by Alex Howell
A Gift For You:
“War brought me in. Will love push me out?.”
It’s like breathing. I don’t even need to try.
I was born to be a Navy Seal.
I knew it was my calling and wasted no time in joining up.
My training. My missions. My team.
I love every bit of it.
But I never knew I would ever want this...
A calm, quiet day. Away from it all, including my brothers.
Just to be with her. Bree.
The thought of her name makes my knees weak.
How could someone have so much power over me?
The navy didn’t prepare me for this.
And I never thought making a choice could be so hard.
What do you do when love is standing between you and the country you vowed to protect?
War brought me in. Will love push me out?
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The Mason Walker Bundle (7 - 9)
Alex Howell
Copyright © 2019 by Alex Howell
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Crisis Meltdown
War Cry
Raining Bullets
A Message To My Readers
Don’t Forget About Your Gift
Prologue
Every Opus has it’s Day
As she toured the hallowed ground of the Vatican, Clara Walker believed that she was in the midst of a grand and exciting vacation. But her father Mason, and his girlfriend Raina who accompanied them, knew that the pleasant idea of vacationing in Rome was just a subtle little ruse used to mask the truth. Because Mason and Raina were not simply sightseeing tourists, they were special agents on a mission to track down terrorists.
Since the early 2020’s a shadowy Catholic extremist group known simply as, “The Blood” had been nurturing radical enclaves all throughout Western Europe, but primarily centered around Italy. The group held fast to a far-right ideology that believed the Catholic Church had become too progressive and secular. These reactionary extremists wished for the Catholic Church to turn back the clock and go back to what they viewed to be its hardline roots.
These ideologues called for a “new crusade” in the form of a grand inquisition. They called for a purging of the ranks through what they called a “baptism in blood” in order to pull the rest of the world’s Catholics into a more militant state. They were looking to stir up what they believed to be a hive of latent religious fervor. And they were going about their provocation in the worst ways imaginable.
In the previous year the group had committed the unthinkable, when they had one of their henchmen detonate an explosive device lined with the deadly Ebola virus, right in the middle of downtown Rome. The target had actually been the Pope’s very residence in the Vatican. This carnage was only averted by a quick-thinking cab driver, who managed to spare the Papal grounds by diverting the attacker to Rome’s busy downtown district instead.
The Pope and the Cardinals of Vatican City were spared, but the shoppers and tourists of Rome proper were not. This was quite a traumatic event for Europe and shocking for anyone who heard of it overseas. And even though Clara thought that they were simply visiting Italy on vacation, she had been following the story on the news. She also wasn’t blind. She could tell just how shaken up the general populace was even months after the fact.
The events of September 11th, 2001 occurred before Clara was born, but anyone old enough to recall the dark days in New York immediately after the attack, would recognize the same kind of fear in the faces of the citizens of Rome. And as they passed through the ornate halls of the Sistine Chapel, she saw that the men standing guard outside, as well as the museum curators and docents inside, all had protective surgical masks on their faces.
As they stopped to take a look at an ancient mural on one of the chapel’s walls, she inquired with her father about it. Clara asked, “Hey dad—that Ebola stuff has cleared up by now hasn’t it?”
Mason nodded, “Yeah—it should be.”
Clara then pointed toward one of the curators who was busy shepherding some photo snapping tourists away from a delicate set of statues. When her father looked over to where she was pointing, she remarked, “Then what’s with all the people in surgical masks?”
Mason shrugged, “Probably just trying to be careful—but there really isn’t anything to worry about.”
He wanted to reassure his daughter, but at the same time Mason couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of guilt. Because deep down, he knew that it wasn’t completely safe at all. Even if the last Ebola outbreak had been cleared out, as long as these extremists were at large, there was no telling when or where they might strike next.
Contrary to what Clara believed, this was in fact the reason why they were in Italy. Although she was led to assume that the trip was a last-minute hurrah before she began her Fall semester back at Stanford University, the real reason Mason and Raina embarked upon this “surprise” trip was because vital intel needed to be gathered about the terror cell that had struck Italy.
That’s not to say that Mason didn’t intend to see some sights and make the best of the trip. This was why he brought Clara along with him in the first place. He had learned a long time ago to try to take as many liberties as he could from his globetrotting missions abroad. It could be that they turn up nothing, and in that case, at least they had a decent vacation together all the same.
After Mason’ allayed Clara’s fears about any lingering Ebola, Clara seemed to dispel the notion outright. And spotting Raina coming around the corner back from her bathroom break, she shifted gears completely. Seeing her she shouted, “Raina! For a second I thought you got lost!”
Raina stepping towards them laughed, “Uh—no. The Sistine bathroom stalls aren’t like the catacombs, I’m not going to get lost in them.”
Mason always ready to give Raina a good ribbing, seconded his daughter as he teased, “Well it took you long enough. I thought you might have fell in!”
Raina suppressed a smile as she playfully punched Mason in the arm and told him, “Funny big guy. Real funny.”
Clara, who had downed several cans of diet coke and bottles of water during the course of the day, apparently had a vested interest in the bathroom, prompting her to question Raina, “How is the bathroom anyway?”
Mason not quite understanding the need to size up a public restroom, gave his daughter a quizzically look as he asked, “We came here to see Rome and the thing that you are most interested in is the bathroom?”
Raina glancing at Mason rolled her eyes, then looked sympathetically to Clara as she remarked, “That’s just like a man isn’t?”
Clara laughed and nodded knowingly, “Yeah.”
Mason not quite getting it, shook his head, “What? You guys have some inside running joke going that I just don’t know about?”
Raina shrugged and informed him, “Well I really don’t expect you to understand Mason—all you have to do is stand.”
Mason raised an eyebrow, “Stand?”
Raina laughed, “That’s right. When you use the john all you have to do is stand, but us ladies just have to be a bit more careful where we sit!”
Mason finally reading between the lines, chuckled, “Oh okay sure. I guess you got me there.”
It was Raina’s turn to read even further between the lines howeve
r when she looked over to see a Cardinal quickly ushered to the side by a member of the Sistine Chapel’s security detail. Mason followed her line of sight and immediately realized what she was thinking.
As if the two were gifted with telepathy Mason then spoke what Raina was already about to suggest. And in the most sedate, and fatherly voice possible, he told Clara, “Hey—if you have to go to the bathroom Clara, just go ahead and go. And have Raina go with you.”
Clara folding her arms across her chest, protested, “Dad—I’m not 2 years old! I don’t need an escort to the bathroom!”
Mason was barely even paying attention to his daughter’s disdain. And was literally looking right past her, desperate to keep an eye on the Sistine guard and the Cardinal. Raina fortunately intervened, and tapping Clara on the arm told her, “No—seriously, I don’t mind. Come on let’s go.”
Clara always feeling obliged to listen to Raina acquiesced, “Alright—let’s go.”
Raina then kept Clara busy with inconsequential small talk as the two disappeared into the Sistine Chapel’s lady’s room. Mason taking his cue, then quickly marched over to the Cardinal, just as he heard the guard shout at the man, “Father Roberto—it’s just not safe! We have to figure out what to do about them!”
The Cardinal seeing Mason approach then loudly cleared his throat as if to alert the guard to his presence. The guard turned around and demanded, “Is there something I can help you with sir?”
Mason grinned at the man, “I couldn’t help but overhear your concerns about safety.” The guard then frowned at Mason, as he muttered, “What?”
Mason flashed his badge identifying him as a contractor for military intelligence and informed them, “It’s alright guys. You don’t have to be skittish. I’ve been assigned to this case.”
Cardinal Roberto then stepped forward and scrutinized Mason’s ID, remarking, “You work for the Pentagon?”
Mason nodded, “Yes sir. I work for a group of contractors called Onyx.”
To which the priest snorted halfway derisively, “Contractors?”
Mason didn’t like the welcome he was receiving, but he had grown to expect it. Ever since the days of Blackwater when contractors had run amuck in Iraq during the 2000’s and 2010’s, he knew full well that much faith had been lost when it came to any freelancers assigned to a job.
And as if Roberto could read his very mind, the Cardinal shook his head in disgust, as he sarcastically quipped “So the CIA has resorted to freelancers huh? I see that they really take pride in their work. Wonderful.”
Mason getting annoyed barked back, “Look, I don’t care whether you respect my particular form of vocation or not. But I’m here to get some answers all the same. So, I would like for you to tell me just what it is that has you guys so worried about safety, okay?”
Mason then looked at the guard who had initially relayed the concern and demanded, “So why don’t you both make nice for the dumb American here, and tell me what the hell is going on?”
The guard speaking in fluent English, with just the faintest hint of an Italian accent, shrugged, “Okay… okay… You don’t have to get upset with us.”
He then cleared his throat as he extended a hand and offered, “My names Franco by the way—I’m the chief security officer here.”
Mason was glad the guard was coming around, but halfway annoyed at the formalities grunted back, “I’m Mason—nice to meet you.”
Franco then gave a headlong glance down one of the halls of the chapel and remarked, “We’ve got all kinds of characters that come through here.”
Mason raised an eyebrow, “Alright and just what do you mean by that?”
Franco sighed, “We have many good people visit us to be sure. But many fanatics of all stripes as well. And among them sometimes it is exceedingly hard to tell the simply eccentric, from the truly dangerous.”
The Cardinal then broke his silence by elaborating, “Let’s be clear here—he’s talking about Opus Dei.”
The mention of the secretive Catholic organization got Mason’s attention. He didn’t know a whole lot about this chapter of the church but he knew that they were shrouded in mystery and steeped in controversy.
Mason inquired, “Opus Dei?”
Cardinal Roberto nodded, “Yes.” The Cardinal sighed, “Don’t get me wrong—many good people come out of Opus Dei. The platform was originally meant to celebrate the sanctification of the average person.”
Mason may not have known much about Opus Dei, but he knew enough to know that in recent years, through persistent right leaning leadership they had become more and more openly hostile to those that disagreed with them. Thinking as much, Mason remarked rather cynically, “They help sanctify the average person with the support of right-wing governments.”
It was true that Opus Dei were a group of Catholic fundamentalists that quite frequently had become entangled with right wing politics. The group had been founded after all in Madrid, during the heyday of fascist Spain.
The good Cardinal was quick to brush off such assertions however, telling him, “Yes, some fall into that trap… but most are simply focused on bettering themselves.”
Mason wishing to get to the point then challenged, “Okay—so what does any of this have to do with the terrorists who attacked Rome?”
It was now the security chief Franco’s turn to speak up, “We have had some Opus Dei people warning us that members—” Franco trailed off before lowering his voice to a near whisper, “—that members of The Blood have been siphoning off some of their congregants.”
The mention of the nefarious group of terrorists that had caused so much chaos in the world as well as Mason’s own personal life, made his own blood boil, as he hissed, “Really?”
Franco added, “We don’t have any proof mind you, but our informants at Opus Dei have told us enough to make us very concerned.”
Mason nodded, “I see.”
Just then he heard rushed footsteps and Clara’s voice behind him, as she called out, “Dad! What are you doing over there?”
Mason wishing to conceal his true purpose quickly put his badge back in his pocket. And with a wink at the Cardinal, he lied, “Oh nothing, the good father here was just letting me know when the next guided tour of the Sistine Chapel will take place.”
Clara asked, “He was? Okay so when is it?”
The Cardinal frowned, and completely unsure how to respond began to open his mouth—before Mason answered for him, “It starts right about now. You ready to show us around Father?”
Raina and Clara stared at the priest expectantly. Finally, with a bit of a smile playing across his face at the audacity of the American, the Cardinal answered, “Sure—right this way.”
1
Getting Settled In
A few weeks later, on a California highway heading for Standford
Clara sat in the middle row seat of an SUV behind her father Mason and his girlfriend Rana. Staring at the brightly lit computer screen console of the high-tech, brand new SUV he was driving, she remarked, “Dad way to go on the upgrade—this is so much better than the truck!”
It was a joyous reference to her father’s recent change of vehicles, and “the truck” was in reference to the old manually driven pickup truck that her father had previously insisted on embarrassing her with. You can call him old school if you like but Mason was one of the rare few drivers that still preferred the feel of steering a car on his own without AI assistance.
And as he sat helplessly behind the computer console of the AI driven SUV, he was quick to remind his daughter, “It’s just temporary Clara—because “the truck” is due for an oil change. I’ll be back behind the wheel soon enough.”
Clara rolled her eyes, “Wonderful… I can’t wait...”
Raina then turned toward Clara and asked, “So are you ready to get back to Stanford?”
Clara sighed, “I suppose...”
Prompting Raina to inquire, “Oh—come on. That didn’t sound too enthu
siastic.”
Mason too—freed from driving by the onboard AI of his vehicle—turned to ask, “Alright, what’s up Clara? Just why are you so glum chum?”
Clara intoned softly, “It’s just that I’ve had so much fun with you guys over the summer and I just know that once I’m buried in my books at Stanford and you guys are busy with your work on the East Coast—we are going to drift apart.”
Mason looking at his daughter with a hint of sadness, attempted to reassure her, “Hey—I know it’s going to be different. But I’ll be up here as much as I can and you can call and text me whenever you want.”
Clara not seeming entirely convinced, sighed, “I know… It’s just hard to balance those two parts of my life.”
It was after this sobering statement that Clara noticed the car making a slight detour as they approached the campus of Stanford. Clara staring at the GPS of the car’s computer console remarked, “Hey—Stanford is back that way. Where are we going?”
Mason then glanced over to a smiling Raina and informed Clara, “Well—Raina’s got a little surprise for you, kiddo.”
A FEW MINUTES LATER AT A FULLY AUTOMATED RETAIL STORE. After her father checked in with front desk security, Clara accompanied by Raina stepped into the large warehouse sized shopping space.
Clara looking out at aisle upon aisle of merchandise gasped, “Oh my gosh… This is the biggest Go-Store I have ever seen.”
Raina then put her hand on Clara’s shoulder and told her, “Well what do you expect? You’ve got to spruce up your new home on campus somehow. You probably need new curtains, clothing bedding—all kinds of stuff.”
