Operation Zulu Redemption: Hazardous Duty - Part 3 Read Online Free PDF Page B

them?”
    “Negatory.”
    Two and Six were behind schedule but not in apparent danger. Sometimes an op ran long. But Trace felt the tremor in the waters they’d stirred. Could something go
right
for once? “We don’t have time to worry about them right now,” he said. “We have to get up there and secure One.”
    “We’ll need a chopper and thermals.”
    “On it,” Trace said.
    “Let me help.” The Squid looked entirely too hopeful.
    “Not on your life,” Trace growled. “You’ll stay here—”
    “Don’t be stupid. I’m trained and I have the same objective—”
    “No.” Trace felt like an oil tanker parked on his chest. “No, you don’t.”
    “You want Ash—Annie back safely. Right? I’m not the enemy here, Weston.” Caliguari held out his hands in a placating manner. “I swear—I’ll play by the rules. I’ll do whatever you ask if it means I see her again and know she’s safe.”
    I should just kill him and get it over with. It’ll be less painful.

Francesca
Alexandria, Virginia
1 June – 0915 Hours EST
    Sitting in her small corner at Starbucks, Frankie clung to the delusion that she could hide from whatever and whoever had so brutally taken Samuel Caliguari. Even now, the memory forced her to gulp back the adrenaline. She’d never seen anything like that. Hiding in the open garage of one of his neighbors, she’d watched the scene unfold.
    Watched Sam rip his Charger onto a side road.
    Watched the first of the Suburbans broadside him in the turn. It’d looked like a freight train ramming a sedan. It slammed his car into a ditch, the Charger sitting at a steep angle. By the time the dust and smoke cleared, three more vehicles surrounded him. Men in head-to-toe tactical gear swarmed into position, their weapons trained on Sam.
    Through the cracked rear windshield she could see Sam moving slowly.
    Two of the tactical team pried open the driver’s door, almost having to lift it straight up because of the steep ditch. Sam climbed out and was immediately set upon. They shoved him face-first into the dirt. Hooded and cuffed him, then dragged him to one of the SUVs.
    Who were they?
    She tried Sam’s cell number again, though she wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t answered any of the previous fifteen times she’d attempted it. Frankie stared at her computer and phone. Varden had sent her to Caliguari, then the handsome SEAL ends up getting arrested.
    No, not arrested. She’d searched local authorities to find him and nobody had even heard of him, and the sheriff there in Manson said no raid had been conducted.
    So, what is going on?
    Was it Trace?
    Seriously, how much power could one man have? Who was the force behind Weston? She’d toyed with calling her father, but after Varden’s comments about him, she’d been left with more doubts than a loving daughter should have.
    Dad always put the military first. She hadn’t just known that, she’d
lived
that from childhood. It was no surprise then that his three sons would take a similar path. She had gone into the Air Force, not because she wanted to be like her father, but because he’d never liked that military branch and derided it much the way colleges did their fiercest rival. But taking the intelligence route—she’d done that because he’d been combat. And she wanted to show him she could make her own way in the military without Daddy’s golden glove greasing up the flagpoles the way he had for her brothers.
    A familiar form strode toward her, and Frankie quickly closed the open files on her laptop as he slid into the seat across from her. “Varden.”
    “A bit of unfortunate luck with Caliguari, I hear.” The beady eyes reminded her of dials on a laser scope, adjusting, calculating for a precise hit.
    “So it seems.” No way would she let him know how much this mess affected her.
    “I think we hit a sweet spot if that drew Weston out.”
    Keeping her face neutral, she processed his belief that the colonel was behind the hit