A/N — Happy Halloween to those who celebrate! Today I escorted a Space Angry Bird, Cove Dragon, and Wednesday Adams to three parties. I am exhausted so apologies for any errors! xoxo — kals

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Chapter 15

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Another thirty minutes passed before Pablo finally dropped from his tree. Green stood as the man approached, reaching out to clap Pablo's hand, pulling him in for a hard hug. "Just so you know, you missed my wedding."

"I heard you went and got yourself hitched," Pablo replied, a smile flitting across his face. "Can't imagine what she was thinking." Then the smile disappeared, Pablo's eyes flickering from Danny to Tom and back. "Where's Cooper? And why's he here?"

"Coop's handling Doctor Scott," Danny explained.

Assuming that Pablo's presence meant he did, in fact, want to talk, Tom decided that there was no point beating around the bush. "I'm here because I think Amy Granderson is using the cartel to deliberately infect United States citizens with the virus, and that you have the information I need to prove it."

Face impassive, Pablo looked to Tom, then at Green, before his gaze returned to Tom. "You really don't know?"

"Know what?" Tom asked, entirely focused on Pablo.

"The cartel isn't doing Granderson's dirty work. She's doing theirs." Pablo paused, taking in the blank stares all around, before adding. "Granderson's tough on crime policy in the 90s was a scam. The Sinaloa cartel gave her tips on their competitors, which is how she was able to score so many drug busts. They got a monopoly, and she got the glory. It was a mutually beneficial relationship that got her all the way to the Presidential Defense Board. Except then this virus arrived and El Chapo got greedy. He doesn't just want to control the Secretary of Defense."

Tom could feel the pieces clicking into place. "He wants a puppet president."

Pablo smiled grimly. "Just like he has in Mexico."

"Which means," Tom said, thinking about all the time wasted imagining how Granderson would proceed when, in reality, she was never the person who was calling the shots, "it wasn't Granderson who infected Fort Sam Houston. It was the cartel."

"Wouldn't the cartel want us out of the way?" Green asked, face wrinkling. "It would have been easy enough to keep us running up and down the eastern starboard. No reason to keep us here, in Texas."

Play it out to the end.

Wasn't that what Sasha always said? The question wasn't why the cartel wanted the Nathan James here so much as what keeping the Nathan James here meant. The only reason for the cartel to draw the Nathan James to Texas was ... The answer was staring Tom in the face, now that he was looking at the pieces correctly. His head jerked up. "The cartel wants something, no, someone on the Nathan James."

Pablo nodded, face hard. "Granderson hasn't been playing by their rules. She was supposed to control the distribution of the vaccine. Then El Chapo could sell it on the black market. If you can't control the vaccine..."

"You control the only person in the world who can stop it," Tom finished grimly. He spun on his heels. "We need to get back to the ship. Now."

xxxxx

Tom watched as Danny paced back-and-forth across CIC. Normally Tom would have insisted that the man take five to get his head on straight, but he doubted that there was anything that was going to calm Danny down right now. Not when his wife — his pregnant wife — was likely in the hands of the Sinaloa cartel. And if that wasn't bad enough, every person here was well aware that both Sasha and Kara were on borrowed time. Sasha might have convinced Andrade, El Chapo's son, that she was Doctor Rachel Scott at the stadium while she was wearing a surgical mask, but all it would take was someone smart enough to compare Sasha's face to a photograph of Rachel in order for her charade to be at an end.

In which case, there would be no reason to keep either Sasha or Kara alive.

An image of Sasha standing on the deck this morning, as the helicopter rose into the air, crept into Tom's mind. There was a slight frown creasing her forehead, one Tom assumed was due to worry about Pablo and whether the team would find the man in one piece. Irony, really, when she should have been worried about herself. Anger burned, deep in his gut, as Tom imagined what Sasha was going through right now. Four hours had already passed, and the minutes were ticking by far too quickly. They needed a plan — now.

Tom forced his attention back to Mike. "What exactly did Granderson ask when she called, XO?"

"She said that she had heard about a disturbance at the Superdome and she wanted to know if Doctor Scott was back on the James," Mike replied, voice harder than Tom ever recalled. Of course, they had never been in the position of having two members of their crew kidnapped before either. This was a situation Tom never planned to repeat. "I reassured Granderson that Doctor Scott was safe in her lab, which was easy enough to relay since it was true."

"Granderson didn't ask to speak with Doctor Scott herself?" Tom pressed.

"No, Captain. Mrs. Granderson accepted my assurances and ended the call," Mike explained.

Tom tapped his fingers on the table, willing the thoughts swirling in his mind to form into some kind of order. But why? Why wouldn't Granderson want to see Rachel with her own eyes? "And the call came less than an hour after the evacuation?"

"Forty-three minutes exactly, Captain," Alisha answered.

Tom studied Alisha, imagining how difficult this scenario must be for her. Finding out that Amy was involved with the cartel had been bad enough, but Pablo's information was even more damning. This wasn't a case of strange bedfellows thrown together by the virus. Instead, Amy Granderson had willingly gotten into bed with the cartel years ago, as well as benefitted from that relationship for her entire career. Mike actually recommended leaving Alisha out of the briefing, but Tom insisted that Alisha remain. Right now they needed every advantage that they could get, and that included Alisha. "We're certain that Fort Sam Houston didn't tell the White House about the disturbance until after Granderson made her call?"

"Yes, sir. I spoke to the base myself. Initially, they were aware only that there was a panic and that Lieutenant Benz was requesting back-up," Alisha explained.

"I told Sergeant Smith to keep a lid on his information until we could figure out what to do," Mike added.

Given how angry both Benz and Smith were upon Tom's return to the Nathan James, Tom could only imagine how well that conversation went. Even now, Benz was watching Green warily, as though he expected the man to personally blame him for what went down at the Superdome. Tom shifted his focus to Pablo, who sat on the far end of the table, arms folded across his chest. Reminding himself to use the name in Pablo's official file, Tom asked. "What's Granderson up to, Agent Reyes? Why call for an update but not demand to speak with Doctor Scott?"

Pablo shrugged. "The cartel must have told Granderson that they had Doctor Scott. She assumed Commander Slattery was lying."

"The cartel couldn't have told Mrs. Granderson," Alisha said softly. "XO had us track all calls between the White House and Mexico City as soon as we learned of the abduction. No calls met the parameters."

"Unless they called her from New Orleans," Pablo noted, drawing a reluctant nod from Alisha.

Tom wondered whether Pablo knew of the connection between the two women. Probably, given his information about Amy. He focused on Alisha. "Let's have Ms. Raymond trace any calls to and from the White House made from New Orleans, Texas or Mexico today. We need to know how much Mrs. Granderson knows, and how much she's guessing."

There was a slight pause before Alisha spoke. "That's a long list, Captain."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Tom forced his voice to remain neutral. "Do the best you can, Lieutenant."

"Either way, Granderson's screwed," Tex interjected. Every eye swung towards him. "The cartel's been setting her up to take the fall the entire time and if it weren't for Pablo here, we'd have fallen for it hook, line and sinker."

Danny stopped pacing, swinging around, Tex's suggestion enough to penetrate whatever was going on in his head. "The infected safe zones lead directly back to Granderson. That's why we thought she was the ringleader."

"Hole in one there, Green." Tex nodded, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "If the cartel failed in grabbing Rachel, they still have Granderson dancing at the end of their string. If they succeeded, Granderson's political career is over. They left a trail of breadcrumbs leading right back to her."

"Unless Granderson figures out a way to blame someone else," Tom said, rolling the idea around in his mind. It made sense. He looked at Mike. "When is the next scheduled briefing with the White House?"

Mike frowned. "A briefing with the President tomorrow at 0800 ET, followed by a press briefing at 0900."

"That's why Granderson didn't push," Tom said, a flash of pure fury pouring through him. "If Doctor Scott fails to appear for her scheduled briefing, Granderson will know that the cartel got her. She can claim that Slattery lied to her about what happened. But we have a bigger problem. Because if Rachel does appear..."

Pablo was the one to say the words. "Sasha and Kara are as good as dead."

Danny's hands hit the table. "We have to go now, Captain."

"Go where, Lieutenant?" Tom shot back, temper fraying.

After all, that was the issue, wasn't it? Everyone agreed that Andrade wouldn't have taken the risk of flying across the border, given the no-fly zone. Although taking a puddle jumper to the border, then crossing and picking up another flight was an option, it involved significant logistics — and even then, tracing a small plane was still a hell of a lot easier than a car. If Pablo was right, and Tom suspected that he was, the cartel would not want to take any risk with their human cargo. Meaning that, more likely than not, they would be driving and, most likely, heading directly to Mexico City and El Chapo himself.

In such a case, it would take at least twenty-two hours for the kidnappers to reach Mexico City, assuming the roads were passable, although Tom thought twenty-four was more likely assuming some breaks for food or toilets. Until then, there was simply no way of knowing which path the kidnappers would take, and they hardly had the manpower to put up blockades across every road south. No, they all knew that any rescue would have to be done in Mexico City, which is why the Nathan James was currently heading due south with the hope of getting within Seahawk range. Although arriving by helo would almost certainly be noticed and therefore not part of the plan, Tom wanted to have the option of an emergency ex-fil.

Taking a deep breath, Tom let his gaze roam the room, taking in the fear — and determination — on each face. "Talk to me, people. We need to buy ourselves twenty-four hours. I want to hear any idea, no matter how crazy."

"What we need," Benz spoke up, "is a distraction. Something big enough to bump the great Doctor Scott off primetime." Benz smiled suddenly. "And I know just the person to ask."

xxxxx

Tom leaned against the wall behind Danny, waiting while Val fiddled with the computer screen. "You should be connected."

"Green!" A familiar voice rang from the computer. Prince Karl Ferdinand glanced up, his eyes taking in Tom and Benz standing behind Danny. Despite it being approximately 3 am in Germany, Karl appeared wide-awake and was dressed in a button-down shirt. "And here I thought that you were deliberately avoiding me after we missed each other in Atlanta."

Danny didn't engage in any pleasantries. "I need a favor."

"Of course, my friend..." Karl began, only to be cut off.

"No, I need a favor," Danny continued, stressing the word. "Off-the-books. The kind that could get us all accused of treason."

A frown flickered across Karl's face, and then he focused on Tom. "Yet I see the Commander behind you. My friends tell me that he is, how shall I say this, known for following the straight-and-narrow?"

"Sasha would disagree, she says I'm a cowboy," Tom offered, not explaining more.

Karl's gaze returned to Danny, face now sober. "You saved my life in Khartoum. I owe you."

"I did my job in Khartoum," Danny replied shortly, while Tom tried to recall anything in either Sasha or Danny's file about the Darfur region. Apparently, that portion of the record had been redacted. "I don't want your gratitude."

Deciding to cut off whatever was going on between the two men, Tom cut Danny off. "Commander Cooper and Lieutenant Green's wife were taken captive by the Sinaloa cartel approximately five hours ago. We believe that the cartel mistakenly believes that Commander Cooper is Doctor Rachel Scott." Tom waited only long enough for the news to sink in. "Doctor Scott is scheduled to participate in a White House briefing tomorrow morning. If that goes forward ..."

Tom had to give it to the man, Karl wasn't slow. "And your government is not willing to call off the briefing?"

"Not without tipping off people we can't trust," Tom explained.

Karl nodded, focus moving back to Danny. "What do you want?"

Danny blew out a long breath. "I need you to cause an international incident big enough to bump Doctor Scott off the schedule and keep everyone distracted long enough for us to make the rescue."

"How long will you need?" Karl asked, face still impassive.

"Twenty-four hours," Danny replied.

Karl lifted an eyebrow. "And are there ... restrictions on this distraction?"

"You can nuke Paris for all I care," Danny said, his voice ice cold.

Tom jumped in. He might understand Danny's sentiment, but there was no need to commit mass-murder. "Do what you can without endangering life."

Karl nodded sharply. "Consider it done. And, Danny, if there is anything else you need, you merely have to call."

There was a pause, and then Danny nodded. "Thank you."

xxxxx

"Captain!"

Tom hesitated, only steps away from his cabin and escape, yet he knew that this conversation couldn't be avoided any longer. Drawing his shoulders back, Tom turned. "Yes, Doctor Scott?"

Rachel stopped several feet away, studying his face, and Tom wondered what she saw there. Memories of the day in the Arctic when the Russians attacked floated across his mind, recalling the way Rachel refused to tell him either why the Russians were there or what they wanted with Quincy Tophet. At the time, he remembered being furious with her, as well as Danny, for lying to him and allowing the deadliest virus known to humankind onto his ship. Yet, looking back now, Tom could see that his response was more shock and fear than true anger. That day was nothing compared to how he felt now, as though he could snap El Chapo's neck with his bare hands.

Rachel drew in a deep breath. "I want to go with you to Mexico."

"No." Tom didn't bother sugar-coating the answer.

"They were kidnapped because of me," Rachel threw back, her hands waving in the air, and a sheen of tears covering her eyes. "I never would have brought Kara with me to the stadium if I imagined this could happen. I could offer to take their place!"

"And then the cartel would have all three of you."

Behind Rachel, Tom saw Tex shift closer, a hand closing around Rachel's upper arm. Tom nodded curtly, hoping that Tex understood the silent message. Objectively, none of this was Rachel's fault. Her entire focus for the past six months had been on finding a cure for the virus, a laudable goal that in no way should have made her the target of a drug cartel. But guilt didn't work that way. All of the what-ifs that crawled into your brain.

What if he hadn't taken a half dozen operators with him to find Pablo? What if he had demanded Rachel stay on the ship? What if he listened to Sasha and stayed on the ship himself? What if, instead of finding Pablo, Tom went with Sasha and Rachel? What if he hadn't approved Kara's transfer to the CDC? What if, what if, what if...

Because the truth was that there was an answer to everyone one of those questions. The operation was green-lit based on the best available information — information that turned out to be incomplete.

And, because of that, Sasha might already be dead.

"Besides, we're jumping in," Tom said finally, offering as much of an olive branch that he could. "It's a high-altitude jump. It's too dangerous."

"If you won't let me go, at least take Tex with you," Rachel argued. "I hardly need a guard on the Nathan James and he knows more about Mexico City than anyone here."

Tom expected Tex to take his side. After all, there were dozens of ways for the cartel — or Granderson — to come after Rachel even on the Nathan James, and they both knew it. But the man surprised him. "She's right." Tex's eyes rose to meet Tom's. "Nathan James will be at EMCON once we hit Mexican waters. The XO will keep Rachel safe. But Danny-boy, he's going to need a babysitter to stop him from blowing this mission sky-high."

"What do you propose?" Tom asked, reluctantly conceding the point.

Tex grinned but, as earlier, there was no humor in his eyes. "I suggest that you drop me and Pablo off as close to Tampico as you can get us and let us perform a little magic."

Slowly, Tom nodded. "I'll see what we can do."

xxxxx

Taking a deep breath, Tom made the last call of the night from the privacy of his cabin, understanding that what he was about to ask was more than simply a favor. Worse, he didn't entirely trust the man he was about to call not to rat them all out to Amy Granderson. But as much as Tom and Mike brainstormed for hours, neither one of them could come up with a better way to get a team into Mexico City without tipping off the cartel.

They needed help, and their options were limited.

Tom waited while the call connected. "Commander Utt."

"Captain Chandler," Utt replied.

Tom took a deep breath. "I need a favor."