Fight Fire With Fire. Amy J. Fetzer
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it down and up. This would be tricky, but automatic gunfire could spray the huts hiding villagers.
“Eagle’s in the nest.”
The craft was about fifteen feet long. He’d seen the like all over Asia. Farmers used them to bring goods to market. They could accommodate a lot of weight. Lucky for me, they tip easy . The boat slipped forward on the current, its motor silent, the pair of guards using the paddles to guide. He could tell it was shallow, too flat and clear nearly to the center. Drowning their asses wasn’t an option. Vaghn wore a satchel and pack like the last guy, yet it was his death grip hug on it that clued Riley in. No telling what that guy could invent when he wasn’t restrained.
Fifteen feet away, Max laid on the branch hanging over the water, his legs hooked around the wood. The boat passed. Max waited till it was nearly beyond his reach to grab the rear man and drag him off the back. It rocked the craft, and Riley dropped the vine around Vaghn’s head and shoulders. He swatted at it, lifting one arm to take it off and Riley pulled. He jerked up, his legs scraping the boat and the man in front turned, drew his gun. Vaghn kicked, dangling over the water, and Riley almost laughed when crocs slid into the river from the opposite bank.
Vaghn saw them and screamed. “Help me! You have to help me! Shoot them! Shoot them !”
The twins didn’t. The boat driver was on the bank, out cold and face down already. Way to whip on it, Max.
Riley’s muscles strained and he swung Vaghn, the branch bending under their weight. He heard a crack. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Vaghn was sliding out of the loop. The second guard had recovered, aiming his weapon, but he didn’t shoot, searching the foliage for a target. Crocs moved in. Riley heaved, giving the guy a chance and let go. Vaghn barely landed on the bank, wet to his thighs and digging at the mud to get out.
“Drac,” Riley warned.
“I’m on him,” Max said.
Riley moved briskly down, tough to do going backwards, then he jumped. Max held the vines, having a little too much fun sweeping the jungle floor with Vaghn. The geek clawed the ground and screamed like a slasher movie victim, false arrest or something. Riley was on him, a knee in his back, and pushing his face into the ground so he’d shut up. He pulled off his backpack. Max tossed him cuffs and he twisted Vaghn’s arms behind his back and locked them down.
“Help me, you have to!” he shouted at the boat trolling just out of range.
One man was looking for his buddy. Oh yeah, feel the love. Riley stood, pulling Vaghn to his feet. Recognition was instant and Riley smiled. “You knew this would happen.”
“Give it up, Donovan. You have no jurisdiction here!”
“Ahh, but today, I do.”
Max flipped the Diplomatic Security ID in front of his face. It paid to have friends in the intelligence community.
“That’s bullshit. You’re Dragon One.” Vaghn struggled.
Riley tightened his grip, pulling him back toward the dirt road, Max covering his back. It didn’t surprise him that Vaghn knew his business.
Mud and dirt spewed as Sebastian braked nearby. “My God. It worked?” He jumped out and sighted over the open door at the river.
“Not for long.” The boat moved swiftly upriver toward the bridge.
Quickly, Riley threw open the door, and with a hand on his head, pushed Vaghn into the back of the truck cab. Like a panicked toddler, Vaghn tried to go out the other side, but Max was already there, moving in and closing the door. Sebastian hit the gas.
“You won’t get away with this. Are you stupid? Wait, I forgot, you all are.”
“It’d be wise to shut your 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