Triple Team: A Military Reverse Harem Romance, page 14
Sometimes it was tough to forget that I wasn’t the only person in the world to lose someone.
The garage door opened ahead of us and Gregor pulled right in. He jumped off the bike then lifted me by the waist off the seat like I weighed nothing. He ripped off his helmet and dropped it to the floor carelessly as he ran inside.
“Ciudad Bolívar!” he shouted as I followed him up the stairs. “We were looking in the wrong country!”
Donovan must have been sleeping with his head on the kitchen table because when I got to the top of the stairs he was blinking and looking around in alarm. The blond hair on the left side of his head stuck out comically. “What? I’m awake. What’s happening?”
Gregor bent over his laptop and typed on the keys. “We couldn’t find the right Colombian city starting with CB because it’s not a Colombian city. It’s in Venezuela.” He turned the laptop toward Donovan. “Ciudad Bolívar.”
Donovan rubbed at his eyes. “It’s on the Orinoco River. Which flows all the way from the west…”
“All the fucking way to Colombia!” Gregor finished. “Damn close to Villavicencio, the city where JGB was last spotted.”
Michael came jogging down the stairs. “Our initial intelligence suspected JGB of utilizing rivers to transport product and money. They move the drugs downriver, sell them to distributors, then transfer the money to Bezos Accola’s accounts.”
Donovan was nodding more confidently. “It fits perfectly. There aren’t any other deposits around this. And judging by the distance, the routine deposit timing makes sense…”
Gregor clapped his hands together and whirled to face me. “Hope you were serious about not being jet-lagged. Tomorrow we’re flying to Venezuela.”
*
None of the guys were good at cooking, apparently. Neither was I beyond basic frozen meals I could heat in a skillet. So while we ran around making preparations for the next phase of the plan we ordered take-out from a Mexican restaurant called Nacho Mama.
We cleared away the laptops and equipment from the table and sat down to eat when the food arrived. The international travel had left me famished even though I ate a meal on th return trip. It was probably all the excitement from the last 24 hours. Getting out of Zurich with Accola’s data. Nearly sleeping with Michael in the heat of the moment afterward. Visiting the shooting range with Gregor. I wasn’t used to so much adrenaline.
The three-enchilada combo was more food than I normally could have eaten, but it was the right amount tonight. All four of us were quiet as we dug in around the table like soldiers eating for fuel rather than pleasure.
“Okay,” I said when I was down to just my beans and rice. “What’s the plan for Venezuela?”
“It’ll be you and me, kiddo,” Gregor said. “We figure my experience with explosives will come in handy.”
I had no idea what explosives we would come across while we were there, but I was more curious about other aspects of the trip. “And my role? Are we breaking into more computers down there?”
“As a matter of fact, you will be,” Donovan said. “Once we knew the city, we were able to use contextual clues from the account numbers to narrow down which bank in Ciudad Bolívar is accepting the deposits. We also know the general time. But we don’t know who the delivery man is.”
“Can’t we stake out the bank? See who goes in?”
“That is not definitive,” Michael said. His grey eyes were as cold as steel. “It could be anyone. We would have no way of knowing who specifically made the transfer.”
“That’s why you’re coming along,” Gregor continued. He waved a tortilla chip in the air. “To break into the bank’s network so we can monitor the transactions in real time. We already know Accola’s delivery account. As soon as we see a transfer initiated to that account, we know we have our guy.”
“I still don’t quite understand. Can’t we monitor that transaction remotely? Do I really need to be on the ground in Venezuela?”
“Getting cold feet, huh?” Gregor said.
“No…”
“It is perfectly natural to be nervous,” Michael added.
“You guys are being unfair to her,” Donovan said. Then a smile touched his lips. “Maybe she’s just racist against South Americans.”
I rolled my eyes as they laughed. “I don’t mind going. I’m just making sure we’re being as efficient as possible.”
“Venezuela ain’t exactly carefree when it comes to individual financial freedom,” Gregor said. “All international transactions remain pending at the local bank for three days while the government is notified. That way they can halt the transfer if they want. So we’ve got to be connected to the local bank branch to see the pending transaction.”
I nodded. “Fair enough. Just wanted to be certain. Let’s say we find the guy making the deposits. Then what?”
Gregor made a fist and punched it into his palm. “Then we extract information from him the old-fashioned way. Who his superior is, what the shipping routes are.”
“And then follow it back to JGB?”
“If we’re lucky,” Donovan muttered.
Michael nodded solemnly. “It may just lead us to another of JGB’s lieutenants. Or an underling with no power or information.”
“We’ll worry about that if we come to it,” Gregor said. “Sometimes a frog has to bump its ass a few times before getting across the river.”
“Eloquently put,” I said.
He grinned. “I’m a regular Mark Twain.”
“Michael and I are remaining behind to track down the other transactions,” Donovan said. “Ciudad Bolívar might be a dead end, so we’ll want some backup options just in case.”
“We will also be making arrangements in case you do learn of JGB’s location,” Michael added. “Once we have that information, we need to be ready to move quickly.”
I sipped my beer. They had things planned out thoroughly, it seemed. “We got flights booked yet?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Donovan said, tossing a passport across the table. “Got a new identity all ready to go.”
I opened it and groaned. “Another Jessica?”
“Is there a problem with the name Jessica Menendez?”
“Every Jessica I’ve ever known was a bitch. It’s fine.” I turned to Gregor. “Are we husband and wife for the trip? Because it would be nice to know that ahead of time instead of the moment we’re walking into the bank.”
Michael grimaced and gave me an apologetic look.
“We’re just friends, kiddo. We’ve got tourist visas, so they shouldn’t give us too hard of a time. Venezuela’s hurting for tourism revenue right now.”
I put the passport in my pocket. It seemed like a simple plan. It was certainly less dangerous than sneaking into a Swiss banker’s bedroom to hack into his computer, and we wouldn’t have to pretend to be nice to any bad guys. Hopefully the execution was as straightforward as it looked on paper.
Gregor looked at Donovan and jerked his head. Donovan gave him a look. They were having a silent argument.
“What are you two doing?” I asked.
“We want to talk to you about something,” Gregor said, fixing his teammate with a stare. Donovan sighed.
“It’s about our… situation. With you.”
Alarm hit me like a lightning bolt. “What’s the problem? I thought I did a great job in Switzerland. I thought I was fitting in.”
“You did, and you are,” Donovan said. “That’s what we mean. The way you’re fitting in…”
It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize what Donovan meant.
Oh.
I felt myself blush. Why did we have to talk about this here? I guess they didn’t keep secrets from one another.
“I don’t think it’s a big deal.” I glanced at Michael, who was watching me carefully. “It’s only awkward if we make things awkward.”
“That’s what we want to make sure of,” Gregor quickly said. He looked as embarrassed as I felt. “Things can be casual, or things can be more serious. So long as they don’t interfere with the group dynamic overall.”
“And that’s not just a hypothetical,” Donovan said. “We had a… situation in the past where Gregor and I were both seeing a girl, and she didn’t get along with Michael. She couldn’t accept that the three of us were a team.”
“And that team comes first,” Gregor said. “No woman can split us up. If we have to choose, we’ll choose Eagle Eye every time.”
The seriousness of his tone was ruined by the mention of the mercenary name. I struggled not to laugh.
“I’m sorry. It’s just the name…” I waved it off and collected myself. “I understand. Bros before hoes.”
“We didn’t want to be so crude, but yeah,” Donovan said. “Thanks for understanding.”
I stirred refried beans with my fork. They were cold. “Don’t worry about me. I’m easy. Wait, I don’t mean--I mean easy to get along with. I go with the flow.”
“Mmm hmm,” Gregor said. “Good. Now that’s settled, let’s talk about the other files you guys stole from Accola. Did you see Abdullah bin Salam is one of his clients?”
“Our contact in Toronto would pay handsomely for that data,” Donovan said.
Michael looked thoughtful while drinking his beer, stealing glances over at me while we talked about Accola’s other clients.
22
Donovan
We split up after dinner to tend to our individual tasks. I had a problem with getting so focused on a mission that I forgot basic daily tasks like eating, bathing, and brushing my teeth. I was the kind of guy who you could give a job to and I wouldn’t rest until it was done. A one-track mind.
Since we had a break now that our next move was planned, I forced myself to take a shower and shave. Being blond meant I could get away with not shaving for a few days, but it still bothered me to let it get any longer than that. An old habit from Afghanistan that was hard to break.
Gregor packed up the 4Runner with supplies to fly down to Venezuela through one of our special transport contractors. He operated out of a small runway in Williamsburg, so Gregor would be gone for a few hours. But it was worth the drive. Guy could smuggle anything, anywhere. For a price.
Good thing JGB isn’t the only prize in this contract.
Once I was groomed and clean I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I didn’t feel like vegging in front of the TV, and despite my exhaustion I was too wired to go right to bed. So I checked on Juliana instead.
I knocked on her bedroom door. “Jules?”
“Come in,” she called from inside. I hesitated and opened the door to find it empty.
“Down here.”
A head popped up from behind the bed, then another. At first I feared that I had walked in on something sexual, but as I walked into the room I saw that they were just sitting on the floor with their backs against the wall. Juliana’s hair was still damp from the shower, which made it look more gold than blonde.
“Join us!” Michael said merrily. He extended an open bottle of red wine. “We were sharing stories.”
I took the bottle and sat down with them. Michael was a lot of fun when alcohol pierced his stony exterior. “Stories?”
“Of our worst COs,” Juliana said. “I just told Michael about Sergeant Karsh, at Fort Hood. Biggest pain in my ass.”
I took a pull of the wine. “Better tell it again for me.” Juliana’s leg was crossed over Michael’s. Was I interrupting something? Neither of them seemed to mind.
“I was stationed in Fort Hood after Basic,” she said. “That’s in Texas. Fun fact about Texas: it’s hot as balls. Did you know that? Because it’s true.”
I laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Sergeant Karsh loved the heat. Told everyone that he didn’t feel alive unless he was sweating bullets. Karsh also thought we had it easier than he did when he went through Basic, so he took it upon himself to harden us. Made us run 15 miles in the Texas heat twice a day, and three times on Sunday. Shit was bad. At the end of the first week Private Collins passed out from heat stroke.”
“Pfft. How’d he take that?”
“Like you’d expect.” Juliana took on the tone of an angry drill sergeant. “Private Collins! Your ass is property of the United Goddamn States of America! You have failed to properly care for government property! If you die out here I will personally send your family a bill for your shit-eating corpse, so help me God.”
The three of us burst into laughter. I passed the bottle over.
“I’m not the kind of guy who always tries to one-up everyone, but I think I’ve got you beat.”
Juliana gave a seated bow. “By all means.”
“He was my CO for my first tour in Afghanistan. Alexander Maydieu.” I rubbed my clean jaw. “Guy was obsessed with personal hygiene. Lost his shit if someone didn’t shave. One August, out in the Kabul region, we got the tail end of a monsoon. Rained for 72 straight hours. And not some piddling little rain that cleans your car when it’s done. These were big, fat raindrops. Sounded like pennies hitting the roof of our barracks.”
Michael whistled. “I hate the rain.” Juliana’s eyes held a lovely sparkle as she listened to me.
“This storm caused all sorts of problems,” I went on. “Mudslides and washouts. Cut off supply lines, both for us and the Taliban. It was like a timeout in a football match. Everyone sort of stopped what they were doing and hunkered down, which was nice for a while. Until the rain stopped and we had to get back to work. The first day after the storm an MRAP got stuck in the mud transporting supplies. Crew abandoned it and walked to base on foot. Well, we couldn’t leave such fine Army equipment out there for the enemy to salvage so they sent my unit out to retrieve it. Our transport request was denied, which meant we had to go on foot.”
“In the mud?” Juliana asked.
“It wasn’t as bad as you’d expect,” I said. “The roads were god-awful, but on foot we could travel on the rocky ground a bit higher up. It took us three days to walk to the MRAP. Carrying all our supplies on our backs. It was hot as hell, and humid like the worst Florida swamp on account of all the rain. Felt like we were inhaling steam with every breath. Fuck anyone who settles a civilization in a shithole like that.”
Michael burst out laughing. “Is that a dig at Israel?”
“You know it,” I grinned. “We reached the MRAP after three shitty days, and this thing is buried up to its tires. It’s in the worst possible place, high ridges all around. Perfect for an ambush. So we get out our shovels and start digging. This mud is the worst I’ve ever seen. As thick as half-dry concrete. Soon sweat’s pouring down our backs. My uniform’s so wet it looks like I jumped in a pool. One of the guys asks if we can take our jackets off while we dig. I say sure, so long as we keep the body armor on.”
“Oh no…” Juliana said.
I grabbed the bottle of wine from her. “Relax, it’s not one of those stories. It was suspenseful at the time. All I could think about was how any second I’d hear the crack of a rifle and one of my guys would drop dead. Eventually we dug the damn thing out. Even with eight of us it took all fucking day. Got the wheels exposed, put slats underneath them, and drove it on out. Seeing it get out of the mud was a satisfying feeling. We cheered like we’d captured Kabul all over again. So we grabbed our gear, piled into the MRAP, and drove it back to base like heroes.
“Major Maydieu was waiting for us when we got back. I was glad ‘cause I wanted him to see that we’d gotten the equipment. After that march I wanted an atta-boy. Instead we got our asses chewed out for dirtying our uniforms, and for not shaving. He wrote me up personally for violating the UCMJ. The Uniform Code of Military Justice.”
“What a dick,” Juliana said. She tossed her hair in front of her face, then pulled it back with her hands. The muscles in her arms were taut. “Bet that writeup kept you from getting promoted.”
“I didn’t care about any promotion,” I said. “I was pissed off because this motherfucker cared more about our appearance than anything else. Not our mission. Not our safety. Our goddamn uniforms. After that we clipped disposable razors to the outside of our packs as a sign of protest.” I snorted. “Maydieu took it at face value and commended us for learning our lesson.”
“I would have punched him in the face,” Michael announced. His Israeli accent was more pronounced when he got tipsy. It was hilarious. “I am surprised you did not, Donovan!”
I leaned against the wall and smiled. “Yeah, well, he got his in the end. My whole unit made it out of Afghanistan alive while Maydieu was hit by a stray bullet on a routine patrol. Karma’s a bitch.”
Juliana held the bottle high. “To karma!”
She took a swig and passed it to Michael, who did the same and passed it to me. Sharing a bottle of wine on the floor of the bedroom was strangely intimate. More so than any candlelight dinner.
“This is much more fun than my old job,” Juliana said. There was a slack to her eyelids from the wine, but she wasn’t drunk. Maybe tipsy. She looked at her watch. “I’d be leaving work now. Probably taking work with me—I do my best network security analysis at home.”
“You say that now,” I said. “Venezuela won’t be as glamorous as Switzerland.”
“I’m fine with that. Totally fine. I just wanted to get away. To do something exciting for a change. I didn’t realize that when you picked me up at Defcon East, but I know it now.” She elbowed Michael in the ribs. “Plus my coworkers are much hotter than Mr. Pendleton.”
“If I am so hot,” Michael said, “why did you resist me in Switzerland?”
“Ruh roh,” I said, putting my hands up. “I can step outside…”
“Stay right there,” Juliana commanded with mock seriousness. “Gregor insisted things don’t get uncomfortable. So let’s get it out in the open. Donovan and I had sex. In the hotel room before you guys gave me that stupid test.”
