by Kat Smith
In The
Valley
Of
Shadows
By
Kat Smith
In The Valley Of Shadows
© 2019 by Kat Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Editor: Tara Young
Cover: Kat Smith
For millennia, men and women have fought and died on battlefields across the globe for two fundamental principles—truth and freedom.
As men and women of the LGBTQ community, we fight each day for the freedom to live our truth. Many also fight another battle—the battle for the freedom to live their truth while serving in this country’s military.
Even though the prohibition was struck down by Congress in 2011, there are still silent underground crusades by some to discriminate. In fact, the current administration in July 2017 reversed a progressive policy decision, and as a result, the U.S. military will no longer “accept or allow” transgender people in its ranks.
As with all human rights battles in the U.S. such as the abolition of slavery in 1865, women’s right to vote in 1920, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and same-sex marriage in 2015, it often takes years or even decades to gain the freedoms that should be basic tenets of human existence.
It is my fervent prayer that one day, we will evolve to a higher level of humanity where we will all be allowed to live freely and truthfully in this country. A country founded by our forefathers on the basic principles of truth and freedom, and aptly named the UNITED States of America.
To all LGBTQ citizens of the world…
This book is dedicated to you.
Chapter One
CHARIKAR, AFGHANISTAN, 2018
Sweat mixed with sand rolled off Captain Devan Conner’s face as she led her team through a narrow alleyway of Charikar, Afghanistan. At five-seven, she was regularly underestimated by those who didn’t know her. Her petite frame topped with short cropped hair of brown with gold streaks that sat just above her collar reminded most of a harmless woman. Deep blue eyes set above chiseled cheekbones and full lips exuded a female sexuality that gave pause to many men and women alike.
She might have looked like a pushover, but beneath the uniform, she was muscle, all one hundred thirty-five pounds of her. She could hold her own against almost anyone, and she’d proven it countless times. On base, her reputation preceded her, and rarely did she have to use that brute strength. She could stop a bull of a man in his tracks with a single piercing blue glance.
Her team consisted of seven specialists who were currently in the middle of an operation gone wrong. The low single-story mud houses provided cover as they raced to the landing zone beyond the boundaries of the city. She slung up a fist to stop their progress at the end of the alley. The helo, their escape, should be in sight, but as she scanned the sky, all she saw were stars in the vast blackness of night. She turned to her communications sergeant. “Where the fuck is the helo?”
Communications Sergeant Hank Ward was a lanky man at six-two and double her weight. His baby face was wrought with fear as he hunkered against a building and shouted their coordinates into the radio.
Devan scanned the rooftops looking for snipers. “Get us the fuck out of here, Ward. NOW!” She eyed Lieutenant Alex Sheridan, grabbed her by the collar, and slammed her against the wall. “Sheridan, when I say move, You. Fucking. Move.”
Alex resisted. “I wasn’t finished with the upload.”
Devan’s face drew within millimeters of Alex’s. “You’re done when I goddamn say you’re done, soldier.” She shoved her forward just as the helo swung in low and landed in a sandy area thirty yards from their position.
When a bullet ricocheted off the wall beside Alex’s head, Devan shoved Alex to the ground, then rolled, aimed her M4 carbine and fired. An Afghan male fell, head first, from the adjacent roof and into the alleyway twenty feet away. She scanned the buildings for other assailants, then moved her team forward. “Alligood, with me. Everyone else to the helo. We’ll lay cover.”
The soldiers zigzagged as they raced through the sandstorm kicked up by the rotors. Devan lay down cover as they ran for the helo, then followed on the heels of her Medical Sergeant Jimmy Alligood. Bullets thudded and kicked up sand around their feet as they raced forward. Suddenly, Sergeant Carey Moore grabbed his neck and dropped to the sand. Devan reached him seconds later as a fountain of blood spurted between his dirty fingers. She dropped to her knees beside him, pressed her hand against the wound, and watched helplessly as the life drained from his eyes.
Alligood turned back, and together they grabbed the collar of Moore’s uniform and hauled him to the helo. She climbed in as Sergeant Peter Johnson returned fire from the mounted heavy machine gun. Bullets pinged off the side of the helo as it swiftly rose and banked into the darkness.
Alligood, the team medic, knelt beside his fellow soldier and pressed a finger to the side of his neck, then sat back on his heels and shook his head. “He’s gone, Captain.”
Devan slammed her fist into the side of the helo, her fury barely contained. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She searched the helo bay until she spotted Alex, a computer wizard assigned to Devan’s unit specifically for this mission. She jabbed a finger into her chest. “This is on you, Sheridan. This is your fucking fault. Moore is dead because of you, because you can’t follow a simple fucking order.”
The accusation was harsh, and tears brimmed in Alex’s eyes as she collapsed against the side wall of the helo. The other soldiers flicked nervous glances between Alex and their captain and knew to stay silent. Sergeant Lena Taylor, Devan’s second in command, dropped a hand on Devan’s shoulder. “Captain.” Devan sat back and reached out to hold the hand of her fallen comrade as they soared through the night sky. There would be time for reprimands once they were back at base.
Chapter Two
FORT MEADE ARMY BASE, AUGUST 2020
Devan drove her Jeep down Annapolis Road along the perimeter of Fort George G. Meade, twenty miles north of Washington, D.C. She was still shaking off the jetlag from the long flight home in the belly of a C-17 and tipped her head back to enjoy the warm sun on her face and inhale the crisp clean air of early late summer.
She rolled to a stop at the guard house and passed her ID badge through the window to the security guard. Without a word, his gaze flicked from the badge to Devan and back to the badge. With a slight tip of his head to another guard inside the hut, he returned the badge. “Morning, Captain.”
She tossed the badge into the passenger seat and nodded back at the stone-faced guard. “Morning.” She waited as the gate lifted.
Twenty-four hours earlier, she’d been halfway around the globe in Sierra Leone on a covert mission, now she was on her way to meet with Lieutenant Colonel Mara Morrissey for a debriefing. She ran the facts through her head as she drove, knowing the colonel wouldn’t tolerate a single error in her report.
Colonel Morrissey was an elegant woman. At fifty-three, if the rank and uniform didn’t command respect, her no-nonsense expression could with a single glance. She was a born-and-raised Army brat. Her father and his father before him had traveled the world in service to their country. Her father had yearned to have a son follow in his footsteps, but complications during Mara’s birth put an end to more children. He’d
held a silent grudge against Mara, blaming her for a lack of a son, and she knew his love toward her was miniscule if it existed at all.
In an all-out effort to make him proud, she’d become an overachiever, acing her academics, sports, anything he threw her way. She would have done anything to make him proud, even join the Army. It started as a way to prove to her father that she was just as capable as a son and worthy of his pride. She’d worked hard, trained hard, and did everything right and was on the fast track up the ranks.
Her only mistake was falling for a man eight years her senior, Captain Jeffrey Morrissey, a man much like her father in temperament and expectations. He was recently divorced, and their romance had been fast and furious. But within six months, he’d received orders to deploy to Afghanistan. She’d been devastated to know he would be away for two years so early in their relationship. They’d spent every possible minute together, savoring every moment, and married two days before his deployment. Six weeks later, she’d discovered she was pregnant.
Mara had done what many women did at that age, in that generation. She left the Army to raise her daughter, maintain a home for her family, and wait on Jeffrey’s return. She’d been miserable but played the hand she was dealt, much to her father’s disappointment.
On a visit home for a long weekend over Labor Day with her infant daughter, he’d stood over her in a drunken rage. “If you’d been the boy I wanted, you’d still be in the Army and maybe one day you’d have done something to make me not regret marrying your mother.” She’d sat, rocking her baby, and taken the abuse. “You couldn’t even have a grandson for me—had to be another fucking worthless girl.” She’d left the next day vowing to never return.
Ten months later, an Army chaplain appeared at her door on an early morning in July 1993. As she stood in the doorway with her daughter propped on her hip, the chaplain informed her that Jeffrey had been killed in an explosion during a covert mission in Sierra Leone. All she could focus on were the specks of the early morning dew spotting the high polish of his shoes.
The days following her husband’s death had been a blur. In shock, she’d blindly followed the directions of the chaplain and the Army personnel assigned to walk her through the process. There was nothing left of her husband to bury, so she’d opted out of the routine memorial service. It was just as well as there were no family or friends to invite. The only thing she truly comprehended was that she was alone. All alone with an infant daughter to raise by herself in a world that scarcely noticed, rarely blinked anymore when a soldier died in the sands of a foreign land.
She’d taken the death benefit money offered by the military and sold off the house and property in Vermont she’d inherited. Jeffrey had had a sizable savings account and a generous life insurance policy. Once she’d liquidated everything, half went into a savings account for her daughter, and she’d invested the rest. Then she re-enlisted in the Army.
Years later, when she made the rank of major, a rank higher than her father had ever achieved, he’d still refused to tell her he was proud. It was then that she decided the Army, the men and women she served alongside, were her family. She was tough but fair, and she had a soft spot for the females who served under her command. She knew from experience how difficult military life could be, and the soldiers who showed promise were nurtured and encouraged. One of her favorites was Captain Devan Conner, a spunky, by-the-book soldier who was the leader of her best special operations team.
When Devan reached the Command Center, she trolled for an empty slot among the sea of vehicles in the car park. She finally found one on the far edge of the lot and quickly positioned the cover on her head, crossed the black asphalt lot, ascended the steps, and entered the building through huge glass doors.
The building was a typical administration building. Walls the color of sand, the military’s current favorite color, and floors covered with utilitarian tile.
She paused just inside the building, removed her cover, and walked to a long desk on the far wall with uniform-clad soldiers manning a bank of phones and computers. She stated her business and signed in. Her boots thudded on the shiny floor as she made her way to a bank of elevators on the north side of the atrium.
Although she’d never admit it, elevators made her nervous. She focused on the blinking numbers above the door and tried not to think of being closed inside a moving metal box with no way out. She released a breath when the doors opened on the third floor, and she stepped out quickly and made a sharp left down the hallway to the colonel’s office. When she entered, Sergeant Maggie Hughes, Mara’s aide-de-camp, a stern, no-nonsense woman known to guard the colonel’s office like it was Fort Knox, greeted her warmly. “Welcome home, Captain.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. It’s good to be back.” She tipped her head toward the colonel’s door. “I have an appointment with the colonel.”
“Yes, they’re expecting you, Captain. The meeting is in conference room three, just down the hall on your right.”
“They? I thought I was here for a mission debriefing.”
Maggie simply smiled, giving nothing away. “You can go right in.”
On the far wall of the conference room, the U.S. Army logo bounced around the screen of a large monitor. Beneath it, three women sat around a long oval table in hushed conversation.
Dressed in a dark business suit that complemented her steel blue eyes, Integrated Cyber Command Operations Director Payton Cardina chuckled. Her silky blond hair fell loosely just below her shoulders and caressed an aesthetic face of silky-smooth skin offset by sharp cheekbones. She didn’t look her fifty years, and when she spoke, many were surprised to hear an Australian accent in an alto voice that caressed the listener like warm molasses.
The daughter of a diplomat stationed in Australia, Payton had spent her formative years in the company of Aussies and had naturally adopted the distinctive accent, one she still spoke all these years later.
Beside her, Lieutenant Colonel Mara Morrissey sat in her Army combat uniform. Her short cropped white hair accentuated a long sleek neck that rose out of strong shoulders. On the far side of the table sat Devan’s former lieutenant, Alex Sheridan. Her hair was a deep red, the color of wine, and framed an alabaster face emphasized with green cat eyes. Her full lips were pursed as she focused on the laptop screen in front of her.
Alex now worked under Payton at the new Integrated Cyber Command Center on the opposite end of the base. They were here in the sterile conference room because the ICC and her special operations team had been selected for a joint two-pronged mission.
As they waited for Devan, Mara and Payton casually chatted while Alex set up the presentation. Mara looked over at Alex with a cautious smile. “Are you ready for this, Lieutenant?”
Alex didn’t look up from the laptop. “Yep, I’m good, Colonel.”
Payton turned toward Mara with a concerned look. “Are you sure this is the best option?”
“No doubt she’ll push back.” Mara released a long breath. “However, she commands the best team I have, the only team I trust with this particular manifest.”
Alex spoke without looking up, “Oh, please, she’s all bark and no bite.”
Payton tried to stifle a laugh. “You’d know.”
Alex’s head snapped up, and she playfully backhanded Payton’s arm. “What do you mean by that?”
The laughter abruptly died when the phone rang. Mara answered, “Yes…thank you.” She gave Alex a warning look. “Behave yourself.”
Devan pulled open the door and stepped over the threshold. “Colonel, I apologize…” Devan’s gaze locked onto Alex, and she froze. The only sound in the room was the air escaping the hydraulic door closer, followed by a soft thump as it shut. “…for the delay.”
“Come in, Captain.” Mara pulled out the chair next to hers. “Have a seat.”
Devan silently walked the length of the room and sat beside the colonel. Across the table, Alex lifted her chin in defiance, daring Devan to object.
“Welcome back.” Mara ignored the glare between Alex and Devan.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Devan’s gaze remained steadfastly on Alex.
Mara gestured to Payton. “I believe you know ICC Operations Director Payton Cardina.”
Devan tore her glare away to tip her head toward Payton. “Director.”
Mara continued, “And you know Alex, Director Cardina’s senior cyber operations analyst.”
Alex ignored the scowl and silence from Devan and turned toward Payton. “Ready whenever you are, Director.”
Payton flicked a glance at Mara, then swiveled her chair to face the wall monitor just as a map of Russia appeared. “Since 2015, the U.S. military has co-occupied the Vaziani Military Base in the Republic of Georgia. The CIA recently discovered a plot by a cell of Russian radical militants to attack this base with the intent to incite a minority of Georgians who protest the U.S. presence in their country.”
She turned back toward the group. “However, we at the ICC believe this is actually a ploy by the Russian government to provide an opportunity for their military forces to, once again, move into the disputed north Georgian territories of Abkhazia and South Ossetia. Georgia and Russia claim these territories as their own and have over the years neared war over them.”
She stood and stepped to the monitor. “Georgia is the third-largest contributor of forces in Afghanistan. If Georgian and U.S. forces are recalled back to Georgia to protect the Vaziani base, it will leave forces in Afghanistan weakened and susceptible to ISIS attacks. Neither scenario is palatable to the administration, so it’s imperative that we thwart this rebel attack before it starts.”
Alex punched a button on the keyboard, and the image on the screen changed to a detailed map encompassing Georgia and Russia.
Payton continued, “The CIA has had an operative in the area for over a year, and he successfully infiltrated this group. He has been providing information concerning the plans and movements of the rebels. However, he believes his cover has recently been compromised, which is why we’re here today. We need your team to go in and recover the operative.”