Scott himself was wearing a vest and packing a pair of Storm Special Duty pistols, a present from the chief just before takeoff. “A little bird told me you like .45 Px4 as much as I do and there’s two—well, there’s two because good things always come in pairs,” the chief said with a wink. It didn’t matter that Scott couldn’t use both guns at the same time, given his current condition. It only mattered that they were finally about to dish out some payback.
“See something you like,” Edie said as the chopper touched down in a parking lot overlooking the Zurrieq Valley Sea Inlet and they jumped out two by two. Since this was a joint operation, four members of the Quick Reaction Force from C Company, 1st Regiment, AFM were also along for the ride, creating a 10-member team.
“I do, and I’m a little jealous,” Scott said, eyeing her machine gun. Unlike the M249 SAW, the M249 Para’s rounds were fed from a soft bag instead of a hard plastic box. The standard stock had been replaced with an aftermarket collapsible one. Similar to what the 10th Mountain division used, it had an Elcan sight and a grip pod too. “That’s a whole lot of gun.”
Edie shouldered the machine gun, removed photos from her vest pocket and showed two of them to her team. “Remember, alive if possible,” she said as she touched each face. The third photo from the stack, she folded in half. Turning to Scott, she said, “Blake, describe him.”
Scott gave the team the same description he’d given to the chief before getting on the helicopter. “Owen Blake is not an imposing figure. If you saw him in a crowded room, he wouldn’t stand out, but there’s an intensity to him, a confidence and clear intelligence. He’s medium build, lean but not athletic, 5 foot 8 to 5 foot 10. He has a narrow oblong face with an angular jaw line, a full head of light brown hair with a widow’s peak. He’s light-skinned though with some bronzing from the sun, early to mid 30’s and his dark eyes are small, spaced evenly apart. He has an average-sized nose, a small, narrow mouth with thin lips.”
Snaking through the crowds, the team wound their way down to the inlet, getting excited reactions as they went. At the bottom of the final stairs, Scott and Edie hugged the stone wall, making their way to where a fast boat waited.
Here, they picked up two more AFM soldiers and became a team of twelve. Soon after, they were motoring away from the shore, leaving behind a throng of swimmers, boaters and sightseers who seemed to be wondering what the heck was going on.
The fast boat swerved to avoid a group of paddlers and jet skiers. Exiting the inlet, the boat turned west, cutting through the smooth seas. The stone walls of the cliffs loomed above while they raced past sea caves, odd juts of land, a limestone bridge. Then a white fishing boat was dead ahead, moored in a secluded nook, and pulled up on shore nearby was the black zodiac boat from Sea Shepherd. A moment later, everyone was piling out of the fast boat, running along the rocky shore.
Suddenly, all Scott could think about was the Kid, Kathy and Angel and how none of them should have been anywhere near the fishing boat after what happened. At Edie’s signal, two of her team started toward the fishing boat and two to the zodiac. Scott, Edie and the others continued into the shadowed sea cave. Another signal from Edie split the team again. Four moved off in one direction, Scott, Edie and two others proceeded in the opposite direction.
As shots rang out, Scott and Edie dropped to the ground. The two soldiers beside them took a knee-ready position, swiveling the muzzles of their guns around as they hunted for targets. Confused calls over the radio followed. Scott thought he heard one of the AFM soldiers say something about rats. “Firien, firien!”
Continuing on, remnants of a campfire caught Scott’s eye. He leaned down, held out a hand to the warmth and signaled Edie. Two fingers held to his eyes told her to be on the lookout.
Voices started calling out. “Clear.” “Clear.” Edie added her voice to the mix. “Clear, secure the perimeter.”
“Body,” came the report from those inside the fishing boat.
Chapter 19
Mediterranean Sea
Early Afternoon, Wednesday, 20 June
Scott and Edie swiftly made their way to the boat and clambered inside. Lian Qu’s body was inside the main cabin, face up with both eyes open and his arms up over his head, his final expression one of terror. He’d been shot twice in the chest at close range.
“Oh God,” Edie said.
Scott gave a solemn sigh. “The Kid didn’t deserve that.”
“No, no, he didn’t,” Edie said, frowning.
Scott knelt down and closed the Kid’s eyes. He wasn’t a doctor but judging from the warm and flaccid nature of the body, the Kid hadn’t been dead long. “Damned stupid kid,” he said, hanging his head. “Happened a few hours ago, no more.”
Edie put a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and he reached back, gripping it. “Nothing we could have done would have changed what happened,” she said quietly.
“You don’t know that,” Scott said. He’d sent the Kid to retrieve Kathy and Angel, nothing more, but that didn’t stop pangs of guilt from sweeping through him.
Edie twisted around and stared at him. “Lian’s gone. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s hope for the best with Kathy and Angel.”
Scott’s shoulders slumped lower. He swept the deck of the boat with his eyes, flashing on images from the attack on Sea Shepherd. One of the boats had stacks of wooden crates, but was it this one?
“Crates,” he said to Edie. “I remember seeing wooden crates, a few stacked on top of each other.”
“It all happened so fast. I don’t know…” Her voice trailed off. She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Two stacks, going chest high, and a few crates by themselves, so maybe six in all.” Reaching out, moving on his hands and knees, Scott ran a hand along marks on the deck that matched his recollection of where the crates had been. “Here, here and here,” he said. “Large enough to hold weapons, machine guns maybe, and who knows what else.”
He was about to stand up when he saw something gripped in the Kid’s hand. Prying it from the Kid’s grip, he saw it was the bottom third of a photograph.
“Know this place?” Edie said, showing the picture around. “Jafu dan il-post?” There was some mumbling and shrugs. She stepped out of the boat and rushed back to the others gathered at the rocky shore. Scott followed. “Jafu dan il-post?” she repeated.
One of the AFM soldiers said, “Jista 'jkun Il-Barrakka ta' Fuq.” Others quickly agreed. “Iva, Il-Barrakka ta' Fuq,” they said. One said in English, “Barrakka Gardens in Valletta near Saint Barbara Bastion.”
Scott took the photo fragment back and studied it. “Is Barrakka Gardens on the Heads of State itinerary?”
Edie pulled a piece of paper from a pocket on her vest and scanned it. “It is.” She turned to one of the Spec Ops. “Pick six to stay behind. Secure the perimeter. Get forensics in here and then go over every inch of this scene. If they were transporting something, I want to know what it was.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the soldier replied, running off.
To another, she said, “Ready the rendezvous.” Then she turned to Scott. “What are you thinking?”
Scott frowned. The truth was he wasn’t thinking like he should. Seeing the Kid stretched out on his back was as sobering as drinking a pot of coffee after a good drunk. He tapped the photo fragment with a finger. “The Kid was trying to hold onto this even as he was dying. It’s important.”
Edie nodded in agreement. “But why?”
It was a good question, but unfortunately he had no answer. “I wish I knew,” he said, his gaze fixed on the fishing boat. “Let’s go find out.”
The story continues with End Game: The Cards in the Deck #4.
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Robert Stanek is author of the #1 bestselling RUIN MIST CHRONICLES, an epic fantasy series, currently comprising five books, which has been translated
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