by CW Browning
“Maybe it's the water, then,” Blake said. “Or maybe I just don't like the heat.”
“None of us like the heat,” Michael grunted. “Quit your bitching.”
“You think Curtis is really being held in those hills?” Blake asked after a moment.
“Doesn't matter what I think. JSOC thinks it.”
“Yeah.” Blake sighed. “I still don't get why he just wandered off-base, unarmed.”
“No one does.” Michael scanned the opposite hills, looking for any signs of life. “Blackfoot thinks he cracked.”
“It's possible,” Blake said after another moment of silence. “Convoy's moving closer.
Michael was silent, scanning the hills on the other side of the valley with his scope. The last vestiges of sun were fading fast and darkness was setting into the valley. The convoy would enter the valley just seconds before the Navy SEAL team arrived. A team of Rangers had already secured the border of the perimeter in the lower mountains, and another team had gone up ahead of them two days before they arrived to sweep the mountains above. Everything was on point and moving like clockwork. Like Jones said, it was going to be a walk in the park.
“Convoy's entering the perimeter,” Jones murmured. “Thirty seconds starts now.”
“Check,” Michael said.
“Check,” Blake repeated.
Michael studied the dense trees on the mountainside opposite, his eye glued to his scope, looking for movement. He scanned slowly to the right, searching for any sign of life. There was nothing.
“You see anything?” he asked Blake.
“Nothing.”
Michael continued scanning the mountains across from them, calmly waiting for someone to show themselves.
“I really wish we had the ISR drone support we were expecting,” he muttered.
“Can’t control the weather,” Blake replied. “That sandstorm has them grounded. At least they did a sweep yesterday.”
“That’s not helping us now,” Michael retorted.
“Here come the SEALs,” Jones interrupted. “The Apaches will be right behind them to secure the outer cordon. It's time.”
Michael glanced up as black specs appeared on the horizon, moving in fast.
“Helos are coming in,” he said. “Anything yet?”
“Nothing,” Blake replied. “I got nothing.”
“They've got to be there!” Michael snapped. “Murphy?”
“I don't have movement,” Murphy answered. “Repeat, nothing. No movement.”
“They're staying out of sight,” Jones said, watching the helicopters coming in fast and low behind the convoy. “What are they doing?”
The valley below them suddenly exploded with a burst of light that seemed all the brighter for the suddenness with which it appeared. Splicing through the darkness, it was followed a second later by the sound of an explosion, muffled by distance.
“Shit!” Blake exclaimed as Michael stared at the convoy.
The lead truck was rolled over onto its side, engulfed in flames.
“Oh, this isn't good,” Jones announced, scanning the valley with his binoculars. “Looks like an IED. Remaining convoy is scattering.”
Michael returned his attention to the opposite trees, searching for the insurgents he now knew without a doubt were there.
“What do you think?” Blake asked, breaking his silence a moment later.
“They're there,” he said shortly. “That IED wasn't there yesterday. ISR would have caught it.” Michael glanced at his watch and looked up at the black shadows in the sky, moving in fast. “They're waiting for the helos.”
They fell silent as the Mi17s bearing the SEAL team grew closer. Once the SEALs were overhead, they would be exposed as they repelled down into the opposite hills. It was the snipers job to prevent any surprise attacks from the ground as they were coming down. Pressing his lips together grimly, Michael continued to search for signs of movement. The Taliban had access to short range missiles that could blow the helicopters out of the sky before they even unloaded their cargo.
Michael knew they lost any element of surprise with the explosion of the IED. Now it was up to them to control the damage and try to make sure the SEALs made it safely to ground.
He lowered his head to his scope again and turned his attention from the helos to the opposite hills.
“Here we go,” Jones murmured. “I've got movement on the right. Here they come.”
“One down on the left,” Blake informed them.
Michael watched though the scope as the hills came alive with the drone of the helicopters coming closer. Men seemed to be growing out of the ground, moving in the trees and getting into position with their rifles. Michael ignored them for the moment, searching for the ones carrying missile launchers. Jones directed him calmly and one came into view. He adjusted his sight slightly before squeezing his trigger and the missile launcher fell to the ground as the man dropped.
“One down on the right.”
“Do you see any more launchers?” Blake whispered. “I only see guns.”
“Same.” Michael frowned as he studied the trees. “Intel said at least four missile launchers.”
“Well, where the hell are they?” Blake demanded.
Michael shook his head and was about to answer when a shot echoed behind them. Jones rolled over swiftly and scanned the hills behind them.
“AMBUSH!!!”
Chapter Two
Sorrento, Italy – Last Week
Viper unlocked the door to the apartment and disappeared inside, closing it softly behind her. The sun was just sinking over the Mediterranean, painting the coastal town in deep orange and purple. The smell of the sea permeated every corner of the picturesque town, tangy and fresh, while the sound of the seabirds calling to each other filled the air. Normally, these two powers of nature had the ability to soothe Viper, no matter the situation. Tonight, however, she barely took time to notice the breathtaking display.
They were waiting for her when she landed in Athens, en route from Damascus. She spotted them as soon as she stepped off the small commercial flight. They were the same men she saw briefly in Antalya as she passed through customs; the same men who followed her in Damascus. She managed to lose them long enough in that city to complete her mission and depart, but Viper suspected they would show up again. When she caught sight of them in Turkey, she knew she had been made.
How did they know she was there?
Shaking her head, Viper crossed the small living room of her Sorrento apartment and pulled the wooden shutters closed over the windows, blocking out the fantastic view. She had to move quickly now. Spinning around, she strode across the living room and down the short hallway to the master bedroom. Viper pulled out her phone as she went, swiping the screen. The encrypted message she sent to Charlie was short and to the point.
Shopping done. Market got busy. Apples looked bad, so I got pears instead.
Tucking the phone back into her pocket, Viper flung open the closet in the bedroom and pushed aside the clothes. Her fingers slid along the edge of a panel in the back of the wardrobe until they felt a tiny catch. Pressing it firmly, she heard a soft click and the edge of the molding popped open. Viper opened the panel, revealing a safe, and quickly entered a digital code. A second later, the safe opened and she reached in, pulling out a handful of passports. She flipped through them rapidly, selecting three different ones before putting the rest back and pulling out a large stack of euros. Closing the safe, she replaced the panel and slid the clothes back. She was just leaving the bedroom when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Viper pulled it out, glancing at the message.
Careful driving. Roads are clogged with tourists. I'll chill the wine.
Her eyes narrowed sharply and she tucked the phone back into her pocket. Charlie was warning her to stay off the main roads and head up through Switzerland to Germany. So, he already knew. Her lips twitched despite her grim mood. Of course he knew! The man knew everything.
Viper grabbed her black messenger bag from where she had dropped it inside the door and reached for the handle.
It was time to go home.
Atco Raceway, New Jersey – Present Day
John Smithe shook his head, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched the stocky man come toward him carrying yet another trophy.
“Aren't you bored with those yet?” John called.
The man just laughed.
“I never get bored with winning,” he retorted, setting the trophy down on the hood of John's 1979 Firebird. “You gave a good run yourself.”
“Not as good as you,” John replied. “You've got a gift, Dutch, but I'll catch you yet.”
“Promises, promises,” Dutch answered, his brown eyes glinting with good humor. “You're still working on this heap?”
“She's my baby. You know that,” John told him, turning to look at his car fondly. “It's a work in progress.”
“Aren't they all?” Dutch Baker said, glancing over as someone yelled his name. “At least yours is making progress. You picked up a better time this run. Keep it up and I'll start getting nervous.”
John grinned and held out a hand to his old friend.
“Your sister wants to start the photo shoot,” he said, grasping Dutch's hand. “Better not keep her waiting.”
Dutch nodded and grabbed his trophy, ringing John's hand in a death grip that made his bones crack.
“Stop by the house tonight,” he offered. “We're throwing some burgers on the grill and lighting the bonfire. Nothing crazy, but I'd love to see you there.”
“I might have plans tonight,” John told him, breathing a silent sigh of relief as Dutch released his bruised hand.
“Bring her along!” Dutch retorted, turning to leave. “Just make sure this one isn't showing nipple. Lani threatened to douse the last one in body glitter and throw her up on a pole.”
John burst out laughing.
“She would do it, too. It might be a little later, but I'll show.”
“My bonfire doesn't have a closing time, you know that!”
Dutch waved and John watched as he weaved through the crowd to where his sister Lani was waiting for him by his car. John shook his head, a grin still on his face, as he watched Dutch grab her in a bear hug, swinging her around with one beefy arm while he hefted his trophy up in the air with the other. Cameras started flashing, the photographers soaking up the family love. Dutch Baker was a local celebrity and favorite. The press loved him, the women adored him, and men aspired to be him. When Dutch won a race, the speed shops made serious cash from other racers who wanted what he had under his hood. There had been talk of him going pro, but to date, Dutch remained in the local racing scene. Undefeated, he was a legend, and a great guy to boot.
John turned back to his Firebird and slid behind the wheel.
He'd stop by Dutch's bonfire tonight. He was a long-time friend and John respected him. John also respected Lani. He'd leave Cami, and her low-cut shirts, behind.
Alina Maschik sat back in her chair and propped her feet on the counter, crossing her ankles. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the computer screen, her lips pressed together in a grim line. She was seated in her Command Center, hidden beneath the kitchen floor, in her house in New Jersey. After arriving in the middle of the night, she managed to get in a few hours of sleep before the alarm in her watch woke her an hour ago. Charlie wanted to speak to her.
The computer screen flashed a green bar across the bottom briefly, checking the security protocols and firewalls, and then Charlie was there, dressed in his habitual gray suit and crisp white shirt. If she didn't know better, Alina would peg him for a high-powered attorney.
“Good morning,” Charlie greeted her with a nod. “Did you get some sleep?”
“A few hours,” Alina answered, uncrossing her arms and dropping her feet down. “Thank you for the transport in Munich. It wasn't necessary, but I was grateful for it. It would have taken another twenty-four hours for me to arrange my own.”
“That's why I did it,” Charlie answered. “I wanted you out of Europe without any delay.”
“They knew I was coming, Charlie. How?”
“I'm working on it,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”
Alina sipped her coffee, thankful for the hot rush of caffeine that helped wash away some of the cobwebs in her mind.
“I made it through Tel Aviv without anything more than the usual scrutiny from the Israelis,” she told him. “When I crossed into Damascus, four of them were waiting for me. I shook them long enough to reach my target, but picked them up again the next day. They tried to stop me before I left Syria.”
“Of course they did,” Charlie murmured. “They could have contained it there. Were they Al-Jibah's men?”
“I don't think so.” Viper set down her mug. “They were too well-organized. If they were his men, they were being told what to do by someone else, someone who knows how I navigate through Greece. They were right behind me all the way.”
“Are any still alive?”
“No.”
Charlie was quiet for a moment, then he nodded slowly.
“And Italy?”
“Definitely Italian intelligence,” she said flatly.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
Charlie fell silent for a moment, thinking. Alina reached for her coffee again.
“I want you out of the international arena for a while,” he finally spoke a few moments later. “You've been very active all over Europe and Asia since Christmas. It's time to lay low, let things calm down.”
“Sir?” Viper stared at the screen, her coffee forgotten.
“This is no reflection on you. You've been flawless since we brought you back into service last year,” Charlie told her. “This incident, however, concerns me. I want time to investigate. I need you to stay out of sight while I do it.”
“With all due respect, I don't think hiding from the enemy will send quite the message we want,” Viper said, her eyes flashing. “If they want a fight, I'm more than capable of giving them one.”
“We have to know who we're fighting first, Viper,” Charlie pointed out, the hint of a smile on his lips.
Alina stared at him, frustration creeping up inside her until her fingers curled around her coffee mug like claws. She released the mug quickly but not, she knew, before Charlie had noted the tell-tale action.
“Do we have a leak?” she asked bluntly.
Charlie didn't answer, nor did she expect him to. Viper sighed. She knew his job was to find out who, how and why her cover had been blown. It was her job to let him do it.
“When you have answers, I want to be the one you send,” she told him.
Charlie studied her in silence for a long moment before slowly nodding.
“Agreed.”
Viper nodded and sat back in her chair.
“Good.”
“As long as you stay out of sight,” Charlie added.
Alina smiled slowly.
“I won't leave Jersey,” she promised.
Charlie chuckled reluctantly.
“That should be a comfort, but knowing you, it's not,” he retorted. “Just don't attract any attention. Stay put and I'll contact you when I have something.”
Viper nodded and the computer screen went blank.
She sat back with her coffee, a frown creasing her brow. She had been given her orders. Stay put. Stay quiet. Stay out of sight.
What the hell was going on?
Stephanie Walker sipped her glass of wine and leaned her head back on the Adirondack chair, her feet propped up on the deck banister.
“I think Spring may be my favorite time of year,” she murmured, glancing at the woman seated beside her. “Everything is coming alive again, the air is fresh, and the flowers are starting to come out. Watching green appear always seems so hopeful somehow.”
“Mmm,” Alina murmured noncommittally, watching as two squirrels ch
ased each other across the lawn in the evening light.
“I didn't expect you to be here when I stopped by,” Stephanie continued. “When did you get back?”
“Last night,” Alina answered, sipping her wine. She didn't mention that it had actually been the early morning hours. “Things moved a little faster than I was expecting.”
Stephanie shot her a sharp look.
“Everything OK?”
The look she received back made her grimace slightly. They never discussed what Alina did when she wasn't in New Jersey and, frankly, Stephanie preferred it that way. On the few occasions she allowed herself to wonder what Lina's life was really like, Stephanie ended up in a cold sweat, recalling the dark, emotionless stranger she glimpsed once in an isolated clearing in Virginia. It was a life she didn't want to know about, and one that Alina made no attempt to share.
“How's Angela?” Alina changed the subject smoothly by asking about their old friend.
“Settling into her new job.”
Stephanie turned her attention back to the expanse of nature stretched out before them. Alina's house was settled in the Pine Barrens on sixteen acres, surrounded on all sides by woods. The sound of Spring filled the air; birds chirping in the trees and little foraging creatures darting in and out of the underbrush. She took a deep breath, exhaling out all the tension of the week, and smiled. Coming here was like taking a mini vacation; better, because she could go home and sleep in her own bed.
“After the mainframe breach last fall, she got her promotion. Did she tell you?” Stephanie asked.
“Yes. I told her she should leave the bank altogether.”
Stephanie looked at her in surprise.
“You did? Why?”
“Because she hates it there,” Alina informed her calmly.
Stephanie’s mouth dropped open.
“She's never said anything to me about hating it!” she exclaimed. “How do you know?”
“I'm observant,” Alina replied with a slight laugh. “It doesn't matter. She didn't listen to me. How's she settling into the new position?”
“She's traveling a lot, but I think she enjoys it,” Stephanie said. “She's in Florida right now.”