Evelyn.
Xander popped up to his feet and moved forward toward the door. He could still hear the pop of gunfire coming from the levels above him. He remembered thinking that there must have been a lot more men there than intel expected. He readied himself to kick in the door, but before he could raise his leg, the doorknob turned and the door crept open in front of him.
Xander crouched into ready stance, pistol extended in front of him.
“Let the girl go and I’ll let you live!” Xander shouted toward the room in front of him. His voice echoed off the concrete walls that surrounded him, making him jump inside himself. He waited for a response, but all he could hear was a woman’s muffled moans, sounding as if she was struggling to get free.
“Last chance, I’m coming in!”
A man with a thick, almost inaudible Middle Eastern accent spoke up. “You come in, she die, you die!”
Xander could tell by the sound of the man that he was frightened, and that he would shoot the first thing that moved through that door, on reflex alone. He also discerned that the man was most likely standing on the left side of the room, along the inside of the same wall the door was on.
“Ten seconds!” Xander shouted. He then tiptoed quietly back into the basement and snatched up one of the bodies of the men he had shot moments ago. He hoisted him up on his shoulder and walked back toward the door.
“Five, four . . .” Xander kept walking. “Three, two . . .” As the number “one” came out of Xander’s mouth, he threw the body as far into the room as he could. Just as he had suspected, the man fired immediately into the body. Before the gunman could turn his gun back toward Xander as he walked into the room, Xander popped two bullets in the man’s chest, and the man’s gun and the girl dropped from his hands to the ground. His body held its stance for a moment, then, like a freshly chopped tree, he toppled, face forward, to the concrete below, with a bone-rattling thump.
Timmberrr, Xander thought.
The woman squealed through her duct-taped mouth and squirmed away from the now dead man who had been holding her at gunpoint. Xander holstered his gun and pulled a knife from a slot in his combat boots.
“It’s okay, miss, United States Navy,” he told her as he cut her hands free. She ripped the duct tape from her face and threw her arms around him, sobbing. He lifted her to her feet as she continued to cling to him.
“Thank you,” she cried. “Thank you so much!”
“Don’t thank me yet. Not till I get you out of here. Are you okay to walk?”
“Y-yes, I’m good.”
“All right, stay behind me. I’m gonna get you out of here.” She hugged him again, and he pressed the com button on his headset. “Blackbird, this is SEAL team seven, do you copy?” Xander waited. Evelyn tried to calm herself, but the tears kept coming. The relief on her face made Xander feel like a hero. What had just happened seemed like such a blur, almost as if there was someone with a controller moving him along in a video game or something. It was so surreal. “Blackbird, I repeat, this is SEAL team seven. Do you read me?” Another pause followed.
“We read you, SEAL team seven, go ahead,” a muffled voice finally said back to him through his earpiece.
Xander felt a rush of relief flow through him. “Blackbird, the chicken is in the coop, we await extraction instructions.”
The chicken is in the coop? What the hell is “the chicken is in the coop”?
Xander knew the boys were going to have a field day with that one. But so what if they did. He’d gotten the girl.
Call me rich-boy rookie now, he remembered thinking.
“SEAL team seven, be at the extraction point in three minutes,” the voice instructed.
“Three minutes, over,” Xander replied.
Ron had come on line after that. “Rookie? That you?”
“This is King. I have the girl in the basement. Is it clear to come up?”
“Nice work, King. We’ll come to you. Derek?”
That was the first time he had been called anything other than rookie or rich boy. He had won their respect.
“No. Derek is KIA.”
“Shit. Hold your position. We’re on our way.”
Xander turned to Evelyn. “You’re gonna be all right, Ms.—”
“Evelyn, and I can’t thank you enough soldier—”
“Alexa—Xander, Xander King. Just doing my job, miss.”
“Well, thank you, Xander. You saved my life.”
Those words had never left Xander. You saved my life. He had never before imagined anyone saying that to him, and he certainly hadn’t imagined the weight it would carry.
If only I could have saved them.
The memory of his parents’ murder flashed before his eyes as he looked at her.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Xander heard Ron’s voice from the other room. Xander had taken Evelyn’s hand and walked out through the hallway and into the main room in the basement. When they entered the room, the four remaining SEALs were coming down the stairs and Ron was looking around the room at the carnage Xander had left in his wake. “You did all this, rookie? By yourself?”
Xander nodded.
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. If Anderson liked you before, he sure as shit’s gonna love you after he hears about all this. You’re like a goddamned Rambo or somethin’,” Ron said, his mouth agape.
“He’s my hero,” Evelyn added. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his shoulder.
She called him that several times—her hero—over the next week as she thanked him the best way a woman can thank a man.
Red lace lingerie and all.
Upon Sam’s nod, Kyle brought down the engines, and that snapped Xander out of his trance. It was game time.
“I figure we are about half a mile from shore,” Sam said.
Xander could hardly see her it was so black. They couldn’t risk lights in the boat, just in case someone might be watching the water from the compound. There was a faint view of lights in the distance, but overall it was fairly dark on land as well. Sean pulled the diving gear from under one of the seat cushions, and he, Sam, and Xander fumbled around with the oxygen tanks and goggles. They secured their weapons and began to slip on their flippers.
“Where’s my gear?” James asked from the opposite end of the boat. He was rummaging through the storage, but there wasn’t any more scuba gear to be found. Sam had only appropriated enough for three, and originally it was for James, but that was before Sean had decided to come along.
“I’m sorry, James, there isn’t any more,” Sam answered.
“What? You said I was going in with you. Sean, is it? Give me your gear.”
“Buddy, you’re as nutty as squirrel shit if you think I’m gonna sit out here on this boat while my boy goes into enemy territory.”
“I’ll show you nutty, country boy!” James shouted as he lunged forward at Sean. Somehow in the darkness, Sean’s fist found James’s mouth, dropping him to the deck of the boat. The boat wobbled in the water as James’s weight shook the entire vessel.
“That’s enough!” Sam shouted. She realized shouting was a bad idea with the way sound carried over water, so she lowered her voice back down to a whisper. “That’s enough. James, Sean has been on many missions with Xander; it makes more sense this way. You man the com system and keep Kyle safe. We will radio when we need you two to come with the boat. Be ready with your gun then. We will certainly need some cover on the way out.”
James didn’t protest. A cloud floated eastward, giving way once again to the light of the moon. Xander could now see James sitting up and wiping blood from his lip. Sean looked over at Xander and gave him a wink. Xander smirked briefly, and then went back to securing the final strap on his right flipper.
Sam continued. “Kyle, obviously, keep your headset on. When we are finished, or if we need backup, we will call for you. You won’t have cover coming in, so you will just have to be quick. I know Xander will hate
me saying this, but it must be said . . .”
“Nothing good ever follows a comment like that,” Kyle remarked.
“No, it doesn’t. You’re right. But it can’t be avoided. If you haven’t heard from us—”
“All right, that’s enough, Sam,” Xander interrupted. “Kyle, we will see you in one hour.”
“Xander, we must have a contingency plan. Kyle must know what to do in case we don’t make it out alive,” Sam insisted.
“She’s right, I won’t know what to do unless there’s a plan,” Kyle said. Xander stood up, giving his full attention to Kyle.
“How long have we been doing this?”
“I know, X, but this is different.”
“Kyle, how long?”
“I don’t know, four, maybe five years?”
“Okay, and how many times have I missed my mark?”
“N-not once, X. Never.”
“That’s right, never. I’ll call for the boat in one hour. Be ready.” Xander didn’t flinch as he peered through the darkness into Kyle's eyes. What Xander understood that Sam didn’t in that moment was that any amount of doubt, no matter how small, would eat away at Kyle the moment they all left the boat. That hour would seem like a day. If Xander let Sam explain what happens if they all die, the only thing Kyle would think about over every agonizing minute they were gone was death, and failure. Xander knew that logically Sam was right. There was a strong possibility that this wouldn’t work, and Kyle wouldn’t know what to do, but Xander knew Kyle would come like the cavalry and get himself killed for no reason if he was thinking the worst out on that boat. Xander had seen this firsthand on a number of missions he had been on with rookies. As cruel as it sounded not to have a backup plan, it was actually the best thing for him.
“Xander,” Sam started again, “we cannot leave him—”
“Sam, we’ll see him in one hour,” Xander said to her with a glare. She had known him long enough to understand there was reason for him saying what he was saying to Kyle. She let it go. Xander sat back down, this time with his butt on the railing. He nodded to Sean and Sam, and they joined him in a seated position at the rail. They made some final adjustments to their equipment, secured their mouthpieces, and with a nod to Xander, Sam and Sean dropped backward into the deep darkness of the Mediterranean Sea.
Kyle walked over to Xander, who looked up at him from his seat on the boat’s rail. “One hour, right?” he asked, a sound of pleading in his question.
“One hour,” Xander answered with confidence as he secured his mouthpiece.
Kyle held out his fist, and Xander gave it a knock just before he fell backward into the water.
29
Khatib Is Ready: Too Ready
The compound buzzed like a beehive. Normally after midnight there wasn’t nearly this much movement, or this many soldiers. It was as if they were preparing for battle. On the third and top floor of the compound, sitting at his desk, rolling a coin along the tops of his fingers, was Sanharib Khatib. It had come to his attention a day ago that he was being targeted by an American rebel. Khatib never even asked his source why a random American might be targeting him. You see, with a man like Khatib there could be a thousand reasons. None of them mattered. Word came that there would be three of them and that one of them just might be one of the most spectacular killers on the planet. This of course didn’t frighten Khatib. He had seen far worse in war than any one man could bring down on him.
Still, he prepared. He doubled his security at the compound to what he felt was a ridiculous forty armed men. According to his source, this American should be arriving any moment. He told his men that an example would be made of this American and broadcast for all the Western world to see. He instructed his men to add ten extra security cameras, and they would edit the video after this man was killed to show the world what happens when you mess with ISIS. Khatib, even though his source told him the United States government was not involved, of course still assumed that they indeed were. He would send them a message as well, that if they wanted to shut him down, it would take a lot more than one measly American assassin. He laughed to himself as he thought of Jason Bourne from the American movies. He enjoyed those movies, and it amused him that the Americans believed it could be a reality. Khatib wasn’t some soft villain living inside of a make-believe world. He believed himself to be a god. So far, no one had ever been able to prove the contrary to be true.
* * *
James walked from the front of the boat to where Kyle was sitting in the captain’s chair. Blood still trickled down his lip from its meeting with Sean’s fist. He sat down across from Kyle.
James reached out his hand. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced. James.”
“Kyle.” He took James’s hand. James gave what Kyle thought to be an overly firm shake.
“I’m not interrupting you, am I?” James asked.
“No, just sitting on pins and needles here really. Watching them drop down and disappear into that dark water is a scary sight.”
“Scary indeed, mate. Listen, mind if we have a chat?”
Kyle sensed arrogance in James. He always thought British accents sounded arrogant, so maybe that was all it was. “I don’t mind. Have at it, bud.”
“Bud.” James laughed. “You Americans love that term. Especially you country boys.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s a lot like you all with your ‘blokes’ and ‘mates.’”
“I suppose you’re right. So, bud, how long have you known Xander? Has he always been wound so tightly?”
“You’d be wound tightly, too, if you knew what he’s been through,” Kyle answered, a bit put off by James’s sentiment.
“No disrespect, mate. Apologies.”
“We’ve been friends for almost twenty years.”
“Twenty years? Really? That is quite a long time. You must know everything there is to know about him.”
“Pretty much. If he’s been through it, I’ve been through it, and vice versa.” Kyle sensed a really condescending and awkward tone from James.
“I bet. So, whatever would cause a man to embark on such a mission as tonight? Swimming straight into suicide really.”
“Well, James, if I’m being straight with you, it’s really none of your business.”
“Oh, we’re being straight, are we?” James said snarkily.
Kyle sensed a sharp change in James’s tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, as long as we are being straight, let’s pass the time and play a little game. How ‘bout it?”
“I’m not really in the mood for games. Why don’t we just go back to ignoring each other, my man.”
Kyle was on edge now. James stood up and walked toward the front of the boat. With his back turned to Kyle he looked up into the empty sky.
“Come on, old chap, let’s play a game called Have You Ever. What do you say, mate?” James turned back to Kyle with both arms palms up and out to his sides. He wore an almost maniacal grin on his weaselly little face. Kyle said nothing. “All right then, I’ll go first. Kyle—bud—have you ever held a million pounds—dollars—in your hand?”
“No,” Kyle answered, almost grunting.
“No, I figured not. I can tell you really don’t like this game, and I am bored with you, so I’ll just get straight to the point.”
Kyle shifted in his seat as a pit formed in his stomach. Xander would have already sniffed out what was coming, but Kyle had not yet learned this part of the game.
“Your dear friend Xander, I’m afraid, he is, as we speak, swimming to his certain death. He, Sam, and that redneck you brought along last minute. I hated to have to do it to Sam; she is quite the piece of ass, I tell you.”
Kyle stood up from his seat. “What the hell are you talking about?” The pit in his stomach had turned into the size of a bowling ball.
“Well, you see, the reason I asked you if you’d ever held a million dollars is because I have. This morning actually, when San
harib Khatib handed me a briefcase full of money to give him the specifics of what exactly was going down tonight.”
“You motherfucker!” Kyle lunged at James, but before he could close the distance between them, James pulled a gun and let out a ghoulish laugh that echoed over the surrounding water. Kyle froze in his tracks as he stared down the barrel of James’s pistol.
“Aw, was it something I said, mate?” James grinned a devilish grin as he took a step forward and put the gun just inches from Kyle's forehead.
“You son of a bitch, how could you do this? You’ve been hunting Khatib for years!” Kyle's voice cracked with fear.
“I’m certain I just told you how. But again, since you’ve never actually held a million dollars in your hands, you couldn’t possibly understand what it feels like. What freedom feels like.” James preached with delight.
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