Cursed Days

by J. M. LeDuc

  He and Chloe had been reunited after having broken up seven months earlier. They wouldn’t have even been in contact except for the fact that he overheard Donovan Ferric’s men talking about abducting her in order to flush him out of hiding. The truth was, he hadn’t been hiding, he was a step ahead of them. Brent had phoned Chloe and warned her of the potential trouble not knowing if she would even answer his call.

  An emotional reunion at The Loft led to the two of them teaming up with Maddie, a woman he thought was a counter-spy in order to get to Ferric.

  Later that day, the three of them deciphered an invisible map only seen under low wave-length infra-red light. It was that map that led them to the entrance of the tunnel system in the basement of his townhome. The door to the tunnel in his home made the same eerie sound he just heard.

  It was in this tunnel, Brent had made his intentions known—he wanted Chloe as his wife. To be with him forever.

  With no imminent danger about, Brent dropped down into a deep squat, slowed his heart rate and allowed his breathing to slow and become shallow. Closing his eyes, he drifted off into a deep spiritual state. His shoulders dropped and his arms went limp. His gun fell from his hand as his eyes rolled back into his head. They were open, but all that was visible were the whites.

  Like he taught his squad, he emptied his head of all thought. All emotion. It was in this semiconscious state that he could hear the word of God the clearest. In this physical state just short of unconsciousness, Brent called on the Lord for help. He knew it was dangerous to stay ‘under’ for too long, but he had to chance it. He had to wait on God to speak.

  Time passed, how much he didn’t know, before he felt a warm wind begin to swirl around him. The sensation brought with it a feeling of total peace. The Holy Spirit was present.

  How do I get inside Red’s head? How do I pull him away from the girls before he does something drastic, something permanent?

  “Look to your past for the answer,” the spirit said. “Look to the past ambassadors for help. All that is written here was divinely inspired.”

  The voice began to fade.

  Wait, Brent said. I need more than that. I need a concrete plan.

  “All you need, you possess. You are God’s Chosen.”

  But what if I make the wrong choice? What if my choice ends in the death of the one I love?

  “We all make mistakes. That is the pitfall to free will. But God will be walking with you. Trust your instincts. Trust your past. Trust God.”

  Brent wanted more concrete answers, but the wind was gone and along with it the voice of God. He continued to squat while the words of the Holy Spirit played over and over in his mind.

  “Look to the past ambassadors for help. All that is written here is divinely inspired.”

  Eyes open, Brent stood and began to retrace his steps. He walked slow, reading all the etched words of his predecessors hoping, praying that something on those coral walls would strike him like a jolt of electricity. Almost back to where he began, the words practically jumped off the wall.

  Bring your enemy to you. Never attack when expected. Never attack until all other paths have been walked. Satan will draw you in. Keep him at bay. Bring your enemy into your house. There you will have the upper hand.

  A smile crept its way onto Brent’s stoic, emotionless face. He offered a prayer of thanks, before breaking into a full run toward the library.

  CHAPTER 64

  Red and the girls heard the sound of the vehicle before they saw it turn onto the Palm Cove air field. The SUV barreled toward them, bouncing along the uneven ground. Stopping mere inches from them, Caleb cut the engine and jumped out of the truck. A smile of near victory engulfed his etched, cocky face.

  Two others exited the vehicle and stood behind him.

  “Keep your weapons trained on those two,” Red said, walking up to Caleb. “The team? Where are they?” he asked.

  “I had them enter SIA and make their way to the command center. They were ordered to kill anyone that did not bear the insignia of The Brotherhood,” Caleb replied.

  Red’s expression turned cold. “I don’t remember giving that order,” he said with a heavy Irish brogue.

  Caleb’s smile evaporated as Red spoke. His temper was well known. He prepared himself for the worst. Inches away from him, Red looked ready to kill. Caleb bowed his head, expecting the worse. Instead, he felt Red’s arms wrap around his torso and felt them squeeze him and slap his back in an embrace of gratitude. “That was good thinking. I knew I chose well when I picked you as my second in command.”

  Caleb’s smile reappeared even broader than before.

  “Overkill, but a good decision.” Red said. “Our man on the inside tells me they are all dead. All but the one I must kill myself.”

  Turning his attention to the others, he ordered them to have the girls place the Arks in the back of the SUV next to the Ark of the Covenant. Nodding to his men, he said, “Cuff those two and put them in the back seat. I want them to witness the power of the Trilogy of the Arks. I want them to see their beloved Ambassador beg for his life, beg for the life of his wife and unborn child before I kill them all.” Red laughed a demonic laugh. Addressing Caleb, he commanded, “Drive us back to HQ.” His hands clenched in fists, he punched the air. “Before the sun sets, we will be gods!”

  CHAPTER 65

  Behind the walls of his office in the Palm Cove Library sat the electronic brain trust of the Endowment Network. He purposely kept it separate from SIA headquarters. Although the two had been weaved together in the past year, he felt it necessary to keep a degree of distance between them. If one or the other were ever infiltrated, the other would be safe. Infiltration was not something he ever thought possible. . . .until now. Seven’s words of wisdom were never far from his thoughts.

  The newly formed Phantom Squad sat in a makeshift bar in a remote cabin deep in the Grand Teton Mountain range. It had been three weeks since the squad’s dramatic rescue, spearheaded by Captain Venturi, after the devastating landslide. The four members were still healing from their physical injuries. The psychological ones would take time.

  Seven stood, raised his glass of Jack Daniels, and toasted the squad. “I’ve said it before and I’m sure it will be repeated many times after today,” he began. He was not a man of words, so when he spoke, all eyes and ears were glued to him. “Look around this table, gentlemen. The men you see looking back at you are your lifeblood. You do not breathe without their breath. You are blind without their eyes and you are deaf without their ears. Each of us is no longer whole without the others.” Seven clinked glasses with the men and drank down the shot of bourbon.

  “You will each leave here and go about your lives until called. It is imperative that you are able to keep this part of your life separate from every other aspect of your lives. If any part of squad life becomes intermingled with your personal ones, you risk the lives of the men you see before you.” Taking out his tin of tobacco, Seven pinched off a good amount and stuffed his lower lip. “I don’t say this figuratively. I say this because I have witnessed what can happen if we don’t maintain a dual existence.”

  He dropped his head, his hand shaking as he refilled his glass. “Because we are one, I’m going to tell you a story that I have never repeated to anyone and it will never be spoken of again.” Spitting in an empty Styrofoam cup, he raised his head and continued speaking. “This is not the first time a squad like this has been tried. Ten years ago, I was a young Marine and I trained to be part of similar platoon. The Joint Chiefs thought the squad should be bigger than the one we have now, much bigger.” His eyes grew cold and angry. A hint of sorrow could be seen, if only for a nanosecond.

  “That squad was one hundred large.” Putting up a finger he said, “First mistake. It was made up of soldiers who were physically bigger and faster than any of us. It was thought that physical makeup was the
prime ingredient needed in putting together a covert strike force.” A second finger was raised, “Second mistake. It wasn’t possible to control the everyday lives of that many men.”

  Seven emptied his glass into his throat. “One of the men got drunk while on leave and spoke about his new assignment to someone he shouldn’t have. During our first mission, deep in Somalia, we were ambushed.” He took a deep breath and again refilled his glass. “The physical stature of the men was no match for the passion of the Somalian rebels.” He pointed to each man in the room. “Don’t mistake passion for emotion. We must always be passionate for what we do, but we must do it without emotion.”

  Seven lifted his shirt, showing the tattoo over his right pec. In Latin was inked Affectus mos adepto vos iuguolo.

  “Professor, you care to translate?”

  Brent’s eyes drifted down towards his chest. “Emotion will get you killed.”

  A smile crept its way across Seven’s three day growth. “Not only will it be burned into your brains, it will be inked into your skin as soon as we leave here, so if any of you don’t like needles I suggest you drink up.”

  Sergeant Malcolm Jefferson, the biggest, meanest, darkest man Brent had ever met, grabbed the bottle and didn’t even bother with the glass. Just brought it to his lips and swigged it down.

  Seven watched, smirked and picked up where he left off. “We were bigger, stronger, and outnumbered the rebels ten to one, but when the stuff hit the fan the men were not of one mind. He held up three fingers. Third mistake. The squad became angry that they were out-maneuvered by a bunch of maggots. They began to drop in number and they let fear lead them to their demise. We were plucked liked a chicken. One feather at a time. It was a cluster. . . ” Tossing down his final drink, Seven stepped away from the table and stared out into the night. “When it was over, one hundred became six. The mission was over before it ever had a chance to begin and the squad was dismantled.”

  He turned and looked back at the three men riveted to him. “When we returned home, I resigned my commission, angry at everyone and everything. I decided that if I couldn’t right wrongs as part of a group, I would do it on my own.” Seven drew in a deep long breath and exhaled it slowly. “My next words were never said and if ever repeated, they will be the reason this squad is dismantled. I became a rogue mercenary.”

  He sat back down and eyed each man, stopping at each long enough to convey his anger and his sorrow. “I’m sure each of you has heard legends of a person known as the ‘phantom’.” Each nodded their affirmative. “It was no legend, you’re looking at him. I put myself out there to the highest bidder. I was bitter and angry at what I witnessed in Somalia. I never worked against the United States, but I was considered a criminal never the less. After four years of fighting and killing my targets, I found the Somalian warlord and put a bullet in the back of his head. I came home, a home I loved more than anything, walked into the Pentagon and turned myself in.”

  Seven scowled and spit into the cup. “I was tried by a military tribunal and found guilty. I spent four years as a guest in Guantanamo Bay. My release was conditional on my agreeing to train another band of military elite. I agreed on my terms. A small squad handpicked by me and led by the best soldier I could find.” He raised his glass toward Brent.

  I tell you this only so you understand why it is so important that you keep all squad business between the four of us and no one else.

  Brent never forgot that day and he took those same values and made them part of the Endowment. Seated in front of the command center that Joan helped design, he opened the video and audio feed to headquarters. Flipping through the different cameras, he watched as the members of the Brotherhood stormed headquarters. He hoped Maddie remembered to use the override when she shut down the security system.

  He knew she was a great operative as well as the Director or the Strategic Intelligence Alliance and that she would have used the thumb override, but still, he couldn’t help being tense.

  His doubts were soon alleviated when he saw the first group open the doors that led to the outer section of the inner sanctum. As the doors closed behind them, steel doors slammed shut twelve feet in front of them. Before they could react, gas filled the area and they dropped like roaches covered in Black Flag.

  As he watched SIA agents sweep the area and bag and tag the prisoners, his mind couldn’t help wondering where Tommy was right now.

  That question was soon answered. “Phantom One, this is Phantom Four, do you read?”

  Brent grabbed his Walky-Talky off the desk and depressed the speaker button. “Four this is One, go on.”

  “Secure line sir?” Fitz asked.

  “Yep. No time for small talk, soldier, it’s a go.”

  “Ambush coming in from untapped tunnel entrance, sir.”

  “How do I know this isn’t a set up, Tommy?”

  The Colonel never used Fitz first name and it startled him momentarily. “I, ah, I just heard over the Gaza network that Red knows of the surprise waiting him in the Inner Sanctum. He has ordered thirty men, all he has left, to storm the secondary entrance and to shoot to kill.”

  “Can you redirect them to the primary tunnel entrance?”

  “Under what premise, Colonel?”

  Brent pushed the * key on his satellite phone. “Under the premise that I just blew the secondary entrance.”

  Brent could hear a laugh come through the line. “Always a step ahead, aren’t you, sir. I’ll radio Red of the situation. That’s all I can do.”

  The tone of Tommy’s voice had Brent worried. “You’ve been under for a long time soldier. How do I know this isn’t a set up?”

  “Trust, sir.” Fitzpatrick let the line go dead.

  Brent felt a twinge of doubt in his mind. He wouldn’t know Tommy’s true loyalty until he faced Fitz face to face. He couldn’t help but pray for him and his family.

  Brent opened all the ear mikes. “One to squad, do you read?”

  Everyone at HQ heard loud and clear. “It’s good to hear your voice, Colonel,” Seven replied. “Go ahead.”

  “Move out using emergency exit under the infirmary. You’ve been compromised. Explosion expected in under ten minutes. I need an empty HQ before it blows.”

  Seven knew better to ask questions. He looked at Joan who was already taking off the enemy’s uniform. He nodded an affirmative and did the same thing. They wouldn’t be needed after all.

  He quickly changed and ordered the squad to follow him. The only people who knew of the infirmary exit were Brent, Maddie and himself. It took five minutes to run from the inner sanctum through the gassed tunnels to the infirmary.

  He grabbed the surgical drill from the Code Blue cart, replaced the saw blade with a drill bit and drilled out the hidden screws from a large piece of floor tile. The team watched silently as Seven removed the tile and ordered each of them to climb down into the hole. With everyone safely in the tunnel, he slid the tile back into place and looked at his squad.

  He pulled his piece from his hip, “I want all weapons drawn. Shoot to kill anyone and everyone we come across.” As he was about to the lead in a run for safety, he looked back and added, “Suppressors on, and make every shot count. If you don’t have a clear shot at the head, wait until you do.” Looking at his team with a blank expression he repeated the words they all knew. “Affectus mos adepto vos iuguolo.”

  Seven took point and led the team down a tunnel unknown to them. “Double time,” he yelled. “We have less than 3 minutes before hell rains down on us.”

  CHAPTER 66

  Brent tapped a key on the main console and viewed the live feed in the primary tunnel entrance into headquarters. He again tapped the * key. The explosion caused him to rip out his ear-piece. He looked up to see the entrance now in tatters. He covered his ears and squinted from the pain of the blast. Ears still ringing, he shook out the c
obwebs and put the ear piece back. He again turned his attention back to the primary location. He closed his eyes in order to heighten his acuity as he listened for voice and footfall of the enemy.

  Moments later, he was rewarded with both. “Come to me, said the spider to the fly,” he whispered as he watched the lead soldier, the one he knew as Ira reach for the breaker. Having learned from the first blast, Brent removed his earpiece as Ira flipped the breaker. It seemed like slow motion, watching the steel door begin to slide open. As it passed under the solenoid, the entire tunnel entrance blew. Bodies flew in all directions, each dead before they hit the ground. Good work, Malcolm, he thought as he viewed the carnage. Miraculously, the walls did not collapse and there was little damage to the tunnel itself.

  Remembering what Joan had taught him, he again tapped the keyboard and turned his attention back to the front entrance of SIA. With silent resolve, he watched Red’s SUV come to a screeching halt in front of the doors.

  As Red exited the vehicle, searing anger could be read on his face.

  Brent pulled out the confiscated phone from his pocket and punched speed dial. Red was about to pull Maddie from the back seat, gun aimed at her head when his phone vibrated. Seeing the number displayed on the LCD, his face flushed to a deep purple.

  “It seems we have a problem, Ambassador.” He pulled Maddie and Chloe from the vehicle, shoving them to the ground.

  “All your men have been exterminated. I suggest an exchange,” Brent calmly stated.

  Red laughed as he kicked Maddie in the side as she attempted to rise. “What do you have to exchange? I hold all the cards,” he said in a heavy Irish accent.

  “Not quite.” Brent rose from the chair, readying himself to take leave. “You hold a false hand, Father Reilly, or do you prefer Red?”