14. Lock
LOCK
“Alright! Everyone, quiet down!” I yelled over the cacophony of shouting and arguing.
There wasn’t a single person who didn’t turn up when word spread that Cash was not only alive, but was currently being pinned for the murder of President Codi at the Peace Summit. Arguments started immediately about who believed all along that Cash was dead and who knew he was alive.
FNG was taking bets on whether or not Cash actually pulled the trigger, along with how he was going to get out of the pickle he was in. Money was being thrown around like we were betting on the winning horse. It was absolute chaos.
I let out a piercing whistle, finally garnering the attention of everyone in the room. Eva and Knight stood to the right of me, each of them determined to find Cash and get him out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself into. It seemed Knight was privy to information none of the rest of us were.
“Hey! I know you’re all excited about this new intel, but right now, we need solutions, people! If it’s true, and Cash is over there right now being pinned for the murder of President Codi, this will not be an easy extraction!”
Finally, the noise levels died to a manageable degree as everyone tucked in for a plan. Eva stepped forward, addressing her team. “As you know, Cash has not been himself for a long time, but we believe there are other forces driving him.”
“You mean, aside from his pure hatred for me,” Kavanaugh muttered.
“He does not hate you,” Eva countered.
“Then explain why the fucker took a shot at me and nearly killed me.”
It was hard to argue with that, but there had to be a reason. I just couldn’t buy that Cash purposely shot Kavanaugh. Then again, he was pretty pissed when Kavanaugh refused to help.
“Kavanaugh, that’s all in the past. Maybe not for you, so if you need to sit this out, we’ll all understand.”
“Sit it out?” he scoffed. “How the hell would I hold it over his head for the rest of his life if I’m not there to rub it in his face that I rescued him?”
My lips twitched in amusement, but I didn’t let the smile break through. Not yet. We still had to rescue our former boss and find out just what the hell was going on.
“Based on the intel we have, we know Cash was working with other people. At this point, it’s safe to assume that Cash was set up to take the fall for the murder of President Codi, which means he’s most likely on the run with no allies.
We know he was in the Middle East thirty-six hours ago, and based on how quickly the borders shut down, it’s also safe to assume that he did not make it out unless he had help.
You all know him best. Where would he go? ”
“He’s really only got about five options,” Rae spoke up. “I think we can instantly rule out Africa. He’d have to cross through Egypt, and he already sticks out like a sore thumb.”
“Why’s that?” Eva asked. “There are plenty of tourists in Egypt.”
“Yes, but Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia…” She shook her head as she studied the map. “There’s not nearly as much food over there. A tall, white American built like Cash would never make it through unnoticed.”
“But then he would already stand out,” Eva pointed out.
“True, but we can also assume he’s traveling alone. Again,” Rae shrugged. “It’s unlikely he wouldn’t be easily targeted if he went toward Africa.”
“Okay, so for now, let’s take Africa off the list,” I said, moving things along.
“What about cutting across to Greece?” IRIS suggested. “Getting toward Eastern Europe would be ideal.”
“Not through Turkey,” Nick said, walking over to the map.
He trailed a finger across the map of Turkey, to which Cash would undeniably have to cross if he wanted to get to Greece.
“They’re under the microscope of the European Union for smuggling people out of the Middle East. Everyone from Syrians, Palestinians, Iraqis, Iranians, and their brothers are trying to get out right now, and Turkey is the way to go.
Plus, it’s a major heroin route. If Cash got caught up in that, he’d be fucked ten ways from Sunday. ”
That made sense. “Right, so let’s cross Turkey off the list.”
“Along with the Black Sea and the Mediterranean,” Nick continued. “The Mediterranean has conflicts with Israel right now, and they’re checking ships for smugglers. And the Black Sea is smack dab in the middle of the whole Ukrainian conflict.”
I took a whiteboard marker and crossed off Turkey, the Black Sea, the Mediterranean Sea, and Africa. That didn’t leave us with many more options to get him out.
“You can cross off the ‘Stans,” Thumper said, studying the map.
Eli nodded along with his assessment. “Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan…that’s all Bin Laden territory. Unless he wants to be shot in the head or made an example of, there’s no fucking way he’d risk that route.”
I marked that off also.
“Alright, that leaves one route, people.” I drew a giant circle around Georgia and Azerbaijan. “How does he get out?”
FNG was practically jumping in the air with his hand reaching for the stars.
“He’s not getting out with an umbrella,” I said, rolling my eyes.
FNG scoffed out a laugh. “No, but that would be brilliant, right? Okay, here’s how it’s going to happen. First, he’s going to drive up to Tbilisi, Georgia.”
“Georgia’s US-friendly,” Brock nodded.
“Exactly. And from there, he’ll drive to Baku, Azerbaijan, where he’ll take a merchant ship to Astrakhan, Russia.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked, confused by his logic.
“Because from Azerbaijan, he can be smuggled into Russia with barely any attention on him.” FNG slid his finger up the map to Volgograd. “He’ll take the Volga River to Volgograd?—”
“Why wouldn’t he just drive?” Chase asked. “It would be faster than taking the river.”
FNG rolled his eyes. “Fine, he’ll take a car.”
“But wouldn’t Moscow be the more likely route?” Eva asked.
I shook my head immediately. FNG was right on that front. “Too many cameras. He’d be spotted immediately and thrown in a gulag.”
“They don’t have gulags anymore,” Dash snickered.
“It was just a fucking saying,” I snapped.
“Then say he was thrown in a Russian prison. Or say that he was tortured and shot. That’s way more accurate.”
Growling in frustration, I motioned for FNG to continue. “What next?”
“Ukraine!” Fox shouted.
Slider jumped up next. “Paris! See? I can say stupid shit, too.”
“Why the hell is Ukraine such a bad idea?” Fox demanded.
“Because there’s a fucking war going on right now, and the US is supposed to be staying out of it. If they captured him there, it would cause a fucking international crisis. Russia would say he was a spy and shit would go to hell.”
“World War III,” I surmised.
“Precisely,” Slider huffed.
“Which is why he’s not going to head to Eastern Europe,” FNG grinned. “He’s going to take the train from Volgograd to Kazan, where the Trans Siberian Railway is.”
“Shit,” I muttered, looking at the expanse of Russia he would need to cross. “That’s a four-day journey.”
“And then some,” FNG continued. “He’ll land in Khabarovsk, switch trains to Komsomolsk-on-Amur. At that point, he’s so far from all living creatures, no one will ever find him.”
“Except me,” Scottie grinned.
“Precisely,” FNG continued. “It’s just a hop, skip, and a jump on a fishing boat from Komsomolsk-on-Amur to Alaska.”
“Fishing boat?” Scottie frowned. “No planes?”
“It’s easier to sneak him into Alaska on a boat. From there, he can take the ferry to Seattle, where no passport is needed, and voila! He’s back in the US.”
“Just like that,” Eva muttered. “Just a hop, skip, and a jump.”
“See? Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.”
“I still think he should go to Ukraine,” Fox pouted. “It was a good fucking idea.”
“Yeah, if we want to start an international incident,” I retorted. “We want him alive.”
FNG spun around to face everyone, a huge grin on his face for having figured it all out. “So, now the only question is, who’s going to get him out?”
Every single fucking hand rose eagerly to help our leader out of the jam he was in. Not that I doubted any of them. Well, maybe Kavanaugh.
“Alright, so who wants the horrible task of getting him through Russia?”