Warning Order: A Search and Destroy Thriller
Page 27
“Shiiit,” Mason screamed, grabbing for the knife’s handle, unable to ward off the blow he knew was coming.
Five quick shots rang out from the sedan and four of them slammed into the bumper of the truck. Al Qatar grunted, staggering backward as one of the bullets smacked him in the chest.
Mason wrenched on the blade and forced himself up. He could feel his flesh tearing and the blade grinding against bone before he tore it free. Blood cascaded from the ragged hole in a torrent of crimson. He could see the F-18 coming back around, lining itself up for a bombing run.
“Jump,” Zeus yelled, his head hanging out of the window as he slowed the sedan.
In an instant, everything slowed down. Mason could clearly see the bomb leave the pylon. He reeled drunkenly forward, hearing the bomb cutting through the air. As he threw himself into the night, the last thing that crossed his mind was: “I kept my promise,” and then he was knocked out by the massive explosion.
CHAPTER 63
* * *
The sun crept over the horizon, illuminating the battlefield in shimmering grays and reds as it cut through the pall of black smoke rising toward the heavens. Bodies lay intermingled with the charred debris left behind by the night’s bombardment.
Renee watched them carry Parker’s body bag out on a stretcher. She was jonesing for a cigarette and found she couldn’t take her eyes off the man who’d almost gotten her killed. What Warchild had said about Anvil stuck in her brain, and she was exhausted, but she knew she couldn’t leave until she found Mason and Zeus.
The medics carried Parker into the back of the Chinook and placed him among the dead. Soon the helo leapt into the sky, blowing a cloud of grit across the tarmac.
“I knew you’d make it,” Darren said, his grime-covered face twisting into a huge smile.
“You got a smoke?” she asked, looking at the barrel of his 240 Bravo, which was stained a grayish white from all the ammo he’d fired.
“Why, hell yes,” he said.
He pulled a pack of Camel Lights out of the pocket sewn into his sleeve and shook out two cigarettes before dragging a match across a green matchbook.
Renee leaned in as he lit her cigarette and took a deep drag, savoring the nicotine that rushed into her system.
A group of engineers was already working to clear the runway, while helos loaded with ammo and food looked for places to land. Scattered small-arms fire crackled in the distance, as if to tell the paratroopers that there was still a fight ahead of them.
Renee knew that once the runway was clear, more troops would arrive, and then they would move out to retake Mosul.
“You going out with us?” Darren asked.
“No, I have to find someone.”
“Well, I’ve gotta go. Glad you didn’t die,” he said with a smirk.
“Yeah, you too.”
It took ten minutes to walk to the edge of the massive crater blown in the middle of the road that al Qatar had taken. Not much was left of the two trucks, and the pieces that hadn’t been vaporized were still smoldering. The concrete was scorched black near the center of the crater, while the edges had been turned a chalky gray by the heat.
Renee knew that no one, not even Mason Kane, could have survived the blast. She felt the tears burning as they welled up. Wiping her eyes, she was about to turn away when she noticed a bloody bandage blowing across a fresh set of tire tracks.
She used her boot to pin the gauze to the ground and kneeled down to pick it up. As Renee held the bandage in her gloved hands, she followed a set of tire tracks with her eyes until they disappeared to the north. She had no way of knowing if it was Mason’s blood on the gauze, but she willed herself to believe that he was still alive. Suddenly she felt an ember of hope catch inside her.
Renee heard a vehicle approaching from her rear and turned to see a Toyota Hilux bouncing toward her. The driver slammed on the brakes, and once he ground to a halt, he stuck his head out the window.
“Hey, are you Renee?”
“Yeah,” she said, making her way over to the Hilux.
“Sergeant Major Mitchell sent me to find you. Get in.”
Renee took one more look at the massive crater and walked around to the passenger’s side of the pickup. She was exhausted, and a groan escaped her lips as she got in, placing the barrel of her rifle between her feet.
“What’s up now?” she asked.
“Sergeant Major just said that they didn’t find the body you were talking about.”
“Wait, what?” Renee demanded as he put the Hilux in gear.
“He said they checked the building, but there’s no body.”
CHAPTER 64
* * *
Mr. David checked his ticket as the boarding agent came over the public announcement system inviting all first-class passengers to board. Lifting his leather satchel off the ground, he was about to move toward the ticket counter when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Taking it out, he looked at the screen. A smile crept across his face.
“I’ve been waiting for you to call,” he said.
“Been a long week, and the cell service in Mosul was shit,” Mason replied with a laugh.
“I’m just getting on a flight. Where are you?”
“Probably better if you don’t know. Things are about to get bloody.”
“Mason, there is still a lot of work left to do.”
“I’ll see you around,” Mason replied.
The desk agent announced a second call for all first-class passengers, and David handed the man at the gate his ticket.
He walked down the jet bridge, still holding the phone.
“You still there?”
CHAPTER 65
* * *
Mason hung up the phone and looked down at the sling securing his arm to his chest.
He was due for another pain pill, but instead of taking one, he walked over to the window.
Outside the shitty one-room apartment the emerald water of the Mediterranean Sea flickered in flashes of silver and gold while sea gulls whirled and shrieked overhead. The salty air breathed through the open window, gently caressing his face.
“You’re right, Cyprus does have nice beaches,” he said into the microphone attached to his collar.
“I don’t think this counts,” Zeus’s voice replied through the tiny earpiece.
“Relax man, we’re almost done,” Mason said, his hand moving unconsciously to the bandages that itched beneath his white button-up shirt.
“Uh-huh. You better not be scratching at the stitches,” the Libyan scolded.
Mason snatched his hand away with a wry grin, and scanned the surrounding rooftops for any sign of Zeus.
It had been two weeks since Mosul, and his arm was still stiff and heavy. The doctor told him that he was lucky al Qatar’s blade hadn’t done more damage. An inch higher, and Mason could have suffered permanent nerve damage, but as it was, he should heal nicely.
“He’s coming up,” Zeus said a second later.
Mason moved away from the window, slipping the silenced .22 from his waistband before positioning himself behind the door. He desperately wanted a cigarette, but knew the smell would alert his target. It seemed like an eternity, but finally he heard movement in the hall followed by a key slipping into the lock.
Warchild checked the apartment from the threshold, like a rat searching for predators before coming out of its hole. The first thing Mason saw was the Glock clutched in the man’s hand and the backpack strap hanging off his right shoulder as he stepped inside and moved to clear the bathroom.
Mason bumped the door shut with the outside of his left foot, and chopped the butt of his pistol across the base of Warchild’s neck.
Warchild dropped to his knees, the backpack flying off his shoulder, and the pistol clattering across the floor. Mason moved to his right and snapped a wicked kick across the man’s face, knocking him flat on his back.
“Rule number one, always check behind the door,” Mas
on said, centering the .22 on the man’s forehead.
“You . . . you’re fucking dead,” Warchild sputtered, before spitting two of his teeth onto the concrete floor. He had shaved his mohawk, and in its place dark stubble was beginning to grow in.
“Not yet. I have no idea how you made it this far, you have no fucking field craft.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Don’t be mad at me, you’re the one too lazy to cover his own tracks.”
Warchild glance at the pistol lying three feet to his left, and Mason smiled.
“Really? You think you can make it?”
Warchild shifted, and the .22 coughed, sending a bullet ice-picking through Warchild’s shin.
The man howled before gritting his teeth and taking the pain.
“You going to beg?” Mason asked, lining up the kill shot.
“Would you?” Warchild grunted.
“Nope,” he replied before firing a round through the man’s eye.
Warchild’s head snapped back, and his skull bounced off the floor with a meaty thud. Mason took a step forward and fired again—ensuring that the man was dead. He stooped to collect his expended brass, and after placing them in his pocket, set the pistol on the table.
Using his good arm, he rifled through Warchild’s pockets, before picking his pistol off the ground and stuffing it in the man’s backpack.
“I’m coming out,” he said, grabbing the .22 off the table and heading for the door.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
* * *
First and foremost I’d like to thank the Lord for his faithfulness and grace.
Writing a book is the easy part. It’s the professionals behind the scenes who do the real work. Once again, my agent Bob Diforio, along with Matthew Benjamin and his team at Touchstone, have taken dreams and turned them into reality.
Without all of your tireless shaping and polishing, Warning Order would just be a stack of paper. I cannot express how grateful I am to have you guys on my team. I honestly can’t imagine working with anyone else.
Read the first Mason Kane thriller from Joshua Hood
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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© KIM JAY
Joshua Hood graduated from the University of Memphis before joining the military and spending five years in the 82nd Airborne Division, where he was team leader in the 3-504 Parachute Infantry Regiment. In 2005, he was sent to Iraq and conducted combat operations in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom from 2005 to 2006, and from 2007 to 2008 he served as a squad leader in the 1-508th Parachute Infantry Regiment and was deployed to Afghanistan for Operation Enduring Freedom. Hood was decorated for valor in Operation Furious Pursuit. He is currently a member of a full-time SWAT team in Memphis, Tennessee, and has conducted countless stateside operations with the FBI, ATF, DEA, Secret Service, and US Marshals.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Joshua Hood
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First Touchstone hardcover edition June 2016
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hood, Joshua.
Title: Warning order : a search and destroy thriller / Joshua Hood.
Description: First Touchstone hardcover edition. | New York, NY: Toushctone, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc., 2016. | Series: Search and destroy ; 2 Identifiers: LCCN 2015026383 | ISBN 9781501108280 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781501108297 (trade paper) | ISBN 9781501108303 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Special operations (Military science)—Fiction. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3608.O5574 W37 2016 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015026383
ISBN 978-1-5011-0828-0
ISBN 978-1-5011-0830-3 (ebook)
CONTENTS
* * *
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Acknowledgments
About the Author
earch and Destroy Thriller