Fearless: Complicated Creatures Part Three (40 page)

April—Evening

Safe House, Tel Aviv

R O X A N N E

M
eeting Sam’s A-Team
in real life was fascinating, considering she’d only run background checks on them or spied on them from afar. But this was all back when Rox was vetting them, before Sam hired them on at Lennox Chase. Rox had been elbow-deep in these guys’ underwear drawers and read their most recent annual physical evaluations and military psych evals, but seeing them up close and in living color was a whole different ball of
whoa
. As in, holy mother,
you’re-kind-of-fantastic
whoa
.

Simon Michaelson took one look at Rox as he strode into the safe house and pulled up short, grinning wide. “Who might you be then, love?” he asked, his expression equal parts cocky and charming. “If I’d known we’d be working with the likes of you, I’d have gotten here faster,” he purred, his Newcastle accent thickening as he prowled closer.

A reflexive download of what she recalled about him popped into her mind as she looked over the six-foot-six behemoth in front of her. Background: British SAS. Specialty: vehicular warfare. Strengths: cool-headedness under fire, mechanical proclivity, out-of-box thinking. Weaknesses: grand theft auto, sexual deviancy, friends in low places.

“Well, aren’t you… charming,” she answered, brows raised as he bent to kiss her hand with flourish.

Simon looked immediately put out. “It’s fine, you git.”

Rox laughed at the exchange, already liking Julien Henri, formerly of the French Foreign Legion. His specialty? Jungle warfare. Strengths: close quarter combat, knife work, and counter intelligence. Weaknesses: he’d been a child soldier in the Congo with an unknown former identity prior to being given one with the Legionnaires. Julien Henri was a real-life black box of secrets and mysteries. The things he must have seen…

“I hope I’m more attractive than Michaelson’s grandmother at least,” Rox remarked as Lee Talon walked into the room.

“Like that asshole has a grandmother,” Talon answered, dropping a bag of equipment onto the floor as he extended his hand. “I’m Talon,” he introduced.

Yes. Yes, you are
, Rox mused as they shook. Talon was a former Navy SEAL and one of Sam’s favorites. He’d been appointed to run the Chicago office of Lennox Chase while Carey took over as first chair for the firm. Lee Talon was one of the best sharpshooters in the world. He also had the most spectacular cheekbones she’d ever seen on a man.
Goddamn.

“So you’re Carey Nelson’s number two,” she murmured admiringly.

“I’d prefer it if you think of me as your number one.” He winked.

“You’re a bigger flirt than Simon,” Rox chided, glancing back at Michaelson. “But if you’re on the market, I hear his grandmother might be available.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my nan,” Simon replied, good-naturedly. “We still don’t know who you are, love.”

Rox opened her mouth to give them her latest assumed identity when Evan Rush walked into the room with Avi.

“You must be Lilith,” Rush said in a friendly voice as he put down some of their equipment. His smile was warm, and his thick Southern accent was incredibly appealing. He was also another one of Sam’s favorites. In addition to being a skilled breacher and explosives specialist for his SEAL unit, Rush was also a gifted Navy Corpsman. He’d saved Sam and Carey’s life more than once in the field, and to top it off, he had a smile that could light up a room.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” Simon remarked.

“Yes, I thought so, too,” Avi commented, a smile playing around his mouth as he set down more equipment. “Beautiful, yet treacherous.”

“Did Sam tell you guys anything about me?” Rox asked.

“Just that you’re running this op, ma’am,” Rush replied, all Southern gentleman. “I think I can safely speak for us all when I say we want Lucien Lightner dead, so you tell us what we need to do to make that happen, and we’ll do it.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rox murmured.

“I gave them the basic rundown on the way from the air field,” Avi told her as he stepped beside her.

“Is this the whole crew?” Rox looked the team over.

“We’ve got four more guys with us. They’re bringing in the gear from the second car,” Talon replied. On cue, the additional men came in, each carrying two massive ballistic nylon bags, full of equipment. Rush made introductions and Rox breathed an internal sigh of relief. There was Cameron Kurt, an all-American badass and former Green Beret that Sam had picked up from Leviathan. Anand Mahto was a whip-lean Nepali Ghurka with skin the color of rich cinnamon and a peaceful quiet about him that no doubt belied his lethal speed that was nearly otherworldly. Collectively, they now had two fire teams of four people each. Perfect. Things just got a hell of a lot easier.

Rox led them toward the make-shift command center she and Avi had set up in the dining room. She’d set up a mini projector to display images against the stucco walls. Blueprints and schematics of the Port of Ashdod laid spread out across the dining room table. They all crowded around the table.

“You all know the basic outline of the op, so let’s get down to brass tacks. Target is Lucien Lightner. Here is the new identity he’s assumed,” she told them, projecting a series of images from the fake passports Avi had supplied. “For this meet, he’s going by the name Phillipe Gerard.”

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s impressive,” Simon breathed, staring up at the image. “He looks completely different.”

“Eyes, ears, and head shape are the same,” Talon said. “Can’t change that.” And he would know. He’d spent the better part of his adult life staring at men’s heads through a rifle scope.

“That’s partially how I was able to pinpoint him with biometrics,” Avi confirmed.

“He’s reached out to an arms dealer named Uzi Dichter. We think he wants to buy guided aerial weapons—missiles, rockets, mortars—that sort of thing.” She projected an official Taas portrait of Uzi from the weapons manufacturer’s website.

“Those are big boys, as well. At least a hundred kilos and just a tick under a meter a piece,” Simon remarked. “He’d need a few armored vehicles or semi’s just to carry a significant load.”

“Or it could go by ship—makes sense to just load it all up in a container and send it that night labeled as commercial product or farm supplies,” Cameron Kurt pointed out. “It’d only take a day to get to the Suez Canal, and then all bets are off.”

“We’d need to cover all the docks closest to the meet. I could rig all the cranes up with small explosives on remote detonators—just enough to damage the main lines and long enough that nothing could be lifted on or off for at least a couple days, if we see them try to rig up Lightner’s container to a specific crane,” Rush commented. “Has Dichter told you which warehouse this will go down in?”

“Yes. Taas keeps a special reinforced containment warehouse there for their shipments to and from the port,” Avi told them. “Dichter skims from the top, marking surplus quantities as faulty and marks them for destruction when they actually have no QC issues. He sells those surplus pieces and no one’s the wiser. Been doing this for at least five years.”

Rox projected aerial images of a specific warehouse onto the wall before flicking off the lights.

“The Taas warehouse where Uzi Dichter set up the meet has four possible ground entries.” Rox pointed at the locations. “Two of them are cargo bays, one is an office entrance, and the second is a back door for workers.”

“How many windows?” Talon asked, already looking for a vantage point where he could set up a sniper’s nest.

“Sixteen,” Rox told him.

“How many fan vents are in the roof?” Henri followed up, peering at the details on the map.

“Seven, but they’re constantly going. You’d get sliced up trying to get in that way.”

“Are there sensors on the ducts?” Anand asked, undeterred as he came to stand by Henri.

“I’m not certain about the ducts, but definitely on all the windows and doors,” Avi answered, grimly. “We have to go in stealth. Just the Taas team alone will outnumber us, not to mention whoever Lightner shows up with.”

“He’d likely bring a team. Leviathan didn’t have a big presence in Israel, so they’ll likely be IDF or Palestinian mercs,” Simon observed, reviewing the schematics of the Port. “Knowing Lightner, even if he came in using an obvious point of entry, he’d want several contingencies just in case he feels boxed in or in the event that some unwelcome visitors show up.”

“The more I look at it, the more escape by water seems the most likely,” Rush remarked. “Plenty of places around those ships to slip away, especially with a speedboat or the right diving gear.”

Most of the team crowded around the table, studying the schematics and discussing possible methods of entry and escape. Talon, Henri, and Rush stayed in front of the projection of the warehouse.

“What are you thinking?” Talon murmured to Rush.

“No adjoining buildings are close enough for mouse-holing, so I’m thinking thermal breaching from the roof,” Rush responded, pointing to a couple spots near the massive fan ducts. “It’s slower, but it’s basically silent with a plasma torch, and we can make the points of insertion close enough to the fan ducts that any sound or movement will be disguised.”

“Does Sam want Lightner dead or alive?” Talon asked her.

“I think she’d take either at this point,” Rox replied dryly.

“Dichter and the Taas team will likely be speaking Hebrew,” Avi pointed out. “May I suggest I go in first to help get a handle on the situation as well as translate?”

“Anand and I should go in as well,” Henri offered. “We’re both the smallest and the best with knife work in close quarters. We can help get audio into place so we can hear everything during the exchange.”

“I’ll rig all the cranes with explosives and remote detonators first. Then I’ll work on getting something jerry-rigged for the warehouse itself,” Rush offered.

“Cam and I can set up blockades after Lightner comes into the Port,” Simon added, looking across the table at Cameron Kurt. “You game?”

“We’ll make sure that rat maze has nowhere for that bastard to go,” Cameron replied grimly. “He left me to get killed on that exchange with the al-Shabaab in Somalia, and if you, Sam, and Henri hadn’t come to get me, my ass would be grass. I’ll see that fucker in hell if it’s the last thing I do.”

That left her and Talon. He grinned at her, his dark eyes assessing. “Are you active on this op or staying on the sidelines?”

“Active?” Rox grinned. “Honey, I’m planning on being the one to put that asshole’s head on a spit.”

Talon’s answering smile was wide. “Yeah, you’re definitely one of us. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure at first, but consider me converted. How well can you shoot?”

Rox didn’t bother telling him that she’d been trained to shoot by her Delta Force brother. “Accurate to within three hundred meters,” she replied.

Talon’s brows raised as he whistled. “You single? Because you might be my girlfriend when this is all said and done.”

“You’ll have to fight me for her,” Michaelson declared, grinning.

“While it’s great you boys are lining up to piss on my leg, let’s remember why we’re all here, shall we?” As Rox turned back to the schematics, she caught the smug amusement on Avi’s face. “Lightner had Sam and Carey shot point blank in Rio,” she reminded them. Talon and Rush blanched. Rox turned to Cameron. “He left you to die in the desert.” Then her gaze swept to Michaelson. “And he killed and maimed hundreds of innocent people in London with that car bomb.”

“We all want him dead as much as you do, luv,” Simon agreed.

“Then we kill on sight,” Rox told the group plainly. “No exceptions.”

*

April—Late Afternoon

Houston, Texas

W E S L E Y

The last time
Wes laid eyes on Travis Brandt had been when he was still in college with Sammy at Texas A&M, right when they were having problems early on in their relationship. Travis had been Rob Wyatt’s protégé at the time, groomed to become a major player in Wyatt Petroleum and no doubt Rob’s pick for his little girl. At some reasonable and self-aware, mature level, Wes recognized the main reason he didn’t like Brandt was because he’d always feared Sam would end up with a guy just exactly like him. And in college, that had very nearly happened, though it’d been because Wes had his head stuck so far up his own ass, he’d nearly paved the way for it to happen.

Now, despite all of his own professional success over the years, the same intense hostility that came from feeling somehow
less
than a guy like Brandt with his old money, heritable pedigree, and shampoo-commercial hair still rankled him. Despite the fact that a dozen years had passed, Wes felt the same irrational insecurities as he stepped out into the cool travertine foyer of Brandt Energy Incorporated. A perfectly coiffed blonde, who could have been a beauty queen, smiled serenely as Wes approached the cherry wood desk she occupied.