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She grabbed her phone from the pocket and managed to gasp out, “I’m free,” to Morgan between heaving breaths. “I made it out of the market and the security team had a car there. We’re heading away from the market now.”
“Oh thank god!” Morgan said. “But how did security get there so fast? A minute ago, they said they were stuck in traffic. According to my map, they’re still several blocks away.”
For the first time, Diana looked up at the men in the front seat. She glimpsed the driver’s face in the rearview mirror. He didn’t look familiar. Nor did the man in the passenger seat.
But it had definitely been Oman who’d waved her into the vehicle.
Oman, who was supposed to pick her up today, but had supposedly been sick.
The security company had claimed her escort had been canceled. Something Oman could easily have done himself. That wouldn’t even require hacking.
The passenger grinned and pulled out his gun, pointing it at her face. “Give me your phone, Dr. Edwards. Where we’re going, you won’t be needing it.”
Chapter Two
USS Dahlgren
Mediterranean Sea
Lieutenant Chris Flyte took his seat at the back of the briefing room, his heart already pumping with energy at the prospect of a mission. The other members of his sixteen-man SEAL platoon took their seats, their faces showing the same curiosity and adrenaline he felt. Even though he’d been a SEAL longer than most in this room, Chris was the newbie here, having transferred from a Coronado-based team to a Little Creek team in July.
His new teammates ranged in age from twenty-one to his own thirty-five. Chris was one of three Black men on the team. One man was Filipino American, another a Native Hawaiian. Four were Hispanic and the remaining seven were white.
He’d had six weeks to train with this team before they’d been deployed to this aircraft carrier for a lengthy rotation as it cruised through the Mediterranean. They’d been on Dahlgren for only a few days, running drills, ready to deploy at a moment’s notice if needed.
Now it appeared they were needed. His first op with this team.
The leadership of Naval Special Warfare Command entered the room. Everyone stood at attention, then quickly resumed their seats so the briefing could begin. A white male Navy captain directed all eyes to a large monitor mounted to the wall that showed the NSWC logo. The captain clicked the remote to change the slide.
A larger-than-life image of a woman’s face and upper torso filled the screen. Lightly tanned white skin, dark hair of indeterminate length as it was pulled back in a tight bun, mottled green-and-brown eyes. Thin nose and pointed chin. Her attractive face wore a serious expression. It was obvious this was a professional portrait of some kind.
The captain began without preamble. “Twenty-five minutes ago, Dr. Diana Edwards was abducted just outside the gate of a public market in Amman, Jordan. Dr. Edwards was working for a local university as a guest professor leading an excavation on a site in the desert with a team of archaeology students from Amman. In her free time—and separate from the dig—she was providing intel for Friday Morning Valkyries, a US Army contractor tasked with gathering information on the theft and sale of Middle Eastern artifacts. FMV coordinates with the Army’s Cultural Heritage Monitoring Lab. Together, the teams are working to recover or stop the looting of art and artifacts in the region. The Valkyrie group is made up of a coalition of archaeologists, historians, and art experts intent on disrupting the supply chain of artifacts being sold by the Taliban, ISIL/ISIS, al-Qaeda, and others to fund their terrorist activities.”
The senior lieutenant and leader of Chris’s new team, Lieutenant Commander Randall Fallon, spoke. “FMV is the group run by Dr. Morgan Adler and ex-CIA SAD operator Freya Lange.”
“Yes. It was Adler and Lange who notified us of the abduction,” the captain confirmed. “Until recently, Delta Force provided security for FMV’s operatives in the field—including Dr. Edwards—but authorization for that detail was cut nine weeks ago, forcing Adler and Lange to hire local contractors. It appears the hired guns had a traitor on their staff.”
Curses were muttered around the table, most vehemently by Fallon. Chris assumed he knew one or both women. This mission would be personal for him, which could get him removed from the op if he didn’t do better at hiding that fact. Clearly realizing this, Fallon straightened and asked, “What’s the current situation for Dr. Edwards?”
Chris focused on the image of the woman again as the captain answered. He’d guess she was in her midthirties. “Lange still has the instincts of an operative and connections with her former CIA colleagues. Weeks ago, she asked one of her former associates to plant an additional tracker on the vehicles used by the new security contractors. A wise move, because as far as we can tell, the company’s own tracker was magically disabled. Thanks to the secondary tracker, we know Dr. Edwards is currently on a circuitous route through the city of Amman, generally heading south. Lange believes they will connect with the historic route known as the King’s Highway and disappear into the desert.”
“What if she’s no longer in the initial vehicle?” someone asked.
“We’re working on getting a drone in place for more accurate information, but so far, the tracker has indicated the car hasn’t stopped long enough for any kind of switch. For now, our ace in the hole is that they don’t know we’re tracking the vehicle, so there’s no reason for them to ditch it.”
“So what do we do? Scramble a team to take a position on the King’s Highway? We’re what—forty-five minutes from Amman by helo?” The question came from a woman high in the ranks of Naval Special Warfare Command.
“We’ve got two Seahawks on standby. We’ll divide the platoon into two Squads, one on each bird. Fallon, you’ll lead the first, Flyte the second.”
Chris nodded in response.
“We expect she’ll be taken to a remote camp. The best-case scenario would then have her abductors making a ransom demand, giving us plenty of time to execute her exfiltration.”
“But you don’t expect a ransom demand,” Fallon said.
“No. We don’t believe Dr. Edwards was targeted for a ransom exchange.”
“What if Dr. Edwards remains in the city?” This question came from one of the brass.
