Chapter 16
Helena chuckled, but Kori subtly shook his head.
Helena cleared her throat and dropped the smile.
“Bella is U.S. Marshal Bellona Gilmore. I wasn’t actually going to tell her, but it’s her dream to come to the training center.
Ahmed saw her and told her she was in after her leg was healed. She was injured protecting me.”
“Greer,” Kori said, triggering Helena’s memory.
Greer Parker Abel. Her mother was one of the Davies family and her husband was the billionaire tech mogul, Sebastian Abel.
Greer was former FBI Hostage Rescue turned advisor to the President of the United States.
She was a bona fide badass. “Ahmed texted in regard to Marshal Gilmore. I’ve sent what I found to you. ”
Helena wanted to ask what he meant by that, but Greer was reading intently on her tablet with one hand and gently pushing the stroller toward the conference room ahead of them as the babies slept.
Kori held out his hand to indicate for Helena to follow Greer into the conference room while Kori followed behind them.
“What an asshole.” Greer looked up to Helena once they got into the conference room. “So, the commander who kept writing bad recommendations for Bellona—”
“She goes by Bella,” Helena replied. She knew Bella didn’t love her full name.
“Too bad. I like that she was named after the goddess of war.”
“Oh, she’s still a goddess of war. Don’t let the nickname fool you.”
That made Greer smile. “I can tell by her file. She is very skilled in close combat. Much to her asshole of a commander’s chagrin.
He punished her by writing a bad letter of recommendation to the training center.
That’s under Ahmed’s control, and she’s already been approved to join the training center pending a doctor’s approval.
However, what’s under my control is dealing with her commander. ”
“You’re a presidential advisor. What can you do to a U.S. Marshal? No offense,” Helena added quickly as she thought of the layers of bureaucracy it would take to hold a commander accountable.
Greer just smiled again. “It’s done. He’s on leave pending an investigation. Dumbass groped Bella in a recorded room. Delaney, Ahmed’s daughter-in-law, hates men like that. She found the videos that the commander thought he had deleted. Spoiler, it’s not deleted. It rarely is.”
The door opened and a very sexy man with so much swagger it should be illegal walked in. He caught her eye and winked at her. “We have a guest,” he said in a British accent before taking her hand and giving her a heart-stopping smile.
“Knock it off, Wick. She’s Nolan’s girlfriend,” Greer told him.
“Is this the one all the bets are being made on?” another man asked, striding in with the confidence of someone in law enforcement.
“Jeez, Avent, can’t you let a girl breathe?” a pretty woman who looked like a delicate southern belle asked as she joined them. Although, behind the porcelain beauty was a strength that rivaled Bella’s.
“Sorry, Rosalie,” a newcomer, whose appearance screamed military with a dash of frat boy, added as he took a seat next to Avent and slapped him on the shoulder. “But some of us like the thrill of the game.”
“I do not understand this, Logan,” the man who walked in with this Logan said.
His skin was tanned, his hair dark, and he had a vaguely Middle Eastern accent.
“In my country, the old king would tell you to get married and hand you a wife. It was not a game. It was scary. Thank goodness King Draven took over and ended that practice.”
“Same in mine,” the last person to join them said. He was tall, muscular, and while his English was perfect, the accent and his coloring left Helena confused as to where he was from. “Now that President Deming is in office, we aren’t political pawns.”
Ah. King Draven was the ruler of a small country near Rahmi called Bermalia.
He had married a local Keeneston attorney and named her his queen.
Deming was Deming Nikan of Crusina. His country sat between Russia and China.
This group wasn’t all American. You add in Kori—who was from Rahmi—and the guy they called Wick who was clearly British . . . what was going on here?
“Helena, there’s a reason I asked Kori to bring you here today,” Greer said, quieting the group down.
Kori pulled out a chair around the conference table for her and Helena took a seat.
“As Kori said, we’re known as Bluegrass Ops.
We’re off the books and serve at the discretion of the president with the sole intent of protecting the world from evil.
As terror groups became more global, so must we,” Greer said, motioning to the tableful of people.
“Let me introduce you to the team. First, the leadership. I run the politics. I work with the world leaders to get assets and whatever else we need. Cassidy and her husband, Warrick, aren’t here today.
They run ops in the field. Usually from a safe distance, but Cassidy is sneaky.
Abby, Ahmed’s daughter, and her husband, Dylan, used to run ops on the ground, but have moved to the planning phase and run things from here.
They’ll be in later. It’s their daughter’s checkup at the pediatrician. Now for the team.”
Greer nodded to Kori who stood up. “I’m Korian Anwar, but as you know, everyone calls me Kori. I’m a Special Forces soldier here on behalf of Rahmi. I handle on-the-ground missions.”
The frat boy looking military man stood up next. “Logan Waterman. Former pararescue jumper until my old team turned me onto this gig. I supply air support, and if they screw up, I’m the one who goes in and rescues them.”
The woman stood up next and smiled sweetly at her. “Rosalie Hill. I was in the FBI at Quantico before joining here. I specialize in profiling and in operations that need a delicate touch.”
The law enforcement guy stood up next. “I’m Kellen Avent. I used to be on the protection detail for Secretary of State Sutton Ramsey.” Helena’s brow rose. Sutton was leading the presidential polls for the election later this year. “I also handle missions on the ground.”
The handsome man who had been confused on the betting apps stood up next. “I’m Xander Salem. I was a King’s Guard in Bermalia. It’s as if you combined your Secret Service with Special Forces.”
He sat back down and the man from Crusina stood up. “I’m Bowen Kozlov. I was also the equivalent to Special Forces. I helped lead the defense of President Deming Nikan over the past attempted coup. I’m intelligence, ground missions, and can also supply air support.”
The Brit stood up next and winked at her again. “They saved the best for last. I’m Byron Wickens, but everyone calls me Wick. I’m British SAS. Or I was until my mate gave me a call about this job.”
“And what exactly is this job?” Helena asked. “And while I feel honored to be included, I don’t understand why I have been.”
Greer rocked the stroller back and forth as she lifted up a controller and hit it.
Lights dimmed and the screen covering one whole wall lit up with a picture of Garang.
“There’s a global threat called the New Renaissance.
Have you heard of them?” Helena shook her head, so Greer continued.
“They were organized from the highest to the lowest levels of governments and private, powerful people. Their goal is to control the world to their favor and to the disfavor of their competitors.”
“They want a global dictatorship,” Helena said, already understanding the type of people they were talking about.
“Yes, but you never know who is involved. There was a previous incarnation of this group, and it included the former president,” Greer told her.
That shook Helena. He’d been so sweet. No way he was evil.
“There had even been higher-ups in the national media. However, we think they’ve been replaced with influencers.
Anyway,” Greer said, pointing to Garang, “we get a lead and track it down, trying to find a real name associated with code names they use — nobles and notables of the Renaissance. Bowen brought this situation to our attention. Garang was a thorn in everyone’s side for years as a pirate, but then something happened two years ago.
He received an influx of cash, weapons, and power.
Enough to challenge the current leader of South Sudan. Bowen, why don’t you take over?”
Bowen stood and took the remote from her. He pressed a button and there were pictures of Helena in a shootout with Garang and his men. “Do you know why Garang was there?” Bowen asked.
“He’s been systematically taking over towns,” Helena replied.
“Or, he’s been systematically looking for someone.
” Bowen pressed the remote and a photo of a smiling couple appeared.
The husband was in full military dress. The woman stood proudly next to him.
“Meet Okot and Amna Ismail. Okot was the power behind the military that led South Sudan into a supposed democracy. And Amna was the political force behind it. Together they were unstoppable. They had such hopes for the country, but as you know, it’s been in war ever since they established democracy.
Okot and Amna were killed in the first uprising against democracy, leaving behind a three-year-old and a newborn.
Then, two years ago, their daughter turned eighteen. ”
“And two years ago, Garang moved from marine attacks to land?” Helena asked trying to figure out his motive.
Bowen nodded. Then clicked the remote again. A picture of an adorable little girl with a newborn lying next to her came into view. “The children became orphans. Very powerful orphans. As both their parents left them money, ownership in international businesses, and more important, their names.”
“That would make them, what? Twenty and seventeen?”
“Right,” Bowen told her. “Old enough to get people to listen to them now and almost old enough for both of them to take control of their inheritance. And that’s even more dangerous than the money they will wield.”
“So, they went into hiding and now Garang is hunting them because they could rally the citizens to end this war? That’s a lot for a couple of young adults.”
“It is. If the daughter is anything like the mother, she’s the largest threat of them all.
Amna knew how to negotiate. She knew how to command attention.
She knew how to use backdoor channels to get things done.
All of her old contacts are waiting for her daughter to come take control of her inheritance.
And the son? Well, people will follow him solely because of who his father was.
He was one of the most famous military leaders of his time.
If the son has any of his father in him, he’ll be a natural-born leader.
But, most importantly, one with the moral compass to do what’s right. ”
“It sounds as if they’d be perfect recruits for this New Renaissance,” Helena said, trying to figure this all out.
“Join or die,” Greer replied. “That’s what we believe will be the options Garang gives them when they find them.”
“And what does this have to do with me?” Helena asked. “Because I know about Garang and got the Red Notice issued for him?”
“Because,” Bowen told her, clicking the remote again.
It zoomed up on a birthmark on the little girl’s arm, “We think you already know them.” He clicked the remote again and Lamya and Abu Hanifa were on the screen.
And there, on Lamya’s upper arm, was the same birthmark.
“Meet Lamya and Abu Ismail. Amna’s youngest half-sister married a man named Hanifa.
When Amna was killed, her younger sister took the children and raised them as their own.
They moved to a small village and introduced them as their own children.
When anyone made any connection to Amna, they moved.
They gave their lives to protect them. The fact they’ve been hunted nonstop for two years tells you how important they are. ”
“And now they’re coming to Keeneston,” Helena said, turning to Kori. “To you.”
“For us to protect,” Kori corrected.
“And for you to tell us everything you know about them, Garang, and the mountain of legal paperwork in Okot and Amna’s estate.” Greer handed a giant folder to Helena.
Helena set the thick packet down and opened it. Inside was a list of assets. Helena couldn’t stop the gasp as she read the list. “They own A.O. Petroleum?”
Greer nodded. “And A.O. Mining Company. In addition to Amna’s generational family company under T.K. Sudanese International Group.”
“I’ll start reviewing this right away,” Helena told them.
“Now, tell us everything you’ve learned about Garang that we wouldn’t already know,” Greer said evenly, though it sounded like a command. “So we can be ready for him when he comes, because he will.”