by Kymber Jones
Because of You
Covert OPS 1
Kymber Jones
Copyright © 2021 Kymber Jones
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456
Cover design by: Art Painter
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Afterward
Terminology/Credits
About The Author
Books In This Series
Books By This Author
Chapter 1
Laying on her stomach, Crystalline stretched out as far as she could. Keeping her MK20 MOD0 Sniper Support Rifle balanced, Chrys kept her eyes trained on the huts directly in front of her. The rain continued to pour into her eyes, but Chrys refused to let it bother her. The group of men she had been trailing had led her to these run-down huts almost fourteen hours ago, and only twice did three of the men come out to take a leak.
A sharp static noise sounded suddenly, piercing Chrys’s ear.
“What is your status?” A voice asked pompously.
“Who is this?” Chrys demanded as quietly as she could.
“Answer my question. What is your status?”
The annoyance at repeating the question told Chrys precisely who the person on the other side of the line was.
“Schmidt, you need to get your ass off this line immediately. This is for the Team only.”
“Who do you think is in charge of your Team? Now answer my damn question!”
“Schmidt, I swear to God, if you don’t take your ass off of this line, I will make you wish to God you were never born.”
“How dare you threaten me!”
“I dare anything, you Ass. If you know anything about me, you know that. Now, get the hell off this line, and do not think to break this line of silence again. Do you understand me?” Immediately Chrys changed her line of communication. “Base 1, Alpha Point, over.”
“Alpha Point, this is Base 1. Go ahead, over.” She heard replied.
“Someone needs to get off their ass and find Dipshit Schmidt. Make sure he stays the hell off my line. He just broke my line of silence, demanding to know what my status is. If the bastard isn’t careful, he’s going to learn real fast what my status is, and he’s not going to like it.”
“How the hell did he find out where you are?” Stone, the leader of Base 1, and one of Chrys’s Uncles demanded to know.
“That’s a damn good question. I suggest someone find out before the bastard pulls his stunt again and gets either me or one of the captives killed.”
“Speaking of the captives, what is their status?” Stone asked.
“Et tu, Brute?” Chrys questioned, scanning the hut directly in front of her as someone walked in front of the only window.
“I’m family. He’s an ass. I’m allowed to ask.” Stone said, causing Chrys almost to laugh.
“There are five women in the hut to my left, including the Doctor and Nun. The two men are in the hut to my right. Each hut has two captors inside. The hut directly in front of me has five men, and that is where the General is supposed to be when he arrives.”
“So there’s been no sign of the General yet?”
“No. Not yet. But the men say he’s supposed to be here by tonight.”
“Stay alert. We need you to keep safe and make sure you come home to us.”
“Of course. When have I ever failed at my job?”
“Don’t be cocky, and you’ll live to see the end of this day.”
“It’s not cocky. I’m confident. I’ll complete this assignment, and I’ll get the captives out of here. Make sure to have a pickup for us at the designated time.”
“It’ll be there.”
“Good. I have to go now. I’ll report back when I know what’s going on.”
“Chrys? What’s happening?” Stone asked.
“I’m not sure,” Chrys replied. “There’s more movement all of a sudden. I have a couple of the captors moving from one hut to another.”
Suddenly a scream sounded. A captor came out of the hut where the women were kept. He pulled a woman behind him and shoved her to the dirt, forcing her to her knees.
"Hapana! Tafadhali usifanye! Nakuomba tafadhali (No! Please do not! I beg of you please!)!” The captive cried in her native language of Swahili.
"Amka kahaba! Ni wakati umeanza kuonyesha kila mtu vile wewe ni kweli (Get up whore! It's time you started showing everyone what you really are.)."
“Mimi sio kahaba, nakuapia! Mimi ni mke mzuri (I am no whore, I swear to you! I am a good wife!)!”
“Ikiwa wewe ni mke mzuri sana, nionyeshe jinsi unavyomtunza mume wako vizuri (If you are such a good wife, show me how you take good care of your husband!)!”
With that, the captor opened the fly of his pants and withdrew his shriveled penis, shoving it as far down the woman’s mouth as he could force it as the woman begged again for mercy.
Laughing, the captor said, “Angalia, wewe ni kahaba! Ni kahaba tu anayenyonya jogoo wa mtu mwingine isipokuwa mumewe (See, you are a whore! Only a whore sucks the cock of a man other than her husband!)!”
Keeping still, Chrys forced herself not to kill the captor, raping the young woman in front of her, regardless of how much she wanted to.
The General of the Militia group was on his way there, and she had to take him out before she killed this monster and got the captives out to safety.
Four hours passed. The rain barely let up, and Chrys felt like her body was ready to snap; it was wound so tight.
Finally, when she was ready to call the mission a bust and get the captives out of the huts, three jeeps came barreling out of the trees, throwing mud in every direction.
“Base 1, Alpha Point, over,” Chrys spoke quietly.
“Alpha Point, this is Base 1, over.” Stone replied.
“I have a visual on the target. He’s coming in hot, over.”
“Very well. Proceed with the mission as planned. Do you need to alter the extraction time? Over.”
“That’s a negative. Extraction time is still a go. Over.”
“Roger. Extraction time for LZ at 0600. The extraction team will be standing by. Over.” Stone said, letting Chrys know their Landing Zone* was going to be clear.
“Roger. Out.” Chrys signed off, thanking God, or whoever the Higher Being was, that the General was finally showing up. After almost twenty hours of laying out in the mud and rain, not once had she gotten up to use the restroom. Instead, Chrys had to wear one of those damn portable urinals that allowed her the freedom of movement so she could get up or lay down quickly. Now it seemed like Chrys had to go and take that baby off; thank God because no matter how easy those things are, they were always a damn pain in the ass.
Slowly backing out of her spot, Chrys made her way into the trees and dropped her pants. She made quick work of taking off the urinal and sighed softly when it was finally released.
“About d
amn time.” She hissed.
Gathering the urinal up, she wrapped it up and took it to her backpack. Pulling out a biohazard kit, Chrys hastily put the urinal inside the box and made sure it was locked tight before putting it back inside the pack. She picked her gun up again and proceeded to get back into position.
“About damn time the Bastard gets here,” Chrys swore. “Now, let’s see what you get up to, you sonofabitch.”
Careful to watch the jeep with each of the newcomers, Chrys made sure to pay special attention to the middle jeep, which had the General. Who was it that came up with the idea to put the most crucial person in the middle of the group? Especially when the group was spread out ten feet or more? What kind of protection did that provide?
When they made their way to the middle hut, Chrys watched as the General gave the men he was with their orders before heading inside. Once he was inside the house, men started scampering around, shouting and screaming at each other, trying to impress the General by behaving as if they had been doing things of fundamental importance throughout the day.
Not one to be fooled by the grandiose of those working for him, the General quickly called for order and got everyone under control.
"Kimya! Wanaume wangapi wako nje kwenye doria (Quiet! How many men are out on patrol?)?” The General demanded.
The leader of the men inside the hut replied, "Tuna wanaume wanne wakifanya doria: wawili mbele na wawili nyuma. Wanazunguka kila masaa sita (We have four men out patrolling: two in front and two in the back. They rotate every eight hours.).”
“Weka kila mtu huko nje kwenye doria. Tunaondoka kwa saa 0000. Wale waliopo zamu sasa watakuja baada ya masaa manne kupumzika (Put every man out there on patrol. We leave at 0000 hours. Those on duty now will come off in four hours for rest.).”
"Ondoka? Tayari? Bosi, tumefika tu. Wanaume wamepumzika na kufurahi na kahaba kadhaa (Leave? Already? Boss, we just got here. The men are resting and having some fun with a couple of whores.)."
Instantly the General became angry. How dare this ingrate question him!
"Mimi ndiye bosi! Hutaniuliza maswali! Kwa kutokuwa na msimamo, utatoka nje na kufanya doria (I am the boss! You do not question me! For your impertinence, you will go out and perform the patrol!)!"
Listening to the men shout at each other, Chrys softly relayed what she was listening to back to Base.
“Brat, repeat that last thing you said for me,” Stone told her.
“I said you need to change the time for extraction. I have to have the captives out of here as soon as it’s dark, which means I am moving my time up by four hours. The General wants to be on the move by 0000 hours. I have to take him out as soon as it’s dark and he’s alone.”
“Very well. Keep us updated. And stay safe.”
“Always. Love you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, Brat,” Stone said gruffly, though the love in his voice was evident to everyone around him.
Shortly before dark, Chrys saw the General step out of the hut he was in and stagger to the side to take a leak. When he was done, he stumbled back inside and made his way to the first cot, where he passed out with a bottle of liquor held loosely in his hands.
After watching the activity inside the hut, Chrys finally realized all of the men inside the tiny house were unconscious. This was the opening she was waiting for.
Quickly Chrys made her way to the center hut. She wasn’t too worried about any of the men supposedly walking the perimeter, they were all too busy getting drunk off in the distance, and very shortly, they too would be passing out. Right now, she was concerned about two people, and those people were sprawled out in front of her, one as naked as the day he was born, holding a jar of whiskey in his hands.
Keeping as quiet as she could, Chrys walked up to the General. Pulling out her favorite hand toy, the Mark 3 (MKIII), better known as the Ka-Bar, she walked to the General’s side and looked down at him for less than a minute. Chrys fell in love with her toy when she was little more than a baby. With a blade of 6.5” at 0.165” thick, it was practically a game to see if those raising her could teach her the fundamentals of using such a weapon at five years of age. Now, at seventeen, using the Ka-Bar was no more than entertainment at afternoon tea, so Chrys would say the lessons were a smash.
Without a sound, Chrys leaned over and slit the General’s throat, giving him a smile that reached from one ear to the other. Then, without looking, she immediately turned to the man that raped the woman earlier in the day. She slit the second man’s throat, only this time she walked down between his legs and roughly grabbed his crotch where she made quick work of cutting his family jewels off through his cargo pants. When she held them in her hand, Chrys put them on his chest for everyone to see after they woke up. Let them know what happens to bastards that rape defenseless women when she’s around, Chrys thought savagely.
Once the men were dead, Chrys made her way to the hut which held the women. Opening the door, Chrys looked inside and confirmed the men were still passed out. Inside, she pulled out a SIG-Sauer P228 with a silencer from the back of her pants. Walking to where the men were sleeping, she shot each of them twice: once in the heart and once in the head.
The women were huddled in the back corner against each other, trying to rest, but fear kept them jumping at the least little sound.
When they saw Chrys enter the hut, one of the women started to cry out, but Chrys quickly reassured them.
"Kimya (Quiet!)!" Chrys told the women firmly in Swahili, only one of the eighteen languages she and the other Triple D’s were forced to learn growing up for situations just like this. “Niko na Jeshi la Wanamaji la Amerika. Niko hapa kukuondoa mahali hapa. Ninahitaji usimame, ukae kimya, na uje nami haraka. Je! Unanielewa (I'm with the US Navy. I'm here to get you away from this place. I need you to stand up, stay quiet, and come with me quickly. Do you understand me?)?” Chrys asked them.
All the women nodded, too stunned to speak.
"Nzuri. Twende. Tunapaswa kuwapata wanaume na tuondoke (Good. Let's go. We have to get the men and leave.).”
Turning, Chrys led the women outside and made her way to the hut holding the men hostage. She did the same thing by killing the two guards while they also laid passed out drunk, then turned to face the captives.
“Do either of you speak English?” She asked them.
“Oui, un peu (Yes, a little.).” One of the men replied, which caused Chrys to look at him skeptically, then realized he was the French Doctor who worked in the village.
In too big of a hurry, Chrys just repeated everything she told the women. When she asked if the men understood, they nodded and stood up.
As they were about to leave, the man Chrys spoke to surprised her by asking, “Et l'Anglais dans l'arrière-salle? Il est malade, il ne peut pas partir d'ici tout seul (What about the Englishman in the back room? He's sick. He can't leave here on his own.).”
“There’s another man here?” Chrys didn’t bother translating her question; she was so shocked.
“Yes. British SAS, I believe.”
“Shit!” Chrys swore. “D'accord, je vais le faire sortir. Si l'un de vous pouvait aider, ce serait formidable, mais il ne reste pas ici (Okay, I’ll get him out. If one of you could help, that would be great, but he's not staying here.).”
“Je peux aider. Je ne peux pas le porter loin, mais je peux au moins l'aider (I can help. I can't carry him far, but I can help at least.).”
“Ce n'est pas nécessaire. Je peux réellement le faire passer la plupart du temps. J'ai juste besoin d'aide pour certaines dès manœuvres s'il parvient à franchir des rochers ou des arbres. Maintenant, récupérons-le et sortons d'ici. Nous avons bientôt sortir d'ici (No need. I can actually get him through most of the way. I just need help with some of the maneuvers if he can’t get over rocks or trees. Now, let's get him and get out of here. We need to be out of here, soon.).”
Hurrying into the second room, a drape separating the living space into two different portions, Chrys s
aw the man the captive was speaking about.
Touching a hand to the man’s head, Chrys swore again.
“I’m US Navy. I’m here to get you out,” she told him, seeing that his eyes were open, watching her.
“Oh, Bugger.” He muttered. “Now I know I’ve died and gone to Hell.”
“Excuse me?” Chrys asked.
“A bloody slip of a Yank thinks she’s going to save me? Is this for real?”
“How about I let you play with my favorite toy just to make you feel better. Will that make you happy?” Chrys asked, smiling just a bit.
“And what the bloody hell would that be? A Barbie? G.I. Jane style?”
Chrys reached into her boot and pulled out her MKIII, handing it over. “Now, be nice, or I may have to take it away from you.”
Upon seeing the knife, the man’s eyes grew wide, and a wicked grin spread across his face. “Like bloody hell, you will.”
“That’s what I thought you’d say. Now, are you feeling up to getting out of here? We’re leaving now. I’ll help you along the way as needed.”
“Just point me where we need to go. I’ll make it one way or another.”
“Good. Everything’s ready. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
Reaching out, Chrys helped the man stand up. Once on his feet, he swayed for a couple of seconds then managed to stand without any difficulties.
“You good?” Chrys asked.
“I’m good.”
“Alright. What’s your name?”
“Captain Roger Thurgood, part of Her Majesty’s Special Air Service. Who might you be?”
“Captain Crystalline Hopkins, US Navy. But everyone calls me Devastation.”
“As in one of the Triple D’s? The Triple D’s are nothing but children’s stories the different branches tell their recruit’s when they join the Special OPS.”
Chrys gave a small laugh as she helped the Captain walk, leading the captives behind them to her stash.
“Do I look like a damn made-up story to you?” She wanted to know. “Last I knew, I was made of blood, sweat, and tears, just like every other asshole out there.”
