Page 11 of Covert Vengeance

If she hadn’t ditched the bike for something else, then she had to still be in the area. Jesse would follow her, but from a greater distance this time. He didn’t want to risk spooking her any more than he already had, because she was capable of becoming a ghost and dropping off the grid. If that happened he’d lose her, the money promised him, and the captive Valkyrie would die.

His new orders were to watch over Amber and wait until she found Hannah Miller’s location. As soon as that happened, he would step in.

Chapter Four

Hard at work gathering her latest intel, Amber froze on her bed when a baby started wailing next door, its plaintive cries coming through the plaster walls separating the small rental units. She looked up from the map she’d been studying on Lady Ada’s screen, an eerie shiver corkscrewing up her spine as she stared at the wall the cries were coming through.

She’d been trained to withstand many things, including pain and sleep deprivation, but that sound was designed to hit human beings in the primitive part of their brains that was hardwired to protect their offspring. A brief memory of SERE school flashed through her mind. Of being trapped in a wooden box while heavy metal blasted through speakers, mixed with the incessant crying of a baby.

She wasn’t claustrophobic and the dark had never bothered her. But that crying. It triggered the memory of the way Megan had cried so hysterically the day they’d been taken away from each other when they were little kids.

She compartmentalized it, shoving that memory back into the box it had come from, and tuned out the baby’s cries as best she could to focus back on the map. Last night she’d used the radio she’d stolen to monitor communication of her targets on two different frequencies. Guards talking to someone who she guessed was head of security in charge of guarding the men she’d just seen leave. And there’d been mention of captives, at least one of them female.

As far as she could tell, the head of security was escorting one of the heads of the group to a meeting with a government official in downtown Damascus today, at noon. She wanted to get eyes on to verify who the head was, and if possible, plant a transmitter on the vehicle so she could track them back to wherever they were now located.

Moving in the daylight carried extra risk. The last two times she’d ventured out, she’d been attacked.

Third time’s the charm.

Maybe this time would go off without a hitch and she would finally be able to discover whether the group had Hannah. Either way, Amber couldn’t afford to sit back and wait. She had to check out this new intel while it was still fresh, and hope for a break. If the female captive she’d heard about was Hannah, then the Valkyrie had still been alive as of last night.

Amber prayed she still was.

This time she dressed in her bike clothes: black leather pants with kneepads sewn into them, a long-sleeved T-shirt, leather jacket and riding boots. The downtown area was full of people on mopeds, scooters and the occasional motorcycle so it would be easier to blend in. She wore a headscarf to cover her hair, sunglasses, and her helmet would conceal her face as she rode.

The bike was exactly where she’d left it, and showed no signs of tampering or any bugs. She hopped on and wove her way toward the northwestern part of the city, twenty minutes before the meeting was supposed to start.

She drove past the meeting point, circled it a few times to get a good look around the area, then parked down the street from the building where the meeting was supposed to happen, and waited. Her internal radar began pinging quietly, reacting to all the people flowing around her. It made her twitchy as hell to wait out here in the open but she didn’t stand out in such a crowded place and her outfit gave her some added anonymity.

Two minutes before the meeting began, three black Escalades like the ones from last night appeared up the street. She stayed where she was, trying to get a good look inside through the visor of her helmet, but even the windshields were darkly tinted.

They pulled to the curb in front of the government building. Doors popped open and big men wearing tailored suits that no doubt disguised their shoulder holsters stepped out. They surrounded a shorter, more slightly-built man and escorted him up the steps.

Bingo. Fayez Rahman. One of the men she suspected of buying Hannah’s information from her. Former military with a vicious reputation, he now used all his previous contacts to play both sides in Syria, making deals with the government and terrorist groups, whichever was more lucrative for him.

And she’d sold Hannah to him.

Amber swallowed and pushed out a slow breath. She was here to make it right, but the guilt was unbearable, slowly eating a hole through her insides.

When the men disappeared into the building she dismounted her bike and casually removed her helmet as she strode toward the vehicles, keeping her face averted. Near the back bumper of the third one, she purposely bumped into a passer-by, apologizing as she spun and used the chance to slide the tiny micro transmitter under the bumper. It was barely larger than a grain of rice and the tiny amount of metallic components made it almost unnoticeable to metal detectors.

Mission accomplished, she continued onto the sidewalk and popped into a nearby café to make it look like it had been her destination all along. She drank a cup of mint tea and savored a pastry before leaving. But as soon as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, a telltale prickling sensation at her nape told her she was being watched.

She resisted the automatic urge to look around and kept walking, helmet under one arm as she headed toward her bike, her right hand free to go for her weapon if necessary. No one stood out to her as she scanned the people around her.

When she reached the bike she tugged on her helmet and gloves. As she swung her leg over the seat, her gaze stopped on a group of people outside a bookshop up the street, and a familiar figure behind them.

The man from last night.

He stood with his back to the wall of the shop, wearing a brown leather jacket, his arms folded across his chest. Even with the dark sunglasses shading his eyes she could feel him watching her.

Instinct kicked in.

Get out of here. Now.

She fired up the bike and shot into traffic, pulling a sharp U-turn to drive away from the man. But as she passed by the row of black Escalades, a man in a suit stepped out into the street and raised a weapon at her.

Not regular security.A hitter.

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