Hunting Ghosts

by Brent Towns

  “Yeah, right.”

  “The second mission was in Sierra Leone. He was leading a team of Recon Marines—”

  “Wait, he was Recon?”

  “Yes. Anyway, I was leading a second team. Keller came in from the south, and my team, along with Axe, was coming in from the north. Keller was supposed to wait. He didn’t. Thought he could do it on his own. He walked into an ambush and got his men killed. There was nothing we could do.”

  “I’m sorry, Reaper. I didn’t know.”

  He shrugged dismissively. “Yeah, well, you couldn’t.”

  Cara reached up and touched his face, her expression softening. Her touch was gentle, and it made his heart speed up. “What…what are you doing?”

  She withdrew her hand and reached down, grabbing the bottom of her T-Shirt before pulling it over her head. Beneath it, Cara wore a black bra that pushed her breasts into perfect mounds.

  Kane swallowed. “Cara—”

  She reached out and placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t speak,” she said softly before reaching back and unhooking the bra. It came loose, and she dropped it on the floor.

  “I have a little time before I have to get ready. Let’s not waste it.”

  Kane moved close and wrapped his arms around her, then stared into her eyes. “If you insist.”

  Vale de Perigo, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

  They entered the Valley of Danger in six armored SUVs—Keller, Traynor, and Troy in the first, with Cara and Brick in the second. The BOPE operators brought up the rear. Ronaldo had eight men with him. All wore masks and were heavily armed.

  The slum was bathed in a silvery glow from the large, pitted moon overhead. The vehicles blew through intersection after intersection, barely slowing at each. They passed a burned-out police car, rusted where the black had washed away since it had been there that long. Only a sparse handful of streetlamps worked, their orange glow turning the streets into an eerie, desolate landscape.

  Back in the second SUV, Cara watched it all slip by while Brick drove. Her trigger finger rested alongside the trigger guard, waiting for something unforeseen to happen. “I don’t like it, Brick.”

  “What’s that, ma’am?”

  “There’s no one out. The streets are vacant.”

  “Not exactly a place you’d want to venture into of a night.”

  “I know that but look at it. There is no one. Where was the last time you saw something like this?”

  “Afghanistan when the villagers used to clear out before a Taliban attack.”

  “Exactly.”

  “They know we’re coming,” Brick muttered.

  “Reaper Two to Reaper One, copy?”

  “What is it, Reaper Two?” Keller asked abruptly.

  “They know we’re coming.”

  “Say again, Reaper Two.”

  “Look around you. There’s no one out. The place is deserted. They know we’re coming.”

  “You’re too jumpy, Reaper Two,” Keller replied. “Keep the channel clear.”

  “Asshole,” Cara growled, then, “All call signs keep your eyes peeled. Something isn’t right.”

  “Damn it, Reaper Two, keep off the channel,” Keller said furiously.

  “Reaper was right. The bastard is driving us into a fucking ambush,” Cara almost screamed as she punched the glove compartment.

  “Easy, ma’am,” Brick said. “We’ll get through this. Adapt and overcome.”

  She nodded. “I hope so.”

  Joint Taskforce Operations, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

  “What’s going on?” Kane asked Thurston as he walked across the floor to the ops section.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked without so much as a glance in his direction.

  “I wanted to know what’s happening.”

  Thurston glanced around the room to see who had told Kane there was some kind of issue. “It’s all fine.”

  Kane glanced at Arenas, who gave his head a gentle shake. He left the general’s side and walked across to his friend. “What’s going on, Carlos?”

  “Something has Cara spooked.”

  “Shit.” Kane grabbed a headset. “How far out from the target are they?”

  “Two minutes.”

  “What’s she spooked about?”

  “I’m not sure. She said something about there not being anyone around.”

  Kane gave it some thought before he turned and walked over to Swift. He said, “Is all that the real-time feed?”

  “Yes.”

  Kane stared at the screen. “Can you give me—”

  “Bravo, from Reaper One, we’re one minute out from the target building, over.”

  “Roger, Reaper One,” Thurston replied. “You’re one minute out.”

  Kane forgot what he was saying and concentrated on the ISR feed on the screen. He could see the small convoy as it sped down the rough street toward the target building.

  Suddenly, the convoy split and the SUVs carrying Ronaldo and his men started to set up their defensive perimeter.

  “Tiger Team moving into position,” came Ronaldo’s voice.

  “Copy, Tiger Leader,” Ferrero replied. “You are moving into position.”

  Kane was staring at the screen when he detected Axe beside him. “What’s going on, Reaper?”

  “Don’t know. Cara senses something. She mentioned the streets being empty.”

  “Just like Afghanistan and the Taliban,” Axe said offhandedly.

  “Yeah, just like…shit. Teller, bring up thermal.”

  Overhead following the convoy’s insertion into the valley was an MQ-1C Gray Eagle equipped with thermal imaging capability. Moments later, the picture on the big screen changed.

  Kane stared at the screen, his jaw firm. His eyes flicked from one spot to another, mentally counting as they went.

  “Sweet Jesus,” he heard Axe say beside him. “They’ve driven into Hell.”

  “What are we seeing?” Thurston called.

  No one answered.

  “Is that the target?”

  Again nothing.

  “Dammit, someone talk to me!”

  Kane said into his comms, “Brooke, is that Gray Eagle armed?”

  “Affirmative, Reaper.”

  “Let’s hope it’s enough. Ma’am, you need to tell Keller to pull in his perimeter and fort up. He’s about to get pissed on from a great height.”

  “Reaper One, copy?”

  “Copy, Bravo. We’re just pulling up to the target house now.”

  “Forget it. Pull your perimeter in, Reaper One. You’ve driven into a shitstorm.”

  “Say again, ma’am?”

  “Pull in your perimeter. That’s an order.”

  “Wait one—” The transmission stopped abruptly.

  Everyone in the ops center looked at the screen. Small winks of heat started to appear, then the comms speakers in the room lit up. “Bravo, this is Reaper Two. We’re taking heavy fire. I say again, heavy fire. Reaper One is down, possibly KIA. Please advise, over. We can’t see shit from here.”

  Kane saw the tension on Thurston’s face, but when she spoke, her orders were clear and concise. “Reaper Two, pull your perimeter in and fort up. We’ll get you some help—”

  Kane missed the rest because he pulled the headset off. “Axe, with me.”

  The pair walked over to the cage in the corner of the room where the weapons and ammunition were stored. The only things they wore when not outside the wire were their handguns.

  Within minutes, Kane and Axe wore body armor and had everything else they needed, including suppressed weapons. They walked back over to where Thurston stood and Kane said, “Send us in, General.”

  “No.”

  “Damn it, General, we need to get out there.”

  “Just stand down for a moment, Reaper. If I send you out there now, all I’ll do is get you killed. Wait and see—”

  “General, we have a main-gate breach,” Swift called in an urgent voice.

&nb
sp; “Damn it, show me?”

  The screen changed and showed two dark SUVs parked just inside the gates. Eight people, heavily armed and dressed in black combat gear, were exchanging fire with two BOPE shooters. A third was already down. As they watched, one of the two reacted violently to a bullet strike and joined the fallen shooter on the ground. Kane took one look and knew they were in trouble. “Come on, Axe. Time to go to work.”

  Vale de Perigo, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

  Cara crouched behind the engine block of the SUV as a line of bullets stitched a path across its quarter panel. She muttered a curse and glanced at Brick, who was hovering over Keller. “Well?”

  “He’s dead, ma’am.”

  “Bravo, this is Reaper Two. Reaper One is KIA. Say again, Reaper One is KIA.”

  “Copy, Reaper Two.”

  The comms went silent.

  Brick looked at Cara. “What the fuck was that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Reaper Two, this is Tiger One. We’re coming to you.”

  “Roger that. All Reaper call signs, covering fire.”

  The intensity of outgoing fire from the remaining four shooters picked up. Traynor and Troy were hunkered down behind the second SUV, which had taken the brunt of the opening fusillade.

  Cara fired four evenly spaced shots at a shooter atop a roof on the opposite side of the street. Behind her, the target building was silent. It was a thin, two-story affair with a flat roof. She dropped back down and said into her comms. “Troy, Traynor, get up on top of the target building. You should get a better field of fire from there.”

  “Coming in!” The shout was loud over the gunfire. Ronaldo and two of his men appeared. One had been wounded.

  “Where are the rest of your men?” Cara asked as a new wave of bullets smashed into the armored SUV.

  “I do not know. I cannot raise them.”

  “All right. Everyone into the target building. Brick, when we get there, check out Ronaldo’s man.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Before she followed the others, Cara opened the rear door of the SUV and took out her M110A1 CSASS, which was her preferred choice of sniper weapon. As she dragged it clear, she said, “Come to Mama, baby. You’ve got work to do.”

  Running to follow the others inside, she worked her way through the open door, speaking into her comms. “Traynor, Troy, you in position yet?”

  Upstairs, the pair were running across the rooftop. “Almost, ma’am,” Troy said. He looked at Traynor. “You want north and east? I’ll take south and west.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Troy reached the edge of the rooftop and used the parapet as a rest to commence shooting. The beam from his laser sights reached through the dark as he swept the area for targets. It wasn’t long until he found one and squeezed the trigger. The 416 kicked back into his shoulder, and the figure he shot at disappeared.

  Behind him, he heard footsteps, then Cara knelt beside him. “Welcome aboard, Troy. Don’t forget to duck.”

  He fired again, using the single-shot selector on his weapon so as not to burn through too much ammunition. Cara placed her 416 on the ground and brought up the CSASS, made a couple of adjustments to it, and settled in behind the weapon. “Troy, take the west side. This street gives me a good field of fire with this—”

  “RPG!”

  The shout came from Traynor, who was throwing himself back from the parapet on his side. The impact of the rocket-propelled grenade rocked the building to its foundations. A bright orange flash was followed by a rising pall of black smoke.

  Cara placed her weapon on the rooftop and sprinted to where Traynor lay. As she ran, she pressed the transmit button on her comms. “Brick, rooftop! Get up here now.”

  “On my way.”

  Cara dropped to her knees beside Traynor, who was rolling around on his back, gasping for air. He coughed dust out of his lungs and moaned, “That was bullshit.”

  “Are you okay?” Cara asked hurriedly.

  “I’ll be all right.”

  Brick appeared. “What happened?”

  “RPG. He took some of the blast.”

  A small flashlight came out of the combat medic’s pocket, and he flashed it in Traynor’s right eye.

  “What are you frigging trying to do, blind me?” Traynor growled.

  “Just keep still while I check you out.”

  Keeping low, Cara ran across the rooftop to where the RPG had hit. There was a big hole in the parapet, and large chunks of debris lay spread all around. She drew her handgun and peered out into the green with her NVGs. Bullets peppered her position, and she was forced to take cover. “Shit.”

  Lurching back to a firing position, she fired at two figures as they ran across the street below. One threw up his hands and fell to the pavement, but his friend kept going. By the looks of it, he was carrying an AK47.

  “Tiger One, you’ve got a shooter coming in the back way.”

  “I have him, Reaper Two,” Ronaldo responded.

  “How is Pete, Brick?”

  “Good to go, ma’am,” came the reply through her comms.

  “Get him over here.”

  Traynor fell in beside her. “Pete, they’re trying to get in the back door. Keep them out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Brick, you good?”

  “Got my side covered, ma’am.”

  “Keep them out.”

  Cara ran back across the rooftop to retrieve her CSASS. Troy was still there, working his way steadily through the magazine he’d just loaded into the carbine. “You all right, ma’am?”

  “Good to go. Take up your position.”

  “RPG! Northside!”

  “Fuck me,” Cara hissed and hugged the rooftop.

  The grenade flew low across the rooftop and disappeared into the darkness of the neighborhood, terminated by a loud explosion. “I’ve had enough of this shit,” Cara growled. “Bravo Two, copy?”

  “Wait one, Reaper Two. We’ve got ourselves a situation. Bear with me.”

  “What the fuck?” Cara muttered. Here they were under heavy fire, and their main source of support was telling her to wait because they had a problem. What the hell was more important than a team in the field under siege?

  Chapter 12

  Joint Taskforce Operations, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

  “Moving!” Kane shouted as he left the cover of the Humvee, falling back behind a stack of wooden crates containing supplies. A hailstorm of bullets chased him every step of the way, eventually hammering into the boxes and chewing splinters from them.

  Kane dropped out an expended magazine and replaced it with a fresh one. He rose into a crouch and fired at a shooter who sheltered behind another Humvee. The burst of fire forced the shooter down. “Axe, come to me!”

  “Moving!”

  Axe disengaged and dropped back to where Kane was firing, covering his retreat. Of the eight original breachers who attacked the compound, only five remained. The other three had fallen to the sudden counterattack provided by Kane and Axe. However, that hadn’t lasted long. Another SUV arrived, and the attackers went to work like professionally trained killers, pushing the two Reaper men back by the weight of their fire.

  “These bastards are not your average shooters, Reaper. You saw how they moved?”

  More bullets chewed into the crates they sheltered behind while others cut through the air over their heads.

  “Professionals,” Kane allowed as he fired another burst from his 416.

  More gunfire, this time from the left. Axe shifted his aim and cursed. “They’re trying to flank us, Reaper.”

  “Well, don’t let them.”

  Kane fired and dropped another shooter. Then he caught sight of two more who were moving right. Instinctively Kane brought his weapon around, but he was too late, and the men had made cover before he could fire. He tapped Axe on the shoulder. “We’re moving again.”

  “After you.”

  “There’
s two shooters on the right. Watch out for them.”

  “Get going.”

  “Moving!”

  Crouching, Kane ran toward the corner of the main building. Once there, he took a position and said into his comms, “Axe, come to me.”

  The big man stopped firing and got to his feet. Kane opened up and put out a withering cover fire. From the right, the shooters Kane had warned Axe about appeared and started firing at the running form. Kane dropped the first man with two shots. The second took one round before he lunged back behind cover, wounded but still dangerous.

  “You get them?” Axe asked.

  “One and clipped the other. How are you for ammo?”

  Axe checked. “Two mags, one in my weapon.”

  “Same,” Kane said.

  “Reaper, sitrep, over?”

  It was Thurston.

  “Ma’am, we could use another shooter out here.”

  “On my way.” A minute or so later, Thurston asked, “Where are you?”

  “Corner of the building. West side.”

  “Coming to you.”

  Moments later, a figure appeared behind them, and the general made her way along the wall. When she joined them, she asked, “What have we got?”

  “They pushed us back in spite of us putting a few of them down. They’re professionals. The question we need to ask is who sent them?”

  “Then we’d better push them back, hadn’t we? Here.” Thurston reached into a shoulder bag she carried and handed out fresh magazines. I figured you were low.”

  “Thanks, ma’am,” Axe said. “I was about to go looking for a watermelon so I could spit seeds at them.”

  Kane and Axe dropped out partially spent magazines to reload fresh ones. Once they were done, they brought their weapons up to their shoulders. “Ready when you are, ma’am.”

  “Reaper, left. Axel, right. I’ll go up the middle. Move.”

  As they broke cover, Axe gave a wry grin. “They’re fucked now, Reaper. She called me ‘Axel.’”

  The three of them relocated using the method of move and fire. A stationary shooter was a dead shooter.