Danger Close

by S L Shelton

  “Get out and help him reload his produce,” Harbinger said as he handed his driver the battery from Ukil’s cell phone. “Pay him a few dollars for his trouble.”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver replied as he took the tracer-tagged battery and then got out of the car.

  Harbinger watched as the two men worked to load the fruits and vegetables back into the truck. The farmer seemed very pleased by the payment offered and hurried on his way as soon as the crates were neatly stacked.

  “It’s done,” the driver said as he returned.

  “Good,” Harbinger said. “Let the CIA chase a ghost for a while. Take us back to Ar Raqqah. Maybe we can get some sleep before we have to move out tonight.”

  “Yes, sir,” the driver replied as Harbinger leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  **

  7:45 a.m. local time —Gaziantep, Southern Turkey

  I woke to a nudge on my arm.

  “We’re here,” Apollo said quietly.

  I looked up and saw Nick holding the hatch open to the hidden compartment of the truck.

  “Mornin’, sunshine,” he said abrasively.

  “Jesus, Nick,” I said, wiping my eyes. “Don’t ever wake a man with that face.”

  “Come on,” he said, ignoring my jab. “We’ve got a possible destination on the Serb tracers. It’s time to earn your pay.”

  “I thought I did that already,” I mumbled as I slid out of the back of the truck and dropped to the ground, dragging some equipment out with my toe as I went.

  “No,” he replied. “You did Delta’s job. Now you have to do yours.”

  Happy to serve, I thought.

  “Ease up,” Apollo said to Nick in a whispered volume as I carried my equipment to the van. “The dude rocked out with his cock out.”

  “What did I tell you before you left?” I overheard Nick reply. “He seems badass. But he’s green.”

  I paused at the van so I could listen in more. “He didn’t seem green to me,” Apollo said.

  Nick looked up and saw I was watching them. He turned his back on Apollo, bringing an abrupt end to the conversation before stomping over to the van.

  “Over here,” he said, jerking his head to the side.

  I followed him through an opening in the wall and into another bay of the barn. He stopped in the center of the space and waited for me.

  “Aspen was stuck, and I didn’t have a rifle to cover him,” I said as I came to a halt in front of Nick, choosing to defend what I figured would be the most egregious babysitting rule violation.

  “It wasn’t your call to make,” he said, his face flushing red.

  “The Delta guys didn’t seem to have a problem with it,” I muttered snidely.

  “They’re military tasked to assist the CIA,” he snapped, his voice rising in anger and volume. He took a deep breath and calmed himself a bit before continuing. “To them, your idea was an order from Langley. You’re surviving on luck.”

  I shook my head. “If someone gets lucky every single time, you need consider the possibility that it’s more than just luck,” I said, feeling like I was asking my mom to let me stay out past curfew.

  “You don’t get it,” he said.

  “What? What don’t I get?” I asked incredulously. “That it’s dangerous work? That I could die if things don’t go my way?”

  He stared at me for a minute, anger building on his face.

  “No. You don’t get that you’re being maneuvered,” he said, angry, red faced. I could tell he regretted saying it almost immediately.

  “Maneuvered? How?”

  He shook his head. “Never mind. You wouldn’t listen anyway.”

  Is it possible he doesn’t trust John? That thought hadn’t occurred to me before.

  “I’m where I want to be,” I said. “I’ve been aching to be in the field since I came back from Europe. If I’m being herded, it’s only because it’s the direction I want to go.”

  “You take too many chances,” Nick snapped, his criticism returning to my flaws instead of the circumstance. “You could have blown the whole op if that Serb or the Syrians took you.”

  “It would have been blown if the Serbs had found a member of Delta team at their weapons site,” I replied. “It would have been blown if we hadn’t caught the cell phone call to the Syrians. It would have been blown if Ukil didn’t have a tracer on his phone. A million things could have blown that Op, but none of them did…because everyone did what they had to keep it together.”

  I could see his face turning red in anger—I probably shouldn’t have pushed the matter, but he had me pretty pissed off as well.

  “Now I don’t know what your problem is with me, but either spit it out or crawl the hell out of my ass,” I said—too angrily. It was my turn to regret having a hot head.

  Nick’s response? Of course—he threw a punch at my face.

  My elbow rose quickly—real quickly, like snatching a fly from the air with chopsticks quickly—and blocked it; then, without even thinking, my right fist flew out and struck him in the jaw. To be honest, I don’t recall consciously deciding to take either action.

  He hadn’t been prepared for a response.

  He stepped back as a shocked expression swept across his face. I could see his body tighten in preparation to launch an attack when someone behind us cleared his throat.

  I turned and saw Aspen standing there, his hands on his hips. “I’m hungry,” he said unapologetically. “Should we go eat and then come back and get you guys or can we get the hell outta here now?”

  Nick turned and glared at me, still trying to figure out what he would do next. After a second, he pointed his finger at my face. “This isn’t done yet,” he hissed and stormed back toward the van.

  “No. That makes us even,” I said, referring to the punch in the face he gave me the morning before.

  “Not even close,” he snarled with his back to me.

  Oh, right! The broken nose in Amsterdam. Shit!

  He pushed past Aspen and disappeared around the corner. I followed more slowly, letting Aspen fall in beside me when I reached him.

  “You don’t see that every day,” Aspen mumbled.

  “Huh?” I grunted.

  “Nothin’,” he replied. “I just ain’t never seen a tech do that before.”

  I grinned. “Ever been rescued by a German drinking song before?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “More times than you’d think,” he said and put his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go find some breakfast.”

  **

  1:30 p.m. local (GMT +2)—U.S. Air Base Incirlik, Southern Turkey

  One of my suspected nuke storage locations in Syria had turned out to be quite promising. Mahkan was the town where the Serb from the weapons sale had ended up after making a brief pit stop in Ar Raqqah.

  “How long before we get confirmation?” I asked Charlotte over the video link. She was still at Ramstein monitoring an asset who was trying to confirm the presence of nuclear material in Mahkan.

  “If the Serbs don’t have proper storage for the devices, we should know it in a matter of minutes,” she replied. “Our asset won’t have to go inside if he gets a hot Geiger reading.”

  “And if he doesn’t?” I asked.

  “That’s up to Langley,” she replied tiredly. “But I don’t think they’ll order him to go inside—too dangerous for this guy. We may have to send a team in just to get confirmation if the site doesn’t read hot.”

  The person she had sent was on his way to an agricultural storage building that I suspected was the storage location for nukes.

  “Cross your fingers for a hot read,” I said. “They’ve changed up their patterns recently. If one of the two places in the south isn’t the right target, we may have to start from scratch. By then it could be too late.”

  “I’m with ya on that,” she replied and then her attention was pulled off screen.

  I felt the hairs on my neck stand up and turned in time to see
Nick walk by. I wondered if he had poked his head in the door and then changed his mind because I was in there—or maybe I was just being paranoid.

  I was feeling rather rested, having slept almost the whole ride back to Incirlik. I felt bad for Charlotte and Nick, who had both been up nearly nonstop since yesterday morning. Neither of them had rested at all after the tracer tags were placed.

  “We’ve got it,” Charlotte burst suddenly. “He got a hot read outside the shed.”

  “Fan-friggin-tastic! It’s about time we caught a break,” I exclaimed and then felt a hand on my shoulder.

  “Let Langley know,” Nick said from behind me—that stealthy bastard.

  She nodded. “Are you leading the team in?” she asked him.

  “Yeah. Unless John thinks Monkey Wrench is more suited for the job,” he replied sarcastically, but he squeezed and then patted my shoulder as if I should take it as a joke, not a jab.

  Well, are you pissed at me or not? I thought.

  “Expect a call in a few minutes,” she said, then ended the video link without a good-bye to either of us.

  “Go tell Delta to gear up,” he said to me as he left my side and dragged a large metal box out of the corner.

  “Yep,” I replied as I got up to leave. Nick’s head was already in the box, pulling out field equipment.

  “And Monkey Wrench,” he said, stopping me on the way out the door, but without turning to look at me. “Good guess on Mahkan.”

  “It wasn’t a guess,” I replied coldly as I turned and left. I don’t guess—I calculate.

  The Delta guys were spread throughout the barracks we had commandeered when we arrived the day before. Some were sleeping, some were cleaning their weapons, and others had gathered in the day room and were playing pool or watching TV. I poked my head into each room as I went by and spread the word.

  “Nick says we’re gearing up for a move,” I said to Apollo and Aspen after hitting the other rooms. Apollo was up, but Aspen had been sleeping. “I don’t know how long we have, but Nick’s already pulled out his toy box.”

  “Did they find the nukes?” Apollo asked.

  I smiled. “Looks like it.”

  “Were you right?” he asked with a knowing grin.

  I nodded. “Mahkan,” I replied. “Just got the confirmation on the hot read from Vixen’s asset.”

  “So there should be an extra five dollars on your pay stub this month,” Aspen said, rising from his bunk and rubbing his eyes.

  “You’d think so.”

  **

  5:30 p.m. Local Time - Somewhere in the Western Part of Iraq

  I could feel the heat before the ramp opened on the C-130 troop transport plane. It was like a sauna.

  And I thought it was hot in Virginia in summer. I was immediately thirsty.

  “Where are we?” I asked Nick as I shouldered my bag and followed him down the ramp.

  “An airbase in Western Iraq,” he muttered without looking at me.

  “Western Iraq is a big place,” I snarked. “Which airbase?”

  “You aren’t cleared to know that,” he replied without looking at me. He was being a jerk on purpose. I was cleared to help hunt lost nuclear warheads—knowing the location of a military air base wouldn’t have been a violation of national security.

  “But I’m here already,” I offered, fishing for more detail as we walked away from the tarmac.

  He stopped and looked at me, smiling snidely. “Do you think you could find your way back here?”

  “Whatever,” I said and looked up to see someone coming toward us.

  A heavyset guy in beach shorts, a Metallica t-shirt, and a floppy-brimmed hat strolled up to us with a smile on his face. He was wearing sandals and socks.

  “Welcome to H-1, fellas,” he said as he reached his hand out to shake Nick’s.

  Nick rolled his eyes, agitated that this guy had just told me more than Nick was willing to share.

  When Nick didn’t shake his hand, he shifted his attention to me.

  “Howard Mooring,” he said as I shook his hand. “I’ll be the lead COM tech on this little foray.”

  “Scott Wolfe,” I replied. “I’ll be observing and assisting if you need me.”

  “Good to meet you Scott,” he said before looking at Nick.

  Nick wasn’t giving a name.

  “Come on, Nick,” I said, divulging his well-guarded state secret. “Don’t be rude. The man’s gonna be keeping your lifeline up and running.”

  “Whatever,” he muttered after a short glare in my direction.

  “It’s okay,” Howard confided to me, though I could tell his feelings were a little bruised. “Come on. I’ll show you to your racks.”

  “Don't mind him,” I said as we walked from the tarmac toward camp. “He's not nice to anyone unless they're carrying a weapon or have a pair of tits.”

  Nick curled his lip without looking at me.

  “I've got tits,” Howard said with a broad grin, bringing his hands up to his doughy chest. “—C cups.”

  I laughed but Nick was obviously unimpressed by the self-deprecating humor.

  The first thing I noticed as we left the field was a persistent hum. As we entered the camp, the sound had risen to be a nearly suffocating vibration of air and ground.

  Generators, I thought.

  Howard noticed my discomfort and slowed to talk to me.

  “You get used to them,” he said. “By the end of the day, you won’t even know they’re here.”

  He didn’t know me. I found it nearly impossible to block anything out. He handed me a bag of squishy earplugs then continued to lead us toward the center of the ‘tent city’. I pocketed the earplugs and kept going.

  He brought us to an air-conditioned inflatable building where, once inside, we saw a long row of computers and monitors on both sides of the structure. Some of them were manned by techs, others sat empty. I counted eight techs in the room. Cables were hanging from an aluminum ladder that was suspended from the ceiling and the white polyvinyl of the sides were barely visible through the white boards, large flat-panel TVs, and map boards plastered all over the walls.

  “Whoa,” I muttered as the AC blasted me.

  “Yeah, it’s like a thirty degree drop in temperature from out there to in here,” Howard said, reading my response perfectly.

  “Good way to get a heat stroke when you go back out,” I returned with a grin.

  “I try not to go out,” Howard replied with a crooked grin of his own.

  At the back of the structure was another door. We followed him through the big room of ‘tech’ and through the door at the other end where there was a small alcove with five other doors. He pushed one of them open to reveal a small-but-tidy two-person room.

  Nick looked around for a second then shook his head. “I’m bunking with Delta,” he said before abruptly turning to leave.

  “What’s with him?” Howard asked as Nick passed back into the tech area.

  “Warrior class,” I replied. “This isn’t uncomfortable enough for him.”

  “I heard that,” Nick yelled without looking back before slamming the door shut behind him.

  I laughed as I dropped my bag on the bunk and took off the lightweight, desert camouflage jacket. Howard got a glimpse of my shoulder holster and appeared surprised to see a tech packing a concealed weapon.

  “It’s just for show,” I said, avoiding speculation.

  He grunted his acknowledgment to my explanation but then backed out of the cramped space.

  I followed him into the outer room again, and he showed me where we would be working. Several of the other techs noticed my Glock and were eying me.

  “There will be three of us on this Op once the team crosses over into Syria,” he said.

  “Three counting me?” I asked, surprised at the small number of techs involved in such an important operation.

  “Three here,” he corrected. “There’s also game theorists and techs on a ship in the Persi
an Gulf, and there’ll be an army of analysts and other brainiacs back at Langley who’re all tied in real-time. Our job is monitoring and tweaking tactical communication and the relay signal for the extraction.”

  “I thought they were going in on the ground,” I said.

  “They’re going in on the ground, but they’re exiting by air. I don’t know what the packages are, but they’re apparently pretty heavy—no way to haul them out by hand.”

  I nodded my understanding. I guess I did know a fair amount more about the mission than he did.

  **

  I met up with everyone in the chow tent after Howard had gone over all the equipment we’d be monitoring. Nick sat with the Delta guys, telling them a story about an agent who had somehow been suspended naked from a flagpole in Pakistan. I missed the beginning of the story, so the punch line didn’t make any sense to me.

  “—and when they brought him down, all he wanted to know was if the girl was still in his room,” Nick said to the eagerly listening crowd of warriors.

  They all burst out laughing. I was still picking through the carb-fest in the chow line when he started into his next story. The chow hall was very carbohydrate heavy, making it difficult to fill my plate with enough palatable meat, fruit, and veggies to get me by—but I managed.

  I was just grabbing my water when I heard blasphemy being spoken about me behind my back.

  “—so while we were all huddled around trying to figure out what to do next, that crazy bastard and this hot-piece-of-ass blonde chick sneak out the front door and stroll to the damn cargo plane like it’s their bus ride home or something,” he said.

  I knew how that story ended. I took my tray and headed for the tech table, but I was ambushed by some Delta Force team members as I passed by.

  “Sit,” one of them said. “Spartan’s getting to the good part.”

  “Come on and sit with us, Monkey Wrench,” Aspen said with a broad grin.

  “Dude! Right here,” another soldier exclaimed, patting the bench next to him and sliding down to make an opening.