Retribution (SSU Trilogy Book 3) (The Surgical Strike Unit)
Read Retribution (SSU Trilogy Book 3) (The Surgical Strike Unit) Online
Authors: Vanessa Kier
Tags: #Fiction, #romantic thriller
Retribution
(SSU Trilogy #3)
by Vanessa Kier
*****
Retribution
Copyright © 2013 by Vanessa Kier.
Chapter 1
Dusk, Four Months Ago
Adirondack Mountains
“W
ell, lookee here, boss. Your lady sure does get around.”
Surgical Strike Unit team leader Rafe Andros took the binoculars from Muldovsky and focused on the rock face below the laboratory they’d been observing for the past two days. Part of the rock had slid open, revealing the narrow door caught on photos taken by the SSU’s satellite. Just outside that door, under one of the exterior lights, two women stood at awkward angles to each other.
Rafe felt a tingle of excitement across the back of his neck. The SSU had been watching the compound via satellite for a week prior to his team’s deployment. Thanks to the satellite photos, Rafe knew several troop transport trucks had driven through another door further down the rock formation, indicating a probable garage or loading dock. The women’s stark white lab coats suggested there were also labs on that lower level.
He didn’t recognize the dark-haired woman on the right, smoking jerkily on a cigarette. She wasn’t part of the group of scientists and other staff members that was bused to and from the housing village every day. Since the mystery woman had to be sleeping somewhere, it was likely the underground portion of the facility also held living quarters.
Which meant more places for Rafe and his team to search for Nate Ngoro, their missing teammate.
Rafe shifted his binoculars to the woman on the left. Dr. Gabrielle Montague. One of the scientists the SSU’s satellite had recorded entering and leaving the upper lab.
His men liked to tease, but damn, she made him hot. He’d always loved smart women and intelligence was stamped on every line of her face. A clip held her honey blonde hair behind her ears, revealing a long, stubborn shot of jaw that ended in a slightly square chin. Rafe found perfectly symmetrical beauty boring and Dr. Montague’s slightly too-wide nose pushed her past beautiful straight into fascinating.
The photos in her background file showed a woman with the sensual, curvy body of a flamenco dancer, but looking through the binoculars at the baggy fit of her institutional gray pencil skirt and bulky lab coat, he’d have to say she’d lost weight. Still, even with her being too thin he had a hard time keeping his eyes off her.
Too bad her presence made her a suspect in Nate’s disappearance.
“Yo, Addison,” Muldovsky called through the com link. “Guess who’s outside? It’s boss man’s lady. And he’s staring at her legs again.”
“Hey, can you blame him? She’s looking mighty fine for a dead woman.”
There was no disputing that comment. Four months ago Dr. Montague had been listed among the fatalities in a bus crash on her way home from vacation. In fact, all of the staff here, except for today’s mystery woman, were similarly not-dead-as-reported.
Of those staff they’d managed to identify from the photos, all had worked in the medical field. Dr. Montague’s expertise was treating veterans who’d been exposed to chemical or biological agents. The other doctors specialized in such diverse topics as drug rehabilitation, hypnosis to cure obsessive-compulsive disorder, and the use of growth hormones. There were three psychiatrists, ten medical doctors, sixteen lab assistants, and six administrative staff. All working at a facility that didn’t show up on any public or private records.
A snort came through the com link. “Hell, you boys got it wrong,” O’Ryan pitched in. “Andros thinks the doctor has Ngoro stashed up her skirt. Never mind that Ngoro’s like, six-four and a gazillion pounds, and Montague’s lucky if she’s five-seven and a hundred thirty.”
Rafe ignored the gibes of his men. They’d caught him doing a double take over Dr. Montague the first time he’d seen her on the other end of his binoculars, and suddenly she’d become “his” lady. Like none of them had admired the feminine shape of her legs or the curve of her ass. Out of the handful of female staff, her combination of mature intelligence and sexy grace caught his attention over the perky young lab assistants or the dour senior female scientist.
The corner of Rafe’s mouth lifted as he was hit by a memory.
“Why do you get to go after the girl?” Rafe had groused to Kai Paterson when he’d been given this assignment over a month ago, “while I’m off trekking in the woods with a bunch of smelly, foul-mouthed men?” But he hadn’t been able to stop the smile from teasing the corners of his mouth.
Kai, Rafe’s brother-in-law and fellow SSU agent, had laughed and lightly punched him on the shoulder. “Because you’re the ex-Ranger, my friend. You’re the one trained in covert rescue and assault. I’m just a scientist turned spy.”
If Kai could only hear the teasing Rafe was getting from his men, he’d bust a gut laughing.
Rafe saw the women’s mouths move even though they stood at right angles to each other, heads turned down and away from the rock face. “Christ,” he breathed. “Even a two-year-old could tell they’re not gossiping.” The smoker jerked her cigarette to and from her mouth like a sideshow robot and Dr. Montague had her arms wrapped around her torso so tightly she was in danger of breaking her own ribs.
“They might as well wave a sign saying ‘We’re up to something,’” he muttered in disgust, handing the binoculars back to Muldovsky.
Muldovsky focused the glasses, then nodded. “Yeah. Amateurs.”
Even without the binoculars, Rafe continued to stare in the direction of the women. Unpredictable events always added spice to a mission. Maybe the women were just griping about their boss, or maybe they were planning trouble. Either way, he’d make sure nothing stopped his team from finding Nate.
“Bus is here,” Willits announced from his spot closer to the upper level entrance.
As if she’d heard him, Dr. Montague glanced at her watch then bolted back into the building. The other woman stayed to finish her smoke, then she, too, retreated into the rock face.
Rafe touched Muldovsky on the shoulder and nodded toward the upper entrance to indicate he was switching locations. Moments later, Rafe slid into position beside Willits in time to watch the last of the scientists exit the building.
Where was—?
Dr. Montague dashed out the door and joined the end of the line.
Ah. There she was.
As the staff members shuffled toward the waiting bus Dr. Montague swayed, then stumbled against the man in front of her. He turned and grabbed her arm, helping her regain her balance. The man’s sharp expression of concern had Rafe zooming his binoculars onto her face.
He frowned. She had the tightly drawn expression of someone barely hanging onto her strength. Was she sick? Reacting to some chemical in the lab? Or was her stumble faked?
Rafe shook his head. Not his problem. She was involved in whatever was going on here, which made her weakness his advantage.
Five weeks ago, the privately run SSU had been hired by the Department of Defense and the FBI to look into the reappearance of military and federal law enforcement personnel who’d supposedly been killed in action. In each case, the circumstances surrounding the deaths had made body retrieval impossible. At least two of the “dead” later turned up in remote towns not far from this compound, pumped up on a new blend of steroids and homicidally insane.
Rafe had spent five weeks investigating. Then his teammate, Nate Ngoro, had been reported as killed during a joint special operations training exercise two weeks ago. The only problem was, Nate’s subdermal tracking device, which ran off his body’s electrical impulses, had continued to transmit to the SSU for a week after his “death” until the signal finally vanished at these coordinates.
“I count Dr. Montague as the last one out,” Rafe said over the com link as she leaned heavily on the handrail in order to pull herself onto the first stair of the bus.
“Ditto,” O’Ryan answered.
The door closed behind Dr. Montague and the bus pulled out of the small parking lot. As it disappeared into the trees, Rafe announced, “Bluebird is on the move.”
“Roger that, Team One.” Six of Rafe’s men had stayed behind to search the staff village, and would take up positions along the perimeter to watch the scientists during the night.
“Don’t worry, we’ll keep your lady nice and safe,” Rick Depaoli, the head of Team Two drawled. “Got to admit, though, her underwear drawer was a disappointment. Boring white cotton. I was hoping for at least a little lace to counteract that mind-numbing gray uniform.”
“Asshole,” Rafe said with a laugh. He shifted his binoculars back to the building that housed the labs and waited. Exactly ten minutes from the moment the bus pulled out, the interior of the building went dark, leaving only the exterior security lights to provide illumination.
“Is the security night shift here yet?” Rafe asked.
“Heading your way,” Addison replied from his spot further down the road.
Rafe signaled for his men to return to camp. They’d grab a quick bite to eat, then sneak into the building once the guards had a few hours to grow complacent.
By now, the bus would have reached the gate in the chain link fence that enclosed the three wooded acres with walking paths immediately surrounding the lab. Two acres beyond that first fence, though, was a second fence, well hidden by bushes. The type of fence usually only seen at high security prisons. Electrified. Slanted in at the top and capped with enough razor wire to make Edward Scissorhands jealous. The gate to that fence always slid into an opening in a fall of rock just before the bus came into view.
Why did the facility need a fence built to keep people inside? And why didn’t they want the scientists to know about the second fence?
Tonight, Rafe intended to find out.
F
ingers shaking, Gabby Montague flinched as she pulled out the clips that kept her chin-length hair from swinging into her eyes. Dammit, she couldn’t go on like this. After just seven days of working in the clandestine part of the lab, there were hollows under her cheeks. Dark pools of fatigue lurked under the thin skin around her eyes.
Thank heavens, it would all end tonight. Her nerves were so taut, even with sedatives she couldn’t sleep more than an hour or two at a time, jerking out of sound sleep with her heart racing and her body poised for flight. Tension had stolen her appetite so completely, she barely managed to eat enough to keep her strength up.
God, what Kaufmann did to his subjects sickened her.
And she’d been helping him.
Gabby shivered. Four months ago, after the veterans’ home she’d been working at had burned down while she was on vacation, a slightly distant, unfailingly polite and supportive man calling himself Dr. Pierce had offered her a job continuing her work. He’d had references from a researcher she’d trusted, so Gabby had agreed to join Dr. Pierce at this remote location.
She’d thought she’d been working on a legitimate project aimed at lessening rages in veterans exposed to biochemical agents. Until last week, when she’d returned from her lunchtime walk and found the front door locked due to another glitch in the spotty security system. While searching for another way inside, she’d stumbled across a door set in what she’d thought was a wall of rock and discovered the secret lab.
The red power lights of the security cameras had been dark when Gabby entered, indicating they weren’t working. Hoping to find a way back upstairs, she’d started exploring, and come across a scene that starred in her nightmares. Her patient, Michael du Braise, knelt over a man in a sandy arena. Du Braise lowered his mouth to the man’s throat and tore into it with his teeth while scientists looked on, writing furiously in their notebooks.
Horrified, and determined to figure out what the hell was going on, Gabby had snuck into some of the labs and stolen notes and test tubes.
She pressed the heels of her hands against her eye sockets. All illusions about her mission had shattered that day. As soon as she’d managed to get back to her lab and look at the samples under the microscope, she’d known she was onto something deadly.