Behind Enemy Lines

by R. J. Patterson

  A Range Rover. This is quite the upgrade.

  Watkins staggered to his feet and started to run once he made eye contact with Black. However, the asset didn’t get more than a few steps before Black tackled him.

  “I told you I’m getting you out of here,” Black said as he subdued Watkins with a bear hug. “And I always keep my promises.”

  Black spun Watkins around and punched him again, rendering him unconscious.

  “I think we’re all clear here,” Black said over his coms. “Any sign of more bogeys?”

  “You’re good,” Shields said.

  “And the extraction team?”

  “Ready and waiting. But I suggest you hurry before the Russians figure out what you just did.”

  Black chuckled. “They’ll be scratching their heads about this one for days.”

  “Let’s hope so. In the meantime, I’m gonna do a little digging on Watkins and see what I can find out. I’ve never heard of any of our soldiers wanting to stay in a Russian prison.”

  “It does seem odd, doesn’t it?”

  “Odd doesn’t begin to describe that response to a rescue. But good work, Black.”

  “Just another day at the beach.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Two years earlier

  Benoa Bay, Bali

  Indonesia

  TATIANA’S EYES WIDENED, and her mouth fell agape as she dug her toes into the sand. She spun around and threw her hands up. After running toward the ocean for a few meters, she stopped and closed her eyes. With a deep breath, she inhaled the saltwater air and smiled.

  “Mama, this is amazing,” she said, using her native Russian tongue.

  Her mother nodded knowingly, her expression stoic. “It sure is, isn’t it?”

  “I thought Papa said he’d never be able to take off enough time to make a holiday trip like this.”

  “That’s what he said, but your Papa is full of surprises.”

  Tatiana absorbed the afternoon sunshine, pausing for a moment to bask in her good fortune. In a week, she’d turn thirteen and begin studying at a special sports academy for gifted athletes in Moscow. Despite applying without either of her parents’ knowledge, she was pleased when they both agreed to let her attend the school and pursue her dream of representing Russia in the Olympics. Losing a few privileges for a month as a punishment for forging her parents’ signature was well worth it.

  “Is Papa going to join us?” she asked.

  “He promised that he’d be along soon,” her mother said. “He had a few phone calls to make for business.”

  Tatiana shrugged. She was accustomed to her father’s absence after years of him working as a traveling salesman for a natural gas company. He was dedicated to his job, so much so that it was common for him to field a business-related request during dinner. And while her mother complained about it incessantly, Tatiana never did. She appreciated the fact that he provided for them, even if it meant never taking trips as a family.

  Until now.

  Tatiana waded into the ocean, bobbing up and down with the waves. She slapped at the water and giggled. After a minute, she leaned into a wave and floated on her back, wishing her brother Peter could’ve been with her. He always talked about going to the seaside, though she doubted he would’ve ever imagined Bali being the destination. Yalta or Sochi, maybe. But Bali would’ve been out of the question since it required a plane trip to get there. And while her father made a better living than most, he still would’ve been apprehensive based on the cost. His penny-pinching ways often resulted in shouting matches between her parents. However, when he announced this trip, he said it was a special one, made possible because he had an assignment in Bali.

  Tatiana retreated to the beach and spread out her blanket before deciding what book to read. When she looked around and didn’t see her father, she pulled out her copy of The Hunger Games. He vocalized his displeasure whenever he saw her reading English books, and he would be especially upset with her selection due to the violent nature of the story.

  But if he isn’t here . . .

  Tatiana read for an hour straight without a word to her mother.

  “Is Papa ever going to join us?” Tatiana asked. His absence is what emboldened her to quit ballet a year ago and take up playing soccer. He stormed around the house when her mother told him about it, but she told him she'd only continue dancing if he took her to practice. That ended the discussion.

  “I told you that he said he’d be along soon, but I also told you he’s full of surprises.”

  Her lips eased into a smile. “You think he has something special planned for us?”

  “That’ll be the day,” her mother said sarcastically as she stroked Tatiana’s straight blonde locks.

  Tatiana rolled her eyes and scanned the beach. While she had been engrossed in her novel, she noticed a handful of kids around her age were in the water and playing games. She slammed the book shut and leaped to her feet. Tossing her phone to her mother, Tatiana ran toward the ocean.

  “I’m going to go play with those kids,” she shouted back over her shoulder.

  Tatiana’s boldness meant she never lacked for friends, something she trained herself to do after Peter vanished.

  “Tatiana, you come back here right now,” her mother called.

  Tatiana spun around to face her mother but continued moving backward. “I’ll be fine. I’m right here, so you’ll be able to see me the whole time.”

  She leaped over a little boy’s sandcastle and sprinted into the water. There were three boys and two girls tossing a ball around in what appeared to be a game of keep away. One of the girls, Allison, introduced Tatiana to everyone before immediately placing her in the middle. Their thick English accents and pale skin easily gave away their nationality. The other kids could only get the ball over her head once before she soared out of the water and snatched it.

  “Wow,” one of the boys said. “Are you some sort of superhero?”

  Tatiana chuckled. “I play keeper—and one day you’ll cheer for me.”

  “For England?” he asked, his eyes still wide in disbelief.

  “Do I look English?” she asked, eyeing him closely.

  “Well, you don’t sound it, but you could’ve fooled me if I hadn’t heard you talk.”

  She shrugged. “Does it matter who I play for?”

  The boy shook his head. “You’re bloody amazing.”

  Tatiana smiled, soaking in the complement. In less than half an hour, she became instant friends with the kids, who were part of three families traveling together from London. Once they stopped playing, they bounced in the water and started talking.

  “Do you come here often?” Tatiana asked Allison.

  “Every year,” she said. “It’s a tradition. Our fathers all work together.”

  “What do they do?”

  Allison sighed. “I don’t know. Some boring business stuff, I think.”

  One of the boys, Michael, interrupted their conversation. “Who wants to get some ice cream? My treat.”

  The kids shouted with delight.

  “What about you, Tatiana?” Michael asked. “Would you like to join us?”

  She hesitated, weighing what she wanted to do with what she knew her mother would say. “I—I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be a spoil sport. We’re just going to walk about a half a mile over there and get a little snack before supper.”

  She looked across the water and saw the sun starting to slip below the horizon. But she didn’t say a word.

  “Well,” Michael said, “what’s it gonna be?”

  “I promised my mother that I’d watch the sunset with her,” she said glancing toward her mother, whose head was tilted back and mouth open while apparently asleep.

  “Is that her there?” he asked, pointing at her mother.

  Tatiana nodded.

  “I think she forgot,” Michael said. “Come on. It won’t hurt if you come with us.”

  Sh
e sighed. “Okay.”

  “Yes,” Allison said, hugging Tatiana from behind. “You won’t regret it. This place has the most amazing ice cream outside of the British Empire.”

  “Well, that makes sense since this was part of our Empire at one time,” Michael said.

  Allison slapped him on the arm as they trudged ashore. “Didn’t you ever pay attention in geography during primary school? The Dutch colonized this part of Indonesia.”

  Michael shrugged. “It’s still delicious no matter who once ruled here.”

  Tatiana tagged along with the group until they reached the ice cream parlor. She struggled to understand half of what they were talking about. The way they talked, she wondered if London was on another planet.

  “So, you’re a keeper?” Michael asked.

  Tatiana nodded.

  “Who’s your favorite player in the Premier League?”

  “In the what?” she asked.

  “Leave her alone, Michael,” Allison said, punching him in the arm. “Not everyone is so obsessed with football like you are.”

  The lights over the shop flickered on as the sun dipped below the horizon. They all discussed what they were going to order and waited patiently. When they all had a cone in hand, Allison proposed a toast.

  “Here’s to new friends,” Allison said, throwing her arm around Tatiana’s shoulder.

  “To new friends,” they all said in unison, hoisting their desserts in the air.

  A boy walked by, half-heartedly dribbling a soccer ball. Michael raced over to him and stole it away with some fancy footwork without any protests. The younger boy tried to take it back but couldn’t hold his own against the English teen.

  “Just a moment,” Michael said to the boy. “I want to see if this girl is as good as she says she is. I’ll give your ball right back.”

  The boy shrugged and nodded permissively.

  “Give your cone to Allison, and line up between those two tables,” Michael said, directing Tatiana where to go. “Those look about the right distance for a goal, don’t you agree?”

  “Sure,” Tatiana said as she took her place and crouched into her stance.

  “Ready?” Michael asked.

  She flashed him a thumbs up sign and prepared for his shot. He backed up a few feet and raced toward the ball. Striking low and leaning back, Michael lifted the ball well over what would’ve been the crossbar and flying toward the street.

  “Show off,” Allison said. “Go get the ball.”

  “I’ll get it,” Tatiana said.

  “No, make Michael do it. That was an atrocious penalty shot.”

  “I don’t mind, really,” Tatiana said before turning to fetch the ball.

  She saw the ball bouncing across the street and waited for a few cars to stop and allow her to pass through the crosswalk. When she reached the other side, she looked up and saw a man in a suit with his foot on the ball next to a dark SUV.

  “May I have that ball, sir?” Tatiana asked.

  The man eyed her cautiously before offering the ball just in front of him with his foot. When she went to pick it up, two men jumped out of the vehicle and shoved her into the backseat. She was so caught off guard by their actions that she didn’t scream until she was almost all the way inside. The doors slammed shut as Tatiana continued to scream.

  One of the men in the back pulled out a gun. “You’ll shut up if you know what’s good for you,” he said in Russian.

  She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him.

  The man outside picked the ball up and booted it back toward the kids and waved. He got inside and drove off.

  Tatiana looked over her shoulder, trying to see if her new friends comprehended what was happening. They didn’t appear alarmed, just somewhat confused by her disappearance as they stood there apparently awaiting her return.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she demanded, reverting to her native tongue.

  None of the men said a word as they sped along alleyways and darted through intersections. She was making copious notes in her head, trying to see if she could remember where she was going. Then she felt a sudden prick in the side of her neck. She glanced at the guard sitting to her right, and he smiled and snickered. A few seconds later, Tatiana lost consciousness.

  *

  TATIANA AWOKE some time later on a cot in a cell in the middle of a warehouse. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out, but she had a searing headache. After rubbing her eyes, she scanned the room and tried to gather her wits. There was another girl about her age huddled in the corner.

  “Hey,” Tatiana shouted. “I demand to know what’s going on!”

  The other girl looked up. “Don’t say another word. It’s not worth it.”

  Tatiana glanced at her new roommate, who sported a large shiner around her right eye.

  “Did they do this to you?” Tatiana asked.

  The girl nodded slowly. “And they’ll do it to you too if you continue shouting.”

  Tatiana ignored the girl. “Hello? Anyone? I demand to know why you’ve brought me here right now.”

  A guard stormed toward her cell and unlocked it. He strode up to Tatiana before shoving her against the wall.

  “One more outburst like that and you’ll regret it,” he said as he sneered at her.

  “Oh, really?” Tatiana said. She took a deep breath and shouted again. “Tell me why I’m here.”

  The guard pinned her against the wall, pressing his nightstick against her throat. “This is your last chance. Understand?”

  She gasped for breath, grabbing for her throat as she tried to breathe.

  “Understand?” the guard asked again.

  Tatiana strained to nod before the guard released her. She crumpled to the ground, coughing and heaving as she tried to regain her breath. Her cellmate waited until the man left before rushing over.

  “Are you okay?” the girl asked.

  Tatiana glanced up to make sure they were alone before nodding. Then she dug a cell phone out of her pocket.

  “He did exactly what I wanted him to,” she said.

  Once she sat up, she dialed her mother’s cell phone number. The call went straight to voicemail. She hung up and entered her father’s number before pressing the “send” button.

  “Allo,” he said after answering.

  “Papa,” Tatiana said, “some men took me while I was at the beach. Please, I need your help.”

  He didn’t say a word.

  “Papa!” she cried. “Say something.”

  Still nothing.

  “Papa, it’s me. Tatiana.”

  The line went dead.

  CHAPTER 3

  Tangier, Morocco

  J.D. BLUNT STOOD TO GREET Capt. Watkins with a handshake as Black ushered the former Russian captive into the cozy living room. After the trio exchanged pleasantries, they all sat down, taking in the surroundings of the Firestorm safe house. The windows were open, allowing the breeze from the Mediterranean to cool the place.

  “Sorry about the delay in getting you home,” Blunt said as he swirled his glass of bourbon. “I wanted to hear the truth straight from your mouth.”

  “I don’t know whether to punch you or thank you for rescuing me,” Watkins said.

  “Well, I’m not responsible for saving you,” Blunt said as he pointed at Black. “That guy right there is the one who did all the hard work.”

  “Yeah, and I still have a massive headache because of him.”

  “But at least your life is not subject to the whims of a Russian general.”

  “Russian general, American base commander—what’s the difference?”

  Blunt took a long pull on his drink. “I hope they’re not one in the same, but let’s hear it.”

  Watkins scanned the room. “Can I have a drink first?”

  “Of course,” Blunt said. “Where are my manners?”

  He eased out of his chair and shuffled across the room to the wet bar on the far wall. “I have bourbon and scotch. Which
do you prefer?”

  “Bourbon, neat.”

  “I knew I liked you,” Blunt said.

  Watkins drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair while he waited for his drink. “Is this how you debrief all the people you rescue?”

  Blunt chuckled. “Hardly. Your case is a rare one, though not completely unprecedented. However, I know the feeling. My own government has tried to kill me too.”

  “What’d you do about it?”

  “I faked my death.”

  “That’s what I wished you would’ve let me do,” Watkins said before taking a swig of his bourbon.

  “Well, tell me your story, and Agent Black and I will see what we can do to keep you safe.”

  Watkins took a deep breath. “Where to begin? Let’s see.”

  “It’s your story,” Blunt said. “Tell it however you like.”

  Watkins drained the rest of his glass before continuing. “I’m not sure how comfortable I am divulging all the details.”

  “Just tell us what you know,” Blunt said.

  “Well, my suspicion is based on the fact that my base commander—”

  “Isn’t that Gil Roman?” Blunt asked.

  Watkins nodded and continued. “Colonel Roman asked me to fly a reconnaissance mission over the Stanovoy Mountains near a suspected missile launch site the Russian military was constructing.”

  Black furrowed his brow. “Air recon in Russia?”

  “We don’t need to do it very often anymore,” Watkins said. “But it’s not so rare that I would question it right off the bat. And the assignment was simple. I was supposed to fly over this location and gather intel—pictures, radio activity, radiation levels—standard fare for that type of operation. According to Roman, the facility was carved out of rock and we needed better imagery than what we were getting with our satellites.”

  “Sounds like a straightforward recon mission,” Blunt said.

  “That’s what I thought—until I reached the site,” Watkins said. “I should’ve been able to zip in and out before they knew I was there. But it’s like they were waiting on me. One of their surface-to-air missiles locked in on my position, but I was able to roll away at the last second to avoid getting blown out of the sky. However, my fuselage got hit by some artillery fire from the ground, and I had to bail out.”