“Meet our VIP asset. This is Erin Lopez.” Grant nodded at the woman. “She is a Project Manager working for NexGen, an oil company working out of the Kurdish region of Iraq. Two hours ago, while touring a facility outside Mosul, a group of extremists breached their security and kidnapped Ms. Lopez. There have been no demands, no contact, nothing.”
Fuck.
Demands rarely came that quickly. He was more concerned about where they were headed. Mosul might be under Kurdish control again, but it was by no means safe. Private security companies made a fortune offering personal protection.
“Wait.” Riley frowned and leaned forward. A woman who looked like that, with a powerful job, she’d rate pretty high on a company’s list of important people. They were paying their team to bring her back after all. “Don’t most of these companies have bodyguards for their people over there?”
“Yes. Ms. Lopez’s personal security was on-site, but not with her at the time of the attack. NexGen wants us to rendezvous with the bodyguard to assist us,” Grant replied.
“They didn’t fire his ass?” Riley asked. In their shoes, if he were head of security, that man would have been out of a job.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Grant said.
“What about her history there? With the company, I mean.” Nolan, their Communications Officer, leaned forward and clasped his hands. “She looks familiar...”
Grant gestured to the picture. “If you were ever deployed to Iraq, you might have seen her—”
“Officially, she’s a valuable employee the company wants to get back as quickly as possible.” Melody stepped forward, the projector light falling across her face. “The situation is more complicated than that. We’ve already received a call from Americans on the ground in Kurdistan to say they know we’re coming and they’re ready for us.” Melody glanced at Grant, who still looked like he’d sucked a lemon.
“No one wants to see an incursion in Kurdish Iraq,” Grant said. “Unlike the rest of the country, the Kurdistan region hasn’t seen a terrorist attack in years. Obviously, everyone wants this situation resolved as quickly and quietly as possible, so they can focus their efforts on rebuilding Mosul.”
“A couple more things about our VIP asset.” Melody glanced at Grant. “According to some digging Zain did, Ms. Lopez has caused a few waves at NexGen that possibly impact why her bodyguard wasn’t fired immediately. She was directly responsible for NexGen cancelling their contract with Allied Security due to some infractions with locals.”
“Are we thinking this is related?” Riley glanced around the table. A woman with a smile like that and a spine of steel was the kind of person who needed rescuing.
“Maybe?” Melody was studiously not looking at Grant. There was something serious going on between those two that was awkward to observe. “Local security forwarded us a video of the attack, which I think everyone should see.”
“Video?” Grant glared across the table at Melody.
“Give me one moment, please...” She tapped at her phone. “Of note, Ms. Lopez is the daughter of an Iraq immigrant and a Miami local. She enlisted in the army a year after she graduated high school and was one of the most valuable translators, interpreters, social navigators, she worked with troops on cultural awareness... You get the point. Like Grant said, if you were deployed in this region, chances are you’ve seen her or benefitted from her work. She went straight into working for NexGen after that and continues to work in border areas where the risk is greater.”
Riley glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the team. Surely they had to be on the same page? A woman like that? They had to bring her home safe.
Brenden, their tactical expert, didn’t so much as blink. The guy might as well be a statue, but that was typical.
Nolan, their communications officer, shook his head, and if Riley wasn’t mistaken, that was the sound of Nolan’s molars grinding.
Vaughn, their surveillance specialist, caught Riley’s eye and shook his head.
It wasn’t just him, then. Something about this job stank.
Good.
“Here we go.” Melody glanced from her phone to the screen.
“Security reported the group didn’t make it far into the building,” Grant said.
Riley sat up.
Melody had been upset, bothered even, by this job. Was it the video? Was this the source of her apprehension?
Unlike most security video, this was in color. The recording began, showing a woman he assumed was Ms. Lopez standing in the bottom left corner of the frame. She had what looked like a tablet in hand and was speaking with two men. Based on their Dockers and button-down shirts, he’d guess some sort of management. A flash of light shone through the window of a door on the upper right-hand side of the screen a moment before the door blew in, bouncing off one wall and then the other before it came to rest in the middle of the hall. The blast knocked the two men off their feet while Ms. Lopez crumpled to the ground, her arms over her head, body in a tight ball. Her tablet skidded away out of view.
Riley winced. That fall, combined with the concussion blast and not to mention any debris they didn’t see, would have hurt.
Three men in traditional thawb garments with their faces covered ran in through the new hole. Two went straight for Ms. Lopez. One of Ms. Lopez’s coworkers even kicked at the attacker, but they were ignored.
Riley clenched his hands. She had training. If she got out of their grip, she could get away.
The men hauled Ms. Lopez to her feet. She swayed for a moment before she got her feet under her. She moved like lightning, wrenching her arm away and delivering
