Chapter Forty
The HORNET’s Nest
Somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea
The door to the holding cell was blocked.
Marcus skidded to a halt and glared. “I hope you’re not about to tell me I can’t talk to the prisoner.”
Seth set aside his book and rose to his feet. His scarred face gave nothing away. “Lanie’s orders. You’re not allowed near her alone.”
“So you come in with me. I just want to ask her some questions.”
Seth crossed his arms over his chest. “Let me rephrase. You’re not allowed near Raya, period.”
“That’s bullshit.”
Seth held up his hands in a peacemaking gesture. “Hey, man. I’m following orders. Take it up with Lanie if you got a problem.”
“I’ll do that.” Marcus stomped back upstairs in search of Lanie. Two voices floated out of the conference room—one definitely female—and he headed in that direction.
Lanie sat in one of the chairs at the table, her head tipped back, her eyes closed. Jesse massaged her shoulders. A laptop lay closed on the table in front of her. She must’ve just finished updating Gabe and Quinn back at HQ.
She looked beat, and Marcus’s anger fizzled out. She was doing what she thought best for the team. He got it. Didn’t meant he liked it, but he got it.
“How you doin’, darlin’?” Jesse asked his wife softly. “And don’t shovel me some horseshit about bein’ fine. Your shoulders are like rocks.”
Her lips curved upward, but she didn’t open her eyes. “I wasn’t going to. I’m…exhausted. Worried that I’m not making the right call. What if we’re wrong and Ostermann never left Nigeria? What if we’re abandoning Jean-Luc and Dr. Oliver in another hot zone?”
“We couldn’t stay. And if Ostermann is half as smart as he thinks he is, he knew killin’ Dayo would kick off another outbreak. He wouldn’t have stayed in country either, especially now he has what he went there for. No, he scurried back to his cave with his prize, and that cave is likely in Austria. It’s a good call.”
“God. I hope so.”
“Hey.” Jesse spun her chair around and dropped into a crouch in front of her. “We’ll get the Cajun back.”
Marcus started to back away from the door. He’d let the newlyweds have a private moment and find another time to talk to Lanie about Mercedes. Because he wasn’t letting that go. He’d get his answers from the woman, one way or another.
But then Lanie said, “I’m worried about Marcus.”
What? Me? Marcus edged forward again, careful not to make any noise to give himself away.
Lanie sighed heavily and rested her forehead against Jesse’s shoulder. “He’s a ticking bomb.”
Jesse stroked her back. “I know.”
“This team is unraveling at the seams.” She gazed up at her husband. “Jess, how do I keep them together?”
He kissed her forehead. “Know what Gabe and Quinn would say if they were here? The only easy day—”
“Was yesterday.” Her voice joined with his to finish the thought.
“Right.” He cupped her cheeks in her hands. “They trust you or else they wouldn’t have handed their team over to you. And I truly believe if anyone has a shot at pullin’ this team back together, it won’t be Gabe or Quinn, or even Tuc. It’s you.”
They kissed, and Marcus backed away, quietly shutting the door to give them their privacy. He strode toward the main room on the jet, where everyone usually hung out when they weren’t sleeping or planning a mission.
A ticking bomb?
That wasn’t fair. He had every right to his anger. Anyone in his position would feel the same. Some bastard had killed his best friend—a good man. The absolute best, actually. Danny had done nothing to deserve the prolonged, bloody death he’d experienced. His final moments still haunted Marcus’s dreams.
Yeah, so maybe he was a ticking bomb, but he didn’t plan to explode until he found Danny’s killer.
Harvard was alone in the main room, kicked back in one of the jet’s leather recliners with his gaming computer on his lap. He had his headphones on again. Marcus caught a glimpse of a first person shooter game as he sat in one of the other recliners. Probably Call of Duty. It was the kid’s favorite. Something Jean-Luc had always lovingly teased him about.
Harvard ignored him. For all the reaction he showed, Marcus might as well have been a ghost.
Okay, they had more than enough problems already and didn’t need to be dealing with whatever bullshit had Harvard’s dick in a twist. Last thing he wanted was to have it out with the guy, but someone had to before they found Jean-Luc and got this mission rolling. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his neck, then relaxed in his seat and stared at Harvard.
It took a long time—kid was stubborn, had to give him that—but Harvard finally pulled off his headphones. “What. Do. You. Want?”
“All right, kid. Spill it. What’s your issue?”
“I don’t have an issue.” Harvard got up and walked over to the table he used for all of his tech stuff. He checked on a desktop computer, then another laptop, then went back to the desktop and typed something that looked like gibberish to Marcus. The computer understood it, though, and promptly set to work fulfilling the command he’d given it. A big middle finger emoji appeared on the screen.
Harvard grabbed a laptop and stalked toward the door. “I have work to do.”
Marcus watched him go, then looked at the emoji again. “Oh, yeah,” he said under his breath. “No issues at all. You’re a perfectly well-adjusted human being.”
…
Mercedes sat down on the uncomfortable bunk in her cell and told herself to calm the hell down. Her heart thundered somewhere near her tonsils and adrenaline coursed through her body, making her shake. Hearing Marcus Deangelo’s voice outside her door had sent her into fight or flight mode. The look in his eyes when she’d inadvertently given away too much about what she knew… He’d wanted her dead. No, more than that. Death would be too fast and simple. He’d want to hurt her until she gave up Sebastian.
Maybe she should give Sebastian up. It’d serve the bastard right for leaving her without a word. If he hadn’t up and left, she wouldn’t have made the colossal mistake of offering HORNET her help. If he hadn’t left…
She thought of Sebastian’s cozy cabin in the Swiss Alps. He’d bought it under a long series of aliases as an escape hatch. She’d laughed at him for it, but he’d always known the day would come he’d have to leave Defion. He’d squirreled away money and cleanskins for both of them so they could start fresh.
If he hadn’t left, they could be on their way to the cabin together right now. If she’d been brave enough to leave with him, she wouldn’t be trapped in this cell on a plane full of her enemies.
Movement outside the door caught her attention and she stiffened. Had Marcus come back to try again? She could only make out the rumble of male voices this time, the conversation too low to hear their words, but it didn’t sound tense. Not like last time. She got up and moved closer to the door. If they were discussing her future, she wanted to know what they had planned.
Her guard, the horribly scarred sniper Seth Harlan, was talking. “Marcus did try to get in a few minutes ago, but he backed off when I told him Lanie’s orders.”
His companion was too far away from the door, and she could only hear a muffled response.
“Other than that,” Seth said, “it’s been quiet. She hasn’t made a peep.”
A sound like two palms clapping together, then heavy footsteps faded away. Several minutes ticked by in silence.
Then the door opened.
Her newest visitor was better than Marcus, but only marginally. She clenched her fists at her sides until her nails dug into her palms as Ian Reinhardt’s frame filled the doorway. “What do you want?”
He said nothing for a long time. Only studied her with his dark, unreadable eyes. His hellbeast sat down next to his boots and also studied her, head slightly cocked. The tip of one of the dog’s erect ears folded over when he tilted his head and his bushy tail swiped back and forth across the floor.
Okay. When the dog wasn’t growling at her, he was pretty damn cute.
“You can’t tell them how we know each other,” Ian finally said, drawing her attention away from his dog. The words sounded like he’d had to rip them from somewhere deep inside himself.
“What? Afraid your new friends won’t like you anymore if they knew you were one of us?” She scoffed and turned away. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan to tell them anything.”
“You will tell them what you know about Danny’s murder.”
She wheeled back to face him. “Oh, you think so?”
“I’ll make you,” he said with absolutely no expression on his face.
A chill swept over her. He could do it, she knew. She’d seen exactly how adept he was at making people talk. After all, he’d learned from Harrison Stead, the maestro of torture.
But, fuck that. She wasn’t afraid of him. He may have learned “enhanced interrogation” from the best, but her life had been one continuous torture session. He could do nothing to her that hadn’t already been done.
She marched over to him and got into his face. She hated that she had to stand on her toes to do it. “You lay one hand on me, Reinhardt, and I’ll spill all of your dirty secrets.”
His lip curled. “Your loyalty to Harrison is misplaced.”
Her stomach flipped. Sebastian had said pretty much the same thing to her not all that long ago. “At least I am loyal,” she snapped. “You left. The only one who did without a death warrant hanging over his head, and my baby brother admired you for it. He wanted to be just like you.”
For the first time, Ian’s scowl faltered. “Xander.” Her brother’s name came out barely a whisper. “Fuck. Did he—”
“Yeah, he did.” Her voice grew thick and cracked. “He tried to follow in your footsteps and hasn’t been seen in almost a year.”
He didn’t respond. No apology for filling her brother’s head with nonsense ideas, but then she hadn’t really expected one from him. Ian Reinhardt would sooner shoot you than apologize.
His sneer returned in full force. “I did what I had to do to survive. I sold my soul to Harrison for my freedom.”
She huffed out a breath in disbelief. “And then what did you do? You ran off and joined the enemy.”
“You’re fucking right I did.” He backed out the door and whistled softly between his teeth for his dog. He waited for the animal to join him in the hallway, then grabbed the handle. Before shutting the door, he looked at her one last time, his gaze cold and hard. “Harrison Stead is going to die, and I’ll be the one to pull the trigger. Which side you want to be on when that happens?”
…
Marcus jolted awake at the hand shaking his shoulder. He’d drifted off in the recliner, but now he sat bolt upright and looked at Jesse. “What?”
“We got a location.”
“Ostermann?”
Jesse nodded. “Harvard’s already given the coordinates to Garcia in the cockpit. We’re headed there now. ETA ninety minutes. Lanie wants everyone in the war room for a briefin’.”
He shoved out of the chair. “It’s about damn time.”
Everyone already waited around the conference table by the time he and Jesse got there. He started toward his normal spot, but Carreras already sat there, and Devlin was in Jean-Luc’s usual seat. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Not like there were assigned seats or anything. Everyone always just gravitated to the same ones. He had half a mind to kick Carreras out, except that would cause a scene and Lanie already thought he was one sandwich short of a picnic.
Instead, he chose a different seat, and asked, “What do we know?”
Lanie nodded to Harvard, who took the floor, tablet in hand. “While we were searching for Jean-Luc and Dr. Oliver, Sami stumbled onto something weird.” He swiped a finger across his tablet, and the wall screens at the front of the room filled with photos. “Any of you recognize these people?”
Carreras pointed to one photo of a man with dark, tousled hair and a neat beard. “Lucas West. Author. What?” he asked when Devlin quirked a brow at him. “I read. He writes damn good sci-fi novels. One was even made into a movie a few years ago. Uh…” He snapped his fingers a couple times. “Hang on. It’ll come to me.”
“Memnonia,” Harvard supplied.
“Yeah. That’s it. About colonizing Mars with the best people humanity has to…” He trailed off and narrowed his eyes at the screens. “No shit. No fucking way. Is that what Ostermann’s doing?
Harvard motioned to the array of photos. “These twenty people have all disappeared in the last six months. All of them are widely considered the best in their fields. We think Ostermann’s holding them, so we should expect more hostages than just Jean-Luc and Dr. Oliver.”
Marcus held up his hand in a hold up gesture. He was still blurry from sleep and they’d lost him. “Wait, I’m not following. Ostermann wants to colonize Mars?”
“Not exactly,” Lanie said. “We think he means to re-colonize Earth. Harvard, you want to explain it?”
Harvard touched his tablet again and one of the wall screens filled with screenshots of an online message board. An old black-and-white photo of a small family from the late sixties or early seventies showed on another screen. “Sami and I had to go deep into the dark web to piece this together. There’s a small sect of the population who believe the world has gone completely to hell. These people think the only way to fix things is to essentially reboot. Ostermann has posted extensively on these message boards, under various screen names, about how the best way is with a bioweapon. He goes on and on about how the Black Plague created a golden age in the fifteenth century. Higher wages, more land and food, positive changes in medicine—”
“The Plague was a bacterial infection,” Jesse interrupted. “Unless he’s found a super-bacterium resistant to all antibiotics, he won’t be able to replicate it in the modern world.”
“So he developed a virus instead,” Marcus said softly and tried to shove the image of all those body bags at the MSF field hospital out of his head. “A virus that kills everything. That’s why he wants Claire’s research, to help protect himself and the people he chooses to save.”
Harvard made a sound that could’ve been an agreement. “He’s a calculating man and I’m sure he factored that all into his decision to use a virus for his weapon, but it wasn’t the only reason. The scars on his face?” He motioned to the family photo with his stylus. “When he was twelve, his family traveled to Yugoslavia, where he and his nanny, a Nigerian native named Kwento, caught smallpox during one of the last known outbreaks. The nanny died. He survived but was left disfigured. As far as we can tell, he blamed Kwento for getting him sick.”
Marcus sat back in his seat. “Explains why he used Nigeria as the testing ground.”
“That’s also when he became obsessed with viruses, and his obsession has only grown as he’s aged. On these message boards, he goes on and on about how viruses are humanity’s perfect catharsis. It’s…disturbing.”
“Well that’s awesome,” Marcus said and couldn’t help the sharp edge of impatience in his voice. “But knowing about the man’s past and his freaky fetish for Ebola doesn’t do shit for us if we don’t have his location.”
Harvard’s mouth turned down at the corners as he glanced over, and Marcus winced inwardly. Okay, he was being an asshole. The kid had done a lot of work and here he was brushing it all off as useless.
“I mean…” He trailed off because, yeah, he’d meant what he said. Maybe he could’ve phrased it better. He tried gentling his tone. “Do we have his location?”
After a second, Harvard returned his attention back to his tablet. “While Sami dug into Ostermann’s past, I looked for his base of operations. He owns a lot of properties all over the world, but I narrowed the parameters to places big and secluded enough to hold a bioweapons lab. Assuming he’d want his lab somewhere near his primary residence in Vienna, Austria, I also looked for any of his Austrian properties with a history of receiving medical supply shipments.” He tapped his tablet and the screen behind him filled with a castle on hill, surrounded by a moat. It looked ancient, with a lone turret spearing the misty sky, surrounded by high stone walls. The kind of place knights on horseback defended.
“This is Wasserfestung. Google tells me the literal translation is Water Fortress. It’s located on a small lake in the Austrian Alps. Built as a defense fortress in the fourteenth century—the same century as the Black Plague, which is probably why Ostermann bought it in a private sale twenty years ago. Weird thing is, the family he bought it from up and disappeared right after the sale. Now as far as official documentation goes, nobody lives there, but it’s received regular shipments from medical supply companies all over the world since it came into Ostermann’s possession. This is our place. This is where he took Jean-Luc and Dr. Oliver, and it’s probably where he’s holding his other hostages.”
“It’s a fucking castle,” Ian said and slowly stood up. “On a mountain. With a moat. How the hell do we storm a castle?”
“Carefully and with much forethought?” Carreras suggested.
Lanie shrugged. “Same as we do anything else.”
There was a moment of silence, followed by a crack of laughter from everyone that did wonders to ease the tension in the room. Even stoic Devlin’s lips twitched.
“Nah,” Carreras said and slapped his friend on the back. “You know that’s not how we do things at HumInt, Inc. We’re sloppy, but effective.”
Ian dropped back into his chair and studied the picture of the castle for a long moment, then grinned. It was kinda scary when he did that—the crocodile before he bites your leg off. “About time I get to blow shit up.”