Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  The tape weakened on the sides of each man’s hip where most of the tension was being created. A little more time and effort, and Mac was certain he could break free.

  As he and Walter continued what Walter preferred to call their “dance”, Mac recalled a military operation two years ago twenty miles south of the Mexican border town of Ciudad Juarez. He and nine other SEAL Team Six members were transported under cover of darkness to a Sinaloa drug cartel compound that both Mexican and U.S. authorities believed was holding no fewer than twelve local and area government officials, including a just appointed police chief who had promised the day of being sworn into office to clean up corruption in the city of 1.5 million. He disappeared 24 hours later.

  Mac’s team entered the two-story white stone compound structure with no resistance. Just inside the main entrance to the building’s great room were the bound bodies of nine people placed in a neat row on the brown tiled floor. Each body was decapitated, their hands and feet tied up with common duct tape. They had likely been dead for less than twelve hours.

  The mission leader, a twelve year SEAL veteran and first generation American by way of Durango, Mexico, pointed down at the duct tape and shook his head with a mixture of sadness and disgust.

  “All you got to do is twist that shit from side to side and it falls apart. Don’t pull it, you just got to twist it. At least then you have a fighting chance and don’t die like some hog tied up for slaughter.”

  With no lives to save, the mission was over. Mac and his fellow team members were flown out by helicopter back to the United States within the hour. Days later Mac was told by Martinez that their Mexican military counterparts were certain someone within the Ciudad Juarez Police Department had tipped off the cartel of the mission to save the hostages.

  The missing police chief was never found.

  Mac never forgot the instructions on how to escape from duct tape though, and now crammed into the cramped interior of a passenger jet bathroom, heard the words of Martinez echoing in his head once again.

  All you got to do is twist that shit from side to side and it falls apart. Don’t pull it, you just got to twist it.

  Walter’s forehead rubbed into the side of Mac’s face, leaving a rather large layer of sweat in its wake. The flight attendant had begun to perspire heavily during their “dance”.

  “No need to soak me, Walter. Keep at it, and try and twist your body as much as possible when you’re moving to the side, ok?”

  Walter smiled, appearing to have forgotten all about the fact he and the other passengers were on a hijacked plane.

  “Yes sir. You want some twisting? I’ll give you some twisting.”

  Mac could feel the tape loosening just a bit more as Walter began grunting softly from his efforts. A few minutes later, and the area around Mac’s right hip and wrist released just enough that the former Navy SEAL was able to pull his arm free.

  Walter’s eyes grew wide as his mouth opened, causing Mac a moment of panic that the other man would cry out.

  “Keep quiet. We’re a long ways from out of here.”

  Walter’s mouth snapped shut as he glanced toward the lavatory door, wondering like Mac if someone was just outside keeping watch.

  Mac began to slowly peel the layers of duct tape form their arms and legs, hoping the noise of the tape being removed was being drowned out by the sound of the 767’s turbine engines.

  It took nearly a minute to fully remove all of the tape. Mac pushed the remnants of tape into a pile inside of the sink and then backed away from Walter as much as the limited space of the bathroom would allow.

  “No offense, Walter but I’m damn happy to not be dancing with you anymore.”

  Walter merely shrugged as his eyes lit up with the humor he still managed to find from the situation.

  “None taken, Mr. Walker. I just hope it was as good for you as it was for me.”

  Mac Walker grunted as he shook his own head in response.

  “Pretty sure it wasn’t but thanks all the same.”

  Both Mac and Walter’s eyes fell to the floor as the sensation of slowly falling passed through each of their bodies.

  “We’re descending again.”

  Mac knew Walter was right, though this time the descent was of a more common variety than the earlier falling out of the sky version that had sent the passengers into a panic.

  “I need to get a look outside to see if I can tell where the hell they’re taking us.”

  While reaching for the door Mac paused, remembering something Walter had told him earlier.

  “You said you tried to fight them when you saw what was going on in the cargo hold – that they were trying to open the cargo door during the flight. Did you see anything else in there that was unusual?”

  Walter’s brow furrowed as he thought back to the encounter with the rogue members of the flight crew.

  “No, I don’t think so. Just that they had pushed a bunch of the luggage into a pile right next to the cargo door. I’m guessing so they could toss it from the plane. I asked them what they thought they were doing and that’s when they jumped me.”

  Mac’s mind began to formulate why the 767 was now descending, but not yet fully trusting Walter, kept it to himself. Instead he refocused on finding a way to get to a window so he could look outside.

  Before he could begin to push the door open, Mac Walker looked down to realize someone was already slowly opening it from the other side.

  Well ok then, here we go…

  11.

  Mac Walker stood as far to the side against the wall as the close quarter confines of the 767 lavatory would allow, while he gently pushed Walter to the other side of the tiny room. Mac’s body tensed, ready to take on whoever was opening the door. As the door swung halfway open, Mac looked to see a pair of familiar, striking blue eyes.

  Stasia’s face peered into the bathroom as she looked at both Mac and Walter before glancing behind her.

  “Hurry, follow me.”

  The whispered words were barely audible over the engine noise as Mac found himself as uncertain of Stasia as he was of Walter.

  Yeah, but she knows I’m in here, so at this point, I have no choice. Play along, watch, and wait.

  Mac followed Stasia out into the narrow 767 cabin hallway as she made her way as quietly as possible toward the very back of the plane. Walter trailed close behind Mac. The passengers remained in their seats unmoving, and Mac saw no sign of any of the other flight crew.

  Stasia disappeared behind a dark blue curtain separating the main cabin from the in flight food prep area. Mac was surprised at how large the prep room was as Walter closed the curtain behind them.

  “The others are at the front of the plane. I believe two are in the cockpit, and two others just outside the cockpit door in the First Class section.”

  Mac nodded once at Stasia as Walter opened the curtain a few inches to peek down the cabin hallway. It remained clear.

  “Still no sign of anyone else, Mac.”

  Mac looked around the food prep room and then back to Stasia, his suspicious nature still on high alert.

  “Where were you hiding? Or, maybe I should ask you how you knew to hide before anyone else did?”

  Stasia reached down with her right hand and pulled back a stainless steel sliding door revealing a small pantry area that ran along the lower left half of the room’s wall.

  “That’s where I hid after sitting next to you, Mr. Walker. Then I heard them taking someone into the bathroom, and I thought it might be you. I was watching you before take-off. You looked like someone who knew his way into or out of trouble.”

  Stasia then stood silently looking back up at Mac, as Walter’s eyes glanced from one, and then the other.

  “Are you avoiding telling me how you knew to hide in the first place?”

  Mac’s question made Stasia smile as her eyes remained locked on his.

  “No, Mr. Walker, I’m just wondering if you’re worthy of my trust.”
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  It was Mac’s turn to smile.

  “Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

  Both Mac and Stasia then turned their heads to stare at Walter, causing the flight attendant to step back, his face a mask of offended outrage. Walter pointed his finger at the two others as he hissed his response to their accusatory stares.

  “I got my ass kicked trying to stop whatever these murdering assholes are up to! We need to stick together, ok? So stop looking at me like that!”

  Mac looked upon Walter a moment longer before again directing his attention to Stasia.

  “Who you with?”

  Stasia’s eyes narrowed as she shook her head.

  “What do you mean, who am I with?”

  Mac was growing impatient. They didn’t have time to be playing spy vs. spy.

  “I mean what I mean – who are you working for? You’re obviously not just a civilian. Far too observant and calm during what is clearly a crisis situation. That means training, and that means you’re likely working for someone. I’d like to know who it is.”

  Stasia glanced toward the curtain and then lowered her eyes, seeming to engage in an internal conversation with herself over how much she should share regarding her identity.

  “Vatican Intelligence Service, Mr. Walker.”

  Mac couldn’t help but look surprised. He wasn’t aware the Vatican had special agents, though if her just spoken words were true, Stasia appeared to be just that.

  “Ok, if that’s true, then what are you doing on this plane?”

  Stasia hinted at another smile as she lightly tapped Mac’s chest.

  “You first, Mr. Walker. Who are you with, and why are you here as well? I spotted you right off you know. Like I said, I was watching you very closely, how you were looking around the cabin, noting where each passenger sat, the movement of the flight crew. You strike me as someone who’s been in more than a few situations that were likely far too physically and emotionally challenging for most. And now, here you are.”

  One of the passengers began coughing no more than ten feet from where Mac, Stasia, and Walter stood behind the curtain.

  “I’m former military – nothing special. But I will be more than happy to do whatever it takes to get these people home safe, so if you’re hoping to do that too, then I guess we’re on the same team. Oh, and this is Walter by the way. He says he’s not part of the hijacking, tried to stop them, and then was knocked out. I don’t trust him yet, but so far he’s seems ok, but he’s a shitty dancer.”

  Walter looked ready to say something and then closed his mouth and simply nodded toward Stasia, his eyes betraying an increasing nervousness.

  “Well, any suggestions on how we proceed Mac?”

  Mac noted how Stasia addressed him by his first name. Whether or not that was a sign she now trusted him, he wasn’t sure, but he liked it, while at the same time hoping he wouldn’t end up having to kill her.

  “Someone’s coming – one of the flight attendants. She introduced herself to me as Danika.”

  Walter leaned back to allow Mac to look for himself and confirm what Walter had just reported. The taller, blonde flight attendant was already halfway down the cabin hallway, her face looking strained as her eyes avoided making any contact with the silent, zip tied passengers.

  While Walter appeared near panic, both Mac and Stasia remained calm, waiting to see if the flight attendant intended to step into the food prep room. Stasia held up her right hand and put a finger to her lips while stepping to the left opposite both Mac and Walter.

  The tall blonde named Danika stopped short of the food prep room though, instead walking directly to the same bathroom Mac and Walter had just escaped from. Before deciding what they should do to prevent the flight attendant from telling the others they had escaped, Stasia decided for them, moving silently from behind the curtain partition and sending her right hand slamming into the side of Danika’s neck in a smoothly delivered judo-inspired, pressure point strike, a method Mac’s own extensive military hand-to-hand combat training commonly referred to as, “knife hands”.

  Mac was familiar enough with the method to know he had just witnessed it being delivered as powerfully and precisely as he had ever hoped to do so himself – and by a woman no less.

  The blow knocked the flight attendant unconscious as her body began to collapse to the floor, but she was caught with hardly a sound by Stasia, who began dragging the larger woman back behind the curtain.

  Stasia looked up to see Mac staring back at her with a mixture of respect, attraction, and uncertainty. He still didn’t know if she could be trusted.

  “When she doesn’t report back they’ll be sending someone else, likely the armed air marshal.”

  Mac nodded back at Stasia. She was right, the flight attendant’s absence would be noticed by the others soon.

  Walter leaned down to try and feel a pulse.

  “Is she dead?”

  Stasia’s mouth curled downward in disgust as she pushed Walter away from Danika’s unconscious body.

  “Of course not – I’m a professional. We need her alive so we can question her. She’ll just wake up with a terrible headache, but otherwise, will be just fine.”

  Mac leaned down and found a pulse, and then nodded toward Stasia.

  “I like your work.”

  Stasia’s cheeks gave a momentary hint of a blush.

  “Thank you, Mr. Walker, I’m looking forward to experiencing some of your work as well. I do enjoy someone who knows what they’re doing.”

  12.

  “Mr. Tilley, am I to understand that we have, or had, an operative on that missing flight out of Paris?”

  Tilley looked across the desk at General Tinny as they sat inside of the low lit conference room tucked away in a corner of the Pentagon’s fourth floor, knowing Mac Walker had in fact been on the now apparently missing, Atlantis Flight 444.

  “Mr. Walker isn’t one of ours General – not yet.”

  The general’s fleshy, well fed face fell upon itself into a look of abject disgust as he turned his head to the left to look at an immaculately dressed man by the name of Stephen Mardian who had considerable connections with nearly every high ranking politician in Washington D.C. Mardian’s role was to oversee the continued funding of Project Icon, and at least in his own mind, was the unofficial head of the off the books organization.

  RayTilley also considered him an arrogant, self serving pain in the ass. Both Mardian and General Tinny were made for each other.

  “I believe the general is trying to express his concerns about any potential, perceived involvement our organization might have had in the plane’s disappearance Mr. Tilley. Media speculation is running rampant, and it’s as if the aircraft simply…disappeared. With public interest in the story rising, well, that means it becomes a political matter as much as a search and rescue operation. So what we want from you, are assurances that no connection will be made between Mr. Walker, and Project Icon.”

  It took considerable effort for Ray Tilley not to tell the other two men to go to hell. Tilley’s primary concern was for the safety and well being of his operatives. Both the general and Mardian on the other hand, put continued funding and the furthering of their own careers and political influence as top priorities.

  There was something in the general’s look though to suggest the military bureaucrat’s concerns regarding the missing plane went beyond Mac Walker’s unrelated presence on that flight. The general, and likely Mardian too, was holding something back.

  “I can assure both of you that there will be no link to Project Icon. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear the rest of this story. Why the meeting? Why the concern over a link to Project Icon? Even if Walker was already one of ours, which he’s not, we’re off the books. You both know that. So where is this concern really coming from?”

  General Tinny leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in front of him, seeming to wait for Stephen Mardian to decide if any more
information would be forthcoming. Mardian in turn sat silently ensconced in his perfectly tailored custom suit and tie, staring back at Tilley.

  Quickly losing patience with the men’s silence, Tilley rose from his seat and nodded to each of them.

  “Ok, if you want to remain quiet and keep me out of whatever loop you two think you’re in, fine. I’ve got things to do gentlemen.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Tilley.”

  The general’s tone made it clear he wasn’t asking.

  Ray Tilley slowly lowered himself back into his chair and waited. General Tinny nodded once at Mardian, who in turn, slid a single, manila file folder across the table toward Tilley.

  “Look over that and tell us what you think.”

  Ray looked at Mardian and then down at the folder before opening it. Inside was a simple intelligence brief on a very attractive woman by the name of Stasia Wellington, an apparent operative for the Vatican Intelligence Service. Her credentials indicated high intelligence, and combat qualifications that would rival those of any Ray Tilley had working for him within Project Icon.

  “I wasn’t aware the Vatican had military trained operatives of this kind.”

  Mardian’s eyebrows rose slightly as he shook his head.

  “They don’t – not officially. Unofficially though, I’d put them right up there with the Israeli’s Mossad.”

  Tilley, though impressed by the woman’s credentials, was confused as to why he was given her file.

  “And what does this have to do with Mac Walker, or the missing plane?”

  General Tinny cleared his throat as he pointed toward the file that remained in Ray Tilley’s hands.

  “She was on that flight too, along with your Mr. Walker.”

  Tilley looked back down at the photograph that accompanied Stasia Wellington’s file, wondering what a Vatican Intelligence operative was doing on a plane that inexplicably went missing less than an hour after take off. Perhaps it was merely another coincidence, similar to Mac Walker’s own presence on the flight?

  “I still don’t understand what this has to do with Mr. Walker. Are you trying to imply he had some kind of connection to this woman, and/or the missing plane?”