J Saint - Collateral Damage

"Madre de Dios." His security resources weren't prepared to stop an attack like this. Not in such a civilized area of the world. In Brazil, yes, in Peru at his Santuario, yes, but in London where political correctness ruled over everyone and the rights of even an earthworm were protected? No. There'd never been the need. His staunchest environmental supporters were parliament VIPs. He pulled George into his arms to hold him close as he stared at the screen at a loss for the first time since he'd been abandoned as a child.

Fidel tapped the computer screen. "Guru, can we capture some of these men's faces and search for an ID?"

Brilliant, Andreas thought. Exactly what he would have suggested once the shock had eased. Guru set to work. The men's faces were blackened with ski caps pulled low and Night Vision Goggles (NVGs) covering their eyes. Was it even possible?

Guru had the same thought. "With the equipment on, I don't think…hold on. I'm going to hack into the management's computer system and trigger the auxiliary office lights."

Minutes later, in the middle of their raid, the entire building lit up like a Christmas tree. Blinded, men stumbled and yelled before snatching off their NVGs. It had put a major disturbing knot in the smooth operation.

"Bloody hell. What's going on, Scottie?" one man shouted, drawing Andreas's attention.

"Enlarge his face, Guru."

Guru filled the screen with a close up of the man's face and Andreas leaned in close, swearing the man's eyes were very familiar to him.

"Give me more, Guru. I know this man."

On another screen, Guru brought the man's profile up as he turned and spoke to another man. The accent was off, the beard was gone, the hair shaved short, but the nose and the eyes and the voice were the same. Saleem Al-Jabar! The investor he'd had dinner in Dubai with last evening. The investor who knew Andreas was on his way back to South America.

Andreas had known something was going on. The sheikh, UAE's president Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan, was apparently trying to steal GXP from him! Andreas had a surprise for him.

"Fidel. Divert all my Black Op teams from the Canadian attack and jet them to Dubai. Econ 1 is docked there. Tell them there's been a change in our next oil targets. I want to hit all the major oil facilities in Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Sharjah, Ajman, Umm al-Quwain, Ras al-Khaimah and Fujairah. Leave no reserve untouched. They're to begin the attack as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir. I also have more bad news and some minor news to report."

"You speak English well, Fidel."

"I was educated in America. An asset to you of course."

Andreas raised a doubtful brow. "?Como es que?"

"Because, unlike the other Fidel, I have more knowledge of how the world works and am not afraid to make some small decisions on my own. We have been unable to reach the operative after Collins's wife. I have sent a man to the hotel they were at. Also, a small call was made to one of the watch numbers. The message was, "Leaving town now. We are safe. Will call soon. Love you." It was made from a hotel north of Atlanta. I heard some background noise and had Guru amplify it. Play it for us, Guru."

Though garbled the words were still discernable. "See Mickey Mouse! Hurry, Aunt Angie!"

Fidel smiled and Andreas tingled with excitement. "Disney World. Bill Collins's sons are likely going to Disney World. I've checked all the events in Georgia, and in the surrounding states. There is nothing with Mickey Mouse on the ticket."

George tightened his hold on Andreas's neck and pressed his lips into a flat line, expressing his dislike of this Fidel. Andreas patted George's back and smiled back at Fidel, liking the replacement after all. "This call was made at what time?"

"Four o'clock today."

"Divert our flight to Orlando. By morning I want every man possible looking for Collins's twin sons wherever Mickey Mouse can be seen. There will be only so many blond, identical-looking little boys at the amusement park. The odds are more than in our favor. Excelente, Fidel."

Fort Bragg, North Carolina

0330 hours, August 7th

Unable to sleep, Roger was already awake when DT called.

"You're what?

"I'm here. About five miles out and I have an assassin cuffed in the trunk. Hopefully he's still alive."

"You don't make life easy."

"I could divert and pound his ass six feet under before returning. He's gassed me twice, shot me once, and has terrorized Lauren and her kids. I owe him."

"I didn't mean for extremes. He isn't a target and you aren't on a mission."

"Which is exactly why he's alive and in my trunk. He might even know who's behind Lebanon."

Roger ran a harried hand through his hair. "You can't bring the SOB on post. Go to my house in town. You know where the key is. Let me make a few calls for a couple of babysitters to come. You and Lauren can bunk there until morning then we'll deal."

"Make it fast. We've got more information, an email account, and a partial page of a letter Collins sent to one of his friends is being faxed to your office. The man's wife was shot and the attacker got the first part of it. She's in critical condition."

"And we still have no idea what this is about?"

"I've got two million, but I think it's more than money and it's global."

"Got it."

"See you at o-dark-thirty."

"It's already o-dark-thirty," Roger replied and hung up the phone. By the time he found a couple of good guys to help out DT, the phone rang again.

It was Dean, from Langley.

"You're up late."

"Still at the office and not even close to quitting time. I thought I'd give you the heads up, though."

"On what?"

"Fire and Brimstone are coming your way," Dean quipped.

"Meaning?" Roger rubbed the aching knot of tension between his eyes.

"Not only will the SOB SOO I told you about but also some NCS peeps will be on your doorstep by 0630. My inquiries hit a hornet's nest. They want to talk to you directly and to your man."

"Nice notice."

"Yeah, well. They thought it rude to wake you. I didn't. You've hit on something big and the SOO isn't sharing. He's shut down tight on all information. You owe me for this one."

"I keep hearing that. Thanks for the call." Roger disconnected. He'd have to call his cousin first thing in the morning. He hated to start the President's day out with this mess, but better that than it all blowing up in Paul's face. Part of Weston wanted to believe DT was on the right trail to explain Lebanon. Part of him didn't want anyone to look at what happened twice. With the CIA and NCS jumping into the situation, it could cause big problems.

Every time Lauren's eyes drooped shut and sleep lay but a whisper away, she found herself jerking awake, sure that proverbial bullet headed her way would hit home. She supposed her paranoia was a normal, given the events of the past forty-eight hours. It also didn't help that an assassin was bound and gagged in a room on the other side of the house.

Sure, two capable men toting guns were in the house as well as Jack. One guard was inside the room with the tied up gunman-she had a problem referring to him as a prisoner, because he wasn't a victim or a hostage but a disabled murderer. The other guard sat just outside that door. Jack was on the couch in the living room between her and the assassin. Jack had distanced himself since the attack at the hotel and it bothered her. It wasn't that she'd expected wine and roses, but the easy warmth they'd shared after making love had been good. Really good. Now it was gone.

She wasn't even sure why he'd shut down. He had blamed himself several times for being caught off guard. Had said he should be shot for letting it happen. She'd looked at him and told him to cut himself some slack. He had been shot for starters.