gave him a questioning look.

  “Ramirez has enough money to buy state-of-the-art telecommunications equipment that rivals anything the military has,” Jake explained. “If we send these messages via the military, he might pick up on them and get an idea of our movements. I don’t want him to know a damn thing if we can help it.”

  “I see,” Marie acknowledged. She tried to smile, but failed. “I’ll have dinner brought into the War Room for all of you.”

  Jake nodded. “Thanks, Marie.” After she left, he turned to his comrades. “This is a hell of a bind.”

  Wolf stopped pacing, his hands on his hips. “Ramirez will kill them. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Yes,” Killian agreed quietly. “He likes long, slow deaths. You know that, Wolf.”

  Harding nodded, his mouth a tight line. “I’m more worried about Laura. She’s the one really at risk.”

  “Ramirez won’t be easy on her,” Killian agreed. “When I was first captured in Peru, I was taken to a different cell block from you, Wolf. Ramirez and his goons raped women prisoners as part of their torture to get them to talk. No, you’re right—Laura has problems.”

  “And what the hell will they do with the boy?” Jake asked, his voice frustrated. “I mean, the kid’s innocent.”

  Killian gave him a flat look. “In our business, no one’s innocent.”

  “Why didn’t they take Katherine?” Wolf wondered aloud.

  “Probably because women are considered worthless—second-class citizens—in South America,” Jake muttered. “She wasn’t worth taking. You know how South American men think the world of their sons. Boys carry on the family name and honor. I’m sure that’s why they took Jason.”

  “Do you think he’s at risk?” Wolf asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jake hedged. “Knowing Ramirez and his twisted mind, he’ll probably stash the boy away somewhere and raise him in the cocaine empire. That’s the way Ramirez is, you know. He’d think that was the ultimate revenge on Morgan—turn his son into a cocaine trafficker—or worse, a coke addict.”

  Wolf cursed and began pacing again. “There’s no question we’ve got to get to them. The sooner, the better.”

  “First,” Killian said, “we need a lucky break. Someone has to pick up communications between Ramirez and his worldwide cartel. We’ve got to get a clue to where they are.”

  “Our second problem is finding a team that can undertake the rescue once we do locate them,” Jake reminded his friends.

  “What do we have so far?” Jake demanded of his team. He was clean shaven, dressed in fresh clothes, and had even managed to snatch a little sleep. It was 2000 the next evening, and the three mercenaries were back in the War Room. Marie sat at the opposite end of the table from them, taking notes. A messy stack of papers still covered the shiny oval surface. On the wall, a map of the world had been pulled down for reference. Disposable cups littered the room, silent testimony to too many cups of coffee, and the burning stomachs and frayed nerves that went with them.

  “The Pentagon is working double time on telecommunications,” Killian reported. The Joint Chiefs of Staff have approved satellite telecommunication time for us. They’ve put a team of Intelligence people from the CIA on it, along with other military specialists. We’re getting more help than I anticipated.”

  “Good,” Jake grunted. “Wolf?”

  “I’m getting help from the FBI and DEA. They’re checking all flights from the East Coast to see if we can figure out how Morgan and his family were taken, and in what direction they went.”

  “Do you think there’s a chance they’re still in the U.S.?” Jake asked.

  “No. The FBI thinks they’re off U.S. soil.”

  Before Jake could speak, the door flew open. He reared back in surprise, automatically on guard. A Marine Corps officer, a lieutenant colonel, stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other on the doorjamb. His face looked stormy; his eyes were narrowed in anger.

  “Just what the hell has happened to Laura Trayhern?” he snapped, moving into the room and shutting the door behind him. “And what the hell are you doing about it?”

  Jake stood. He’d been in the Marine Corps himself for many years before leaving to work for Perseus. The officer in front of him was in his middle thirties, lean as a cougar. Jake noted the gold parachute emblem above his dark green, wool shirt pocket and the full set of colorful ribbons denoting his time in service. The officer stood rigidly, his hands curled into fists at his sides, his eyes accusing as they swept the room, then settled on Jake.

  “Who are you?” Jake demanded in a deep tone.

  “I’m Colonel Jim Woodw
ard, Intel, over at the Pentagon.” He gave a disdainful look around the room again. “Where’s Laura? What’s happened to her?”

  Jake held up his hand. “Calm down, Colonel Woodward. Are you part of the liaison the CIA put on telecommunications?”

  “Yes,” he said tightly, “I am. I’ve been pulled to oversee the operation. When I found out Laura was involved, I had to know a hell of a lot more than I was being told. That’s why I’m here. I’m an old friend of hers, from before she married Morgan. Now will someone fill me in?”

  Jake nodded. “Have a seat, Colonel.”

  Jim listened without interrupting. By the time Jake Randolph finished briefing him on the kidnapping, he couldn’t seem to settle his rapid pulse or ignore the fact that his hands were sweating. Laura was in danger. His heart contracted at the thought. It was nearly impossible to keep his face carefully arranged. When Jake asked if they’d been able to intercept any likely communications yet, Jim stood.

  Taking a piece of paper out of his breast pocket, he handed it to him. “I know where they’ve got Laura. We just picked up a sat-tel link off a small Caribbean island known as Nevis. It’s a tiny spot in the Windward Islands, off the coast of South America. The message is cryptic, but we got a lead on the transmission.”

  Jake frowned as he studied the paper. “How do you figure this, Colonel?”

  “I don’t know who transmitted—yet. I’ve got the CIA working on that angle right now.” Jim jabbed a finger toward the paper. “But it was transmitted from Nevis to someone in Dresden, Germany. It reads, ‘The Tiger is caged.’”

  “Why would that be Laura Trayhern?” Wolf demanded.

  Jim held on to his disintegrating anger. “Before Morgan came into Laura’s life, we had a relationship. I used to call her Tiger.” He felt heat creeping into his cheeks. “It was a nickname I gave her because she was the only civilian woman writer working at the Pentagon archives.” He felt foolish divulging the intimacy, but he had no choice.

  “I don’t know…” Killian began. “Isn’t that a bit of a stretch?”

  Woodward glared at the narrow-faced man sitting to Randolph’s right. “Not when the CIA has already confirmed that Nevis is home to a world-class drug dealer by the name of Guillermo Garcia.”

  “Garcia,” Harding growled. “Damn, he and Ramirez have been in cahoots for twenty years.”

  Jim smiled grimly. “I’m right and I know it. ‘Tiger’ is Laura.”

  “How would Garcia know that?” Jake demanded.

  “He’s probably drugged her and gotten a lot of personal info out of her,” Killian interjected.

  Just the thought of Laura being drugged, having her life bled out of her, made Jim sick to his stomach. “It’s just a matter of time until I get more info pinpointing Garcia as her captor. I’ve already gotten permission to move one of our spy satellites to that part of the Caribbean. Right now—” he glanced at his watch “—a U-2 spy plane is in the air, on its way to take photo reconnaissance over the island. I guarantee you, with those photos, we can pick up a gnat’s rear end at fifty yards. If my photo people see anything to suggest Laura being there, we’ll have our proof.”

  Relieved, Jake nodded. “I’m damn glad you’re heading up the Pentagon effort, Colonel Woodward. You obviously know what you’re doing, and you’ve provided more information than any other source so far.”

  “Well,” Jim rasped, “my association with Laura goes back a lot of years. She’s a special woman….” He avoided Jake’s probing gaze, cleared his throat, then looked back at him. “What plans do you have for infiltrating that compound on Nevis, Mr. Randolph?”

  Jake smiled for the first time, just a little. “We might be short on the information files, Colonel, but one thing Perseus does do well is mercenary work of any kind. This type of mission is right down our alley.”

  “I doubt it,” Jim challenged. He focused on the men one by one. “I thought this situation through on the way here. The dossier on Garcia I’ve got coming over to you from the CIA is substantial. They’ve got a blueprint of his estate, which is behind an iron fence ten feet high. He’s got guards and Doberman pinschers posted around his ten-acre kingdom. Nobody comes and goes from Nevis without him or his people knowing about it.

  “If you sent one of your men to the island, they’d find out instantly. They’d tail him, and chances are, they’d take him out at first opportunity. You don’t know what’s involved here.” He went over to the map and tapped the Caribbean area. “You need a HAHO,” Jim said, using the military acronym for a high-altitude, high-opening parachute drop, “onto that island in the dead of night. And you’ll need a specialist with maximum military parachute experience. Do you know how small Nevis is? It’s not much of a target. But if you tried to parachute from a lower altitude, Garcia would spot you, and you’d be dead before you landed.

  “Then if you get your man on the ground, he’ll need jungle experience. Nevis is heavily wooded and, because it’s so small Garcia’s people will certainly spot you, if the locals don’t. That is, unless you utilize maximum stealth technology.”

  “Hold it, Colonel,” Jake said heavily. “We have those kind of people on our payroll. Morgan rarely hires anyone who’s not ex-military. We’ve got ex-Delta Force and former Marine Recons. The problem is, we’re stretched too thin. We don’t have a team we can pull to take this assignment.”

  “You what?” Woodward’s mouth fell open and he snapped it shut. “You don’t have anyone assigned to fulfill this mission? It’s a priority.”

  “Don’t you think we’re upset about it, too?” Jake retorted, his voice irritated. “Unfortunately, Colonel, this world of ours is full of trouble spots. Many of our teams are on dangerous missions. We can’t just extricate them without jeopardizing their lives, or other people’s lives, in the process. It doesn’t make sense to lose two to six lives to save one.” Jake tapped a bunch of computer printouts. “I’ve gone through our mission list twice. The teams with experience are in situations where they can’t be pulled. The ones that can be pulled don’t have the background you’re talking about. I’m not about to put an inexperienced team into the type of situation you’re painting for us. We don’t throw our people’s lives away like the military does.”

  Woodward smarted under the remark. He felt heat rising from his throat into his face. Whenever he got angry, his face turned red, and he knew it. “This is an unconscionable position. You’ve got three lives—one of them the man who owns this damn company—at stake, and you don’t have anyone to run a rescue mission?”

  “Back down,” Wolf snarled, crossing his arms over his chest and returning Jim’s glare. “We’re doing what we can with the resources we have.”

  “I won’t back down.” Jim held his gaze for a long moment. “All right, then I’ll volunteer for the mission.”

  Jake’s brows knitted, and he studied Jim for a long moment before speaking. “This is personal, isn’t it? Between you and Laura?”

  “That’s none of your business, Randolph. What is your business is that you’ve got someone to take this mission. I can get orders cut to allow me to do this. I’m a Recon. I’m HAHO qualified. I’ve been in more jungles than I care to think about. I’ve been in Panama, Grenada and other South American venues on deep undercover assignments.” He stopped, his voice low and shaking with tightly held emotion.

  Jake glanced around the table, assessing his team for some inkling of their thoughts. Killian stirred and placed his arms on the table, clasping his hands in front of him. He glanced up at Woodward.

  “Laura is married to Morgan. They love each other,” he said quietly.

  Jim recoiled inwardly. “Don’t insult me with facts I already know.”

  Killian held his stare. “Mercs who have an emotional involvement with the person they’re trying to rescue don’t live long.”

  “That may be your problem, Killian, but it’s not mine.”

  With a shrug, Killian looked across the table at Wolf.


  Wolf said, “You’ll need a partner. We never go in alone. It’s two or nothing. Do you have someone in mind who has the same qualifications?”

  Jim hesitated. “Two?”

  “Yes,” Jake rasped, “two people on every mission. That’s Morgan’s law, and it’s a good one. If one partner is injured, the other can always bring him out.” He lowered his voice. “We have no time for heroics, Colonel. We work as a tightly knit unit and watch each other’s backs. I know Recons. I used to be one. You don’t go gallivanting off by yourselves, either. You have five men to a team and you know the value of working together.”

  “I don’t disagree with you, but I can’t honestly think of anyone who would volunteer for such a dangerous assignment. The one man who might be willing, a sergeant, is laid up in the hospital with a broken ankle right now.”

  Jake shook his head. “Colonel, this mission doesn’t go down without two team members.”

  Wolf slowly unwound from his chair. He rubbed his temple and looked first at Woodward, then at Randolph. “I know someone who can do it. Her name is Pepper Sinclair. Her brother’s a Navy Top Gun and a test pilot. She’s a team leader for the National Forest Service’s smoke jumpers. In fact, Pepper is in the Hotshots, the elite, highly trained group that goes into dangerous forest hot spots or wildfires. She’s got over two thousand parachute drops and is ex-army.” Wolf smiled a little. “Matter of fact, I’ve known her for nearly a year now, and her background is impressive. She was the only woman ever to complete Army Ranger training—but they wouldn’t let her graduate because she was a woman.”

  Jake twisted to look in Wolf’s direction. “What’d she do then?”

  “She quit the army. She was an officer, and she resigned her commission in protest over their decision. Pepper went into the smoke jumpers because it was the most dangerous career she could find where nobody cared about her gender. She’s got six years of military service behind her, and she was in Panama and Grenada, too, so she knows jungles. I think she’s around thirty years old, and she’s got a good head on her shoulders. Pepper doesn’t go off half-cocked on anything.” Wolf studied Woodward. “And in this case, that might be important, because, Colonel, I think you’re in this way over your head emotionally. You’re carrying a torch for Laura, whether she’s married or not, and that’s going to get you into trouble on this mission.”