Contents
Title Page
Copyright Information
Book Description
Dedication
Watch Verse
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
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7
8
9
10
11
12
13
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A Word from the Characters
About the Author
Thank You
Acknowledgements
The Athena File
Jennifer Haynie
Copyright © 2016 Jennifer M. Haynie
Published under the On-the-Edge Publications Imprint
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author, except for brief quotations in printed reviews.
The persons and events portrayed in this work are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Use of NIV falls under the gratis guidelines found at http://www.harpercollinschristian.com/permissions/. Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™
Cover design by Indie Designz, http://www.indiedesignz.com.
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-943398-04-1
“The Athena File spans the globe, taking you deep inside flawed characters as they wrestle with betrayal and events from the past. A story you won’t soon forget!” —Rich Bullock, award-winning author of Shattered Glass
April 2009. Ghazni Province, Afghanistan. A Taliban ambush annihilates a village and an embedded Special Forces team. Two soldiers and an Afghan teenaged girl survive. Abigail Ward, a Criminal Investigations Command officer, investigates the incident. Then the girl disappears.
Seven years later, trouble again finds Abigail when gunrunners kidnap her brother, Jonathan, after he steals from them a jump drive containing a computer file called Athena. To find him, she seeks the help of David Shepherd, Jonathan’s best friend from his Special Forces days.
Problem is, David wants nothing to do with her. A recovered addict, he blames Jonathan for his two-year homeless stint. For him, helping the sister of the man he despises means leaving the safety and security of his Utah hometown.
The danger intensifies when Abigail discovers the existence of the Athena file and the presence of a woman eavesdropper. Who is she? Is there a link to Jonathan’s past and her?
Time begins to run out for her brother. Abigail must learn to trust David with her life and tangled issues from her past. As they draw closer together, the events that began half a world away may have the power to destroy them both.
For the veterans who served in Iraq and Afghanistan and have been forever changed. Thank you.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
—Jeremiah 29:11-13
Camp Romeo, Ghazni Province, Afghanistan
April 2009
“Captain Ward-Bocelli, I need you to come with me.”
Abigail jumped at Major Ray Watson’s baritone voice that pierced the silence of the small room she called an office. She whipped around. “Sir?”
Their host at Camp Romeo had already turned away.
“What did I just see?” Bryson Bishop, her sergeant, stared after him. “I don’t get it. What is it?”
Her gaze flew to the e-mail message that had landed in her in-box seconds earlier. The subject line told her enough.
Extension of Assignment to Camp Romeo.
“Trouble.” She slapped shut the lid of her Panasonic Toughbook, grabbed her patrol cap, and stuffed it on her head as she bolted into the hall. She ran to catch up to the major. “Sir, you want to tell me what’s happening?”
“Bad stuff.” He pushed through the door.
Abigail grabbed it to keep it from hitting in her face. “As in?”
“An SF team got hit at a village fifty klicks from here.” He clipped his words as he strode toward the eastern end of the camp.
Even at her five-foot, ten-inch height, Abigail hustled to keep up. “Casualties?”
“Ten. Plus who knows how many locals. A real massacre.” The major swore. “And it sounds like you drew the short straw to figure out what went down.”
Her mind flashed to the orders she’d received but not had a chance to read. “Sir?”
“I got word from your CO. Looks like you’ll be our guest for at least a few more days.”
Oh, great. Just what she needed. Camp suspicion still hit high on the wariness scale after she and Bryson had investigated a soldier who’d gunned down an unsuspecting local. Being a part of the Army’s Criminal Investigation Command, better known as CID, tended to engender distrust among the rest of the Army. She ground her teeth. “We’ll do what we can, sir. Where was the SF team based?”
“Kandahar.” He bit off that word. His pace kicked up dust on the dirt road.
Jonathan.
Her brother’s name slid unbidden through her mind. As a Green Beret, he’d been in-country for almost a year, but he hadn’t ever shared where. But he wasn’t anywhere near here. Was he?
They slowed as they approached the eastern end of the camp with its airstrip for transporting supplies, personnel, and prisoners.
Next to the scarred concrete stood a series of tents. The combat support hospital. Crucial to any location near an active theater of operations.
Abigail almost laughed at that. Where in Afghanistan wasn’t a field of operations?
She jumped as the doors to the nearest tent banged open. Two nurses sprinted down the walkway to the edge of the strip with a gurney between them.
Even now, the deep thump of rotor blades throbbed a bass rhythm. She peered through the midday glare that her sunglasses barely shielded. To the east, four shapes materialized in the washed-out blue. They rapidly grew. Two Black Hawk Medevac helicopters and two Apache attack helicopters. The Apaches peeled off, most likely headed back to the scene of the attack. The two Black Hawks landed. Abigail winced as their rotor wash sent dust and sand whirling into the air.
The nurses darted forward and ducked under the still-spinning blades as the side door to the nearest Black Hawk slid open. The engine cut off. A crewman hopped onto the tarmac, holding an IV bag over his head. He bent low and shouted something to the nurses.
Someone else leapt from the bay.
He looked familiar.
Careful to avoid the blades, Abigail drew closer.
Dirt streaked the newcomer’s face. So did something else. Blood? He wore
his beard long, almost to the point of shaggy, most likely as a way to gain rapport with the locals. He held the hand of the man on the gurney and bent close over him as he said something.
Abigail gaped at the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around the victim’s left leg. Another bandage encircled his neck. God, please…
The nurse said something to the injured soldier’s buddy. Gently, she pried his hand away. She and her colleague hustled toward the CSH with the gurney rattling between them.
His friend hung his head and swept his hands through disheveled sandy blond hair.
That one gesture connected it for her.
Jonathan.
Her brother stood before her.
She opened her mouth to shout to him, but it remained locked in her throat.
Jonathan! Her cry echoed in her soul. Heart racing, she tried again. “Jonathan!”
She rushed toward him.
His head snapped up. His eyes, a clear green now reddened by dust and emotion, widened. “Abigail?”
She ran to him and threw her arms around him. He clung to her as he shook from head to toe.
“What…what are you doing here?” he finally gasped.
“An investigation. Your friend.” She stared in the direction of the CSH.
“David.”
She whipped around. “David Shepherd?”
He looked away.
Now that the helicopter blades had stilled, the sound of quiet weeping reached her.
A young woman crouched in the open doorway. She wore a torn uniform of some sort that was streaked in gray and mottled brown. Her headscarf had slipped down enough to reveal a streak of raven black. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth as if catatonic.
Jonathan extended his hands and said something in Pashto. Whatever platitudes he murmured seemed to work because she finally uncoiled from her crouch and allowed him to help her from the chopper. The mewling continued.
Abigail’s heart pounded. “What’s going on?”
“This is Nabeelah,” her brother said. He refused to relinquish his grip on the girl. “She needs to get checked out.”
“So do you.”
Someone nudged Abigail aside. “I’m Major Ray Watson.” The major forced himself into their small group. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll get you to the hospital. Captain Ward-Bocelli, it seems as if you two know each other.”
“He’s my brother, Sergeant First Class Jonathan Ward.” A lump in her throat overtook her.
“Then I suggest you join us.” Without another word, the major turned on his heel and gestured for Jonathan and Nabeelah to head toward the CSH.
Abigail remained rooted to her little spot of tarmac, gaping at them as they walked away.
“Abigail?” Bryson’s voice reached her as if from a distance. “Wait, is that why we got orders extending our stay here?”
“Yep.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Sounds like the boys at the Pentagon want to know exactly what happened.”
Camp Romeo, Ghazni Province, Afghanistan
Abigail hunched over the desk in the closet-sized office that was now her home away from home for another few days. Nothing broke the stillness. No chatter. No laughter. No nothing. She flipped the pages of her tablet as she reviewed the notes she’d made while debriefing Nabeelah Khan. In the silence, the noise sounded like she wadded up a ton of newspaper.
The young woman had crossed the fine line between deeply grieving and inconsolable. Throughout their two hours together, she’d barely been able to string together a sentence of somewhat comprehensible English before lapsing into weeping again. Well, who wouldn’t be that way after losing all of her family, including her beloved father? Not to mention friends and comrades. And seeing David Shepherd injured so badly? He remained in surgery as the doctors struggled not only to save his leg but also his life.
She closed the notepad with a snap. Abigail rested her elbows on the desk and scrubbed her face with her hands. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten anything in close to eight hours.
“I heard that.” Bryson’s voice reached her.
She cocked an eyebrow as he settled at the desk across from her. He set a candy bar and a can of Coke on the blotter in front of her. “I know this isn’t good for you, but it’s the best I could come up with.”
“Are you finished with Jonathan?”
“Yeah.” His chair squeaked as he leaned back. He swung his feet onto his desk and popped a can of Dr. Pepper. “I’m surprised they’re letting you on the case since you’re his sister.”
“That’s why you debriefed him. I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“It’s almost like, at least from what Jonathan said, the hit was well planned. Maybe someone supplied them with insider information.”
“How could they?”
He shrugged. “It’s just a theory of mine. I think we should run it down.”
“We might get our chance.”
“I’m not following.”
She opened her laptop, typed in her password, and turned it around. “We’ve been ordered to head to the village to check it out. Under heavy escort, of course.”
“They’d better,” Bryson muttered. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with a rag he pulled from his pocket.
“Then at first light day after tomorrow, we’re to head back to Germany.” She rubbed her eyes.
“Go and see your brother.” Bryson’s soft advice reached her. “And tell him his buddy’s through surgery and stabilized.”
She opened her eyes a crack. “You went by the CSH?”
“Yep. They’d just wheeled him into recovery. The doc said they’ll fly him via medevac chopper to Bagram, where they’ll transfer him to a flight to Ramstein.”
“What were his injuries?”
“A nick to the neck which was nothing. The bullet that got him in the left leg broke his femur.”
She flinched.
“But they’re optimistic that they were able to do enough of a repair here to save it. So how about you run along and pass that to your brother? He’s in the guest quarters next to my room. I’ll bring us all some food later.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks, Bryson.” She jumped up and pushed through the door into the night. The cold bit through her ACUs, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t too far of a walk to the heavy canvas tent that made up the guest quarters of the small camp. She stepped through the main door. A central hall ran down the middle, dividing the eight rooms and two bathrooms neatly in half. Cheap wood formed the walls. She shivered in the chill.
She paused at Nabeelah’s room and opened the door a crack. A closed-loop heater in the corner popped a little but had warmed the room so that Nabeelah wouldn’t wake up freezing. The young woman finally slept, her hair fanning onto the pillow in raven waves. Then Abigail heard her cries. The tragedy stalked her even in the depths of medicated unconsciousness.
Why her? Why David and Jonathan? Why did they have to lose so many close friends at once?
She let the door softly close and found her brother’s room. She tapped on the door. “Jonathan?”
No answer.
She pushed it open.
A soft glow filled the room from the lamp that sat on a footlocker someone had pushed against the wall in a poor attempt at a dresser. Folded ACUs sat on top along with a toiletries kit. His heater had worked its magic, and she shucked her ACU jacket.
To her right, Jonathan hunched on the edge of his rack. His elbows rested on his knees, and he hung his head as he stared at the plywood floor. Fresh fatigue pants and a T-shirt probably offered him a modicum of comfort. He’d shaved, and a shower had removed the soot, dirt, and blood from earlier that day.
“Jonathan.”
This time, he turned his face toward her. The deep sadness emanating from his green eyes bludgeoned her soul.
He returne
d his gaze to the floor. His hands shook as if he’d downed too many energy drinks.
Abigail stepped all the way into the room and shut the door behind her to avoid releasing any more heat. Words held no currency during times like this, so she eased onto the bed beside him.
“Is David through surgery?” His voice rasped.
“Bryson said he’s out and stable enough that they’ll transfer him to Lundstahl in the morning. We can go see him later if you like.”
He nodded. “And Nabeelah?”
She sighed. “I finished debriefing her about an hour ago. She’s beyond distraught.”
“We…we didn’t stand a chance.” His hands clenched into fists.
She scooted closer to him so their shoulders touched.
“There were too many of them. They came so fast, and—”
“I’m here.” She rubbed his arm.
The trembling now emanated across his body. “They got Mackie first. A head shot. He was dead when he hit the ground.”
Her throat tightened.
“Then the grenade took down Captain and Oso. Oso, he was gone instantly. Captain took it in the stomach. I tried to save him, Abigail. I tried. But I…I couldn’t.” A tear slipped down his cheek.
She gathered him in her arms and held on tightly.
With a low cry, he wept.
Camp Romeo, Ghazni Province
The sound of pounding reached Abigail where she lay on her rack. Her heater had switched off, and cold now pressed close to her face. She grunted and buried further under the rough wool blanket.
“Abigail!” The man’s voice grew in volume.
She stirred. “Huh?”
“Wake up!”
She bolted upright. “Jonathan?”
Had David died?
She yanked on her jacket and combat boots, then nearly ripped the flimsy door off its hinges. “What’s going on?”
Her brother stood there, his hair mussed, his eyes wide. “Nabeelah’s gone.”
She tried to make sense of what he’d told her. “What?”
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