"This low-level paper pusher," Jaimie said. "By any chance do you have pictures and data on him? If so, I'd like to see it. I'll need everything you've got on all three of the traitors."
"Already sent to you."
"Not from Beijing?" she asked, holding her breath.
"No. The captain didn't know who or what he could trust. He flew in to inform the secretary general."
Jaimie let her breath out and went to her laptop, her fingers flying over the keyboard. The pictures of three men appeared, files flying across the screen, stacking up so fast Mack had no way of reading them. "Corporal David Shanty is our guard and this is his roommate, Corporal Fred Simmons. They entered the Corps in the buddy program. And Mack, this isn't good. Simmons knows what he's doing with computers. The captain was smart to worry that his computer might be compromised. The third man is Chang Lui, a fourth-generation gardener. Father is Chinese, his mother American."
"Just because this kid is good on a computer . . ." Griffen began.
"Trust me on this, Top," Jaimie said. "If they're in it together, Simmons is the one providing intel. His major was in computer science. He knows his stuff."
"What do you want us to do?" Griffen asked with a small sigh.
"Have them announce the dinner party immediately. Tighten security. Put a death grip on that place. As soon as it's locked down, ask the captain to send me everything he has. Use the encrypted program, but before he does, have them check his computer. Tell them they're looking for a hardware keystroke logger. If they've compromised his computer, that's what they'll have used. Tell him to change his password after they've removed the card and then send me everything."
"You're certain his computer is compromised?"
"If he's the captain, everything going on in that embassy is going to go through his office. Simmons is keeping a low profile, but he's working in the office. He'll have had access to the captain's computer at some point. It would only take a couple of minutes to slip a keystroke logger into an unused PCI mini slot. He'd just have to wait for the captain to log on. His log-in information along with everything he types would be recorded. When he's waited long enough to be certain he's gotten everything he needs, all he has to do is wait for the captain to leave the office again and recover the card. He has total access to all the captain's files."
"But the captain would change his password periodically."
"Which is why I think the card will be there. In the meantime, even if they don't find one, have him change his password before he communicates with me, that way we're sure no information will be compromised. If we're going in naked, at least let's make certain no one knows we're coming."
"Done," Griffen said.
"Let's get our gear ready, then," Mack said. "We don't have a lot of time. Anyone have any questions?"
"How are we getting them out of there, Mack?" Gideon asked.
The others, gathered in the kitchen, turned to listen.
"Same way we go in. No one can see us. The idea is that no one ever knows the kids were at the American embassy. We slip in and slip out."
"Through the Marines. During a heavily guarded political dinner."
"Yep," Mack said.
A slow smile spread across Gideon's face. "Just like in the old days when we were training, boss."
"Except this time," Jaimie pointed out, "you'll have a couple of terrified kids who may not understand you're there to help them."
"We don't know what shape they're in," Mack added. "Jaimie, you're good with languages. You'll have to do all the reassuring."
"You're just as capable," she corrected.
"Yeah, but you're a girl," he said with a smug grin.
"Paul can monitor everything from DC," Griffen said.
There was a small silence. Paul stood up slowly, a scowl on his face. Mack held his hand up, silencing the boy. "Paul's a valuable member of my team. You're not going to cripple us by breaking up the team now when this is so important."
"You said yourself that Paul couldn't communicate telepathically and would endanger your team," Griffen pointed out.
"That was before I knew him. He's a good soldier and we'll need him and his talents. He's a member of my team, Sergeant Major. You can't pull him without a reason."
For the first time Griffen hesitated. It was clear he didn't want to send his son on what might be a suicide mission, or one where, if they were caught with the children, they might be branded criminals for life--tried and convicted worldwide. Even if they were cleared later, the shadow would forever follow them. And they'd be exposed to the world. Considered a liability.
Griffen drew in a deep breath and glanced at his son. Paul looked excruciatingly embarrassed. The other team members were looking anywhere but at him. Griffen forced himself to nod. "Good, then. You must have a plan for communication."
"I always have a plan, Top," Mack said. "But the details of this mission I'll keep to myself. It's the way I always work and it keeps us alive."
Griffen stood up. "I'll leave you to get ready, then. I'll be flying back home. Paul, walk me out."
"You got it, Top," Paul said.
CHAPTER 19
Jaimie crouched on the floor of the van, her heart pounding so hard she was afraid it would burst through her chest. All around her, crammed close like sardines, were men in combat gear, full black from caps to crepe-soled shoes. Her mouth felt like cotton. She was an analyst, not a field operative. Why wouldn't anyone pay attention when she told them?
They had traveled for so many hours, poring over detailed blueprints, talking out every possibility, covering the smallest points, until Jaimie was exhausted and had lost track of time. The clothing was all too familiar; it clung to her like a second skin, as if she belonged. The men trained every day--every day in hostage rescue. Each one of them was a marksman. Each spent hours and hours on the range making certain every bullet they fired hit its target. They were all in superb shape. She must have been crazy to do this.
She opened her mouth to make another protest and closed it abruptly. They'd gone over every single detail in the hours of flight. All of them had slept the moment they'd closed their eyes. They'd trained their bodies to rest anywhere they could, under any circumstances. She looked around at the men she regarded as brothers--at the man she loved--and she realized they were born for this work.
She heard the murmur of their voices as if from a distance, the soft ribbing back and forth. Once, Kane leaned over and inspected Paul's pack. She felt the difference in the men even before the van began to slow. The adrenaline rush was unbelievable. For a moment, the chemicals running through her body nearly paralyzed her.
Just breathe through it, Jaimie, Mack's voice slipped into her mind. You'll do fine.
She nodded her head, but didn't trust herself to speak. He looked so confident. She couldn't imagine him not succeeding. Failure wasn't in his vocabulary. It was in the way he carried himself, the set of his shoulders. He would have been an extraordinary soldier without his enhancements, and they'd only made him that much better at what he did.
She forced another breath of air through her lungs.
Twenty seconds, Kane intoned.