by Leigh Barker
“Which Hellfires?” Then he got it. “Yeah. One killed my friend.” He squinted at Teddy. “Two fired at SecNav.”
“And?”
“One missing. They assumed it was on the boat with you.”
“I wasn’t on the boat. They assumed wrong.”
“I know that.” Ethan looked around. “It’s here.”
Teddy nodded.
“Then that’s why you switched on your cell, to get me here.”
Teddy pointed at the trailer.
“Where’s the detonator?” Ethan asked, his hand closing on the butt of his Sig.
“You won’t need that,” Teddy said, laying the radio detonator on the table.
“What’s your play, Teddy?”
“You’re right, I brought you here to kill you, but we were friends. That counts for something.”
“Yeah, we were. Before you started killing good people. One of them my friend. Another marine.”
“I didn’t want that. It was beyond my control.”
“As Eli’s death was beyond mine.”
“Yes, I suppose I know that.”
“Then what is this about?” Ethan pointed at the detonator. “Put that away and come back with me. You were… undone by your son’s death. That’ll count for something.”
Teddy shook his head. “I’m staying here.” He waited a moment, looking at Ethan’s hand still on his gun. “Are you going to try to take me with you?”
“If I was going to take you, I wouldn’t need to try.” Ethan nodded towards the detonator. “You could have that in your hand, it wouldn’t matter.”
“I know. Headshot in the right place, right?”
“Right.”
“But you’re not going to do either, are you?”
“No. Like you said, we were friends. And I should’ve driven the Humvee that day instead of Eli.”
“Will you tell them where I am?”
“No, this is your version of hell. I guess that’s enough for Ben. I’ve lost enough friends.”
Ethan got up and looked down at his stupid boots then at the steep hill leading back up to the dirt bike. “You change your mind about coming home, call me. I’ll stand up for you at your trial.”
“Obliged.”
Ethan walked away, then limped up the hill.
Teddy was a great analyst and must have known what the blast radius of a Hellfire was, because he waited for Ethan to cover two hundred yards before he detonated it.
The Orpheus Directive
Lone Wolf
Ethan Gill brushed as much dust off his old woolen overcoat as he could reach without drawing attention to it, and looked up slowly to see the PA watching him with a practiced blank expression. He recognised her from the last time he’d been invited to the Pentagon by SecNav. She didn’t show any recognition, but she remembered him, he knew it.
SecNav opened his office door, crooked a finger, and Ethan crossed the small reception area and followed him in, after giving the PA a friendly wink. She scowled at him, but Hollywood wouldn’t be calling her any time soon. He’d seen the glint in her eye. And truth be told, she was cute, for somebody who looked like she could freeze steam if she chose to.
“That job your squad did down in Texas,” SecNav said, pointing at one of the chairs by his huge desk.
“The scumbags who killed the kids?”
SecNav frowned. Did people really say scumbags? Something to ask later. He sat in his leather chair and leaned back. He looked tired, but he was a government employee, so that came with the territory.
“Yes, the…scumbags. Good job.”
Ethan shrugged but said nothing. Five rapists dead didn’t even begin to even the score. The two women they’d raped and killed had been on their first liberty from their first ship. So, not even close to even.
“You think you can manage another mission?” SecNav leaned his elbows on his desk.
Ethan waited for a moment, but that was all. “Could maybe do with a vacation and a massage first, but I’m probably good for another mission. One more. Maybe.”
SecNav nodded. “That’s what I thought. None of us getting any younger.”
Ethan let that go. Bouncing SecNav’s head off his desk a few times would probably be frowned on. By the burly men who’d come to drag his ass off to Leavenworth.
“Nice trip to the sunshine,” SecNav said, struggling to hide his smile. “Good for the joints, I hear.”
“Iraq?” Ethan said.
“Closer to home.” SecNav left it for a beat. “Bolivia.”
Great.
“Beautiful country,” Ethan said.
“Was. Now it’s infested with all manner of vermin.”
“I hear that.” Ethan brushed a patch of dust off his sleeve.
SecNav watched him steadily. “You remember you’re back on active duty, right?”
“I do, sir,” Ethan said, continuing his hopeless effort to rejuvenate his moth-eaten coat. “Hence the sir bit. Sir.”
SecNav laughed a short snorting laugh he cut off quickly so as not to encourage the man. “Your uniform at the cleaners?”
“Thought I’d go incognito.”
“Disguised as a tramp, you mean?”
“This is my best coat, sir.”
“Only coat, I’d guess.”
Ethan smiled. “Uniform seems to have shrunk. I’m having it let out a bit.”
“Know the feeling.”
“None of us are getting any younger,” Ethan said, and raised an eyebrow.
“Quite.” SecNav sat up in his chair, a signal that it was back to business. “I want you to scoot down to Bolivia and pick something up for me.”
Ethan resisted the temptation to suggest what the something might be. He waited.
“Rafael Milaris.” SecNav raised a hand. “Or should I say Colonel Rafael Milaris.”
“Another colonel,” Ethan said, and shook his head once. “They do like their military titles.”
“They do. This one’s a piece of…work. Even for a murdering drug lord. He’s got an army, and not a small one. He controls the drugs east of La Paz.”
“Nice place. Been there. What do you want us to bring you?” Ethan took a breath and just said it. “I’m no assassin, if that’s what you’re thinking. Sir.”
“Never crossed my mind.” He gave Ethan a quick smile. “We have people for that kind of thing. No, not an assassination. I want you to pick up a list.”
“Sounds easy enough. What about the DEA?”
SecNav waited.
“Won’t they be pissed with me stomping all over their jurisdiction?”
“Don’t tell them.”
“Copy that. But we’ve…you’ve got your own special forces, all full of vim and vigor.”
“And that’s just the problem.” He saw Ethan waiting. “Send a SEAL team down there and they might as well be wearing Ol’ Glory over their shoulders.”
“They look like what they are.” Ethan let it hang there for a moment. “And we don’t.”
SecNav pointed at Ethan’s old blue overcoat that even a street bum would throw in the trash.
Ethan saw more dust on his sleeve, but let it be. “Right.” He looked up. “This list?”
“Well, database would be a better description.”
“For you maybe. Don’t do technology.”
“Others might believe that, Top, but we know better. Right?”
Ethan shrugged.
“The database is on his computer.”
“Guessed that much. You want us to snag his computer?”
“No. I want you to get the data and get out without him knowing; otherwise the information will be useless. He’ll just change everything.”
“And everything being his shipping pipelines?”
“That and his distribution network, who’s on his payroll in high places, where his money is.” SecNav shrugged. “That kinda thing.”
“DEA stuff.”
“DEA stuff,” SecNav said. “I’ll play nice
and share.”
Ethan chuckled.
“What? You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you’ll share what you choose.” Ethan raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t ask me, I don’t do politics.”
“Me neither,” SecNav said, without a hint of irony.
“Any chance NCIS might get involved?”
SecNav frowned as he thought it through, then nodded slowly. “Agent Kelsey Lyle, by any chance?”
“She’d do if nobody else was available.”
“I’m afraid not, Ethan. This is strictly a need to know. I’ve arranged for another marine to join your team.”
“Anybody I know?” Ethan said, hiding his annoyance at not being consulted.
“A techy. You’ll need one.”
“Copy that,” Ethan said, and emphasized it with a shrug of resignation.
“Rachel has everything you need.” SecNav picked up his pen. The meeting was over.
Rachel held up an attaché case without looking up. “Sign this.” She paired the case with an A5 form. “And this.” It was joined by another form.
Ethan took the case and signed the forms, then looked at the case’s contents. “Anything of value in here?”
“Master Sergeant, everything I give you is of value.”
He met her narrowed stare. He’d been right, she was cute. He didn’t have time.
She let him get almost to the elevator door. “Everything is to be handled with special care. Returned scratch free. Shining like new.”
He saluted and stepped into the elevator.
As he rode down to the ground floor, he looked in the case again. Maps, plans, orders, and authorization to requisition anything he wanted from anybody in the navy. But nothing that would scratch, nothing shiny. He looked up as the chime told him the elevator had reached its destination. Then he smiled. Rachel was quoting from a Bond movie, from the guy who provided all the gimmicks. What was his name? Q the quartermaster. The smile stayed. He liked the fierce woman’s sense of fun.
“Bolivia?” Jerry Winter said, and put down his coffee. “Have you ever been to Bolivia, Top?”
“Yeah, lots of times,” Ethan said, lying a little for the sake of credibility.
“Define lots,” Winter said.
Ethan made a show of counting them off on his fingers, caught Chuck’s look and smiled. “Okay, twice.” He saw the look again. “And one of those was a transfer.”
“The cartels down there don’t welcome US marines with open arms,” Winter said.
“Who does?” Chuck Petty said.
“True.”
“Locals who need our help,” Loco Mendez said, and continued trying to see into his beer bottle without risking tipping it up. “Least until they turn on us and shoot us in the ass.” He grinned. “Hey, you know Bolivia is—”
“Where Butch and Sundance got killed,” Winter and Chuck said together in a mock-tired tone.
“Okay, listen up,” Chuck said. “Top’s got orders, so we’ve got orders. Anybody who doesn’t want to come say so now.”
They looked at each other; then they all looked at Loco, who gave up on his bottle and tipped it up to see if there was any left. “Shit!” He brushed the beer off his shirt.
“Outstanding,” Ethan said, and sighed.
“So we’re all volunteering to go on a little trip?” Chuck said, still watching Loco.
“Yeah, Gunny, count me in,” Loco said, and gave him a big grin. “Wouldn’t let me stay behind anyway, would you, Gunny?”
“Sure,” Smokey said, punching Loco on the shoulder. “After he shot you for desertion.”
“Don’t get shot for deserting now. What ya think? This is WWI?”
“Loco’s right,” Chuck said. “I couldn’t shoot him, being a sergeant and everything. You’d have to do it.”
Smokey stood up. “Well, if that’s an order, I guess I’ve got to obey it.” He pulled his Sig from his belt holster and made a show of looking for the safety.
“There’s no safety,” Winter said. “You can just shoot him whenever you like.”
“Cool,” Smokey said.
“I’m coming with, for chrissakes,” Loco said, waving at Smokey to put the thing away.
“When you kids have all finished,” Ethan said, “we’ll do military stuff.”
“Got any more beer, Top?” Loco said, holding up his now empty bottle.
“Yeah.” He let Loco jump to his feet like an excited puppy. “We’ll all have a beer. When we’re done.”
Loco pouted for a second, then joined Ethan at the side of his bed that was doubling as a chart table. “What we waiting for, then?”
“The rest of the squad,” Ethan said, and tipped out more maps from the attaché case.
Nobody spoke; they just looked at each other.
“We’re all here, Top,” Loco said. It had to be Loco.
“We’re two men down,” Ethan said.
“Yeah, sure,” Winter said. “Bailey committed suicide by cop—”
“And Ben got blown to hell by the missile,” Chuck said.
“So we’re light,” Ethan said, without looking up from the map he was studying.
“Top, we’re too tight a squad to try to shoehorn a replacement in,” Loco said.
“There’s always replacements in war,” Winter said.
“We’re not at war,” Loco said.
“Says who?” Chuck said.
“But he’s got a point,” Smokey said, backing up his amigo. “We’re at the door, ready to jump. No time to train some rookie up.”
Before Ethan could answer, there was a quiet knock at the door and he nodded at Loco to go answer it.
Loco opened the door a few inches and looked out. And froze. He recovered and looked back over his shoulder. “It’s a girl.”
“You gonna let her in?” Smokey said, checking himself in the mirror over the dresser.
“Not that sort of girl,” Loco said, still not moving.
“Loco,” Ethan said quietly.
Loco pulled the door wide open and waved the visitor in.
“You Petty Officer Andrea Shea?”
She stepped into the room and stood to attention. “I am.”
Ethan waved her hand down. “Save that stuff for the brass. Welcome aboard. You can lose the overcoat, you’ll be staying a while.”
“Thank you, Top.” She looked around quickly.
She took off her navy blue overcoat, turned and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. The marines did what they were supposed to and looked her over while her back was turned.
She was petite, five-two, five-three tops, had military-approved short hair in a close pixie cut, and wore a dress-blue jacket, buttoned and hugging a slim and not over-curvy figure. Her regulation blue skirt ended just below her knees. And she had on sensible shoes.
She was okay, not a head-turner. Looked like somebody’s sister, a little plain, but competent. In a firefight they’d all prefer that to stunning and useless.
The thing they all noticed right off was she didn’t make eye contact with anyone. That was unusual. The women marines they’d met would have checked them out as openly as they were checking her.
“Andrea is a techy,” Ethan said, with a quick glance at her.
“Information technology specialist,” she said quietly.
“That’s what I said.” Ethan gave her a smile to ease her in. “These are the elite troops.” He pointed at the men in jeans and T-shirts, lounging around his hotel room. “The angry-looking guy with the baby blues is Chuck Petty, he’s our gunny. That’s Jerry Winter with the hair to match his name. That one looking like a NFL fullback is Smokey Vernon, he’s the spotter for our sniper, Loco Mendez. Say hello, Loco.”
“Hello, Loco.”
Ethan shook his head. “You’ll get used to it.”
“No, you won’t,” Winter said.
“Gather round,” Ethan said, before it went where it usually did from here.
The techy was
on board. Nobody gave it another thought as she joined them at the side of Ethan’s bed and looked at the papers and maps spread out on the crisp cover.
He glanced at the girl. “You been briefed on the mission, Andrea?”
“I have, Top.” She looked down. “Friends call me Andie.”
“Then that’s what we’ll call you,” Loco said, and raised his hand in preparation for a back slap. Quickly aborted.
“Good,” Ethan said, exchanging a quick look with Chuck. “Let’s get to it.”
Chuck pulled a map over and examined it closely.
“Colonel Rafael Milaris has a place three hundred miles south-east of La Paz,” Ethan said.
“That’s nothing but rainforest and mountains,” Chuck said, tapping the map.
“What were you expecting, five-star hotels and spas?”
“How do you want to play this, Top?” Winter said.
“Usual,” Ethan said. “Loco will be overwatch and Smokey will spot for him. You and Gunny will run interference, and I’ll go with Andie and get the data. Walk in the park.”
“Which park would that be?” Loco said. “Central Park on Saturday night?”
“I’d rather take this gig,” Ethan said, and pulled the only chair in the room closer to the bed. “Do your thing, Gunny. Let’s all come back from this one.”
“Copy that,” Gunny said, and waved the others closer.
“I’m telling you now, Director,” SecNav said, and nodded at the couch near the window.
“I hope you have a damned good reason for sending a team to stamp all over CIA jurisdiction,” the director said, taking his seat.
“I do.” SecNav lifted a bottle of single malt off the dresser and glanced at his watch. “Sun’s over the yardarm somewhere. Join me, Richard?”
“It’s early,” the director said, then raised his hand and measured an inch with his fingers. “Easy on the branch water.”
“I have intelligence that Milaris has committed all his operation to the demon electronic media.”
“Maybe he hit his head. Or got paranoid.” The director took the offered scotch.
“Could be. Could be he’s just been sampling his own product.” SecNav clinked his lead-crystal glass against the director’s. “The reason Milaris put all his eggs in one basket, we’ll get to. Right now we have a fleeting opportunity to grab everything we need to bring him down. And all of his cohorts in South America and nearer home.”