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

by JT Sawyer

  ***

  The plume of flame resembled a green tadpole swimming skyward on Crenna’s laptop as he studied the low-resolution image sent from his aerial drone. He squinted, examining the small object flying away to the northeast. Crenna glanced down at his radio, waiting for a signal from his man on the ground. Wonder if that’s Masala or Kyle? He thought for a moment, rubbing a finger along his pudgy chin. “Better assume it’s the latter—guy just doesn’t want to stay dead.”

  Chapter 35

  After Mitch exited the building, he and Marco laid down a suppressing fire towards the treeline where the battle was unfolding. A few of the men in black were strafing them with rounds while trying to keep the remaining Suma mercenaries from advancing. As they ran for the treeline, he saw Von perform a long-distance headshot with his pistol, taking out a Suma mercenary who’d crept out from a nearby building.

  Petra and David had swung around and killed four of the men on both sides and regrouped with Mitch and the others near the edge of the jungle. Once he was certain they had gained some distance, Mitch told the group to halt near the airfield. He knelt down near a fallen tree whose massive root system resembled the petrified tentacles of a squid. Mitch studied the area around the remaining Huey helicopter, a carryover from the Vietnam War. Miles away in the cloudy sky, he saw another helicopter heading away. Then the base behind them ignited in a fiery explosion, shaking the ground and sending a blast of concrete and body parts throughout the skyline.

  He leaned back, looking at Dev, who was slightly conscious, then down at her wound. Her breathing was shallow and her skin ashen. Mitch knew her wound was severe and hoped she’d be able to hold on a little longer. He crept out a few feet and went through the vest of one of the dead mercenaries lying in the grass. He remove a grenade and some magazines but the man’s AR had a jagged rifle round through the damaged chamber and he tossed the now useless mags aside.

  He put his hand on Marco’s shoulder. “You still remember how to fly one of those birds, I hope?”

  “Yeah, no sweat, amigo. You cover my ass while I zip across this open area and fire that bitch up.”

  Mitch nodded then both men studied the surrounding jungle treeline again for any movement.

  “Here we go,” said Marco. He squat-ran across the ankle-high rice grass.

  Once the engines sputtered to life, Mitch raised his hand for the group to move forward. The two Israeli warriors carried Dev while Mitch and Von provided rear cover support. They quickly retreated inside the cabin and strapped themselves in, the barely conscious Dev leaning against Mitch’s shoulder.

  Mitch leaned forwards and handed his canteen to Schueller, who was in the front seat, then shouted above the rotor wash at Von, who was inspecting a comma-shaped cut on his shoulder.

  “Better patch some of those lacerations up. Things go septic here in the tropics fast though I’m guessing you already know that.” Mitch tossed him what remained of his trauma kit.

  “Yeah, will do.”

  “So, you wanna tell me what the hell you were doing strung up from the ceiling back there?”

  “I work with Interpol. I conduct training on how to identify smugglers for different government agencies. I was abducted a few nights ago while returning from a visit to the coastline. Thank God you found me when you did. I don’t know how much longer I would’ve lasted.”

  Mitch’s expression went stolid and he slowly raised the barrel of his AK towards Von’s chest. “One thing a cowboy like me can’t stand is a dishonest bastard who’d lie right to your face. Because you sure as hell look like the guy I saw at the airport in Munich a few days ago and then later in Kuala Lumpur, not to mention that I haven’t met too many Interpol workers who can make sixty-yard headshots. So, try again, because if I think you’re a serious threat to me and my friends, I got no problem having you go airborne.”

  “Alright, alright,” Von said, placing his hands up in the air. “One can’t be too safe with who you’re divulging information to. I work for a task force that’s been trying to track down terrorist groups operating out of remote jungle training camps in Indonesia. I was on the trail of Jessica Yin in Europe, a known associate of Kyle Redstrom, the man who kidnapped me from my hotel in KL a few nights ago.” Von patted the red welt on his neck. “A blowgun dart with sedatives can undo most of your training pretty quick.”

  “Uh-huh, task force, eh—got it.” Mitch shook his head. This guy seemed like a slick con-man who was used to sliding in and out of multiple personalities and cover stories. He’d worked with a few guys involved with clandestine agencies over the years and they always had a certain oily approach to the way they fielded every question. “You’re a spook’s more like it—a fucking assassin trained by our government.”

  Mitch gave him a stern look before Von could respond. “So were you sent here to extract Schueller and kill that leather-faced thug in the Banana Republic suit back at the lab or just eliminate everyone involved?”

  “Schueller has been a person of interest from the beginning but I didn’t know he was involved with Redstrom until I was abducted and taken to the facility.”

  “Bob wasn’t involved with that lunatic. His whole life has been about bettering the world not bringing it to an end.”

  “Sounds like you know the man—well.” Von sighed, his vision fixating on a small brown beetle sliding underneath the seat, then he looked back up at Mitch. “Sometimes the people we think we know well possess a wealth of masks. Redstrom wouldn’t be able to weaponize a virus by himself though he had most of what he needed. Schueller was the missing link.”

  “And who the fuck is this Redstrom? Is he a former Interpol guy too?”

  “Something like that. He was affiliated with the U.S. government at one time but then was tossed into a Chinese prison for two years after a deal went south.”

  “So he fucked up an op and his employers threw him to the wolves. Now he’s out for payback.”

  Von didn’t answer but continued to dab gauze on his laceration. “I need to get to some comms so I can relay a message out about a potential attack Redstrom is planning.”

  “Where—where’s the attack going to be launched?”

  “I have a strong hunch that Jakarta will be the target. That is where the Trans-Pacific Trade Delegation is going to meet tomorrow. Even POTUS will be there. That’s where I’d hit.”

  “You seem to know a lot about how a guy like this would think.” Mitch clutched his AK and canted his head. “Yeah, you’re a CIA or NSA guy or with some division within a division that has no nameplate on its office door. Is ‘Von’ even your real name—or have you forgotten what that is by now you’ve been lost in the shadows for so long.”

  Again, Von didn’t answer but just gave a nod towards the canopy below. “We shouldn’t delay if this rescue session is to have any meaning beyond saving your buddy and me.”

  Mitch lowered his pack and dug into a side pocket then handed him a satellite phone. “I want that back so call your boss or whoever you need to alert them about the threat.”

  While Von moved a few feet over near the door where the satellite phone would have reception, the rotor wash drowned out his voice to the others as he vehemently relayed his message. Mitch kept his rifle fixed on the man, feeling a tug on his belt loop. He turned and saw Dev trying to force out a faint smile.

  “I have to agree with your suspicions about him being a covert operative,” said Dev in a low whisper.

  “It takes one to spot one, eh.”

  A few minutes later Von handed the phone to Mitch. “What did Langley say?”

  Von smirked then put his hands on his hips. “They agreed that Jakarta is a good bet. They’ll have some support there shortly after we arrive.” Von was about to sit down but instead extended his hand. “Thanks for coming along when you did. I owe you one.”

  Mitch responded with a hearty handshake. “I wish you and Interpol a world of luck,” he said with a frown as he leaned forward to check on Bob. S
chueller was groaning as his eyes fluttered open. He creaked out a welcome grin at Mitch then reached out his hand and patted his friend on the arm. “Let me guess, my wife sent you. She worries too much.”

  “Somebody has to.” The two men chuckled.

  “What was Redstrom brewing up back there?” said Von.

  Schueller looked at the man with raised eyebrows, then at Mitch. “Don’t worry, he’s with the government,” said Mitch with a wink.

  “He had me working on the final strand of a deadly viral load that he had acquired from the Chinese somehow. He needed me to weaponize it.”

  The men all shot nervous glances at each other. “And did you?” said Von.

  “Yes and no.” Schueller cleared his throat and sat erect. “I completed the viral strain. It is definitely weaponized but the current form will remain dormant in the carrier for forty-eight hours, not six hours as he was led to believe.”

  Dev moved closer. “So, anyone exposed to it won’t become contagious until long after they’ve disembarked from their flight, assuming he’s going to the airport still.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I bought us some time to stop the spread if people actually become exposed but we need to prevent it from becoming airborne in the first place. He also injected himself with the same strain so he could become a carrier though all he got was a modified chickenpox virus that I made up from his samples.”

  “Is there an antidote for the lethal pathogen?” said Petra.

  “Not here. Back at the CDC in Atlanta, maybe. I don’t know, this is a little-known virus that our Asian counterparts developed, though Redstrom may have one that he obtained with the original sample he had.”

  “For Redstrom, I’ve got the cure right here,” Mitch said, patting his AK.

  ***

  While the others were attending to their injured friends, Von huddled close to the door and stared out the window. The call he made had been to the CIA’s Pacific Command in Singapore. Upon entering his agent code and the password, he was immediately routed to CIA Headquarters in Langley. The voice of Natalie Quint came on, informing him of Crenna’s disappearance and asking for an update on his location. He’d only seen Quint a few times on weekly Skype briefings during inter-agency meetings. Von recalled their phone conversation, her words still bouncing around the foggy chambers of his mind.

  “It has been recently divulged that Crenna has been involved in treasonous acts that could compromise the agency. Are you in touch with him still?”

  “No, but I believe he is headed to Jakarta to kill Redstrom.”

  “Bringing both of them back for questioning…it could be very ugly for everyone involved. Will you be able to do what is necessary to stop them?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “I’ve studied your files. You’re known for your exceptional ability to improvise to get the job done, regardless of the cost. Am I right?”

  Von took a deep breath, trying not to let his exhalation filter into the speaker. “What are your orders?”

  “I’m not giving any. Did it sound like I was? You’re an experienced operator and highly trained to determine the best course of action when our country, our government is facing a severe threat. I trust you will make the right decision.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And Von?” She paused for a long moment. “Never underestimate an older agent in a profession where most die young.”

  The phone went silent and he powered it off. He felt the agency’s hands reaching around his throat. His entire being revolted at what he had become under Crenna’s tutelage and now what Quint was requesting of him. He tried to think back on the person he had been before the agency but the memory eluded his grasp like sand in the wind. Now he was going to be Quint’s bitch until she saw a need to discard him and cover her own tracks. With his background in anti-smuggling, he knew how to get out of a country and then disappear and the thought crossed his mind briefly. But he knew he’d spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulders. Beyond the imperative need to stop Redstrom from spreading the virus, Von knew he would have to tread carefully with anything he did from here on out. He ran his finger over his pocket, feeling for the flash drive that he had extracted from Redstrom’s computer then sucked in a deep breath, moving back towards the weathered ex-soldier who had rescued him.

  Chapter 37

  Soekarno-Hatta International Airport was located on the northwest edge of Jakarta near the Java Sea. It was the largest airport in Indonesia and considered a mega hub in Asia, ranking as one of the eight busiest airports in the world. It ran over capacity during most weeks and typically had around seventeen thousand travelers a day. Kyle ran through all these statistics again as he rubbed the injection site on his arm and fixed his eyes on the approaching tarmac near the outer edge of the airport. He tapped his pilot, Carlos, on the shoulder, pointing to an abandoned parts warehouse. Next to the building was one of Kyle’s men standing next to a green Hyundai. He looked to be around nineteen and had an anemic goatee.

  He glanced back at the eight men in the cabin, each of them staring pensively at the main terminal in the distance. Resting in their laps were identical blue backpacks that contained a single canister of the aerosolized pathogen. Each canister was set with the same timer and dispersal system, calibrated to release the virus in exactly two hours. This would allow his men enough time to place the devices in separate terminals throughout the airport and permit them time to escape the region. He assured them that they would be paid their remaining funds after the attack, when their service was complete. Kyle shook his head as he turned around. I remember the days when you could get assets to subscribe to a cause through the use of religious ideology or political unrest. Now, everyone wants something in a Cayman Island account.

  When the Huey set down, he disembarked and motioned his men to follow him over to his car.

  “There is a vacant tour bus waiting for you two hundred meters to the west of here,” he said, pointing over his shoulder to a distant row of buildings. “Carlos will drive you all to the main terminal where you will then separate and go to your respective locations outside of the boarding area. From there, place the canisters in the air ducts within the restrooms and then you’re done.”

  He put his hands on his hips and circled around the men as if looking at prize stallions. “You men are the best of the best and have served me well. You shall be well compensated once you’ve completed your tasks. My hat goes off to you for your service.”

  Kyle moved towards the front of them again and raised his hands. “Now go and congratulate yourselves on being a part of the new world that is about to be ushered in.”

  The eight mercenaries walked in a cluster behind Carlos, who led them between the buildings towards the tour bus. Kyle motioned to the young man who had driven his car to get inside and head to downtown Jakarta. In the back seat, Kyle opened a metallic suitcase and removed a police officer’s uniform—the standard blue shirt and black pleated pants used by patrolmen in the city. He pulled of his sticky cotton t-shirt while the driver’s eyes up front widened in the rearview mirror at the sight of so much scar tissue covering his employer’s upper extremities.

  Nearing the edge of the first cluster of hangars, Kyle finished buttoning up his new shirt, his fingertips fumbling the last button as his face tensed at the sight across from them. He whispered in Malay for the driver to stop while he studied the almost surreal figure of Darren Crenna entering a warehouse. Kyle held his breath like a sniper before a long-range shot, his heart nearly punching through his chest as he confirmed to his doubting vision that his old mentor was in his crosshairs. He looked down at his watch. “Four hours left.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” said the driver.

  “Nothing—just talking to myself about an appointment with destiny that I had only now it seems I’m going to have a pleasantly full schedule.”

  Chapter 38

  Marco flew around the periphery of the Jakarta Airport looking for an inco
nspicuous place to land where they wouldn’t be immediately greeted by airport security for setting down an unregistered helo. Spying a small hangar near the southwest corner, a mile from the main terminal, he circled and set the Huey down beside a large Quonset hut. As the rotors wound down, Von and Mitch hopped out onto the tarmac, their noses assaulted by the smell of hot asphalt. A slender man with gray chin whiskers stepped out from the shade of a service bay and walked over. Wiping a greasy hand on his stained coveralls, he looked at them with curiosity while studying the antiquated helicopter.

  “This area isn’t for helo service. You’ll have to move that bird.”

  Von trotted up to him. “I’m with Interpol. We’ve got an emergency and need to leave it here.”

  The man looked at Dev, who was being escorted off by David and Petra. He glanced at her bloodied side and then yelled to one of his men inside the hangar to bring the jeep over.

  The mechanic raced over to the helo in an olive-drab jeep with a cracked windshield. They helped get Dev inside then drove the group into the shade of the hangar.

  “Just saw another bird like this one set down a little ways off from here. What’s going on?” said the older man, pointing to a distant set of hangars to his right.

  After lowering Dev onto the cool cement of the bay, Petra retrieved some water and clean rags.

  Von pulled Mitch aside from the crowd and walked over to the entrance. “I’m gonna trot over to where the other Huey was supposed to have landed and see if there’s any sign of Redstrom.”

  “If I can help, you know where to find me.”

  Von nodded and ran off across the airfield, keeping close to the supply crates next to some small planes and then disappearing between the distant buildings.

  As Mitch turned to walk back inside, he caught a glimpse of eight men boarding a dilapidated school bus to his left, a hundred yards away from the hangar. Each man was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and all were carrying identical blue backpacks that resembled the type he had seen back at the jungle lab. He watched the door close and the struggling vehicle sputter off towards the main airport terminal a mile away.