Page 7 of Delta: Retribution

CHAPTER FOUR

Marlena woke on the dingy bed and sat up. Days of waking in this compound hadn’t done great things for her belief that she was getting out anytime soon. No one from work would miss her, and she routinely cut classes to keep up with the workload, so none of her classmates would think twice about her absence.

Mr. Romatar was in charge. That much she knew. He was the reason she’d been brought to wherever they were. It was hot and humid. The flight had taken hours, and no one spoke English unless they wanted her to work. Then it was English with a thick accent and a serious agenda. They all called her “the kid,” and it drove her crazy, but they knew what she was working on. They had classified information. She’d known from day one that this stupid job she’d agreed to do for the government would get her killed.

So much for all the security-clearance hoops she’d jumped through and the assurances that anyone who had an inkling of what she was doing was also cleared.You’re safer working with us than you are in chemistry lab. Ugh. Liars.

Mr. Romatar had armed guards, but Marlena mostly met with intelligent employees who asked many questions and took copious notes. Could her project be replicated? How would they make adjustments for any number of caveats? Part of her was pissed that her contemporaries were taking the shortcut in creating their weapons based on her knowledge, and part of her was pleased that they didn’t question what she told them.

And she’d told them only enough. If they tested her descriptions and plans, they would work. If they tried to put various parts together, they would mesh. But she hadn’t told them the one key part to her plan, the engineering component that had taken her a few semesters to figure out. On paper, everything looked as it should. She could swear that she’d shared everything, and when it didn’t work, she’d have both protected whomever they were intent on attacking and maybe prolonged her life by prolonging her usefulness.

There was a rap on her door, then it swung open. The same man who met her every morning stood there, a container of milk and a breakfast bar in hand. “Ready?”

“I think so.” She smiled because there was nothing else to do. Brian would’ve laughed at her. Called her weak. He would’ve thought she should outwit them. But out-talking men with guns wasn’t her forte. As a matter of fact, if she hadn’t been lured in by the idea of being patriotic, she never would have thought about how biological engineering could help protect her country. Now look at her.

Marlena rubbed her temples.

“Miss McCloud?”

Her stomach churned. She’d meant to change her name, wanting nothing to do with her father, but it would’ve messed with all the paperwork it took to keep her college grants and scholarships. Marlena shook her head and stood, accepting the breakfast offerings with a verbal “thank you” and mental middle finger.

***

The HVT rescue op was underway. Trace moved beneath the murky jungle water. His goal was to find the boat that would give them an under-the-radar arrival. He’d drag Romatar’s men down after Ryder picked them off with his sniper rifle.

Trace sighted the rickety jungle boat a dozen yards ahead. Timing was everything, and the Delta team was on point. On land, maybe lounging in a tree, Ryder waited.

In his ear, Titan team leader Brock counted down their plays, as the boat drifted with the lazy current. “Trace: three, two, one.”

With “Go” buzzing in his earpiece, Trace lifted his hands out of the water and caught his enemy, who was dead, thanks to Ryder’s shot. He dragged the man under, submerging the body in two seconds without so much as a splash, then quietly popped back up for the second hit as the swamp boat floated by.

His hands shot up silently a hair of a second after Ryder’s bullet hit his target above the water’s surface. With eyes barely above water, he grabbed the dead man, submerged his body, then pulled himself over the edge of the boat.

“Clear,” Ryder said.

“Move…” Brock’s strategy was going smoothly. They’d take out the two on the boat, take their place, infiltrate the jungle compound, and rescue their high-value target. “Now.”

One short breath later, the guys pulled over and stayed down. Trace posted in the bow, taking the place of the first man they took out. Luke took his place in the aft, guiding the boat toward the dock. Colin and Javier stayed down and out of the line of sight. The boat drifted, docked, and moved to the outside of the house, surrounded by the river and jungle. Their foursome split, hitting their assigned spots.

“Eyes on three tangoes,” Trace whispered.

Luke, Colin, and Javier gave their count. In total, they could see five armed guards on the exterior and no one through the windows. They were going in blind, and wasn’t that a rush. Adrenaline fueled and honed Trace’s readiness, making the tips of his fingers pulse.

“Sniper: go.” Brock’s voice stayed in their ears. “I repeat: Sniper, we’re a go.”

Ryder took out the targets after Roman, a spotter from Titan’s main team, called their marks.

“Breach team, go,” Brock called into his earpiece.

Trace slipped through the back door. Luke moved through a window. Colin and Javier mimicked the action on the side entrance.

Pushing against the wall, Trace scanned the room, subdued the enemy in front of him, and bounded up the stairs, knowing that his boys would cover him when he came back down with the HVT.

He scanned a few rooms. Not what he expected. They were set up like science labs. What kind of high-value target was the woman? He assumed she was an intelligence operative because the details on the woman were generic at best. But based on what he saw, maybe she was a scientist? A teacher?

Trace cleared one room, then the next. Empty.

“Nothing here,” he grumbled.

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