by Kat Smith
He’d accepted the name proudly, knowing that he was now a part of a larger team―a higher calling. She’d never forget the year she gave him a bouquet of daisies for his birthday as a joke. His brow furrowed and his face contorted into a scowl a second before his face exploded in a wide toothy grin. He’d then proceeded to pick her up, swing her around, and vaporized any sense of dignity she’d possessed.
The third player in the nuts and pretzel poker championship was Weapons Sergeant Peter Johnson, a force of his own. His pock-marked face had been the butt of many jokes during his hormone-ravaged teen years. He’d fought his way through junior high school but found himself pounded to the ground all too often when he entered high school and came up against bigger and crueler kids.
Unable to control the flashing anger, his parents had given up and finally sent him to one of those military-style camps that claimed to turn rotten spoiled kids around. He quickly learned that it was nothing more than a new type of bullying―this time bullying dealt out by adults. He’d managed to survive and celebrated his eighteenth birthday by joining the Army. He figured if he was going to be bullied, beaten down, and degraded daily, he might as well get paid for it.
Devan had seen the diamond beneath the rough-and-tumble exterior and attitude. She’d taken him under her wing, shown him respect when he earned it, kicked his ass when he didn’t, and with time watched as he righted and settled into a man, a damn good man. They’d formed a friendship that she knew would last a lifetime, and she was honored to serve beside him.
As she looked around the cargo plane, a sadness―a still fresh grief―rolled in her gut. Sergeant Carey Moore was absent, would never be with them again. She was deep in thought, reliving that hot dark night in Charikar when Alex sat beside her. “Hey. You look pensive.”
Devan turned and gave Alex a tender smile. “Hey.”
Alex searched Devan’s face for a clue. “You’re very quiet. What’s bothering you?”
Devan shrugged. “Nothing’s bothering me. I’m fine. Just going over the mission in my head.”
Alex sat back into the cargo net seat. “You’re nervous. Is it the mission or me?”
She gave Alex an irritated look. “It’s not you. It’s just a gut feeling about this mission. I don’t trust this operative, and I sure as hell don’t trust the CIA.” She tipped her head back and stretched her neck.
“Your gut is usually right.” Alex wanted to reach over and hold Devan’s hand but knew she couldn’t. “Is there something specific that’s troubling you?”
Devan huffed out a breath. “I don’t know. This guy infiltrated the Russian rebel group, then was careless enough to get himself busted.” She raked a hand through her hair. “I can’t say I have a lot of confidence in his ability to drive across the country and know whether or not he has a tail on him.”
“So, it isn’t me?” Alex questioned.
Devan smiled. “No, it isn’t you. I’m concerned about the amount of time we’ll be on the ground. It makes us vulnerable, but that’s not on you. We’ll just have to be assiduous and keep alert.”
Alex scanned the cargo bay. Assured that no one was watching, she gently pressed her hand to Devan’s. “I’ll work as fast as I can, I promise.”
“I know you will. It isn’t you, I promise. Something just feels off, and I can’t put my finger on it.”
The safehouse had been vacant when Jacob arrived. He’d unpacked his car and stowed the sensitive items out of sight and didn’t go back outside.
He was at a desk in the dark bedroom studying the map on his laptop when a knock on the kitchen door shredded the silence. He quickly closed the laptop, looked around the room for anything he may have missed, and walked to the door. He cracked it an inch and saw a woman, the neighbor he assumed, looking back at him.
Teona Revazov smiled at him through the crack in the door. He pulled the door open wider and returned the smile. “You must be Teona.”
She spoke broken English with a heavy Russian accent but well enough he could understand her. “Hello, Jacob. Christopher told me to take good care of you. I have cooked solyanka. Would you like?”
He was famished. “Solyanka? Yes, it’s a favorite of mine.”
She turned back into the kitchen and gestured toward the small table. “Very good. Come.”
An hour later, Jacob leaned back in his chair and patted his bulging stomach. Surely, that’s a universal language, he thought. “The meal was delicious. Thank you.”
Teona picked up the bottle of wine. “You are welcome. Would you like wine?”
He lifted his glass. “Yes, thank you.” He then dropped the legs of his chair to the floor and swirled his wine. “Christopher tells me you’re a nurse.”
She lifted her chin in pride. “Yes, I work at hospital. My mother was nurse. We move to Makhachkala after my father dead, and I go to school.”
Even though she seemed friendly enough, he still had the mind of a CIA operative. “Does your mother still live with you?”
Teona dipped her head, and her voice took on a tone of sadness. “No, she die of pneumonia last year. I now am alone. Christopher come often, so it is not too very lonely.”
“You and Christopher are dating?”
She flushed with embarrassment and giggled. “No, no. Christopher is good friend.”
He studied her and thought if Christopher didn’t want her, maybe he could make this miserable trip a bit more bearable. “A pretty woman like you must have a boyfriend.”
Now she was blushing. “No.” She changed the subject. “I have sweet bread. You want?”
“Sure.” He leaned back, tipped the front legs off the floor, and watched as she bent over to remove the bread from the oven. “Yes, ma’am, I sure do want.”
Everyone’s spirits picked up when the cargo plane finally landed at Vaziani Military Base in the Republic of Georgia. Devan, Alex, and Lena were the first in the door of the barracks and made a beeline for the bunks closest to the bathroom. Even though the men scowled, Devan liked the co-ed setup of the barracks. “No whining. We’re a team and will live like one. You have a problem with that, keep it to yourself. Better yet, sleep outside.”
She could have scored a private single for herself or a triple, but she wanted to keep the team close, wanted to keep an eye out for any signs of nerves or apprehension about the mission. They all slept alongside one another in the field; there was no reason they couldn’t bunk together in the barracks on a nice comfy bunk while they were on base.
Hank tossed his rucksack on a bottom bunk and complained, “You women always have to get the bathroom first.”
Lena laughed. “Ya snooze, ya lose, Ward. Don’t be such a baby. You’ll still get time to admire your pretty little face in the mirror.”
Alex chimed in. “Just remember to lower the toilet seat when you’re done.”
Jimmy countered, “Maybe you females should raise it back up when you’re done.”
Devan felt the throbbing thump of a headache starting behind her eye. “Enough.” She tossed her rucksack on the bunk. “Christ, sometimes you’re just like children.”
Devan had a good team. They all got along, except for an occasional spat that usually ended in a truce and a lot of beer drinking at the Double Tap. “Our chow slot is in thirty, so get your crap settled and get to the chow hall.”
Later that evening, the team sat at a cluster of wooden tables tucked under camouflaged netting just outside the barracks. The meal had been good, and the team ate with gusto knowing it may be their last decent dinner for a few days. Devan was full and jetlagged and looking forward to hitting the bunk early.
Alex sat on the opposite side of the table massaging an area behind her ear.
“Hey, Jimmy, do you have anything in your bag for an earache?” Devan asked.
He cast a concerned look her way and stood. “Sure, Captain. Are you getting sick?”
She tipped her head toward Alex. “Not me. For the lieutenant. She’s got an earache.�
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Alex looked over and smiled at Devan, pleased that she’d remembered the ailment that often dogged her after a flight. “Flying always does that to me.”
He nodded and turned. “Be right back, Lieutenant.”
Devan waited until Jimmy was out of sight, then leaned toward Alex. “You sure it’s just from flying? After you ran in the rain the other night, you could be coming down with a cold.”
Alex shot Devan a sidelong look. “I’m fine, Dev…Captain.”
Jimmy reappeared and handed the aspirin to Alex. “Here ya go, Lieutenant.” Always the concerned doctor, he pressed his hand to her forehead. “No temp. Let me know if it gets worse.”
“I will.” She popped the pills into her mouth and washed them down with a swig of water. “Thanks, Doc.”
She then turned to Devan and smirked. “I told you.”
She raised her hands in surrender. “Hey, it’s my job.”
“Really?” Alex feigned annoyance and leaned closer. “And here I thought you were concerned for my well-being.”
Devan opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. “I can’t win. I just can’t win.”
Randell walked to the group with a wide grin. He’d scored a basketball from the recreation room and set it spinning on his finger. “I need three more players. Who wants to challenge the flyboy team to a pickup game?”
Hank, Jimmy, and Peter were instantly on their feet. Jimmy smacked Randell on the back. “Bet they don’t have a bull like you on the team.”
Peter laughed. “We’ll kick their sandy asses.” He tapped a finger on his chin in thought, then turned to Jimmy. “Are there spiders in this godforsaken country?”
When Randell stopped in his tracks and turned back to the barracks, Jimmy and Peter grabbed on to each of his massive arms and tugged him along.
As the huge man dug his feet into the sand, Peter pleaded, “Come on, Daisy. I was just kidding.” He looked at Jimmy and Hank for help, but they just shook their heads. “Really, there’s no spiders here. The Army eradicated them when they took over the base.”
Randell stopped, bent down, and looked Peter in the eye. “If I so much as see a spider, I’ll break you in half. Got it?”
Peter nodded solemnly. “Got it.”
Hank grabbed the ball and dribbled off in the direction of the makeshift basketball court. “Johnson, one day, you’re going to learn the hard way not to taunt Daisy the bull.”
Lena was stretched out in a hammock reading a book but had kept an eye on Devan and Alex. She’d noticed a difference between them during the long flight. There was an easy comfort between them now. They were talking, laughing even, and it felt like old times. There was no privacy in the barracks, so she decided to get out of the way and give them a few minutes to themselves. She rolled out of the netting. “That trip was a kick in the ass. I’m going to read for a while, then hit the bunk.” She turned and said, “See you in the morning,” then disappeared into the barracks.
Alex and Devan called out in unison, “Good night, Taylor.”
Devan turned back to Alex. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything. You know flying does this to me. Remember Cancun?”
Devan’s voice was toned with concern. “I’m just worried about you. You’ve been through a lot the last few days.”
Alex saw the genuine concern and eased up. “I’m fine. Really.” She drank the last of her water and got up to get another out of the cooler. “Yes, I was sucker-punched when Parker died. It hurt…and will hurt for a long time.” She looked at Devan and lowered her voice “But at the risk of sounding heartless and callous, the last three days have made me deliriously happy.”
A deep blush crept into Devan’s cheeks. “Me too.” She looked around and slyly caressed the top of Alex’s hand with her index finger. “This mission can’t be over too soon.” She sighed heavily. “I wish we could find a spot to hide for a few minutes.”
“Well, I saw a stack of shipping containers in the back corner.” She grinned and lifted her brows in a seductive question. “It’s not very dark back there, though.”
Devan tipped back a can of Pepsi and drank. “You’re killing me.” She raked a hand through her hair. “We gotta talk about something else.”
Alex laughed deeply. “Okay. Have it your way.”
“Tell me about this software program you’re so excited about.”
Alex gave Devan an apologetic look. “Dev, you know I can’t. It’s classified.”
“I’m not asking for the keys to the kingdom, just the whatever…the highlights of it.”
What could it hurt? she thought. Devan could barely balance her checkbook. She certainly wouldn’t understand the complexities of the new program. “I have to say it’s my best work thus far.”
“Confident, are you?” Devan laughed.
“Yes. It’s one of my gifts,” Alex said smugly.
“And you have many gifts.”
Alex smirked. “It took me over a year to write it.”
Devan could see Alex’s eyes brighten as she talked about her programming, what she was born to do. She loved it, and it showed.
Alex did a little wiggle in her seat. “Well, the program is sort of like…”
Alex rambled on for half an hour, and Devan listened until her eyes glazed over. “What happens to the data you collect? Does it just sit there forever?”
Alex shrugged. “The big bosses are still working that out, but regardless, we’re not interested in invading people’s privacy. We just want to get the information we need to stop the next terrorist attack.”
“Interesting.” Devan had issues with the notion that the NSA felt it was entitled to snoop through private citizens’ data. Personal emails, chats, and even the more private thoughts in a teenage girl’s cyber diary and Mom and Dad’s journals were fair game. However, she’d seen firsthand the results of what happened when the clues were missed and some crazy-ass terrorist decided to blow up the local mall.
Alex saw the gears spinning in Devan’s head. “Back in the Snowden era, when a program was deployed to migrate throughout a network, we would have thousands upon thousands of terabytes of information to sift through. It was like searching for a needle in a haystack. It just wasn’t feasible, and ninety percent of it was useless to us.” She stopped and looked at Devan. “You do know who Edward Snowden is, right? He was the guy who released tens of thousands of classified documents to the press back in 2012 or ’13.”
At Devan’s uncertain nod, Alex continued. “Well, with our new technology, we can switch the program on and off as we see fit. We’re not interested in some pervert watching porn flicks in his basement, someone looking up recipes on the internet, or someone emailing their secret lover. We don’t care about some kid playing online games and smack talking to his opponent. However, if that kid starts chatting about shooting up a school, or some dude starts talking about building a bomb and blowing up the local mall, we’ll be able to easily access that information based on the keywords we program in for a search. That way, we only get information we’re interested in.”
“So, you’re targeting specific computers, like this radical group who wants to start a war between the Republic of Georgia and Russia. But what if you stumble onto one of those computers in an internet café and they’re sending suspect emails and such?”
She’s catching on, Alex thought. “The algorithm looks for predetermined patterns. As long as the computer isn’t powered off, it’s working in the background. It looks for things like an email with locations, times, numbers, or repeated information. Look at it this way.”
She pulled a notepad from her back pocket and drew a diagram. “If this computer sends a file that includes a location and time to another computer over here, then later that computer sends it back with new info or maybe even to someone else, the algorithm will log those contacts.”
“That could be an innoc
ent email about a backyard barbecue.” Devan was still having a problem the NSA or ICC indiscriminately capturing data of private citizens’ computers.
“It looks for things like file numbers, bank account numbers, email addresses, phone numbers, or attachments with unusual phrases and such. We can virtually update the algorithm with new keywords as an investigation moves forward. We’re no longer tied to the instructions initially programmed inside the virus itself.”
Devan scrubbed her face. “All this has given me a headache. I could never understand it, but it sounds like you really like your job.”
“I really do. I feel like I’m finally making a difference. That’s why this mission is so important to me. This could be a huge breakthrough, and I get to be on the front lines.”
Alex stood and picked up her bottle of water. “Enough shoptalk.” She gave Devan a sly look. “I think I saw something suspicious over by those shipping containers.” She shot for a serious expression. “I think we should go check it out.”
A pillow flew through the air and hit Randell square in the face. Hank barked, “Turn over, Washington. You sound like a fucking freight train.”
Devan lay in her bunk wishing she’d taken the option for a triple bunk. Alex snored, but it was a cute snore. She rolled out of the bunk and padded barefoot to the bathroom in her sports bra and a pair of shorts. At least she’d have some privacy in the middle of the night, she pondered.
She looked in the mirror and studied the faint lines on her face. Since returning from Somalia the previous year, she felt older; now, she thought, she looked older. She planned on getting Alex to take some time off once the mission was over. Maybe they could go back to Cancun, or better yet, take a couple of weeks to cruise the Caribbean. She nodded to her reflection and made a note to put together a plan.
She’d just stepped back into the main barracks when a scrawny private rushed into the barracks and shouted, “Hello, hello.”
Johnson was instantly awake and reacted out of pure instinct. He hit the private in a run. His hand circled the kid’s neck in a death grip, toes dangling off the floor before he realized where they were. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Private?”