by Tony Lavely
She waved it off. “It’s okay. I have to get to where I can face it. Speaking of which, Ben ought to tell you about the trip in. He was asking questions—No, nothing impertinent, and I told him I’d refuse to answer anything I wanted to. He asked about Abby Rochambeau’s death, and it hit me kinda hard; I folded up in the seat and cried a little. I told him he should tell you, but no one else.”
“Why me?”
“Because I didn’t know if he’d take it as me being… like, unfit for duty or something. Weak. All ‘gurl-like.’ I didn’t want it to bother him, so he should bring it to you.”
He made a “Humpf” sound, then said, “I understand, though I can’t imagine anyone who knows anything about you thinking that.”
“Well, I have no idea what stories he’s heard…”
“Only the lascivious ones that are bound to embarrass a guy who’s already uneasy about working for a girl. ‘Cause, face it, you’re a damn fine looking woman, and the object of fantasies.”
“Fapping fantasies?” When Sam reacted, Beckie had to hold her sides to keep from exploding in laughter again. “What?” she finally gasped, “I’m not supposed to know that? Or maybe, about that?”
“Well, this isn’t where I thought our conversation would go. But, yeah.”
“So the stories are only about when Lissa and I stripped?”
“Not only. But those are the ones most revered, I think. The ones they listen to… Well, the Somali job and getting Amy Ardan out of Florida are pretty high on that list. Anyway, enough of this crap. The group Ian and I were dealing with, the stuff you brought in, most of it goes to them. And the sheikh there, he wants to meet you.”
“See if I’m worthy and all.”
“Yeah. He originally said he wasn’t going to deal with a woman, no matter how close to Ian you were, so you’ll have your work cut out for you.”
“Been there, done that, had the tee-shirt cut offa me.”
Sam grinned, white teeth blazing out of his black face. “Sounds like another story to make the rounds. Want to share?”
“Naw, you know it already. Wembley.”
“Ah. I don’t think I heard that part.”
“Well…” She swallowed hard; Sam’s eyes opened. Not gonna cry! “You can’t ask Kevin, but Derek was there, too. When you see him again. Where’s your guy gonna get his supplies if not from me? Someone lined up to take his money and cheat him?”
“I think he’s planning on pretending you’re not in the picture at all, that it’s all me.”
“That could work, too, I suppose. What happens when I pull you off for something else, then?”
“Let’s meet him and have you wallop the shit out of him first. We’ll face the rest when we need to.” He scrubbed his hand through his short black hair. “Hope you’ve got armor in there. Everything we have is too big for you.”
“Of course. I was planning on a sparring session with you before we left,” she teased.
“We don’t have to leave tomorrow… you’d have time to recover.”
Gives as good as he gets, she mused with an internal smile. Externally, she framed an expression she hoped he would take as thoughtful consideration. “I’d love it, but I’m not one of the group. I defer to the on-site commander in the matter of training and… operational duties.”
“I love you, Beckie.” Again his smile shone. “Just for that, we’ll do a light session, to see what you’ve forgotten, tonight before we chow down. Then we’ll leave tomorrow, as planned.”
“Aye, Cap’n! What’s the plan for the trip, then?”
“We’ll take three of the pickups… The box truck’s gone back. You and Doc Ardan… I think we’ll split you two up. You can ride with Ben and Gillian. Doctor Ardan goes with Jimmy and me. Ed, Imad and Shorty in the third… leaving Stacy and the Chief.” He pursed his lips for a second. “Ah… the doc won’t take up much room; they can ride with me.
Beckie and Sam talked about the trip on the morrow until Stacy smacked her hands together outside the tent’s opening. “Our evening repast is prepared, Captain and honored guest. At your leisure. Since it’s already cold, take your time.”
Beckie chuckled as the woman tramped away.
“How long for young, limber you to stretch?” Sam asked as he pushed through to the outside.
She jumped to get a foot between his legs and shoved with all of her hundred pounds. When he landed, she rolled so her hip would land above his lungs; the “Woosh!” when she made contact satisfied her. In a second, she had her knife out and the back of it against his throat. “I remember that lesson, too, Captain Dabron. No courtesy in a street fight.”
“Yield.” She took the knife away. “Well done. It wasn’t what I had in mind…” He took the hand she offered and stood. “… but it makes the point. Any of you want to grade her?” The rest of the team was standing in a semi-circle, watching.
“It was hard, Cap,” Gillian said. Beckie tagged the name because she wasn’t Stacy. “‘Cause, you know, you’re the leader, but she’s the boss, so when you fight, who do we side with?” She laughed but before it had fairly begun, Beckie spun and grabbed the woman’s shirt. As she yanked her face up close, she said, “You know the answer to that! You always side with the one who’ll have your back! You don’t know me from shit on the ground; he, he’ll be with you til the job’s over. You fight for him, ‘cause he’ll fight for you. When you know that about me, then you’ll have a decision.” She released the shirt and tugged it down straight. “Sorry… Gillian. Sam can tell you why I feel so strongly about that. Later.” She reached for Gillian’s hand to shake.
Gillian took it and returned the shake. “Yeah. I know that, believe me.” She dropped Beckie’s hand. “Good take-down. I know, since the Captain used it on me the second time we worked out.” Beckie grinned at the comment, and Gillian continued, “You’re quick. I’d like the chance to go with you.”
“Maybe back at the Nest,” Beckie said. “All of you are too valuable to risk with my poor control. Sam… The captain and I can go because he’s strong enough to keep me from hurting him even if I screw up. We know that from experience.” She waved at the others. “One or all of you maybe are, too, but I don’t know that, so… we’ll wait.” As Gillian stepped back, Beckie said to Sam, “Now that we’re warmed up a little, what next?”
Sam waved to the Chief. “Can you bring out those practice edges we use? Thanks.”
He hefted the two Bowie knives, tested their blunt edges and flipped one to Beckie. She went through the same exercise, testing the edge and point to see how dull they were. She could do damage, and she knew Sam could as well, but it would take a much stronger blow than either of them would normally use with a weapon like this.
“I appreciate that you used the spine of your blade, but it’s awkward, and unrealistic. We’ll use flak jackets and you’ll be able to strike the way you’ve been taught, without doing too much damage.”
“Sounds good. I’ve been eating too well; time to work some of it off.”
“You work anything off, you’ll blow away in the wind,” Sam said with a grin. “Let’s go.”
For fifteen minutes, Beckie and Sam fought. Standing, take-downs, running to gain a hoped-for advantage, swinging, always in control—Beckie remembered that lesson, too, and was sure Sam was trying to goad her into making the error, until she was so focused on it that she missed her footing and went down in a heap. Sam’s blade was at her throat before she could gasp at the shock of the fall.
“Yield,” she said between pants.
He sat back; Ben grabbed Beckie’s hands and helped her to sit. Beckie gave Ben a quick “Thanks,” that she hoped wasn’t too tainted by her surprise at his action.
“Pretty good, Boss,” Sam said. “I got to you because you were fighting something in your head, not me, not some random person.”
“Huh? What’s that mean?”
“I could see it in your eyes. You stopped watching my eyes and started seeing somethi
ng else. Not sure what. But when you did, that’s when you fell.”
She replayed the final few seconds. “Right,” she said, and hated the sheepish tone in her voice. She stood and again offered him a hand. “I was keeping control, the way you and Elena beat into me, and I focused on that instead of you. Then, that rock or whatever…” She kicked at the sand where her foot had caught, but only sand splashed away from her boot. “… cost my balance and Bam! I was dead. Good job; thanks.” She finished brushing sand from her uniform. “Let’s get some of that five star grub you’ve been promising me.”
Once the MRE’s had been finished, the team gathered for a review of the next day’s plan.
“We’ll check the loads tonight. Usual routine. There’ll be some moon in the morning, so reveille at 0430, on the road by 0500. There’s a good ten or twelve hours if all goes well.”
“Yeah, Cap, it went well once, at least.” Stacy said from behind the Chief. Beckie said nothing at all; this was Sam’s place. Follow; do what he needs.
From his appearance, Sam wasn’t concerned. “Make sure everything’s set and all the gear is ready.” The meeting went on a few more minutes while the sun set solidly into darkness. When he finished, Sam said, “Mrs. Jamse, a few words, please.”
“Sure, Cap’n.”
“What are you carrying?”
“Besides my knives, my P238 and… that’s it, I think. Body armor, like we talked.” She ducked into the tent. “What will I need?”
“Something with some punch to it. Your Sig-Sauer’s ok for defense, but not much good in a firefight. How many rounds and mags you bring?”
Beckie sucked her lower lip in and chewed on it, but not long. She knew the answer. “Not enough. Couple boxes of shells, but only… three mags. Eighteen rounds. What can you provide?”
He smiled. “In our operations, we sometimes have the opportunity to liberate items of… utility. Like a couple dozen of the Russian AK-47 knock-offs being used around here by everyone from school kids to granddads. And those trucks we’re taking; they followed us home one day, so I decided to keep them.”
“Good planning. If you don’t say it next, I will. With no experience handling an AK-47 knock-off, I’ll hold it in the right position and fire short bursts… from behind anything I can get in front of me!”
“Right in one. Willie checked you out on grenades, right?”
“Yeah. Those should be good. Can I say I hope this is all hypothetical?”
“Sure. Doesn’t mean the other side will say it, too.”
“Understood. What else?”
“Turn in. It’ll be a long, I hope boring ride.”
“Gonna blindfold me again?”
“Not til you go back. It’s the route from Turkey to here we need to protect. And our contacts at the border. Here, they’ll just kill us all and worry about what we were doing later.”
“Thanks for the words of confidence, Cap’n.” Beckie didn’t laugh, though she hoped he was making a joke.
“Night.” He dropped the cover across the opening to the outside.
Beckie unrolled the thin piece of foam she used as a bedroll and sat for several minutes. The silence was almost oppressive until it was broken by a distant goat’s bleating. The team made no sound that she could hear, though they were checking the trucks and setting a guard. I’m sure that’s not just because I’m here. Sitting cross-legged, she dropped her elbows to her knees and placed her head in her hands. That was over the top, Beck. Even joking you’re so important that these guys would set a guard to protect you and not do it for themselves. Get a grip!
Millie had given Beckie a soporific on the plane to help accommodate her to the six time zone change, so she wasn’t yet zonked out. But it won’t be long. She curled up on her mat and pulled the pack over as a headrest. She thought about Ian.
Something shook her foot, then shook it again. She came up out of wherever sleep had taken her to see Gillian holding the toe of her boot. “Oh four-thirty,” she said. “Time to have some more of that gourmet crap we get… Ooops, should’na said that.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Where’s the latrine?”
“You missed that part of the tour yesterday? Follow me.”
“Must have. Or slept through it, maybe.”
Gillian laughed. “Well, no one reported any movement in the compound, so…” She stopped and pointed. “Left side.”
Inside the almost ramshackle structure, Beckie relieved herself, then used her finger to brush her teeth. You gotta be better organized, Beck! She splashed a little water on her face and left to find Gillian waiting.
“You need anything? Supplies… you know.”
Beckie gave her a big smile of thanks. “I’m good. Next stop?”
“Gourmet delights to, what do they say? Tickle your fancy?”
“But not my palate, right?”
“Too true, too true.”
London. Memories came flooding back. And she and Ian at Stonehenge. Tripping on the sand again brought her out of it, just in time to see Gillian with a funny look on her face, eyes wide, but mouth twisted to the side. That must have looked… stupid. Especially when Gillian said, “You okay? Looked a little… unsteady, there.”
“Yeah. Not paying any attention to what I’m doing. A coffee will help.” She decided that a little caffeine would hurt the baby less than getting shot by not paying attention.
When Sam called for them to mount up, Beckie was already seated, nursing her one cup of coffee, waiting for Ben and Gillian. The moon was bright enough to navigate by; Ben took station behind Jimmy, driving Sam’s truck, and the convoy began the trek.
Hot, dry and dusty were the things Beckie remembered later. That and the echo inside her helmet. Occasionally, they passed trucks like the ones Sam had liberated: beat-up, most dirty white Toyotas. Some, like theirs, were crew cabs, a few, like theirs, sported puncture wounds that almost certainly had come from bullets. She was surprised at the distance they kept between them until Ben explained that, at the speed they maintained, they were close enough to keep one from being cut out of the line, and far enough apart to make sure not all of them could be ambushed together.
They’d crossed rough country to a road. Beckie’s Arabic reading skills were non-existent; neither Ben nor Gillian enlightened her, and she decided she had no need to know. They drove through a town, smaller than Beckie expected when the road crossed a bridge. “Over the Euphrates?” she asked. When Ben nodded, she said, “I see what you mean by the green here.” She waved at the farm land on both sides of the river. Back to hot, dry, dusty and now boring.
Until mid-afternoon, when Sam took a turn onto a gravel track between deserted fields, headed between hills ahead. Ben nodded. “That’s the turn.” He closed the distance a little, waiting for Imad, driving the tail-end truck. When they were all three headed toward the hills, Ben matched Jimmy’s speed again. Another fifteen minutes and Sam’s truck reached the small hills. The country road seemed to wander around the base of the hills; Beckie didn’t like the look of it much. She was about to say something when the lead truck jumped in the air in a cloud of dust and a little fire.
“IED,” Ben hollered. He followed the path Jimmy had until he was twenty or thirty feet away, where he stopped. He was out of the cab in a split second, running up behind Sam’s truck, his head turning like it was on a swivel. Beckie didn’t need any imagination to guess he was searching the hills for snipers or other combatants. Gillian followed Ben, though she’d paused to make sure Beckie’s helmet was on and shoved an assault rifle into her hands before pulling another out from behind her.
Beckie climbed out of the cab as the three from the last truck ran by. Imad signaled; Ed stopped and ran back to stand with Beckie. She waved him to the far side and, keeping close to the truck, they also swept the area for anything moving or out of place.
Ben waved and she followed Ed up to the lead truck. Everyone was now out, milling around in organized confusion; The Chief was holding a
rag to his forehead, but the others looked unscathed. “Millie,” Beckie called, “you need anything I can do?”
“Don’t get hit with anything. Might take all my supplies to fix this lovely visage.”
So, I guess he’s gonna be okay, if Millie’s making jokes. “Cap’n, you okay?”
“Yeah, except this is gonna put us behind schedule.”
“Being a newbie and all… I was wondering, why set an IED and then not be around to ambush whoever it catches? Could it be a diversion, like? Intended to delay us, but not really damage anything?”
“With people like you and me calling the shots, nothing’s out of the question. But that’s down on the list, I think. More likely someone set it to damage a passing vehicle. Anyway, Chief, you sit out of the way. Gillian, once Ben’s cleared the area, see how much damage. Will we have to load all that stuff on the other two trucks?”
Ben quartered the area, then waved an all-clear. Beckie watched him walking on up the road. “He’s not gonna walk the rest of the way in front of us, is he?”
“No, just a half-mile or so. But he’ll be in the lead truck from now on.” Sam watched as Gillian slid out from under the broken vehicle.
“Glad I bolted on that plate you picked up. Prob’ly saved Jimmy and kept the Chief from anything worse.”
“Good. How about now?”
“What have you done for me lately, huh?” Gillian groused. She waved at the hulk as she hiked off. “Push it out of the way. Without a whole front end, it’s going nowhere.”
They spent the next two hours transferring everything of value out of the wrecked vehicle, making what Beckie recognized from Saturday morning cartoons about moving vans with boxes and furniture piled high to the sky.
Jimmy again drove the lead truck, Ben and Sam beside him. Shorty and Gillian packed in the cab with them, leaving the others to squeeze into Imad’s truck. Stacy and the Chief donned robes and climbed up on the load to ride in relative seclusion, leaving Beckie and Millie in the cabin with Imad and Ed. After a few words to verify that the Chief would be okay once his sliced forehead healed, both women peered at the hills, hoping not to see anything. Nerves meant things kept popping up, at least that’s what Beckie saw, and she began to apply the ‘see it three times first’ rule before raising warnings.