Liberty Station – Chapter One

Harry Rogers watched the target’s house through his night vision scope. A guard patrolled the roof of the Italian villa slowly, with no idea that someone had him dead in his sights. Satisfied the guard wasn’t going anywhere, Harry clicked his transmitter once to let his team know he was ready. A pair of clicks on the encrypted frequency acknowledged his signal.

The other members of his team were already in place. All they needed to move this mission from recon to assault was for him to give the word.

He scanned the rooftop once more and spotted a second guard near the rear of the house. That one was smoking. Didn’t he know that was bad for his health?

Harry clicked his transmitter three times. Then he took a deep breath, lined up on the furthest man, and fired. The target stood just over two hundred feet away from the tree Harry had chosen for his nest. That range was a snap with a sniper rifle, but chancy with a tranquillizer dart. Good thing he’d practiced.

The man made a small cry, scrabbled at the dart embedded in his back, and collapsed. The closer man turned toward the commotion, giving Harry a clear shot at his unprotected rear. He went down just as easily as his friend had.

His people checked in once they’d neutralized the two guards at the back of the property, the two in front, and the man in the gatehouse. Time to move the operation to phase two.

Harry climbed down the Italian stone pine as noiselessly as he’d ascended. Tree climbing spikes made the ascent easy.

The tall trees at the edge of the yard made for dark shadows this early in the morning. He enjoyed their scent as he made his way toward the clearing. A hint of the sea mingled with the trees. He really needed to take some time off to unwind.

He crossed the clearing below the imposing mansion and up to the back of the villa just as his people were securing the unconscious prisoners. The next set of guards would find them just before dawn and the manhunt would be on. The clock was ticking.

Less than a minute later, the rest of his people ghosted in out of the dark. They were almost invisible in their grey on black camouflage. Their night vision goggles made them look like monsters to the uninitiated.

If this had been a hard entry, they’d have blown the doors and come in firing. He and his people had more experience at that than any seven people should have. War did that to people.

Thankfully, this was a snatch and run. They’d only kill if they had to. These guards were only doing their job. They didn’t deserve to die for their master’s poor decisions.

That wasn’t always the case. Some opponents deserved lethal force.

The interior guards on this mission expected their exterior compatriots to warn them of any intrusion. Hopefully, his people would take them out before they realized their error.

Jeremy Gonzales, his security expert, had the doors open in just a few seconds. The target hadn’t activated the electronic alarm. Of course not. He had armed guards. Harry and his team raised their night vision gear as they came into the lighted interior.

The staff lived on site, but in a different building. At three in the morning, they wouldn’t be up for a few more hours. All Harry needed to worry about were the two guards in the building. IR had one of them in the kitchen—probably snacking, another bad habit—while the other was up on the second floor.

The team split without a word. Two of them moved toward the kitchen, two of them went toward the front of the house, and he led the remaining pair up the stairs.

The interior of the villa was every bit as lavish as he’d expected. Fine antique furniture filled the side rooms and expensive looking art filled the niches. The thick carpeting deadened even their careful steps as they went up to the next level.

A tiny fiber optic wire around the corner showed the upstairs guard examining one of the paintings near the far end of the hall. The man had a magnifying glass. He must be an art lover.

Harry leaned out into the hall and shot him in the ass with a dart. That was going to be tough for him when his friends teased him later.

That’s where the plan went off script. This guard managed to bring his weapon around and squeeze the trigger before he collapsed.

Harry ducked back as the automatic weapon ripped through the silence and disintegrated the corner beside him. The man only got off one burst, but that was enough to ruin the element of surprise. Hopefully it wouldn’t be loud enough to wake the staff.

“Blow the power and communications,” he said over the team channel as he surged around the corner. He flipped his night vision gear down just as the lights went out. They’d cut the landline and a cell jammer would keep anyone from calling for help.

He raced to the end of the hall and kicked the door open. There were two people in the room, a very fat man digging in the nightstand and a shrieking woman in the bed with the sheet pulled up to her chin.

Harry darted the man and watched him crumple with a sense of satisfaction. A second shot took out the unknown woman. She’d wake up in the morning with a headache and damaged pride.

There hadn’t been any shots from below, so his people had neutralized the man in the kitchen. Clean sweep.

He made a pass through the bedroom and attached office, just to be certain that no one was hiding there. The master bedroom could’ve come from a palace. The NVG didn’t allow him to see color, but the furnishings here looked even more refined than the ones downstairs. They had to be hundreds of years old.

The office wasn’t just for show. It looked as though the man used it extensively. The large desk had a messy spread of papers and data chips. Expensive paintings covered the walls and a few cases held knick-knacks. Mostly Egyptian stuff, Harry thought.

A spread of old looking parchment pages under glass took up one wall. The illustrations of plants and people looked medieval. The flora had to be a monk’s flight of fancy. He was sure some of them weren’t real.

Satisfied that they hadn’t missed anyone, Harry headed back to the hall. It was time to collect the client and withdraw. He stopped outside the door closest to the master bedroom and knocked.

“Emily Schultz, your mother sent us. It’s safe to come out. She said to tell you that she’d take you out with your friends Hannah and Cheryl as soon as you get back to the States. I believe cinnamon swirl ice cream is on the menu.”

The door opened a moment later, revealing a young girl with dark hair dressed in a nightgown. Ten year-old Emily Schultz, the kidnapped girl. Her scumbag father had thought his money and influence could keep her American mother from enforcing the custodial agreement that the U.S. courts had ordered. Not this time.

“Am I really going home?” she asked. Her voice was timid and soft.

“Yes,” Harry said in a serious voice. “Dress fast. We only have a few minutes. Only take the important stuff. One bag.”

One of the two women on his team ducked inside with the client. Two minutes later, they exited the way they’d snuck in. They piled into a plumbing van and left the scene at a sedate pace.

No need to draw attention. If you acted as though you belonged, the man on the street seldom questioned your right to be there. In the case of service people, they rarely even remembered what you looked like.

The trip to the coast went off without a hitch. No word of their invasion had made it out of the house, so no one had raised the alarm. Harry looked at his watch as they hustled the girl from the van to their borrowed boat. They still had maybe an hour before someone found all the unconscious people.

Unless they had completely crappy luck, they’d be back on the ship and into international waters before the search even moved beyond the general area around the villa. The man driving the boat would take them to their ship, return to shore, and get the plumbing van back to his shop before anyone got excited. He’d get a very large bonus for his part in the operation.

Harry didn’t relax until they were several hundred miles in the clear. The news was all over the airwaves by then. Girl from rich family kidnapped, police looking everywhere for the villains. Good luck with that.

Only then did he turn on his satellite phone and call the girl’s mother. She hadn’t known when the snatch would take place, so she had to have been anxious for the last week. It was almost three in the morning on the East Coast.

“Hello?” Harry could hear mixed notes of fear and hope in the woman’s voice.

“Miss Schultz? Harry Rogers. We have Emily and we’re safely away.”

“Oh, thank God!” He could hear the anguished relief in the woman’s voice. “Can I talk to her? Is she okay?”

“She’s perfectly fine. Here you go.” He handed the phone to the little girl and stepped back to let them have their reunion.

Once they finished their long and tearful conversation, he took his phone back. The woman was still crying. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure. We’ll have her back to you tomorrow evening. Try to get some rest.”

He hung up with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that the woman wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink. Another family reunited. Those were the best jobs.

That’s when he noticed he had a voicemail from an all-too-familiar number. His father. Great. That man could ruin a wet dream.

Harry stepped onto the deck and looked out over the waves. The smell of the sea calmed him. It reminded him of a less complicated time when his family had taken long trips on the ocean. He must’ve been two or three. They’d hardly been a model family, but at least they’d been together.

He could ignore the message, but his father was resourceful and determined. One didn’t build one of the most powerful companies on the planet by rolling over at the first setback. He’d get more and more irritating if Harry didn’t call him back.

He sighed and listened to the message. His father’s deep voice came out of the speaker.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you while you’re at work, Harry. I hope you’re enjoying the med. It’s wonderful this time of year.”

How had the man known where he was?

“Anyway, something has come up. I know that we don’t have the greatest relationship, but an innocent woman is in grave danger. I’m willing to pay triple your usual rate, and you can attach a substantial surcharge for working for me. Please call me back as soon as you get this message.”

The fees Liberty SOG—Special Operations Group—charged for the simplest operations were substantial. Private military groups took a lot of money to keep in specialized gear and weapons. And Harry paid his people very well indeed. They deserved every penny.

The amount of money his father was talking about was…substantial. Enough to tempt Harry, even against his better judgment.

He sighed. Might as well get this over with. He dialed the number, smiling a little at the time. At least he got to wake the bastard up at an inconsiderate hour.

* * * * *

The phone beside the bed jarred Clayton Rogers from a sound sleep. Only a select few had his private number, or the code to make it ring through, so he knew it was his son before he checked the Caller ID.

He noted the hour with resigned amusement and answered the call. “Harry, it’s good of you to get back to me so promptly. I hope your work bore fruit. Kidnapping children is a nasty business.”

“And you know more than your share about nasty businesses, don’t you?” his son said coolly. “Let’s cut the pleasantries short. I’m not inclined to take your money. I know how you earned it.”

His son’s antipathy was no surprise. He really couldn’t blame the boy. Clayton was honest enough to see his own failures. The things he’d done to climb to the top of his business were sickening, despicable, and occasionally horrific. And quite necessary. Something his son had never been able to understand.

Business in 2035 had very little in common with what it had been even two decades earlier. The largest international corporations were almost governments in their own right. Cutthroat didn’t begin to describe some of the things they did to one another.

Rainforest—his company—was no exception. He’d like to believe that his behavior was less ugly than most of his compatriots, but that was only rationalizing. He did what he had to. The project was too important to fail.

“I strongly urge you to reconsider. If you walk away, it’s likely that dozens of innocent people will disappear into hidden graves. Most of them are in no way associated with my business interests. These are the kind of people you help every day. On that I give you my word.”

The long silence made him wonder if his word was no longer good enough. That day would eventually come.

“When the bill arrives, you’ll pay it without a peep,” Harry said. “Who are these people, where are they, and what pickle have they gotten themselves into?”

Clayton let out his breath slowly. He’d made it past the most difficult hurdle. Whatever Harry charged would be worth every cent and more. “They are a team of archaeologists excavating a Mayan ruin deep in the jungles of Guatemala. Communications there are quite spotty. For their own safety, they need to be brought out.”

He could hear the surprise in his son’s voice. “Archaeologists? Why in the world would people like that be on your payroll? You own the world’s largest online store. Is Rainforest selling priceless relics now?”

“Only one of the people is associated with me. The rest are innocent bystanders.”

“Who is this person and what do they do for you?”

“Her name is Jessica Cook. She’s an engineer with specialties in space construction.”

That silenced his son for a moment. “What is she doing at an archaeological dig in Guatemala?”

“I’m not precisely certain,” Clayton admitted. “The man in charge of the site—a friend of hers—asked her to come look at something. Her office is at the Yucatan Spaceport, so it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience, I suppose.

“I found out after she departed that your mother has taken an unhealthy interest in her. One of my spies in Kathleen’s organization tells me that your mother has dispatched Nathan to collect her. And to make certain there are no unfortunate questions asked later.”

His ex-wife was always on the lookout for chances to harm him or those around him. With cause, he admitted. Their marriage of convenience had become most inconvenient when he terminated it.

Scratch the CEO of any global corporation and you’ll most likely find a high functioning sociopath. The ability to look past the harm people suffered during the course of making a company succeed was a prerequisite to doing business on that scale.

Kathleen Bennett had led her own company when he married her. One that had been in her family for generations. It had made up half of Rainforest when they merged. And he’d stripped it from her via a hostile takeover when they divorced.

The generous payout had done nothing to quench her burning rage at his outright theft of her family’s company. Instead, it had given her the tools to wage war against him.

She’d started a new company, but something had broken inside her. She’d become a psychopath determined to hurt him in any way possible, no matter the cost, laws broken, or who she hurt doing so. She’s become the poster girl for the apocryphal corporate monster.

And an almost cartoonish enemy. It wouldn’t be unreasonable for most people to imagine Kathleen sat around rubbing her hands together while cackling madly and muttering “revenge!” to herself.

One day her insensible rage would bring her down. She’d do something so heinous that even her wealth couldn’t save her. And he had to admit that she’d recovered her fortune quite well. She was worth almost as much as he was these days. Perhaps more.

The cruelest irony had been finding out she’d been pregnant with their second child after the split. He’d managed to gain sole custody of Harry, but she’d hung on to Nathan. He was almost as bad as she was now.

Harry and Nathan had clashed before, so his younger brother’s involvement was actually a plus for Clayton. Nathan was one of Harry’s buttons.

“Why didn’t you say that up front?” Harry demanded. “That would’ve made this conversation go much more smoothly. As much as I despise you, those two are a completely different level of bad news.

“I’ll need all the information you can give me about Jessica Cook, her friends, and the site. A secure upload to the Liberty SOG servers would be the simplest solution. I’ll email you a link and a public encryption key. I have a child that I need to deliver. That will complicate the timing.”

Clayton had planned around that contingency. “I have a ship in your general area. I can take the child off your hands and assure a safe and speedy delivery. It’s something Rainforest prides itself on. Time is of the essence in this matter. Your brother is already on his way.”

“Fine, but I hold you personally responsible. If the girl doesn’t make it home safely, I’ll come for that visit you’ve been pestering me about, but you won’t enjoy it. Look for the email.”

The call ended abruptly. Clayton returned the phone to its cradle and rubbed his face tiredly. Days like this made him wonder if his schemes were worth the pain they caused.

The only positive aspect to this situation was that he now had a way to bring his son into the plan. Only stage one, but possibly enough to whet Harry’s appetite to learn more.

His son didn’t know it, but Clayton had always intended to bring him in on his grand undertaking. In fact, his boy was a critical component of its eventual success. Even if he had to keep lying to his son until he’d ensnared him too deeply to extract himself.

Clayton glanced at the clock on his nightstand and rose. He had a lot of work to do if he wanted to salvage his undertaking and stymie his ex-wife.

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