by Susan Stoker
She passed one of the caterers and smiled at him, but couldn’t force any words past her tight throat. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was one in the afternoon. She had to talk to someone. Get someone to listen to her. But who?
Her boss was off and he’d told her in no uncertain terms to never contact him when he wasn’t at work. This was an emergency, but she didn’t think he’d care. He’d probably think she was making everything up.
She’d met Joshua’s boss, Commander Horner, several times. He’d even been there that morning, hobnobbing with the conference participants, but she had no idea how to get ahold of him on the weekend. It wasn’t as if she had his cell number. She could see if he had an address in the system, but…would he believe her?
Shit, she was going to have to call Joshua. She didn’t want to, but she had no idea who else could help. He was her direct supervisor, after all, and could at least give her the commander’s phone number or pass on the information himself.
Tomorrow at eight, those men were going to kill Rocco and the others, so there wasn’t a lot of time to convince someone she wasn’t crazy—that there really were three navy personnel in big trouble.
She hurried down the stairs to her floor and went straight to her desk. She sat there for a second, trying to compose herself. Her hands were shaking, and she knew she was sweating like a pig.
Taking a big breath to try to get her composure before she called Joshua, Caite forced herself to calm down. It felt like she’d just sprinted a mile. Her neck and shoulder muscles hurt from being scrunched up and she had a headache from hell. It was hard to think straight, but she had to make sure she sounded calm and levelheaded when she talked to her boss. He’d never listen to her if she was shrieking like a crazy person.
Taking one last look around to make sure she was alone, she reached for the phone. She quickly dialed Joshua’s home number and waited with bated breath for him to answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mr. Mullen, it’s Caite. I have a problem and I need your help. I was at the conference today and—”
“You had better not be calling me about some stupid little detail, Ms. McCallan. Your job is to take care of things yourself. And if you can’t handle something as simple as a conference, then maybe I need to see about finding someone who can.”
Irritated, Caite forced herself to stay calm. “No, it’s nothing like that. There was a problem with lunch but I took care of it. I’m calling because I overheard something, and I think there may be some navy personnel who need assistance and—”
“No.”
Caite blinked at the harsh cutoff. “What?”
“I said no. I can’t believe you’re calling me about gossip! Did I not tell you that I was on leave until next week? You know I don’t like to be bothered when I’m with my family.”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“If you say one more word, I’m going to write you up,” Joshua said, not letting her finish. “In fact, if I discover that you tried to bother anyone else with some nonsense you overheard, I’ll make sure you’re on your way back to the States without a job so fast, it’ll make your head spin. Got it?”
Caite was so shocked at the venom in Joshua’s words, she couldn’t respond even if she wanted to.
“Now get back to work,” Joshua said before hanging up the phone.
Caite stared at the phone in her hand before slowly reaching forward and putting it back on its base. Now what? Her boss had shut her down, effectively cutting off any means of getting help to Rocco and his friends.
She could defy him and try to find the commander’s phone number some other way…but she needed this job.
Thinking hard, she considered what her next steps should be. She could forget she’d heard anything, but the thought of the men going to that store and slaughtering Rocco, Ace, and Gumby when she could have done something to prevent it wasn’t acceptable.
Information. She needed information.
Everyone at the conference had been required to submit basic details about themselves before they were accepted. She unlocked her desk drawer and grabbed the folder of participants at the conference, flicking through the papers until she found what she was looking for.
Timothee, Henri, David, Marc, and Emirck Bitoo.
The pictures that were taken for their visitors’ badges were attached to each of their applications. Timothee was the oldest at thirty-five, and she assumed he was the one who had done most of the talking, the one who’d said he’d be able to get a gun. The ages of the brothers were close, with Emirck being the youngest at twenty-five.
Her eyes flicked over the pages and her heart sank. The same home address was listed on all five applications. And the men had specifically said that Rocco and the others were being held at their father’s store.
Panicking, she flipped back to Timothee’s application and forced herself to read every word, slowly and carefully. She needed a miracle. She needed to know where that store was. What she was going to do with that information, she had no idea, but she needed it.
It wasn’t until she got to Emirck’s application that she finally breathed out a sigh of relief. On the question about an emergency contact, the youngest of the Bitoo family had listed his father…and included an address. He’d even made a notation that it was both his father’s work and home address.
Not wanting to turn on her computer in case someone checked her log-in records, Caite pulled out her phone. She put in the address—and almost cried.
Just as she suspected, it was located smack-dab in the middle of the area she’d been warned not to go into under any circumstances on account of the high crime rate.
Biting her lip, she fretted until a noise down the hall startled her, and she jumped. Whipping her head around, she saw one of the janitors getting off the recently repaired elevator. She smiled at him and quickly put the applications back into the folder and jammed it into her desk.
“Still working, huh?” the older gentleman asked.
Caite nodded as she relocked the drawer. “Yeah, but I’m done, thank goodness. I hate working on the weekend.”
“I like it. It’s quiet,” the janitor said with a smile.
“I bet.” Caite hated the small talk, but knew she needed to act as normal as possible. “Thank goodness my part in the conference is done. I just had to come back and make one last report about the caterers being late. Now I can go home and enjoy what’s left of my weekend.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” the man said jovially, and Caite internally winced. What she was thinking about doing was something no one should do.
“I won’t,” she called as she made her way toward the stairwell.
“See you later.”
“Later!” she returned, and waved as she pushed open the door. Once inside the stairwell, Caite leaned against the door and took a deep breath. She brought her phone up and clicked it back on. She stared at the map with dread. She really, really didn’t want to go there herself. But her boss had given her little choice. She had to do what she could to help Rocco, Ace, and Gumby herself. If something happened to them, and she could’ve done anything to help, she’d never forgive herself.
According to the Bitoo brothers, they were going to stay away from the store until tomorrow night. So she had time to get there, do what she could to help Rocco, and get the hell back to base.
Knowing she was being incredibly stupid, Caite pressed her lips together and jogged down the stairs. She had to get back to her place and change clothes. It was prohibited for US military members, their families, and DOD employees to wear the traditional Bahraini abaya, but this was an emergency. She couldn’t exactly go traipsing all over the city in her American jeans or slacks. She had to blend in.
She’d bought a beautiful abaya from a street vendor last month. It was black with pink accents on the hem, down the front where the material came together, and around the wrists. She’d planned to wear it as a bathrobe, but when she’d gotten
it back to her apartment, decided it was too pretty to wear around the house. The saleswoman had even talked her into buying a hijab. Caite hadn’t been able to say no, especially when one of the vendor’s young children had poked her head out from under the table. She’d bought the head covering even though she knew she’d never wear it.
But right this second, she was thanking her lucky stars she had it. The only thing she needed now was the courage to head out into Manama by herself, in the dark, to a part of the city that was known to be dangerous to foreigners.
Once dressed, she almost chickened out. Caite stared at herself in the mirror and wondered what in the hell she was doing.
But then she thought about Rocco. Being stuck in that cellar, especially when he didn’t like enclosed spaces. He was probably hurt badly, as were Ace and Gumby, if the Bitoo brothers’ words were anything to go by. They couldn’t get out. She had to help them.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Then she turned without a second glance at herself dressed as a woman from Bahrain, and prayed no one would recognize her as she headed out of her apartment and started walking north. She’d catch a taxi as soon as she got farther away from the base, then change taxis once she made it to the city center, just to prevent anyone from knowing she was headed into the off-limits area.
“You’d better be there,” she whispered to herself as she walked, head down, staring at her feet and hurrying along the sidewalk.
Chapter Five
They were going to die.
There wasn’t really any way around it.
And that sucked.
The possibility of him dying on a mission was something Rocco and the others were always aware of, but this just seemed so wrong. He’d always imagined himself biting it in a much more dramatic way. Roadside bomb. Saving one of his teammates from a bullet. Or even fighting hand-to-hand with a terrorist.
Trying to take cover behind beaten-up old crates and bags of food while being shot at from above wasn’t how he’d thought he’d go, even in his wildest imagination.
It really sucked that they wouldn’t get to say goodbye to the others. They were going to be missed by Bubba, Rex, and Phantom. They were more than mere teammates; they were like brothers. They’d talked about dying before, and they’d all agreed that if they had to die for their country, they’d prefer to all go together. Morbid, but for people like them, it wasn’t anything unusual.
Rocco and the others had been quiet for a while, resting up and racking their brains to try to come up with a feasible way to break out of their prison before the Bitoo brothers returned. Which they would; they couldn’t just leave three strange men beneath their father’s store. And as far as Rocco was concerned, the chances the brothers didn’t know the tablets were hidden in the cellar were slim.
They hadn’t found any more of the ancient tablets though. Rocco was sure Commander Horner had told them there were ten. But they’d searched every inch of the cellar and hadn’t found any others.
He glanced at his watch. Eleven at night on Saturday. It had been over twenty-four hours since they’d been stuck underground—and since he was supposed to pick up Caite. He knew he should stop thinking about her, about their missed date, but he couldn’t.
There were much more pressing things to obsess over—like the fact that they couldn’t get out of the deep cellar they’d been thrown into.
Since Gumby’s ankle was messed up and Rocco’s wrist was definitely not at one hundred percent, Ace had been elected the best person to try to open the hatch high above their heads. During their extensive search, they’d found a stepladder tucked behind some boxes, and Rocco had climbed up a few steps and braced himself. Ace climbed onto his shoulders holding a broom, to see if they could force the hatch open. Whatever the men had put on top of it wasn’t budging though. No matter how hard Ace tried, he couldn’t get enough force to be able to open the hatch.
They’d talked for hours about what the plan was when the men returned—and they would return, that was inevitable. They’d be back, most likely with reinforcements.
Basically, the SEALs were screwed. All three men knew it. They were good fighters. They could hold their own, but with all of them injured, they knew any fight would be extremely lopsided. Even if the Gabonese men didn’t bring reinforcements, the fact that they were stuck in this cellar made them sitting ducks. All it would take was a rifle or pistol, and they could be picked off one by one, and there wouldn’t be a damn thing Rocco and the others could do about it.
They’d discussed hiding, making it seem as if they had escaped and jumping whoever came down to search for them, but that wouldn’t help them get out in one piece, as the others would most likely be waiting up top inside the store.
The bottom line: the only chance they had—a very slim chance—was the element of surprise. The second someone removed whatever was holding the hatch closed, they’d have to strike. Gumby was very good with his knife, could take someone out in seconds, and Ace was scarily effective at using his bare hands to kill…but they had to get out of the cellar first.
So the plan was for Rocco to basically throw Ace up and out of the hatch the second it was unsecured or opened. Even with his bad wrist, he had the most upper-body strength.
They all knew the move was most likely a suicidal one, but they had no choice. Ace would do his best to fight whoever was up there as soon as the hatch was opened, or at least try to block a few bullets until Rocco could get Gumby up to assist Ace. When they were able, they’d throw down a rope and Rocco would join the fight.
It was risky, and likely to fail, but it was the best they could do under the circumstances. They’d practiced the “throwing a teammate out of a hole” move back in training in California. It came about because intel had come down the line that the Taliban had begun digging holes in the desert. They threw men in them in the hopes they’d die of thirst and their bodies would simply decompose and turn to dust, with no one the wiser. So Rocco and the rest of the team had attended a brainstorming session with Wolf, Abe, Cookie, Mozart, Dude, and Benny, and they’d come up with a way to get out of almost any hole.
They’d done a modified version to get Caite out of the elevator car…
Shit, was that days ago? It seemed so much longer.
Basically, one man would stand on another man’s shoulders. The man on the bottom would then hold the other man’s feet in his hands and squat. At the appropriate time, he’d spring upward and straighten his arms. The man standing on top would jump, and the combined height of the two men, plus the force of their momentum, could propel the man on top to a height of around twenty feet…if done right.
They’d practiced over and over in the gym at the base in California. They’d switched partners and everyone had taken both positions, getting the feel for what it was like to be the jumper and the jumpee.
With Gumby’s bum ankle, he wouldn’t be much good on the bottom, but he could be propelled upward. The move would hurt Rocco’s wrist, but he could take it. The important thing was getting the fuck out of this hole.
But right now, they were stuck until someone came for them. Bad guy, good guy, random bystander. It didn’t matter. They weren’t going anywhere until whatever was holding down the hatch was moved.
“Any regrets?” Ace asked quietly as they sat and waited.
Caite immediately came to mind. “She’ll never know why I didn’t show,” he said quietly. “She’ll think I stood her up.”
His friends didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say. They both knew who Rocco was referring to, and that he was right. It wasn’t like anyone would tell her anything about the top-secret mission the SEALs had been on. Hell, no one even knew she existed in his life. He’d simply be the man who’d asked her out, then ghosted on her. It sucked.
“I always wanted a dog,” Gumby said.
No one laughed at him and told him he was crazy for thinking about a dog right before he’d most likely be killed.
&
nbsp; “Growing up, we moved too much and my old man refused to let us get one, saying it was too hard to get good navy housing with one. But I’ve always loved them. Told myself it wasn’t fair to get a pet when I was gone so much. But dammit, I wish I’d done it anyway.”
“What kind?” Rocco asked.
“A pit bull,” Gumby said immediately. “I know they have a bad rep, but I’ve met so many that are the biggest smoosh faces. And these were former fighting dogs too. I’m not saying they’re all well-adjusted and safe, but I’ve always wanted to give one a second chance. Show him or her what it’s like to have an owner who’s compassionate and kind.”
They were quiet for a moment. Neither Ace nor Rocco had any words of encouragement for their buddy. They knew the score.
“I regret that I’ll never have kids,” Ace said after a while. “I always figured I’d have lots of time to settle down and have them.”
“How many do you want?” Rocco asked.
“As many as my wife’ll let me give her,” was his response. “I don’t care if they’re boys or girls. Growing up as an only child, I always envied my friends who had big, boisterous families. Now that my folks have both passed, I don’t have much family left. I always wanted to have a ton of kids so no one ever felt as if they were alone.”
Again, no one had a reply, and silence fell over the group.
The cellar was surprisingly soundproof. They couldn’t hear anything other than each other’s breathing and water dripping from somewhere.
While they were confident in their fighting abilities, all three knew the odds were against them this time. Maybe if Bubba, Rex, and Phantom were there as well, they’d be able to come up with a plan to get out. Hell, Phantom would probably somehow find a way to dig out. But among the three of them, the mood was solemn and reflective.
Rocco wasn’t ready to give up. A SEAL never called it quits until the absolute end. But he was also a realist.
I’m sorry, Caite. I hope you find a man who appreciates the beauty he’s got in you.
