Operation Zulu Redemption--Complete Season 1

by Ronie Kendig

  “Except?”

  Houston grinned, a tech geek in his element as he pressed the remote and a series of neon blue panels flashed over the screen, highlighting certain entries in the shipping ladings. “Except these.”

  Trace wasn’t the only one leaning forward. “They’re imports.”

  “Bingo! Score one for the commander!” Houston beamed with exultation. “They’re imports.”

  “Where are they coming from?”

  Houston sniggered. “That’s the question, isn’t it? Because you, of course, noticed there’s no origination scan to match these records as there is for every other shipment.”

  “You’re telling me that a world-renown defense contractor is buying illegal weapons, and…what?” Annie pressed. She always did. She wanted solid proof. She had to be sure the rabbit they hunted was rabid before putting it down.

  “Black market,” Boone said.

  “Makes sense,” Rusty put in.

  “How?” Annie’s voice pitched. “They’re a billion-dollar company! Why would they need to deal in the black market?”

  “Because seven years ago, they were on the verge of filing for bankruptcy. Most companies in Greece were,” Boone said. “How did a company going under suddenly recover? Not just recover, but soar into the billions with profit returns?”

  “Exactly.” Trace returned to the head of the table. “Our problem is figuring out who’s selling the weapons to them.”

  “And that is where I’m hitting a brick wall,” Houston said. “There is a highly encrypted file on that computer that I have not been able to break into. I believe that file will give us what we need to figure out the coded references attached to each entry.”

  “That’s the jackpot,” Boone said. “That person, that company—whatever, they’re responsible for murdering three of our team. They’re the ones out there right now, trying to lob off the rest of our heads. And with Keeley being poisoned in her hospital room, it’s clear they are actively pursuing each of us, still.”

  “Wait,” Nuala said, pushing up in her seat. “If they know who we are to target us, would it follow that they know our families? Is this a game changer?”

  Silence fell like an anchor.

  “Because while I haven’t talked to them, I still have a brother and mom out there.” She brushed her long bangs from her face. “I want to know if they’re in danger so I can warn them.”

  “No, I don’t believe so,” Trace said.

  “They hit my family—and David.” Arms and legs crossed, Téya held his gaze evenly. “Twice.”

  “Because you were living with them.” Trace motioned to Nuala and Annie. “You weren’t. You were concealed within your pseudonyms.”

  Téya’s eyes blazed. “So, it’s my fault.”

  “Negative,” Trace said. She would not bait him into a confrontation. He had expelled too much energy already on frivolous arguments. He wouldn’t engage here on his own turf. “They went to Bleak Pond to find and neutralize you. But you were already gone, so they hit those familiar with you.”

  “And then they went back, hurt him again. Snatched my grandmother. Because I got away.”

  “It’s true—they were trying to draw you out.” Trace pointed around the room. “Don’t let these dogs put that guilt on your shoulders. They are the ones murdering. Not us. The others did not and do not live with family. Your true identities are not known.”

  “They know me,” Boone said, knuckling his jaw. “I’ll put my parents on an Alaskan cruise. They’ve been wanting it. Can’t get my brother out of the way. If he thinks something’s up, he’ll be more bullheaded than a dog with a scent.”

  “You mean, he’ll be just like you,” Rusty said with a chuckle.

  “I’m not bullheaded.”

  Laughter trickled through the room.

  Boone scowled. “I’m determined.”

  The laughter rose to a roar.

  “Hey.” Houston’s interjection killed the laughter. “Oh wow oh wow.” His eyes went wild, the overhead vent rustling his curls. “This…look at this. I’d been running various algorithms on Jessie’s info wall. Check this out!”

  Trace looked at the wall again, this time scanning a series of letters and numbers that slid and dropped over rows like Tetris pieces. It happened faster and faster until they ended with a list of names. “What is this?”

  “A list.”

  “No duh, Curly Locks,” Boone said. “What names are those?”

  Houston bent forward, scrolling up and down. Going back. “I–I’m not sure.”

  “I know,” Nuala said, pulling Trace’s attention to the petite girl. Her face had gone pale. She looked sick to her stomach. “It’s the names of the children.”

  Trace knew what children she meant, and it felt like someone had shoved a dagger into his heart five years ago and just grabbed the hilt again to dig it deeper.

  “How do you know that’s their names?” Annie asked, her question squeaking as Boone turned back to the image on the wall. “We didn’t know their names. Did we?”

  “Footage,” Nuala said, her voice dull. As if she were in a trance. “I watched the videos and interviews afterward.” She met Trace’s gaze with a nod. “I know we weren’t supposed to, but I needed some closure. Something to stave off the nightmares. I wrote down the names. There were only a few publicly mentioned, three.” Her pale blue eyes looked like pools of water. “I memorized them”—she nodded to the wall—“Qayyima, Akifa, and Sawsan. They’re on that list.”

  “Wait,” Téya finally spoke up, her hazel eyes wide. “Look.” Her complexion paled.

  Confused, Trace glanced at the screen. Then back at Téya. “What are you seeing?”

  “It’s what I’m not seeing—the Lorings!” She brushed her hair from her face. “The kids aren’t listed there.”

  “But they didn’t die,” Annie said.

  “That’s not a list of the dead. There are too many,” Nuala said. “It’s a list of the children cared for by HOMe.”

  Boone came alive. “Think Jessie somehow got this from HOMe?”

  Though he didn’t want to believe a list actually existed, Trace couldn’t discount it. “It came from someone in the know. Hope of Mercy told us a list didn’t exist, that the facility was too new.”

  “Apparently not.”

  “But still—the Lorings.” Téya asked. “Why aren’t they on there?”

  “And now, they’re missing. Mighty convenient.” Boone rapped his knuckles on the table. “Ladies and Gentleman, I’m thinking we had the enemy right in our midst.”

  Trace

  Lucketts, Virginia

  10 June – 1015 Hours

  “May I have a word?”

  At the intrusion of Téya’s voice, Trace looked up from the table where he was reviewing the files Houston had uncovered. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back, tossing his pen down. “Sure. Come in.” Whatever she wanted to say, he hoped it brought answers about the two missing hours.

  Téya entered and took the seat at the corner next to him. She slid a small flash drive on the table. “What they promised.”

  He expelled a breath. “I’d started wondering if they pulled a fast one on me.” Pocketing it, he noted she hadn’t moved. “Heard you had some excitement on the mission.”

  She almost smiled, her expression taut as she stared at the table, seemingly lost in a memory.

  Trace sat forward. Leaned into her. “Téya, I’m on your side. Whatever—”

  “Red Wing is my stepfather.” She said it so fast and with such little emotion that Trace froze. Processed words he hadn’t expected. But then he recalled her military records. He’d studied each dossier in depth. “Hold up—your stepfather was a base commander, right? Records show him dying—”

  “In an accident that supposedly killed him and my mother. Apparently, my mother was the only unlucky one in that.” The news had hit Téya at the core of her being. Trace knew from her dossier that losing her mother had dev
astated her to the point of needing a therapist.

  Téya sat there, processing.

  And Trace took the time to do the same. To also note the cuts, bruises, and swelling on her face. “What happened, T?”

  “The mission went bad from the get-go. It’d been too many years since I’d been there. Things had changed. We got in, but we had to crawl through raw sewage. When I got in there, I realized the man I thought to be Nesim was in fact The Turk.”

  Track jerked forward in his seat. “What? I thought you were rescuing him!”

  “That’s what they told us,” she said with a nod. “But he lured me into that facility for one purpose—I thought it was to kill me once I realized who he was. But then he took me to a security room where I saw the camera feed. My stepfather is in that facility.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “Good,” she said with a laugh. “Because I wasn’t either. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t just tell me. Majid said that he knew I wouldn’t believe him if I didn’t see for myself that Georg was still alive.” She had this wistful smile now as she talked, and it unnerved Trace. Especially when she sat for several long minutes staring blankly at the time. But the flickering of her eyes, like an awake REM, told him she wasn’t here. She was remembering.

  “Téya?”

  “How much of a coincidence is it, Trace, that my stepfather is Red Wing, the one purported to be highly connected to whatever was happening in Misrata and beyond? What are the odds?”

  “Pretty high.” In fact, he’d call them contrived. Fake. “You said you saw your stepfather in security footage?”

  She gave a lone nod.

  “That could’ve been recorded. Faked.”

  “Perhaps,” she said slowly. “But I don’t think so. Even if it was, what would be the point of faking it, of telling me he’s alive?”

  “To throw us off. Get us on the wrong track?”

  “Why? How would that benefit him?”

  “He hunted you down in Paris and threatened to kill you to get you out of the way. I wouldn’t put it past The Turk to do that now, if something we’re doing interferes with his mission.”

  Téya nodded. Then nodded some more, as if sorting the facts and storing them. Finally, the consternation washed off her face and she straightened. “I want to go to Bleak Pond—no, I need to go.”

  “Té—”

  “I need to warn them, Trace. To warn David. I won’t go see my grandmother. She was too shaken when we rescued her,” Téya explained. “But I have to talk to David. Make him aware of the danger.”

  There was something else behind her reason, he could feel it. See it in her eyes. Did she want to go back to say good-bye? “Did The Turk make you an offer?”

  Téya smiled. “I need to go back, Trace. Please.” She touched his hand. “I’ll be back by nightfall.”

  “One condition—Boone goes with you.”

  “Boone’s grief-stricken.”

  “Rusty then.”

  Nodding, Téya finally relented.

  She hadn’t answered his question. She’d referred to The Turk by his given name. And now she wanted to return to Bleak Pond—and she’d told him rather than running off like last time. Trace had a sinking feeling Majid Badem was recruiting Téya out from under Trace. Stealing her.

  Téya

  Bleak Pond, Pennsylvania

  10 June – 0230 Hours

  With a kapp on and the familiar dress of the Amish, Téya stared down Augsburger Lane. David’s younger siblings and cousins played in the fields, having completed their chores. The older children were at the school building, though they’d be coming home soon.

  “You sure about this?”

  Téya flinched at Rusty’s voice then flashed him a smile she didn’t feel. “Yeah.” She tugged on the silver handle and pushed open the door. “Remember—watch for me from down the road.”

  He nodded.

  This could take an hour or it could be over in minutes. She strolled down the country lane, nervous and uncertain. Anxious. She had to warn David. More than that, she had to see him. Had to know that what happened in Frankfurt hadn’t changed her or anything else. She’d told Trace that she was worried about her family’s safety, but she wasn’t. At least, not as much. Majid had promised to put an asset or two in place.

  Are they here even now?

  The pull to scan the fields and tree line tugged at her, but she resisted. This wasn’t about Majid. This was about David Augsburger and Katie Gerig.

  Téya slowed to a stop, a nauseating knot tightening in her stomach. She didn’t even know who Katie was anymore. The kapp strings fluttered in a breeze, smacking her in the face. Stinging. Unfeeling.

  Just as she’d been when she walked out of Bleak Pond without looking back. So what if she’d cried the whole way? She’d left them. Left those she loved.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Again caught off-guard, Téya spun on her heels. David stood there in his brown pants, suspenders, and white shirt, leaning on a cane. Her heart clinched at the sight. She forced herself to act happy. “I thought you’d still have to rest.”

  His eyes bored into hers. “It’s boring lying about all day. A man needs to work.”

  She smiled. So like David—but with an edge. He was mad. At her.

  “Like I asked, what are you doing here, Katie?” The wind riffled his dark brown hair that hung longer than the men she was keeping company with lately. Trace and Boone had short-cropped hair. Rusty, a little longer but not by much. And Majid…

  No, not him. She wouldn’t think about him now.

  “I hoped we could talk,” Téya said as she walked toward him.

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

  “David,” she said with a nervous laugh, skating a look around to make sure nobody heard them talking, heard his harsh disdain. “I’ve never heard you talk to friends like that before.”

  “I don’t talk to friends like that.” His words carried the blade of a dagger, right into her chest.

  She wet her lips. She ached for the kindness he’d always shown her. For the reassurance that life would be okay.

  “Who was the man in the truck?”

  Téya started.

  “Maggie saw you ride into town with him,” David said, referring to his sister-in-law.

  “He’s a friend—just a man I work with. I don’t own a car, so he agreed to bring me.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was a close variant. As close as she could give to David. And that hurt, too. “David,” she said, stepping up to him and taking his hand.

  He stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Release me.”

  Shaken at his tone, at the disgust she saw in his eyes and heard in his voice, she stepped back. “What…what is wrong?”

  David cut his narrowed eyes to her. “Mrs. Gerig told me you’re a soldier.”

  Téya straightened, her lips parting in surprise as she pulled back.

  “It’s true, then?”

  “Dav—”

  “Leave us, Katie! Or whoever you are. Leave and don’t come back.”

  “David, you have to listen to me,” she said, abandoning the hope of his love. The hope that he’d still smile at her and tell her everything would be okay. “There are dangerous men after me.”

  “Yes, they nearly killed your grandmother and me then came back to try to finish me off.” He started back to the house, hobbling awkwardly on his still-healing leg.

  “David, I’m sorry.” Her throat felt raw, thick. “I never thought I’d have to go back.”

  “It’s better this way,” David said, stumbling as he moved quicker on his bad leg. “You don’t belong here, Katie.”

  Hurt and anger writhed in her chest. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this! This place, my grandmother—you were supposed to be my life. I wanted that. Can’t you see I loved you?”

  He stopped, the pebbles crunching angrily beneath his feet. With a shift, the rocks groaning beneath him, he held her gaze. “L
oved?”

  Had she said that? “No, love.”

  “You said loved. Past tense.” He squared his jaw. “Go back to your warring. To your fighting, Katie. You don’t belong here.” His eyes seemed to blur with unshed tears. “I could never marry a woman who killed people.”

  Those last words thrust the dagger deeper, twisting. Killing any hope of love and happiness she had left. Chin trembling, she backstepped. Tears blurred her vision. She wiped at them angrily, not wanting to lose sight of David. “Take care of her, please—my grossmammi. Please promise me that much!”

  He slowed but didn’t look back. Instead, his gaze went to the ground next to him. “Bleak Pond takes care of its own. Without weapons and violence.” His shoulders rose and fell as his voice trembled. “We use a more powerful weapon—love.”

  Annie

  Lucketts, Virginia

  11 June – 0900 Hours

  Beneath a mighty oak, Zulu had laid Keeley to rest. Annie and Nuala hooked arms with Téya as they stood next to the gaping hole in the earth, the one that mirrored the hole in their lives. In Zulu. Bible in hand, Boone read from the Twenty-Third Psalm, determined to give Keeley a “decent” sending off. He’d chosen to place her remains here on his property to keep her close, but also because she’d been buried once already. In a family plot back in Nebraska. The coffin her parents had placed in the ground was empty. The pine box being placed in the ground now, was not.

  A somber mood hung over the group. Boone for having lost Keeley. Zulu for also having lost a sister-in-arms. Something had happened to Téya when she went to check on her family back in Pennsylvania, though she hadn’t spoken of it since. And Annie bore a new grief, having witnessed flight 5792 out of Dulles at 4:15 that morning. Seated in seat 5F—Samuel Caliguari.

  Boone and Rusty shoveled the dirt over the casket in silence, each thump of dirt hitting the box sounding like a clap of thunder against their souls. She was gone. Keeley was gone. Jessie and Candice, too. Half the team. Annie couldn’t help but wonder who would be next. Her?

  While Rusty and Boone finished filling the grave site, Annie and the others went in and set up a small brunch. Nobody would send flowers. Nobody would bring meals.