Going by ground was dangerous too, but there was more opportunity for cover.
“I sent you blueprints of his compound and our flight plan. Check your email. He lives close to the Karun River.”
Roarke’s inbox pinged, and he opened the map showing the river snaking away from the gulf and a red star indicating Cameron’s house. “Got it. Looks like he’s thirty miles from the coast.”
“We’ll land about two miles from his compound and travel on foot. I’ve got a car waiting for us with the keys in it near the Karun. Once we get the cargo, we’ll drive to our meet point. You got us a boat?”
“Affirmative. I’ve secured our passage with a big-ass bribe.”
“Nice. Did you consider just crossing the river into Iran?”
Roarke made a face. “Briefly.” Crossing into the neighboring country would be too difficult. He didn’t have friends there he could call on for assistance. “He’ll expect us to take that route. Probably won’t anticipate we’ve secured the water.”
Striker grunted. “All right. It’s your call.”
“What’s he got for guards?”
Striker blew out a breath. “Looks like he always has three on duty. He’s got military-grade SUVs, so those’ll be impenetrable.”
An IED would take care of that, but he kept the comment to himself. The guy might be abusive, but he was still a father and aprominent businessman. He couldn’t go around blowing him up, no matter how badly he wanted to.
“The compound is enormous,” Striker continued. “His property alone is ten acres. House is five thousand square feet, modern as fuck, security system to the nines ... I mean, could you have found something harder for us to break into or what?”
Roarke sighed. When he’d spoken to Laine, he hadn’t gotten all the details. It wasn’t as if she’d had time to offer them. At the end of the day, though, it didn’t matter. He was getting her out.
“I know this is Twist’s sister ’n all. But maybe we should be realistic here. It might be easier to lure Laine and her daughter from the place.”
“Luring them away will take time. They’re getting married Monday, remember?”
Striker cursed.
“Not only that, but if we change plans, I have no way to get word to her. I think the best option is to get in and get out. Three guards shouldn’t be too hard.”
“It’s not just the guards we have to worry about, Rogue. There’s another kid in the house. Not to mention he locks all the rooms at night.”
Roarke’s pulse slowed. “He what?”
“Yup. The doors are all set up on an automatic timer—they lock at 9:00 p.m. and reopen at 7:00 a.m.”
“Fuck.” He rubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. Just when he’d thought things couldn’t get more impossible ...
“Why the hell does he lock them in their rooms?”
“Apparently, it’s for their protection. Considering how wealthy the guy is and his line of work, I suspect his enemies are plentiful.”
Roarke fought a current of worry. If he couldn’t get them out ... No, he had to.
“Look, bro,” Striker continued. “It’s understandable if you’re having doubts. We’ve been up against tough odds, but this is a little different, with another innocent child under the same roof—and an extraction.”
He wasn’t lying. If this were a matter of taking out a target he could do it with his eyes shut. Getting people out alive was the hardest part of the job. Still, his patience thinned. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying if you don’t think it’s doable, then we should reconvene. I can get word to her, leave that to me. Hell, even if she’s married we’ll make it work, but?—”
“No, no, no.” He shook his head. “If they’re married and we don’t make it back to the US, he’s gonna take that kid from her. I can’t allow that.”
“Married or not, if he gets to us, you know there’s gonna be trouble.”
Done arguing, Roarke stood. “Atlas,” he said, his patience all but snapping. The use of his friend’s first name was proof of that. “This is your last opportunity to opt out of the mission.”
