“That sounds encouraging,” Hawk said wryly. That was one thing he had noticed about these GEM and COSCO operatives. They tended to talk in ratios and percentages, assets and losses. “So why do you think she tapped my line?”
“How did she do that in the first place? Did you meet her personally already?”
Hawk scowled. He knew Jed would want to know what happened. It wasn’t easy admitting that he’d managed to be drugged. He briefly outlined the events from the night before—the fight, the needle, his few hours on the floor. His SEAL team commander, Admiral Madison, wouldn’t be pleased that one of his men had been taken down so easily.
“Now you know what kind of woman you’re dealing with,” Jed said quietly. There wasn’t any hint of humor or anger in his voice. “Amber Hutchens is a very careful woman. She was probably testing you because the last operative the CIA sent over nearly blew her cover. She’s also a contract agent, not necessarily a hundred percent loyal to one agency. From her viewpoint, information is valuable and it doesn’t hurt to get it in any way possible. And if you’re a weak link, she made her point if she’d succeeded in tapping your phone and finding out information and about my whereabouts. It looks like she might not cooperate.”
“I’ll take care of her test,” Hawk said. “I’ll convince her I’m capable.”
“How?”
“By doing something that’ll catch her attention. She’s into information and testing. I’ll take her on her challenge and then some.”
“Interesting. It’s always good to show that you can do the same thing she did to you,” Jed suggested. “It might gain her respect.”
Hawk hadn’t given the full details of where Miss Hutchens had left her message. He doubted any of his intentions would get that result. In fact, he was getting pissed off at being put on the defensive; this wasn’t a usual position for him and it didn’t sit comfortably.
“I intend to get to know how she works,” Hawk said. “I don’t care about her respect. I do need her constant cooperation, though, if she’s to be my guide. I can’t have an operative testing my decisions every step of the way.”
“You have limited time to get acquainted with Amber while you find the locations of Dilaver’s weapon silos,” Jed said. “Any headway on that?”
“Dilaver has been recovering from his wound, so he’s been using his cell phone a lot. But he’s doing a rundown of some sort now and as a side note, there’s trouble brewing in his business. Velesta is supposed to be one stop of many. I’m slowly getting the feel of his holdings and operation procedures.” Hawk paused, then added softly, “His sex-slave operation’s very big.”
“That part of his business is his credit card. Your goal, lieutenant, is to look for the hidden weapons, especially the most recent ones that were dropped off while Dilaver was in Asia. I know he’s human trash, but it isn’t your job to take care of him that way.”
“I know that, McNeil,” Hawk said, “but I also want you to know that if I weren’t doing this as part of a joint mission between your agency and my team, Dilaver would be put out of commission. I have seen enough.”
Too damn much, in fact. The images of the locked-up young girls at thekafenaswere starting to haunt his nights.
“Madison said you’re one of his best men. Tell me now whether you can do this, that you won’t let other things interfere with the main mission. We can’t afford any misstep here,” Jed said, his voice calm and assessing over the phone. “You must gain Dilaver’s trust, and that means getting your hands dirty. The admiral told me you could do this.”
Hawk had to give Jed credit. Bringing up his commander was good. As a SEAL, it was ingrained in him to handle anything to get the job done. Physically, he had barely any challenge—guiding the injured Dilaver and his men out of a particularly hostile Asian mountainous terrain was child’s play. Mentally, he had been taught to block pain and emotion when he was in the war theater, but watching women and young girls victimized had been—he hated to admit it, even to himself—very, very tough.
“McMillan.”
He realized Jed had been waiting for some kind of reply, and it had better be convincing or he’d be pulled off the job. “I have been doing it,” he said crisply. “Dilaver’s now going to different cities and I’m mapping out the routes. I’ll find out more very soon.”
“Good. I’ll wait for your communication. And Hawk…” Jed waited a beat to get his attention. “Don’t underestimate Amber. This business of ours isn’t black and white. You either learn to function within a gray area or be killed.”
Hawk looked thoughtfully at the cell phone after Jed rang off. As usual, he had more questions after talking to Jed. Why had Amber Hutchens been placed here for four years in the first place? And exactly what information did she sell to Dilaver? What did she get in return?
The more he learned about the lady, the more intrigued he was. Underestimate her? He hadn’t been given the chance. But she had shown her disdain for him by initiating this pissing contest, introducing herself with a…memorable and naughty handshake.
He pocketed the phone. Gray ethics, huh? He could only misbehave in return.
Brad frowned. She was here. Amber hadn’t mentioned it—would she be joining them for dinner? It had been almost six weeks since she had gone off on one of her “trips.”
He stepped out of his car and locked it, his eyes trained on the little European car parked two cars down. He wasn’t going to let her leave this time without first talking with him. The problem was, Llallana Noretski wasn’t an easy person to corner.
The Last Resort was a small café, decorated like an American diner, with out-of-the-way things like a scarecrow sitting on a rocking chair in one corner and pictures of American movie stars and NASCAR drivers on the walls. Things from home for homesick young American peacekeepers. Even the tablecloths looked homey, with their cheerful prints of Americana.
As usual, it was bustling with activity, filled with hungry men looking for home cooking. They all recognized him, of course, and he nodded to those who made eye contact. Unlike the previous department head, he hadn’t gone out partying and thus was getting to know some of these men casually. He didn’t like some of the entertainment the men had gone for, and one of these days he would addressthatproblem, too.
“Those are beautiful flowers, Brad,” Amber said as she walked toward him.
And as usual, all male eyes followed the owner of the café. Amber Hutchens wasn’t just attractive; she was strikingly beautiful, of the All-American blond and blue-eyed variety. She had pulled her shoulder-length hair into a chignon, showing off the gold loops in her ears. The smile she gave him lit up her eyes.
“I spent a fortune,” he told her, as she kissed the corner of his mouth.
