Hot Extraction by Laura Day

and breakfast, Ryker and Ronnie part without so much as a kiss in deference to watching eyes. He isn’t sure what he can do more than he is already doing, but he is more determined than ever to find Dr. Julian Baker and bring him home safely.
     
    He spends the day canvassing an area of Beirut known for not asking too many questions, showing a picture of Julian Baker and spreading Pound notes around along with a card containing a contact number. It gets a lot of promises, but nothing concrete. He knows that what he is doing is only slightly better than useless, but he can’t just sit around waiting while the spooks scrounge. Sometimes you have to depend on a bit of luck.
     
    He is sitting in a small cafe having a light lunch of Fattoush, a type of vegetable salad served with pita bread, when a man sits down across from him. He is instantly on his guard, drawing his weapon but keeping it hidden under the table.
     
    “You are looking for a Dr. Julian Baker, are you not?” the man asks in barely understandable English.
     
    “I am,” Ryker replies, his eyes never stopping as he scans for threats while the man distracts him. “Do you know where he is?”
     
    “No. But I am to deliver a message. An old friend of yours has asked to meet with you at Hanaii, outside, on the patio, at 5:30. He has information that he said you will find useful. He said come alone.”
     
    “Who is it?” Ryker asks, suspicious. Nobody is supposed to know he is in the country.
     
    “I do not know. I am but the messenger,” the man says as he rises, turns, and walks away.
     
    Ryker keys his mic with a touch to his ear bud. “Give me Colonel Hargraves.”
     
    After a few minutes Hargraves speaks in his ear and Ryker gives Hargraves the detail of his conversation.
     
    “You know it is probably a trap.” Hargraves says.
     
    “Yes. But we have to take that chance. Have the spooks turned up anything useful?”
     
    “No.”
     
    “So we have to go with it. Let’s put two men in the restaurant well before we meet. Have them bring a date or something. Get one of those female CIA agents. I will go out on the patio alone, but if the shit hits the fan at least I will have some backup.”
     
    “I don’t like this,” Hargraves says.
     
    “You think I do? But what choice do we have?”
     
    Hargraves is quiet a moment. “Okay. I have a female Marine that is rated as expert with the service pistol. We’ll use her and I’ll find someone else. That will give us two two-man fire teams if the shit gets deep. But you are going to be on your own at first.”
     
    “Roger that,” Ryker says.
     
    Hargraves chuckles. “You’ve got balls, Evans. More balls than brains.”
     
    This time Ryker chuckles. “Roger that.”
     

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
     
    Ryker returns to the embassy to wait for his appointment. He could continue to pound the pavement but he feels his time would be better spent returning and working out the details of the meeting. He, Hargraves, and a small mousy man that provides intel on the restaurant discuss the logistics of what they are about to attempt. The fire teams are still being assembled. He only knows that it is going to be three Marines in plain clothes and one of the three female CIA field operatives. With that much firepower he knows if he can hold his own for ten seconds they can handle just about any threat short of a full on assault. And that isn’t likely to happen, otherwise the meet wouldn’t be scheduled for a popular and well known location.
     
    After two hours of talking out the logistics of the meet, Ryker is confident that they are as well-prepared as possible given the uncertain nature of the plan. With some extra time to kill, he tracks Ronnie down in the infirmary where she is sitting in a chair and reading to two of the wounded Marines from a Kindle.
     
    “I’m going to borrow this lovely lady for a few moments,” he announces, stepping up and interrupting.
     
    One of the Marines nods slowly.