Beyond Limits (Tracers #8)(6)
“Have you been following the news out of Afghanistan?”
She cleared her throat. “You mean the hostages?”
“Yes.”
“The newspaper said they were rescued by NATO forces.”
The paper hadn’t specified what type of forces. But since meeting a SEAL team last summer, Elizabeth had been paying close attention and had learned to read between the lines. A team of commandos storming a compound and plucking civilians from the hands of Taliban insurgents? The mission had SEAL written all over it.
“Many of the details weren’t made public.” Gordon turned to face her. “The team that conducted the raid recovered some interesting info during their SSE sweep.”
SSE. She racked her brain.
“Sensitive site exploitation,” he provided.
“You mean computers?”
“A laptop, a thumb drive. The information there was surprisingly minimal, but they also collected a cache of papers, including several detailed maps of Houston.”
Houston. Not D.C., not New York, but Houston, Texas. Elizabeth’s palms felt sweaty and she tucked them into her pockets. “What’s in Houston?”
He smiled slightly. “You mean besides six million people? Three major sports venues, a world-renowned medical center, a Christian megachurch.” He sat on the edge of Maxwell’s desk. “Not to mention the corporate headquarters of some of the world’s largest energy companies.”
She clamped her mouth shut. Maybe she’d look less ignorant if she let him talk.
“It was a take-no-prisoners raid,” he continued. “However, when the commandos saw this cache of intel, they grabbed a young man who’d been subdued, hoping some of our CIA guys could persuade him to talk.”
“Did they?”
His mouth tightened. “He’s no longer cooperating.”
What did that mean, exactly?
“And unfortunately, after poring through all the intel, our analysts believe the terrorists planning the attack were not in the compound when the raid went down. As far as we know, they’re still at large.” He paused and watched her. “Homeland Security’s staffed up a joint task force to investigate this potential plot and interrupt it.”
Elizabeth’s mind was reeling. She’d admired Gordon since the day she’d met him, both as an investigator and as a leader. The thought of working with him again made her giddy and nervous and terrified all at the same time.
He stepped closer and gazed down at her.
“Your SAC says you had a rough spring. He thinks you’re not up for this assignment.”
Anger welled in her chest.
“If you join my team, I need to know that you’re one hundred percent. Are you?”
“One hundred and ten. Sir.”
He held her gaze, the human lie detector. Her heart thudded so loudly she could hear it. Time seemed to stretch out. He glanced at his watch. “Be at San Antonio International Airport in two hours. Pack light.”
Relief flooded her. “We’re going to Houston?”
“California. Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, to be precise.” He crossed the room and reached for the door. “We need to interview some SEALs.”
Chapter Two
It felt good to be back in the water after six long months in the mountains, where the air was so thin it made his lungs burn. Derek was trained to operate in all environments—sea, air, and land—but having grown up on the Texas coast, he’d always preferred the sea.
He glided through the water, moving mostly by instinct. It was just after sundown. The currents and boat traffic of San Diego Bay churned up sediment, and visibility was for shit. But Derek liked to work by feel. He was under the belly of the ship, skimming his hand along the hull in search of his objective.
He felt a tug on the line attaching him to his partner. Luke emerged from the shadows, holding the glowing attack board, which showed their depth and their precise location to within a meter. Luke signaled him. Twenty meters to go investigating the hull of this boat, and they still hadn’t located the explosive. Derek checked his dive watch and kept swimming. He’d be damned if a crew of jarheads was going to beat him to the punch.
Tonight’s training op came to them courtesy of an ongoing rivalry between Jeff Hallenback, Derek’s CO, and a Marine commander who’d been one of his classmates at the Naval Academy. Each team was searching a guided-missile destroyer much like the USS Cole, which had been attacked by Al Qaeda terrorists while docked in Yemen. The objective was simple: find and disarm a timed explosive device hidden somewhere on the boat. May the best team win.
It was a classic SEAL mission and should have been no sweat, but Derek’s team wasn’t exactly operating on all cylinders. Sean’s death was an open wound. Every last one of them had been hit hard, especially Luke, who’d been Sean’s swim buddy during BUD/S training. The CO knew his men were hurting, so he’d arranged to squeeze in a few training ops before sending them on leave. To some it might seem cruel, but Hallenback understood his team, and they respected him for it. So despite tired bodies and flagging spirits, they were putting their full effort into tonight’s exercise.
Not to mention that they were competitive. Tonight’s winners would get a ride back to base aboard a motorized boat. The losers would get a rubber raft and a pair of oars.