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

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “Look, Walker, you can’t kill me. I’ve already called this in. They know all about you and your team. They know about THIS right now. You understand? You kill me and they have you for murdering a federal agent. You and your team, you all go down. You got no protection back home. Tilley’s gone. Mardian too. They might let you go, you’re just a small bug in all of this, but you kill me, that can’t be allowed to just happen. So be a smart guy for once, and just let me walk out of here. Do yourself a favor, do your team a favor, and we all just walk away from this.”

  Mac stood no more than forty feet from Densmore.

  “Can’t do that, Densmore. You killed one of my men. That don’t sit right with me, you know? See, in my world, we don’t cut deals with little shits like you. No, we do the world a favor and kill them.”

  Densmore glared back at Mac, his face twisted in contempt.

  “You’re so stupid, Walker, so damn stupid. What’s going on out here, is so much bigger than you could ever imagine. Do you know the powers involved in this? Do you know what will happen to you? You kill me, it won’t make a bit of difference. There’s a new world coming Walker, and you’re either living in it or dead. It’s gonna happen. It IS happening. Killing me won’t change that. It’ll just make it worse for you and anyone or anything you care about.”

  Mac lowered his rifle, looking Densmore up and down slowly as he shook his head.

  “There ain’t a bit of man left in you, is there Densmore? Look at you begging for mercy, making threats that some higher-ups are gonna come and get me and my men. Is it worth it to you? Working for this kind of government that would kill its own so easily? You think they won’t let me live? What about you? It’s just sad seeing you like this. You got no damn soul left, man! Whatever you were all those years ago, it’s gone - dead. You been dead for years but just didn’t know it. Sold out. Maybe there’s nothing left for me anymore in America. You could be right about that, but I aim to find out one way or the other. As for you…”

  Mark Densmore finally made his move. Mac had intentionally lowered his rifle, knowing the other man was hiding a handgun tucked into the back of his pants. Even a shit like Densmore deserved a fighting chance. Mac’s code of honor required he give him that.

  Not that Densmore had any real hope of outdrawing Mac Walker. The former Navy SEAL rested the sniper rifle barrel in his left hand, which allowed his right hand the freedom to pull out his own handgun at a speed too fast for Densmore’s eyes to follow. Densmore froze with his own weapon raised up halfway between the ground and Mac, his eyes wide in terror at knowing his life was soon to end.

  “No-no-no-no Walker! Don’t do it! I can get you out of here! Protect you! All of you! You kill me, they’ll come for you! All of you!”

  Mac, the death of Jack so painfully fresh in his mind, gritted his teeth as he glowered back at Densmore.

  “You’re done, Densmore.”

  The bullet entered Densmore’s still speaking mouth, exiting the lower base of his skull in a spray of blood and bone. For a half second, Mark Densmore seemed stunned Mac had actually pulled the trigger, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he attempted to speak yet again. Then his body crumpled to the paved road below his feet where it remained motionless.

  Benny, Minnick, Ella and her men were already making certain no other men were alive inside the second SUV. Two bodies were found and pulled out, both killed by gunshot wounds. They did the same with the other black SUV, pulling three more dead bodies out onto the pavement.

  Minnick looked over each one closely, checking to see the weapons issued, their clothing, and cell phones.

  “These are all U.S. government, Mac, every one.”

  Mac didn’t bother to look down at the bodies.

  “Yeah, figured they would be. Get Jack out of the Hummer and into whichever one of these other vehicles that can still drive. We got a plane to catch.”

  Mac, Benny, Minnick, Ella, Udi and Tamir sat inside of the first SUV Mac had shot at that day, with Jack’s body lying in the back as they drove into the Benina Airport facility. They were stopped by several armed United Nations security guards at the gate. Mac leaned his head out the window and growled to the guard who appeared to be in charge.

  “We’re here to see, Mr. Danton. He’s expecting us.”

  The armed men were looking over the many bullet holes that riddled the SUV’s exterior like a series of steel framed pock marks. Mac overheard a familiar, French-accented voice coming from one of the guard’s communication devices.

  “Let them in!”

  No sooner had Mac brought the vehicle to a stop next to the entrance to Louis Danton’s office did Danton himself emerge from the second story stairs and make his way down to greet Mac and the others, a genuine look of relief on his face.

  “I wasn’t certain I would be seeing you this morning, Mr. Walker. I had been told your arrival here was not to be allowed by others. It appears you didn’t listen. Am I to assume Mr. Densmore is no longer among the living, and that he perhaps met his demise on the road to Benina?”

  Mac nodded.

  Danton’s perfectly aligned and brilliant white teeth revealed themselves in a wide smile as he nodded back at Mac.

  “Very good, Mr. Walker! You know, it is a sad but undeniable fact that militant bandits have become quite common in these parts. I will be sure to file a report of the tragic loss of Mr. Densmore and his men to such bandits.”

  Mac smiled faintly but then nodded toward the SUV.

  “I lost a man today, Mr. Danton. I need a couple of favors from you if you don’t mind.”

  Louis Danton stood in front of Mac and held his gaze as he replied.

  “Whatever you need. I believe whatever help I might provide you at this moment will be the last help you receive from anyone for some time. The United States is not the country you once knew it to be, but I assure you, I will have you returned there safely if that is still your wish.”

  Mac Walker closed his eyes at Danton’s remark about America, knowing all too well how true his words were. Mac felt himself returning to a home no longer his own.

  XXIX.

  Mac, Benny, and Minnick sat in the back cargo area of the Air France flight Danton had coordinated to take them from the Ivory Coast to the United States. On the floor of the plane lay a simple pine casket where Jack’s body was stored.

  Before boarding the flight from Benghazi to the Ivory Coast, Mac had taken a moment to thank both Udi and Tamir, and then say goodbye to Ella. She and her men were to be driven to the Bulgarian consulate in Benghazi for protection.

  “Stay alive, Mac Walker. This world needs more men like you.”

  Mac looked back at Ella and grinned.

  “I think a few more like you would do us all a lot more good, Ella. Thank you for your help - for everything.”

  The two didn’t kiss, or embrace. They simply looked at one another for a few more brief moments, and then walked away.

  Hours later, as Mac sat with his remaining team around Jack’s casket, he poured each of them a shot glass of Jack Daniels whiskey, provided to them as one of the two favors Mac had asked of Louis Danton. The second favor was soon to begin as the song Sweet Home Alabama began to blare from the speakers hung in the cargo area of the plane.

  Mac raised his glass and watched as Benny and Minnick did the same.

  “To Jack Thompson, a big corn fed son-of-a-bitch who I’m gonna miss like hell.”

  Mac was surprised to feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he struggled to continue with the toast.

  “Jack didn’t want this mission, but he came anyways, for no other reason than I asked him to. I’ve got to live with that fact for the rest of my life. None us know how long that might be. We’re heading back to a country that seems intent on selling itself out to the highest bidder. But, we’ll make sure to get Jack back to his people, where he can be laid to rest right. He would of done the same for any of us. That’s what soldiers do. We’re brothers. We fin
ish the mission. Goddammit, I’m so sorry Alabama. So sorry…”

  Mac drank the whiskey and then poured another…and then another.

  It was late morning of September 12th when Mac sat around a table inside of an airport bar just an hour after arriving back in the United States. Louis Danton had made good on his promise to deliver them home safely.

  Mac’s phone rang. It was Ella.

  “Mr. Walker, are you in the United States?”

  Mac sensed the strain in Ella’s voice.

  ‘Yeah, what’s the matter?”

  “Have you seen the news yet?”

  Mac glanced up at Benny and Minnick who sat silently looking back at him.

  “Can one of you turn on the news?”

  Benny rose from his seat and asked one of the bar staff to turn on a news channel. Mac looked at the images of a burning building on the screen. He knew it instantly. He and his men had sat directly across the road inside of a safe house watching trucks drive into and out of the very same Benghazi compound the news report was showing footage of having been attacked.

  The familiar face flashed across the screen. Mac instantly recognized the man, having just spoken to him little more than twenty-four hours earlier. The ambassador was dead. The newswoman indicated the administration was placing blame for the attack on some unknown Internet video.

  “Are you seeing the news reports, Mac?”

  Mac watched three more faces scroll across the TV – three more dead Americans.

  “They’re blaming a video.”

  Ella’s laughter held no humor. She sounded incredibly tired.

  “Yes, they are. It was a coordinated attack, Mr. Walker. I’ve already seen the intelligence report. A representative from the Turkish government met the ambassador one hour before he died. He was trying to halt the operation and they killed him. There were all kinds of communications chatter, a stand down order. Three others who knew of the operation were killed as well, all Americans. And the explosions, it wasn’t just mortar fire. There were drones. We have two witnesses who already indicated they spotted a low flying armed drone heading for the second building – the CIA annex. It was drone bombed. Your government attacked and killed its own operatives. The weapons have already been cleaned out. All of them.”

  Mac could feel his pulse slamming against his temple.

  “Are the Israeli’s going to come forward with this Ella?”

  Ella paused, and then whispered a single word.

  “No.”

  Mac knew that was to be her response before he asked the question.

  “They’re walking away?”

  “Yes. I’m being removed from Benghazi within the hour. There will be no report, nothing. They want nothing to do with this. It’s all been…it’s all been a waste. Everything we did, tried to do…nothing.”

  Mac remained silent, still watching the images of the burning Benghazi compound.

  “They’ll come for you, Mac, you and your team.”

  Mac nodded to himself.

  “I know.”

  “What will you do?”

  Mac took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes.

  “Do what I’ve always done, Ella, stay alive…”

  End.

  MAC WALKER’S BETRAYAL

  (Sequel to: MAC WALKER’S BENGHAZI)

  “If we are wise, let us prepare for the worst.”

  -George Washington

  I.

  March: 2014

  “He’s dead, Mac. They killed him. I don’t care what they say, the medical report, they killed him. I know they did. They’re coming after us, just like Ella told you they would.”

  Mac had no immediate response for Benny as he held his surveillance-blocking shadow cell to his ear. He was too stunned at the news of Minnick’s death. They called it a heart attack. One minute he was getting ready to cross the street, and then he dropped like a stone onto the sidewalk below. D.O.A.

  Within twelve hours the body was cremated. How did that happen so fast? Benny was right – “they” killed him. Just like they killed Jack back in Benghazi. And Benny and Mac were next. No sense trying to hope otherwise.

  “Are you taking precautions? Watching your back?”

  Benny’s initial silence indicated his offense at Mac even asking the question.

  “Of course. I’m not like you though, Mac – got my family to worry about.”

  Mac felt a pang of guilt at Benny’s remark. Though Benny had chosen to join Mac’s team, the Benghazi assignment had been controversial from the outset, but Mac pushed for the team to accept it. They needed the money, and Mac thought it worth the risk.

  It wasn’t.

  Jack had bled out in the driver’s seat of an IED blown vehicle on a Benghazi road just outside the Benina Airport. The death still haunted Mac – he woke to it every day, and many hours later, fell asleep to it every night. That is, when he slept at all, which these days wasn’t much.

  Now Minnick was gone too, the second of them to die following the Benghazi assignment. That left only Benny and Mac. There were likely others who had been in Benghazi too at the same time who the administration, the government, the Saudis, whoever it was who was really pulling the strings on what went down there, wanted to be silenced as well.

  It was only a matter of little more time before they came for Mac and Benny. Mac recalled the threat by Dasha Al Marri, how they intended to torture him with the guilt of his men being killed off one by one. So far, they were making good on that promise.

  They – the globalists. Mac had taken to simply thinking of them in those terms. It was likely an overly simplified word, but it worked. A variety of others all joined in the common goal of destroying the United States and bringing as many as possible under global rule. Dasha had called it a “New United Nations”, a conglomeration of oil powers, money manipulators, arms dealers, regulators, and whoever else willing to play a role in breaking apart the concept of individual freedoms and national sovereignty.

  Mac Walker had come to understand the basics of the plot – but too late to save either Jack or Minnick. He wasn’t yet ready to give up on Benny or himself though. Giving up was not something that came easy to a man like Mac Walker. As long as there was life in him, he intended to fight.

  “Can we meet at location three-two-four? That work for you?”

  Mac paused briefly, considering the location of Benny’s proposed meeting place.

  “Yeah, three-two-four - got it.”

  Mac ended the call.

  If someone was picking his team off one by one, having Minnick die of a heart attack was a real shit way to go about it. It left just enough doubt to allow one to relax just a bit. Maybe it really was just a heart attack, right? Try and talk yourself into thinking you were being paranoid. Mac had never used any kind of heart attack inducing drugs on assigned targets himself. That kind of thing always struck him as a bit…effeminate. Wanna take someone out? Put them in your sight and pull the goddamn trigger. Or, get up close and snap their neck. Don’t give them a damn drug. Sure it was cleaner, easier to hide, but Mac never was one for hiding what he did. He wanted others to know what happened. He took out bad people, and if he was dealing out death to those kinds of people, why not make an example out of them?

  Heart attack drugs were available though. Mac recalled seeing an old copy of a CIA report from the 1970’s outlining just such a method. All that was left was a barely seen entrance wound, and the drug itself wouldn’t show up under normal autopsy conditions. Get the body quickly destroyed via cremation, and you have a very clean and efficient means of taking a life.

  Maybe that’s what happened to Minnick. Then again, maybe not.

  Either way, Mac Walker had no intention of relaxing. No way – his paranoia was a big part of what kept him alive. That, and a talent for killing the enemy before they killed him.

  Location three-two-four.

  That was one of several potential meeting places Mac and his team had agreed upon
should a situation like the one he and Benny now faced presented itself. Mac’s current location in Louisiana meant he had better get moving if he was to make the 2:40 a.m. meeting time. Location three was just over ten hours away by car, meaning Mac had to be on the road within the hour.

  A moving target is better than a sitting one. So get moving.

  Mac locked the front door of his simple one bedroom New Orleans apartment. It sat on the second floor facing the parking lot below, allowing Mac a full view of anyone approaching the residence. The rent was paid in cash, ensuring no electronic money trail that might easily lead an assassin to him. Mac never owned a credit card, a mortgage, or even a car loan. He had learned years ago that his profession required a strict cash and carry policy. What money and few valuables he had left were kept in a safety deposit box under his mother’s maiden name at his hometown bank in Carville.