J Saint - Collateral Damage

"That would explain a lot and why they're a step ahead of us."

He turned away, his gut churning. Bob or Ray might explain what was happening among Bill's friends, and they might have enough contacts to pull off a kidnapping in Brazil, but it didn't explain the international aspects to the case. The collateral damage Collins left behind kept escalating without a clue as to why he'd been in Lebanon. More importantly, how was Jack going to protect Lauren and get to the bottom of the cesspool at the same time?

Within in a few minutes Lauren finished changing the password on the account and Jack pulled up the current activity. "There are regular deposits from BioLogics, which we know about, and Novordem. Ever heard of them?"

"No."

Jack clicked to view the details for one of the Novordem transactions. "They are located in Sao Paulo, Brazil." Skimming through statements from previous months Jack found that Bill had also made payments from the account over the past year. Over twenty million worth. He jotted down the companies paid, asking Lauren if she was familiar with any of them as he did. "BlueTech, Green Consolidated Industries, IASC, Emir Development, and MCarridas Incorporated. His girlfriend?"

"Sounds like." Lauren shook her head, her disgust evident. "How much was he paying for it?"

"Ten thousand a month."

"He got a bargain deal. The million dollar neighborhood near us had two women living in a mansion who were busted for prostitution. Their price was ten thousand a night. Is that insane or what?"

"Were I a rich man you'd be-"

"Don't even go there."

"Priceless."

She rolled her eyes then went to work on reviewing Bill's letter and he went to work on the computer. The wrenching frustration of the past twenty-four hours channeled itself into excitement the more he investigated. BlueTech was an International Tactical Supply Company. Anything to do with combat gear or accessories excluding the weapons themselves could be bought. IASC turned out to be International Arab Shipping Company, based out of India and just might be Collins's Middle Eastern connection. Green Consolidated Industries was a black hole. Great website, great spiel on environmental issues. Zero information on who was behind it or what the company did exactly. Novordem purported itself as a humanitarian organization dedicated to the liberation of those dominated by tyranny and very anti-America, his best lead yet because a reporter from Brazil who'd written an article supposedly tying Novordem to drug cartel money and a faction of Hezbollah in South America had been executed last month. He needed access to more information than what he could get on his own. He called Weston.

Fort Bragg, North Carolina

Roger's cell phone vibrated and he jerked awake. His initial heart-hammering burst of alarm eased the moment he realized Mari was safe on the couch, asleep with her bandaged hand in his as he sat on the floor next to her. He must have drifted off after she had because he'd just been dreaming that the sniper bullet had ripped through her stomach and she was dying in his arms. That he couldn't stop the blood. That he couldn't save her or her baby.

He drew a deep breath and tried to let go of his choking fear as he answered the phone. Keeping his voice low, he stood and moved to another room in the Fort Bragg apartment he'd borrowed from an out of town buddy and shut the door. "DT. I'm still waiting to hear back about BioLogics. The license plate numbers were from stolen tags. What's up now?"

"I've got three dead men, a missing actress, two million dollars, a list of companies, one attached to drug and Hezbollah rumors and two possible suspects. My only tie-in to it all is Collins."

Roger whistled. "Been busy."

"And then some. How is Mari?"

"Not good." Roger clenched his fist. "We know who the bastard is now. Frank Dugar. Member of the Viper Militia from Washington state with a history of mental illness. He, uh, tried to take her out with a sniper rifle when we left the hospital today. I've got her with me on post."

"Have the cops caught the SOB yet?"

"No."

DT's responding curse didn't even come close to expressing Roger's anger, frustration and self hatred.

"Give me the info and I'll see what's taking Dean so long. He should have been back to me by now. I dropped the ball." Roger sighed.

"With good reason, Commander. Listen, I need to find out what Lauren's security options are. In case this situation mushrooms out of control."

"Like how, DT?" Roger did not like DT's tone or the hesitation in his voice. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing that I haven't been able to handle, but I need to know there's something out there for her and her kids besides me."

"That's one thing you don't have to worry about. I'll-"

"No disrespect, sir, because I know you'd do anything for your men, but you wouldn't be able to walk out the door this instant and be here if needed. I already have Rico with her kids, but with our military hands tied, if this gets any bigger than it is, or something happens to me, I need assurance that she'll be taken care of. Protected."

Roger focused his gaze on Mari, thinking that his and DT's current paths were oddly running parallel. "I'll see what I can line up."

"Thanks." DT hung up. Before Roger could call Dean Ramirez at the agency, Beck called. Damn but it was going to be a long night.

"She's crippled," Beck said in response to Roger's greeting.

"What?" Roger frowned, wondering if Beck was on another bender.

"Amanda James. The ambassador's daughter we tried to rescue in Lebanon. She's paralyzed from the waist down. They don't know if she'll ever walk again. Doesn't it bother you, Commander? Doesn't it bother you that both of us had a hand in that?"

Roger sucked in air, sucker punched by Beck, and Jesus, the thick sound of tears in his voice. His man, his responsibility was on the same crumbling edge he was, and being commander might just drag them both over the ledge.

"Every second of every day," Roger whispered. "I don't shut my eyes without thinking about how things went down and what I could have done differently. I can't sleep. I can't breathe without hearing the cries, seeing the blood, feeling the oppressive vise of having to bury a gut burning secret amid that pain and guilt."

"Then why-?"

"Then I weigh what happened in Lebanon and why against the thousands of Americans who died at Muhammad al Qassem's hands and the thousands more who could die were he to succeed again. After I do that, I suck it up, knowing only more death would have followed Lebanon if I hadn't taken him out. And only more death will follow if the wrong spin is given to what happened. Something I have no doubt the media would twist all to hell. Does it make every second any easier? No."

A long, heavy silence followed. Roger felt as if his guts were slashed open.

Beck hung up.

Roger sat in the dark a minute, trying to breathe, trying to regain a semblance of the strength that had guided him all his life. A strength that failed him now. Then he set to work. He called Dean Ramirez at the agency again.

"Just about to call you," Dean said.

"I expected to hear from you sooner," Roger replied.

"Yeah. I thought so too. But something is shaking here. From the time you called last night until I planned to call you back this morning, BioLogics and several other companies went from obscure dots in a sea of nothing to red hot tamales in a storm of intrigue. A Staff Operation Officer (SOO) called for the alert after hearing from his deep cover agent. Now NCS (National Clandestine Service) is in on it. I've been trying to find out why before getting back to you. Why is Delta involved with BioLogics?"

"One of my men is caught up in a situation that may or may not have some serious repercussions." Roger read off the list of new companies DT had given him. "Any of those on the list?"