Mark (In the Company of Snipers Book 2) (23 page)

“How about you?” Castor asked. “You got a good man now, someone who treats you right?”

“I do.” She nodded to confirm her words. “I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s taught me what real happiness is about.”

“You love him?”

Castor’s question surprised Mark. It sounded like he cared.

“I do. With all my heart, Mike. He’s my reason for living.”

Alex glanced at Mark again, his eyes bright with emotion. “This is not what I expected when she asked to talk to him.”

“But he’s talking,” Mark said. “She’s doing better in there than we did.”

Alex shook his head. “Yeah, but two more minutes, and—”

Right on cue, Kelsey opened the folder in her hand. She slid an eight-by-ten photo of Libby across the table, one that Murphy had taken during the picnic. It showed Libby snuggled under Mark’s arm, smiling with a look of total adoration in her eyes.

Castor glanced at the photo, and then at Kelsey, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Yeah. I seen her. That’s the gal I grabbed at the airport.”

“Her name is Libby Clifton, Mike. I talked with her mom.” Kelsey brushed a tear off her cheek. “Rosemary’s scared that she might never see her little girl again.”

Castor bowed his head.

“Libby likes hummingbirds and cardinals. She’s a competitive swimmer, and she’s in love with—”

“That guy, that Mark Houston guy.” Castor remembered. “Right?”

Mark stood at the window again, his heart in his throat.

“What did she do to you?” Kelsey asked.

“Nothing. Yuri pointed her out and ....” He shoved the photo back across the table. “Look lady, this wasn’t personal.”

She rubbed the scar over her brow. “It was personal to me.”

Mark blew out a deep breath right along with Castor. “Please tell Kelsey where Libby is,” he whispered. “Be the man she thinks you are. Please.”

Castor scratched his ear, tugging on his earlobe and then his chin like he needed to deliberate. “I want to help you. I really do, but I can’t.”

She leaned toward him. “But you’re the only one who knows where Libby is, and she’s just a little girl. She won’t last much longer in this cold. I don’t think she even has a coat.”

“She had a light blue sweater,” he said quietly. “Least, she did the last time I saw her.”

When Kelsey didn’t respond, he looked around the room, his eyes darting back to her as he bit his lower lip. He leaned toward her. “Really, I want to help you. I do, but it’s not that easy. They’ll kill me the minute I walk out of here.”

“They won’t kill you, Mike. I’m sure—”

“No, not your folks. I’m not worried about them.”

“Is it your friend then, the one they call Yuri?”

“He’s not my friend,” Castor snapped, his eyes suddenly hard. “He’s a cold-blooded killer. Did you see what he did to those folks in West Virginia? And that little boy? Every time I close my eyes, I see that poor little boy with his throat cut, and—”

Kelsey gasped. She blanched white, and Mark glanced sideway at his boss. Apparently, Alex hadn’t told his wife about the gruesome details of what happened in West Virginia.

Alex was already out the door. Mark followed. When they burst into the interrogation room, Castor had hold of Kelsey’s hand. They both looked up in surprise.

“We’re still talking,” she said simply, not moving her hand.

Alex shook his head. “No. You’re done.”

“But Alex—”

“He’s your husband?” Castor gasped. “He’s the guy you live for?”

Kelsey nodded, her eyes bright with tears. “He is.”

“Enough,” Alex ordered. “Let her go. Now.”

Castor looked to Kelsey, several emotions playing across his face as he held onto her fingers. Mark noticed she squeezed his fingers, too, but he also saw the different look in Castor’s eyes. He wasn’t scared anymore. He’d changed into a drowning man holding onto a lifeline that he couldn’t bring himself to let go of. Not yet.

“Let her go, Mike.” Alex sat at the opposite end of the table, his voice restrained. “What if I made Seinkevitz go away?”

“You would’ve saved that little boy, wouldn’t you?” Kelsey asked at the same time, leaning toward Castor again.

He chose to answer her instead of Alex. “Yes, ma’am. I would never hurt anyone, not like that. Jose and me were stupid, but we weren’t killers. We only wanted to get rich. That’s all.”

He glanced at Alex and, just like that, he let Kelsey go and pushed away from the table as far as the chains allowed. The nervousness was gone.

“Honest. I never thought they’d hurt that family like they did. Yuri’s a cold-blooded psychopath. He even laughed when he did it.”

“And that’s why I’m talking with you,” Alex said grimly.

“Yes, sir.” Castor bowed his head and sucked in a deep breath. “But I can’t help you. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

Mark reached for Kelsey’s chair as she stood. Grasping her elbow, he meant to escort her out, but just as they reached the door, she turned to the prisoner one last time.

“Mike?”

He looked up in surprise.

“Would it be okay if I wrote to you while you’re in prison?”

His eyes glistened. “Yes, ma’am. That would mean a lot.”

For the first time, Mark felt sorry for him. Yeah, Kelsey might actually write to him, but other than that, the man had nothing to look forward to.

I have to be dreaming.

A summer raft floated just beyond her reach.

Jonathan and Mark stood waving to her like silly boys, both so handsome it was hard to know which to swim to. The water splashed over her eyes, blurring their faces. Straight and true, she pushed against the waves. Each stroke became a decision. Mark or Jonathan? Jonathan or Mark? The element of nature that she loved so much spoke to her now, each lapping wave a whisper to,
‘Think of Mark. Think of Mark.’

She reached the raft. A strong hand reached for her. It was Mark who pulled her up and out of the lake with a single move. Jonathan was gone. Warmth flooded her soul.

‘My home. My car. And my heart.’

She woke. There was no Mark. No raft. Only stone cold dark. Her resolve crumbled.

“Help me, somebody help me!” She scratched the concrete barrier and screamed, “I’m in here! Mark! Get me out! Somebody help me!”

Claustrophobia suffocated her. The walls closed in. Panic ruled.

“Help me. I don’t wanna die in here. I’m scared, and I don’t wanna die.” Tears ran into her hair and down her neck. “Mama!”

As quick as the panic attack stormed over her, it was gone. Like a deflated balloon, Libby lay limp and exhausted by the useless waste of energy, all hope sucked out of her.

As her awful reality settled itself alongside her in the coffin, she felt sad and sorry for her father, her mother, and both of her sisters. Most of all she felt sorry for herself, shut up in the deep dark wherever she was. She’d never be a nurse, a wife, or a mother. Neither would there be a marriage, a wedding night, or a honeymoon. For sure, there’d never be a birth. No babies would call her Mama. No husband would make love to her and call her darling, sweetheart, or dear.

She tried to lick her parched lips. Even saliva had deserted her.

All there was—was nothing. All there would ever be—was death. Her death. She would die in this box. Her future held only a hollowed shell of skin and bones, no life within, and no life without. All she’d ever be was a shriveled, mummified corpse. Like the sick, scared girl she was, she cried.

It was the saddest sound she had ever heard.

For the first time, Mark dared to hope.

“What if I could take that Russian bastard out of the picture?” Alex got right to the point.

“What do you mean?” Castor asked wearily. “He’s in Afghanistan. You’re here.”

“I mean eliminate him. That deal’s still on the table. You help me. I’ll help you.”

Mark shot Alex a glance. He intended to use that equalizer Mark and Harley had left inside the Russian’s compound. Hell, yeah.

“You don’t know what you’re asking me to do.”

“I’m asking you to be half the man my wife thinks you are.”

“Then what?”

“Then you’ll go to trial, most likely to jail for the rest of your life, but I’ve got some influence. I can promise protection for whatever time you’ll serve.” Alex signaled Mark.

He hurried to retrieve a portable television. This guy was cracking. He could feel it.

“Can you see that okay?” Mark asked when he positioned the TV at the end of the table.

Castor looked up at him, suspicion still in his eyes. “Yeah, sure. What’s going on?”

Mark dialed his friend in Afghanistan. Late night in Wisconsin meant early morning there.
Come on, Harley. Answer the phone.

“Morning.” Harley’s cheerful voice instantly calmed Mark. He breathed a sigh of relief. His buddy was about to make a big impression.

“Good to hear you, Harley. Can you send me the feed to camera five?”

“You bet.”

Mark listened to shuffling as his request was attended to. The screen flickered to life with input from camera five, showing an ornate building on the outskirts of Arzad’s little village. The upper balcony door opened. Boris stepped out, a phone to his ear and that arrogant sneer on his ugly face. Mark steeled his nerves as the camera Harley had placed high in the tree shifted to a close-up view.

He saw it then. Mukhtar flashed to his mind.

“You receiving?” Harley asked.

“Clear as a bell. Tell me something though. Have you ever seen any of his men with a scabbard?”

“Nope,” Harley answered quickly. “Your buddy is the only one. There’s a Japanese Samurai Katana sword inside of it, a forty-one inch full tang blade. He keeps it battle ready. I’ve been watching him. The joker practices every night on his balcony like he’s some kind of a martial arts expert.”

“I’ll bet that blade makes quite the surgical cut, don’t you think?”

“You bet,” Harley agreed. “You might say a man could lose his head over it.”

“Or his fingers,” Mark muttered, his throat dry at what Jose and Mukhtar had suffered. “Hold on.”

“Copy that.”

“That’s him,” Castor whispered in disbelief.

“Seinkevitz?” Alex switched his speakerphone on. “Or should I call you Rod Kensington?”

Mark’s jaw dropped.
Alex knows this guy?

The bearded man on the balcony looked around as if he might see someone lurking in the shadows. He dropped the heavy Russian accent. “Where you at Stewart? Show yourself.”

“This explains a helluva lot,” Alex answered calmly. “None of this has been about the opium at all, has it?”

“You always were quick on the uptake.” Kensington leaned against the wrought iron railing, his voice casual like he was talking about Monday night football. “I gotta be honest. It was about the drugs until I heard you and that piece of crap business of yours were involved. Then it was just for the fun of watching you jump through your ass.”

“You killed a mother and her children for fun.”

Kensington shrugged. “Mostly. Yeah. You gotta admit. I’ve kept you busy.”

“Then you abducted an innocent young woman and buried her alive,” Alex hissed. “You’re a twisted bastard.”

“You don’t know a thing about me. Never did.” Kensington glanced around his compound like he still expected Alex to stroll out from behind his garage.

“I know you recruited your army in Leningrad.”

“All that means is you still got Mother working for you. She’s the only one who could’ve found me. Is Mortimer still working for you, too? He still snorting that crap up his nose?”

“Mother’s good, but Harley’s better.”

Mark smiled. So that was what Mother was telling Alex during that conversation in the hallway. That must’ve been when Alex found out who Boris really was – this Kensington guy. Well good, because in a few minutes, Harley was going to be damn great. If Kensington only knew.

“You’ve gone too far, Rod.”

The wanna-be Russian grunted. “What? That little girl I got stashed mean something to you?”

Mark stiffened, but Alex ignored the question. “How many more men are you sending to finish your dirty work?”

“Yeah, right. Like I’d blow my game plan.” Kensington squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Thought you were smarter than that.”

“You’re still using, aren’t you?”

“You see, now that’s the best part about not working for you.” He looked around again. “I don’t hafta worry about your dumb-assed rules. Hell. I made my own. You wanna know what my first rule is? Huh? Do you? Well, I’ll tell you. I do as I damn well please.” Kensington stiffened at his railing as he ranted. “You got eyes on me. Do I look like I need anything? I don’t think so. I’m living the dream, but you? You’re still trying to get that stinking covert op piece of crap business off the ground, ain’t you?”

“You haven’t changed at all.”

“Why should I? There’s better things than living in the good old U. S. of A. You ought to get out of the country once in awhile. Live a little.”

Mark watched Alex’s demeanor change. The calm was gone.

“You killed innocent people. If I could’ve found you then, I’d have shot you myself.”

Kensington kicked his railing. “They were nothing but a bunch of rag heads. There’s plenty more where they came from. You oughta know that. How’s that cute little Najela chic? You think I don’t know about her? I got news for you. She oughta be close to marrying age, ain’t she? At least she’s old enough to—”

“Rod.” Alex’s voice turned lethal. “Leave her out of this.”

“What you gonna do, fire me again?” Kensington stabbed his finger toward the west as if Alex stood there. “You oughta know better than to make threats you can’t keep, old man. You just wait. My guys are coming for you. You’re next. You hear me?”

Alex nodded somberly to Mark and hung up his phone. “Finish it.”

The video turned into a silent movie. Kensington ranted into dead air.

Once more, Mark put the phone to his ear. “Are we clear to strike?”

“Waiting on you,” Harley answered. “Just so you know, the staff cleared out the day they saw those footprints you planted. Good call, Houston. I didn’t know these folks believed in giants.”

Mark closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer.
I’m coming Libby. Hold on, honey. Please hold on.

“Make it rain,” he whispered. “Send that bastard back to hell.”

“Copy that,” Harley confirmed. “One bastard and his minions going down.”

Mark tilted the TV stand so Castor had optimum viewing. The Russian had tossed his phone into the open door behind him, still looking for the hidden cameras. Suddenly, the screen filled with static until, little by little, an image emerged through billowing dust and smoke. This one was not from camera five though. It had to be camera twenty-one, the lucky camera a half-mile away from what used to be an evil man’s lair. Mark held his breath while Harley provided a close up view. Nothing remained. No barracks. No turret. No Seinkevitz.

“What the-?” Castor sat glued to the screen, speechless.

Mark held his breath. The world had stopped turning on its axis. Everyone waited for Michael Castor.

He blew out a long sigh before he glanced at Alex and then the double-sided window. “Sir, may I, umm, talk with your wife?”

Alex shook his head. “No. She’s had enough for one day.”

“But.” His whispered voice caught. “She believed in me. Please.”

Alex hesitated, then motioned Mark.

He found her watching in the observation room, her eyes full of tears. If she had ever doubted what The TEAM stood for, she didn’t anymore. She had just witnessed her husband order the death of a man.

“Mark.” She reached for his hand.

“Yes, ma’am.” He swallowed past the guilt stuck in his throat. Neither he nor his boss deserved these precious women who loved them.

“I’m going with you to get Libby.”

Mark couldn’t get to his car fast enough. Alex bee-lined to their other vehicle with Kelsey on his arm and his cell phone to his ear. They knew exactly where they were going. And why.

Mike Castor and Jose Gutierrez didn’t just smuggle opium for Seinkevitz; they had cheated him. Castor skimmed a little off each shipment before he made the drop to a derelict building in downtown Dover, Delaware. He never saw who picked it up, so he was not able to close that end of the smuggling ring.

When he and Jose figured they’d gotten enough opium set aside, they’d planned to disappear. Castor thought he could live undetected in Baja for the rest of his life. Gutierrez had his eye on a vineyard in the south of France. Like crooks the world over, they planned to live the high life. Also like men foolish enough to believe they could get off scot-free, neither of them realized how psychotic Kensington was. In the end, he gave them just enough rope to hang themselves. Then he did it for them.

Once Kensington found out Alex and his team were involved, the game changed. Murdering the family in West Virginia was only a sadistic ploy to draw Alex in. Once The TEAM was involved, Kensington knew Alex would never quit. It all came down to revenge for something that had happened years ago.

Mark didn’t have all the answers. Apparently, there was bad blood between Alex and this Rod Kensington guy. Mark only knew that once Castor had Libby, Yuri forced him to pull over into a wayside, the Wisconsin version of a rest stop. The wayside was barricaded and closed for repair. Stacks of rectangular concrete planters had been stockpiled for a beautification project. Since no work crew was on-site, Yuri had simply dropped his unconscious victim into one of the planters, and covered her with another, using the front-end loader on site. It was convenient, quick, and a tremendous bit of luck—for the Russians.