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

by D. W. Ulsterman

“Of course, you said yourself I’m not a businessman who would leave things to chance.”

  It was Mac Walker who then smiled.

  “Good.”

  Mac lifted the AK-47 upward before sending the butt end of the assault rifle crashing into Ramtin Armeen’s forehead, knocking him out. Mac then reached down and retrieved the billionaire’s phone and pressed the redial button. The call rang twice before an agitated male voice with

  a deep Middle Eastern accent picked up.

  “Yes, Mr. Armeen, we are terminating. You should not be calling me again!”

  Mac’s smile widened as he ended the call without saying anything.

  Well I’ll be damned the lying bastard was telling the truth!

  9.

  The next call Mac made on Ramtin’s phone was to Tilley. He told the Project Icon supervisor he had taken the Iranian billionaire alive, but was at the moment unable to locate Hamid Gilani. When Tilley heard Mac had made Ramtin call off one of the terror cells, and that the other terror cell contacts were saved on the billionaire’s phone, Tilley made clear his gratitude to Mac.

  “I’ll have someone at the farm within the hour, Mac. Ramtin Armeen will be taken into custody, and the Feds will use the contact numbers to sweep the terror cell locations. You did real good.”

  Mac glanced toward the pigs that had returned to happily munching on Allid Safarah’s body. He didn’t share Tilley’s optimism. So long as a man remained out there somewhere who was as dangerously motivated to inflict harm upon others as was Hamid Gilani, the assignment was not complete.

  “We still have to take care of Gilani.”

  “I agree, Mac, and we will. We have all the local, state and federal agencies on alert. We’ll get him too. After you hand off Ramtin and his phone, why don’t you go back to the safe house and relax? I’ll update you as soon as I hear anything on Gilani. You get some rest and I’ll be briefing the senator on today’s developments.”

  Ramtin Armeen began to stir where he sat propped up against the side of the limo.

  “What’s gonna happen to Ramtin? I thought the senator didn’t want to risk him lawyering up on us?”

  Mac could hear Tilley’s smile pressing against his phone.

  “Oh, I don’t think we need to worry about Armeen manipulating the benefits of the U.S. legal system. We have other options on what to do after we get every bit of terrorist-related information we can pull out of him.”

  Mac looked up at the sound of an approaching helicopter.

  “Guess they took your heads-up pretty serious, Ray. They sent a chopper out here already.”

  Tilley had to shout so Mac could hear him over the din of the helicopter.

  “That would be someone from the FBI branch in Chicago. They know to keep this quiet until we’ve had a chance to interrogate Ramtin. While that’s happening their tech department will be extracting all the information from that phone. I’d estimate we’ll have every one of those terror cells locked down by the end of the day. I’m pretty sure you just helped us to save a hell of a lot of lives, Mac – most of them kids. Like I said, get some rest and I’ll be in contact again soon.”

  Ten minutes later found Mac Walker staring down at the outskirts of Chicago through a window of the FBI helicopter as it made its way toward a rooftop helipad atop the Bureau’s Chicago office. Upon exiting the chopper Mac was greeted by an attractive black female in her late thirties dressed in grey slacks and a dark blue fleece jacket who handed him another shadow cell to replace the one destroyed at the pig farm.

  “Mr. Walker, just to be clear, we never met today. You were never here. Mr. Tilley was very specific in his instructions. Please follow me. I’m going to have you exit the building from a utility service tunnel that will take you across the street, understood?”

  Mac merely nodded, appreciating the woman’s to-the-point demeanor and professionalism. He followed her down several flights of stairs and then through a door where he found himself standing in a vast, underground parking garage.

  “Right this way, Mr. Walker. Please stay close to the wall to avoid the security monitors.”

  Mac did as he was told. He was taken to a white metallic door in the far left corner of the garage. The FBI agent input a code onto a digital keypad and then pulled the door open, motioning for Mac to step into the narrow concrete passage beyond.

  “It’s less than a hundred yards to the other side of the street. The door opens out into an empty alleyway. From there I assume you already know where you intend to go?”

  Mac shrugged and then walked into the tunnel.

  “Yeah, I’m good.”

  Before she closed the door behind him, the FBI agent looked up at Mac and then took his right hand into her own and shook it firmly.

  “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Walker. Thank you for what you’ve done for the country, and please be careful. Oh, and one more thing, you’ll definitely want to clean yourself up. You smell like Satan’s ass.”

  The door closed leaving Mac alone in the tunnel. He tilted his head downward until his nose brushed up against his left forearm and then he inhaled and was promptly greeted by the reality of what the FBI agent suggested.

  Whew!

  A shower and change of clothes was definitely in order.

  9:20 p.m.

  Mac awoke to the sound of his newly received shadow cell. He had returned to the safe house by cab, quickly taken a shower, and then decided to lie down for what he intended to be a short nap. That had been almost five hours ago.

  “You still in Chicago, Mac?”

  Tilley sounded upbeat and rested - a stark contrast to Mac’s own struggling to wake senses.

  “Uh, yeah…figure I’ll fly back to Louisiana tomorrow morning.”

  “Just wanted you to know we got a line on Gilani. An image grabbed from a rest area camera off Highway 31 in Northern Michigan appears to be him. Looks like he’s planning on trying to cross into Canada. Feds have an entire detail on their way to the area. Thought you’d like to know.”

  Mac wiped the sleep from his eyes with his left hand while holding the phone up to his ear with his right.

  “Yeah, that’s good news, Ray.”

  “Oh, and we’ve already shut down over twenty of the terror cells and I was informed about ten minutes ago two more are turning themselves in. These guys were armed to the teeth, Mac. We found the list of the targets. It’s just as we suspected, a bunch of schools, a few college campuses, and daycare centers. The public won’t even know about it - just another almost disaster that was avoided. It all came together so well, you and your team are gonna get a lot of work after this. The senator is particularly happy to have Project Icon available to him.”

  Mac stood up from the bed and looked out the window to the bustling traffic below. He watched a laughing couple exit Uncle Chan’s across the street and suddenly remembered his promised 10:00 dinner with Li’s family in their home above the restaurant, a memory that caused Mac’s stomach to growl its own reminder he hadn’t eaten anything since morning.

  “Hey, Ray, I gotta go grab a bite - just realized I’m starving.”

  Ray Tilley chuckled.

  “You bet, Mac, and have a safe trip home.”

  Mac put the shadow cell down on the narrow kitchen counter and then began to put on a fresh change of clothes. All he had left in the apartment that was clean was a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of reasonably clean white running shoes. His sidearm and shoulder holster were slung over a chair next to the bed. Without a jacket to wear he had nothing in which to conceal his weapon. He certainly wasn’t going to wear his pig-mud drenched windbreaker to dinner.

  Then again, the idea of going anywhere without his weapon was not something Mac Walker was willing to entertain either.

  What to do, what to do…

  Mac glanced at his watch and saw it was just past 9:30. Punctuality had long ago been instilled in him by his parents, and even more during his time in the military. He had no intention of s
howing up late to dinner with Li’s family. The food was bound to be good, and as for Li, Mac hoped she might prove interested in getting to know him a little better as well.

  The increasingly hungry Project Icon operative jammed his SIG P226 into the back of his pants, held the shoulder holster in his left hand, and made his way to the door. As his hand reached out to unlock the deadbolt he paused, instinctively wondering if Tilley could have been wrong about Gilani making his way north through Michigan.

  Mac reached back and withdrew his handgun and turned off the apartment’s lights. He then returned to the window and scanned both sides of the street looking for anything, or anyone that struck him as out of place.

  Having confirmed as best he could no-one was waiting to ambush him, Mac moved himself back to the door and unlocked it, gun held ready, and then opened the door halfway. He was relieved to find nobody waiting on the other side to kick the door in, or take a shot at him. Mac stepped out onto the stairs and peered into the gloom of the empty alleyway below. The only thing to be found was the rental car parked in the very same space as it had been when Gilani had taken an iron bar to his head which initiated the unexpected field trip to pig farm hell.

  Mac locked the door behind him and then bound down the stairs, keeping himself low as his eyes continued to scan the area around him. He then made is way to the sidewalk and stopped a young Asian teenager dressed in an oversized red satin Chicago Bulls athletic jacket.

  “Hey, you speak English?”

  The teenager paused, his face a mix of fear and uncertainty.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’ll give you a hundred dollars for your jacket.”

  The young man’s eyes widened slightly. Mac had his full attention.

  “You have the cash on you?”

  Mac took out a roll of bills from the front pocket of his jeans.

  “Yeah, so we have a deal?”

  The teen glanced at the money and then looked back up at Mac.

  “Two hundred.”

  Mac was about to protest but his determination not to be late for dinner pushed aside his certainty the kid was squeezing him.

  “Fine, I’ll give you two hundred. That thing better not smell like smoke.”

  The Asian shook his head as he began to remove the jacket.

  “I don’t smoke and this thing is almost new! You a tourist or something?”

  Mac took the jacket and then gave the teenager the two hundred dollars.

  “No, just a guy on his way to dinner.”

  The kid took the money and then was off, likely wanting to hurry away before Mac changed his mind. Mac strapped his shoulder holster on, holstered his weapon, and then zipped the front of the jacket halfway up, happy to find it was an almost perfect fit.

  His stomach growled again as the smells from Uncle Chan’s wafted across the street. Mac caught a flash of motion from the second floor of the restaurant building and looked up to see Li waving happily down at him.

  “I’ll come down and let you in! Dinner is almost ready!”

  Mac waved back and then made his way quickly across the street. When he reached the other side he stopped to look behind him, certain he was being watched.

  His hand reached toward the holstered SIG as he thought he saw something move in the darkness of the alley just behind the parked rental car. A large truck rumbled down the crowded street, momentarily blocking Mac’s view of the alley.

  By the time the truck passed by, whoever might have been in the alley was gone.

  If anything was even there at all.

  Mac heard Li unlocking the restaurant door behind him. He turned and was greeted by her wide, friendly smile. She wore a knee-length cream colored dress that fit snugly over a firm, compact body. Her dark hair was tied back in a pony tail that, when combined with her porcelain-smooth skin, made her appear barely old enough to drink.

  “I was worried you would forget! Grandmother is looking forward to meeting you! I hope you are hungry!”

  Mac offered his host a quick half smile as he nodded.

  “Actually, I’m starving.”

  Li had Mac follow her into the near darkness of the closed for the night restaurant and then toward the kitchen area in the back where a door stood open inside of which was a dimly lit staircase leading to the second floor. Before heading up the stairs she turned to face Mac, her voice suggesting a hint of shyness.

  “My family has never invited a customer upstairs to eat with us in our home, but after the great favor you did for us, they are honored to have you as their guest. I am honored to have you as our guest.”

  Mac lifted his nose upward and took a deep breath, inhaling the multiple flavors of the excellent meal that awaited him upstairs.

  “I just try and do what needs to be done, Li. Can’t say I always get it right, but I do try.”

  Li found herself staring at the intensity that flickered within Mac’s eyes before she quickly looked down, embarrassed Mac might have noticed. Unfortunately her eyes came to rest on another area of Mac’s blue jean clad form, which caused her even greater panic.

  “Uh, right this way.”

  Mac Walker suppressed a smile as he noted how flustered Li had become. That is, until he found himself staring at her backside at the very moment Li turned around and caught him doing so.

  Li was on the step above Mac so their faces were nearly even as she turned all the way around to face him. The right corner of her mouth curled upward into a slight grin just before she took Mac’s face in both of her hands and pulled him closer. Her lips initially just brushed lightly against his before they parted and then returned to kiss him with much greater force and urgency, a gesture Mac happily returned in kind.

  Li’s eyebrows raised slightly above her dark eyes, conveying her appreciation for Mac’s willingness to accommodate her desire to kiss him, something she had wanted to do the moment he had saved her from the frightening confrontation with the violent customer the previous day.

  “I am very glad there are still men like you who try to get it right, Mac.”

  10.

  The upstairs apartment that was home to Li and her family was an eclectic mix of well organized chaos. The walls were covered in family photos and an assortment of heirlooms sat atop tables and desks throughout the space. Though somewhat cramped, Mac immediately sensed it to be a place filled with love, a testament to the likely challenging journey that had taken the family from China to the United States.

  Mac was re-introduced to Li’s father Charlie Yang and her mother Lin. Charlie was nearly sixty, while Lin was not yet fifty. Both had faces that bore the deep lines of hardship and toil, but their eyes happily reflected the kindness and hope so common to American immigrants who had come to love the country that had taken them in and granted such generous opportunity.

  Li motioned for Mac to follow her toward the kitchen where a white haired old woman dressed in an oversized blue sweatshirt and tan khaki slacks sat watching him carefully with heavy lidded eyes and the faintest of smiles on skin that appeared as thin and dry as parchment paper.

  “Mac, this is my grandmother, Ping. She turned eighty-six last month.”

  The grandmother rose from her chair and though she shared the same bent back as her son and was considerably older, she moved with a confident quickness that belied her many years.

  Both Li and Mac listened as the old woman pointed to Mac while saying something in her native tongue to her granddaughter. Li turned and smiled to Mac.

  “She would be honored to give you a reading, Mac. In China she made a little money telling fortunes on the streets of Lhasa. People continue to see her here as well for a reading from time to time. It is considered a great honor for her to make you this offer.”

  Li’s parents had gathered behind their daughter and were looking up at Mac as well, clearly hoping he would agree. Mac Walker considered such things as fortunes and organized religion to be little more than mumbo-jumbo meant to make people feel better about
things they could never hope to understand, but not wanting to offend Li’s family, especially her grandmother, he nodded his head.

  “Sure, why not?”

  Li’s father began nodding his head as well, speaking in heavily accented English.

  “Good, good. I will get you a chair.”

  The old woman returned to her own chair and waited patiently for Mac to take his place directly in front of her. Charlie pushed a black wooden chair behind him and then motioned for Mac to sit.

  Li’s grandmother stared silently into Mac’s eyes for several seconds before lifting her hands toward him with the palms facing up. Mac glanced at Li, wondering what he was supposed to do next. Li gave him a reassuring smile.