Page 70 of Damned
“What Kurdish girl?”
“Jesus H. Christ, don’t you know anything? The girl whose family’s sending her to an American college. That’s the bullshit story Banks sent me to edit. It’s all about how they scraped for years and could finally get her out of the country.”
“You got a name?”
“You have got to be fuckin’ joking!”
Kruze answered with a single snap of that rope.
“Okay, okay. Umm…” Vick rolled his eyes. “Her name was, ahh, Derya. That’s right, Derya Najjar. I remember now. She and her family live just outside Berfende’s compound. Her father’s name is Benjamin.”
“What’s the rest of the plan?”
“Okay, so…” Vick rolled his neck, a least as far as he could. “The Pentagon will notify the President, who’ll notify the President of Turkey, who’ll send the F-16 squadron at Incirlik Air Base, into Eastern Anatolia. By the time Berfende’s done doing whatever he wants with Banks, a hellfire missile will be on its way to destroy his compound and everything in it. He’ll never get the nuke to Ankara, because he and Banks will be dead, and Lantz will be the fuckin’ hero of the hour. Hell, he’ll be the man of the year.”
Kruze couldn’t believe the lengths greedy men were willing to go. “Who’s reporting the strike in Eastern Anatolia? Which one of his reporters is there, on the ground, right now? Give me a name.”
“That I don’t know,” Vick replied, his chest heaving and his gaze fastened on Kruze. “I know a couple guys Lantz is closer to than me, but I don’t know the exact one who’ll be onsite and reporting when Berfendedies.”
“BanksandBerfende.”
Vick nodded, humbled now. “Yeah. When Lantz kills Brianna Banks and that motherfucker Berfende.”
Kruze pursed his lips. This timeline didn’t give him much chance of stopping Lantz. To cover all bases, Kruze needed help from someone he trusted. Lifting to his feet, he twirled the end of the rope in a lazy circle. “You see any bears while you were tracking Banks?”
Despair shadowed Vick’s countenance. “No.” He coughed. “But I’d do the same thing, if she were my girl.”
Kruze crouched at his adversary’s boots. “Here’s the thing. I can’t trust you, so I can’t let you go. There’s nothing you’ve got I want, so there’ll be no deal. Why the fuck should I let you live?”
Vick stared at the ground between them. “Shoot me then. Don’t leave me for bear bait.”
Kruze kept twirling that rope. He believed Vick. Men who knew they were going to die tended to tell most of the truth, and a tortured prisoner could only spill what he knew. But Kruze would never trust this bastard with Bree’s life, and he knew damned well Vick knew more than he’d ever tell. So far, he’d only incriminated Lantz, but this guy was dirty.
He tugged his phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed Chance, then tucked his earpiece into his ear, so Vick wouldn’t hear both sides of the convo.
“Where the fuck are you?” Chance bellowed.
“Busy,” Kruze snapped. “How far out are you?”
“Been at your place all morning, only you’re not here. Pagan’s with me. He’s out scouting for you and Bree now.”
“Tell him to check the place where he and I fell asleep last fall.” Kruze and his baby brother had been out hunting deer when a freakish, late-season thunderstorm hit. They’d been too far from his place, but not close enough to any hunter cabins to take cover. They’d dropped down the face of that slippery basalt to wait out the storm. Ended up sleeping the night away in the cave where Bree was now. Went home to the pissed-off oldest brother who’d been up all night, worrying about them.
“Are you both there?” Chance asked.
“I’m not,” Kruze replied as he shrugged one arm into Vick’s vest, then readjusted the rope to slide his other arm in.
“You’re talking code. What’s going on? How much trouble are you in, and who’s there with you?”
Chance always asked too many questions. “I’ve got something to do before I come in. While Pagan’s taking care of my first request, I’ve got a package for you to pick up at…” Kruze checked his current coordinates on his sat phone, then passed the intel along to his brother. He glanced at Vick when he told Chance, “Be quick about it. Ran across a sow with three cubs this morning. This jerk isn’t going to last long.”
Vick deserved whatever happened to him. Let him worry whether Kruze’s comments were truth or fiction.
“Check,” Chance replied. “Pagan will retrieve Bree. I’ll collect your package. Are we talking dead or alive? Male or female?”
“He’s alive right now,” Kruze answered, picking up Vick’s weapons, and stowing them into the vest pockets. “He’s a former SEAL turned mercenary. Works for Harvey Lantz. Don’t turn your back on the bastard.”
“You got a name?”
