The Messenger - Special Agent Dylan Kane Series 11 (2021)

by Kennedy, J. Robert

  He completed his turn onto the runway and shoved the throttle to full. “Button us up!” he shouted, leaving the door open useless now that Clarke was on the wrong side of the aircraft to engage. The cabin noise behind him quieted dramatically, and as he reached takeoff speed, he pulled back on the stick. The nose lifted and moments later they were in the air. He made sure he gained at least 100 feet of altitude then banked away from the airport in case those on the ground decided they wanted to continue firing.

  Clarke reappeared, Ginger gripped in his hand. “What the hell was that all about?”

  Ledger shrugged. “I’m guessing you screwed up somebody’s drink order on the last flight.”

  Clarke flipped him the bird. “That’s why I only offer water.”

  Ledger gently banked to starboard as he gained altitude. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say this is all about them.” He pointed down at the road below where a black SUV barreled toward the airport, matching the make and model that Kane had driven away in earlier in the day. He banked hard, lining up with the road, then dropped to the deck, buzzing the SUV. He steered hard to port, staring out the window, and spotted Kane waving. Ledger stuck a hand out the window and pointed at the ground below, then continued to loop around, lining up once again with the road.

  Clarke cursed. “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do, are you?”

  “That depends. What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “Something unbelievably stupid.”

  Ledger flashed him a grin. “You do know me.”

  Back home in Australia, this wouldn’t be a hazardous move—the roads could be expected to be decent. But here, roads were garbage, though this one, at least from his position, didn’t appear to be too bad, with signs of recent repairs having been completed. Not surprising, since this was the only road into the airport and the nearby town, and the government wanted people to think progress was being made.

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Better warn them.”

  Clarke disappeared and Ledger chuckled as his friend shouted in several languages. “Tighten your seatbelts, grab your knees, and be prepared to kiss your asses goodbye. If we survive this, the next round’s on me.” Clarke reappeared and strapped into the co-pilot seat as Ledger shook his head at him.

  “You always know the right thing to say.”

  Clarke shrugged. “If I hadn’t joined the military, I’m sure I would’ve become a poet.”

  Ledger roared in laughter as the tires chirped and he steadied their heading on the road. He powered down and raised the flaps, applying the brakes as the speed indicator quickly dropped. They raced past Kane’s SUV, parked well off the road to give them room, the aircraft’s wingspan wider than the sunbaked asphalt. He came to a halt then turned them around as Kane’s SUV skidded to a halt, Kane and his translator immediately exiting, the other Afghan that had been with them nowhere to be seen.

  “Let them in.”

  Clarke was way ahead of him, already out of his seat and moving toward the passenger cabin. Ledger leaned out his window. “Get a wiggle on, would you? Whoever the hell’s after you has got a lot of friends waiting for us at the airport.”

  Kane acknowledged him with a wave and within moments the two men and their luggage were inside and Clarke had the door closed. Kane stepped into the cockpit. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Ledger pushed forward on the throttle. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” The plane slowly picked up speed, the acceleration gaining as the engines built up power. He pointed at the co-pilot seat. “Do you know how to fly?”

  Kane sat, strapping in. “They teach us everything at Insurance School.”

  Ledger laughed. “I have no doubt. I just didn’t know Shaw’s of London had a school at Bragg or the Farm.”

  Kane flashed him a grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  33 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia

  Child whistled as he stared at his workstation. “I love it when people don’t follow proper security protocols.”

  Leroux turned in his chair to face his underling. “What have you got?”

  “I’ve got Echelon intercepts coming out the yin-yang. It looks like this guy has been using the same phone for almost three months. I can put him in the area of all seven suspected attacks, and if he’s following the pattern, there could be more.”

  “How many more?”

  “Three.” He tapped at his keyboard. “I just sent you them.”

  Leroux checked his station then forwarded the information to Tong. “Sonya, have these checked out. See if we’ve got attacks in the area or attempted attacks. The Chief’s going to want to tie everything we can to these people if we’re going to do what I suspect Washington’s going to want.” He turned back to Child. “What’s the pattern?”

  “It looks like minimal communication with whoever his contacts are. He gets a call with two or three locations. That’s it. Nothing else is said. Then within a few days, he gets a phone call from whatever local contact he’s convinced to participate in an attack. From what I’ve skimmed so far, it appears everyone says yes. They provide a date and time for when our troops will be in their village, then he calls his handlers, gives them the name of the village, the date and time, then hangs up. Then a couple of days after the attack, he gets a phone call from his recruit confirming the attack and asking to meet. Then after the meeting, there’s a final phone call to his handler indicating receipt of the photographs and confirmation of how many were killed and that payment was made, then that’s it.”

  “Pretty minimalist,” said Tong.

  Leroux agreed. “Probably designed to reduce the chance of tracing the calls or of eavesdropping. Considering their success rate, it would appear it was effective. I assume we have the numbers for the incoming and outgoing calls?”

  Child nodded. “According to the Echelon analyst, the numbers are being run now, and they should have more for us any minute. Whoever the Chief called dropped the hammer on them, so they’re getting everything they can to us as fast as they can.”

  Leroux smiled slightly. “Good.”

  Child continued to scan. “I might have an explanation for why three of those locations I sent aren’t on our list.”

  Leroux’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “It looks like for those villages, the people he recruited ultimately turned him down.”

  “So, there are a few people with morals over there,” muttered Tong.

  “More than a few, I hope,” said Leroux. “If that country stands any chance, the population has to stand up and fight back against those who would take them back down the path of hatred and Dark Ages thinking.”

  Child clicked his mouse then his eyes swung back and forth over a new message before his jaw dropped. “Holy shit!”

  Everyone turned to face him.

  “What?” asked Leroux finally after Child remained silent, continuing to read.

  “I just got another update from Echelon. The number of his handlers has been traced.”

  “Who does it belong to?”

  Child shrugged. “No idea. It’s a burner. But that’s not what’s important here. It looks like the phone initially came online in Syria.”

  “Syria?” It had never occurred to Leroux that Syria could be involved. It had enough of its own problems, though it was one piece of good news. Syria was a country they could hit and hit hard without any real threat of reprisals. “I’m going to—”

  Child cut him off. “Forget Syria. That’s not what’s key here.”

  Leroux leaned forward in anticipation. “What is?”

  “It’s where the very first call from Syria was made to.” The fear on Child’s face had Leroux tensing.

  “Where?”

  Child lowered his voice, as if afraid the wrong people might overhear. “Moscow.”

  34 |

  Bagram Airfield-BAF Bagram, Afghanistan
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br />   Kane sat with Mo, sipping on a bottle of ice-cold water as Ledger and his partner slowly circled his plane, searching for any damage. They were at Bagram Airfield, about as secure as you could get in this country, Langley having called off his scouting mission now that the new intel had arrived. Not only was there a possible Syrian link, but Russian as well. And to top it off, the central government authorities had just reported that Akhtar was dead, found shot with his wife and children, along with three other men. Langley was running their faces now. He was guessing a clean-up crew had been sent in to eliminate Akhtar, but the man had fought back. The question was whether they were locals hired to do the job, or part of the team on the ground sent in by the Russians or Syrians.

  He personally couldn’t believe it was the Syrians. That country was in disarray and could ill afford the wrath of America should it be found out. But Russia was an entirely different matter, and the implications were unthinkable. Several years ago, the Iranians had run a bounty operation where they paid a thousand a head for dead Americans, but that was expected of a regime like that, where its only method of warfare was terror. But for Russia to do something like this was inconceivable.

  To pay out massive bounties for the murder of American soldiers was essentially an act of war. The problem was, how do you respond? America certainly had the capability to retaliate. There were any number of hard targets within Russia and its allies, including Syria, that they could hit, but an overt military strike could lead to all-out war.

  And that had to be what the Kremlin was thinking, that America wouldn’t risk war. Personally, he’d like to drop a MOAB on the Kremlin. The Mother Of All Bombs would level the place and certainly send a message. Unfortunately, the reply would likely be nuclear. No, before they reacted to this intel, they had to know for sure that the Russians were involved, then decide upon how to deliver a message that wouldn’t result in war, but would make it clear that if it ever happened again, the consequences would be dire.

  Blood had to be drawn.

  Mo finished his own bottle of water, then regarded him. “You haven’t said much since you got that last transmission.”

  Kane shook his head. “No, I suppose I haven’t.”

  “Was it bad news?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Anything you can talk about?”

  Kane shook his head. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  “That bad?”

  “It could be. Once your escort gets here, I want you to go home. Forget about what happened. Enjoy your kid’s birthday party, but do something for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Pack a go-bag for each of your family members, just in case.”

  Mo gulped. “It’s really that bad?”

  “Possibly. If anything suspicious happens, anything that raises concern, don’t hesitate. Head to any American installation. I’ve already had your names added to the Local Asset List. They’ll let you through the gate and put you into isolation.” Kane saw the concern on Mo’s face growing with each word spoken.

  “Should we go into isolation now?”

  Kane shook his head. “Not until we confirm things. Right now, it’s just speculation. We need some proof and even then there should be no way they know of your involvement. This is all just a precaution in case something goes wrong. If I get any sense that there’s a danger for you or your family, I’ll let you know. If you get my coded call, then you grab those go bags and you leave right away.”

  “And the permits for my family and me to come to America?”

  Kane sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know, my friend. I’m trying my best, but ironically, this intel that has me so concerned if it proves true, might just be your ticket out of here.”

  Mo chuckled. “So, what you’re saying is, what you think might get me killed just might save my life.”

  Kane flashed a smile. “That’s about it.”

  “Shouldn’t you be off saving the world somewhere, you lazy bum?”

  Kane twisted to see Niner striding toward him, a broad smile on his face, flanked by five buddies from Bravo Team. He rose and handshakes with thumping hugs were exchanged. “I was expecting Charlie Team, what with it being Dax.”

  Dawson nodded. “It was decided they were too close to it, so they sent us instead.”

  “So, they sent the B team.”

  “Hey, that’s Bravo Team,” snapped Niner. His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Do you think they were called the A-Team because they were actually Alpha Team?”

  Kane shrugged. “I have no idea, but you’re definitely Murdock.”

  Niner flipped him the bird.

  “Hey, BD! Is that you?”

  Everybody turned to see the Aussie pilot striding toward them. Dawson’s head tilted to the side. “Ben?”

  “In the flesh, my friend.”

  “I didn’t recognize you with hair.” Dawson greeted the man with a hearty handshake and a slap on the shoulder. “My God, you dropped off the face of the earth. I thought you were dead.”

  “I almost was, mate. Damn car accident.”

  Dawson chuckled. “With the crazy shit I’ve seen you pull, I figured you would have broken your neck skydiving naked out of an airplane.”

  “Second most fun you can have with your clothes off.” Ledger jerked a thumb toward Kane. “So, you know this guy?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Huh. I didn’t realize you were in the insurance business.”

  Dawson laughed. “Yeah, I met him when I was having my yacht insured. Gave me a good deal.”

  “I figured he was Bragg or the Farm. Now I guess I have my answer.”

  “Or do you?”

  Ledger’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, he was poached? Huh, I guess they’ve lowered the bar. I had to save your buddy’s ass today.”

  “That’s not how I remember it,” protested Kane.

  Ledger eyed him. “I had to leave the airstrip under fire, then land on a poor excuse for a road to rescue your ass.”

  Kane stared him straight in the eye. “This is Afghanistan. Those people could have just been celebrating you departing on schedule for a change with a friendly volley of gunfire into the air. And I think if you ask the locals, that road you landed on is simply the secondary runway. You picked me up because you realized you had forgotten to wait for two of your passengers.”

  Ledger turned to Dawson. “Is he always like this?”

  Dawson rolled his eyes. “You can see why we were happy when he left.”

  Kane tapped his heart with a clenched fist twice. “That cut deep, BD. I’m feeling a little verklempt.” He faked a stifled sob and bit a knuckle.

  Niner rushed forward and leaped through the air, wrapping his arms and legs around Kane’s torso. “Don’t listen to him, Dylan. He doesn’t speak for all of us.” He threw in a few good hip thrusts.

  Kane pulled Niner off him, holding him out like a slobbering puppy, Niner’s feet dangling in the air. “You’d figure after all these years you guys would have housebroken him by now.”

  Atlas grunted. “I suggested neutering, but the Colonel shut me down.”

  Kane lowered Niner to the ground and held up a finger to him. “Behave.”

  Niner whimpered and Spock’s eyebrow shot up. “I would have thought having a girlfriend would have tamed him a bit.”

  Niner gave him a look. “I’ll have you know that Angela loves it when I do that to her.”

  Kane eyed Niner. “The girl must be a saint.”

  “That’s the only conclusion we’ve been able to come up with,” said Sergeant Gerry “Jimmy Olsen” Hudson. “I keep asking her to blink twice if she’s being held against her will, but she never does.”

  A Humvee pulled up and a corporal stepped out, walking over to the group, uncertain who to address as no one had rank insignia. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m Corporal Fayette. I understand you have an Afghan national that requires an escort.”

  Kane acknowledg
ed the young man then turned to Mo, already on his feet, bag in hand. “This is your passenger. Arrange a local ride for him, trusted local ride, inside the wire. I don’t want anybody outside seeing him on base. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll see to it personally.”

  “Good.” Kane gave Mo a handshake. “Be careful, and remember everything I said. Be prepared to leave on a moment’s notice.”

  “I understand. You be careful too.”

  Kane slapped the man on the shoulder and tilted his head toward the waiting vehicle. “Get your butt out of here and enjoy that birthday party.”

  Mo flashed a smile and climbed in the back of the Humvee, the corporal closing the door then settling in behind the driver’s seat before pulling away. Mo waved, his fear evident.

  “Do you think you’re going to be able to get them out?” asked Dawson.

  Kane shook his head. “No idea. Tens of thousands of applications have just been sitting there. We promised these people we’d take them out with us. If we never intended to do it, then we shouldn’t have made the promise and led these people on. Everyone in Washington knows that as soon as we pull out, this country is going to shit and it’s going to shit fast. And every single one of them that worked for us will be singled out and killed along with their families. It’s going to be a blood bath.”

  “Well, if the Russians are involved in this, that might be his ticket out.”

  Kane agreed. “That’s what I just told him a few minutes ago, but if the Russians are involved, we could be going to war, and none of what we did here will matter.”

  35 |

  Operations Center 2, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia