State of Conspiracy (Titus Black Thriller series Book 8) Read online

  “Well, here’s your chance to do something about it,” Shields said.

  “What do you need?”

  “I need to speak to your pilot,” she said. “We’re going to reroute you to Camp Simba in Kenya where you can gear up and make a HALO drop into Congo. From there, it’ll be up to you to decide how this kidnapping ends.”

  “Hopefully with lots of enemy carnage and one sound Secretary of State.”

  “That’s my vote for how things should go,” she said. “I’ll send all the intel we have to your phone once I speak with the captain.”

  “Roger that,” Black said.

  “And Titus?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’ll be on your own, so you better come back alive.”

  He smiled. “I’d never dream of failing.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Kwango Province, Congo

  RACHEL GELLER REACHED for the back of her head to soothe the throbbing pain. However, her arms were restricted by the bindings wrapped tightly around her wrists. She struggled for a few seconds before realizing her attempts were futile.

  A sharp object jabbed her in the back, causing her to twist away from it. When she did, she rolled over a lumpy object before coming face to face with the vacant stare of Agent Nixon. Geller shrieked and turned away, only to find Janet’s bloodied face on the other side.

  Geller writhed around, attempting to escape the bodies of her friends covering the back of the flatbed truck. The terrorists seated on benches encircling the bed of dead bodies laughed at Geller, making her almost wish she’d been one of the casualties. They all leered at her, flashing toothy grins and mischievous looks.

  What am I in for? I should’ve listened to Janet. At least she’s dead.

  The truck bounced along the road riddled with potholes. For a minute, she wondered how it would feel if she could jump out of the moving vehicle. If she was lucky, maybe she’d get run over by the truck trailing behind them. Or she’d split her head open and die instantly.

  She glanced at one of the men who smiled and winked at her.

  Closing her eyes, she considered never opening them again. Unable to burrow through the bodies of her friends and avoid the creepy stares of the armed guards hovering over her, she said another prayer and braced for the worst.

  “Now maybe the U.S. government will listen to us,” one of the men said.

  She glared at him. “If you think this is going to get your voice heard, you’re in for a big surprise.”

  “No, ma’am,” the soldier said, wagging his finger at her. “You’re the one who’s in for a big surprise. Just you wait.”

  Geller stared at him as he bellowed with laughter. She drew her legs into her chest before exploding her feet into his knees. The man’s jovial expression transformed into an anguishing howl.

  He growled as he stood–just before turning his weapon around and smashing the butt of his rifle into her head.

  * * *

  WHEN GELLER regained consciousness, she was fastened to a wooden chair in the middle of a dark tent. A few stray beams of sunlight streamed through slits in the canvas, illuminating enough of her surroundings to recognize how stark the place was. Aside from her chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a table directly across from her and another table. A small oil lamp rested in the center.

  As she looked over her shoulder, the only other detail she noticed was red spatter marks on the canvas behind her. The image sent a chill down her spine as she imagined how many people had been sitting in the exact same spot she was before they met an untimely demise.

  Another fifteen minutes passed before a man entered, flanked by his entourage. She recognized the man right away as Emmanuel Kazadi, the leader of the Allied Democratic Forces, also known as ADF. For years, the ADF had been attempting to be recognized by the global community as the governing entity of the country. But despite the organization’s name, it used fear and terror to accomplish its objectives, devoid of any semblance of a democracy.

  Kazadi had been on the U.S.’s radar for a while. But despite its best efforts to infiltrate the ranks of ADF, Kazadi’s whereabouts remained difficult to pin down. He had more than a dozen hideouts scattered throughout Congo’s vast jungle and moved regularly between them, making catching him next to impossible. Now he was six feet away but was still untouchable.

  Kazadi struck a match and lit the lamp on the table in front of him. He dismissed all of the soldiers who’d entered the room with him before clasping his hands and leaning forward.

  Kazadi wore a wide grin before he addressed her. “Secretary Geller, I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with the ADF while in Africa. As you might imagine, we often feel ignored by the United States and other European countries. But I can’t tell you how overjoyed I am to get this opportunity to speak with you.”

  Geller huffed a soft laugh through her nose. “I am a captive audience.”

  Kazadi rubbed his hands together. “It’s as much for your safety as it is for mine.”

  “You think I’m going to hurt you? Is that why you bound me to this chair?” Geller said as she struggled against the ropes. “The leader of the ADF is afraid of a woman?”

  “Not just any woman,” Kazadi said, wagging his index finger. “I read about what you did to those Taliban men in Afghanistan when they took you prisoner. I won’t make the same mistake.”

  “You’ve already made one enormous mistake,” she said.

  “And what is that?”

  “You captured me in the first place. And you’re going to rue the moment you made that decision.”

  “I would never be so flippant about scheduling a meeting with the head of state for one of the most powerful nations on earth,” Kazadi said. “I want our countries to work together.”

  Geller shifted in her chair. “In case you haven’t noticed, the U.S. actually does work with the government in this country.”

  “Not the legal and recognized governing body.”

  Geller chuckled and shook her head. “You think creating a few militia camps in the jungle and building your army by forcing children to fight for you make you a legal government? Please.”

  “We stand for the people that our corrupt leaders have abandoned time after time. Without us, they would have no voice. As an American, I think you have a firm understanding of that concept.”

  Geller nodded. “There are better ways to address your grievances.”

  “If I threw tea into the river, would that get the world’s attention?” Kazadi asked mockingly. “No, I didn’t think so. But I can assure, I will have it now.”

  Geller laughed. “You clearly haven’t thought this through. The moment you attempt to let the world know that you have taken me hostage is the moment Special Forces discover my location. And I can assure you that it won’t go well for you.”

  “They will not let you die.”

  “The U.S. government does not negotiate with terrorists.”

  Kazadi laughed. “The ADF has untold riches that say otherwise, thanks to your predecessor. Please stop repeating that ridiculous lie. Anyone with two eyes can see that you say one thing and do another.”

  “President Young won’t negotiate for me; that much I can promise. If you make any attempt to humiliate him, I can promise you that he will light up this camp, and every living thing within a mile radius of here will be dead.”

  Kazadi stood and then walked behind Geller. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I look forward to proving you wrong.”

  She craned her neck to see his face, but instead all she saw was the butt of his handgun as he pistol whipped her and knocked her out.

  CHAPTER 12

  Washington, D.C.

  BLUNT TAPPED HIS CANE on the ground twice and then tossed it into the air. He caught it with his left hand before settling into the chair behind his desk at the Firestorm headquarters. Jana Shadid, the team’s chief engineer, made a few tweaks to the device after converting it into a w
eapon. She’d strengthened the outside with slightly heavier material but used new lighter material for the cane’s weapon portion.

  “How does it feel?” Jana asked as she watched him fiddling with the cane.

  Blunt smiled as he wrapped both hands around it and swung it like a baseball bat. “I’m ready for a chance to crack some heads.”

  “Too bad Agent Black isn’t in today,” she said. “I’m sure he’d give you ample excuses today to try it out on him.”

  Blunt wagged his finger at her. “That sense of humor of yours is getting better every day.”

  She stared at him. “Do you think I’m joking?”

  “You’re good,” Blunt said with a chuckle. “You almost got me there. Now then, what can I do for you this morning?”

  “Let me know if you need any help with this situation in Congo,” she said. “I think I’ve been cooped up in the lab for too long.”

  “Take the morning off,” Blunt said. “Go run in the park. If you need some time, take it.”

  “I don’t need it,” she said. “I just feel so helpless right now, and that’s what I want to do more than anything.”

  “When the opportunity arises, I’ll call you in. But in the meantime, keep making those awesome gadgets you’re putting together. If you’re going to help, that’s the way you’ll be able to do it right now.”

  “You got it, boss,” she said, mimicking the tone of a mobster.

  Blunt laughed again. “Did you just watch The Godfather like I recommended?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t get much sleep though. That movie terrified me.”

  Jana left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

  Blunt turned his attention to the latest report he’d received from Black, who was preparing to embark on his flight deep into the Congo jungle. The level of difficulty was high, though if anyone could successfully complete the mission, Black could. His reputation for carrying around a death wish made him perfect for the operation, even if it put Shields on edge.

  The Firestorm director wasn’t sure what was going on between Black and Shields, but Blunt detected a recent change in their relationship. And he didn’t need to work in intelligence to know what was likely to have precipitated the change.

  A few minutes later, Blunt’s phone buzzed with an incoming call from the White House.

  “Please hold for the President of the United States,” a woman said.

  Blunt drummed his fingers on his desk, bracing for Young’s ire.

  “I should’ve never let her go,” Young said, dispensing with pleasantries. “I warned her that this kind of thing could happen, but she convinced me that it wouldn’t.”

  “Isn’t that the epitome of what diplomats do?” Blunt asked. “They try to cajole a relationship to get the best possible outcome for their side?”

  “You’re not making this any easier,” Young said.

  “Sorry, sir. I’m just trying to point out that she’s wired that way. It’s why you hired her in the first place.”

  “True, true. However, I never expected her to use her manipulative powers on me.”

  “I don’t think she was manipulating you,” Blunt said. “She’s an optimist at heart, and frankly, anyone in that position needs to be. Otherwise, they’d be another extension of your defense secretary, who’s always pounding the drums of war.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, but that doesn’t change the situation we’re in. J.D., if the news leaks out that Secretary Geller has been captured by the ADF after what happened in the Caribbean with Secretary Hatcher, I’m furthering the argument that I am weak on defense.”

  “That’s why we need to go after the Fullgood Initiative, sir,” Blunt said. “I think it’s obvious that there are still holdovers that we haven’t outed yet.”

  “Give it up, J.D. I’m not pardoning Norman Fox.”

  Blunt sighed. “It was worth a try.”

  “So, tell me where we’re at,” Young said. “I can’t keep the hounds at bay all that long. I’ve heard that there are some journalists frothing at the mouth to share the reports they’ve heard.”

  “Her office will deny everything, sir.”

  “Yeah, but not forever. They can stall by saying that they can’t comment on specifics regarding Geller’s whereabouts due to security measures. But when she doesn’t show up in Pretoria, we’re going to have a big problem.”

  “When is she due in Pretoria?”

  “Less than twenty-four hours.”

  “I’ve got one of my best men preparing to make a HALO jump into the jungle where she’s located. An all-out offensive would undoubtedly end in her death, but Agent Black provides us with our best opportunity to break her out of the ADF camp and return her to safety.”

  “Keep me posted when you hear something, anything,” Young said. “I’m anxious to put this whole thing to rest.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  For the next hour, Blunt tracked Black’s progress in the military plane. The Firestorm director paced the floor in his office, feeling helpless to assist with the operation. His nerves, however, were given a short reprieve when Ned Edgerton rapped on the door jamb of Blunt’s office.

  “Edge,” Blunt said enthusiastically as he shot out of his seat. “It’s so good to see you.”

  The two men shook hands before Blunt invited Edge to sit. With Colt unwilling to help Blunt expose Elaine Gibbons, he had to resort to other measures. And Edge was a strong backup plan.

  “Did you get a chance to look at the documents I sent you on Gibbons?” Blunt asked.

  Edge nodded. “Seems pretty straightforward to me. A straight background check along with a thorough inspection for skeletons in the closet.”

  “Exactly. We did a preliminary workup on her, but she came out smelling like roses. And whenever that happens, I get real suspicious.”

  Edge scowled. “Didn’t you mention to me that you were going to Laramie to speak with her?”

  “Things didn’t go like I’d planned,” Blunt said. “I was going to use some back channels to get her on some trumped up charges from a black hat hacker outside the agency, but that didn’t work out either.”

  “Glad to know I’m your plan C,” Edge said with a phony grin.

  “You should’ve been my plan A, but I don’t always do things in the right order.”

  Edge chuckled. “Just keep diggin’ that hole, J.D. Sooner or later, you’re bound to hit bottom.”

  “All right, all right,” Blunt said with a smile. “Get outta here and go find out what Elaine Gibbons or Betty Green or whatever the hell that woman’s name is has against the federal government.”

  Edge gathered the documents, spun on his heels, and left the room.

  Blunt hadn’t been alone more than five minutes before Shields shuffled inside and sat down.

  “What is it?” Blunt asked. “Any updates from Agent Black?”

  “I really should be there for this mission.”

  Blunt sighed as he rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers. “There’s something going on between you two, isn’t there?”

  “Absolutely not,” Shields said. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “For starters, all of a sudden you just need to be on-site for this operation,” Blunt said. “And you can fulfill all your duties just fine from your office down the hall. So, I ask myself, why the change? And usually the most obvious answer is the right one.”

  “Nothing’s going on,” Shields said. “There are just too many things that can go wrong with our communications, not to mention the unreliable satellite technology we have access to.”

  “You mean like it did during the operation to take out Ahmed?”

  “Now you’re smellin’ what I’m steppin’ in.”

  Blunt drummed his fingers on his desk. “You ought to know by now that we can’t get all the conditions as favorable as we’d like them. And while I would like better technology for you, there’s no time to pine about it. Now, where is Agent Black?�
��

  “He’s about to make the jump,” she said. “He’s about ten minutes out.”

  “Good,” Blunt said. “Keep me posted when you get his body cam feed once he nears the compound. The president is nagging me for an update and I want to keep him well-informed.”

  “Roger that,” she said before leaving Blunt alone in his office.

  He smiled and shook his head as she walked away.

  Analysts make lousy liars.

  CHAPTER 13

  Kwango Province, Congo

  BLACK PULLED HIS CHUTE and navigated to the ground in a clearing around the Kwango River. He had aimed to land around five kilometers away from the camp where the ADF held Secretary Geller. Black noticed a handful of children sprinting toward the water, shouting playfully at him from the other side of the bank. He gathered up his parachute and raced into the jungle. News of his arrival would undoubtedly spread rapidly through the area, reducing the amount of time he had to rescue Geller.

  Black dug a hole to bury his chute and then started his trek toward the camp. He hadn’t walked more than a couple of minutes before he froze at the sound of a twig snapping behind him. Black darted behind a tree before peeking around the edge.

  “Who are you?” a young man asked in French.

  Black studied him closely before responding. Sweat beaded up on his dark forehead, his hair completely shaven. He held a walking stick in one hand and a fishing pole in the other.

  “I’m a friend,” Black replied in French. “Can you help me?”

  The boy shrugged, twisting his body. As he exposed his right arm to Black, he noticed a long gnarly scar.

  “Who did that to you?” Black asked.

  The man pointed with his nose in the direction Black had been walking.

  “What happened?”

  The man’s head dropped. He stared at the ground, digging in the dirt.

  Black pointed at the Kwango River. “How well do you know these waters?”

  “Like the back of my hand.”

  “Would you be willing to help me get close to the camp?”