Fight Fire With Fire. Amy J. Fetzer

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СКАЧАТЬ mouth about now,” Sebastian said.

      “You shouldn’t have messed with me again.”

      Riley unclipped the satchel, and Vaghn kicked out to keep it. With his arm across his throat, Riley pinned him. “Don’t make me wish I’d killed you the first time.”

      “You don’t scare me, Donovan.”

      He met his gaze. “I should.” He punched, once.

      Vaghn didn’t make another sound, blood trickling out his nose.

      “Did that feel as good as the last time?” Max said.

      “Neither was enough. Head to the jet,” Riley said. “We leave this country now.” Damn cops. There were too many unknown factors going on. Who was helping Vaghn? The guys in the boat were muscle and using a familiar route. But it wasn’t their assignment to investigate further, just bring him in. Besides, Vaghn wouldn’t admit to anything. He never had, even under oath.

      “You know we’re kissing off about ten grand in equipment?” Max said, poking through Vaghn’s gear. In the satchel was a laptop. The backpack contained a couple disposable phones, an MP3 player, a PSP, a couple games, clothes, booze, and a bottle of pills. The small handgun made Max snicker as he turned on the laptop.

      “I’ll take the loss.” Vaghn slumped and Riley pushed him off. “That was too easy.”

      “Tell that to my aching back,” Max said. He inserted a flash drive and with a few swift key strokes, downloaded the hard drive.

      “They could have shot us and taken him, and the lack of cops says something.” He waved to the area. Still not a Singapore police vehicle in sight. From behind the driver’s seat, Riley scanned the streets, the cars. The men in the boats were more than prepared.

      Max replaced the laptop in the case, then searched Vaghn, emptying his pockets.

      Riley picked up a cell phone, then found another just like it. He turned one on and was scrolling the numbers when Sebastian said, “We have road warriors.”

      He leaned to see. An all terrain vehicle popped out from under the trees.

      “Strap in,” Sebastian said. “They’re out for blood.”

       Seletar Airstrip

      Safia backed her bike out of view in between some bushes as the car zipped past her position. She didn’t need to track him. The marker on his car was working just fine. But he didn’t seem happy and she needed to know why.

      “Did you get that call?” she asked Ellie.

       “Sorry, too short to triangulate. The plane, however, is heading toward Thailand. I’ll track.”

      Well, it was clear that Red Shoes was more than just a pretty face in this. Safia’d recognized Barasa’s fury, and for an instant there, thought he’d smack Red Shoes. Till she saw the backup in black hidden under the jet’s stairs. Smart woman. Safia half expected the commandos to put two in Barasa if things didn’t go their way.

      Red Shoes was the money, a shocker, decent firepower notwithstanding. She didn’t trust Barasa, wise move. Not being seen with him only slightly wiser. But then, that’s the game, bad versus bad, and the good guys have to fight harder. Safia swung her leg over the bike and started the engine, then flipped down her visor. The tracking beacon showed Barasa was headed toward his hotel. The call from the restaurant phone was from the other side of the island, but there had been too many crowded signals on cell towers to pinpoint the call’s exact location.

      Out in the open now, she could put a laser sight on him.

      Not that it was a consideration. Probably annoy the big cheese though. She didn’t want this guy in U.S. custody—yet. His usefulness was limited from behind bars. She’d learned the hard way that when criminals had a benefit, the Company exploited them. She agreed, let them dig their own graves, but her boss wasn’t in the field with a twenty-three-year old female Marine intelligence expert as her only link. Though Ellie wasn’t just her relay, but more like a little sister who completely ignored her good advice on men and pushed the fashion envelope. Yet they were both alone. Once they’d been tanked on Singapore Slings, and almost got arrested for hot-dogging a couple of borrowed jet skis down the channel. Her lips curved. That’s where her invisible friendships with the local police came in handy. The Company would have hated to bail them out of that one.

       “Base to Raven.”

      Okay, Raven was a new one. Ellie came up with the names and changed them often. Safia could always tell when she was upset. The names got a little raunchy. She could care less, though she thought “maggot breath” for their last subject was inventive.

      “Gotcha.”

       “He’s on the phone again and changing directions.”

      She glanced at the GPS tracker on the dash screen and slowed to take a residential street. “Can you intercept the call, let me hear?”

       “That wouldn’t be authorized.”

      “Screw waiting for Langley. They’re not here right now.”

      A sigh came through the microphone. Safia even heard the rustle of papers while Ellie wrestled with her conscience. Langley would approve or she’d threaten something. It’d worked before and Safia wasn’t above sticking some pins in people to get what she needed. If they wanted her to fight the good fights, she had to have access to intelligence and quickly.

      “ I’m on him.” A pause and then, “ Damn, he’s got a scrambler.”

      “Ohh, he’s a nasty boy.” Scramblers weren’t easy to come by, no matter who you bribed. But one the CIA couldn’t extract?

       “Let’s hope it’s a phone sex line.”

      Safia smiled to herself.

       “The longer he chats, the more time to track ,” Ellie said. “ Why aren’t you moving?”

      “I want to wait to see what direction he takes and alter my route.” She couldn’t risk exposing her cover by tailing too close.

       “I’d reconsider that. He’s either going to have a suit made or he’s headed to the heliport.”

      Safia keyed in a search for the nearest helipad from her position. Just about every high rise had one, four were on the same street. But Ellie was right, he was in the garment district. She started to ask for satellite imaging when Ellie said, “He’s speeding. Okay he’s turning. You need to move.”

      “I’ll get there. You keep tabs because if he takes off for the far reaches, I’m sunk.”

      She couldn’t outrun a chopper. Leaning over the handlebars, she turned back onto the Central Expressway and toward the garment district. She rode a wide berth. No telling which direction he’d fly, but she stayed in the open for the best opportunities to get close, fast. Impatient for him to move and give her something to chase, she hailed Ellie.

       “SAT has him on the roof. Must have taken the express lift.”

      That СКАЧАТЬ