Page 30 of Danger Close
Marsh exhaled slowly, as if he’d expected the punch.“But ...she’s not safe.”
He clicked a few keys.A map popped up.Rural.Isolated.Fenced.
“She’s currently placed with a family tied to the Kavaci trafficking networks Van was investigating.Name’s Kallashi.They operate under a humanitarian shell—foster care, aid distribution, relocation logistics.They’re a Bratya-funded front.She’s not just in danger, she’s an asset in a laundering pipeline.”
Ezra’s hands curled into fists on the table.The fury coming off him wasn’t loud, but Ricky felt it brewing.
“They’re based outside Vlorë,” Marsh went on.“Guarded, off-grid.Local authorities are either complicit or paid off.Getting in clean is a long shot.”
“She’s in Albania?”Ezra’s voice cracked—just slightly.
He stepped forward and reached out without thinking, placing his hand on Ezra’s shoulder.An attempt to try and offer support and strength.
“You didn’t know,” Marsh said, his voice quieter now.Less data analyst, more friend.“It took me weeks just to sort through what Van left behind.It wasn’t organized—half the files were fragmented or buried under dead-end leads.I had to code two custom decryptors just to make sense of it.You couldn’t have found her on your own, Ezra.You didn’t fail her.”
Ezra let out a bitter huff of laughter.“Appreciate the pat on the head, Marsh, really.But it doesn’t fix the fact that I was in the same damn country she was, and not only did I not know, but I also left her there.”
“You’re good at getting inside the machine, Ezra,” Marsh replied, gaze steady.“I’m good at tearing it apart.We did our jobs.And we’ve got her location now because of it.”
“I know, thank you,” Ezra muttered.
Dale’s voice cut in from the far side of the room.“How guarded are we talking?”
“Enough to make noise a risk,” Marsh said.“They rotate the kids through multiple sites.If we spook them, they’ll move her.”
“They’ll vanish her,” Ricky said, teeth clenched.
Marsh nodded grimly.“Exactly.”
The screen shifted to a grainy photo.The compound.Trucks.Buildings.A playground in the corner, too new to be real.
Ricky’s stomach turned.
“We’ve got a window,” Marsh said.“One of Kai’s sources pinged on an incoming shipment set for ninety-eight hours from now.If we piggyback on the delivery manifest, we can embed one of ours inside.Confirm eyes-on.Then we move.”
Ezra straightened.“Who’s the source?”
“Former Bratya logistics runner.Kai flipped him last year.He’s dirty but scared.Name’s Dren.We’re tapping him for route data.”
“We take out the one they are sending and put in one of ours,” Marsh added, switching the screen to a crude diagram of the incoming shipment route.“They’ll need to ride in as freight crew—gear familiarity, fast read on logistics, fluent in Albanian dialects.Limited cover, tight timeline.We get one shot.”
Ricky straightened from the wall.“Then it’s me.I’ve run ops like this before.I speak the language.I know how to work a crate line without blinking.”
Ezra stood abruptly, his chair scraping hard against the floor.“No.It should be me.”
“Why?”Ricky shot back.“Because you’re feeling guilty?”
“Because she’s my family,” Ezra snapped.
“Fuck you, Ezra, she was Van’s family,” Ricky snarled, stepping forward.“And last I checked, Van was our brother, too.You don’t get to stake a fucking blood claim when the rest of us bled for him, too.”
The room froze.Even Marsh paused, eyes flicking between them like he was bracing for impact.
Bateman cleared his throat.“We’ll need a hell of a backup plan in case this goes south.”
“You’ll have it,” came a voice from the comms tablet on the table—Kai, patching in clean and steady.“And if you’ll have me, I’ll be on-site to support.”
Hogan arched a brow.“You any good in a firefight?”
