Special Forces Rendezvous

chapter 13



The next morning, Sebastian woke up to the sound of his cell buzzing beside his head. Twelve years in the military—six of them working black ops—had given him the ability to go from a deep sleep to awake alertness in the blink of an eye. As his arm shot out to grab the phone, he slid into a sitting position without skipping a beat.

“Tell me you have some news, Captain,” he said instead of hello.

“I do,” Tate confirmed. “Not sure if it’ll pan out, though. Are you still in Arlington?”

“Yes.”

Next to him, Julia stirred in bed. She opened her eyes and glanced over at him, covering her mouth as a yawn overtook it. “What’s going on?” she murmured.

“Tate,” he mouthed, before shifting his focus back to the call.

“Eva has been burning the midnight oil for the past three days researching everyone who is currently or has ever been connected to D&M Initiative,” Tate was saying.

“The lab Dr. Harrison worked at?”

“That’s the one. Anyway, she linked a dozen individuals to Project Aries. Some scientists, an epidemiologist, a few lab techs, a research assistant. She managed to hack into one of the technicians’ files and found a digital copy of a confidentiality agreement he was asked to sign.”

Sebastian snickered. “You talk, you die?”

“Wasn’t worded quite that way, but pretty much, yeah.”

“Did she find out who hired D&M to develop the virus?”

“Nope. She’s still looking, but there’s so much red tape that it has to be a government contract. For now, we only know the D&M personnel who were involved in the project, and we think we know which one of them sold the virus.”

His spine stiffened. “Have you confirmed this?”

“Not yet. That’s why I called. We need you to pay the man a visit.”

“Who is he?”

“Dr. Stephen Langley. He’s a scientist at D&M. We’ve been vetting all the names and his raised a few red flags. There’s some suspicious financial activity in his bank accounts, and he was up to his eyeballs in debt up until two weeks ago. I’m talking millions in credit card bills, unpaid loans, huge sums to several loan sharks. We’re thinking he racked up the debt gambling—the man flies to Vegas at least once a month, according to his travel records.”

“And now all his debt has miraculously been erased?”

“Yep,” Tate replied. “And there’s no way his D&M salary was responsible for that. Dr. Langley got his hands on a large amount of money. Eva still hasn’t found all of it—he’s stashed it in various accounts all over the world, but each and every significant deposit or transfer occurred two weeks ago.”

“So he sold the virus to the ULF and pocketed a crapload of cash.”

“That’s what we’re thinking, but I need you to find out for sure. Langley is still employed at D&M, but it’ll be next to impossible to get to him there. It’s a highly secure research facility, and that building can’t be breached, not without a lot of careful planning that we don’t have time for. But we have his home address. I’ll text it to you after we hang up.”

Sebastian slid out from under the covers and stood up, balancing the phone on his shoulder as he grabbed his cargo pants from the chair beneath the window.

“Would this guy really be that stupid?” He couldn’t control his skepticism. “To keep working at D&M after stealing a biological weapon from the facility?”

“It’s actually a smart move,” Tate pointed out. “It would look suspicious if he up and quit, and then two weeks later a virus wipes out a small town in New York state. Best course of action would be to hide out in plain sight. Work at the lab for another month or two, avoid suspicion and then take off once the dust has settled.”

Sebastian zipped up his pants and fumbled for a shirt. “Good point. Okay, so I’ll pay a visit to Langley. Rough him up a bit, see if I can get him to talk.”

There was a long pause. “Yeah, I don’t know if that’ll be an effective approach.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Langley was a research scientist for the CIA for two years before he moved to the private sector. They recruited him right out of college, which means he was CIA-trained.”

“Which means the concept of keeping his mouth shut was drilled into him in very painful ways.”

“If Langley really sold out his country, I’m fairly certain he won’t own up to it. Not unless you present him with evidence of his guilt. And even then, he won’t talk without trying to strike up some kind of immunity deal.”

Sebastian mulled that over. “Fine.” A grin stretched across his mouth. “Then let’s give him immunity.”

* * *

“This is the craziest plan ever,” Julia hissed nearly ten hours later. She followed Sebastian to the front stoop of Stephen Langley’s Georgetown brownstone, feeling incredibly ill at ease in her sleek black pantsuit. She adjusted the collar of her white shirt, then smoothed a hand over her hair, which was pulled back in a tight chignon. She felt like a total fraud in the getup, and the newly procured fake ID, clipped to her front pocket, felt like a big, scarlet L burning a hole into her breasts. L for liar.

She couldn’t believe they were actually doing this.

Scratch that—she couldn’t believe Sebastian actually thought they could pull it off.

“Just follow my lead,” he said in a voice so calm she resisted the urge to smack him. How did absolutely nothing daunt this man?

This entire day had been one long worry fest for Julia. She’d worried while they waited for her latest false ID, which they’d needed to match the one Sebastian already had on him. She’d worried when they’d left the motel to purchase their snazzy black suits, then at the office depot where they’d printed out the files Eva had emailed. She’d worried as they’d watched Stephen Langley park his silver Mercedes in his driveway and amble into his home.

And now she was in full-blown panic mode, because although she was many things, an actress she was not.

Sebastian rang the doorbell, then rapped his knuckles on the front door, which was a dark-stained oak.

From the corner of her eye, Julia studied his clean-shaven face, a shocking change from his usual stubble-covered look. He appeared younger without all the scruff, but at the same time, far more lethal. The angular lines of his chiseled face were more pronounced, lending him a dangerously sexy vibe. And the man looked incredible in a suit, that was for sure.

Footsteps thudded from the interior of the townhouse. A moment later, the door opened and a short man with brown hair and a slight potbelly appeared in the doorway. “What do you want?” he demanded, narrowing his eyes at them.

“Dr. Stephen Langley?” Sebastian said pleasantly.

“Who wants to know?”

In one swift motion, Sebastian unclipped his ID card from his breast pocket and flashed it at the scientist. “Agent Shane Swanson, Department of Homeland Security. This is my partner, Agent Francis.”

Keeping her expression cool, Julia flashed her own card. Her heart was beating so loudly she was surprised Langley didn’t comment on it.

“Forgive me if I request a closer look,” Langley said snidely. He held out his hand.

They promptly dropped their IDs in his open palms. He examined them for so long that Julia was convinced he knew they were fake, but Sebastian had assured her that the badges were flawless. They even contained an actual DHS contact chip that was apparently linked to a real file for both “agents.” Earlier, when Sebastian had revealed how much those IDs cost, she’d almost passed out.

As usual, Sebastian remained composed as Langley’s perusal dragged on. Just when Julia thought the scientist would call them out as liars, the man’s lips thinned in distaste and he handed them back the IDs.

“What can I do for you, Agents?” he asked in a clipped tone.

“We’d like to come in and ask you a couple of questions,” Sebastian replied, equally terse.

Langley frowned. “May I ask what this is pertaining to?”

“Have you been watching the news today?”

“A terrorist group is holding a gun to our country’s head. What the hell do you think?”

“Good, so you’re aware that in thirty-six hours, a very deadly virus might potentially be released in one of our fine cities.” Sebastian’s mouth tightened. “Our questions pertain to that, Dr. Langley. So you can either let us in, or we can bring you back to DHS headquarters. It’s your choice.”

Without a word, Langley opened the door wider and gestured for them to enter.

Julia released the breath she’d been holding. She was so impressed with Sebastian’s superior acting skills that it took all her willpower not to high-five him.

They followed Langley down a spacious corridor with wood-paneled walls. The stocky man no longer wore the blazer he’d had on when he’d come home; he’d changed into a blue cable-knit sweater that was a little too snug for him, outlining the paunch of his stomach.

He led them into a large den that smelled of leather, firewood and cigars. The Burberry carpet beneath their feet and the expensive artwork on the walls revealed that Langley liked his surroundings fancy. According to the file Eva had compiled, the microbiologist also owned a villa in Greece, a racehorse he stabled in Kentucky and a yacht that had almost been repossessed before he’d cleared his debts.

Julia wondered if he’d paid for all these luxuries with the money he made from gambling, or if he’d started gambling to support his life of luxury. She suspected it was the latter.

“Look,” Langley said as he flopped down in a leather armchair adjacent to a stone fireplace, “the Pentagon already contacted our lab yesterday morning after the Dixie attacks. The director of D&M briefed us about it, and blood samples from the Dixie victims are already being analyzed in our facility. We’ve been working around the clock to learn as much as we can about what killed those people.”

Smirking, Sebastian settled on the brown leather couch opposite Langley’s chair. “Around the clock, huh?” He checked his watch. “Huh. Seems to me it’s only seven in the evening, and you’re here at home rather than at the lab.”

Langley’s brown eyes flashed with indignation. “I had dinner plans I couldn’t reschedule.”

Julia sat next to her “partner” and raised a brow at Langley. “And I’m sure the fact that your facility happens to be the lab that engineered the virus also reduces some of the urgency,” she added graciously. “After all, you and your colleagues already know everything there is to know about the Meridian virus.”

As expected, Langley pretended to look outraged. “That is categorically untrue,” he snapped. “D&M had nothing to do with the manufacturing of this virus.”

“Of course not.” Chuckling, Sebastian leaned over to unsnap the leather briefcase he’d brought with him. He extracted a heavy stack of papers, peeled off the first few sheets, and placed them on the oak table between the couch and the armchair.

Suspicion clouded the scientist’s eyes. “What’s this?”

“Take a quick peek.”

Langley gingerly picked up the papers as if they were laced with anthrax. When he glanced at the first page, his eyes widened for a moment before growing shuttered. “What’s this?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“That’s a log of all the researchers involved in Project Aries. As you already know, Project Aries was the code name for the development of this biological weapon.” Sebastian paused. “The same biological weapon you sold to a terrorist group two weeks ago.”

The scientist recoiled, his face going white as a sheet, but he recovered quickly. “You’re accusing me of conducting business with terrorists?”

“It’s not an accusation. It’s a fact.” Sebastian gestured to the stack on the table. “It’s all there, Langley. The financial trail that led us straight to you. We’ve also got photographs of your rendezvous with the man you gave the virus to.”

Julia held her breath again as the bluff hung in the air. It was the only piece of information Langley could actually call them on, but they’d needed to make him think they had more than just his shady financial dealings. They’d tried to keep their claim as vague as possible, deducing that Langley would have had to meet someone from Escobar’s militant group and chances were that contact would be male.

When Langley flinched, she knew they’d hit the nail on the head. So he had met with a member of the ULF.

“Now here’s the thing.” Sebastian hurried on before Langley demanded to see said photos. “Our boss doesn’t take kindly to traitors, Doctor. Neither does our boss’s boss—who happens to be the President of the United States.”

There was a brief silence, and then Langley moistened his lips. “I want a lawyer.”

Julia and Sebastian exchanged amused looks.

“Uh-huh,” Sebastian said good-naturedly. “Of course you do. But you see, when a scumbag American scientist sells a deadly biological weapon to a terrorist cell, there’s no such thing as lawyers. Or rights, if you feel like tossing that word around. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll be detained at a government facility where lawyers and basic human rights don’t exist. You’re former CIA, so you know exactly what kind of facility I’m referring to, don’t you, Langley?”

There was no mistaking the flicker of panic that lit the man’s eyes. “Screw you,” he hissed out.

“Now, now,” Sebastian chided. “We’re trying to help you here.”

“Help me?” Langley’s mouth twisted in a bitter scowl. “It sounds like you’re trying to railroad me.”

“We’re giving you a chance to make this right,” Julia spoke up in a soft tone.

“I’m not doing a damn thing,” Langley muttered. “I’m no fool, Agent Swanson.” He glared at Sebastian. “If I really did what you’re accusing me of—and I’m not admitting to a goddamn thing—then we both know I’ll be executed for those crimes. There is no making it right. Your boss, and your boss’s boss—” sarcasm poured from his voice “—will have my head for this. So lock me up in one of your little torture facilities. You won’t be getting a confession from me. You won’t be getting cooperation from me either. Not unless I’m fully protected.”

Julia sighed. “That’s what we figured you’d say.”

Next to her, Sebastian shoved his hand into his briefcase again and removed a thin stack of documents. He tossed the papers on the table.

“We’ve been authorized to offer you immunity.” He sounded as if he vehemently disapproved of this “offer,” and Julia had to hide a smile. Damn, he was good.

On the armchair, Langley blinked in surprise. “Ridiculous.”

“We’re not fools either,” Sebastian retorted. “You’re a company man. We knew exactly how you would respond, even when faced with irrefutable evidence of your treason. You’ll be granted full immunity for your cooperation. You won’t be held responsible for the selling of the virus, or charged with any related crimes. It’s all outlined in the agreement.”

Langley reached for the papers. Without a word, he read through the documents, then raised his eyebrows when he reached the last page. “This was signed by the secretary of the DHS.”

“Trust me, Gallagher didn’t like doing it,” Sebastian said irritably. “But none of us had much of a choice. Lives are stake. Lives that are far more important than yours.”

“It says here I get immunity in exchange for information leading to the successful apprehension of the ULF cell and the successful recovery of the virus.”

“Like I said, we’re no fools. If your intel doesn’t help us catch these bastards, then what use are you to us? The agreement becomes null and void in that case.”

Julia leaned forward and met Langley’s eyes. “Your choice, Doctor. You can sign your name on that dotted line, or you can rip up the agreement and come back to DHS headquarters, where I guarantee your lawyer will not be waiting to greet you.”

Langley scowled again. “What exactly does ‘cooperation’ entail, Agent Francis?”

“If you were the one who sold the virus, then you would have a protocol for contacting the ULF militant group, would you not?”

“Stands to reason,” he agreed, remaining deliberately vague. “If I sold the virus, that is.”

Julia shrugged. She suddenly realized her pulse was steadier than a metronome, and that she was no longer sweating beneath her pantsuit. This play-acting thing was actually kind of fun.

Deadly virus about to be released?

The ominous reminder snapped her into a somber mood. “We would start there,” she told Langley. “You’re going to set up a meeting with your contact—tonight.”

Langley protested. “I can’t arrange a meeting on such short notice. If I was able to arrange a meeting at all,” he amended quickly.

“You’re damn well going to try,” Sebastian snapped. “Thirty-six hours, Doctor. In thirty-six hours, that virus will be released. On American soil. Has that sunk in yet, or are you still living in a fantasy world where you think you can sell a bioweapon to a group of psychos and there won’t be any consequences?”

When Langley blanched, Julia took control of the conversation once again. “You’ll say whatever you need to say to get your contact to meet with you tonight. Our team will be monitoring the exchange, and if we’re lucky, your terrorist friend will lead us right to his terrorist friends.”

“So what’s it going to be?” Sebastian asked amiably. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, removed a ballpoint pen and placed it next to the immunity agreement.

After several minutes of stonefaced silence, Langley reached for the pen.

* * *

Sebastian never would’ve dreamed that this harebrained scheme would go off without a single hitch. Yet here he was, sitting in the front seat of an unmarked sedan and monitoring the movements of a rogue scientist who was about to meet a bona fide terrorist for a clandestine rendezvous.

To Sebastian’s delight, Langley had folded faster than a cheap tent in a hurricane, and once the man had signed that forged immunity agreement, the floodgates had opened and his story had poured out. He’d told them about the gambling debts he’d accrued over the past few years, admitted to having a wee bit of a cocaine problem, confessed that he’d been paid a substantial amount of dough for his work on Project Aries, yet apparently not substantial enough to put even a chip in his mountain of debt. When the loan sharks and creditors came knocking, Langley had panicked and done the only thing he could think of—sold a deadly virus to a terrorist group.

Right, because that was always the solution to money problems.

Sebastian focused on the corner coffee shop, watching Langley’s every move. The scientist was at a table on the outdoor patio, both hands wrapped around a foam cup of coffee. A muffin sat on a napkin next to his cup but he hadn’t taken a single bite.

This entire “operation” had come together at lightning speed. Langley had actually impressed the hell out of Sebastian when he’d contacted the man who’d handled the cash exchange for the virus. Like a true former operative, Langley had lied through his teeth as he’d made a case for why he needed a last-minute meeting.

“Nobody told me the virus was going to be released in America!” Langley had raged. “I didn’t sign up for this! If I’m going to be indirectly responsible for killing my own people, then I want more money, damn it! And if I don’t get it, I’m going to the Pentagon with what I know and telling them all about you and your sadistic little group!”

The speech was so polished that Sebastian had to wonder if Langley had intended all along to hit the ULF up for more money after he’d heard about the Dixie attack.

Langley’s contact had agreed to the meeting at the same coffee shop where the original exchange had apparently taken place. Only this time, Langley was wired and Sebastian could hear every word being spoken across the street. The transmitter was the size of a watch battery, expertly sewn into the starched collar of the scientist’s button-down, and Sebastian had the option to turn it off with the click of a remote, on the off chance that the ULF man swept Langley for wires. The nifty piece of spy equipment had cost more than Sebastian had earned during his entire military career. Good thing Nick could afford it, Richie Rich that he was.

“This is so cruel,” Julia murmured from the passenger seat.

He glanced over in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

She nodded in Langley’s direction. “He thinks he has immunity. He thinks he’ll walk away from all this scot-free.”

“Don’t tell me you think he should.”

“No, of course not. Look, what we did was callous—we pretended to be federal agents, we brought a fake immunity agreement with the forged signature of a government official. We played him, Sebastian, and that was a crappy thing to do.” Her delicate features hardened to steel. “But it needed to be done. That man placed a deadly virus in the hands of terrorists who then went on to murder an entire town of people. He deserves to be punished, and he sure as hell deserves to be lied to.”

Admiration soared through him, along with a spark of apprehension. He’d never met anyone like Julia. She was no weak-willed damsel. She didn’t cave under pressure, or get all self-righteous when they were forced to employ less-than-honest tactics to accomplish their goal. Despite her initial trepidation, she’d given an Oscar-worthy performance for her role as “Agent Francis,” and now here she was, refusing to apologize for their underhanded ploy.

No doubt about it, this woman might actually be his perfect match.

But the realization only deepened his apprehension, bringing a tremor of fear and quickening his pulse. Christ. He couldn’t be thinking things like that. Julia was confident and brave and sarcastic and wonderful, but this was a temporary affair. A few days or weeks heating up the sheets, enjoying each other’s company, and then they’d go their separate ways.

That was the only way to keep her safe. The only way to protect her from the goddamn curse he’d been burdened with.

“I think that’s him,” Julia suddenly whispered.

A nondescript black SUV had pulled up at the curb in front of the café. Ignoring the No Parking signs featured prominently all over the street, the SUV stopped a few yards from the outdoor patio, and then a man with tanned skin and a goatee emerged from the driver’s seat. He was clad in khaki pants and a white button-down, but he carried himself like a soldier. Sharp gaze, aggressive stride, precise movements.

“He got here fast,” she added, and Sebastian could see the wheels turning in that sharp brain of hers. “The group’s base has to be close, then. Either an hour’s drive or a short plane ride.”

“Maybe. Or they might have men stationed all over the country, which means the virus could be anywhere.”

Julia bit her lip. “Good point.”

“We don’t have time for your hysteria,” an accented voice crackled in Sebastian’s earpiece.

Across the street, the ULF representative had joined Langley at the table. Sebastian couldn’t see the man’s expression, but the anger staining his tone revealed his precise thoughts about this meeting.

Sounding equally pissed off, Langley recited the same speech he’d given over the phone, ending with, “I want another million. Otherwise I go to the Pentagon with what I know.”

A Spanish expletive echoed in Sebastian’s ear.

“What are they saying?” Julia demanded, looking frustrated that she didn’t have her own link to the feed.

“Arguing about money,” he told her, then held up one finger to silence her. “Wait, the ULF rep is actually agreeing to pay up. Wow. That was fast.”

But Sebastian suspected the decision was more about getting Stephen Langley out of the ULF’s hair than the belief that the scientist raised legitimate concerns.

“Enough,” the soldier snapped. “Stop sniveling. You’ll get your money.”

“Same transfer instructions as before,” Langley ordered. “I expect the funds to be in my account when the banks open tomorrow morning.”

When he noticed the ULF terrorist shifting on the wrought-iron chair in impatience, Sebastian turned to Julia and placed a firm hand on her cheek. “It’s time for you to go.”

She nodded, her expression all business. “Be careful, Seb.”

Leaning close, he lifted up the bottom of her fitted black jacket and gestured to her holstered Beretta. “I know you took an oath, but if Langley tries anything, you shoot the bastard, you hear me?”

She gave another quick nod. “All right.”

Conversation continued to buzz in his ear, one line in particular making him take notice.

“And do yourself a favor, take the money and get out of town. You won’t want to be in this city thirty hours from now.” Sebastian could practically hear the smirk in the terrorist’s voice.

“What is it?” Julia demanded. “What did he say?”

“He told Langley to get out of town.” Sebastian’s jaw went rigid. “Holy hell. I think they plan on releasing the virus in D.C.”

He cut off her answering gasp by planting a hard kiss on her lips. “Go, Doc. I’ll contact you on the prepaid when I know more.”

Without another word, Julia slid out the passenger door of the sedan and casually headed for the unmarked Crown Victoria they’d rented earlier today, which was parked on the curb a dozen yards away. He watched her for a moment, then shifted his gaze in time to see Langley’s contact impatiently rise to his feet.

Sebastian started the engine and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a rush of adrenaline entering his bloodstream. When the black SUV drove away from the curb, he began his pursuit, hoping this stakeout would actually amount to something. The hours in Escobar’s deadline were slowly dwindling away, and it didn’t seem like the Pentagon was making any headway in finding Escobar and his men.

Sebastian had checked in with Brent earlier in the day, but the DoD agent admitted to having no leads. Video experts were attempting to pinpoint Escobar’s location based on the video he’d sent to the media, but they hadn’t made any progress, and apparently the White House had dozens of scientists racing to develop an antidote in the unwelcome chance that the virus was released to the public. No progress on that front either, but Brent had thanked Sebastian profusely for the sample and research notes he’d provided. He’d also yet again urged Sebastian and Julia to come in as official witnesses, which they’d yet again refused.

Now, as he tailed the SUV through the streets of D.C., he considered bringing Brent into the loop again, then decided it might be prudent to wait. Might as well make sure this entire evening didn’t turn into a wild goose chase before he brought Davidson in on it.

“Come on, man, where the hell are you going?” Sebastian muttered.

He stayed two cars behind the ULF man, growing warier by the second as they headed toward the northeast end of the city. The farther they drove, the worse the neighborhoods became. Dirtier streets, more graffiti, less upkeep of the homes and buildings. They ventured into one of the poorest areas in the city, maneuvering through residential streets bathed in shadows thanks to numerous broken lampposts. Finally, the SUV slowed in front of a dilapidated clapboard house with a saggy roof and an overgrown front yard.

As the SUV pulled into a gravel driveway overrun with weeds, Sebastian drove directly past the detached home, keeping a diligent eye on the rearview mirror. Langley’s contact had hopped out of the SUV and was stalking toward the green front door of the house.

“Have we found your official lair, boys, or is this just a safe house?” Sebastian murmured to himself as he steered toward the end of the street.

He executed a U-turn, parked the sedan at the curb underneath a busted streetlight and rummaged through the go bag he’d stashed in the backseat. He removed his suit jacket and hurriedly unbuttoned his white dress shirt, exchanging them for a snug black long-sleeve made of lightweight material. Then he strapped on a belt and attached the sheath of his bowie knife to it, shoved a pair of field glasses in his pocket and tucked two nine-millimeters into his waistband.

Armed and ready, he slipped out of the car and darted toward a narrow ramshackle house with all its lights off. He disappeared into the shadows, hopping fences and sneaking through yards as he made his way toward the ULF safe house. The street was surprisingly quiet considering it was located in a poverty-stricken, high-crime area. Sebastian heard the faint sounds of rap music wafting from one of the houses in the neighborhood, along with loud laughter and male voices in one of the backyards, but he didn’t encounter any problems as he neared his target.

He initially positioned himself across the street, pressed against a tall wooden fence between two detached houses, also in run-down condition. The field glasses revealed three dark-skinned men brazenly walking past the large bay window at the front of the clapboard house. Interesting. So they weren’t concerned about snipers being perched outside.

He watched for nearly twenty minutes, but he didn’t see anyone else. There were at least four men in there, though. The trio he’d spotted, and Langley’s contact.

Let’s see how many more of you there are.

He abandoned his post and moved several houses down. As he climbed the roof of a darkened home, he prayed that the lack of lighting and no car in the driveway meant the residents were out, because the roof creaked like crazy, making him cringe with every step. Stealth was impossible to achieve when you were scaling walls and roofs that hadn’t seen any maintenance in decades.

The new vantage point provided him a clear line of sight to the side of the house. Two more windows, and a side door. This time he caught a glimpse of Langley’s contact, talking with another stocky, bearded man who didn’t belong to the window trio. The tally went up to five men. Sebastian waited, then relocated once more.

During his third sweep, he spotted none other than Raoul Escobar himself.

A shocked hiss flew out of his mouth.

Fishing his cell phone from his pocket, he quickly dialed Tate’s number. Despite the late hour, Tate picked up on the first ring. “What’s up?”

“I’m pretty sure I just found the location of the ULF terrorist cell,” he murmured, keeping his voice lower than a whisper.

Tate barked out an amazed curse. “You serious?”

“I’m looking at Escobar’s face as we speak. He’s holed up in a house in D.C. with five other ULF soldiers. There could be more, but six total is the current head count.”

“You think the virus is in the house with them?”

“I’m thinking yes. No matter what these bozos call themselves, we both know they’re not real terrorists, at least not in the same league as al Qaeda or other terrorist cells. They released their demands to the press instead of the White House, for chrissake. And honestly? A part of me wonders if they even have a real protocol for releasing the virus.”

“Well, they found a way to release it in Dixie,” Tate pointed out.

“Yeah, a tiny town with a tiny water treatment facility that anyone can walk into. They’ll need a lot more planning if they want to release this thing into D.C.’s water supply.”

“D.C.?”

“Makes the most sense. Why else are they holed up here in the city?”

Tate was silent for a second. “This could be a decoy house. Make us think that they’re keeping the virus here and that they plan to release it nearby, but really, there’s another cell in L.A. or New York or God knows where, ready to contaminate the city’s water supply on Escobar’s order.”

“Could be, but Escobar’s presence makes me think otherwise. He’s the leader of this wacko ULF splinter group and my gut tells me he would want to stay close to the virus. It’s his ticket to demolishing the American influence in San Marquez and his quest for national purification, or whatever the hell he was preaching about in that video.”

“Well, either way, Escobar needs to be taken into custody. Can you handle it?”

Sebastian’s gaze drifted to the ULF house, such a small, innocuous structure yet too damn big for one man to tackle on his own, even a man as well-trained as he was.

“No can do, Captain. We’re looking at nine potential escape routes—front, back, side doors, six windows. If I burst into the place guns blazing, I might take down a tango or two, but I won’t get them all, and there’s no guarantee I’ll get Escobar. With all those exit points, these tangos will have multiple places to flee like rats. And I should note—I have no idea what kind of hardware they’re packing. I counted six or seven assault rifles inside, AKs and M16s, but there aren’t any guards posted at the exterior, and no perimeter whatsoever.”

“Which means they’re confident about the interior security measures they’ve employed,” Tate finished. “My guess? The entire place is rigged to explode.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Sebastian released a heavy breath. “I can’t breach this house on my own, Captain. Not without the risk of Escobar or one of his men escaping with the virus.”

“I could send Prescott.”

“Still won’t be enough.” Clenching his teeth, he stared at the house in the distance, then sighed again. “There’s only one thing I can do.”

“Which is?”

“Officially come out of hiding and turn myself in.”