Counter-Strike (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Novel Book 2)

by JT Sawyer

  Counter-Strike

  By JT Sawyer

  Copyright

  Copyright April 2016 by JT Sawyer

  No part of this book may be transmitted in any form whether electronic, recording, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction and the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, incidents, or events is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Join JT Sawyer’s Facebook page to follow his book research and to get updates on future releases. You can also receive information on survival tips by signing up for my email notices at http://www.jtsawyer.com

  Chapter 1

  New York, John F. Kennedy International Airport

  Professor Robert Schueller strode past the brunette stewardess inside the entrance to the 747, giving a perfunctory nod as he pushed by her with his black laptop bag. He could detect the faint fragrance of her hairspray, which resembled peach blossoms.

  He moved through the narrow aisle towards his first-class seat in aisle 4B and plunked down next to the empty blue seat. Maybe I’ll luck out and have the row all to myself. That would make for a good flight across the Atlantic. I could certainly use the time to review my research notes before this conference. As he adjusted a lumbar pillow behind his back, a petite half-Asian woman with her dyed blond hair in a long, braided ponytail, approached the aisle and scanned the seat numbers then glanced down at her ticket. She was wearing a white button-up blouse and a blue skirt with high-heels. Her light pink lipstick accentuated her sculpted cheekbones and brown eyes. Wow, I get to spend the flight next to such a beauty.

  “Hello,” she said. “I just made it—another ten minutes and they said I would’ve missed the flight. I think my taxi driver must have been on his first day of work.”

  Schueller detected a slight hint of an Oriental accent and her appearance indicated she was probably a businesswoman. The aroma of cherry hovered around her as she swished her hips past the armrest and bobbed into the chair beside him. He inhaled deeply while giving an awkward smile. Schueller tapped a foot nervously on the carpeted floor beside his laptop case. As she got comfortable, he made sure to keep his eyes forward and not stare at her shapely legs. Though he had been happily married for thirty-seven years to his wife Margo, he relished being in the presence of a beautiful woman. He reminded himself that she was half his age as he ran a hand over his follicly-challenged scalp, recalling his personal code when it came to other women: It doesn’t matter where you get your appetite as long as you dine at home.

  He opened his laptop and began reviewing some of his bullet points for his upcoming speech, hardly noticing the cabin door being closed.

  “Eek, that’s an old device. How can you even read the screen on that anymore?” she said. The woman half-giggled and swung her ponytail onto her shoulder. “Sorry, I just came from the consumer electronics convention in the Big Apple and I’m still seeing recurrent images of laptops every time I close my eyes.” She muttered to herself, “You’re not sitting at the trade booth anymore, girl.”

  “Are you a sales rep?” he said.

  “Sort of—I work as a software engineer for SONY.” She crossed her legs and leaned towards him, pointing to his laptop. “Chances are that my company did half the upgrades on your device there as that model was expanded back in 2014.”

  She touched his arm. “Oh my God, I just can’t turn the techie in me off. I’m sorry.”

  He smiled and turned sideways. “Not a problem. I know how consuming work can be.” He extended his hand. “Bob—and all I know about computers is how to turn ’em on and off.”

  “Jessica.”

  He closed his laptop and tucked it away in his briefcase, amazed at the animated delivery she just provided of something so mundane. “There, I’ll give you a break for a while so you can forget about work.” He was so taken with her scintillating personality and striking eyes that he never noticed the plane accelerating.

  “Ah, work, yes—this seven-hour flight is the only break I’ll have for the next week,” she said.

  “Me as well. I’ve gotta blab in front of a bunch of my colleagues in London.”

  “Are you a professional speaker—or an author?” She squirmed in her seat and touched him on the arm again. “Oh, I’ve never sat next to an author before.”

  “No, I hate to disappoint you. Not an author—just a college professor who stares at lab slides all day long, though I have written a few technical papers.” Their bodies fell back into their chairs as the plane angled upward into the sky.

  She laughed barely pausing to take a breath in between sentences. “Well, there you go, I am sitting next to an author after all.” Jessica yawned and sunk her shoulders into her seat as the plane levelled off. “Oh my, the steam is draining out of me. I knew I’d crash hard after this convention.” She looked at him with wide eyes then leaned towards him to whisper, her eyes darting around the cabin. “I didn’t mean actually ‘crash,’ you know.”

  He just grinned and then looked at the window, realizing how high they’d ascended. Whew—if this is what she’s like when she’s tired then what’s she like the rest of the time? If only I had her energy.

  When the stewardess came by, Jessica asked for a drink of vodka and a pillow. Forty minutes later, after more small talk, she fell asleep, leaning on Bob’s shoulder for much of the remaining flight. Not that he minded. Her lovely fragrance, which covered him like a velvety blanket, along with her vivacious personality made him forget briefly about the nature of his overseas visit to London. Schueller’s work as a professor of microbiology at Cornell University kept him confined to his lab for much of the year. Only a few family vacations allowed him to escape the demands of his work along with the bi-annual trip to England to discuss his scientific research in virology with a think-tank comprised of U.S. and European scientists. The only difference between Schueller and his colleagues was that he was a consultant to the CIA in their bioweapons division, though his work with them had diminished considerably in the past three years due to budget cuts. His employment with the agency was never anything illustrious or mysterious as he’d hoped in the beginning. Instead it usually involved a call a few times a year inquiring about the trade name for a new vaccine or asking what he knew about recent developments in pathogens that were being tested out by Asian researchers who had become, next to Russia, the top threat against the U.S. military.

  Schueller left his laptop tucked away and just ran through his mental notes while feeling Jessica’s head bob on his shoulder with each air pocket. He found himself dozing off a few times and was surprised to hear the overhead speakers announce their upcoming arrival at Heathrow.

  The stewardess came by to ask them to move their seats and trays upright and Jessica awoke with a startled expression. “Oh, heavens, please tell me I didn’t fall asleep on you and drool on your shoulder.”

  “You were fine, my dear. It wasn’t a problem.”

  She gathered up the small shoulder bag under the seat and checked her makeup in her cosmetic mirror, glancing over at Bob in between passes of her lipstick. “The company limo is picking me up at the airport and then I’m off to see my boyfriend.”

  After the plane came to a halt on the runway, Jessica stood up and touched him on the shoulder again. “Well, thanks for putting up with all my yapping and then my snoozing on your arm. It’s been a pleasure, Bob.”

  Schueller nodded and followed her out. “You take care and enjoy your down time.”

&
nbsp; As they walked off the plane towards the arrival area and made their way through the lengthy customs line, Schueller found himself getting hungry. He didn’t want to battle for a taxi to his hotel so he made his way to the Café Rouge. The vintage Parisian-themed restaurant wasn’t crowded and he was quickly seated at a side table near a floor-to-ceiling glass partition that separated diners from the pedestrian walkway.

  Thirty minutes later, after finishing a cognac and a filet mignon, he settled back in his chair to watch the human river beside the glass divider. To his right, he noticed Jessica standing near a newsstand. She was talking frantically on her phone, her hands gesticulating in the air and her face very taut. A few minutes later, she thrust the phone in her coat pocket and lowered her head, swiping her index finger by the corner of her moist eye.

  Poor girl—hope everything is alright.

  He watched her drag her luggage, her shoulders slumped forward as she made her way towards the entrance of the café. Schueller saw her talking to the maître d’ and being escorted in the opposite direction to a corner table. He stood up and called her name, waving his hand. Jessica’s forlorn look brightened slightly as she made her way towards him.

  “Would you like to join me?”

  She wrinkled her nose and smiled slightly. “Yes, that would be wonderful. I’d rather not be alone right now.”

  They made their way back to his table, Schueller ushering her into the chair and motioning to the waiter to bring another glass of cognac after seeing the young woman take notice of his drink.

  “My dear, you seem upset. Is everything alright?” He felt his paternal feelings pushing to the surface.

  “Apparently my boyfriend can’t make it tonight after all. Even though he swore to me yesterday that we’d go to dinner as soon as I returned. He said something came up at work again but I’m sure he’s having an affair with one of his co-workers. This brunette bitch I saw him flirting with at a work party last month.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jessica. That’s no way to be treated. Can I help in some way?”

  “I’ll be fine, thank you.” She slowly raised her head up, reaching for the cognac the waiter had just brought. “You’re very kind and a good listener—I wish more men were like you.” She paused and glanced at the thin silver watch adorning her pale wrist. “My company’s limo should be here by now, in the parking garage below. If you’d like I can give you a ride to your hotel.”

  “It’s OK. I wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward place with your employers.”

  “It won’t be a problem—you’ve just been so thoughtful. But I’ll understand if you don’t accept. You probably think I’m a foolish little girl rattling off about herself the entire time you’ve known me.”

  “Not in the least. We all get hit with a flurry of nastiness every now and then. You just seem to have been struck particularly hard. Life will lighten up.” He stood up and grabbed his luggage and briefcase. “I’d be happy to escort you to the parking garage.” Schueller pulled his shoulders back, feeling his chivalrous side emerging.

  Jessica dabbed a napkin around the base of her moist eyes then finished her drink before walking out with him. The crowds in the terminal had grown thin in between arrivals as they made their way to the elevators in a side hallway and proceeded to step inside the first one on the left.

  A minute later, the doors opened in the parking garage. A few feet away was a black limo with dark tinted windows, the engine idling. As he stepped out, Schueller saw two dark-skinned Asian men move in from either side of the elevator entrance, the one to the left punching him hard in the stomach with a nearly invisible motion of his hand. Schueller folded forward while he gasped uncontrollably for air, the cognac surging up into his throat. Amidst the impending nausea, he felt Jessica’s grip on his arm but it seemed much stronger than he remembered, as if she could snap his humerus in half.

  They dragged him to the back seat of the vehicle while Jessica handed one of the men the professor’s briefcase. Schueller saw her turn and talk to an approaching police officer. As the red-haired man came closer to Jessica, there was a blinding motion from her left arm followed by a glint of silver. The officer staggered sideways, clutching his neck while blood gurgled out from the cavernous opening in his trachea. She flung a soiled blade on the ground and pivoted towards the limo.

  Schueller’s heart was punching through his chest. God, who is this woman? How could I have misread her?

  He felt his stomach coiling in knots. Schueller tried to get out but his arms felt limp. Then he saw Jessica’s face as she closed the door behind her and sat next to him. She still had those same almond-colored eyes but now they resembled a deep whirlpool that he was being swallowed up within. Her voice had changed from being so airy to something that resembled a wraithlike growl. She shoved him back into the seat, his entire body still reeling from the sucker punch to the solar plexus that seemed to rattle his entire being.

  “What were your words?” she said. “Getting hit by a flurry of nastiness. I’m afraid that’s your predicament, Professor, and unless you want me to filet you like that officer back there, you’ll sit there and be quiet.”

  He sunk back and blinked hard at the dimpled leather ceiling, wondering if he was suffering from some kind of post-flight delusion as the vehicle sped along the parking structure and exited into the sea of traffic.

  Chapter 2

  Israel, Carmel Mountain National Park

  The sun was just cresting a ridge of thick cedar trees above a thousand-foot cliff of granite. The ocean breeze was carrying with it the sweet smell of blossoms from an orchard a few miles distant. Carmel Mountain was a nature reserve south of the city of Haifa off the Mediterranean Sea and the mountain was the highest point in the region at 546 meters. If a person climbed high enough, the border of Lebanon was visible. The park’s proximity to the sea provided ample precipitation to make the region lush with trees compared to the arid nature embracing the rest of the country.

  Mitch had arrived in Israel a month ago as a civilian contractor to head up the new combat tracker program for the Israeli military. Now, he was on the run from men whose grip on the region, on his whereabouts, was closing.

  He knelt down and examined the half-moon shape of a boot’s heel print on the dusty soil. It was hardly discernible amidst the duff-like material of spent cedar sprigs littering the forest floor. The size of the print along with the waffle-shaped tread pattern and direction of travel confirmed that this track was connected with the soldiers he had been eluding. He had fled downtown Haifa the previous evening and made his way into the forests surrounding Mount Carmel, hoping to lose his pursuers.

  Mitch took off his tan ball cap that had an Arizona Diamondbacks logo on it and scratched his sweaty scalp. He looked up and saw the looming image of Mount Carmel, which resembled a huge granite fist standing in defiance of the heavens. In another mile, he’d be at its base but not before he tried to turn the tables on his pursuers.

  His knees were sore from sleeping in a squatting position all night amidst a tangle of boulders. Adding to his discomfort was the rumbling of his stomach from not having breakfast which made him feel like he was a monk fasting in the wilds. The tantalizing memory of the grilled lamb and hummus dinner still clung to his taste buds and he recalled the adrenaline-soaked moment he saw the men coming for him in the outdoor restaurant in Haifa. He and Dev were enjoying a quiet dinner when he abruptly excused himself and fled inside, making his way to the rear exit and out into the tangle of streets. After an hour of evasive moves through the city, he’d managed to creep into the forests surrounding Mount Carmel and hide for the night. He was wondering what Dev was thinking and how he’d explain his actions when he saw her again. He was also questioning whether it would matter since she had been so aloof the past week.

  The lure of teaching combat tracking wasn’t the only draw for Mitch in coming to Israel. Since meeting Dev in Arizona last fall and their harrowing experience together, he had grown quite
taken with her. Her stunning beauty coupled with her considerable fighting prowess awoken feelings he hadn’t felt before for another woman. They had seen each other a few times since he arrived but her insane work schedule had prevented much of their relationship from developing. With some time off coming soon from his current teaching assignment, he was looking forward to getting to know her better. That is, if she could ever pencil him in. He was patient but knew that living in such a heavily populated region was grating on his nerves. He despised large cities and didn’t know if his mantracking contract would be enough to sustain him if Dev wasn’t interested in or capable of pursuing their relationship.

  His mind raced back to the present when he heard a twig snap twenty meters below him. Mitch strained his eyes in the post-dawn shadows and he saw five soldiers skulking along the narrow trail that wound past the ridge where he squatted. Come to daddy, boys. The predators are about to become the prey.

  The men were dressed in civilian clothing so they wouldn’t draw attention from the tourists that frequented the park but Mitch easily recognized the faces and gait patterns of the men he had been training for the past six weeks. We’ll see just how well you’ve learned your lessons, fellas, he thought to himself while scanning the route below where he had placed some small-scale foot snares under the pine needles. He’d made sure to walk on rocks and logs to obscure his passing. Route selection was the key in evading mantrackers. The notion of stepping back on your tracks or brushing them out with a handful of grass only worked in the fabricated reality of the movies.

  The problem with setting trail deterrents and mantraps is that it took precious time that the evader often didn’t have in abundance. Mitch always advocated gaining time and distance when being pursued by hostile forces and he knew he had violated his own training philosophy by trying to employ some Hollywood methods of slowing the trackers. However, he needed to see how good these guys were, especially if he was to sign off on their certification after this final culmination exercise. The entire drill had been revealed to his students only 72 hours before when he informed them in the classroom that they would be trying to capture a nefarious criminal in Haifa. They would receive the location and time of his arrival the day before but would have to practice their surveillance skills in the morning and then apprehend the subject that evening at a place of their choosing. What they didn’t know was that it would be their instructor and what Mitch hadn’t expected was that they would make a brazen attempt on him during dinner at an outdoor venue with plenty of people, one of whom was Dev, who he’d kept in the dark about the exercise. Damn, I wish I could’ve finished that fine meal of lamb, he thought, resting his hand over his growling stomach.