Page 20 of Reclaimed (Hostage Rescue Team)

Breaking eye contact with her, he nodded at the man beside him and spoke in Arabic, either not realizing or not caring that she might understand. “Take her outside. We’ll get started soon.”

With that pronouncement he walked away, leaving her in agonized anticipation of what was coming.

****

Adam stifled an irritated sigh and rubbed at his burning eyes before focusing back on the satellite image displayed on the large flat screen mounted on the wall at the end of the room.

A Jordanian intelligence official was detailing the features of a remote village up near the northern border with Syria. The ATB and other militants were known to use the area for infiltrating across the border and back, and some analyst somewhere thought this might be a likely place for them to stash a couple of captives.

Adam was fast moving past being frustrated into angry territory.

They still didn’t know where Summer was, or the name of the person behind the attack. It was driving him insane. The longer they sat here on their asses, hoping for something helpful to come in, the higher the chances were that Summer and the others were running out of time.

Nothing they’d tried so far had yielded any results. Both locations they’d scouted before dawn this morning hadn’t turned up anything.

Everyone they’d questioned so far claimed to know zip about yesterday’s attack or abductions. None of the intelligence sources had panned out. All the satellite and drone footage they’d reviewed so far had been useless.

He shifted restlessly in his seat, the need to get up and do something constructive pricking him with a thousand sharp needles.

The door swung open and the director walked in, heading for the front of the room with purposeful strides. DeLuca was right behind him. “Sorry for the interruption,” he began, taking his place in front of the desk. The Jordanian officer stepped aside to give him room. “I’ve just received confirmation of who was behind the attacks.”

Adam’s spine jerked taut. He leaned forward, all ears.

The director paused a moment to type something into the laptop sitting on the table, and a man’s picture came up on the screen. “Tarek Hadad.”

Adam stared at the picture, didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until his lungs started to burn. His knuckles ached from the pressure of squeezing his hands into fists.

Now he had a name and a face for his target. That fucker had taken his wife. The need to storm out of the room and hunt the bastard down was so strong it was all he could do to sit still.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder. He glanced back to find Cruzie behind him, his teammate’s golden brown eyes intense. “We’ll hunt him down, man.”

Adam nodded and turned his attention back to the front. He couldn’t wait for the chance to get out there and nail that motherfucker.

The director glanced at him briefly, then continued. “He’s a mover and shaker within the ATB. Over the past few weeks he’s been escalating his operations within Syria, trying to gain favor with the higher-ups. No one’s sure when he made it across into Jordan. I’ve got analysts working on the details now and I’ll pass it along to you as I receive it.” He paused a moment, signaling something else important was coming.

Adam didn’t have to wait long. Out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of DeLuca watching him, but ignored that, too focused on what the director was about to say.

“Another point of interest is that over the past few months, the ATB has been closely affiliated with the Qureshi network, run out of Afghanistan and tribal Pakistan.”

At the mention of Qureshi, Adam, his teammates and the director all turned to look at Schroder. The former pararescueman’s face was blank with surprise, obviously not expecting this little twist.

“In light of the situation and the tight timeline we’re working with, I’ve already taken the liberty of contacting Taya Kostas,” he continued, naming Schroder’s girlfriend before nodding at DeLuca. “You all know her, and what happened to her. After reviewing her previous interviews and court transcripts, we feel she may have more relevant information that might be of use to us in this investigation.”

Schroder rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin, looking uneasy at the announcement.

A knock came at the door and an aide popped her head in. “I’ve got Ms. Kostas on the line,” she said. When the director motioned her over, she passed him the phone. “It’s on speaker.”

“Ms. Kostas, this is Director Foster. I’m here with SA Schroder and his team, along with some other intelligence officials. Thank you for your time.”

“It’s my pleasure,” she answered, her soft, calm voice filling the room. “I was told there’s something to do with the Qureshi network you wanted to speak to me about.”

“That’s correct. Before this goes any further, I need to inform you now that everything about this conversation is classified.”

“Understood, and my phone is secure.”

Adam listened as Foster detailed what was going on, bringing her up to speed on the situation with Summer and the other two hostages. He told her the bare basics only, leaving out the details.

“Summer Blackwell,” Taya said. “You mean Adam’s wife?”

---