Cornerstone (Phantom Squad Series Book 1)

by J. M. LeDuc

  Tag shivered as the cold air of the high altitude permeated the inside of the fuselage. His heart rate idled like a tachometer on a hot rod.

  The plane’s radio cracked to life and the pilot gave the deployment order. “Three, two, one, go, go, go!”

  Instinct kicked in. Brent ran for the back of the cargo plane and launched himself into the blackened sky. Tag was right on his heels. Tag hovered above him during the freefall as if they were attached. Seconds passed before Brent saw his altimeter drop below eight-hundred-feet. He and Tag pulled their ripcords in complete synchronization. Their chutes deployed at exactly the same time. The trip was quick, as all high altitude, low opening jumps tended to be. Terra firma struck quick.

  They quickly gathered up the silk material of their chutes.

  “We don’t have much time,” Brent said, “and the pilot meeting us is expecting one passenger. I’ll radio ahead and let him know of the change of plans. The pilot knows to bug out five minutes after the expected meeting time. Let’s move.”

  Brent led and picked up his speed to a six-minute mile pace. Twenty-four minutes later, they had skirted security and clipped their way through a barb wired fence. They stood at the edge of a battered, rut filled, old runway at the edge of the military base.

  Tag looked around, but saw nothing but a Lear jet. “I don’t see anything even close to military issue.” Shadowing Brent’s moves, he almost stepped in a pothole. “Please tell me this isn’t the airstrip.”

  Brent pointed to the jet as they walked toward it. “As a sniper, you’ve been taught to see what can’t be seen. You’re target may be disguised, but you still know it’s your target.”

  Tag understood. “You always talk in riddles?”

  Brent laughed under his breath. “It seems to come naturally. It makes you think and keeps you on your toes.” Tag heard Brent’s phone vibrate. He watched as Brent retrieved it and read the message on the LCD screen. Before Brent could put the phone back in his pocket, Tag saw the inside lights of the jet flash on, off, and back on. They were dim and looked like emergency lights.

  Tag watched as the door opened and stairs were lowered. One person, dressed entirely in black, deplaned. Even his face was entirely blacked out in a form fitting Lycra mask. Brent and the pilot hugged and communicated using hand gestures.

  The pilot grabbed their bags and headed back up the stairs.

  “We don’t have much time,” Brent said, as they climbed into the Lear. “The military saw the jet enter their air space on radar. The pilot has been able to scramble the signals and keep them from spotting his exact position, but it’s only a matter of time before they unscramble the signal. We need to be quick.”

  Taking their seats and strapping in, Brent handed Tag a helmet, complete with communication gear. Tag was perplexed. “Won’t they see us take off?”

  “They can’t find what they can’t see,” Brent answered.

  Tag thought for a moment and then snapped his head toward the colonel. “You mean we’re taking off without lights! That’s suicide.”

  “Would be with anyone else but Q.”

  “Q?”

  “Our host and the best pilot I have ever known.” He saw Tag start to fidget. “Relax, Lieutenant. This isn’t our first rodeo. We’ve done this before.”

  Tag shook his head and stared straight ahead. “I stand by my earlier observation. You are certifiably insane.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  The jet moved forward. The motion ended the conversation.

  A voice came through their helmets. “Strap up, boys. Please replace all tray tables to their upright positions. This will be a fast, steep climb. Once I clear all structures, I’m going to roll this baby on her back and reverse directions. If spotted, they’ll expect us to head out over open water. I’m headed due north over Alabama and Georgia. We won’t see water until we clear South Carolina. As soon as I flip her back onto her belly, we’ll hit mach one, one second later.”

  “What the hell have I—” Tag’s words were cut short as he was glued to the back of his seat by the incredible thrust of the jet as it shot down the runway and launched upward. It seemed like an impossible angle and he waited for the fuselage to start to break up and crash land. Before he knew it, his world turned upside down and all his blood rushed to his head.

  Q aimed the jet directly north. By the time it rolled back on its belly, Tag was dizzy and a bit nauseous. As he began to relax, the pilot punched the speed and the lieutenant heard the sonic boom as the small jet tore through mach one. They flew in total darkness until they were well over the Atlantic.

  Tag white-knuckled his arm rest in a death grip.

  “Loosen up, Lieutenant,” Brent said. “We may need those hands later on. I’d feel much better knowing that you still have neurological control and dexterity in your trigger finger.”

  Tag hadn’t even noticed that he was still clutching the armrests with all his strength. He slowly relaxed his grip and rubbed his hands together to aid his circulation.

  The earpiece in his helmet crackled. “The no smoking sign has been turned off and you are free to move about the cabin.”

  Hearing Q’s remarks, Brent unstrapped his harness. “Come on and I’ll introduce you to the best damn pilot you’ll ever have the pleasure of knowing.”

  Tag unbuckled and followed the colonel into the cockpit.

  CHAPTER 24

  Over the next hour, Q explained the Lear jet to Tag. Brent saw that the young officer was transfixed by what he heard.

  “Do you mean to tell me that this jet is actually a B1-B bomber?” Tag’s eyes glazed over in confusion. “How is that possible?”

  Q looked over at Brent to see how much he could divulge. The colonel let him know he could divulge all about the jet.

  “The skin of this bird is all Lear. It was designed by Colonel Venturi and the techies at the Geo-astronomical think tank. All the bells and whistles, including wet bar are pure luxury airliner, but the guts are pure bomber.” Q reached above and pushed a red button. The ‘dash’ of the jet switched from luxury jet to military wonder. “I’ve been flying for thirty years and in all that time, I have never flown a better designed aircraft. There is no situation it’s not equipped for. It is stronger, faster, and more maneuverable than the actual B1.” Q’s face lit up as he spoke. “The beauty is that even under the best radar the world has to offer, none of its true guts are detectable. X-ray and scanner can’t even pick up what’s hiding behind the outer shell.”

  Tag just stood, mouth agape. “Has she ever seen any action?”

  “That’s enough for now,” Brent said. “What’s our ETA for Munich?”

  “Five more hours, sir.”

  Brent checked his watch. “Perfect.”

  Tag eyed Brent as he appeared to be in deep thought.

  “Have you been in recent contact with the Knights in Germany?” Brent asked.

  “Just before you came aboard. Everything is a go. We’ll land at a private runway owned by one of the outer circle. They know members of the inner circle will be staying the night, but have no idea the Ambassador is on the flight. They’re honored to have been called upon.”

  Brent hesitated for a moment. “How about back home? Any word?”

  Q nodded. “Joan said the Madame Director and the team are making every effort to track you down, but they’re not having any luck.”

  Brent smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  “She also said that Alana is fitting in well with everyone.”

  “Alana? What the hell are you talking about?”

  Q’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “You didn’t see her back in the Cove?”

  “No! I had no idea she was coming. Care to fill me in.”

  “All I know is I received a message from Joan. I figured it came from you, but apparently I was wron
g. I picked Alana up in Jerusalem and brought her to Palm Cove. The bishop met us at the airstrip.”

  “The bishop.” Brent shook his head. “I should have known.”

  “I know it’s not my place to say, so if you rather I say nothing, just cut me off.”

  “We’ve been through too much for me to tell you what you can or can’t say. Speak your mind.”

  “Begging your pardon, Colonel, but we were all worried about your condition after Chloe’s death. No one more than Bishop Jessop. He felt Alana’s presence might somehow help. I tend to agree with him. I know you two shared a connection, a professional one, but still a special one. If you were to open up to anyone, it might have been her. It was worth a shot.”

  “Hmm,” Brent mumbled. “You know what they say about opinions, Q.”

  The pilot laughed. “Yes, sir, I do, and now you have mine.”

  The colonel remained quiet for a few minutes. “Did you happen to hear what her plans were?”

  “No, but I assume she’ll be headed back to Israel. Dust doesn’t gather around that one.”

  Again, Brent was quiet. “Well,” he finally said, “everything happens for a reason. It’s better this way.”

  “Beg your pardons, but I have no idea what the two of you are talking about,” Tag said.

  “I could use a drink,” Brent said, “Tag, come with me and I’ll fill in the blanks.”

  “I’d appreciate that. There seem to be quite a few.” Tag followed Brent to the back of the aircraft.

  “Pick your poison, Lieutenant. It will probably be your last for a while. Something tells me, they won’t have liquor where we’re headed.”

  “Jack on the rocks, sounds good.”

  “I don’t normally drink,” Brent said. “In fact, I haven’t had a drop since I was inducted into the Phantom Squad,” he took two glasses out from under the bar and poured two Jack Daniels, “but this seems like an appropriate time for one.”

  Tag downed half his glass. “The Phantom Squad? I guess that’s the real name of what the terrorists call the Black Militia?”

  Brent threw back his drink and nodded. “The number one rule between squad members is that there are no secrets.” He gestured toward Tag. “It works both ways.”

  Tag nodded and raised his glass. “Fair enough.”

  “I’ll go first,” Brent said. “I’m sure you have a thousand questions. You deserve at least a few answers. What’s your first question?”

  “Tell me about the squad.”

  “We are a squad of five: some military, some not. We are called upon when all official means to an end aren’t successful.”

  “So, everything I’ve heard is true?”

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard. You know how things get exaggerated.”

  Tag reiterated a couple of the stories he had heard about the squad’s exploits and waited for a response.

  “That’s a first,” Brent said. “The stories you’ve rehashed are actually milder than the truth. So, yeah, it’s all true.”

  Tag almost choked on his drink when he heard the colonel’s words. Gaining confidence, he asked his next question. “What’s all this talk about Knights, Ambassadors and circles?”

  “You stay on mission. I like that.” Brent tipped his glass toward Tag. “Although, I’m sure you’ll get to what’s really on your mind soon enough.” Brent took another sip, trying to figure out where to start. “I wear many hats. I wear the hat of an Army officer, though I’m not exactly in the military anymore. I also wear the hat of a covert government agent for the most clandestine agency in the world.”

  “CIA?”

  Brent shook his head and pulled his hair back away from his face. “Not quite. This agency makes the CIA and the NSA pale in comparison. I am . . . was second in command of the SIA, the Strategic Intelligence Alliance.”

  Tag covered his mouth, trying not to spit out his drink. “We had heard of such an organization, but everyone thought it was made up.”

  Tag watched as Brent looked down and let his hair fall over his face. When he looked up, his expression was acute and sharp. “Everything I am about to tell you is far beyond top secret. Is that understood?”

  Tag’s posture stiffened, as if at attention. “Understood.”

  Over the next hour, Brent told his protégée a story that had the young officer asking for a refill on his drink. Tag opened his mouth to ask questions, but thought better of it and just stood at the bar and listened.

  Tag looked like a child on Christmas morning.

  “There are no questions out of bounds,” Brent said, “what’s on your mind?”

  Tag swigged the rest of his drink. “I don’t even know where to start. Let me see if I have this straight. You are the leader of the Phantom Squad, a squad of five soldiers, who aren’t all soldiers, who don’t exist, right?”

  “Don’t misinterpret soldiers for military personnel. Every person involved in the squad is a soldier; the best you’ll ever meet. The training they have undergone is more intense than anything the U.S. military could ever dream up. They not only underwent psychological and physical training but they were also trained to be assassins. Each is proficient in side arms as well as a compound bow, knives, oriental weapons, and hand-to-hand combat. They can strike without being heard or seen. As members of the Phantom Squad, our identities have been erased.”

  Tag put his hand up. “What do you mean exactly when you say erased?”

  Brent smirked. “I mean that the man you are having this conversation with doesn’t officially exist. No one outside of the squad, my immediate family and the directorate of the SIA knows I was ever born. I have no social security number, and you will not find any record of me: military, governmental or civilian. If I was ever fingerprinted, I would not show up in any database in the world.” Brent’s stare was so intense, it caused Tag to briefly look away. “That’s why we had to visit Wheels. All my aliases can be tracked by the squad. Since I’m rouge for this mission, I needed a new identity, many, depending where I plan on going and what I need to accomplish.”

  “And what is that exactly?”

  Brent checked his watch, “We can discuss that later. I need to go up and talk to Q for a moment.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Brent returned after a few minutes. Taking his position at the bar, he asked Tag if he had any other questions.

  “You still haven’t told me about the knights.” Tag spread his arms out wide. “Who are they and what do they have to do with anything of this?’

  Brent dropped a couple cubes of ice in his drink and twirled them around with his finger, and looked at Tag with a dead-eyed stare. “They have pledged their allegiance to the Ambassador and are sworn to protect him and what he knows.”

  Tag had seen that look before. It was the same look he had seen on his friend after his life had been snuffed out by the enemy’s bullet. He went to take another sip of his drink and realized it was empty. He swallowed hard. “Q had said that the Ambassador was on this flight. I take it you and he are one in the same?”

  Brent nodded.

  “What information do you have that would make these people put their lives on the line for you?”

  “Before I say anything more, I need you to come clean. What was the real reason you left the service?”

  Tag slid his glass forward. Brent opened a bottle of soda and poured him a drink. “It’s not what you wanted, but it’s all you get this close to Munich.”

  “What makes you think there’s more to my leaving the service than just wanting to get on with my life?”

  Brent gave a little shake of his head. “The military is your life. I can see it in every move you make and every word you speak.” Brent pushed the issue. “Remember when I said there were no topics off limits.”

  Tag nodded.

  “Well, that’s a two w
ay street. Why did you leave? If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s your choice. I’ll just inform Q to drop you off anywhere you’d like and we’ll part ways when we land. I can’t, won’t let you accompany me holding on to emotional baggage—potentially harmful baggage.”

  Tag fidgeted. His finger traced the condensation on the bar as it dripped from his glass. Did he really want to hitch his star to this crazy person? He looked around the interior of the jet and thought back to everything that had happened since they’d met. If he could trust anyone, he figured it was Brent.

  “My last mission was in the mountains between Afghanistan and Pakistan. My spotter—a kid who I handpicked—had been with me for my last two tours.” Tag held up his hand and crossed his fingers. “We were as thick as brothers. I would do anything for him and him for me.

  “We had received Army intelligence that told us that there was a terrorist cell deep in the mountains on the Pakistani side. Off limits to the U.S. military.”

  “Al Qaida?”

  “No, some new group. Well, not new, just new to us. Intel had been intercepting coded messages from all over the Mid-East and Europe. They were bounced off so many satellites that we weren’t able to triangulate their position.” Tag began to sweat and his hands started to tremble. “Man, they were so organized and so entrenched in every part of the world. They really had us dancing. Months were spent trying to track these guys, but no matter what we did and no matter what encryption busting methods we tried, we couldn’t find jack.

  “We had pretty much given up on them when an Afghani stumbled into Alpha camp. He was more dead than alive, delirious from fever and dysentery and high on poppy. I don’t think he even knew it was a U.S. camp. He wasn’t carrying any weapons and he was dressed in traditional Palestinian clothing; an ankle length robe, a throbe and a kaffiyeh, a black and white turban. The docs tried to help him, but he kept getting worse. When he slept, he talked.

  “I don’t sleep much and I was bored from being stuck in camp, so I asked to be put on night guard rotation. One night, out of the blue, he starts talking about his ‘brothers’ and how proud he was to be part of the Brotherhood.”