Flawlessly Executed (Dark Horse Guardians Book 3)

by Armstrong, Ava

  In the office and makeshift bedroom Lara found a cardboard box near the pull-out sofa bed where Hawk had been sleeping. Inside were photos of Ellen, his deceased wife and maybe his sibling or mother…she wasn’t sure. Another cardboard box held his book collection. As she went through his closet, she realized he had very few pieces of clothing. She scooped everything up and put it into a plastic trash bag. Touching his clothing, smelling him, Lara couldn’t believe he was gone. With a crushing feeling of defeat, she took Hawk’s pillow and curled up on the sofa bed and wept quietly.

  A few minutes later Thompson’s hand rested on her shoulder, “I’m sorry for your loss. You call me tomorrow and I’ll bring this stuff to you after my superior clears it. I’ll take care of it first thing. I promise, ma’am.” She heard his words but couldn’t see him through the tears. Thompson handed her a tissue and she sat up on the sofa-bed.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Thank you.” Lara choked on the words. “He was a close friend.”

  Detective Thompson walked her to the Mercedes and paused before she opened the door, “Are you all right to drive home, ma’am? I can take you.”

  She thanked him for his kindness and drove home to an empty Clearwater Farm. Lara had lost all track of time. Oh God, it’s Sunday. The moment she entered the kitchen Einstein wanted to go down to the water’s edge. She brought a bottle of water and Einstein’s dog food and sat on the beach wearing a heavy wool jacket and sweatpants. She stoked a flame in the fire pit on the beach. It was a chilly day. The sun was beginning to set and she felt as if she couldn’t cry any more. It was as if she was dying inside. A stab of guilt tortured her: if she had warned Hawk about Abby, would he still be alive?

  More than ever, she wanted Ben’s strong arms to hold her. She missed him so much she felt numb as she trudged back toward the house. She needed him more than ever, but he was on a mission. A suffocating sensation tightened her throat. Oh Ben, why can’t you be here with me now?

  She glanced at the beautiful garden Hawk had installed for her. It was perfect. So much of him was in the design. And now every time she looked at it, it would be a painful reminder that he was gone. Hawk, the guy that saved her from a vicious attack when Ben was away. Hawk, her shy soft-spoken friend. He was so young, healthy and full of promise. At sunset, she walked inside the house and turned on the kitchen light over the breakfast nook.

  Her eyes rested upon the book of sonnets on the table. She slid into the breakfast nook, touched the fragile book and started sobbing. Einstein nudged her but she didn’t notice. Her head slipped down onto the table and she felt like she was turning inside out. She couldn’t bear the thought of Hawk lifeless on the cold stainless steel. When he handed her the book of sonnets in the garden he was so hopeful and finally pleased with himself. It was a rare moment of pure contentment for him and she reveled in it, too.

  When she stopped sobbing, she felt dazed. She took a bottle of water and walked to the master bedroom. She sprawled across the bed and scrolled through the photos of Ben on her phone. “I miss you, darlin…” she whispered. Then she scrolled through the photos of Hawk. She didn’t remember falling asleep.

  ~ Ben ~ (in Israel)

  Showering and eating breakfast were expeditious as The Unit led Ben’s team and the Navy SEALs through their respective operations. Burkas were supplied along with the latest body armor and a few weapons to hide beneath.

  Ben slipped on the garment that had sculpted bullet-proof breasts and hips built in. Face powder was put upon his eyelashes. When done dressing, he looked exactly like a middle-aged heavy-set Islamic female.

  Insertion of weapons into the shapewear was strategic. A five-inch fixed blade knife with sheath was placed low on his hip. An H&K MK23 pistol was strapped to his thigh. Stashing ammo was another strategic piece of ingenuity beneath the burka.

  Ben’s team on the perimeter would use Silver Shadow double barreled AR15’s. The SEALs were equipped with the same pistols along with a precision guided 5.56 semi-automatic rifle with the tag and shoot technology found in fighter jets. For the first few hours, the men in burkas moved, walked and talked with direction from Rashida and some of the female Israeli soldiers. At first the men were awkward and frustrated with themselves. Ben felt like he was in a bad high school drama production. But, over the course of the day, the men dressed as women learned the nuances of how to play the part realistically.

  After dinner that night amidst boisterous laughter and jokes, the men suited up again for a nighttime practice session. Everything was different in the shadowed world of night. They practiced their dialects and movements under the watchful eyes of the female soldiers. Finally, at 2:00 AM, they retired to the barracks. Moshe popped his head in, “Good work. But, we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow. I promise you’ll get a big breakfast, then I’ll work you so hard you’ll probably vomit.” He turned off the light and the men were silent, some already snoring.

  Exhausted, Ben tapped his phone and gazed at the photos of Lara. It served no purpose to distract himself in this manner except to increase his loneliness, but he couldn’t seem to stop this ritual. When he was a SEAL on active duty, he ate and slept and fought, occasionally pausing to shower. There was no one else to think about except protecting the guys in his team and the innocents on the mission. He still felt that way, but another thought absorbed his attention when he fell silent. Lara, and how much he wanted to touch her, feel her back against him while he slept. He fell asleep and dreamt he was holding her and making love.

  Awakened too early to shower, Ben dressed and ate like a linebacker. Within minutes he was back to the simulated scenario. In character, he practiced his role in the hit that would take place at the Islamic strip club, although they didn’t call it that. God forbid anyone call a thing what it really was in this part of the world.

  In fact there were many misnomers in the so-called holy Middle East. Contrary to popular belief, the radicals frequented places where women showed their bodies and men often kept concubines. In fact, these particular radicals took great pleasure in raping young women and pre-pubescent boys. Most Americans would be shocked to know what really went on in this part of the world in regards to women and children. But these things weren’t mentioned in America’s politically correct press releases. The American public were unaware and most were not really interested to know about the real war on women.

  However, Ben and his team knew their enemy all too well. The 9/11 terrorists had frequented strip clubs just prior to performing their attacks. The Fort Hood shooter regularly visited a strip club, just after praying at his mosque. The taste for forbidden pleasures wasn’t as unusual as most Islamic men led their minions to believe. And, the things these men did to children were unspeakable. For Ben it made it all the easier to execute them.

  Located in Latakia Syria, “The Garden” was a restaurant that catered to men only. A seaside tourist town on the Mediterranean, the targets made a regular visit there twice a month. The place was privatized just for their party of sixteen on these occasions.

  Ninety miles from the city of Alleppo, this was the only setting where the sixteen men met on a regular basis. The fact that they did so to enjoy the earthly delights of good food and naked women made it the perfect setting for a hit. The targets would be relaxed and focused on the entertainment. The men quickly tired of the same women. Buzz had been carefully planted weeks ahead of time about a new performer. It was rumored she was wild and beautiful, different from the rest and she had Western ways. And, rumor had it she had a provocative surprise in her act that would shock and please the men.

  The mosquito drone and a two insiders gave the team detailed information about the way the night would flow. During the performance, prostitutes served the men, literally and figuratively while they watched the unveiling show. Plenty of food and drink was consumed and many of the men passed around a hookah filled with hashish. Rashida was to be the star performer, but her name and appearance had been altered.


  Practicing her dance for what was maybe the hundredth time, Rashida transformed into Anisa. Wearing black eyeliner and rose-colored lipstick, her long dark hair flowed around her as she twirled. The multi-colored layers draped her lovely body and she moved seductively for an hour-long dance that revealed each part of her anatomy with a calculated gradual exposure.

  Because it was customary for females to travel with other women, Ben, in his burka, would be in the room with Rashida at all times posing as her aunt. One other Dark Horse Guardian, Nate O’Neal, was dressed in a burka and would replace the female lighting technician the night of the mission.

  The SEAL team and the men from The Unit were dressed in the exact garb as the security guards inside and outside of the building. They’d have to time their movements with precision as the limousines dropping off the terror leaders were armed and unpredictably dangerous. This was practice time, but a critical element to the mission. If anything unexpected occurred, the men worked through each scenario with Plan B, then Plan C. The mock-up was exhausting and repetitious at times, but necessary. The killing of these men would be up close, quiet, and swift.

  ~ Lara ~

  Monday morning Lara woke fully clothed on the bed and Einstein was snuggled up against her. She had no idea what time it was but felt as if an arrow had been driven through her heart; Hawk was dead. Someone had killed him. The doorbell was ringing and she padded barefoot to the door. Detective Thompson stood on the back porch with two cardboard boxes. She opened the door imagining she probably looked like a train wreck.

  “I brought these for you, ma’am. I could tell they meant a lot to you.” Thompson glanced down as Einstein pushed his way outside to do his business.

  “Oh gosh,” Lara gushed, “I overslept. And, I’ve completely forgotten my manners. Come in detective. Would you like coffee?”

  Thompson hesitated for a moment, then stepped over the threshold, “Yes, ma’am, I would like a coffee. And, I’d like to talk with you for a few minutes about Mr. Hawkins, if that’s okay.” He set the cardboard boxes and a trash bag with all of Hawk’s belongings on the floor of the kitchen. Lara motioned for him to sit at the breakfast nook and Einstein rushed back into the warmth of the kitchen. While brewing a pot of coffee, she listened to the detective’s words.

  “My superior had to go through Mr. Hawkins’ belongings to make sure we weren’t giving you any evidence related to the homicide investigation. I hope you understand. While we combed through the items, we found nothing that seemed connected to the case. I was wondering if you knew anything about the young lady Mr. Hawkins was with…anything at all.”

  Lara ran her hand through her tousled hair. “She was a troubled woman. Don’t ask me how I know that, it was instinct mostly. I didn’t like her demeanor. I only met her a handful of times. She worked at the university where my husband teaches. My husband is out of the country on business.”

  Detective Thompson’s eyes were sharp and assessing. His warm hand rested on hers momentarily on the table in a gesture of compassion. “I’ll be off. If you think of anything else, please call me.” He handed her a card, walked through the door and was gone.

  She glanced at the two cardboard boxes and a half-filled trash bag on the floor and realized that represented the sum total of Hawk’s personal belongings. Curling up in a ball of despair at the breakfast nook, she wept for what seemed like an hour. She began to wonder if she would ever fully process the pain of Hawk’s death.

  ~ Ben ~ (in Latakia)

  The lovely coastal city was bustling with people of many ethnicities on the warm clear November evening. Latakia was a popular vacation spot for the surrounding countries. The building jutted out over the ocean on a pier allowing a lovely view of the Mediterranean Sea. But the best attribute of the location was its distance from other buildings and residences. The locale was perfect. The structure was unique in that it was filled with nooks and crannies beneath for the SEAL team to strategically plant charges once night fell. Then they waited motionless for the opportunity to take out the armed guards.

  After sunset Ben and his men were ready to play their roles. Rashida was waiting in the back room cloistered away for her unveiling. The sixteen targets were dropped at the door by heavily armored vehicles and their bodyguards moved the vehicles to the parking lot and then took their place outside forming a wall of AK’s. Ben surmised they were formidable but the team would remove them noiselessly and with great precision after the targets were inside the building.

  Ben set his stop-watch. The taking of the guards was swift and done as soon as darkness was complete. The outside lights malfunctioned, thanks to Nate O’Neal, and the guards were murdered silently and hidden beneath the pier in a large dumpster. The rats were on them as soon as the team took their place above donning the exact same uniforms.

  Some of the men eyed Ben and he felt comfortable enough in the burka to turn away feigning shyness and modesty. The men were not interested in him once they laid eyes upon the beautiful young prostitutes waiting for their arrival. They were ushered to the lounge area surrounding the dance floor.

  On the dance floor a young woman slithered on a stripper pole. She was a regular and a warm-up for the main attraction. The sixteen patrons took their seats and started smoking the hookah. Drinks were served. Young prostitutes sat with the men and caressed their bodies beneath their robes. Occasionally, one man would yell to another asking if he could trade with him. The blue or green-eyed women were highly desirable and they fought over them in a good-natured way. The prostitutes were compliant.

  Finally, the moment arrived for Nate to introduce the new talent, Anisa. In Farci, with great fanfare he explained her act would be risqué and filled with forbidden pleasures. Whetting the appetite for her performance, Nate explained there would be a surprise in the act and the men were to remain seated because it was important for Anisa’s safety. He went so far as to tell them that most men become so aroused by her act, they want to touch her and that was not allowed.

  Rashida arrived right on cue and began her seductive dance while Nate controlled the lighting and music. He also had earlier instructed everyone except the prostitutes to leave the building due to a problem with the electrical system. The SEAL team had the kitchen cleared quietly in a matter of minutes. And the rest of the building was empty except for the terrorists, Rashida, Nate and Ben. The wild card in the scenario was the prostitutes. But Ben had a plan for them, too.

  As Rashida’s dance became less traditional and much more erotic, the music changed and the lighting dimmed. Ben wheeled out a mannequin out to the performance area, but this was no ordinary mannequin. This was a robotic device that looked exactly like a human being. Programmed to move as a living human being. Ben entered the code remotely. Then he wheeled the seemingly beautiful young woman on a padded lounger to the center of the floor.

  The android was the image of a strikingly beautiful woman, and the movements mimicked exactly those of a female writing in ecstasy. Rashida was now touching the android sexually and the sounds emanating from the two were dramatic. As the robotic beauty spread her legs, Rashida placed her hands on the thighs and the music changed. This was the cue for the prostitutes to make an excuse to go to the bathroom.

  The men were enthralled with Rashida’s performance and barely noticed the prostitutes’ absence. They were high on hashish and so captivated with the scene, they were pleasuring themselves. Every one of them were mesmerized by the two women making love, doing forbidden things. The scene riveted their attention long enough.

  Within sixty seconds the room went black. However, the music continued. The men in the audience momentarily thought this was part of the act. Rashida, Ben, Nate and the prostitutes were outside of the building and inside the armored van the SEAL team had waiting.

  As they pulled away from the club all of the doors of the building were locked remotely by Ben. Sixty seconds later the ground beneath the van Ben was riding in rumbled. It had the feel of a significant
earthquake. The beautiful android, filled with C4 exploded and the building imploded upon itself. Simultaneously, the charges set beneath the pier ignited. Projectiles of steel, glass and wood flew in all directions. Instantly the lights in the area went black. The armored vehicle sped away toward its destination ~ the safe-house in Syria.

  In the blackness of night, the van dropped off the prostitutes and handed them neatly wrapped stacks of Syrian pounds. The van continued on to a seemingly normal home in the city of Aleppo, yet beneath was a bunker with an elaborate escape tunnel. Slipping silently into the place, the van pulled away and was parked out of sight. Ben was breathing a sigh of relief, almost. But knew the upcoming events could be fraught with hazards. The men ate and slept for a few hours.

  At 6:00 AM, Ben received the text he was waiting for. Simply the number four. Ben donned his burka along with Nate and they walked the streets of Aleppo going into an alley that led to the back door of a small café. Two women with burkas cooking in the kitchen left and Ben and Nate replaced them for fifteen minutes. The human intelligence females entwined in the populace had gauged them correctly. They’d sell these bastards out for very little cash, more likely for revenge.

  The focus was on four terrorists who ate breakfast at the café at the same time every week. They even ordered the same meals. Ben and Nate put droplets of Cyanide into the men’s tea and into their food. As expected, the waiter came to the kitchen and brought the meals out to the targets’ table. Once these bastards ingested the rapidly acting poison, they’d be dead within a matter of fifteen minutes. Ben and Nate nodded to the women waiting in the alley. They handed them each a batch of Syrian pounds with gloved hands and walked down the street. Three blocks away the van pulled to the curb and picked them up.