All these guys were former military. It showed in the way they held their heads up, their shoulders back. The way they bantered. Each of them had come with a strikingly beautiful woman. And kids. The three little girls with Zack had to be his. The woman, too. Long, sleek black hair, blunt cut and swinging. Had to be Mei. Which made the girls’ names LiLi, Song, and MiKi, if Walker remembered right.
Still on his back and out of sight, Walker scrambled into his swim trunks. Persia had already stepped beyond the curtain of stately sea oats and called out, “Hey Boss! What’s going on? Did I miss a memo?”
Walker left the blanket where it lay, but ducked into the bungalow with the glasses and beer. He grabbed a shirt and buttoned up, ready to face his new world. Back outside again, he shielded his eyes with one hand to his brow and faced an impressive group of…
Was that Senator Sullivan? Julio Juarez and Meg and… Trevor Duncan? Baffled, and more than a little emotional at the show of force now mixing it up on Persia’s beach, Walker ran a hand over his head. They were all here. Once again, they’d come. Alex’s TEAM. Persia’s friends. His friends. They were all here.
The dark-haired man with the blue-eyed blonde tucked under his arm and five little dark-haired girls lined up behind him like ducklings, had to be Mark Houston. Julio and Meg had just climbed off the third pontoon boat. The giggling little guy they were swinging between them was… Walker’s throat tightened. Dominic! He looked so damned good.
A hard knot swelled in Walker’s chest. His lungs struggled for a breath he couldn’t seem to draw. The last time he’d seen that little boy, Dominic had been in sickbay aboard the Iwo Jima and diagnosed with tuberculosis. He’d been near death, not expected to live. But look at the mischievous grin on that little tyke’s face now. And he was fat. Chubby!
Persia turned back then, her eyes big and glimmering and tender. Running to Walker, she pressed her body to his side. “We have company, honey.”
“I see that,” he stammered, his jaw tight to keep his eyes from watering.
“It’s about damned time!” Alex boomed. “Welcome home, Walker Judge!”
Oh, hell. Not that.
As if they’d been coached, every kid on the beach called out a boisterous chorus of, “Welcome home, Uncle Walker! We missed you!”
A thunderous roar of adults followed. “Welcome home, Lieutenant Judge!”
Jesus. He was an uncle. And he was falling apart.
Walker turned his back on all these people. Not today. Not now.
Persia’s arm slipped warm and strong around his waist. “The TEAM’s kids call us aunts and uncles,” she whispered. “We’re family, Walker.”
“I can’t,” he choked. “Man, I… Persia, I just can’t.”
All he’d lost these last couple years roared over him like wildfire. He’d been running too long, an unwelcome cur in the only land he’d ever loved enough to die for. Made out to be a pariah by the greedy, self-serving press. Unwanted and disbelieved by Americans everywhere. Wrongly accused and condemned. Lied about. Slandered. A man so damned alone, he hadn’t realized until now how much he craved being back in the land of the noble free. Of belonging to something bigger and far greater than the Navy. Of being home. Damn it, he missed his mom and dad and Kenny.
A big hand landed in the middle of his back at the same time a crazed, scruffy dog nearly knocked him over. Rover! Brim! “Hey,” Walker ground out, his eyes watering plenty now. He dashed the back of his hand over his face, but knew he hadn’t done it fast enough to fool Brimley.
“Good to see you again, son.” Brim always had a way of getting inside Walker’s heart. He’d trimmed his hair and mustache.
Blinking like a damned sissy, Walker looked his friend in the eye. “I still owe you for storing my yacht.”
“Friends don’t owe friends nuthin’,” he growled as he draped an arm around Walker’s neck, pulled him out of Persia’s arms and into a bro hug that quickly turned fatherly.
Walker couldn’t seem to let his buddy go. A stupid sob retched out of his throat. His dad would’ve loved being here for this reunion. But since he wasn’t...
“Shhhhh,” Brim breathed into the side of Walker’s head. “It’s okay. It’s all right. Welcome home,” said the man who’d probably never heard those words when he’d returned from Vietnam.
“I can’t do this,” Walker ground out.
“Sure you can. You just turn yourself around, and you tell these nice folks, hey. It’ll come natural after that. Seems to me these people came a long way to see you. They care about you. Give it a try. Just say hey. Then thanks. See what happens.”
Walker swallowed the hard knot in his throat and nodded. He’d walked into danger, enemy fire, and sheer hell in foreign lands. He’d killed terrorists with his gloved hands. But coming home to America and facing people who were actually glad to see him? Incredibly difficult.
So… with Brim on one side, Persia against his other, Walker turned and faced his new boss and the amazing TEAM Alex had brought with him. And all those kids. Damned if Senator Sullivan hadn’t just stepped off the deck of another arriving pontoon boat. He’d brought the three Sin Boys with him. Two of their wives. Smoke Montoya and his wife and kid! Who wasn’t here?
Kenny, that was who. Mom and Dad. The people Walker loved the most and the ones he would have gladly died for. The pain of losing them rose sharp and deep, unrecognized until now. He was home, but they weren’t here anymore, were they? Once again, the loss of them swamped him. Shit, he had to get a handle on his emotions.
Persia leaned up on tiptoes and planted a warm kiss to his cheek. “This is the more I was talking about. I want a family, Hotrod. I want kids and a home and forever. With you.”
Which was precisely what his proposal had been about. Not just him and her. Not just romance and making love. Not just buying a house together or skinny dipping off the side of Persia Smiles. But this damned big family. Maybe some were missing, like his folks and Kenny, Ryder and the guys. But a few of the people here had gone to Ireland and Portugal just to be there for him. They’d worked on his behalf before he’d even known they existed. This TEAM, these people, had already signed up to be his family.
And more were on the way judging by the size of the baby bump Alex’s wife sported. Man, she was pretty. All these men’s wives were, but none were as beautiful as Persia.
Walker turned to her, took hold of her slender hand, and did as Brim suggested. All he said was, “Thanks.”
It came out hoarse and raspy, no more than a whisper. But the beach exploded into cheers and squeals and a bustle of activity. The line of fireworks someone had set-up along the shoreline exploded into sparks and whistles, pops, booms, and sizzles overhead. Several kids took off, chasing each other as if they played here all the time.
In the middle of the organized mayhem, Walker dropped to one knee and pressed his lips to Persia’s knuckles. Tugging the ring out of his pocket, he slid it onto her finger. “I can’t promise you blue skies and easy times, princess,” he declared. “Life doesn’t work that way. But I can promise I’ll love you forever. Will you marry me?”
Her breath caught at the sight of the glittering rock on her finger, then quickly, those deep, dark browns brimmed with tears. “Yes, Hotrod. I’ll love you until the day I die. Then…” she breathed. “I’ll love you forever after that.”
And Persia smiled.
Epilogue
Peering through the narrow lens of his high-powered scope, Walker zeroed down on the stubby man crossing Tiananmen Square, headed to the Forbidden City in the heart of Beijing, China. Wearing a black woolen overcoat and the same color bowler hat, Mr. Su Chen Fong reminded Walker of Oddjob, Goldfinger’s evil assassin and manservant in the 1959 “James Bond” novel. Short. Squat. Ugly as the sins he committed upon the bodies of countless, unknown, little girls.
Walker knew a cold-blooded killer when he saw one. Fong walked with his head up and with more attitude and a
rrogance than Oddjob ever had. Tourists scurried out of his way. Some actually bowed at the man who’d ordered and paid for Emily Dooley’s little body. He had yet to acknowledge they breathed the same air. To him, tourists were mere peasants underfoot, while he, an emperor in his own mind, suffered their presence.
Dusk arrived early in autumn. It was nearly time for lowering the Chinese flag. Walker lay beside Persia, his cheek snug against the buttstock of his sniper rifle, his eye never leaving his target. They were hidden from sight, both on their bellies, trapped high within a maze of construction scaffolding overlooking the southern entrance to the Forbidden City. An impressively large photo of Chairman Mao hung there, as if he still guarded the ancient treasure.
Tiananmen Square was oriented north to south, the Forbidden City taking up the northern most end. Mao’s impressive picture graced the entrance. The flag-lowering ceremony took place to the immediate south of his picture. Tonight’s crowd was thick. The color guard looked as stiff as the ancient Terracotta Warriors. Tourists were plentiful. Security, as well. There was no place on earth more closely watched, patrolled, or guarded by armed and undercover policemen. Which made this operation almost fun.
“He’s nearly in position,” Persia breathed.
“I’m on him,” Walker assured his wife. He’d never had a better spotter. Sharp-eyed and accurate to a fault, he also got to sleep with this one.
After his rowdy welcome home beach party with The TEAM, Walker and Persia had spent a week with her parents in Mississippi, where they’d been married by a Justice of the Peace in Persia’s parents’ front yard.
After a reception of mega-proportions, they’d then traveled on to Norfolk, Virginia, where they’d visited now four-year-old Emily at her parents’ home. Never again would she be the innocent, wide-eyed cherub who’d once believed in Big Bird, the Tooth Fairy, and Santa. Poor thing suffered severe separation anxiety from what she’d lived through, along with night terrors, and killer migraines. She’d been clinging to her mom when Quinn’s wife Luciana had first opened the door.
Yet when Emily had seen Walker again, she’d smiled shyly. She’d been hiding behind a well-loved fuzzy blanket and sucking her thumb, yet she’d reached for him, then snuggled under his chin. He’d been so damned humbled at the way she’d still trusted him when he’d taken her in his arms. It’d been hard not to cry.
To hide his emotions, Walker had bowed his head and breathed the flowery scent of her shampoo. It hadn’t helped that Persia had been teary-eyed and wiping her face as much as Luciana Dooley had been wiping hers. But holding that delicate little-girl body once more, and knowing Emily was home and safe, that two fierce Doberman Pincers and a top-notch security system protected her and her family, made every second of the misery that Peckering and Goff had put him through, worth it. Walker knew he’d do it again. In a heartbeat.
Emily Quinn was the reason he and Persia were where they here today. Justice might be deaf and blind, but Walker wasn’t, and neither was Alex. He’d signed off on this op without batting an eye. It was Walker’s first TEAM op, his first time inside Communist China, aka the People’s Republic of China. But it wouldn’t be the last.
Officer Bruno and Renzo had already gotten their comeuppance, albeit not the way Walker would have preferred. They hadn’t suffered enough in his book. Senator Sullivan had assured Walker that Goff was about to get his just rewards, a couple former NCIS officers, too. But the buyers of all the other sad little girls would forever stay free, unknown, and untouchable. That just wasn’t right. They were the real monsters who powered this modern-day Black Plague, as Alex called human-trafficking. They were the seemingly unstoppable force behind every illicit transaction, every assault and perversion, every sweet child’s death. More than anyone else in this disgusting business, they needed to be brought out of the shadows and held accountable.
But not Mr. Su Chen Fong. He’d never once hid his perverse appetite in shadows. Which meant the lucky bastard was finally going to get what he deserved—in public.
“It’s definitely Fong,” Persia breathed, as her unique rangefinder’s optics verified the sixty-eight landmarks of her target’s facial geometry. Ember had already matched the man’s handwriting against his written purchase orders. Goff’s meticulous record-keeping, his way of covering his ass in case his buyers turned remorseful, had provided Fong’s location.
“Proof positive?” Walker asked the very capable Mrs. Walker Judge. He loved that she’d taken his name instead of the hyphenated version so popular today.
“Yes, but wait until he stops and bows. That’ll be your best angle.”
Walker and Persia had observed Fong for days. Every morning, he strolled from his plush apartment a mile from the Square to attend the sunrise and dusk flag ceremonies. Which had made him a very easy and predictable target.
Walker had once told Alex and Zack that he couldn’t save every child caught up in human trafficking. But he could prevent this bastard from deflowering the little girl now caged inside his bedroom. If the current schedule held, Zack already had her.
Walker knew everything about Fong. How the children delivered to his residence were never seen again. How many he went through each month. Every year. How he preferred virgins, the younger, the better. But Walker also knew what the kinetic energy from a fifty caliber round did to flesh and bone. He knew how to blend in after a hit. How to fade to black. So did Persia.
“He’s almost there,” she whispered. “Get ready, honey.”
Walker stilled, holding his breath pending his wife’s next command. He’d only end Fong once he knew for certain his backstop was clear. Just one person needed to die today.
“Do it,” she breathed.
Walker fired, then hurriedly jumped to his knees without watching Fong’s demise. In seconds, he’d dismantled his weapon, and slid the pieces into the large, hollow pipe that comprised this section of scaffolding.
“You got him,” Persia confirmed the hit.
Walker hadn’t needed to look to know that his round struck true. Fong was dead the second he’d unleashed the power behind that fifty-cal round. But they did need to hurry. The rifle pieces wouldn’t be found until much later, if ever. By then, Fong’s remains would’ve been cremated, and the Judges would be back in the USA. Better yet, the world would be a tiny bit safer for little girls.
Some woman in the Square below screamed. Someone else yelled. Sirens shrilled outside and within the walls. A weapon fired, probably an overzealous guard taking down some unwitting soul who’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Let’s do it,” Walker told Persia as she finished breaking down her rangefinder, then plinked its cylindrical pieces into another larger than normal scaffold pipe. Zack had prepared for this day well. But the hotel would soon be swarming with security, as would every other building within miles of the Square. They had to hurry.
Side-by-side, they fast-roped to ground level, then ran down the alley beside the hotel, dodging construction supplies and heavy equipment. Two blocks over, they turned toward the Square. While they ran, Persia removed a violet-fringed coolie hat from her brightly colored shopping bag, placed it on her head, then tied its violet ribbon under her chin. She’d already turned her jacket inside out, converting it from black to bright purple, the American tourist look. He tore his black TEAM polo off, revealing the white t-shirt with a smiling Mickey Mouse beneath. His polo went inside the jacket draped over his shoulder. His other arm went around Persia.
Walker’s heart-pounding strides matched hers. He swallowed hard at the enormity of the crime he’d just committed. With his new wife, no less. Somehow that ranked right up there with Bonnie and Clyde’s crime-spree during the Great Depression. Yet they’d been stone-cold-killers, who murdered innocent people for the thrill of it. Walker had merely taken down a known pedophile no one else could’ve reached, and Persia hadn’t killed anyone. Despite the very real possibility they’d be killed if they
were caught, possibly after being tortured, she’d just been his spotter.
They were both running for their lives. But when she laced her fingers with his, her eyes twinkled. She loved what she did for The TEAM and the world, and it showed all over her pretty face. Walker hadn’t thought he could fall more in love, but he did, right there, in the middle of Communist China.
He had to admit she was safer working for Alex than she’d ever been with the Bureau or the Agency. He stood rock-solid by his team. He protected them, fought for them, and without a doubt, Alex would die for his TEAM. He might be as rough as a battle-ax at times, and he could certainly be a flaming ass at the drop of a dime, but he’d never send a lone man or woman into a hellhole like Zapata’s lair. The TEAM was his family. His friends. They were Walker’s now, too.
If Alex had been tasked to bring Domingo Zapata down, he would’ve sent his entire TEAM to Brazil, not just Persia. He might’ve caused an international incident doing that, but office scuttlebutt told how Agent Seth McCray’s foray into Cuba had already done just that. Then there was the gunfight in Mexico between Mark Houston, Rory Dennison, and some now defunct drug cartel a couple years back. As well as the terse face-off between Alex and some North Korean navy captain, the time Adam crash landed in the Pacific with four of Paul Reagan’s much-touted, yet totally bogus, drones. Each one of those operations had created significant international incidents, yet Alex didn’t seem to care. He took care of his people, and he was damned proud of it. There was no stopping the guy. He should’ve been a SEAL.
“On your six,” Zack Lennox rasped tersely over Walker’s earpiece. “Slow down, guys. We’re almost done. Don’t blow it now.”
Breathing hard, Walker settled into an easy stroll, still holding his wife’s hand. “You’ve got her?” he asked, surprised at Zack’s uncharacteristic snark.
Today’s plan had been two-pronged. While Zack removed Fong’s latest feminine acquisition from his locked apartment, Team Judge terminated the pedophile in public. After which, all TEAM assets were to meet at a previously designated point for extraction. From Beijing, they’d travel into Cambodia. The stealth helo was already on standby for a speedy exfil. All Walker and Persia needed was to get the hell away from Tiananmen Square alive.
Walker (In the Company of Snipers Book 21) Page 42
