Seal of Honor(6)
Gabe briefly met Quinn’s stare and then nodded once. He understood, all right, and his respect for Tuc ratcheted up a notch. “Should the occasion call for it, you and your men will have top priority.”
“Thank you. So.” Tuc finished his champagne in one swallow and pushed away from the balustrade. “Quinn tells me you have a team lined up from the dossiers I gave him.”
Gabe honestly didn’t know and looked at Quinn, who nodded and said, “We had six men submit resumes.”
“Their qualifications?” Gabe asked.
“Couple ex-CIA spooks, an FBI negotiator, a Delta Force medic, an explosives tech…” His eyes slid away for the barest instant before he continued. “And a Marine sniper. They’re all experts in their fields—”
“Whoa, wait.” Gabe held up a hand. “What sniper?” He got nothing but a whole lot of stubborn silence in response and shook his head in disbelief. “Goddamn. You’re talking about Seth Harlan, aren’t you? The same Seth Harlan that—”
“I recommended him for a position. He’s an excellent sniper,” Quinn said with an expression on his face that dared Gabe to argue. Well, he’d take that dare.
“Q, are you out of your fucking mind? Harlan’s unstable.”
“He’s better now.”
“Good for him.” When Quinn just gave him a long stare, the kind that always made him feel like a complete ass, he added, “Listen, I give the kid credit for surviving what he did, I do. And I know you have a soft spot for him, but he’s traumatized. Who wouldn’t be? I don’t want that kind of baggage weighing down my team. Think about it. What if he has a psychotic break in the middle of an op?”
Quinn held his gaze a moment longer, then swore softly. “Yeah, you’re right. I know you’re right, but—shit. All right. Harlan’s out.” He turned back to Tuc. “The only man I haven’t been able to reach yet is the linguist, Jean-Luc Cavalier. Apparently he lives in the middle of the bayou and has spotty cell service.”
“If you want him, you’d better find a way to get in touch,” Tuc said. “Because I already have a job for you. I was recently contacted by Zoeller and Zoeller Insurance Company, on behalf of Bryson Van Amee. Have you heard of him?”
Gabe had. “He’s in imports and exports and does a lot of subcontracting for the military.”
“That’s right. Bryson was taken hostage this morning in Bogotá during a business trip. The FBI fears one of the guerilla groups may be responsible.”
Gabe nodded. Wealthy American businessman plus Colombian paramilitary—yeah, the math added up, and the sum didn’t look good for Bryson Van Amee.
“The FBI is working with his wife, Chloe,” Tuc continued, “but Zoeller and Zoeller wants to free him before a ransom is paid, or else they’ll be liable for a hefty kidnap and ransom insurance payout.”
“Does the FBI know what Zoeller’s doing?” Gabe asked.
Tuc gave a thin smile. “What do you think?”
That’d be a big negative. Okay, he wasn’t all that crazy about working against the FBI—well, maybe “against” was too harsh a word, since they all wanted the same results. Still. It somehow seemed a betrayal of his former career.
“I understand your hesitation,” Tuc said after the silence stretched too long on his end. “Believe me, I do. I had some bad moments when I went private. But I’d also like to point out that the FBI hasn’t sent a team in after him and isn’t planning to. They’re hoping to simply talk his abductors down or, if all else fails, pay the ransom. He’s not important enough to them. Even with his government contracts, he’s a small fish in the grand scheme of things, and Uncle Sam could care less about what happens to him. But that man’s damn important to his wife and kids, his sister, his company—and you’re his best chance at survival.”
Gabe considered it. He had two choices. Go wheels up, sneak in under the FBI’s nose, and bring Bryson Van Amee home to his family, or gimp back to his boring new job at the Pentagon, where he would forever be under the Admiral’s thumb. Yeah. When put that way, there was really only one choice.
“Q, we have to get mobilization orders to the men,” Gabe said, his mind already working through the logistics. He checked his watch. “Tell them to be ready at—wait, do you have a plane for us?” he asked Tuc.
“Fueled and ready to go. You’ll also have helos and a HumInt pilot at your disposal here and in-country.”
“Perfect. We’ll need one to dig Cavalier out of his hole in the bayou.”