Chapter 7

7

CORE, SINGAPORE

The Hyundai's tires squealed around a corner, following the silver semi.

Holding tight as the car careened into traffic, Delaney thanked God the metal box shipping containers bearing the Sachaai S weren't volatile unless mixed. But also— let's not mix them. She slid into the car door, and Surge nearly ended up in her lap. She put her arm around him to keep him steady. A keen awareness hit her—they were heading away from downtown and the shoe factory. Farther from Garrett.

"Where are they going?" the Grab driver asked, gaze bouncing to the mirror.

"Not sure."

"You don't know where your boyfriend's going?"

"I . . ." She eyed him, then saw beyond him as the semi was turning, grateful she wouldn't have to answer his question. "They're turning!"

"Chen Street. Got it. I'll catch up to them." He hit the gas hard. "I'm Torrence."

"Hi, Torrence. Delaney." Surge whined a little as he laid his head in her lap.

She didn't blame him. Those chemicals were destined for her country. She chucked his chin. "We're behind them, boy. I promise."

"Delaney?" Torrence's voice sounded tight. "I hate to ask, but we're not doing this ride Grab-official, since you are in a hurry. You do have cash, don't you?"

"Y—" The answer died in her throat. Oh no. She'd left her wallet at the safe house for operational security. But Garrett was tracking them.

Absolutely.

She hoped. With cash.

"Yeah. I do." Her voice pitched high.

Delaney looked down at the SAT phone she'd pretended belonged to a "boyfriend."

This was undercover, not lying, right?

He made a halfway stop at the light, then took a hard left. She snagged the grab handle again. Torrence obviously had taken her mission on as his own. He negotiated around a parked truck on the side, veered hard left to avoid a blue sedan.

Don't let him get in an accident. Please, God.

Where was Garrett? She drew out her SAT phone and eyed it. No reply. She hoped the messages were getting through.

"I can still see the semi up there," Torrence said, "but traffic is getting bad."

She looked up as the light changed and a large group stepped away from a crowded gelato shop into the street.

Torrence ground down on the brakes.

The phone sailed out of Delaney's hand onto the seat next to Surge. She grabbed for it before it ended up on the floor. Swallowing hard at how close they'd come to hitting the people, to running a red light, Delaney tensed. Saw the large truck turn out of sight. "We're losing them!"

Torrence veered around a motorcycle, pitching her toward Surge.

"Shoot!" he exclaimed. "I lost them! Did you see them turn?"

She tossed the phone back in her pocket. "Sorry. Keep driving, and I'll look down the cross streets for them."

"Okay. This is your boyfriend, lady."

Rashid her boyfriend. The thought nauseated her. At the third cross street, she spotted the truck sailing past a UPS truck. "Left here!"

"Can't. I'll take the next one." He lurched to the right around the car in front of them, rumble strips sending vibrations through the car. He cut into the left lane and swerved left at the next intersection, then gunned it back toward the street where she'd seen the semi.

She kept her eyes peeled and scanned the vehicles ahead of them. Buildings, cars, street vendors all vied for what little space stretched between skyscrapers. Past a row of food trucks, she saw the silver bullet glide by.

"There! I saw it," she called. "Turned right at that building that looks like it's made of children's blocks, but concrete."

He laughed. "Shang Tower. That's Stratus Street." He ground to a halt at a red light, impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

God, don't let police catch this kid speeding. But please help us catch up to that semi.

And do what?

She'd figure that out.

The light changed, and he took off.

She gasped as he turned right . . . in front of a line of cars. Then blew out the breath she was holding. He was supposed to do that. This was Singapore—left-lane driving.

"I don't see them," he said.

She shook it off and strained to look out the window. A digital billboard about Singapore Grand Prix, yes. The silver semi, no. "Man! I don't see it either."

"Sorry," he said, the car easing back to the speed limit.

She kept looking up and down the cross streets. Saw nothing but businesses, mothers with strollers, workers speed-walking into buildings. "No apology needed. You really tried for me."

"I guess he'll have to travel without his phone. That stinks."

Delaney sighed. She'd have to tell Garrett what'd happened. And that it'd failed. And that she didn't have cash to pay Torrence. "Thanks so much. Please just take me back to?—"

"Hold on." His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. "I might know where your boyfriend is headed." He pointed ahead to a sign that read SE Asia Container Action Corp with an arrow to the right. "He's driving a semi." Torrence shrugged. "We can at least check it out."

Her stomach clenched at the airport sign beside the first sign. Those chemicals could be headed anywhere from the airport. Anytime.

"Let's do it." She lifted the phone to try and call Garrett. Let him know?—

The Hyundai dove around a corner.

Pitched left, she struggled to hold on to both the phone and Surge, whose nails were digging into her leg. So she ditched the phone again. Trusted Garrett—like she'd said she did—that he was tracking her via Surge's chip locator.

Torrence hung a right and sped around sedans and SUVs. She snagged the grab handle above her, put her other arm around Surge, hoping Garrett wouldn't be too ticked with her, that this would pay off and he'd agree she had no choice but to follow. Granted, they'd located a huge Sachaai chem stash at the shoe factory, but this was Rashid and Tariq—and they'd said Hakim was waiting. This had to be important. Well aware she wasn't trained, she again prayed Garrett and Zim weren't far behind.

"This is it," Torrence said as he eased along the curb. He scanned the area and frowned at her in the rearview.

She eyed the six-foot chain-link fence that barricaded the front of the property, a gate locked and preventing entrance to Container Action. She could see the silver semi sitting in front of an office. Tariq and Rashid stood next to it, talking with a third man, his back to her. She was too far away to confirm, but she had a strong hunch that was Hakim!

Where was Garrett?

"You sure about this?" Torrence asked. "It feels . . . off."

So has my last week.

"I know. I think I see him"—which was true and should buy her time—"but let me make sure that's him. Please wait?—"

"I . . . I don't know. I'm illegally parked?—"

"Just two minutes. Please." She climbed out before he could argue further, trusting how nice he'd been to rescue her in the first place. Hopefully, he wouldn't abandon her.

Was there another way in? An entrance farther on? She moved a few feet down, crouched to stay in the shadows of a tall building as she crept out to see better.

A featherlight touch against her leg startled her—even as her brain registered Surge trotting ahead, sniffing around a building and stoop. "No! Surge, heel," she hissed.

She darted her gaze to the container yard and saw Hakim's gaze swivel in her direction. She ducked and eyed Surge. "Surge, come. Heel."

He hiked up his leg and relieved himself on the corner of a wall.

Of course you have to do that now.

"Hey." A hissed voice came from behind. "I'm leaving."

She shifted in her crouched position and looked back. Saw the driver slinking closer. "No, please?—"

"This is sketch. I don't think . . . I'm out of here."

She straightened. "No. Please!" Her own words bounced to her, and she feared she'd given herself away to the three men in the yard. She eyed them, saw Rashid looking this way now too. They couldn't see her, but she couldn't afford for the driver to abandon her here.

God! Help Hakim not see us. Send Garrett! Fast!

"Get down," she urged the driver.

"Sorry, I'm not dying for you!"

"Please. Wai—" Her breath backed into her throat as she saw a large shape blur at the driver.

* * *

Garrett threw himself at the guy going after Rogue. They went to ground, and he flipped the guy and drew back his fist.

"Garrett, no!"

"Hey!" the kid yelped.

Fury stayed, Garrett considered the two. "What're you doing?"

"He's my driver ," came Delaney's whispered cry.

Garrett thought to punch the punk anyway for bringing her to this place—begging for danger. Standing out in the open with trouble across the road.

"He's my Grab driver," Delaney snapped as she trotted over and crouched with Surge.

Garrett hauled the guy upright, then pitched him aside.

"Forget the pay. I'm outta here." Man Bun sprang into his car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Garrett turned to Delaney, trying not to yell at her. "Behind the SUV," Garrett ordered, pulling out his gun and following her into the SUV's shadows. "What were you thinking? Why'd you leave the shoe factory?"

She clenched her fists around Surge's leash. "Hakim, Rashid, and Tariq are over there in that storage yard."

He eyed the yard, then thumbed her toward the SUV. "Let's get out of view." In the SUV, he used his binoculars and found the three men, just as she'd said. He swallowed. Man . . . Hakim.

Zim snatched his camera out of his backpack, screwed on a zoom lens. "Confirm eyes on Rashid, Tariq, and that's Hakim." He snapped pictures of the men standing under the streetlights in the growing dark.

Garrett clenched his jaw, all his preconceived verbal lashings falling to his feet like wet noodles. She'd done it. Yeah, he'd been ticked that she'd taken off from the factory, left them, compromised the op, them, herself—but she'd done it. What intel had failed to do. She'd found Hakim.

"Look, I know what I did wasn't ideal, but when I saw Hakim, then Torrence threatened to leave me here . . . I didn't feel I had a choice." She sighed heavily from the back seat. "But I'm glad you're here—that you came."

Garrett didn't trust himself to answer that, wasn't sure what it meant that she was glad to see him. He eyed the yard again through the nocs. "How did you know to follow them?"

"There was an accident—beer spilled over the road from a truck"—she nodded toward the semi parked in front of the office?—"and I caught a glimpse of the boxes inside one of them. They had the Sachaai S, exactly like the boxes in the factory. The containers both did too."

"Describe them. Please."

"Silver cubes with triangular cutouts on the bottom. I've seen semis putting two or three of them on their beds instead of a regular-sized shipping container. Not sure what they're called. Square pods?"

Garrett used his phone and pulled up images of the LD3 containers and turned the phone to her. "Containers like this?"

"That's it." She waved at the fenced container yard. "I only saw the semi come in here, but I would guess they're all in here somewhere."

Garrett again used his nocs and surveyed the container yard.

"There are a ton of silver containers in there, of all sizes," Zim said, still peering through his zoom camera.

"And security cameras." Garrett comm'd Caldwell to hack into them, take a look around the container yard.

Zim clicked his camera. "I got a pic. Five-six-four."

"What's that?"

"The last digits of a silver container ID number. Can't read the rest. This one looks like it was just put in place, even though I can't see a Sachaai S." He glanced at Delaney. "I don't see a second."

Delaney's brow furrowed. "I definitely saw two."

"Maybe they already loaded one. Caldwell's accessing Agency channels to run the numbers," Garrett said. "Zim, find a way into the container yard."

"On it." Zim took off, jogging around the fence.

"This has got to be bigger than we thought," Delaney said.

"Agreed. Or Hakim wouldn't be here." Garrett closed his eyes for a moment. Their path forward depended on Caldwell's intel. In the past, that had compromised ops and cost lives.

Zim came sprinting up to them. "Boss, move! Tariq incoming!"

Garrett looked to the yard.

"Black Land Rover."

As if his words had brought it to life, the vehicle bounced around the corner. Tires screeched as headlamps swung toward them.

"Go!" Garrett shouted, urging Zim into the SUV.

Zim slammed the door shut and sped away.

Bullets pinged off the vehicle. Garrett prayed none hit them as they ripped through traffic until they lost the Sachaai.

Zim finally slowed to the speed limit. "I think we're good."

Garrett's heart rate slowed to the speed limit too. "Eagle Three, we are returning to the warehouse. Rendezvous there." When Surge's nose nudged his arm, he reached back to chuck the Mal's chin. Eyed Thompson. "I'm going to let it go that you did not stay close. At least now we have a location to give the Agency. Second, while you were defying my orders, Zim and I unearthed a lab on the third level of the shoe factory."

Her eyebrows lifted. "When we get back, I can have Surge check it."

"Exactly why I'm telling you."

Zim finally pulled up behind the factory.

Caldwell emerged from a door and hustled toward them.

"What's he doing?" Zim asked, slowing the SUV.

"No idea." Garrett eyed the door that opened, and the spook climbing in. "What's?—"

" Go , move!"

Zim faltered for a second, then hit the gas. "Why am I doing this?"

After winking at Delaney, Caldwell buckled himself in. "I accessed that computer Zim pulled. Found messages about a meetup here. Sachaai will be here soon. Get me back to the safe house and I can finish dissecting the computer. I have a team monitoring the container yard. We can go through that to find them."

Zim pulled into traffic.

"Where are those shipping containers, Spook?" Garrett demanded.

Caldwell sneered. "Unknown at this time. They had a pretty advanced system. I took the motherboard." He patted a satchel he had.

Great. Fine. Garrett's phone pinged, and he looked at it. He took a deep breath. The pressure was on now. "Damocles is watching the factory, and when it's clear, they'll work with local law enforcement to raid it. And Chapel's hunting down a semi to transport the chems once we find them."

As Zim stopped at a traffic light, Garrett's stomach growled. Loudly.

Surge woofed.

Garrett looked at his watch. "Almost twenty hundred. Let's grab some takeout, then get back and get to work."

"We get to have something besides turkey sandwiches?" Zim quipped.

"Hey," Delaney laughed. "A lot of blood, sweat, and tears went into those sandwiches."

"Tasted like it too," Zim teased back.

They pulled up in front of a food truck, and ten minutes later they had chicken satays. The deep, rich spices filled the SUV. Back at the safe house, Caldwell dropped the order on the kitchen table while Zim pulled down plates and sodas from the fridge.

Garrett was starving and wanted to enjoy his satays instead of his anger. "Delaney."

She looked over.

He tipped his head toward the living room. "We need to talk."

She nodded, grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the table, and went into the living room ahead of him.

Zim put a hand on his shoulder and jerked his head to the living room. "You like her, Boss?"

Garrett squared his shoulders. "No. Teammates."

"Why? Yeah, a team player, tons of dog skills. But she's a looker, and you two talk a lot. And she's so?—"

"Fearless?"

Zim grinned. "See? Perfect for you, Master Chief."

Garrett narrowed his eyes. "Mission focus, Petty Officer." He headed out of the kitchen and joined Delaney on the couch. But they sat there like strangers in an elevator.

She toyed with her watch. "Guess this is ‘later.' About following the semi—I wasn't trying to go rogue—I just didn't see how we wouldn't lose the trucks if I didn't. I was going to come back in when I heard them mention Hakim, then start to leave. I couldn't waste time."

Good start. He raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you let me know on comms?"

"I tried but the piece was damaged. So I sent a text—but I wasn't sure that went through. Which I guess worked well, since Rashid and Tariq would've recognized you too easily, so I just rode it out. Figured it was best to?—"

"Communication is vital. That was my decision to make—you're not an operator with the full breadth of intel at your disposal."

She swallowed. "You're right."

Her concession startled him. "Bet that hurt."

Her lips quirked. "More than you'll ever know." She shrugged. "Look, it all happened so fast and I just reacted. Did the best with the limited skills I had."

"I hear you. Makes sense."

Again her lips quirked. "Bet that hurt."

He wanted to scowl, but a smile hit his face instead. She wasso . . . bold. Yeah, bold. Not many women were like that.

Trust her.

He sat next to her on the couch. "I was angry that you left the team. Worried for your safety. But you didn't let that stash just vanish. Now we know what we're looking for and we have a starting point—the container yard. Good job, Delaney." He gave her a small smile. If the guys hadn't been right there in the kitchen, he'd probably have hugged her.

Smiling back, she tilted her head up at him, her ponytail swishing against his arm. Their gazes locked. Holy guacamole. He was having feelings.

Surge jumped onto the couch and jammed himself between them. His tongue withdrew into his snout, and those knowing eyes hit Garrett, as if to say, "I got eyes on you, slick."

He'd almost kissed her!

Laughing, Delaney shook her head. "Off, Surge."

The Mal jumped over to her, lay down, his eyes not leaving Garrett.

Time to eat satays and talk LD3 containers.

Surge was on to him.