by Geri Foster
Rye had already ordered the meat omelette with toast and grits. “So, why ex-Navy SEALS?”
“They’re men of integrity, men I know I can trust, and men who’ve proven themselves over time.”
“You saying you don’t find that in newer recruits?”
“No, it’s all there, they just don’t know how to adapt yet. You older men do.” He chuckled and picked up his cup. “Besides, you guys are smarter and use your heads more than your muscles.”
“Thanks for the compliments. Hooray and all that.”
Their food came and they both dug in. One thing SEALs learn from the get-go is to eat fast. Time is always at an essence, and if you dally around, you might not get to finish.
“I have a ticket to California. Get there and hook up with three SEALs who’ll comprise your Team. We couldn’t get a complete team since you’re formally retired.”
“These guys regular SEALs or are they,” Rye made air quotes, “‘retired,’ too?”
“Yes, they’ve served as long as they wanted and are out. None retired, but they agreed to help you on this mission. Of course, if they’re captured, DHS doesn’t know anything about them.”
“Assets once we get there?”
“Woods and Brooks.”
Rye wrinkled his brow. “Tanker Brooks?”
“No,” the Commander said. “Gary Brooks, US Navy retired.” Crash put down his fork. “Sully has a separate mission there that has nothing to do with what you’re contracted for.”
“So, we get in the country under DHS, from there we’re on our own?”
“Right.”
The following day Rye landed in California and headed for Coronado. At the base he caught a C-130 and took off airborne for Afghanistan. There were several military personnel on board, but none were his men, that he knew.
He popped a sleeping pill and dozed on and off until landing at Kandahar Airbase. He debarked to find a car coming toward him. He immediately recognized the driver.
Harper Woods, CIA Asset.
She pulled to a stop and waited for him to get in. Once inside the vehicle there was no small talk and no sentiments of long time, no see. He’d told her what he thought of her at the hearing. Now, he wondered if he hadn’t been a little too harsh. She looked pale and tired.
“I’ve compiled enough intel to be sure where Qamar’s holing up. Getting in won’t be easy. He’s smack dab in the middle of Qalat, surrounded by a village very loyal to his cause.”
“What’s that? Hating Americans.”
She nodded. “Pretty much,” she said, her voice brittle and cold. Rye didn’t expect much more. It surprised him she offered to help him at all after what she said to the Admirals and then after what he’d thrown in her face. It pretty much summed up everything.
In reality, she didn’t hurt or help his case. Crash had saved his ass, but according to him, without her help he’d have never been able to get the information he needed. He had to prove Hussein was intricately involved in every aspect of the Taliban.
“How’s Silas?” she asked. More small talk than anything else. “He still running that front for the DHS?”
“You think it’s a guise?”
“No, not really, just not exactly what it appears. Besides, Silas isn’t giving out enough information for any intelligent person to come up with a summation. That’s always a red flag to the CIA.”
“Yeah, either you are, or you aren’t. Isn’t that what you and your team used to say?” he asked, knowing the answer.
“That’s the only way we can play it. Our job is to hunt down terrorists and if you can’t be all in, don’t step in the pool. Eight years ago this was a red-hot zone for terrorists. Now, they claim we have them on the run. I’m not buying it, are you?”
“I don’t care,” he replied sounding more arrogant than he intended. “I just want to get Khalil-ur Qamar and then I’m out. I promise not to wear out my welcome.”
“You already have,” she said, a dangerous tone in her voice. “I have no desire to be here, either. Once this mission is over, I’m gone.”
“Back to that nice cushiony job in DC?”
Her gaze swung to his and her eyes narrowed. “Crash sometimes has a big mouth.”
“No, he’s hoping we’ll kiss and make up, that’s all. He’s not a man who likes internal conflict.”
After leaving the busy city of Kandahar they drove through the barren desert until reaching the edge of Qalat. There they maneuvered through the crowded streets until they reached a non-descript walled area with several metal buildings. It couldn’t be called a base because they weren’t allowed to have one in the area. However, a heavily armed Marine contingent let them in then locked the gate securely behind them.
She pulled to a stop in front of the bigger Quonset hut. They both got out and she went inside without waiting for him. Rye had his duffle bag but there were no military clothes, or anything issued to him for wearing out of country. So he wore a pair of faded jeans, a pull over and sneakers.
When he entered, Rye took a second glance. A buttload of surveillance, drone views, listening devices and screens were set up in the Comm Center. Harper had three men working all the equipment. They were out of uniform because they were CIA. She’d obviously managed to commission more, higher tech equipment.
“I’ll show you to you and your men’s area.”
They walked past two empty rooms for interrogating a kitchen where a local obviously cooked for them, a rec room with a ping-pong table, TV, video games and magazines. A coke machine sat in the corner and a fridge next to it. He bet it was full of beer.
They finally came to a closed off area with a secured door. She handed him a badge. “You’ll need this to get in and out. This way no one can enter your area without you knowing it.”
“Thanks. The more secure, the better I like it.”
She stepped to the side. “I’ll let you get settled in. Your men are due in later this afternoon. You’ll have a chance to get accustomed to the place before they arrive.”
She left and Rye felt a sense of loss. He’d avoided so many people since getting out, she almost made him uncomfortable. She was still as beautiful as he remembered. Tall, lean, gorgeous blue eyes and dark brown hair. Not only did she possess those outstanding features, she also had a head on her shoulders smart enough to impress a genius when it came to intel, and all other forms of intelligence gathering.
She’d trained with the SAS and Interpol before coming on board with the CIA and they’d been happy to get her. She went through their usual training and came out on top. They put her where she could do the most good. She set up raids, surveillance, ambushes, hostage retrievals, recons and tango hits with the ease that most women cooked dinner.
Time and time again she proved to be virtually invaluable. Little happened in this corner of the world she didn’t know about. Also, she had sources, who had sources, who had more and deeper sources. Whatever got thrown at a Navy SEAL Team in this area, Harper was their best chance of getting out alive. By the time their plane landed she already had everything they needed to know lined up and ready to go. And you never, ever wanted her to interrogate you. Hell, that even sent chills up his spine.
By the time he’d walked the base area, spoke to a few military personnel and made himself familiar with his surroundings, the three-man team landed and were waiting for him in their bunk area.
“Hey, Bravo One?” the biggest guy asked.
Most Team Commanders were referred to as Boss, Boss Man, The Man or Bravo One. He’d always kept it simple. “Yeah, and you are?”
Each one introduced themselves. A tall, medium built guy with a thick head of brown hair and square jaw approached. “They call me Comrade.” He held out his hand. “Because my name is Derrick Mikhailov. It’s Russian. Most can’t pronounce it or spell it, so I go by the handle. But rest assured, I’m full grown American and I didn’t meddle in your elections.”
“So, how’d you get that last name?” R
ye asked with a grin. “If you’re not Russian.”
“My grandfather was an American diplomat years and years ago. My mother stayed in New York but never married my father, although they’re still together and have four other kids.”
Rye pointed to the black guy as big and broad as the refrigerator in the break room. “What’s your handle?”
“They call me Rebel because that’s where I come from. Real name is LaShawn Davidson. I was born and raised in Rebel, Georgia. I’m a proud Southerner and a Confederate.” He winked, his white teeth flashing. Rye liked him immediately. The last guy stepped up and offered his hand. “I’m Mike Robards. I used to ride the rodeo circuit until I joined the SEALs. They call me, Roper.”
Rye laughed. “Okay, I’ll let Harper know. She usually calls a man by his handle.”
“I worked with her when I was with SEAL Team 6 - 4 Red. She’s smart.” Rebel said, smiling with appreciation. “I admire a woman with brains, especially when my life depends on her thinking.”
They laughed. “We’ve all heard or worked with her,” Roper said. “She’s got her shit together.”
“Well, this mission might be her last. I know it is for me. When I find Khalil Qamar, and his second man, whoever that happens to be, I’m done.”
“Crash told us about your team,” Comrade said, his eyes full of regret. “Of course, most of us had already heard. A Team doesn’t go down we don’t hear about. It reminds us all we’re not invincible.”
“It reminds me of what a son of a bitch the bastard is who did it and it makes me want to cut his balls off and feed them to him.” Rye forced himself to stay calm. If he got going, he’d have a hard time coming down off the bitching wagon.
“Let’s grab some chow and then see what Harper has to share with us about the mission,” he said, leading the way. He pressed the badge against the lock and the door opened. He felt Harper had the authority and the ability to lock that door and not let them out until she felt damn good and ready if she wanted to. She had a reputation for shit like that.
The four of them ate in relative quiet. This was the time most Teams chatted up a storm, but they didn’t know each other and it always took time for a Team to come together.
When finished they moved into the Comm Center where all intel would be shared along with directions, instructions and surveillance. Harper would give them a clear picture of their mission. However, when they got there, only the three men sitting at the consoles were in the room. Harper was nowhere to be found.
They all sat around waiting. After about thirty minutes she came in the main door wearing a scarf. Curious, Rye asked already knowing the answer. “Where you been?”
“Meeting a contact.”
“Get anything good?” he asked, knowing she had never been one to share until she’d figured it all out. The look of confusion told him she hadn’t yet, but she was working it over in her mind.
“No, it was a waste of time. The guy was more interested in what we were doing than telling me what he was up to. I suspect he’s a courier for Qamar. He fits the description given to me by another contact, but he denied everything.”
“I’d think around here just mentioning Qamar would get your throat cut,” Roper said, running his index finger across his neck.
“Not so much anymore. There’s a stronger, more powerful warlord in the area now. He’s set on beheading Christians and Jews.”
“He a threat we need to take out?” Rebel asked, cleaning his nails with his Ka-Bar. “I mean, since we’re here.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “We could just clean up the whole damn mess.”
“Yes,” Harper hissed, anger tightening her eyes. “And we could get killed. It’s not our place to interfere as long as they aren’t a threat to America and so far he hasn’t been.”
“Oh, so it’s okay to go around chopping off heads, as long as they’re not Americans?” Comrade stated, a look of disgust overtaking his features.
Harper thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, that’s about right.”
“We have one clear mission here, men,” Rye said, getting everyone’s attention. “We’re after the man who’s responsible for the death of seven United States Navy SEALs. That’s what we came for and we don’t leave until it’s done. Anything else is basically off limits.”
He turned to Harper. “So, what do we have?”
“For years I couldn’t find Qamar after the loss we suffered. He packed up and left. By the time I returned from DC there wasn’t a sign of him anywhere. None of his men hung around either.”
“You think he went underground?” Roper asked. “Went into hiding because he knew we’d be hunting his ass down?”
“We actually did. Rye was barely off the ground before SEAL Team 4 - 3 Blue landed and began the search. I thought for sure we’d catch them in no time.”
“They must’ve planned the attack then also plotted their immediate escape knowing we’d come hunting,” Rebel said.
“But, by doing so, Qamar left all the money behind. There’s over five million dollars in a safe over there and it belongs to him. He’s never came back to claim it.”
“But now he has?” Roper asked. “How does he know you still have it?”
“I pretty much let it be known.” She smiled and the brick wall she’d built around her heart began to crack. “I want to draw him out.”
“You’re lucky the village didn’t turn on you and storm the place.” Rye shook his head. “That’s really foolish.”
“Why do you think we have an entire platoon of Marines on this position? They’ve been ordered to kill anyone breaching the walls.”
“So, now after all this time, he’s come to collect his money?” Rebel asked. “Humph, maybe he wants a new Mercedes.”
They laughed.
“No, I think Khalil Qamar wanted to scare away the Americans and he felt if they wiped out a whole Team of SEALs no one would mess with them. Instead, immediately afterwards another SEAL team came and brought justice with them. Qamar had no choice but to run,” Harper said. “If they’d stayed, they know they would’ve been slaughtered. As it was, Qamar lost his cousin and his right-hand man. Then Rye shot his intel guy. That must’ve shaken him up. They left their families and every possession behind. My intel tells me Qamar managed to sneak off to Egypt. He has a cousin there but when I sent a unit they couldn’t find anything.”
“Their families are still here?” Rye asked, curious they hadn’t eventually come for their wives and children.
“Slowly, their families left. Several times we’ve followed but most went back to their home villages. Now, if they went somewhere from there, we don’t know about it.”
“You never caught one of Qamar’s men to question?”
“Not a single person stayed behind who knew anything.”
Rye sat on one of the tables and folded his hands. “So, why are we here, Harper?”
“Qamar’s brother, Imran, came to the village last month. We left him alone and let him go about his business so we’d get a grip on what his intentions were. I think he was a test.”
“A test?” Roper asked. “What kind of test?”
“My guess,” Harper said, staring at Rye. “He came back to see what we’d do. Since we’ve done nothing, two other men who we know are a part of Qamar’s group, have also returned with their families. One set up a local coffee shop.”
“Are we letting them just get comfortable enough to think we’ve stopped looking?” Rye asked, hoping she had more intel than that.
“You know, when I went to the States to testify, you got mad because I told them we refused to put a reward on Qamar’s head. This is why. I fought against it with every instinct I had. Now, they’re slowly coming back home. Is it in hopes of getting their money back?” She shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know. But, regardless, they’re returning.”
Chapter Five
Harper struggled to maintain her self-control around Rye Ellison, which was nothing new. He
’d always had that effect on her. They’d been really close before his Team went down and she was starting to hear wedding bells way off in the distance. His Team being taken out ended everything between them. Then when he accused her of being a mole, that had been the breaking point for her.
She’s always wondered what would’ve happened if those seven SEALs hadn’t been killed. She and Rye’s Team worked several Ops together and she admired the way he interacted with his men, how he kept them close; protected.
Her and Rye’s relationship begun so innocently, she shook just thinking about the moment things changed. They were in Guatemala sharing a drink and having everyday chit chat. The next thing she knew, they were in the back room of the bar with her back against the wall and him shoving up her skirt. She’d wanted it, maybe before he did, but she never expected it to happen.
Even when he returned from Germany and worked on healing they barely spoke. In fact, he practically accused her of being responsible. Then one night he left the compound and murdered Hussein. That had been his plan all along.
She knew when his Team was taken out a part of him went with them. When she arrived in the States for Rye’s hearing, he’d been colder than ice. Barely making eye contact with her.
At first she’d been questioned about helping him to kill Hussein, but he hadn’t involved her, for which she felt grateful. It would’ve cost her everything if they thought a CIA Asset would go down that road.
Harper didn’t know how she’d feel if he’d come to her. If he’d asked for her help in bringing down the man responsible. Hussein was Qamar’s intel man, and she knew that. It had taken her time to learn, but she did. Why Rye zeroed in on him so quickly, she had no idea, but Rye got his pound of flesh.
They’d forced her to testify at the trial. Those Admirals wanted to fry a SEAL and Rye appeared ripe for the pickings. He was wounded, angry, and couldn’t care less. It’d been Crash who’d practically dragged her back to Afghanistan and with her intel they’d proved Hussein to be one of the top-ranking men in Qamar’s Taliban organization. While she’d known that all along, convincing the Admirals fell to Crash.