Do Or Die? 1

Chapter 1

PRESENT DAY

"Xin, is the target in sight?"

Xin inhaled sharply, fighting off a sneer that threatened to crack his quiet exterior. "Xie xie," Xin replied softly over the phone. He couldn't believe that Victor's harsh undertone had the power to stick needles into his composure. Nothing got past Xin's thick skin. "Tag him!" The commander's response was curt.

Xin clapped the cellphone shut and tapped it against his pursed lips. Sitting on a folding chair, off-center of the sparsely furnished room, he eyed the last of the exiting thugs with mild interest. Xin hailed him, inclining his head to encourage him to come near. The man hesitated, glanced back at the troop, and then quickly stepped forward to be addressed by his superior.

Xin covered the spot by pulling the man's jacket over the area and smiled. "Now, hurry along before they realize you're gone."

The man swallowed hard as he slowly gained his bearings coming out from under the strong trance. He felt sick as though he wanted to throw up, but he couldn't fathom the reason. He shrugged it off as just the intensity of the job at hand; for protecting the subject from attack would not be easy. He inhaled to calm himself. As he left the room, he almost gagged on the saliva that had accumulated in his mouth. He covered his mouth, coughing to clear his throat, and was shocked to see a spattering of blood in the palm of his hand. This confused him even further.

"Hey! Roger!" Looking up from his bloodied hand, he saw his teammate waving to him from the entrance.

I'm fine. No pain no gain, he thought as he rushed to meet up with the rest of the group. He ignored the slight twinge he felt in the side of his lower abdomen as he ran.

* * *

"How's your arm." Mat looked at Lincoln as he flexed his right arm open and closed. They both stood at the back of the group of men that would be engaged in battling Audrianna's abductors.

"Not a problem." Lincoln whispered back. A triple amputee, Lincoln wore special high quality bionic prosthetics that were grafted in aesthetically pleasing synthetic skin. His arm and legs looked and mimicked natural limbs. He had forsaken an integral doctor's visit to fix a categorical malfunction in his arm to be present for his Boss's meeting.The man who hailed him had short black hair and wore dark glasses,He wore a dark grey suit

Cory Broderick, the commander in charge of the operation, was in front of the group giving a briefing. The two aides listened in quietly. Corey finished the briefing and Lincoln called the officers to attention.

"I can't stress this hard enough guys," Lincoln circled the men seated in the room dressed in military fatigue. "This is a "No Fire" operation until specified otherwise. Understood?"

The men nodded emphatically in response.

"Good." Lincoln nodded in Broderick's direction.

Broderick looked over at Mr. Maxckmillian who was at the time taking a private call.

"The receiver has been placed," Viktor heard Xin say. He sighed as he disconnected the line on his cell and gazed at the members of his wife's security team. His eyebrow rose at Lincoln Huntington, his wife's personal aide, who was now in charge of the rescue mission to save her from the abductors.

"Zat it?" he asked in his heavily laden Russian accent.

Lincoln's reply was equally terse. "For the CPA meeting, for now- yes. We will act as soon as we have her coordinates."

"Khoroshiy." Viktor Maxckmillian swiveled the black ergonomic chair around to face the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the coastal city of Port-of-Spain. They had an all-encompassing view of the of the Gulf of Paria. The slashing, ominous waves, coupled with the encroaching mass of blackness in the sky that gave way to sparse strips of white light that barely touched the oceanic surface spoke of treacherous weather.

Viktor's act was as much of a dismissal as the group expected, and the fifteen military-trained men began leaving the regional office of Maxckcom International, located in the Eric Williams Financial Complex. As their steps receded, Viktor heard one steady, assured foot land beside his desk.

"That there be devil's weather." Matsenêstse King, Viktor's blond-haired, green-eyed Texan aide muttered under his breath. Mat had sharp, strong features and a square jaw that relaxed into an easy smile far too often. His hair was tapered short and neat.

Viktor's eyes slanted to his right. Hearing the door slam behind him, he turned his chair around. His dark blue eyes were guarded.

Lincoln stood by the door, clutching the knob. Viktor released a harsh sigh. "Something else..." Victor paused to think of the right words, "on your mind?" His eyebrow raised in query.

Lincoln released his tense grip on the knob to approach the thick, wide glass desk. He came closer, to stand before Viktor. Viktor relaxed in his seat and arched backward, casually folding his arms over his broad chest. He looked up at Lincoln's massive six-foot four-inch frame, whose shadow eclipsed Viktor's body. Lincoln's honey-colored eyes bored through Viktor's. Lincoln's strong jaw tensed. "Is there any phone call so important that you could ignore a briefing about your own wife's kidnapping?"

Viktor blanched, more from inner rage than embarrassment. He lowered his eyes, "You seem to have the matter under control."