Section 8

by Bob Mayer

  Moreno raised his arm to signal release of the agent.

  *****

  Vaughn passed through 3,000 feet, and Tai was now alongside him in a very steep dive. “They’re going to do it,” she yelled into the radio.

  And with that she went vertical, head down, terminal velocity, outstripping Vaughn, who was still maintaining a stable position in order to be able to deploy his parachute.

  Two thousand feet.

  Vaughn went fully stable and reached for his ripcord, his eyes on Tai, who had to be a thousand feet below him and belatedly trying to do the same. He pulled his rip cord and was jerked from horizontal to feet down, head up, controlled descent. He immediately grabbed the toggles and dumped air from the chute.

  Below him, Tai pulled her ripcord while still falling at a rate of speed beyond what was safe. The chute deployed, and the opening shock was so great, the straps of her harness ripped into her body. Her left thigh, taking the strong point of impact, dislocated out of the hip joint.

  Tai screamed in pain. Worse than her pain, though, was the fact that the chute had not been designed to take such an opening. With a ripping sound, several seams split open in the canopy. She was less than two hundred feet above the submarine and falling fast.

  *****

  Moreno heard the scream of pain—coming from above. Startled, he looked up and saw the two parachutists, one of whom was coming down very fast. Then he heard another sound, which distracted him: helicopter blades. Turning to the east, he saw a Blackhawk helicopter coming toward them low and fast.

  “Do it now!” Moreno yelled.

  The suited man put his hand on the knob that would open the flow of nerve agent into the high-powered sprayer.

  *****

  Through tears of pain, Tai saw the man in the protective suit put his hand on the knob less than a hundred feet below. Ignoring her injuries, she reached up and grabbed the toggles. She aimed herself, then dumped what little air was left.

  A hundred feet above her, Vaughn saw what she was doing as he untied his MP-5 from the rig.

  Tai hit the man at the sprayer at forty miles an hour, smashing him into the metal deck with a sickening sound of bones breaking in both their bodies. The two lay sprawled on the deck, motionless.

  *****

  Cursing, Moreno jumped to the ladder and slid down to the deck. He ran forward from the conning tower toward the sprayer. As he ran, he pulled out the remote detonator. A burst of bullets ricocheted off the deck in front of him, but he ignored them.

  *****

  Vaughn had a choice between controlling his landing or firing once more. He chose to fire.

  The second burst hit Moreno, stitching a pattern from his right hip up his side, with the last round hitting him in the head, killing him instantly.

  Vaughn dropped the gun and grabbed the toggles. He was able to make one adjustment, then hit the side of the submarine hard. The only thing that saved him was the parachute draped across the deck, snagging on some tie-down points, preventing him from sliding down into the water.

  Reaching up, he used the risers to pull himself onto the deck. He drew his knife and cut loose from the parachute. Hearing the clang of a hatch opening somewhere farther back, probably in the conning tower, he knew he had little time. He ran toward the sprayer, leaping over Moreno’s body, when he saw something that caused him to abrupdy halt.

  Moreno’s lifeless hand held a remote detonator.

  A shot rang out. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw someone taking aim with an AK-47 from the conning tower and a second armed man appear. There was no time for any other choice. Vaughn ripped the detonator out of Moreno’s hand and pressed the red button.

  The submarine shuddered as the first charge, in the engine room, went off.

  Vaughn didn’t wait for the rest to go off. He dropped the detonator as bullets whistled by his ears, the aim thrown off by the explosion. Grabbing hold of Tai’s harness, he rolled with her off the boat, into the water.

  A second explosion went off on the submarine.

  Vaughn cut Tai loose of her parachute, then swam with all his might, towing her, trying to get as far away as possible from the imploding submarine.

  *****

  Royce saw the tongue of flame jet out of the conning tower, killing the gunmen. The rear quarter of the submarine was already below the surface, dragging the rest of the craft down. He could see the two swimmers. He knew he should leave them, but the crew of the chopper had also seen them and the pilot was already directing the craft toward them. He remained quiet.

  *****

  A safety ring attached to a lift line splashed into the water ten feet away. Vaughn swam to it and hooked both Tai’s and his harnesses up to the line. He gave a thumbs-up and was lifted out of the water.

  He looked over at the sub. The bow was lifting out of the water as another explosion blew open a hole near the torpedo rooms. Within seconds the sub slid back into the water and was gone.

  Hands reached out of the chopper, pulling him and Tai inside. Vaughn sprawled on the floor as the medics went to work on her. Looking over, he saw a man sitting on the rear bench, staring at him.

  Royce.

  CHAPTER 20

  Vaughn sat in the stiff plastic chair next to the hospital bed and stared at Tai. She was unrecognizable in the casts and bandages that swathed her body. She had not regained consciousness in the twenty-four hours since they’d been plucked out of the water. The doctor had been by a while ago and told him they would have to take her back into surgery soon. And the prognosis on full recovery was not good. But she would live.

  The door to the room on the secure floor of Tripler Army Medical Center swung open and Royce walked in. Since being hustled off the helicopter at the hospital helipad, Vaughn had not seen his recruiter.

  Royce grabbed another chair and sat on the opposite side of the bed. The two men stared at each for several minutes without saying a word.

  Royce finally broke the silence. “You should be dead.”

  “I should kill you,” Vaughn replied.

  “It was nothing personal,” Royce said.

  “It wouldn’t be personal either when I kill you. Just a job.”

  “And then?”

  Vaughn didn’t say anything.

  Royce leaned forward. “Listen. This whole thing. I got brought in at the last minute. It’s dirty work, and—”

  “Who gives you your orders?” Vaughn asked, cutting him off, not wanting to hear the bullshit excuses.

  “I don’t know,” Royce said. “That’s a question I’ve begun to ask myself.”

  “A little late for that perhaps?”

  “Better late than never,” Royce said, “which is trite, but true in this situation. I thought for many years I was working for Uncle Sam. Just deep, deep cover. But...”

  “But?”

  “Now I’m not sure. This is all so big and so secret. I can go anywhere in the world and make a phone call and get support.”

  Vaughn gestured at Tai. “She works for Uncle Sam. And she was trying to figure this unit out. Section Eight. What the hell it was.”

  Royce nodded. “My best friend was killed when the Organization—which is what we called it—found out about her having infiltrated the team.” Royce paused. “That’s not exactly true. I think it was part of it, but he was retiring. And retiring from this Organization obviously means permanent retirement from life.”

  Vaughn realized there were two sides to this coin and that everyone was being played—and the playing field was brutal, with no quarter given.

  “You have no idea what this Organization is?”

  Royce shook his head. “I get everything via text messaging from someone called the High Counsel. The only person above me I ever met face-to-face was my boss—and friend—David. And he told me very little.”

  “Some friend.”

  “That’s the way the Organization operates. Compartmentalized and covert.”

  “And now?” Vaughn ask
ed. “Since I—and Tai—are supposed to be dead?”

  “You are dead,” Royce said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve reported everyone from both teams KIA.”

  “So we’re free?”

  “No.”

  Vaughn had known that was going to be the answer. “So what—”

  “I want you to work for me.”

  “I tried that,” Vaughn said. “Then you tried to kill me and I barely made it out alive.”

  “But you saved Honolulu. We saved Honolulu. That was good work.”

  “We were lucky,” Vaughn said.

  Royce nodded. “All right. We were lucky. The Organization—while most of the missions I’ve run for it have been illegal, they’ve always had a goal that made sense in terms of defending the United States. But...” He trailed off into silence.

  “But you want me to work for the Organization?”

  Royce shook his head. “No. The Organization thinks you’re dead. I want you—and her,” he added, nodding at the body lying between them, “to work for me. To find out who and what the Organization is. It’s going to be very hard and very dangerous. And I’ll still be working for the Organization while you’re doing it.

  “So things might get confusing at times. But I want you two to be my ace in the hole.”

  “And if we find out the Organization is really our government, trying to do the right thing, via shady means?”

  “Then I’ll cut both of you loose and you can start new lives with new identities.”

  “And if we find out the Organization is bad, doing the wrong thing?”

  “Then we take it down.”

  The End

  Other Books

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  About the Author

  NY Times bestselling author Bob Mayer has had over 50 books published. He has sold over four million books, and is in demand as a team-building, life-changing, and leadership speaker and consultant for his Who Dares Wins: The Green Beret Way concept, which he translated into Write It Forward: a holistic program teaching writers how to be authors. He is also the Co-Creator of Who Dares Wins Publishing, which does both eBooks and Print On Demand, so he has experience in both traditional and non-traditional publishing.

  His books have hit the NY Times, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal and numerous other bestseller lists. His book The Jefferson Allegiance, was released independently and reached #2 overall in sales on Nook.

  Bob Mayer grew up in the Bronx. After high school, he entered West Point where he learned about the history of our military and our country. During his four years at the Academy and later in the Infantry, Mayer questioned the idea of “mission over men.” When he volunteered and passed selection for the Special Forces as a Green Beret, he felt more at ease where the men were more important than the mission.

  Mayer’s obsession with mythology and his vast knowledge of the military and Special Forces, mixed with his strong desire to learn from history, is the foundation for his science fiction series Atlantis, Area 51 and Psychic Warrior. Mayer is a master at blending elements of truth into all of his thrillers, leaving the reader questioning what is real and what isn’t.

  He took this same passion and created thrillers based in fact and riddled with possibilities. His unique background in the Special Forces gives the reader a sense of authenticity and creates a reality that makes the reader wonder where fact ends and fiction begins.

  In his historical fiction novels, Mayer blends actual events with fictional characters. He doesn’t change history, but instead changes how history came into being.

  Mayer’s military background, coupled with his deep desire to understand the past and how it affects our future, gives his writing a rich flavor not to be missed.

  Bob has presented for over a thousand organizations both in the United States and internationally, including keynote presentations, all day workshops, and multi-day seminars. He has taught organizations ranging from Maui Writers, to Whidbey Island Writers, to San Diego State U
niversity, to the University of Georgia, to the Romance Writers of America National Convention, to Boston SWAT, the CIA, Fortune-500, the Royal Danish Navy Frogman Corps, Microsoft, Rotary, IT Teams in Silicon Valley and many others. He has also served as a Visiting Writer for NILA MFA program in Creative Writing. He has done interviews for the Wall Street Journal, Forbes, Sports Illustrated, PBS, NPR, the Discovery Channel, the SyFy channel and local cable shows. For more information see www.bobmayer.org.