Forged Risk (Aegis Group Task Force Book 2) Page 3

  The door clanged open, throwing her off her rhythm. Her legs wobbled, muscles screaming.

  Felecia pivoted and sat on the foot of the bed.

  “Dad?” She leaned to her left, peering out at the rest of the space. It was always him, never anyone else. Not even the thugs who worked for him dare come here.

  “Dinner,” he announced.

  She took a few deep breaths, composing herself before venturing outside her little corner.

  Her father was a shorter man. She was a good three inches taller than him. He’d long since lost his hair, leaving him bald. He set a plastic bag on the table. The aroma of hot food had Felecia’s stomach rumbling.

  He glanced at her, his gaze raking over her body in a critical fashion. She could hear the unspoken, What would your mother say? as he shook his head.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you again tonight.” The chain rustled and rattled as she dragged it along behind her.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t get to the market earlier. I’m not going to let my little girl starve.” He gestured to the single meal. “Eat.”

  “Has something happened?” She knew he only brought her food after he’d met with clients, usually as a precursor to working late.

  “No. Never you mind.” He shrugged out of one coat and into another. There were easily a dozen hanging there with various hats, umbrellas and canes to help shift his appearance. “I’ll be by early tomorrow morning. Get some rest. We’ve got work to do.”

  Felecia opened and shut her mouth, unsure what to say. The door clanging shut echoed the same dissonance in her mind.

  Something was happening and she had no idea what that was.

  2.

  Friday. Staging Van. Kiev, Ukraine.

  Evan stared at the monitor, hands clenched.

  They’d been in this van for days watching this door and the corner.

  Obran had a routine. At roughly nine in the morning he appeared along the street. They’d never been able to determine where he came from, he was just suddenly there. He’d stop in the café on the corner where surveillance had snapped their picture, then he disappeared down an alley and into this door, rarely to be seen again until the following morning.

  Obran moved around the city like a ghost.

  This was the first time they’d seen Obran twice in one day.

  The side door to the van opened. Logan and Harper climbed in.

  “Anything?” Logan asked.

  “Nope,” Tucker replied.

  They’d taken over watching the site in shifts, two-man teams rotating every so often. It was almost claustrophobic with all five of them in the van now.

  “This might be our chance.” Tucker turned around and faced them from his vantage point in the front of the van.

  Logan scowled. “How long has he been in there?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Evan replied. He’d called as soon as they’d seen Obran.

  Logan’s mouth twisted up.

  They knew they were running out of time. The longer their team was deployed, the more questions people would ask. The mole likely knew something was up after five days.

  “Gear up,” Logan said. “We go in quiet, plain clothes. If he’s not there, let’s be ready to leave cameras. I want to know where this mother fucker is going and how he’s moving around.”

  Evan kept watching the monitors. His Kevlar was on under his clothes already. He reached into his bag and pulled out his earpiece, fitting it in all while wishing Obran would show up again.

  They’d determined they couldn’t make their move in the morning. There were too many people who’d see them and they didn’t have permission from the Ukrainian government for this op. During the days they’d been here, this was their best chance to move.

  In less than five minutes the other guys had their protective gear on.

  Evan managed to conceal his knife and two handguns under his light jacket, with a third strapped to his ankle.

  They had no idea what they were walking into.

  “How are we doing this, TL?” Tucker asked.

  Logan frowned at the monitors. “Evan and I will go first. You three give us about thirty seconds lead time, okay?”

  Evan felt a bit more weight settle on his shoulders.

  To keep their team small, they hadn’t hired a translator. Much of the responsibility landed on him to make sure things ran smoothly. And now their first attempt at grabbing their suspect could lean on him, too.

  Great.

  No pressure or anything.

  Logan holstered a gun under his arm. “Evan?”

  “Let’s go,” Evan said.

  They slipped out of the van and into the night as one, emerging from the darker shadows of an alley onto the dimly lit street. The businesses had long since closed for the day and even the café was locked up tight. There weren’t many to see them.

  One thing Evan had spent the last few days trying to surmise was if there were any cameras watching them. If Obran saw them, even once, he’d be gone and they would have lost the chance to snatch him up. Of course Logan had overruled him when they’d set up their own cameras, opting for more visibility over playing it safe.

  The alley behind the café was narrow, clear of refuse with no lighting. The only reason they’d known where Obran went was because the light from the door he’d gone through had given them a clear shot of his face.

  Evan put his hand on his gun under his coat as they neared the door.

  It was set into the brick wall of the apartment building opposite the café. After studying blueprints, Evan was of a mind that someone had changed the place. These buildings dated back to the early 1900s. They’d changed hands, survived wars and no doubt seen plenty of renovations. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to believe that they didn’t have a full picture of what lay before them.

  “We’ve reached the door,” Logan said soft enough Evan needed the earpiece to hear him. Logan glanced at Evan and caught his eye. “Going inside in three, two, one.”

  Logan opened the door and Evan stepped inside.

  A hallway stretched ahead of him. To his left the space was cut out and a bright red door with chipped and peeling paint advertised the basement of the building.

  “Clear,” Evan said softly.

  “Right behind you,” Tucker said.

  The camera they’d tried to install here had been a lost cause thanks to the local kids bouncing balls off every surface. But the team had captured Obran going through that door on at least one morning.

  Evan ducked into the cut out and grabbed the basement door’s handle.

  “Go,” Logan urged.

  Evan opened the door. Stairs descended into darkness. It was a bit unsettling, but he didn’t dare turn on any lights. Instead he proceeded down the stairs, his vision adjusting to the low light.

  The stairs dumped them out in a tidy basement. Immediately Evan envisioned the blueprints.

  It was obvious even at a glance the layout was different. Someone had removed walls, for one.

  Evan began walking the perimeter while the others clustered hear the stairs and considered what to do next. He shut them out. The whole team was tense after days of nothing. Standing around talking about what to do wasn’t going to provide them with something new. At the heart of the problem was the fact that they were not undercover operatives. They were highly trained soldiers. It wasn’t the same thing. While they had some on-the-job training when it came to spy craft, they were out of their element here.

  He’d almost completed the circuit, taking stock of the new configuration of rooms, before he found it. A hall that led to a door that shouldn’t be there.

  “Guys?” Evan said. “I think I know where he went.”

  He reached out, grasped the door and pulled.

  “Wait,” Logan hissed.

  It was too late.

  The hall continued. The walls were plain brick or cinderblock. A dim yellow bulb hung a dozen or so yards away.

  “God da
mn it, Evan.” Logan wasn’t that far behind, neither were the others.

  Evan pushed forward, keeping on the balls of his feet.

  The hall took a sharp right turn.

  The air had that musty odor, like a room that had been shut up too long.

  Another bulb cast just enough light to see by ahead.

  This was how Obran just vanished. There were tunnels.

  Evan cocked his head and listened to the familiar rush of air. It was a distant sound, but anyone who’d ever ridden a subway had heard that sound.

  They passed through the second pool of light. The hall went on for a ways before it let out in a large space.

  Evan glanced toward the noise and pulled out the slim flashlight that was part of his kit. Clicking it on, the light glinted off rails.

  “An old subway tunnel,” Evan said as the others crowded onto a small platform next to him.

  “Someone just built themselves their own entrance?” Harper muttered.

  Evan shone his light around. “No one move.”

  A thin coat of dust covered the ground, disturbed only in one line. The kind of line the passing of feet over many days might make.

  Evan glued his eyes on the trail and followed it.

  “Single file,” he said softly.

  Their little platform widened. An old metal gate stood open. There was paint on the walls from kids and broken tiles on the floor.

  “An old platform?” Jamie asked.

  “Looks like it,” Harper replied.

  Jamie kept going. “The closest metro stop isn’t even a block away. There are probably a dozen entrances to this place.”

  That made sense, not that it helped them find their guy.

  “Which way do we go?” Harper asked.

  “Evan’s got the trail,” Logan replied.

  Despite the taggers and other refuse left from squatters, it was all old. There’d only been one path taken through here lately, and it was easy to follow.

  They left the platform and entered another long hall. Here a few lights lit the way, but it wasn’t welcoming. What drew Evan’s attention was the open maintenance door. Thick black cords ran from the other direction and into that door.

  Evan drew his gun and pointed it at the floor.

  They could be walking into anything and nothing.

  “I bet he’s stealing power from somewhere,” Logan muttered.

  “Makes sense,” Harper replied. “What’s the other?”

  “Looks like an Ethernet cable to me,” Jamie said.

  Someone had gone to a lot of effort here. The cords passed through a section of wall where they’d been forced to remove a brick. The hole had been filled in with plaster and painted.

  “Let’s pick up the pace,” Logan said.

  Evan found the heavy steel door. There wasn’t a lock or anything barring entry. He grit his teeth, reached out and pulled it open.

  The light was different, almost like daylight, and a radio pumped the latest hits in through the speakers. A bit of movement to his right had him bringing his hands up and pointing his gun.

  A woman stood frozen at the other end of a table. Her dark hair was pulled back. A sweater hung on her thin frame like a dress. She held a Styrofoam container of food in her hands and was staring at him with wide doe-eyes, her fork halfway to her mouth.

  “Don’t move, don’t scream,” Evan said in Ukrainian, keeping his voice quiet. He repeated himself again in Russian.

  “God damn it,” Logan snarled and hurled something onto the table.

  Obran wasn’t there.

  The woman’s eyes were so large they seemed to suck everything in.

  “Keep calm.” He edged closer.

  Her gaze landed back on him. She slowly placed the fork back in the container, closed it and set it on the table.

  “Who is she? What has she said?” Logan demanded.

  “She hasn’t said anything yet.” Evan held up his weapon, holstering it, as if that were somehow the same thing as her pausing her dinner.

  She took a step sideways and something rattled.

  He glanced down and saw the heavy chain that attached to a pair of handcuffs fastened around her ankle. His stomach lurched. The chain was secured by looping it through the chain and done up with a padlock.

  “Take whatever you want,” the woman said in Ukrainian, her voice even and calm. The way her gaze jumped from man to man belied her outer composure. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”

  “Is she chained up?” Jamie practically growled and turned away.

  “Shit,” Harper muttered.

  Evan pulled the picture of Obran out of his pocket and spoke to the woman in her own language. “We’re looking to talk to this man. Is he here?”

  She glanced at the picture and shook her head.

  Holy shit.

  If her hair were loose and she had at least forty pounds on her, she’d be the doppelganger of the woman Diha suspected was Obran’s wife. Could this be the daughter? The one that was supposed to be dead?

  “Do you know where he is? We just want to talk to him.”

  “What’s she saying?” Logan asked.

  Evan glanced over his shoulder. “That you need to shut it and let her talk. She says he isn’t here.”

  She had a fistful of her sweater now, worrying the knit with her fingers.

  “No one’s going to hurt you,” he said to her again, hands up, edging closer.

  “What is this place?” Logan asked.

  Evan sighed and translated.

  “This is where we work.” She tilted her head to the side. “What name do you know him by?”

  “What do you call him?” He didn’t want to give away too much. She was chained up, but they had no idea why or if she might be on his side.

  Her eyes twinkled a bit. “Asshole.”

  Evan chuckled and allowed himself to look at the chain. “Did he do this to you?”

  “Yes. What do you know him by?” The smile faded and she focused on his face.

  He had to give her something. “Obran.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “What does that mean? Why are you nodding?”

  “He uses different names for different jobs. Obran is an old name for him, but one he only used when he tried to work in America.” She licked her lips, that twinkling growing brighter. “Are you Americans? You are, aren’t you?”

  “I can’t answer that.” Evan turned his head and looked at Logan, who was practically grinding his teeth with the effort of waiting. “I think this is his daughter. He’s not here, and she just said Obran isn’t his real name. He used it for some American deals years ago.”

  “There’s a camera,” Jamie announced.

  “Shit,” Logan snapped.

  Evan turned back to find that the woman had taken several steps toward him. Her gaze focused on his with an intensity that made him feel frozen to the spot. For some reason when she spoke her words muted all the other sounds. “You are Americans.”

  “Get her and let’s go before we find out who else Obran is working with,” Logan said. “Is she going to fight back?”

  Evan swallowed and locked eyes with her. Did she understand what they were saying?

  “My friends and I are going to leave.” He nodded at the door. “Any chance you’d want to get out of here?”

  “And go where?” One brow arched and she let go of the sweater. She really was something else. He was struck by how strong this young woman had to be.

  In all their data, they’d agreed that Obran’s family had to have died or been killed. In no scenario had they survived, but here she was. And Evan was more certain than ever who she was, even if he didn’t know her name.

  Based on where she was and the chain, Evan figured it was safe to assume that she knew what her father did. If they couldn’t have him, she was the next best thing.

  “To help us capture your father,” Evan said.

  “And do what with him? Kill him? Question him?�
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  “Ask him questions.”

  Logan came to stand next to him. “Evan, come on. She’s not getting a choice in this.”

  She stared into Evan’s eyes, her gaze serious. “I want him dead. Take me with you, promise me you’ll put an end to this hell, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “How about we talk about this somewhere else?” He held out his hand. “I’m Evan.”

  She stared at his hand for a moment before taking it. “Felecia.”

  Friday. Obran’s Flat. Kiev, Ukraine.

  Obran felt his phone vibrating against his thigh.

  He wasn’t expecting a call. The rest of the evening should be quiet.

  The vibrating continued.

  Not a call.

  The perimeter alarm.

  Sometimes he was convinced his daughter lived to vex him. Didn’t the brat realize he was doing this for her own good?

  She was his only family left.

  He had to protect her from people who would use her for their own gain or revenge.

  By the time he’d realized how deep he was in this world, he couldn’t unmake his family. Trying to stay away from them hadn’t helped either. The only thing that worked was protecting them. And he’d do that until his dying day. Even if his brat of a daughter was so fucking ungrateful.

  He glanced up and down the mostly empty subway car before pulling his phone out and tapping the alert.

  The screen went to the main feed in the workroom. His daughter stood facing a man Obran didn’t know. A man who shouldn’t be there.

  The blood in Obran’s veins went cold.

  She was twelve blocks away. She’d be dead by the time he got to her.

  Obran leaned forward, his phone cradled in his hands. He couldn’t keep men on her. They wound up sympathetic or far too interested in her.

  His daughter. His baby girl that looked so much like her mother that sometimes, when she wasn’t copping an attitude, he could almost believe he had his wife back in his life.

  His shock at the appearance of unknown men in his workshop quickly morphed to rage.

  How had this happened? Who was to blame?

  Obran swiped through the other monitors, counting the men.

  Five.