Forced to Kill by Andrew Peterson Read Free Book Online Page B

General.”
    Thorny grunted, obviously still upset about his murdered Marine.
    “Is it possible the Hungarian government might be involved in both cases?” Harvey asked.
    “It’s a possibility,” Nathan conceded. “Pretty bold move if they are. Hiring Montez to torture and murder a U.S. citizen on U.S. soil?”
    “Gentlemen, I need to step into a meeting,” Holly said. “I’ll be back in touch shortly. Nice meeting you, General, Major.”
    “SAC Simpson,” Thorny said, “the pleasure’s been mine. Great work on the NCIC search. Sharp thinking.”
    “Thank you, General,” she said. “Nathan, I’ll call you with anything new. Have a safe flight.”
    Nathan ended the call.
    “Make sure you copy my office on that police report when Simpson sends it to you. If Montez or his goons killed my Marine, I want that Nicaraguan’s skin hanging on my wall.”
    Nathan looked away. So much for capturing Montez alive to track down MIAs.
    Harv executed an illegal U-turn and reentered traffic.
    When Thorny spoke, he sounded calmer. “Nate, I know you’re worried about leaks, but at the pay grades we’re talking about, I highly doubt Montez has any way to find out what we’re doing. I think we’ll be okay.”
    He wasn’t sure he was in agreement, but he didn’t see a better way to proceed.
    “I’ll call the secretary of the navy once I’m airborne and ask him to call the NSA’s director,” Thorny said. “Since there won’t be any real way to keep this under wraps at that point, I’ll also ask him to call CIA Director Rebecca Cantrell. And since both of them report to the Director of National Intelligence, it’s a good bet the DNI will become involved. And you know who the DNI reports to.”
    Nathan did.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 8
     
     
     
    Nichole Dalton opened her eyes and tried to focus.
    She couldn’t see anything.
    Total blackness.
    What happened? The last thing she remembered was being attacked. A man had been shot trying to help her. She got loose and ran away, but they caught her and dragged her into a van. She remembered a horrible chemical smell, like rubbing alcohol. No, not alcohol. Ether . They’d used ether on her. She couldn’t remember anything after that.
    She tried to sit up, but couldn’t move her arms or legs. A cold chill raked her body when she realized she was completely naked and strapped to some kind of metal table. Bound and naked! She jerked her arms in a frantic test of her bonds, but they wouldn’t budge. Same with her feet. She tested the straps again, much harder, and felt her skin burn from the friction. Craning her head, she looked left and right, but found only blackness. Her daughters! Where were her daughters? Did they kidnap them too?
    Full-blown panic seized her.
    She turned her head toward the sound of a door opening. A few seconds later, it closed with a bang. The reverberating echo meant this had to be a fairly large room. The sudden squeal of wheels terrified her. It was a hideous sound, like fingernails on a chalkboard, only worse.
    “Who’s there?” Her voice cracked and she hated how weak it sounded.
    The squealing got louder.
    “Who’s there?”
    Nothing, just the increasing screech of wheels. A chill raked her again, not from the cold, but from that hideous sound.
    She began jerking her body in a frantic attempt to break free. Tears flew as she whipped her head back and forth in frustration and fear.
    “Someone help me!” she screamed.
    The squealing got louder by the second.
    “Please, someone help me!”
    The squealing ended. Then slow footsteps. Unconsciously, she held her breath.
    Directly above, a floodlight snapped on. The stab of pain shot through her skull. She squinted against the blinding intrusion, looked down the length of her body, and froze. Mounted on a tripod, a video camera loomed, its red eye unblinking.
    A face appeared above her, eclipsing the bulb. A man’s face. Hispanic. Black, braided ponytail. Smiling.