Stormy Seas

by Ali Vali

  “I’m sure Agent Mosley isn’t leading us down a path of wasted time, sir,” Aidan said.

  “This was the first beach house Mrs. Whitestone purchased on Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. Since that time, she had Mr. Boyd persuade six of her neighbors—three on each side—to sell. Once those sales went through, Mrs. Whitestone closed the beach along that stretch and made it private.”

  “Is Whitestone by chance a friend of Dick Chandler?” Rooster asked as Erin clicked through all the pictures.

  “I doubt she knows him or anyone else, since she’s ninety-six and living in a home that specializes in Alzheimer’s patients. She’s been there for seven years after her health deteriorated following the death of her second husband, and she hasn’t spoken for five of those seven years.”

  Berkley seemed to understand as she leaned in. “Who was her first husband?”

  “Tom Bristol, Sr,” Erin said, putting up an old picture of two young men. “Best friend and past business associate of Richard D. Chandler. Tom Bristol, Jr, as we all know, is the current CEO of Gromwell and also a good friend of Dick.”

  “We need satellite photos of that area,” Rooster said.

  “We do, but I found this article in the local paper. The neighbors beyond the private beach complained, then sued over this issue.” Erin’s last photo was a grainy newspaper clipping of the offshore boat pier Mrs. Whitestone commissioned after the sales were final. The massive structure looked extremely out of place.

  “How far are you, Aidan?” Drew asked.

  “We’re crossing the Georgia coast now, which is near enough for our planes.”

  “Baylor, we need your men on the ground, and once we verify that Jacqueline Whitestone doesn’t own a thousand-foot yacht, we clear this stretch of beach,” Olivia said. “If her purchases somehow include Russian subs to attract an American one with its nuclear weapons, don’t hesitate to do what you do best, Cletus. That’s about the only theory that makes that huge pier and boathouse plausible.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Berkley stood up and saluted, as did everyone in the conference room with her.

  “Are you up to it? I realize you’re hurt.”

  “Madam President, finishing this job for you will be my honor,” Berkley said, and no one contradicted her. “Chandler is about to learn a woman’s place is not the kitchen, the bedroom, or under his heel.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Baylor had his guys swim up to the beach at one of the houses not owned by Whitestone after they’d jumped from the helicopter that’d brought them three hundred yards offshore. If anyone was home, they were asleep since the house was dark, luckily making the beach dark as well. Whoever was using the main house at the center, they were important or valued their privacy enough to need a lot of guards, who were scattered throughout the six properties. The sliver of a moon provided a bit too much light for Baylor and what his guys had to do, but the cloud cover was helping.

  “Do you think anyone’s inside?” Tito asked as they lay in the dunes. There were more men in North Korea, but these guys appeared to not want to take chances, and their positioning meant they had some military background.

  “We need to find out, but there’s way too many pit bulls in the yard,” he said as he glanced at the house that was abandoned because of beach erosion. The place was leaning into the Atlantic, had no windows, and its stilts stood in at least two feet of water. Whoever owned it had abandoned it years before.

  Wiley had come along as their guardian angel and made her way up there, but she’d been quieter than usual after Cletus found a file that had a black dragon with its wings spread on the outside. None of them had read it, but Cletus told Baylor to give Wiley the opportunity to put a bullet in Chandler’s head if it came to that, since she deserved that right more than anyone out there.

  “Do you want to thin the herd?” Tito asked.

  “See if you and KO can grab one of these muscle necks, and let’s find out who we’re dealing with. The front is your best bet. The majority seem to be back here, like they’re waiting on something.” They all flattened themselves to the ground when the sweeping spotlights started. “Fuck, it might be showtime. Eyes open, guys. This might be the opening act.”

  “Everyone hold,” Tito said so they would pass the message along.

  “Do you see any opening to move closer?” Baylor asked as he made another sweep with the night-vision binoculars. “We need to get in there and see who’s in the house before we call in Captain America and she blows this place to shit.”

  They were on radio silence, but the activity was definitely picking up, so they would have to start communicating. “The fence line has a break fifty yards from here,” Tito said. “Right over there.”

  “When the sweep light moves to the left again, we go.” The strong beams paused on the water, and Baylor stopped to determine exactly what they were trying to see. He didn’t have time to notice anything, since the lights went out—all of them. The place suddenly appeared as if it’d been sucked into a black hole.

  The strange pier-boathouse facility offshore was large and extremely out of place, but the sudden sound of something breaking the water reached the shore. “Son of a bitch,” Tito said softly, but the phrase was appropriate. It wasn’t every day you saw a Los Angeles-class fast-attack nuclear sub surface off the North Carolina border in a vacation spot.

  “Do you have a clear view?” Baylor asked Wiley, taking the chance to use the radio.

  “The hatch opened, and a few people climbed out. They’re on a crew boat headed to the beach.”

  “We need to get closer and take a look in the house at the center,” he said, not really worried about Wiley and what she’d read in that file. She wasn’t prone to emotional, murderous outbursts that would compromise her fellow team members.

  “Get ready to move,” Wiley said, and Baylor heard the boat motor, the sound seeming to hold the guards’ attention. “Go.”

  Half the team slipped through the cut in the fence, and the other half raced to the front. Wiley watched them go and made sure no bad surprises would cost them a man. It was tempting to look back at the boat to see who was coming ashore and start picking them off one by one, but she stayed focused on Baylor and the guys.

  The file Cletus had found contained information about the people responsible for driving her away from Aubrey in order to keep her safe. Their determination to kill her had cost her so many years with Aubrey and all those years with their daughter. Granted, she and Tanith had a special bond that grew stronger every day, but what would it have been like to be there the day she was born, the day she took her first step, taught her to ride a bike? It was an endless list, and nothing she could do would turn back the clock, thanks to one man.

  Dick Chandler had cut a deal with the Columbian cartel, and it had cost her not only the time with her family, but it’d also forfeited the lives of every one of the team members she’d worked with during that last mission that had changed her life. Worst, Chandler had used the murder of all those innocent people to prove his point about women in combat. In his pea-sized brain, she was too good at her job, and she had to die for it.

  Karma was a bitch, as the old saying went, and now all she wanted was to pay him back with a bullet to the center of his forehead.

  At least she now had the targets she needed to eliminate any threat to her future. She wanted her family to have a happy life, never having to look over their shoulder in fear of something or someone she hadn’t eliminated because she’d had no clue where to begin looking. After all this was done, she’d work on her list with or without permission from General Greenwald or the military.

  Tonight, though, Berkley had promised that one shot, if the opportunity presented itself, and she was grateful her old friend understood what losing your love meant and how much it hurt.

  “Everyone stop moving,” Baylor said, and Wiley aimed right at Baylor. No guards stood around him or his companions, so she waited. “Shit, there’s like a m
illion trip wires out here. One wrong move and they can serve us all on a chopped salad.”

  “They rigged land mines with all the civilians around?” Wiley asked.

  “These guys must be here all the time to keep everyone not affiliated with them clear, because all this shit’s been here a while.” Baylor backed away through the same hole in the fence. “We’re going to have to get some of the neighbors out of here. If we blow this spot and they’ve added their own hardware, some of the other houses will be collateral damage.”

  “We evacuate the wrong people, and we lose this asshole again,” Wiley said. “Let’s call the boss.”

  “We hold for now.” Baylor moved back to the dunes with his men. The boat had hit the beach, where a group of men jumped ashore, and Wiley took her eyes off her team to see who they were. “US Navy uniforms,” Baylor said. “This must be our missing Captain Liskow.”

  “Hold your position. If we see the removal of warheads or Chandler’s vessels, we’ll have to up our timeline for the ultimate home makeover,” Wiley said, since she saw no sign of Chandler now.

  “Cover us,” Baylor said as he belly-crawled to the edge of the dunes. “We need some men back out by that pier to put a leash on all these assholes.”

  “Make sure you’re clear. If you get blown up, I’ll never be able to eat another chopped salad again.”

  “Do you eat a lot of it?” Baylor asked and laughed.

  “No, but I’ll never get to develop a taste for it if you become chum, so get your ass out fast. Fireworks are always more enjoyable from a distance.”

  “Trust me. I want to finish my popcorn so I can sit back and enjoy the show.”

  One guard started walking to the beach and raised his hand to radio in but fell when Wiley took him out. It appeared to be Tito who dragged him into the water with them. The men who’d gotten off the boat started up to the largest house in the center, and the guards returned to their patrols.

  “Zookeeper.” She made a call, knowing it’d take Baylor some time to get back to the pier in the high surf.

  “Go ahead,” Aidan said.

  “We have eyes on our missing sub, but we’re in a holding pattern. Stand by until we see the missing party members from the land of vodka and caviar.” She noticed the lights in the neighbor’s house come on and a man walk out the back door. “Hold, Zookeeper.”

  The man wore fatigue pants and boots, and when she noticed the rifle in his right hand, she realized the area contained more than land mines. “Goose,” she said and aimed at the overweight Rambo in the tight black T-shirt and camouflage pants. “Hold your position. You have an armed neighbor coming up to you. The next house on the beach has to be part of this group.”

  The guy placed his rifle against his shoulder but didn’t aim at Goose and the guys around him. He seated the weapon and aimed toward the abandoned house where Wiley was positioned. She didn’t wait and shot through his scope, sending the bullet right through his head and out the back of it.

  “Cleanup on aisle five. Clear the deck,” she said, and Goose and his guys scooted as fast as they could on their abdomens. They dragged the guy back inside and closed the door behind them.

  “You were right,” Goose said. “This place is full of bunks on the first floor and enough New Horizon’s uniforms to clothe another battalion. He had motion sensors in the dunes and in that house you’re in. I wonder why that guy didn’t call his buddies?”

  “He’s probably seen one too many action movies and thought he’d play the hero. Guess he didn’t learn the lesson about there being no I in the word team. Bring backup and clear the second floor.”

  A horn-type sound went off from somewhere offshore, and she moved to take a look. “Wiley, we have two more vessels,” Baylor said softly.

  “Clear out. You need to beat Cletus here.”

  “Call in the big dog,” Baylor said. “We’re swimming back.”

  “Zookeeper, we’re a go. Make it fast, and follow the guideposts the guys laid out for you.”

  “Make sure you stay clear of the work area,” Aidan said.

  “Yes, ma’am, and tell our friend not to spare any hardware.”

  * * *

  The nurse had put a tight bandage on Berkley’s wound for more mobility and to help with the pain. She wasn’t cleared for duty, but Aidan wasn’t going to keep her out of the cockpit. They’d spoken before the SEALs and Wiley had left, and Berkley had nodded when Aidan told her it was time to finish what they’d started together. Aidan wanted her to have a part in this since Berkley had gladly followed her on the mission that had kicked off this crazy year. It was only fair for her to be there at its conclusion.

  “The targets are in sight and painted. Don’t hesitate, and don’t forget your way home,” Aidan said as a deck crew locked them into the jet.

  “Let’s do this for President Michaels and President Khalid,” she said as the jet powered on. The bombs the crew had put under her wings had Peter and Eva’s names on them as a way to honor the late president and his wife.

  She took a breath before she punched it forward and got them airborne, wanting to remember every minute of this night. This wasn’t about revenge but about justice. Finishing this would hopefully make her father and her future father-in-law proud of the job she and Aidan had done during their tenure of service.

  “Let’s give the neighbors something to talk about, people,” Berkley said as she leveled off.

  They headed toward the coast with Vader, Killer, and Poncho right behind her. “Black Dragon, you and the team clear?”

  “We’ll be out,” Wiley said.

  “Tiger One?” Berkley said.

  “We’re out and close to the beach. Don’t hesitate,” Baylor said, and Berkley figured she’d be there in five minutes.

  “See you in a bit.”

  “Roger that,” Wiley said, and the gunfire started from the house Goose had entered. “Goose?” She radioed him but kept her attention on the closest guards. They were looking in that direction as well. “Try to get one of their radios.”

  The first guy to pick up the small walkie-talkie as three of his friends started to run toward the house was the one she started with. They had to keep someone from warning Chandler. She thought about how long this asshole had in a way held them hostage, and Cletus was right. It had been way too long, so letting him get away wasn’t in her plans.

  She took aim and killed the guards now sprinting toward the house that would’ve made the seventh in the stretch of beach Chandler controlled. The mistake on the investigators’ part could’ve cost them dearly, but they’d have time enough later to discuss every aspect of this mission.

  In the rush to help his comrades, one of Chandler’s men ran through the yard and stepped on a land mine. That noise almost made Wiley miss the sound of the boat out in the water.

  “Wiley,” Baylor said.

  “Are you clear of the water?” The boat had turned back to the subs when the land mine went off. Wiley adjusted the scope and aimed for the large motor. She wanted to stop them while they were closer to the shore than their getaway vehicle.

  “Yes,” Baylor said, and Wiley pulled the trigger. The engine stopped dead about fifty yards from the beach.

  Another couple of men pushed the first boat she’d seen from the beach and started the engine, as if going out to rescue whoever was in the disabled one. That wasn’t going to happen, and she shot through that engine as well. If it was Chandler, he was going to have to crawl to the shore and beg for his life in order to see the morning.

  “We’re going in to give Goose a hand,” Baylor said.

  She kept staring at the first boat she’d shot at but couldn’t really make out the faces of those aboard. Chandler’s death had to be a certainty, so she kept trying to focus. Two people on the first boat started paddling, trying to reach the subs, and she was about to pull the trigger again when she heard the sound of a jet, so she waited.

  “Let’s see if your rowing skills can be
at Cletus to that sub.”

  * * *

  “Junior, do we have our targets in sight?” Berkley said as she flew five thousand feet over the water. When the clouds cleared she could see how rough the water was, which would slow the Jefferson’s trip back to port.

  “We’ll be in range in twenty miles. We’re locked into the beacons Baylor’s team painted,” Junior said. “And the sky is clear. No bogeys around to slow us from our plans.”

  “The subs gave us a problem last time,” she said, turning more toward the coast. “Keep your eyes open for anything they shoot at us.”

  “You got it.” Junior started their countdown, and she hoped that Baylor’s guys really were clear of the water. “Ready,” Junior said and waited a beat, “fire.”

  The night sky lit up when their first target was hit. Another blast, from Vader, followed, while Killer and Poncho had their backs in case they had unexpected company. She just needed to circle and fire again, and she smiled because the next shot would cut off Chandler’s escape route. “You ready, Junior?”

  “Three, two, one—fire,” Junior said, and she fired the next missile. “Shit.”

  “We can’t have missed,” she said, starting to climb.

  “You didn’t, but the last sub had a chance to fire back,” Junior said, talking fast. “Ten o’clock, they got a missile away.”

  “Cletus, you down another plane, you’re going to get fired, or they’ll dock your pay until you’re two thousand years old,” Vader said. “You need to dive, then come back up.”

  “If you fire on me, make sure you hit the missile,” she said when she dove as low as she could and still recover.

  She pulled back on the throttle and went straight up. The sense of self-control she usually felt in the cockpit was gone. If her men missed, she doubted she would have time to recover and eject. The explosions made her bank to the left to avoid the flying shrapnel.

  “Thanks, guys,” she said as she tried to exhale all her tension.

  “The beer’s on you, Cletus,” Vader said.