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

by D. W. Ulsterman

  At the far end of the apartment complex parking lot, furthest from his front door, was parked Mac’s car – a 1984 white and rust, four-door Dodge Dynasty. The car blended well with traffic, was unlikely to draw attention – especially from law enforcement. Unknown to the casual observer though, Mac had spent nearly twenty grand over the years in mechanical, suspension, and frame upgrades. Under the hood was a supercharged engine from a body damaged 1997 Acura NSX that pushed the decrepit looking Dodge’s zero to sixty time to just over four seconds. The trunk had a hidden compartment housing Mac’s most favored weapons, including his personally modified, fully automatic M16 combat rifle. The gun was illegal as hell in the current anti-firearm United States where it seemed all but a plastic pea shooter was now banned thanks to the federal government’s full support of the United Nations’ global health and human safety program.

  From my cold dead hands.

  Mac allowed himself a slight smile. He always liked that old actor Charlton Heston. Mr. Ben-Hur certainly knew what was coming via the massive expansion of government powers and central authority controls over all things living and dead. As he walked toward the parked Dodge Dynasty Mac felt the comforting weight of his always present MK25 handgun he kept holstered just under his left armpit. It was the same weapon he had used during his Navy SEAL days, and it had been with him ever since.

  The hard leather soles of Mac Walker’s Allen-Edmonds wingtip leather shoes echoed across the parking lot pavement as he neared his car. When back stateside and not on an assignment, Mac had always felt it a requirement to dress properly, a habit he had learned from his accountant father and in turn very much encouraged by his Southern mother. A pair of well shined shoes, properly fitting dress slacks, shirt, and appropriately matching jacket were necessities born of an older generation Mac had long felt went missing somewhere during America’s rush to embrace the next technological “big thing.” It seems the desire for gadgetry had overtaken the need for basic common sense and dignity.

  Sitting inside the Dodge, Mac turned the key and felt the familiar sense of satisfaction as he heard the supercharged engine rip itself awake from its slumber. It was a serious sound, appreciated by a serious man intent on finding out who was eliminating the members of his team, and then dealing out the kind of deserved retribution that was the hallmark of Mac Walker’s somewhat unique and often deadly talents.

  If I find you, whoever you are…it’s gonna be killing time.

  II.

  Dasha Al Marri sat across from her uncle Ali, who in turn was related by marriage to the Saudi Royal Family. In addition to her own family’s ranking directly within Dubai society, and their multiple business interests located both in Dubai and London, Uncle Ali was the bridge between her family and the House of Saud, which in turn, made him both very powerful, and much feared. For Dasha, fear was a rare occurrence, herself a very powerful and wealthy woman in her own right, but in the presence of Uncle Ali, fear was the constant reminder his ranking in the socio-political hierarchy of their world surpassed even her own.

  “Dasha, there remains concerns. The organization is not entirely happy with these loose ends, and your rather slow process of eliminating them. There are U.S. elections coming up very soon now. The organization would very much appreciate those elections going according to plan.”

  When Uncle Ali spoke of the organization, he referenced the vast and unofficial global operation that fell under the directive of the specific members of the Saudi government, all of whom were high ranking members of the Saudi Royal Family. It was an organization funded by trillions in energy sales, arms dealing, currencies, and a multitude of global humanitarian programs that were no more than vast money laundering schemes. The organization’s primary members, in addition to the Saudis, included carefully positioned United Nations officials, heads of international corporations, financiers, and politicians across the globe.

  “It is being handled Uncle. We just terminated one of them two days ago. That leaves just two more, and neither of them have spoken to anyone regarding the events in Benghazi.”

  Uncle Ali’s dark, unblinking eyes stared back at Dasha, giving no indication of whether or not he believed her words. His thinning grey hair was combed back from his prominent forehead. A large hooked nose loomed over his thin and constantly turned downward lips, accompanied by jowly cheeks residing on both sides of his mouth. As a young girl Dasha recalled having thought her Uncle Ali a handsome, powerful man. Time and accumulated corruptions had robbed him of those looks though, and he sat in front of her now an old lion, tired, grey, though still capable of inflicting great damage if provoked.

  “And how can you be certain of this, Dasha? How do you know of what, or to whom, they speak?”

  Dasha allowed her eyes to glance to the window of her London apartment that overlooked the small, iron fenced park below. London had always been her favorite home, the one she increasingly grew unwilling to leave. Though born in Dubai, and linked there by her family, it was London she cared most for. It was London that she felt compelled to reshape into her hopes for a future dominated by the mandates of a New United Nations where she could then be the master of all things relating to the city she loved. Already the Muslims were rioting with increased regularity in the streets. Demands were being made, and then met by a government increasingly overburdened with a vast welfare system it had no hope of ever paying for, very similar to what had been initiated in the United States. Soon both countries would find themselves swallowed up by Dasha’s dream of a New United Nations that would even dwarf the size and influence of her Uncle Ali’s “organization”.

  And when that day comes dear Uncle, you will be among the first to fall. Your time is past – mine is just now beginning.

  “I asked you a question, Dasha.”

  Uncle Ali’s tone had become dangerous. Dasha knew that tone well – she had heard it spoken to others shortly before their lives were no more.

  “We have been watching them closely, Uncle - very closely.”

  The face of Dasha’s uncle contorted with disgust, his hand waiving her away dismissively.

  “Bah! I do not want to hear of watching, Dasha! You are expected to do what you are told. Be done with these idiotic Americans and their observations of Benghazi. We cannot afford to have them in contact with any who might endanger our organization. There are still powers within the United States that could do us harm. We have the White House, but not yet all of Congress. Finish this uncertainty, so that we might proceed with the transformation soon after.”

  Though Dasha’s beautiful Middle Eastern features returned her uncle’s words with a smile and nod of her head, her mind seethed in anger at having been spoken to like a common servant.

  You don’t have the White House Uncle – I do. The adviser is MINE – she does my bidding, not yours.

  “Your inaction wouldn’t have anything to do with your lying down with that man would it?”

  Now it was Dasha’s turn to stare back icily at her uncle as she sensed her always present security detail Nigel tensing as he stood in the far right corner of the room.

  “Who I may or may not is none of your business dear Uncle.”

  Uncle Ali’s eyes widened in shock as his own two man security team inched closer to his place on Dasha’s couch.

  “All your time in London has lessened your respect toward your betters Dasha. You forget your place, and how easily all that you are and might ever be, could be taken away from you.”

  For a brief moment, Dasha considered killing her uncle as he sat across from her. She had no doubt Nigel could handle Uncle Ali’s two men, and she felt equally confident she could have a knife deep into her uncle’s throat before his age-slowed reflexes would be able to react.

  Not yet. Soon…but not yet.

  “I apologize, Uncle. Forgive me.”

  Uncle Ali stood up from Dasha’s couch and smiled down at her.

  “No, don’t get up. I can show myself out. As for you Dasha, you
are to leave London today. Go to the United States and personally oversee the elimination of these two remaining loose ends. Do you understand? This is not my request alone, but rather the wishes of the organization itself. To refuse them would be…unwise.”

  Though Dasha’s mind screamed in protest at the thought of returning to the United States, a place she despised for its vast and seemingly unending self-importance, she knew that she was not yet powerful enough to refuse an order from her uncle and the organization. She simply smiled up at him and nodded.

  “Of course, Uncle, I am honored to be given the opportunity to again prove my worth to you.”

  The palm of Uncle Ali’s soft, fleshy right hand lightly slapped Dasha’s left cheek.

  “That is a good girl, Dasha. You leave here today – and see to the deaths of those ridiculous Americans. And don’t look so glum! All is going as planned. Soon the American government itself will give itself fully over to us!

  III.

  Mac had made good time, arriving at the meeting place at a highway rest area just outside Bardstown, Kentucky nearly thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Benny would be driving down from his location in Memphis. He had much less distance to travel than Mac, but given Benny’s obligations to his family, Mac considered it more than fair that he be the one to driver the greater distance.

  As his car pulled into the northernmost portion of the rest area, Mac spotted Benny emerging from the shadows. He signaled Mac with a quick thumbs up to let him know the area was safe. Mac felt a quick sense of relief at the sight of Benjamin Williams, the last of his former team besides himself, who still remained alive.

  Benny’s wide smile flashed back at Mac, indicating he too felt a similar sense of relief at seeing his team leader stepping out of his parked car.

  “Sorry for the drive, Mac – don’t feel safe leaving my family alone for too long.”

  Mac extended his right hand and grasped Benny’s in a firm handshake. Despite the daily stress that followed the assignment in Benghazi, Benny still managed to look cheerful and in good health. His dark, nearly unlined face held no indication of panic, but rather only the mildest bit of concern.

  “No need to apologize, Benny – it’s just good to see you man. This shit is getting so crazy. Minnick? I just…I just can’t believe it.”

  Benny’s eyes scanned the rest area again, the darkness illuminated by a row of tall street lamps that extended along the rows of parking spaces.

  “I hear that, Mac. Like I told you, they want us quiet, and that means dead. Benghazi man, like Jack told you, never should of…”

  Benny’s voice trailed off as he realized he was placing yet more blame onto Mac’s shoulders – something he hadn’t intended to do.

  “Hey, Mac we’re all grown men. We took the job because that’s what we do, right? I ain’t blaming you for it. Just wish all of us had paid more attention to the warnings Jack was giving us. All that paranoia of his turned out to be right.”

  Mac offered Benny a weak smile and then decided to get to Benny’s reasons for calling him here.

  “Why the meeting, Benny? Something you didn’t feel safe discussing over the phone?”

  Benny’s eyes again scanned behind them before turning back to Mac and nodding.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Look, Mac, I got my family to worry about. They need me around, to provide for them. My little girl, my son, my wife, hell, my wife is already holding down two jobs because my work has all but dried up to nothing.”

  Mac could feel his interior warning siren sounding inside his head.

  “Get to the point, Benny – what are you up to?”

  Benny shrugged, his eyes glancing away from Mac, remaining fixated on the ground below his feet.

  “Reached out to an old military contact of mine. Right after I heard about Minnick’s death. He had been thinking about doing the same for a while too. We need protection from whoever wants us taken out – we can’t do this on our own. And like I said…my family. I got to keep them safe, man.”

  “Who the hell did you talk to, Benny? You can’t trust nobody with this! Nobody! Don’t you think that might have had something to do with Minnick’s death? That he was thinking of talking?”

  Benny raised himself up to his full height, an inch or two taller than Mac, his voice whispering back his response.

  “You ain’t got family, Mac. You don’t understand that kind of obligation. You can pick up and run from one place to the next – I can’t. I won’t. There are people who want the information of what we saw. They want a full investigation of what went down over there. They can provide us protection. There are still some good guys out there. I truly believe that.”

  Mac stood silent, both feeling compassion for Benny’s desire to protect his family, and disbelief he could be so naïve.

  “When are they getting here?”

  Benny’s eyes again glanced behind where Mac stood.

  “Not for another thirty minutes or so. I told them we were meeting at 3:00 to give you time to decide if you wanted to join up with me in this. If you decide to go it on your own, I’ll understand.”

  Mac smiled as he saw the faint glow of approaching headlights growing stronger as at least one vehicle made its way down the entrance road to the rest area.

  “Looks like they decided to get here a little early, Benny.”

  Mac was moving quickly to his car, his gun already drawn and in his right hand. The first vehicle he saw emerge from the darkness was a basic black four dour sedan – government issue. It was followed by an identical second vehicle directly behind the first.

  Benny moved beside Mac’s car, his hands extended out from his body.

  “They’re here to help us, Mac! We can’t do this on our own!”

  Before closing his driver door, Mac looked back at Benny, a hint of concern in his eyes for his former assignment team member.

  “Good luck, Benny. I’m doing this on my own. No hard feelings, but I ain’t trusting anybody these days.”

  After quickly backing the modified Dodge Dynasty onto the rest area’s main road, Mac slammed the accelerator pedal toward the floor, sending the car lunging forward with incredible power and speed, pushing him firmly back into his seat. Looking in his rearview mirror, Mac saw one of the two cars remain parked near where Benny still stood, while the second car attempted to follow him.

  “Ok then, whoever you are, let’s see if you can drive.”

  The Dodge moved toward the freeway on ramp at nearly a hundred miles an hour, its supercharged engine growling greedily to be pushed harder. The black sedan was nearly a full hundred yards behind Mac.

  Once back on the freeway, Mac watched with satisfaction as the speedometer indicated a speed of nearly a hundred and thirty miles an hour. The upgraded suspension system kept the Dodge’s ride smooth and certain even as its speed continued to climb. The early morning traffic was still light, allowing Mac to easily pass what few cars were on the road, the headlights of the black sedan growing fainter behind him.

  Mac glanced upward through the windshield to see if the sedan had any air support. The sky remained clear - whoever these people were, they appeared to be on their own. Mac had no intention of trying to confront them, primarily because he didn’t know who they were or who they worked for. Benny might be right, they could be working to protect him and so, Mac wanted to avoid the possibility of hurting them.

  The Dodge was travelling at nearly a hundred and fifty miles an hour, blasting by a highway sign indicating Lexington was sixty miles away. It was a big enough city to afford him a reasonable chance of hiding out for a day or two while deciding what his next move was. Mac estimated he could make it there within a half hour.

  The custom in-dash radar and laser detection system bleeped a warning, indicating law enforcement was likely somewhere nearby. Mac slowed the Dodge’s speed to seventy miles an hour, hoping his radar warning system had detected the signal in time.

  “Shit.”

  The flas
hing lights of a highway patrol cruiser erupted behind Mac’s vehicle.

  In the space of a few seconds, Mac’s mind evaluated the situation to determine his best course of action. Speeding away from law enforcement would likely initiate other patrol vehicles joining in. An APB would be initiated for all neighboring agencies, greatly reducing his chances of going into hiding. On the other hand, if he allowed himself to be pulled over, the black sedan that had attempted to catch him back at the rest area would soon arrive, and if Benny was wrong about them, both Mac and the patrolman’s life would be in danger. Mac had no issue with putting himself at greater risk, but the life of a simple highway patrolman who likely had a family waiting for him to return safely home was not something he was willing to sacrifice.