Forever Freed

by Kathleen Brooks

  Using intelligence gathered by the FBI, they had foiled the attacks planned in Los Angeles and found that terror cell within a week. The threat had originated right here in the middle of the Middle East with a group of men Jackson and his team were going to interrogate.

  “Our targets are in this house,” Jackson told the darkened room as the slides of the evidence and the targets played on the television they had set up.

  “The Rangers will go in with FBI watching our six,” explained Jimmy, the head of the Ranger team who stood opposite Jackson. Jimmy and his team had been over there for six months and knowing that made Jackson force his exhaustion into submission.

  “It is crucial we preserve as much evidence as possible. The weapons, computers, cell phones, and especially the targets themselves,” Jackson said, his Southern voice deep and serious as he lectured the team. “No one touches any equipment. My men will take possession of any evidence and secure the chain of custody so that it can be used at the trial of the men who were caught in LA before they could kill thousands.”

  “Are there any questions?” Jimmy asked as the lights came back on. “No, then let’s roll.”

  * * *

  “I’m hotter than a polar bear in a sauna,” Lucas Sharpe complained to Jackson and Talon Bainbridge.

  The three of them made up the command of the FBI HRT’s Whiskey Team. Jackson had tried to get them renamed the Bourbon Team since they were based out of Louisville, Kentucky. The FBI HRT was headquartered in Quantico, Virginia, with three tactical units: Red, Blue, and Gold. However, the FBI was trying something new with its one hundred thirty-seven HRT agents. There were three teams of seven stationed across the country so that they could respond to emergencies faster while assessing if a secondary team from Quantico was needed. The experiment had been to appease politicians who said it took too long for a flight from Quantico to get to an active site elsewhere in the country. Jackson and his team had been sent to Louisville. Another team was in Kansas and a third in California. Quantico had thought the specialized groups would fail. They had been wrong.

  What had started as an experiment to have HRT at the ready for these regions had instead created three groups of highly specialized, highly versatile teams. Jackson and his team did everything from hostage rescue, counterterrorism, mobile assaults, extreme weather operations, and military missions to high-risk searches, raids, arrests, and manhunts. They were an on-call special weapons and tactics unit for their whole region. And they were good. They lost people sometimes, but they had a ninety-three percent success rate. They trained monthly at the training center in Keeneston where Jackson’s Special Forces uncles and family friends taught. Then there was the regular training with the SEALs and at the FBI grounds in Quantico. They were always training and always at the ready. Over the past two years, Whiskey group had developed a reputation as the best of the best.

  And what a group they were. Jackson was from the small town of Keeneston, Kentucky, just an hour and half from Louisville. Talon, the second in command, was half Australian and half American. And then Lucas . . . there were no words for Lucas. He was from northern Alaska and his best friend back home seemed to be a polar bear named Bertha. Agents Worski, Garcia, Drummel, and Ronson filled out the team.

  The team rode in the back of the military vehicle together, keeping things light as they traveled to their target. The soldiers had given them questioning looks when they’d first arrived—especially Lucas in a polar bear plunge tank top. But Whiskey Team had proven themselves. Now the soldiers up front listened as Lucas asked about the wedding of the century back in Keeneston.

  “So, has she delayed the wedding again?” Lucas asked.

  “Wait, is this your cousin who is a state representative’s executive assistant or your cousin in South Carolina?” Jimmy asked, trying to remember all the stories that had been shared over the past days.

  “Way too many cousins to keep straight,” David, the driver, laughed.

  “This is Aniyah, the executive assistant,” Jackson told them.

  “Why did she delay the wedding this time?” Talon asked.

  Jackson shook his head. “It’s sad. I think she’s struggling for not having her family around. She keeps changing the wedding plans when what she really wants is her family.”

  “Where are they?” Jimmy hollered over the sound of the transport’s engine.

  “Passed away not that many years ago. But Aniyah told my cousin Riley, who she works with, that she had these great memories of being a little girl in her grandma’s kitchen with her aunt and cousin. Then her mom and dad moved and she doesn’t remember ever seeing them again. My Uncle Cy is working to find them and any other relatives Aniyah might have,” Jackson told them.

  “When’s the new wedding date?” Lucas asked.

  “And are we invited?” Jimmy joked.

  “Hell yeah you are. After what we’ve gone through finding these guys, you’re family,” Jackson yelled. “DeAndre, the groom, is working with my uncles and cousins. As much as possible has already been ordered for the wedding and when things fall into place with the relative search, I think DeAndre will have the wedding within the week.”

  David laughed and shook his head. “That will either be the most romantic thing or be totally fubar. Wish we could see it. We were supposed to be here for three months. We’re on month six now with no end in sight. I know there have to be other units to relieve us, but I think our commander is on the general’s bad side. We have a tendency to push our orders when we think we can save more people. Not something the general approves of.”

  “Here we go,” Jimmy said and the talking instantly stopped. Weapons were checked, cameras were turned on, and then they were slipping silently through the night in the shadows.

  * * *

  David was yelling in Arabic. Shots were fired. Jackson didn’t blink. He and his team immediately fell into formation as they entered the room. A young girl no more than five years old was huddled in the corner. A large scarf hid her hair and half her face from the men.

  Jackson scanned the room. Total of six men. Two already dead. Jackson saw it happen before the man even moved. The man identified as the ringleader, Hassan, looked at the girl screaming nearby. He went to move toward her and Jackson fired. He didn’t regret it. He didn’t second guess it. He fired.

  The bullet slammed into Hassan’s chest, close to his shoulder. He’d probably have a punctured lung, but it would be something he could survive. The force of the bullet sent him flying backward, his hand gripping the little girl’s shirt. As he flew back, the child was dragged with him.

  The firefight raged on and Jackson ran low across the room through the bullets whizzing by. He felt one slam into his back. The force of the bullet being stopped by the Kevlar sent him tripping forward. The breath was pushed from his body, but he didn’t stop. He dove for the girl.

  The little girl’s shrieks could be heard over the yelling and the guns firing. The ringleader still had a grip on her as he aimed a handgun at Jackson.

  “Let the child go,” Jackson demanded.

  Hassan moved the gun to point it at the child. “Let me leave or I’ll kill her.”

  The sound of gunfire lessened and the shouts of his team grew louder as they began to take the situation in hand. “You know that’s not going to happen. But I’ll put down my gun.”

  Jackson made a show of grabbing his gun strap and slowly taking it off with his left hand. Meanwhile, his right was moving to his hip. “Since we’re talking, why don’t you tell me who else is with you? You trained them well.”

  “I know I did. The whole village is mine. They’ll be coming for you at any moment. We notified them the second we heard you breach the compound.”

  “The whole village?” Jackson asked, impressed. “Even the women? Even the children?”

  “They’ll all die for me. For the cause. If it means they take one American life, they’ll celebrate that death for eternity.”

  “I gues
s we’ll find out,” Jackson said casually as his hand closed around the hilt of his knife, “when they get here.”

  The man coughed, his breathing now nothing more than wheezing as blood filled his lung. Jackson could wait him out and let him die. It wouldn’t take more than a couple minutes. But that wasn’t his mission. In one motion he pulled the knife and sent it flying. It stuck in the man’s hand, forcing him to drop the gun.

  Jackson was on him in a second. He made sure the girl was safe, kicked the gun toward his team, and yanked the knife free. “Shh,” he said, holding the girl gently against his Kevlar vest before yelling, “Medic!”

  The fight had felt like it had lasted for hours but when Jackson looked at his watch, it had been four minutes from the time they breached the house to the time everyone was handcuffed. The medic was patching up Hassan, a helicopter had been called, and Lucas and Talon were taking video evidence of every cell phone and computer while the rest of the team tagged and bagged the evidence. They made sure to use the thumbprint of the captured or killed men to unlock devices before videoing. The only changes they made to the phones were to make the devices easily accessible.

  “Who’s the kid?” Jimmy, asked coming up to them. Jackson had moved the girl to the next room to get her away from the reminder of what had just happened. There was a chance her father laid dead in there.

  The girl clung to Jackson’s neck as she kept her scarf-covered head buried in his neck. “I don’t know. She hasn’t said anything yet. She’s still scared.” Jackson could feel her little body trembling.

  “She’s a dirty little thing, isn’t she? What do you expect when we’re on a dirt floor in the middle of the desert?” Jimmy’s eyes narrowed as he cocked his head looking at the girl closely. “Hey, David,” he called out to the one person in the group who spoke Arabic. “Ask her how old she is.”

  David did and the little girl just buried her head deeper into Jackson’s neck as she held up one hand with all five fingers spread open.

  “Want to see a polar bear?” Lucas asked, coming up to talk to the girl in a soothing, happy voice as David translated.

  The girl lifted her head, but tightened her grip on Jackson’s clothes. Lucas held up a picture from his phone of him rubbing the tummy of a massive polar bear. Everyone in the group stared in shock.

  “That’s my Bertha. She was in a good mood that day.” Lucas told her. “See her fur? Do you like it?”

  The girl nodded before reaching up and pulling back her scarf. “It’s blonde like mine.”

  Jackson’s eyes shot to Lucas, David, and Jimmy’s. The little girl spoke in perfect English and indeed her hair was blonde. Jackson licked his thumb and rubbed it over her cheek, exposing pale, lightly freckled skin. “You have lovely hair. What’s your name, sweetie? Or should we call you Bertha?” Jackson smiled and the little girl giggled.

  She shook her head and her blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders. “No, that’s the bear’s name, silly.”

  Jackson laughed as he lifted her up high into the air. “Now you’re as big as a bear.” She giggled again and he lowered her to where she sat on his hip, her arms around his neck. “So, your name is not Bertha. Then what’s your name? I bet it’s something pretty.”

  The girl wrinkled her nose as if something smelled bad. “I’m named after my great-grandmother.”

  “Your name is Great-Grandma?” Jackson asked with overdone shock.

  The girl giggled again. “No, silly” she laughed. “It’s Gladys.”

  Jackson’s smile froze as his mind went a hundred miles per hour. Girl, five years old, American . . . Gladys. “Sweetie, are you from Los Angeles?”

  The girl bobbed her head. “Can I go home now? I want my mommy.”

  “I bet you do, sweetie. How did you get here from Los Angeles?” Jackson asked as he grabbed Lucas’s cell phone and typed the name GLADYS THORN on it before handing it back. Lucas’s jovial smile faded into a thin line as he began working feverishly on his phone.

  “My daddy brought me here a couple days ago.”

  “And where is your daddy now?” Jackson asked as Jimmy and David moved to look over Lucas’s shoulder. Jimmy’s eyes widened as he suddenly looked from the screen up at the little girl.

  “He has a meeting with . . .” Gladys wrinkled her nose up again and Jackson could see her thinking. “I don’t know his name, but I was mad I couldn’t go because he lives in a palace like Prince Charming and I’ve been stuck here in the dirty house all day. But Daddy said I had to wait here with his friends.” Gladys leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I don’t like Daddy’s friends. They’re bad men. They want to hurt people.”

  Jackson hugged the girl to him. “Well, don’t you worry. You won’t have to ever see those bad men again. I’ll protect you. Do you trust me to do that?” Gladys looked him in the eyes and Jackson felt as if the five-year-old were looking into his soul before she slowly nodded her head.

  “Who did they want to hurt? If you tell me, I can protect them too.”

  She shook her head and tears filled her eyes. “My mommy. I want my mommy!”

  “Shh,” Jackson murmured as he began to slowly rock side to side. “Do they want to hurt your mommy?”

  Her head bobbed as big fat tears fell down her dirt-covered cheeks. “I heard my daddy telling them where they can find her. Then the bad man who tried to hurt me called someone. I didn’t understand it except for Mommy’s name and the hotel we go to for Sunday pancakes.”

  “Sweetie, what does your mom do for a living?” Jackson asked, even though he already knew who she was.

  Gladys nodded. “She’s the manor.”

  Jimmy’s forehead wrinkled in confusion, but Jackson had plenty of experience with little kids since he had a million cousins. “I think you pronounce it mayor. Is that right?”

  Gladys smiled. “Uh huh, mayor. Do you know my mommy?”

  “I’ve never met Mayor Thorn, but I will when I take you to her. Now, I want you to meet Mr. Talon. He’s from Australia. That’s all the way across the world from America. Do you know that he grew up with kangaroos and koala bears?”

  David turned and hurried into the other room to grab Talon. Talon came back a minute later with a big smile on and laid on the accent. “Aren’t you a cute little joey? Do you know that’s what you call baby kangaroos?”

  Talon took Gladys to the other side of the room as Jimmy, Lucas, and Jackson rushed back to where the prisoners were. Jackson practically shoved the medic aside as he grabbed Hassan.

  “He’s unconscious. Helo is arriving in three minutes. I need to get him outside,” the medic told them.

  Jackson wanted to punch someone. “Go and, Garcia, go with him. I want to know everything he knows about the LA attacks and specifically a potential attack on Mayor Thorn. I’ll fill you in on the details when I get them,” he ordered as two of Jimmy’s men carried Hassan out of the room with Garcia. “There’s a terrorist plot to kill the mayor of Los Angeles and her own husband is behind it. That’s what you all heard, too, right?”

  “Clear as day,” Jimmy answered.

  “There’s a gala tomorrow night at some swanky downtown hotel. That has to be the target,” Lucas told them.

  “Why would the husband want to kill his wife and hundreds of innocent people?” Jackson asked.

  “Try thousands of people. Our commander is looking into it,” Lucas told him.

  “We need to find the father,” Jackson said.

  They heard the helicopter landing.

  “Transport is here,” Jimmy said even though Jackson had heard it in his coms as well.

  “Worski, go with the men to load the equipment. Don’t leave it until it’s all been catalogued. Drummel and Ronson, go with the prisoners. Bainbridge, take Gladys back to camp.”

  “Don’t leave me,” Gladys cried as she reached out for Jackson. Jackson strode across the room and hugged her as Talon held her.

  “Mr. Talon will take great care of you. You trust me
to protect you, and I trust Mr. Talon to do it when I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you do it?” Gladys asked as she sniffled. A strand of her blonde hair fell in her face and Jackson reached up to tuck it behind her ear.

  “Because I am going to do what I can to protect your mommy. I’ll be back at the base before you even know I’m gone. Don’t tell Mr. Talon that I told you, but he loves princess movies. I bet he’ll watch one with you while you wait for me.”

  “You’ll come back?” Gladys finally asked.

  “I promise. Then I will take you to your mommy. Deal?” Jackson held out his hand and the little girl slowly reached out and shook it before Talon took her away.

  “What are we going to do?” Lucas asked.

  “We’re going to wait here for her father to come back.”

  4

  Jackson sat in the chair that Hassan, the terrorist cell leader, had been sitting in no less than one hour before. Forces had been mobilized quickly and drones were listening to the conversation between Gladys’s father and the president of the small Middle Eastern country they were in—a president and country that were supposedly an ally of peace.

  Initial reports were that Mr. Thorn didn’t like not being in the spotlight. He’d wanted to run for office, but his wife had the political background. She’d been a prosecutor, sat on councils that had led to major initiatives in the city for improved education and reduced crime. Mr. Thorn was flashy and the cameras loved him. He was a sports reporter and loved to share his opinion on social media. He thought the party leaders had come to their house one night to ask him to run for mayor. Instead, they’d asked his wife and told Mr. Thorn to stick to sports.