Operation Zulu Redemption--Complete Season 1 (77 page)

“Sir?”

“I’d like you to keep a close eye on Solomon.”

Trace blinked. The general? No, he must mean the daughter. “She’s fine, sir. I have—”

“
General
Solomon,” Cantor clarified.

Again, Trace blinked. “I… we—am I missing something, sir?”

Cantor exchanged a look with Goff then sighed. “We have reason to believe Haym may be in danger.”

“You think he’s a target?”

“I think he
is
danger.”

Trace’s mind was starting to feel like a pretzel. “Ballenger knows he’s the one who sent Zulu in?”

“Just keep your eyes on Solomon, Colonel.” Cantor gave a firm nod then turned and started for the door. Trace watched the two leave without another word and closed the door behind them.

That was bizarre, to say the least. Trace shook off the scowl and confusion. Insanity.

“Boss-man?”

“Right,” Trace said, turning. “Sorry. What did you want to show me?”

“I think Cantor might be right.”

Trace frowned. “How’s that?”

“The trajectory lines of Batsakis’s reaction…he was looking at the officers.”

“We know that—the five Aznar warned us about.”

“Yes, but when I used other videos and footage,” Houston said as he moved the mouse and clicked a few screens. “I figured out
who
he reacted to.”

Trace would kill the guy if he didn’t get to his point soon.

“Sir, it was General Solomon.” Houston’s eyes were wide. “What if Cantor is right—what if Batsakis is going to kill Solomon?”

Téya

Reston Town Center, Reston, Virginia

July 4 – 1945 Hours

“Why are you doing this”

Francesca Solomon glided around in her tight black evening gown. She gave a cool, unaffected air as she smiled at Téya. “Doing what?”

“Getting under our skin,” Téya said with an even smile. “Being a pain in the backside.”

“Maybe it’s what I do best,” the woman replied, unfazed by the confrontation.

“That’s for sure,” Téya said. “That and destroy lives.”

“Sorry, dear. You did that on your own.”

“Mm, perhaps, but did Trace?”

“Dial it down, ladies,” Trace’s voice cut into the coms. “Focus on the task at hand.”

“Yes, and let’s be grateful we weren’t forced to wear formal dress uniforms,” Francesca said. “We’d stick out like sore thumbs.”

“More like gaudy targets,” Téya said.

Francesca laughed. “At least we can die in the company of good-looking men.” She nodded to a well-muscled man in a suit. “I didn’t know they grew the charity types so brawny.”

Téya had to admit Solomon was right. She’d seen a handful of hunks wandering the event. One had flirted with her at the fountain.

“Now, there’s a sound I haven’t heard in a while,” General Solomon said as he and Cantor joined them, flanked by two others: one a colonel and a peer to the first two. The younger, however… Tall, handsome, a little on the lanky side. But not hard on the eyes.

“Ladies, this is Sergeant First Class Goff and his father, Colonel Goff.”

Téya and Francesca greeted them, Téya taking in the newcomers’ uniforms. The younger Goff had an air of determination she’d often seen in men like Trace and Boone. Colonel Goff bore the full bird, being a rank higher than Trace. But at the man’s age, she’d have expected him to have attained a higher rank. Maybe he hadn’t entered service young like his son, who had enough medals and recognition pins to serve as a Kevlar vest.

Téya tilted her head, eyeing his left shoulder. Over the Airborne patch, he wore the blue Ranger tab. Ah. That explained the no-mess attitude. She wanted to trade stories with him, but she’d tip her hand if she did.

“Keep up the casual banter,” Trace intoned in their ears. “But stay eyes and ears out.”

Right. Because in fifteen minutes the fireworks display would start. That would be the prime opportunity to shoot someone or blow something up and attract not a lot of attention. So, basically, she had fifteen minutes to live.

Music drifted into the night. Attendees grouped up and headed for the wooden dance floor covering the center of the pavilion. Cantor extended his hand to Francesca, who graciously accepted.

Téya hated dancing but couldn’t exactly say that when the younger Goff offered his hand. She smiled and accepted. He led her onto the dance floor.

“You’re not wearing your uniform,” he said.

Téya’s heart thudded hard.

“Don’t worry,” he said, easing in and holding her close. “I’m not the threat. I’m part of the protection detail. My team is here.”

“Rangers?” she asked, leaning back to eye his uniform again.

“5th Group.”

Arching an eyebrow, Téya appreciated the news. “Special Forces. With a Ranger tab.”

“What can I say?” He grinned. “I’m just that good.”

“Téya, he knows you’re the asset. That’s all,” Trace’s warning came through the coms quiet but strong. In other words, don’t give him more info than he needs.

Goff talked casually and laughed a lot, but she noticed his gaze never stopped roaming. Neither did hers. Any second she expected to feel heat and pain explode through her back.

“You here?”

Téya flinched. “What?”

“You zoned.”

“Sorry.”

“Guess you can take the girl out of the uniform, but not the uniform out of the girl.”

“Something like—”

A familiar face bobbed between two dancers in the crowd. Familiar. Very familiar. She followed with her gaze, her breath jacked up into her throat. She saw—Téya sucked in a hard breath.

“Hey.” Goff tightened his arm around her. “You okay?”

“He’s here,” she breathed, frantic.

“Téya?” Trace’s voice was clear, distinct. Terse. “Who’d you see?”

Her mouth went dry. She realized she wasn’t dancing anymore, but she didn’t care. She pushed through the crowd, plunging in the direction she’d seen him. It was like trying to swim up a raging river, the throng of partyers unyielding as she tried to push past them.

“Téya, what’s happening?” Trace asked. “What’d you see?”

Him. She saw
him
. Her mind raged, demanding she verify who she’d seen. Demanding she find him. Téya sprinted around a corner. Saw a door close. She raced after it.

“Téya! You’re out of line of sight.”

She sprinted for the door.

“Téya!”

She jerked open the door and stepped in. The door slammed shut behind her. She stopped short.

Felt a poke against her back.

“Thank you,” a man’s voice breathed down her neck. “Thank you for helping me avoid listening ears.”

Her coms was still in place. She could still hear Trace shouting for someone to find her. Go after her.

“You and your sisters—how foolish to come here. To set a trap for me. You see? The one for whom you set the traps has sprung the traps.” He chuckled.

Téya shifted.

He pressed the gun harder into her back. “Uh-uh-uh,” he grunted. “Keep your hands where I can see them, or I’ll be sure you can’t lift another finger ever again.”

“What do you want, Ballenger?”

“I want to know why you’re with Queen of Sheba? Why would the angels of Zulu taint themselves with the blood of the pagan queen?”

Téya scowled. What was he talking about? “She’s helping us find you.”

He laughed loud and hard. “Helping you? Find me? But dearest, I’m right here. And where is she? Dancing with a soldier.”

“Téya, stay cool,” Trace said. “We’re coming for you.”

“Ah, my good Colonel,” Ballenger said. “No need to treat me like the enemy. We are on the same side, you and me. We want the same person dead.”

Téya’s heart thudded. He knew Trace was listening. And if he knew that—would he kill her?

“Tell him I hear him,” Trace said.

Wetting her lips, Téya gathered her courage. “He heard you.”

“Oh, I know he does.” Ballenger chuckled again. “He should be asking himself how I know that. I’ve given him the clues he’ll need to end what he’s been trying to end for five years. But I’m not convinced he’s paying attention.”

“I am!” Trace shouted, his voice panicked. “I’m listening, Ballenger.”

“He said he’s listening,” Téya said, her breaths coming in gulps.

“Oh, I’m sure he is. I have his girl here. Though, not his favorite. That’d be Palermo, wouldn’t it? Or maybe he now likes the Queen of Sheba.” Ballenger caught Téya’s hair in his hand and jerked her head backward.

She yelped but quickly braced herself.

“See, he’s not interested in you because you belong to another.”

“No,” Téya said. “I belong to no man.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Ballenger said as he drove the gun into her cheek and then grabbed her hand. “This mark says differently.” He leered down at her. “Do you know what this scar, this burn means?”

“I need plastic surgery,” Téya ground out, focusing her energy. Focusing on how to disarm him without getting her head blown off.

He guffawed. “No wonder he claimed you.” He grabbed her hair again and tugged her toward the door. “No, this mark means if I kill you, he will kill me. It guarantees your death will only come at the hand of one man—The Turk. And if it doesn’t, then there will be hell to pay for whoever robbed him of the pleasure.”

“What do you care?” Téya growled.

“Oh, I don—”

Téya snapped around. Flicked her hand in a palm-strike against the weapon, knocking it out of his hand. She drove the heel of her other hand into his chin. But he deflected just in time.

Ballenger stumbled. Reared back with the butt of the weapon.

Clink. Clink. Clink!

Téya saw the gray canister tumbling toward them. She threw herself around, opened her mouth, held her breath, and closed her eyes.

Booom!

White light exploded through her thin eyelids, searing her vision. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

Trace

Reston Town Center, Reston, Virginia

July 4 – 1955 Hours

“Where’s Téya? Anyone got the twenty—”

“Got her, got her,” Sam’s voice carried through the coms. “She’s okay. Came out the south side of the Hyatt.”

“Flash bang,” Téya breathed.

“Who threw it?” Trace demanded, feeling powerless up in the suite with the analysts and not on the ground protecting his team. Anger churned through him. Ballenger had gotten to one of the girls again. And again he hadn’t killed her. He was toying with Zulu, but Trace wasn’t sure why. What the point was.

And Ballenger had a point.

“Trace,” Téya coughed out his name. “He was here.”

“Who? Ballenger? Yeah, we figured that—”

“No,” Téya croaked out with another cough. “The Turk.”

Trace hung his head. The night could not get any worse. “Okay.” No it wasn’t okay, but what could he do? He needed time to think. “Come up here and—”

“No.” Téya’s voice was suddenly clear. But then she barked, her throat no doubt burning from the gas in the flash bang. “No, I’m not leaving the ground. He’s here. That means he wants something.”

“You in a casket?” Annie said.

“If he wanted that, he wouldn’t have saved me from Ballenger.”

“Maybe that’s why he did save you—so he could kill you.”

“Enough,” Trace said. “Get out there. Eyes open, everyone. Showtime—fireworks going off in five.”

Planting his hands on the window ledge, Trace bent forward. Pressed his head to the glass. What was Ballenger’s game?

“It was so weird,” Téya said, “the way he kept calling Francesca the Queen of Sheba.” Even as she talked, Téya moved back toward the fountain. “I thought for sure that was going to be it.”

“Trace.” Annie’s voice, clear and precise, broke through the din of chaos in the command center and into his own fried brain.

“Go ahead.”

“Something’s not right. Ballenger isolated both of us but didn’t take the opportunity to kill us.”

“Maybe he was distracted by the Queen of Sheba,” Téya said.

“I resent that name,” Francesca said. “I’m not even Ethiopian. I’m Italian American.”

“My favorite food,” Téya shot back. “But maybe that’s what we can call you now.”

“Fine as long as I get the temples.”

“The what?” Téya asked.

“Oh come on,” Francesca said. “Tell me you don’t know Bible history. King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba had a thing. So, if I’m going to be the Queen of Sheba, I want my handsome king and the temple.”

Wait. Trace froze. Wait wait wait.

“… wisest man in the world…”

Ballenger said that to Annie. He’d taunted them about the wisest man. Then he’d said something to Annie about palaces and temple.

Queen of Sheba
.

King Solomon was considered the wisest man in the world. Solomon’s Temple. Solomon and the Queen of Sheba…

Trace lifted his head. The data wall! The icy touch of dread filled his gut. “Heads up,” Trace snapped. His gaze hit the man in uniform. A man he’d considered a friend. A man who had been his confidant.

Hollow ringing in his ears made Trace feel light-headed. This cannot be true. He couldn’t…it was circumstantial. Right?

“Just keep your eyes on Solomon…”
Cantor’s concern about the general—it wasn’t because he was in danger. It was because he was the danger.

Trace spun to Houston, who was already watching him expectantly. “Can you get me a secure link to Six?”

Houston stared for a second, confused. Then blinked. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Do it.” Trace hurried to the tech geek’s side. Waited as he called up Nuala then handed him the phone. “Six.”

“Sir?”

“We are on a secure, isolated channel. I need you to focus on one target. And one target only. Stay on this target no matter what. If he does anything, anything you deem dangerous, you take the shot. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” The tense affirmation told him she understood. “But, sir? Who’s my target?”

“General Haym Solomon.”

Francesca

Reston Town Center, Reston, Virginia

July 4 – 2003 Hours

For the first time in her life, she felt like she fit in. Only she didn’t.
Couldn’t
, because these ladies, this team, hated her. She had nearly ruined their lives. Had their commander arrested and imprisoned. He’d lost his career because of her. And yet Francesca never felt more at home, never felt more herself than she did with them.