Behind Enemy Lines

by R. J. Patterson

  “How long did it take them to find you?” Black asked.

  “They were waiting for me before my feet touched the dirt. I was surrounded and just threw my hands in the air, praying they didn’t shoot me. There were two high-ranking commanders on site. One of them was arguing to kill me, while the other one insisted that I needed to be interrogated. After a few minutes of deliberation, they forced me into the back of one of their transport units with three soldiers. A couple days later, they transferred me to their installation on the Kamchatka Peninsula, and I stayed there until you extracted me.”

  “Extracted against your will, I might add,” Black said.

  Watkins narrowed his eyes, ignoring Black’s comment. “There’s no way that missile site could’ve foreseen an aerial reconnaissance mission, much less armed for it unless they knew I was coming. Someone had to have tipped them off. And I think it was Roman.”

  “Do you have any other reason to think he was the one who did this to you?” Blunt asked.

  Watkins looked down and sighed, pausing before answering. “Not really. It’s just a general feeling I get about him that he doesn’t like me. I don’t think he appreciates how much of a stickler I am for making sure everything is done with precision.”

  “That doesn’t sound like him,” Blunt said. “From what I remember of Roman, he’s a standup guy who’ll do anything for his men—and he runs a tight ship.”

  “Maybe that’s how he was back in the day, but now he’s just another career military man trying to climb the ranks to the Pentagon so he can retire with a fat pension and get a cushy consulting gig.”

  Blunt chuckled. “Washington’s crawling with those vermin. You don’t wanna get me started.”

  “So you get what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  Blunt nodded. “Unfortunately, all too well.”

  “Roman had to be the one to do it since he said the mission was top secret. He even told me not to fill out a flight plan. Everything was set up for me to disappear.”

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  Watkins’s jaw fell agape. “Perhaps? If this isn’t solid proof that he tried to get me killed, I don’t know what is. Now, let me ask you a question: Are you a religious man?”

  “I grew up Baptist, if that means anything to you,” Blunt said.

  “Good,” Watkins said. “I know you’ll understand this analogy then. Do you remember the story in the Bible about King David and Bathsheba?”

  “How can I forget? Who doesn’t enjoy a good unrequited love story?”

  Watkins wagged his finger. “Only it wasn’t unrequited. David sent Bathsheba’s husband Uriah to the front lines of battle, knowing he would die and then Bathsheba could be added to David’s growing list of wives.”

  “That’s why you never bathe naked on the rooftop,” Black added.

  “There are plenty of good nuggets of wisdom nestled in that story, but the point I’m trying to make is that there are ways to get rid of people you don’t like without making it look like you’re doing it. I will guarantee you that Roman never thought I’d return.”

  Blunt clipped off the end of one of his cigars and stuffed the stogie into his mouth. He chewed on the tobacco while he considered the story.

  “Well, what do you think?” Watkins asked, breaking the silence.

  “It’s conceivable that you’re reading too much into this,” Blunt said.

  Watkins shook his head. “But not likely. What are the odds that I would return considering how he stacked the deck against me?”

  Blunt leaned forward, scooting to the edge of his chair. “Look, I’m not trying to dismiss what you’re saying, but I do know that sometimes when we think something is there, we look hard for it. And to be frank with you, I’m an evidence guy. And if I’m going to take some kind of action against Col. Roman or others on the leadership of your base, I better have proof in hand of what’s going on and their efforts to silence you. Conjecture and circumstantial evidence aren’t enough for me to levy this kind of charge.”

  “I understand your point,” Watkins said, “but why was I left at that base for so long? I think the only reason anyone knew I was missing was because some relentless reporter wrote an article about me. Then they couldn’t just ignore it.”

  “They could if they really wanted to,” Blunt said. “They could’ve concocted some cover story that would’ve explained everything, and it would’ve all gone away. But the military needed a big win after a spell of bad PR. This was an easy victory they can now claim.”

  “Why did they call you instead of sending in a SEAL team or Air Force Special Ops?” Watkins asked. “We have guys who train their whole lives for these missions and never get tasked with extracting a pilot behind enemy lines. Yet someone at the Pentagon called you, the leader of some black ops program I’ve never heard of, to handle it. This doesn’t add up, and I’m hoping you look through all the fog and see what I’m talking about.”

  Blunt stood. “I want to help you Capt. Watkins, but I have the feeling you’re either conspiratorial in nature or you’re not telling me everything. Now, which is it?”

  “When I’m dead, you’ll know I was right—but it’ll be too late by then,” Watkins said, pointing at Blunt. “My blood will be on your hands too. I hope you can live with that.”

  Blunt offered his hand. “We’re going to do everything in our power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Watkins ignored Blunt’s gesture. “And how are you going to do that?”

  “I’ll have some of my people look into it.”

  “If you don’t take action now, it’s not going to do me any good.”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not the president, so I can make unilateral decisions and get to the bottom of everything. But I promise you that I will try and do so posthaste.”

  Watkins huffed. “I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

  Black escorted Watkins out of the safe house, leaving Blunt alone to his thoughts. He wanted to believe Watkins, but the story seemed entirely circumstantial. After ruminating for a few minutes, he picked up his phone and dialed Shields’s number.

  “I need you to do me a favor,” he said.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  “Get me a full work up on Captain Trevor Watkins. I want to know everything about this guy we just rescued.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Two years earlier

  TATIANA AWOKE WITH a gasp followed by a harsh bump to her forehead. Her attempt to sit up in the dark was foiled—and she wasn’t sure by what. She tried to move her arms, but couldn’t more than a few inches due to the hard walls on both sides of her. Realizing she was confined to a tight face, she screamed and kicked, anything to get help. After a few seconds, she hyperventilated. She wasn’t sure what she was in, but she couldn’t figure any way out

  After a half-minute, she steadied her breathing and tried to regain her composure.

  It’s going to be all right. It’s going to be all right.

  The space beneath her vibrated, and a constant dull hum emanated from somewhere outside. Still trying to figure out where she was, she banged her head on the space just above her.

  I’m in a box on an airplane? At least I’m not dead.

  The last thing she remembered was eating breakfast at the prison with her cellmate. Everything was fuzzy after that. Her head ached, and her muscles were cramping.

  They drugged me.

  That was the only logical explanation since she couldn’t recall ever walking onto a jet voluntarily. But how big was it? Were all the other young teens she’d seen in the warehouse here too? Was her cellmate here? A thousand more questions flooded Tatiana’s mind, and she gladly entertained them. Anything to forget about the betrayal from her father. But that wasn’t easy to do.

  Why didn’t he say anything when he answered the phone? Did he have something to do with this?

  Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a rational reason for why her father didn’t res
pond.

  Maybe the connection was bad. That had to be it. He probably didn’t even hear me.

  That’s what she wanted to believe. She adored her father, even though he wasn’t around much. Her mother made snide comments about him all the time, about his travel schedule and his general absence at important family functions. He even missed his own mother’s birthday party for three years running, forcing Tatiana’s mother to go alone. And she despised her mother in law.

  But deep down, Tatiana knew something wasn’t right. Her father was supposed to come down to the beach after he’d finished work. And he never showed up. At the very least, he would text or call. She considered the possibility that he had while she was in the water or off getting ice cream with her friends, yet she couldn’t shake the eerie sense that he was involved in this, whatever this was.

  About an hour later, the plane bounced and the tires barked as it landed. She guessed about half an hour had elapsed since coming to a full stop before she heard voices. Then, seconds later, a whooshing noise along with mist began to fill her box.

  *

  TATIANA DIDN’T KNOW how long she was knocked out, but when she regained consciousness, she was lying on a concrete floor in a well-lit warehouse. The muggy air hung thick around her. A pair of soldiers armed with machine guns stood guarding the exit along the far wall. As she continued to survey her surroundings, she whipped around to look at the opposite wall and saw two more men toting weapons.

  A cool breeze wafted through the building, bringing temporary respite from the humid conditions. But once the wind dissipated, sweat beaded on her forehead.

  One of the guards noticed that she was awake and shouted at another man before pointing at her. He acknowledged the report with a head nod and strode over to Tatiana.

  “Welcome back, Tatiana,” the man said in Russian. “You were out for quite a while.”

  “Where am I? What is this place?” she demanded.

  “You’re safe now,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back. “And I’m going to make sure you never get in a situation like that again.”

  “What kind of situation was I in?”

  The man patted her on the head in a patronizing fashion. “Oh, Tatiana, you have so much to learn about the world.”

  “Why don’t you start the first lesson by telling me who you are and what I’m doing here.”

  “Just relax, Tatiana,” he said as he stood. “You’re going to enjoy yourself here as long as you do as you’re told.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Washington, D.C.

  TITUS BLACK LIFTED the coffee lid and tossed it into the trash. He eased his face over the steam and inhaled. Given the long day of travel he’d endured after meeting with Capt. Watkins, Black needed something to rouse him from his drowsy state. He lumbered to the back of the coffee shop and then settled into a booth, the perfect position to watch both the front door and the news anchor introducing a piece about the Ukrainian government.

  Black shifted in his seat and listened intently to the story. The reporter on location gave a brief primer on the tense relations between Russia and the Ukraine before switching to a clip of Ukrainian President Vasyl Petrenko in front of a podium at a press conference. With an easel to his left, he pointed to a simplified diagram explaining how the new Ukrainian missile defense system would halt any future attacks from Russia. According to Petrenko, no longer would the Russian military be able to target the Ukrainian people at will. The new technology was designed to neutralize such threats before they had an opportunity to inflict any damage.

  The translator for the report reworded Petrenko’s speech: “No longer will we cower in fear at the Russian bullies on our doorstep. They will need to focus their efforts elsewhere as we have the ability to thwart anything our neighbors try to assault us with. The Ukraine will survive as a democratic state determined to play a significant role in world politics.”

  Black chuckled at Petrenko’s bluster. If the Ukrainian president could get away with annihilating Russia, he would. And he wouldn’t think twice about it.

  Moments later, Nate Miller, The Washington Post reporter responsible for breaking the story that initiated the extraction request for Capt. Watkins, strode through the door.

  “Mr. Miller,” Black said as he stood and gave a polite wave to the newsman.

  Miller turned and walked over to Black’s table. “Thank you for meeting me, sir. Senator Blunt spoke very highly of you, though he didn’t tell me your name. He just said I should meet with one of his team members about that article and see if there’s more to it.”

  “It’s best that you don’t know my name, for your sake and for mine.”

  “Okay. You value your privacy. I can appreciate that.”

  Black nodded. “Can I buy you something to drink? Coffee?”

  “Coffee, and I’ll take it black,” Miller said.

  “The reporter’s special,” Black said with a wink. He walked to the counter and placed an order for Miller.

  Once the two men settled into their chairs, Black opened the meeting.

  “I appreciate your willingness to share your experience with me,” Black said. “I’m always intrigued by the people who break big stories.”

  “Well, I don’t wear a cape or anything like that. If you’re looking for some kind of superhero, you need to keep looking.”

  “No, no, no,” Black said with a wave of his hand. “I’m just interested in learning more about what inspired you to start digging into this story.”

  Miller sighed before taking a long sip of his drink. “To be honest with you, I’m beginning to wonder if that was the right thing to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For starters, I was nearly killed last week when some maniac ran me off the road.”

  Black forced a smile. “Welcome to Washington.”

  “No, I’ve lived here for a while. I know what it’s like to drive on the beltway every day. This wasn’t some random incident where I cut some guy off and he was ticked at me. No, this was very deliberate.”

  “Are you sure? People in Washington can be temperamental.”

  “Positive,” Miller said. “The guy nudged me off the road, and I spun out. My car hit a tree near a park, but I fortunately didn’t hit my head and maintained consciousness. My door was jammed, so I crawled out the passenger side before the vehicle burst into flames.”

  “Burst into flames after hitting a tree?”

  “I heard some sort of sound like a rocket maybe right after I got out. The next thing I know, my car was obliterated.”

  “By an RPG?”

  “I don’t know about all your military acronyms. I just know I wasn’t supposed to survive.”

  “What’d you tell the cops?”

  “Nothing,” Miller said. “I kept my mouth shut and returned to my normal job. To be honest, I love breaking stories, but not at the expense of my life. Of all the accolades I could win from my friends, I’d hate to not be there to receive it. Posthumous awards aren’t exactly what I’m striving for.”

  Black nodded. “That’s understandable. But to get a response like that, you had to ruffle a few feathers. What else do you know that you’re not telling me?”

  Miller shook his head. “I have no idea. Everything I learned that I could verify was in the initial story. From what I could tell, the military was ignoring Capt. Watkins and planned on leaving him to rot in a Russian prison.”

  “Do you think the Air Force didn’t consider Watkins someone worth rescuing?”

  “I don’t know. That’s not my call. I just report facts—and the facts were that Watkins was shot down behind enemy lines and needed to be rescued in some form or fashion. I didn’t care if it was through a Navy SEAL extraction team or some black ops agent. I just know he should’ve at least been regarded enough as a high value member of our military to go retrieve. These days it seems like we’re so focused on the overall geopolitical landscape that we forget what we’re really abo
ut.”

  “And what are we really about, Mr. Miller?”

  “Should we be about caring for each person, no matter what flag they’re draped in? Isn’t that what our military does through its humanitarian missions and other global operations?”

  Black chuckled and shook his head. “I honestly wish that were the case, but that’s not the world we live in. Our soldiers know the risk they face every time they suit up for a mission. And sometimes the fallout isn’t pretty.”

  “I understand that, but there’s always more to the story,” Miller said, tapping his pen on the table.

  “Is that what you were hoping for today? That I would tell you the rest of the story?”

  Miller shrugged. “Maybe not for print.”

  “You want me to give you a peek behind the curtains and think that you’re not going to broadcast it to the world?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  Black eyed him closely. “I haven’t decided yet. But I’m starting to get the idea that there’s more to your story that you’re not telling me. Perhaps the real question is do you trust me?”

  “I’m not sure I can trust anyone because there are a lot of things in my world right now that aren’t making much sense after I published that article.”

  “What did you expect when you started this? That you would just smack the hornet’s nest and escape without getting swarmed? You’re dealing with some powerful people, the kind who don’t appreciate you shedding light on all their dealings in the dark.”

  Miller sighed. “So what are you going to do about it? Isn’t that what you do?”

  “I’m not a superhero either. I have to operate within the confines of the law just like everyone else.”

  “Except when you don’t.”

  Black smiled wryly. “There are times when the situation calls for a little more heavy-handed use of force. Perhaps some people would say that what I do might push the boundaries of legality. But ultimately, it’s not up to me to judge. I just do my best to follow orders.”