Page 35 of Raven's Curse
“We checked them every time…” Kash clenched his fists before Nyx nudged him, then sat on his feet. “It was our way of showing him we were still there. Still waiting.” He gave the dog a scratch. “I know that sounds crazy but?—”
“It doesn’t.” She handed them the next image. “Then, I’ll assume you don’t know what mercy means, either? It was scratched on a similar dog tag found with Stacey.”
Zain leaned in close, brow furrowed, red creeping along his cheeks. “No idea. Strange she doesn’t have it around her neck in any of the other photos.”
“That’s because she wasn’t wearing it. Pike discovered it lodged inside her esophagus. She’d likely tried to swallow it just prior to being killed.”
Foster rolled his right shoulder. “As in, this asshole shoved it down her throat?”
Greer pursed her lips. “Considering she didn’t have any military ties, I doubt it was hers. While it looks authentic, it’s blank on the other side. And seeing as she was probably choking on it when he strangled her…” She locked her gaze on Chase. “Pike said it was impressive you were able to establish an airway.”
Chase mumbled something under his breath, then focused on her. “Not that it did her any good.”
“She was dead the moment this guy took her. Nothing either of us did was going to change that.”
Chase looked away as he scrubbed a hand across his face before drawing himself up. Reinforcing all those walls he’d created over the past two days. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
She froze for a moment, the words sparking a wave of unwanted memories. How she’d stood in the war room, night vision cameras streaming on the monitors. The shouts. The explosions. The blood. All playing out in real time.
Zain sighed. “That’s a yes.”
Chase inched forward, squeezed her hand. One of the only times he’d initiated contact in the last thirty-six-hours — other than guarding her ass. “You mentioned you profiled extremist groups for the bureau. Were part of a number of JSOC units.”
Greer toed the floor. “Sadly, I’ve profiled groups who participate in these kinds of rituals. Often as a way of weeding out anyone they deem impure or unworthy. Modern versions of old witch trials, I suppose. The fact our perp switched his MO — a different drug. Strangulation instead of shooting.” She leaned against one of the desks. “It’s more than a bit concerning.”
Foster moved over to the whiteboard. “What about the numbers?”
The subject change eased some of her lingering memories. Allowed her to shove down the rest. “Obviously, they could be almost anything. Part of an address, a phone number, old mission log or an ID. Bodie’s running algorithms to compile the most likely options. One possibility does come to mind, though.”
Zain looked at Foster, then Kash and Chase before crossing his arms. “Geographical coordinates.”
Greer hitched out her hip. “Did you just check with your buddies before offering that up?”
“Of course not.”
“That muscle in your left temple tenses when you lie. And yeah, that’s at the top of my list. No one goes to these extremes unless he wants us to figure it out. And with him using flash bangs, assault rifles and flares… This feels more field related.”
Foster tapped his chin. “You think this guy’s getting revenge for something that happened at this mystery location.”
“If we’re right about the numbers? It makes sense. His way of giving us his origin story.”
Zain walked over to the board and grabbed the marker. “Forty-two and fifty-five. If we assume those are degrees, and you’re looking for an area where something covert could have happened that wouldn’t have made the evening news, there’re only a couple options that aren’t in the middle of an ocean. One being Russia, though I’d assume further south, where the steppe meets the mountain fringes. We’re talking sparse settlements, and jurisdictional complexity. Easy to be off-grid yet reachable by small convoys. Prime landscape for extremists groups or abduction scenarios.”
Foster nodded. “Could be the Russia–Caucasus corridor — thin on population, thick on deniability. Though, the other option is what… Kazakhstan?”
Zain nodded. “Sounds about right. It’s all wide-open grasslands and semi-deserts with few settlements, long distances between towns, and minimal policing — good for a remote a training camp or bunker. And the border regions allow smuggling routes.”
Greer stared at them. “You know all that? Off the top of your heads?”
Foster merely shrugged.
“Which means you’ve done multiple missions in both areas.” She kept talking when they looked as if they might interrupt. “I’m not asking for details, though, since the intel the DoD sent me is useless, I’d appreciate it if you four could go through your old mission logs. Let me know if there were any ops that went sideways enough someone might come gunning for you.”
“We’ll have a look.” Foster glanced at his buddies, again. “Are there any scenarios that don’t involve us?”
“Sure.” Greer grinned wryly. “Someone could be seriously pissed at me. I’ve green lit high asset retrieval missions to more places than I’d like to admit via those JSOC units, and not all of them were without casualties. Or we’re simply dealing with an opportunistic psychopath, and it’s just a coincidence he started with Rhett.”
“But you don’t think so.”
