The Vagabonds (The Code of War Book 4)

by Jim Roberts

  Krieger snarled to himself as he gunned the engine, “Can’t believe I’m taking orders from traitors. What is next? Maybe the Olympus woman will grow bat wings and fly.”

  * * *

  AS NOON approached, the river started to narrow, swerving noticeably through the acres of woodland. Joe had done his share of jungle schlepping during his career, but even he had to admit the Venezuelan rainforest was something else entirely. As the day went on, a heavy fog collected on the river, swallowing up the jungle around them in an impenetrable mist.

  It struck Joe—the innate savagery of the jungle. A man was merely another beast out here, forced to survive however he could amidst a multitude of factors perfectly capable of ending his life.

  Because of the heavy fog, they almost missed the tributary Walker had told them to take. The river had slowed to a heavy crawl as the fog wafted ominously around them, making it all but impossible to see ten feet ahead. They traveled along—carefully now, as the river became shallower, threatening to foul the engine blades in unseen vines.

  Walker spoke, “We should be coming up to a civilian village called San Juan Apure. The community there are mostly native Wayuu peoples. There should be some VPA regulars there that will escort us to Lennox’s base.”

  After traveling the tributary for a few minutes, the smell of burning chemical hit the company’s noses. Joe sniffed the air, curious at the odd scent. There was a familiar garlic stench in the air that Joe recognized from years in the military.

  “White phosphorous,” Agrippina said, echoing what Joe was thinking. “They’ve been here.”

  After a few moments, an orange glow appeared through the fog on the riverbank. The sounds of snapping and burning became louder. Everyone gripped their weapons as the Whipray drifted downstream, dreading the sight that was waiting for them.

  The village of San Juan Apure came into view—consumed with fire. The thatched wood houses stretching across the riverbank were now so much ash and debris. The corpses of the dead littered the area, scorched and blackened by the burning phosphorous chemical.

  Krieger guided the Whipray toward the massacred village. Lodging the craft against the shoreline, the team exited the boat—weapons at the ready. Krieger and Husker quickly hid the SOC in a mass of vines and roots, covering it from prying eyes.

  As they moved forward into the destroyed village, Agrippina walked ahead of the team—pistols still in their holsters as if she feared nothing.

  Trying not to breathe the sour chemical in, Braddock glanced around the village. The grisly sight was all too familiar to him. He’d seen phosphorous used by the US during his time in Iraq. Memories of the battle of Fallujah surfaced within him. Despite only targeting the insurgents with the poisonous incendiary, many innocent civilians were inadvertently burned as well. The sickening results of the incendiary attackers were unforgettable.

  To the side of Joe, he heard Petrol whisper under his breath, “Holy Mother of God.” Joe looked and saw the Peacemaker was looking at the remains of a little girl, seared like a side of beef. Her clothes were melted into her blackened skin, her limbs burned beyond recognition. Petrol removed a crucifix necklace from inside his fatigues. Kissing the symbol, he returned it to his clothing, never taking his eyes off the massacre before them.

  “They did not have a chance,” Krieger said, his usually flippant attitude as somber as his teammates.

  Joe looked at Walker and asked, “How many people lived here?”

  “Maybe a thousand,” Walker replied, his voice a mere whisper, “Mostly indigenous natives.”

  Husker asked Joe, “What do we do, Sarge? Should we check the homes for any survivors.”

  Joe shook his head. “No. This place is dead. We keep moving on. Walker said the Vagabond encampment is beyond this village. That’s where we’re going.”

  He looked down at the streets, where the burned corpses of women and children littered the way. Within that horrible moment, Joe felt transported back to that cistern in Syria. Up to his neck in the dead, he’d swam through the bodies of those slaughtered in a war he could never understand.

  And now, it was happening again.

  No matter where I go, death follows.

  Something terrified Joe as he looked upon the destroyed village and its gruesome dead.

  He realized he didn’t care anymore.

  A numbness overcame him like a wave. He saw the dead, smelled the burned flesh—could almost see in his mind’s eye the last moments of their horror and pain. But apart from that…he felt nothing. Just a profound emptiness. He’d given every part of his being to this fight, and so far, what had it gained? When would it end? It felt to Joe Braddock that the more they fought, the only thing that changed was the misery inflicted on the innocent.

  No…I can’t lose that part of me.

  Joe watched the horror as the team marched through the blazing village, forcing himself to memorize every detail of the massacre.

  I’m not there yet. I’m stronger than that.

  You can’t let them beat you, Joe.

  Beside him, Agrippina stopped for a moment to stare at something out of Braddock’s view. Moving beside her, Joe looked and saw the scalded remains of two people: a man and a woman. They were entwined together on the ground, embracing one another. They had been incinerated so quickly, their skin had run like tar—merging their bodies together into a ghastly tableau of horror.

  Agrippina stared at the pair of corpses, her face expressionless. Whatever the Olympus soldier was thinking, it was obvious she was far away from here.

  A distant memory of a time long passed?

  Joe could only guess.

  THE TEAM of Peacemakers moved past the village and into the wild of the rainforest beyond. Their mood was sullen, their hearts heavy from the horror they left behind.

  Husker broke the silence. “I’ve never…I…why did they do that?”

  Agrippina replied, “Olympus is sending a message to the Vagabonds and the VPA. There will be no quarter until Lennox is found. And even then, they will simply continue this sort of thing. It’s the way we work.”

  Petrol snapped a look at the Olympus harpy, a dangerous glint in his eye, “Is this amusing to you? Olympus massacres a village with impunity and you don’t feel anything?”

  Agrippina crossed her arms, “I’m not a simpleton ruled by my emotions if that’s what you mean.”

  “You bitch—”

  Petrol made a lunge at Agrippina. In a single lightning-speed maneuver, Agrippina drew her wakizashi and held it against the man’s throat. Instantly the other members of the team had their weapons up—pointed at the assassin. All except Walker, who seemed oddly amused at what was transpiring.

  Petrol didn’t move, realizing any attempt to do so would result in his throat being sliced open.

  Agrippina spoke quietly, her eyes drifting toward Joe, “I require you to find Lennox, Braddock. I do not need your teammates. Olympus knows Lennox is hiding nearby and is willing to do anything to find him. This emotional foolishness serves no one.”

  “Let him go,” Joe said, a commanding tone in his voice.

  Agrippina held Petrol with her gaze for several long seconds before removing the blade. Sheathing it, she said, “There will be more blood spilled on this mission, you can count on that.”

  Joe held his rifle on the harpy long enough to say, “Right now, you’re here by the good graces of the General and myself. I wouldn’t overvalue your use if I were you.”

  Petrol let out a halting breath. Looking into the red and green eyes of the assassin was not something one took lightly. With the moment of tension over, the team lowered their weapons.

  Joe looked at Walker and asked, “How far before we make the Vagabond encampment?”

  “It’s a three-hour hike northwest from here,” the gunrunner said, his wild mop of hair clinging to his forehead. The humidity was becoming unbearable in the midday heat, “There’s a fair sized trail a few hundred meters from here. If we
follow it, we’ll find the Vagabond HQ.”

  “A bit remote for a headquarters, don’t you think?” Krieger asked, skeptically.

  Walker kept his eyes on Joe, pretending Krieger hadn’t spoken. “Lennox uses airpower to get to and from the location. He likes to stay mobile and rarely in the same place for long. Any other questions, Alexei?”

  Krieger sniffed in derision, “And they say I am grumpy one.”

  Joe ended the discussion. “Okay, enough! Walker, you’re taking point. Eyes out from here on. Whatever did this could still be out there. I’ll contact the Harbinger and let them know about the village.”

  The fog was stifling now. Joe had a sinking feeling that they were heading into a vast unknown that could swallow them into nothingness as sure as this village was consumed. He prayed that whatever they found when they met this ghost of man Lennox, would be worth the pain and horror of this day…and many sad days to come.

  Chapter 17

  The Next Phase

  The USS Harbinger, Off the Coast of Venezuela, October 6th

  THE VISAGE of Joe Braddock looked more somber than usual as he finished the quick check-in on the monitor. Standing over the shoulder of Headcase in the CDC of the Harbinger, Brick had listened in silence as Joe laid out the horrific events on the River Apure. Headcase had turned a sick color of gray as she eavesdropped on the conversation. Behind them both, silent as a ghost, was General Walsh. The old soldier listened calmly to the horrible story of the San Juan Apure village’s destruction.

  Braddock wrapped up his communiqué, his face barely visible through the dense fog of the jungle. “Walker says we’re a good three hours away from the Vagabond HQ. Is there anything you can do about the village back there, sir?”

  Brick glanced at Walsh.

  The General shook his head.

  Brick leaned in to answer Joe. “We can try and contact the Venezuelan Government, but it’s unlikely those wankers’ll do anything. Olympus is working for them, after all. For now, continue with the mission. Radio back to us when you have information on Lennox’s location.”

  Joe didn’t seem happy with the response, but nodded his acceptance, “Roger that. Alpha Team out.”

  The feed switched off. Brick let out a long sigh.

  “Sodding hell, what does Olympus have to gain with killing all those people?”

  Walsh stifled a cough. “It’s what they do. The threat of violence must be maintained by real violence. They think they’re getting close to Lennox and they want to spread fear among the rebel army and anyone who tries to hide the Vagabonds. That includes civilians caught in the crosshairs.”

  Headcase turned to look at Walsh, “General, how do they get away with this? There are international rules of war. The Geneva convention—”

  “The Geneva convention has specific rules of what constitutes a combatant in war,” Walsh said, leaning on his cane. “Olympus and PMCs, in general, don’t qualify even as mercenaries, under the strictest definitions. They would actually be seen as civilians in this case. This act by Olympus is currently an in-country matter, to be dealt with by the Venezuelan Government.”

  Headcase was becoming emotional, “But…that means nothing is going to be done!”

  “That’s right, Headcase,” Walsh replied, soberly.

  “That’s insane, sir!”

  “That’s war, Specialist.”

  Headcase couldn’t accept that, “What if we informed the Venezuelan government about Olympus’s actions and—”

  “—and what?” Walsh interrupted the young woman before she could finish, “What would they do? For all we know, the government is ordering these attacks. We have no authority in this matter. We need to let this go.”

  Headcase was becoming angry, forgetting she was speaking to a General. “But sir, I thought we came here to help these people. How are we helping if we let them be massacred?”

  Brick interjected, “That’s enough, Headcase.”

  Walsh held up a hand, “We aren’t here to help Venezuela, Miss Williams,” he said, calling Headcase by her real last name. “This mission’s sole purpose is to prevent Olympus from raising the Fog of War, and the only way to do that is to locate Leo Lennox.”

  Cowed for the moment, Headcase managed to murmur, “Yes, General. Sorry, sir.”

  “Compassion for others is one of your best qualities, Specialist. But so is knowing when to pick your battles. Olympus will pay for this, I promise you that.”

  THE INFIRMARY onboard the USS Harbinger was state of the art. Capable of furnishing the medical needs of its 6,000 crew members, it contained a fully operational surgery unit, as well as a stocked pharmacy.

  As Brick Reynolds headed toward the infirmary, his eyes were buried in a PDA, looking over the maintenance budget for the Peacemaker’s newest addition to its arsenal. After the budget increase last month, the Navy had delivered over a dozen brand new, highly advanced Blitzer V-44 aircraft to General Walsh’s anti-PMC unit. Sleek and compact in their design, the blue-camo covered aircraft vaguely resembled lawn darts, with four tiltrotor jet engines riding along the wings. Designed to counter the formidable Hyperion jets used by Olympus, the Blitzers had yet to be field tested.

  Brick pocketed the PDA as he came to the infirmary’s examination room.

  There would be time for all that later.

  Looking inside the medbay, he saw a red-headed woman sitting on a gurney.

  Sarah Anders.

  Brick couldn’t believe how good it was to see her again.

  A young Navy nurse was wrapping Sarah’s ankle in a tensor bandage. Brick saw a pair of crutches by the gurney.

  Sarah practically blew her top when she noticed Brick standing in the door of the infirmary.

  “Brick! Where have you been? Why have you been avoiding me?”

  He’d been prepared for this kind of welcome. He kept his cool.

  “I haven’t been avoiding you, I’ve just been busy. There’s a lot going on right now.”

  “I bet. Are you going to fill me in, or feed me that ‘classified information’ tripe?” Her blood was up now. It was useless to try and argue with her when she got this way. He knew from experience.

  Brick glanced at the Navy nurse who was tending to her foot and asked, “Can you give us a minute, please?”

  The nurse nodded and excused herself.

  “So how’s your ankle?” Brick asked.

  Sarah leaned down and rubbed her ankle gingerly. “I won’t be dancing for a while if that’s what you mean. But what about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Start with why you haven’t called me in three months?”

  “I’m the second in command of the bloody Peacemakers, Sarah. I’ve been a little busy—”

  “You’re allowed to have a life, Alistair.”

  “Oye, I’ve told you not to call me that—”

  Sarah pressed on, “When we got back from Sadoma I thought we had a good thing going. But every time I think I’m getting close to you, you push me away.”

  “Bloody hell, Sarah, do you have any idea what just happened today?”

  The reporter quieted for a moment. Brick took a deep breath and told her about the destroyed village of San Juan Apure. When he was done, Sarah’s face was red with embarrassment.

  “Jesus. I’m sorry.” She sat back on the gurney, saddened by the news.

  “Yeah. It happened earlier this morning. Olympus is ramping up its attacks on the VPA, trying to get back at anyone hiding Lennox and the Vagabonds.”

  Sarah shook her head, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you now.”

  “It’s okay, luv,” Brick seated himself on the gurney beside her.

  They sat for a few minutes in silence. In the quiet, he could feel the sensation of the aircraft carrier listing in the water as it maintained its slow patrol of the Caribbean Sea. He looked over at the woman beside him, who still meant so much to him.

  “You know this is the only life I’ve ever
known, yeah? The General has me earmarked to take over command of the Unit when he retires—if he retires. Knowing the old man, he’ll fight this war until he’s in a wheelchair. He expects a lot from me, and I can’t let him down.”

  Sarah let out a long breath, “Look, Alistair, I understand how much this job means to you, really I do. But I don’t know if I can wait around forever.”

  Brick took her face in his hands, looking into her languid eyes. “My team needs me right now. These Olympus bastards need to be stopped.”

  Before Sarah could reply, the carrier intercom blared loudly overhead.

  “Lieutenant Reynolds to the CDC please, Lieutenant Reynolds to the CDC.”

  Sarah smiled. “You’re saved by the bell, soldier.”

  Brick stood up, pulling Sarah up with him, “I promise we’ll have time for all for all of this soon.”

  She smiled. “Just get outta here before I change my mind.”

  Brick couldn’t hold back. He grasped her tight in his strong arms and kissed her. They made the moment last as long as possible, melting into one another in the quiet of the cramped infirmary.

  Breaking away at last, Sarah tapped Brick on the chest.

  “Don’t let Olympus get away with this Brick. Promise me you will make them pay for what they’ve done.”

  “Count on it.”

  THE MONITORING station in the CDC was now showcasing the slender face of Jade Masters. The aide-de-camp was filling in both Headcase and General Walsh with a smattering of recent intelligence when Brick came marching back into the CDC. Walsh looked over at his second in command.

  “How is Miss Anders?” the General asked.

  “Fine sir, just a twisted ankle.”

  “Good. We’ll have her on the next flight off the carrier. There’s a bird taking the American nationals we picked up in Venezuela to Puerto Rico in an hour. She’ll be on it.”

  Brick didn’t argue. He swore to himself he would make things right between Sarah and himself. But right now, there were larger matters at stake.