Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset
Page 57
Benjamin finished his stretches and wondered what was taking his men so long. They’d parked just up the road. He decided to walk down the road and meet them on the way.
After a minute of walking, the car still hadn’t come his way. Benjamin cursed himself for not having a weapon. He was getting too lax in his supposedly safe surroundings. Coming around a bend, he spotted the armored black Audi A8 parked on the side of the road. He could hear the smooth engine purring. What are those fools doing?
Because the vehicle had blacked out windows, Benjamin couldn’t see inside. Moving cautiously around the vehicle, he made his way to the passenger side. I’ll kill these idiots if they’re looking at porn again.
He’d been forced to find new bodyguards after losing his most loyal men days before. Reaching out a hand, Benjamin went to open the rear passenger-side door.
“Hello, Benjamin,” said a voice in English.
The Pakistani whipped around, dropping into a protective crouch as he spun. Standing with his hands casually pointing a rifle at him was a man with brown hair and a sly grin. He’d apparently materialized from the tree line next to the road.
“Who are you?” Benjamin asked.
“I’m surprised you don’t know, Benjamin.”
He stared at the man dubiously.
“I assure you that I have no idea. It seems that you have the upper hand.”
The man nodded. “That’s true.”
“If you know who I am, I can also assume that you know I am a man not to be trifled with. My men will be here any second.”
The stranger laughed as if he were the only one privy to a secret joke.
“I’m afraid your men won’t be coming to your rescue, Benjamin.”
Benjamin’s eyes narrowed.
“Go ahead and take a look in the car.”
“Are they dead?”
The man shrugged. A chill ran down Benjamin’s spine. How did he get to my men? This was his territory. He owned every roadblock and soldier in the area.
It would be unfair to say that the terrorist was afraid. He’d been in too many battles to be frightened by death. It would be accurate to say that Benjamin was concerned. No one had ever gotten this close to him in nearly twenty years. He still bore the scars from the interrogation he’d received at the hands of the Pakistani Intelligence Service.
“How did you do it?” asked Benjamin, now casually leaning back again the sedan.
“It turns out the big wigs in your capital don’t like you much. Sounds like you’ve been a thorn in their side for years. They were more than happy to give us safe passage. That, plus a little cash went a long way.”
“So you’re here to kill me.”
“Not me.”
“Who then?”
The young man motioned to the tree line behind him. Benjamin looked and saw a figure emerge. His eyes went wide as the second man limped out.
“Surprised to see me, Benjamin?” asked Neil, as he stepped up next to Cal. He stood with obvious discomfort on a new prosthetic. Neil held a pistol in his right hand.
Benjamin shook his head in disbelief. He could not believe that his countrymen would sell him out to the Americans. After all he’d done for them.
“I supposed there is no way out of this,” he asked.
Neil took a second to respond. “I can think of one way.”
Benjamin couldn’t hide his surprise. “And what would that be?”
“Apologize for my parents,” growled Neil, tears coming to his eyes as he spoke.
Would it really be that easy? These Americans are all alike. Weak, thought Benjamin.
“Very well,” Benjamin shrugged. “I apolo…”
Before he could finish the word, Neil raised the suppressed weapon and pulled the trigger twice. The rounds blasted into Benjamin’s chest. He slid down the side of the car and ended up on his ass, clutching his wounds.
Neil limped over to the dying terrorist, his pistol never leaving its target. Benjamin looked up at his enemy in pain.
“Apology not accepted,” said Neil.
Before Benjamin could utter another word, Neil fired a single round into his head.
Chapter 43
The Lodge, Camp Spartan, Arrington, TN
1:35pm, October 5th
Cal, Neil, Daniel, Travis, Trent, Gaucho and Dunn sat in the weathered leather chairs of the VIP lounge. Each man held a full glass of Tennessee whiskey. They’d just returned from a whirlwind of funerals for their men killed in Wyoming, including Lance. It had been a sobering journey for each of the assembled seven.
MSgt Trent raised his good arm, the other still in a sling, and called a toast. “To the brave men who have gone before us.”
Every man raised a glass in silent salute and took a heavy pull from their whiskey.
Cal stared into his glass, thinking about his lost friend Brian Ramirez. He couldn’t get the picture of Brian’s weeping parents out of his head. They’d hugged him like he was family when, in fact, he’d never met them before.
“Brian told us how much he loved his new friends. He spoke of you often, Cal, and considered you a brother,” Mrs. Ramirez had said between sobs. He’d held her and wept, the pain finally pouring out over the loss of his friend.
They’d exacted revenge on Ponder and the Pakistani terrorists. There was no one left to kill. It was the inner demons that would take time to fade. Like every man in the room, Cal had lost friends before. He knew there was a grieving process. Cal felt that it got harder with age. Maybe it was a finer sense of one’s own mortality and an understanding of the fragility of life.
The bartender, a crusty old Marine Sergeant Major, woke Cal from his reverie.
“Can I get you boys another?”
Everyone looked to Cal for a cue. For some reason he couldn’t explain that despite the deadly rescue in Wyoming, every man in the room, including Travis and Dunn, now looked to Cal as their commander. It felt strange, but his years in the Marine Corps had showed him that even the lowliest Marine can be elevated in status through his actions on the battlefield. Unbeknownst to him, Cal’s swift tracking and killing of Ponder and Benjamin had cemented him as their leader. In their eyes, Cal was his father’s son.
“I think I’ll finish this and take one for the road, Sergeant Major,” answered Cal. The others nodded in agreement and quietly went back to finishing their drinks. They would talk later.
After receiving their refills, the men said their goodbyes and left to get some much-needed rest. Travis followed Cal to the elevators.
“Can I do anything for you, Cal?”
“I’m okay. I think I’ll just get some rack time and then get back to work tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you take a few days off? There’s nothing that can’t wait.”
Cal shook his head. “I need to stay busy right now, Trav. I’ll go stir-crazy if I take time off.”
Travis understood. He knew the pain his cousin was feeling.
“Fair enough. Why don’t we grab breakfast tomorrow morning and then we’ll come up with a game plan.”
“Sound good.”
Cal stepped into the elevator as Travis paused to answer his cell phone. He motioned for Cal to go up without him.
Cal pressed the button for the second level and waited for the doors to close. Just before they slid shut, Travis’s hand stuck in and bumped the doors back open. His face had gone serious.
“What’s up?” Cal asked.
Travis extended his cell phone to Cal and said, “It’s the President.”
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