Railroad leaned over and whispered, "Naked statues, not women, you numbskull."
Toad shrugged nonchalantly. "Po-tay-to, po-tah-to."
Bruiser growled, "Put it back in your pants and pay attention."
When the laughs died down, Dixon continued. However, there was a slight smile on his face. "The intel netted us a surprise. We have a viable location for Fedora, and we're going to take him out before he can put his plans for Barcelona into action."
Once again the room erupted in voices. When it settled, he continued.
"Alpha team will take the lead on this one. Bravo is in reserve. The DOD has green-lighted this op with the full support of the State Department. Here is the information we have." The screen on the wall lit up with a map containing several marks on it. "It's time to put together a plan and stop this maniac once and for all. Wheels up in sixteen hours and I want to have at least three scenarios ready by then."
Chapter 10
The small house they had commandeered sat low in a row of similar ones. The neighborhood was in a state of decay, but it guaranteed their privacy. None of the cell would dare to show their faces either way, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
9 days
"That last one was too easy, Hick. You're going to have to work a little harder to stump me. A cave, whisper, and snake were pretty obviously Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. You know I'm an HP fanatic."
The deep, rich chuckle vibrated through Annabeth as she curled up on her sofa, smartphone in hand. "I thought I had you on that one, Georgia."
She shook her head and grinned at the screen. Next to being in person, Skype was an acceptable second. "I'm going to come up with a really good one. We've been at a stalemate now for two months."
"What was the bet this time?"
She chewed her lip as if she couldn't remember. "Wasn't it a month of movie tickets? No that was last time. Breakfast in bed for a week? I think that's it. I can't remember for sure. Let's see - the first round was pizza."
"Which you won," Hick agreed.
"Second was a Chocolate of the Month membership," she continued.
"Which you also won."
"Yes, but you got the third one. Did you ever go get your mani-pedi?"
He frowned. "I think you lost that one on purpose."
"Who, me?" She feigned indignation. "Never. You take that back, Levi Salter. I'd never lower myself to throwing a wager when my honor is on the line not to mention my memory of completely useless information."
He snorted, causing the screen to jiggle slightly. "Not all of that information is useless. If I'm ever on one of those television game shows, you are my lifeline. "
She laughed and leaned back against her pillow, propping her telephone on her chest. "Well, you did pick a pretty old movie. You can't expect me to know everything."
"Georgia, don't kid a kidder. I know you and your father used to watch old movies and John Wayne was his favorite actor. I mean, come on. An oil can, fire, devil, and fist? Even Elliot could figure that one was Hellfighters."
"I guess you just caught me on a bad day," she sighed dramatically but knew he wasn't buying it. The truth was, she wanted him to win that round. The sight of her big strong SEAL with his feet getting scrubbed by nail technicians was something she would gladly pay good money. "You never answered my question. Did you go to the salon? I even made it easy and picked one near your apartment."
He grumbled under his breath. "No, I haven't been yet, and I don't know if I ever will. Do you realize that's where a lot of wives for some of the other teams go? I'd never live it down if I'm caught with my feet soaking in fru-fru juice."
"I didn't think about that." Annabeth's brow wrinkled. "I'd never want to cause you embarrassment. I just wanted to do something nice for you. I'll tell you what, next time you come out here I'll treat you to my favorite place. Nobody will know you there. I swear you will love it. There is nothing like having your feet pampered to make every bone in your body go liquid."
Hick frowned. "I don't know if it would be a good idea to subject anyone to touch my feet. All these years in combat boots have done a number on them. "
"Shhh. Just take it."
He chuckled at her. She watched him reach a finger out and stroke the screen. She could imagine his touch as he glided down her face. "God I miss you, Georgia."
"I miss you too." Her eyes closed as she thought of him, his hands, his lips and his... well, everything. Saying she missed him was a gross understatement. Since they had declared their true feelings for each other, it was like a floodgate had opened. The thought of being thousands of miles apart physically made her ache. "When do you leave?" she whispered as she opened her eyes.
Hick glanced up at the wall then back to the screen. "Soon."
She could see the worry etching into the lines on his face. She understood that his missions were hard and extremely dangerous, but there was something about this one. In the past, whenever he had left, it was as if he hadn't a care in the world. This time was different. There was tightness around his eyes that made him scowl. She longed to reach through the phone and gently smooth the frown that dented his brow. Even his chin was set in hard lines, and the dimples she so loved were missing. He was worried, much more than she had ever seen him before. But what could make her normally happy-go-lucky man take on such seriousness? In a flash, she knew. She didn't ask because he wouldn't confirm or deny her query. It was part of being in the SEALs - the constant unknowing. Confirmation or not, she knew what he couldn't tell her.
They were going after al-Bashir.
Carefully she locked away the overwhelming panic that threatened to choke her in its icy grip. The last thing he needed was to worry about her fear. Instead, she brought the screen closer and peered into it. "You will be careful, okay?"
The smile didn't reach his eyes. Instead, they seemed almost haunted. "Always." He tried to sound chipper, but to Annabeth, it was hollow.
"I need to leave. Go ahead and send me the next puzzle. I'll work on it when I can."
"Alright." Her answer was low and breathy. "I'll come up with a good one for you."
"I know you will." He inhaled deeply. "Georgia..."
"Stop," her voice grew hard. She knew without a single doubt; she did not want to hear him give her an 'if I don't make it' speech. Being so far away when he was safe was bad enough; she couldn't let doubt come into play. Not now, not when everything was finally going right. Painting a smile on her face, she took a teasing tone to lighten the mood. "You're coming back to me. We danced around each other for a year, and now that we're honest with each other, I'm not going to let you off the hook, bucko. I have plans for you and your crusty feet."
His laughter was loud over the speaker. "My heart and my feet are all yours, honey. I'll call you as soon as I get home. Stay beautiful."
"Stay badass," she answered. "I love you."
"Love you too, my sweet Georgia. I'll talk to you soon."
He touched the screen lightly with one finger then he was gone; the screen instantly blank. Annabeth dropped her cell to the sofa cushion and closed her eyes. Releasing the fear that she could now allow to run through her psyche, her heart thudded, pumping blood through her body. Her hands shook, and her chest tightened until she was afraid she couldn't take another breath. Hick and his team were going after inarguably the most terrifying man currently walking on the Earth, the man responsible for thousands of deaths including innocent men, women, and children. He killed in the name of radical fascisms. Death rode at his heels, nipping like a starved hound for food. Hatred, violence, and injustice were his companions. The thought of the man who held her world in his hands anywhere near that monster made her stomach pitch and roil. Biting back the bile as panic swam over her, her mind raced to find a way out of the hole she felt herself slipping. Her hand shook as she picked up the phone and called the only person who could give her some hope and a tiny bit of perspective.
"Jos? Hey, it's Annabeth. Is
River there?"
Chapter 11
The man glared at the drunken idiot passed out on the porch. The men were not allowed any mind altering substance and that included alcohol. Pulling his pistol from his waistband, he pressed the silencer fitted barrel to the man's head and pulled the trigger. He wasn't happy about this. Amir should have a tighter fist on his men.
Now they would need another driver.
8 days
Bravo stood in the cramped room, elbow to elbow along with the twelve members of the support team. Eyes were glued to the computer screens showing movement on the ground as glowing red and green shapes thanks to the three drones carrying thermal imaging cameras flying silently over the compound nestled in the hills of upper Iraq.
"Two minutes until breach," one of the men manning the console murmured.
Hick pressed in closer, leaning on the table strewn with maps, half-empty cups of horrible coffee and other instruments used to plan this attack. Rarely had he been on this side of an Op, watching as another team took out a target. He thought there would be more noise. Instead, the only sound in the room was the click of the keyboards and the soft hum of the two Black Hawks standing at ready on the pad outside.
Drakker, the man in charge of the team, lifted his fist, causing the others to stop instantly. He made a motion, and two of the team broke off from the others. He knew those were the snipers who would provide cover when needed.
"That'll be Diablo and Tig going to nest," Railroad whispered in confirmation.
"It's too quiet," Dude muttered. "Where are the tangos?"
"Four sentries on the corners," Railroad answered. "If Fedora is there, then there should be a lot more than that."
A general mumble rolled through the room as others agreed.
The team executed their roles as a well-oiled machine. Hick lifted his gaze to another computer screen with boxes containing the live feed from the tiny cameras mounted on each SEALs shoulder. The view was vivid green courtesy of the NVG units. He followed the action as Druid shadowed Drakker to the entry point designated in the plans.
On another screen, Lincoln pressed himself against a wall as Mastiff slid around and slapped a line of explosives to the door leading into the compound. Quietly they withdrew.
"Eyes on tango," whispered Diablo.
"Eyes on tango," replied Tig.
Hick's gaze returned to the larger picture provided by the satellite orbiting overhead. The picture was grainy thanks to the low light source, but it showed the four sentries on the compound's corner continued to pace slowly; their bodies were a bright white against the gray of their surroundings. He shook his head. Something was wrong; he felt it all the way down to his bones.
"What are we missing?" Wolf's brow wrinkled as he studied the scene. Beside him, Bruiser glared as well. Their unease was contagious, spreading to the rest of the combined team.
"Alpha, you are at a go," the mission coordinator spoke into his coms.
The breath in Hick's lungs froze. There was a flash of an explosion as the wall was breached. Overhead, the four sentries dropped two at a time as the snipers took them out. On the ground, the ten remaining members of Alpha poured through the hole and into the compound.
The view from the mini cams jostled as the SEALs made their way down a hallway and deeper into the building. At the end of the hall, a room opened up with several doors leading out. With a few quick signals, the team spread out into three teams with each taking a different exit.
Hick's eyes flew over the screen, watching the teams as they worked their way deeper into the structure.
"Clear."
"Clear."
"Clear."
"Nothing?" Cookie pressed his knuckles into the table as he leaned over it. "This makes no sense. Where is everyone?"
"Maybe they got spooked," Finch muttered.
"Alpha, we're sending in Fritz. Regroup in the main chamber."
"Roger, command."
Fritz, an eighty pound German Shepherd, walked alongside his handler, Diesel through the breach and down the hallway. Like the rest of the team, he had a micro camera as well, securely mounted on the side of his collar.
Diesel removed the leash from Fritz's collar and gave him the command to hunt. At once, Alpha pressed themselves back to the walls to give the dog room to work.
The view was dizzying as the dog ran down one corridor, taking time to smell along the way. With a sneeze, he whirled around and returned to the main room. When he reached the end of the second tunnel, he stopped, sat and stared at the wall.
"Command, we have a positive for a hidden room at the end of two."
Diesel hurried to the end of the tunnel, clasped the leash back on the dog and led him out. As before, Mastiff slapped a line of explosives to the wall and retreated. From his camera, Bravo witnessed the wall explode into a pile of rubble.
"Why have three hallways that dead end with only one room?"
"Maybe they are trying to throw us off?"
Toad shook his head. "I don't like this. Every hair on my neck is sticking straight out."
Two SEALs entered the room carefully.
"Clear."
Their search was interrupted by a yell. "TANGO TANGO TANGO," Tig's voice filled the com channel.
"INCOMING," Diablo's voice echoed.
The shout from the two snipers was loud in the room. Hick whipped his head back around to the satellite and widened his eyes in shock. All around the compound, unfriendlies materialized out of nowhere like ghosts.
"Sons of bitches dug in with thermo-covers so we couldn't see them," hissed the console operator.
"It's a trap!" Bruiser slammed his fist on the table. "Bastards laid a trap."
"Alpha, you have over twenty tangos coming in hard."
"Diablo's down." They could hear the staccato of gunfire with each gasped yell.
"Damn!" Abe growled.
"We're surrounded! They're coming out of the walls!" Drakker shouted. "There are tunnels everywhere!"
"Bravo!" the mission commander roared. "You're up!"
F-bombs filled the room as Bravo scrambled for their gear. The mission had turned into a Charlie Foxtrot of epic proportions. As Hick ran to the Black Hawk and jumped in, he hoped they would get there in time to save their friends. They were only six minutes by air from the compound, but at the rate, things had soured during the mission, that may be six minutes Alpha didn't have.
Annabeth's reading glasses made a soft thump as they landed on top of the thick piles of papers scattered across the oak desktop. Peering across the expanse, she glared at the smug grin on her client's face.
"Andrew, be reasonable. This contract for The Obsession of Veed is extremely generous. This will be your first movie. They are offering $5,000 option for two years. Most options begin at around $1,000. Remember, it just means they are renting your rights for two years."
"That's two years with no assurance that a movie will be made. And, while they are holding my creativity in their deathly grip, no-one else can pick it up. I don't want 'maybe.' I expect you to do better than a low budget television series. You certainly did much better for Joselyn Chambers."
Annabeth pressed her fingers tightly to the bridge of her nose and silently counted to ten. They had been beating the hell out of this dead horse for hours now. The throbbing pulse behind her eyes intensified every second this arrogant peacock sat in her office. Getting herself under control, she plastered a stiff smile on her lips and tried again.
"As I have mentioned numerous times, Joselyn Chambers's situation is highly unusual. It's not often a first-timer is picked up by a major studio with an option they green light. You also have to remember that your work is in horror where hers is suspense and drama. They are two completely different genres. It's all in what the studios are looking for at any given moment. Look at it this way, every day thousands of books are published. The fact that your book, among all those millions, was chosen for an option is amazing. Many authors would kill to be in
your shoes."
Andrew lurched forward and slammed his fist on the desk, missing her glasses by inches. "I am not like those hacks," he snarled in a low voice. "They throw a few words into a file, call it literature and press the self-publish button. To call what they do art is to call a child's crayon work a masterpiece. It's beneath me. I hired you to do a job. You are failing. If you are incapable of fulfilling your part of our agreement, I'll have my lawyer speak to you concerning a breach of contract suit. Perhaps then, you will stop fawning over Joselyn Chambers and represent me as you promised."
"And as I told you if you feel so strongly about my inability to represent you adequately, then exercise your option and find someone who is more suited to your specific requirements." The grin he flashed made her shudder with revulsion. How had she ever thought of him as interesting?
"No, you will get me a better contract, or I'll sue you." As he finished, he spun on his heel and stormed out of her little office, slamming the door behind.
"Lord, save me from fools and pompous, second-rate divas," she mumbled. Crossing her arms over the contract, she laid her head down and closed her eyes. "I know they all can't be like Jos, but could I maybe get a few that are at least somewhat reasonable? This crap is for the birds."
The theme of Murder She Wrote rose from her cell beside. Lifting her head, Annabeth punched the button. "Hey, Jos, I was just thinking about you."
Joselyn's voice was high and breathy. "Annabeth, honey, are you alright?"
Annabeth frowned. "Ye-e-e-s," she drawled slowly. "Shouldn't I be?"
"Oh, God, you haven't seen the news yet, have you?"
A two-ton ball of ice settled into her stomach. "No, what's going on?" She opened her top drawer, searching for the tiny remote for her television sitting in the corner under a layer of dust. The last time it was used was when Elliot had spent a weekend with her several months ago. Her trembling fingers closed around the black rectangle. Drawing it out, she dropped it on the floor. Retrieving it, she felt her pulse racing in her veins.
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