They were well protected here, surrounded by reinforced walls and ceilings that prevented their heat signatures from penetrating and being detected by someone on the outside using heat-seeking instruments. And unless someone dropped a nuclear bomb on them, it was safe from blasts. Unless they sustained a continuous and heavy attack.
It was a leftover facility from the days when Titan worked under the U.S. government with full permission to carry out their missions using whatever means necessary. They’d been equipped with the best that money could buy. It was risky to come back here, but Titan had long ago been disbanded and only KGI and one lone CIA operative and his black ops team, who reported only to Resnick, the CIA agent, knew with absolute certainty that Hancock and his men were still alive and a definite threat to anyone who crossed their path. There was suspicion, especially among the upper echelons, those who’d had a part in Titan’s creation, that Titan was still operating. Or rather had gone rogue. But only very few knew that they were very much alive—and more dangerous than ever.
He had no worries over KGI, even though they weren’t exactly allies. Were they enemies? Only KGI could answer that, but they owed Hancock. He’d done much to safeguard Grace—and Elizabeth, an innocent child whose only sin was being born to a father who was wholly evil. Even if KGI hadn’t known that at the time. They still might not know.
And he’d sacrificed his mission for Maren Scofield—now Maren Steele—the closest he’d gotten to taking Maksimov down. Until now.
So he doubted KGI would ever sell him or his existence out, even if he had been responsible for injuries to two of their men. They were too damn . . . honorable. Veritable Captain Americas. Everything Hancock wasn’t and had no desire to be.
The CIA operative was another matter, but his government had turned on him, just as they’d turned on Titan. And even though Titan had damn near killed Adam Resnick and accessed his classified files, Resnick no longer had the allies within his own ranks to ever retaliate. He’d be a fool to go after Hancock on his own, and the man was no fool. He was cagey and smart and had dirt on everyone from the highest-ranking military personnel to the White House itself and everywhere in between. He was feared and hated by many. His days were very likely numbered. He had enough on his hands staying alive and away from those who would celebrate his death without adding Hancock to the ranks wanting him dead.
Those who now hunted Titan were nothing more than mercenaries. Not organized black ops groups. Few in the government knew of Titan’s existence to begin with. So it was highly improbable that anyone would search for them here. And certainly not when A New Era controlled so much of the area. Collecting a generous bounty for bringing Titan down wasn’t worth the risk of getting themselves killed in the process, and mercenaries had no concept of selfless sacrifice. Their mission wasn’t one of honor or for the greater good. Their only goal was to line their pockets and elevate their reputation.
“Everything’s locked down and secure,” Viper said as he stepped into the small room. “Conrad and Mojo have set up watch so they’ll know if an ant farts within a mile of our location.”
“Then you and the others bed down and catch some sleep until it’s time for your watch,” Hancock directed. “It may be the last night we get any sleep until we deliver the woman to Bristow.”