women and children. This group is like nothing we’ve ever seen.
“They’re not simple terrorists,” he continued. “I’ve never seen this kind of military power, and from what we’ve learned, this group is well financed. They have military and tactical abilities beyond the norm. They’re recruiting from other countries to join this faction, from across Europe. They’re also systematically gaining ground in Turkey, Iraq, and Syria. This isn’t an easy in-and-out extraction. And the women they took…” Cassidy just shook his head. “Wouldn’t hold out much hope for their safe return.” He walked around the table to a screen with a satellite feed. “This is their camp, one of them, where we believe they have Tucker and the lieutenant commander. They have a dozen buildings. We think they’re keeping the prisoners somewhere in this area. As you can see from the sheer numbers, getting into this camp is next to impossible. These guys are set up well. They have their own satellite and a weapon source in the Middle East. I swear I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Eric didn’t know what to say as he looked at the encampment. What the hell had Joe been thinking, going in there after them? He hadn’t been trained for this kind of extraction. Why did he feel he needed to be the one to save those women? Had Mary-Margaret been right to worry about Joe and his distractions? Eric hoped he was wrong. If they managed to get Joe out alive, he planned to have a heart to heart with the man about what had been going through his head.
“So what exactly is the plan?” he asked, turning to the commander, who directed his attention to Cassidy.
“Captain Hamilton,” Cassidy replied, “we’re going to have to work out a way of getting in there without getting ourselves killed.”
Chapter 10
Joe opened his eyes. Had he died?
The sun was streaming over his face. There was light, and he realized he was comfortable, no longer on a stone floor with the stench of decay and rot around him. He was warm, on a mattress, covered by a blanket.
“You’re awake. That’s good. I was starting to worry that one of my men hit you harder than necessary. No worries, though. He’s been taken care of.”
Joe didn’t know what to say. He stared into blue eyes so hard they could have been made of steel. The man’s face was square, with a strong jaw. He had brown hair and was of average height, with broad shoulders. Joe could see he was a soldier, a man in good shape. He wore a burgundy knit shirt and black pants, and Joe didn’t miss the tactical watch on his wrist. Nothing cheap or average, it was the kind worn by those in the special forces.
He looked up and took in his surroundings. This wasn’t a prison—this was a home, a nice one, judging by the stone walls, the lighting, and the four-poster bed he was lying on. There was an area rug in rich gold, as well as green chairs, occasional tables, and artwork. It was the comfort level that surprised him.
He heard a strange sound. The man spoke perfect English, with no accent, as he sat there watching Joe, arms crossed over his chest at the end of the bed. He was focused on Joe and then glanced ever so slowly across the room, as if leading Joe with his eyes to what had made the noise. Joe followed where he was looking, and it took him a moment to get through the shock of seeing a woman chained to the wall.
She had her legs bent and curled up, trying to hide her naked body. She had dark skin and short, dark hair, and he could see only the side of her face, as she was looking down, her wrists cuffed. The chain was looped to a hook in the wall by her head. It was Grieger, and he realized then that the sound he had heard was her whimpering. What the hell had been done to her?
“She’s a fine specimen,” the man said. “My men have enjoyed her well.” He wandered over to a chair: dark wood with a deep, plush velvet seat. He lounged in it and ran his finger under his lips as
“They’re not simple terrorists,” he continued. “I’ve never seen this kind of military power, and from what we’ve learned, this group is well financed. They have military and tactical abilities beyond the norm. They’re recruiting from other countries to join this faction, from across Europe. They’re also systematically gaining ground in Turkey, Iraq, and Syria. This isn’t an easy in-and-out extraction. And the women they took…” Cassidy just shook his head. “Wouldn’t hold out much hope for their safe return.” He walked around the table to a screen with a satellite feed. “This is their camp, one of them, where we believe they have Tucker and the lieutenant commander. They have a dozen buildings. We think they’re keeping the prisoners somewhere in this area. As you can see from the sheer numbers, getting into this camp is next to impossible. These guys are set up well. They have their own satellite and a weapon source in the Middle East. I swear I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Eric didn’t know what to say as he looked at the encampment. What the hell had Joe been thinking, going in there after them? He hadn’t been trained for this kind of extraction. Why did he feel he needed to be the one to save those women? Had Mary-Margaret been right to worry about Joe and his distractions? Eric hoped he was wrong. If they managed to get Joe out alive, he planned to have a heart to heart with the man about what had been going through his head.
“So what exactly is the plan?” he asked, turning to the commander, who directed his attention to Cassidy.
“Captain Hamilton,” Cassidy replied, “we’re going to have to work out a way of getting in there without getting ourselves killed.”
Chapter 10
Joe opened his eyes. Had he died?
The sun was streaming over his face. There was light, and he realized he was comfortable, no longer on a stone floor with the stench of decay and rot around him. He was warm, on a mattress, covered by a blanket.
“You’re awake. That’s good. I was starting to worry that one of my men hit you harder than necessary. No worries, though. He’s been taken care of.”
Joe didn’t know what to say. He stared into blue eyes so hard they could have been made of steel. The man’s face was square, with a strong jaw. He had brown hair and was of average height, with broad shoulders. Joe could see he was a soldier, a man in good shape. He wore a burgundy knit shirt and black pants, and Joe didn’t miss the tactical watch on his wrist. Nothing cheap or average, it was the kind worn by those in the special forces.
He looked up and took in his surroundings. This wasn’t a prison—this was a home, a nice one, judging by the stone walls, the lighting, and the four-poster bed he was lying on. There was an area rug in rich gold, as well as green chairs, occasional tables, and artwork. It was the comfort level that surprised him.
He heard a strange sound. The man spoke perfect English, with no accent, as he sat there watching Joe, arms crossed over his chest at the end of the bed. He was focused on Joe and then glanced ever so slowly across the room, as if leading Joe with his eyes to what had made the noise. Joe followed where he was looking, and it took him a moment to get through the shock of seeing a woman chained to the wall.
She had her legs bent and curled up, trying to hide her naked body. She had dark skin and short, dark hair, and he could see only the side of her face, as she was looking down, her wrists cuffed. The chain was looped to a hook in the wall by her head. It was Grieger, and he realized then that the sound he had heard was her whimpering. What the hell had been done to her?
“She’s a fine specimen,” the man said. “My men have enjoyed her well.” He wandered over to a chair: dark wood with a deep, plush velvet seat. He lounged in it and ran his finger under his lips as
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