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And from the words of the captain, she assumed Diana was still in danger.
They can’t say where she is.
Morgan was no stranger to being abducted. The only reason she was here today was because the men who’d taken her needed her alive to see their plan through, so while she’d been starved, dehydrated, and chained for days, she hadn’t been otherwise assaulted until the last hours of her captivity.
Diana was at the start of her horrific ordeal and no one knew what they really wanted from her. It almost certainly had to do with her expertise as an archaeologist, but still, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be sexually abused, in addition to being starved and beaten.
There was no sound to go with the video, and Freya asked, “Can you turn on the audio?”
“Not yet. We want to know if the hand signals mean anything separate from the words being said by all parties.”
They were viewing video from a SEAL’s body camera. Morgan had spotted Lieutenant Commander Randall Fallon at the table—he’d acknowledged her and Freya with a slight nod at the start—and wondered if he was the SEAL who’d faced Diana and her captor.
Diana’s mouth moved, and the knife lowered ever so slightly. Morgan guessed she was speaking Arabic to her captor. There was a steely calm about her.
Early that morning, she’d again reviewed the SERE trainer’s report on Diana. From the looks of it, he hadn’t been wrong about Diana’s ability to compartmentalize.
At the end of all Diana’s training, Freya made the observation the woman would have made an excellent SAD operative. The CIA had known this as well and had even tried to recruit her. The job opportunity had been withdrawn when her ankle injury meant she couldn’t meet the physical requirements.
Diana’s left hand moved, and Morgan let out a gasp.
Even always-in-control Freya huffed out a shocked breath and said, “Holy shit.”
“So the hand motion means something?” someone on an aircraft carrier half a world away asked.
“It does,” Freya said. She turned to Morgan. “Where are the cards?”
Morgan was already on her feet, heading for the cabinet where she pulled out the pack of playing cards she and Freya had printed for all their Valkyries. They’d used them as flash cards more than anything, but there had been some late-night poker games once they’d learned Diana was a shark. Watching Freya and Diana play had been entertaining for Morgan. She’d been relegated to watching because both women cleaned her out quickly.
The video no longer filled the screen, and Morgan could again see the team of SEALs and military brass, which meant the team could now see her and Freya again.
She popped open the pack and dumped the cards on the table, while Freya gave the explanation. “Diana trained with us in the months before she left for Jordan. In addition to basic self-defense based on martial arts taught by Morgan, we studied all the known players in the antiquities black market in the Middle East, including the leaders of all identified terrorist groups.”
She grabbed a card from the deck and held it up to the camera. “For that, we created our own deck of cards and had Diana memorize names and faces. It doesn’t surprise me that she remembered their suit and number too. Diana has one of the best noneidetic memories I’ve encountered. She’s gifted when it comes to patterns and numbers. She could probably recite all fifty-two cards like some people say the alphabet.”
She paused, and Morgan jumped in. “In the video, we see Diana showing four fingers on her left hand, then she tucks her thumb between her middle and ring finger and taps the proximal end of her ring finger. The ring finger of her left hand, where an engagement ring would be worn. I believe she’s signaling four of diamonds, as she looks directly at your operator and mouths the words, Trust me. This could indicate Diana met with the Four of Diamonds at some point between her abduction and rescue.”
“Who is the Four of Diamonds?” one of the SEALs asked, making Morgan wonder if the video was from his bodycam.
Morgan raised the card to the camera. “Makram Rafiq.”
There was a collective gasp. Coming from a group of special forces operators, that was saying something.
“Impossible. He’s dead,” one of the commanders said.
“Apparently not,” Freya said. “Diana has a very good memory for names and faces. If she says she saw Makram Rafiq, then she saw him. Now, are you going to tell us where she is and why she asked a SEAL to trust her?”
Chris cleared his throat and spoke, not waiting for permission. These women had just changed everything they knew about the botched rescue, leaving it open to an entirely different interpretation. No way would he pass up getting answers while he had the chance. “Explain how this would lead to Dr. Edwards helping her two guards escape with her.”
The former SAD operator, Freya Lange, let out a curse. “Jesus, it’s like Morgan all over again.”
Beside him at the table, Fallon let out a grunt and said, “Morgan allowed herself to be taken because she knew they’d take her to Etefu Desta.”
This was Operation Icarus they were discussing, and now he had another puzzle piece. “So it’s possible Dr. Edwards wanted to leave with her captors because she believes she can lead us to Makram Rafiq.” Chris wanted this theory on the record.
“Yes,” Morgan said. “She has a tracker with at least three months of battery life left.”
A silence settled in the room as the words sank in. Chris played that trust me over and over in his mind.
