John
Kris Michaels
Copyright © 2020 by Kris Michaels
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
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Also by Kris Michaels
About the Author
Chapter 1
John Smith leveled his M-4 and stared down the sights before he dropped it and slapped a clip of ammunition into the receiver. With practiced ease, he drew the charging handle back and chambered a 5.56-millimeter round. His thumb grazed the firing indicator to ensure it was on ‘Safe’ before he shouldered the weapon. He grabbed his backpack by the carrying handle.
“You ready for this?” Luke Wagner asked his question as he approached. He’d met the operative he knew as Tempest at the Rose when he’d installed machinery and trained Joseph on how to use the passport press. When he was there, he’d run the Rose’s training courses with Luke. He’d never beaten the man, but there was a thin margin in his defeat.
He squared his shoulders. They’d done this dance four times before and they’d found nothing. The variables of combining the numbers as latitude and longitude were numerous. Thankfully, they’d eliminated several as nonplayers without sending a team. It was safe to say there was no enemy stronghold at the bottom of the Marianas Trench. They had one more location to search after this one. The reality that this could be another failed mission before it even started weighed on him, but he’d follow it through to the end. “I am.”
Luke rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before he spoke again. “Mind me asking a question?”
“Shoot.” He’d answer what he could.
“Who is she to you?” Tempest dropped his snowshoes and took a seat on the log John had just vacated.
“My sister.” Tempest raised his eyebrows, and John chuckled before he clarified, “We both worked for a certain agency doing certain things. The agency decided we were… liabilities. She was killed and they tried to do the same thing to me.”
“So, what are you hoping to find?” Tempest talked to the ground as he attached the wide pad to his boot.
John sighed and shook his head, staring at the frozen forest ahead of him. “Answers, I guess. Why? Who ordered it? I’m officially dead, so the inquires that were made by Guardian had to be subtle. I’ve moved on. Hell, I learned how to manage a ranch and I’d never seen a cow before I showed up in South Dakota.”
Tempest laughed and tossed his other snowshoe down. “Amazing what we can become when we need to.”
“Thing is, I like it. Maybe better than anything I’ve ever done.”
“Done a lot?” Tempest retied his boot after snapping his snowshoe on, just like he’d done to the previous boot.
“More than you could possibly imagine.” John snorted. As a child, he’d been a master grifter, grew up, got caught, and became a sniper for his country before he and Lori worked designing deep-cover identifications. His sister had introduced him to that career. Lori was also the reason he’d left the service. His father had been murdered and she needed him.
“I can imagine a lot. You’re not the only one with a past, although with the protection orders we have from the very top of the agency, your past must be very interesting. Any wife or kids out there?” Luke stood up and grabbed his M-4 from where he’d propped it.
He appreciated the sudden change of subject. He wasn’t going to talk about his past, and Luke had just informed him he wasn’t going to press. He chuckled, “Nope. You?”
“Wife, or soon to be.” Tempest smiled and winked at him.
“Well then, you watch your ass out there today.”
“Damn straight, and right back at you. If I bring you home with so much as a scratch, I think the Kings would string me up.”
John snorted. “Frank just wants his ranch manager back.”
“If that’s what you think, you don’t know those people. They are all about family. Everyone who works for them is important, but those they’ve taken under their wing? Nah, son, your sister may be gone, but you’ve got more family now than you’ll ever need.”
“Huh.” Well, that piece of the puzzle slid into place.
“What?” Tempest looked at him.
“Makes sense now.”
“Again, what?”
John spoke the words he’d heard numerous times but hadn’t really assigned a meaning to. “Whatever it takes.”
“Because we’re family. Yeah, that’s right. We’ll do whatever it takes for as long as it takes.” Luke turned and nodded to the team’s leader. “Skipper, we’re set.”
Travis motioned and the men moved away from the vehicles. As they worked their way northeast from the dead-end road just past Keewtinohk Converter Station in Gillam, a small town in Manitoba, they followed the Nelson River. The cold had solidified the snow. Still, the snowshoes were a necessity due to the drifts. He fell into formation as they moved silently through the river valley. They moved at a steady but relaxed pace. Sweating in the bitter cold was a recipe for disaster and a rookie mistake the men of this squad wouldn’t make. John settled into a shuffle and let his mind wander back to the event that had pulled him from the obscure safety where he’d been existing.
The mare’s dark chestnut coat shivered under his fingers. He followed her swelling belly with his hand and talked to her to keep her calm. “You are going to be a good momma.” A soft muzzle reached back, looking for the carrot she knew he had for her. He couldn’t wait to see what kind of foal she’d throw. He’d bet anything the babe would be big and beautiful, just like her. Yeah, come June she’d be a fine mom. He chuckled and pulled the carrot pieces from his back pocket and held them in a flat hand for her to take. The loneliness he lived in was lessened by Dancer’s affection. It had been a long road to get to this point. Not only for the horse but for him. He came to this ranch under the guise of assuming the role as ranch manager. Manager—hell, he’d never seen a horse, cow, or chicken in person. But he put on the cloak provided for him by Guardian and disappeared into the long, hard workdays where he battled the elements and thousand-pound beef critters. The animals, work, and protection given to him here on the South Dakota ranch had saved him, and because it had, he’d dedicated himself to learning everything he could about ranching. Frank Marshall was one hell of a teacher.
He grabbed the curry comb and gave Dancer some more attention. The mare’s neck stretched out and her upper lip danced when the brush hit her spot.
“You’re spoiling that mare.”
Frank’s voice from the stall door snapped his attention from his musings and the horse. “She’s a survivor, she deserves it.” He’d rescued the horse as a colt. She’d been caught up in barbed wire, the scars were still visible, and she was wild as hell, but when he’d seen her at the livestock auction, it was
love at first sight. He recognized the fear in her eyes and her desire to escape. They were kindred spirits, both forced into a place they didn’t understand, and they both needed to learn how to adapt in order to exist.
“Your plane only landed ten minutes ago.” He gave the horse one last stroke with the comb and turned to his boss and friend. “What’s wrong?”
Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of taffy. He extended his hand into the stall and John shook his head. He knew that gesture meant there were either words of wisdom or words of caution coming. Since he heard the plane bringing the crew back to the ranch land about ten minutes ago, it was safe to infer Frank was not here to check up on what he’d been doing for the last two weeks. “I’ll take my straight talk without the sugar coating.”
Frank pushed his ball cap back on his head and nodded. “Guardian has found something.”
John stepped out of the stall and shut the door behind him. “Regarding?”
“Lori.”
John’s gut dropped to the hardpacked dirt beneath his feet. It took two attempts to draw a deep breath. He’d watched his sister die in a car bomb. A bomb planted by someone within the CIA. “What about her?”
“That’s just it. They aren’t sure. Her name and some numbers were found embedded in code. The numbers could be longitude and latitude.”
“Where was the information embedded?”
“Programming code.” Frank held up a hand. “Don’t know much more than that.”
“I’ve got to go.” His gaze danced around the barn before it settled on Frank, although he saw nothing but the vision of that ball of flames as the car his sister had gotten into exploded.
“I know it. The aircraft is being refueled. Come back when you’re ready. This is your home.” Frank extended his hand. “It may well be nothing.”
He nodded and took his friend’s hand. “I know, but still, if there is any information on who killed Lori…”
“I understand. Get yourself packed. Jason said the same protocol is in effect.”
John nodded. In Washington D.C., his plane would be taxied into a hanger, the doors would be closed and wouldn’t open until he was sequestered inside a blacked-out SUV. No one would know he was in town. Which kept him alive. He glanced back at Dancer.
“Don’t worry. I’ll spoil her while you’re gone,” Frank chuckled when the horse stuck its head out of the stall and nudged his shoulder. “Although, she’s going to miss you.”
John turned and gave his horse one more pat on the neck. “I’ll be back, girl.” He zipped up his coat and grabbed his cap. Frank nodded toward the door. “My truck’s outside. Take it and leave it at the airstrip. I’ll have someone bring it back to this side of the ranch.”
John nodded. “Thank you. For everything.”
Frank grunted. “This ain’t goodbye, son. Get your ass in gear.”
John nodded and started walking to the door and then he jogged. Coordinates. Of what? Her killer? Something else? Only time would tell. Time and access. Thanks to Guardian, he had both.
His wool slacks, open-collar blue linen shirt, cashmere coat, and handmade Italian leather shoes comprised a uniform from years past. He’d worn camouflage for the USA for eight years, but two four-year stints in the Middle East and two purple hearts made getting out and getting on with his life an easy choice when Lori handed him an opportunity he couldn’t resist.
He waited for the security team at Guardian Headquarters to process him through the many catchments and failsafes. No one except those thoroughly vetted by Guardian gained entrance to the facility. There was no public entrance, no pretense or apologies. Guardian’s hierarchy and nerve centers were a fortress that couldn’t be infiltrated.
A soft chime sounded, and the last door lock clicked open. “Mr. Smith, I’m Sonya. I was sent to escort you to CCS. Archangel and Alpha are waiting for you.” A tiny woman in sky-high heels smiled at him and spun on the toe of one of those shoes, setting out at a quick clip. She tossed a quick, “Did you have a good trip?” over her shoulder as she deftly navigated the passages.
John allowed a distracted smile and out of pure ingrained politesse, he assumed words came out of his mouth. What he’d said? He’d never be able to recall. The fact that he was being escorted to Archangel and Alpha the second he entered the facility screamed urgency.
Had they found Lori’s killers? Had they determined who’d ordered her death—and his? If they’d located the bastards, he’d be the one to take them out. He’d be the one to watch the life fade from them. By military training he was a sniper; his father and sister had taught him another talent. One the CIA had latched onto and exploited.
He followed the woman through the halls without further conversation. Sonya stopped at a door and swiped her ID card and then leaned forward and lifted on her toes for a retinal scan. The door opened and he held it for her as she passed through. He glanced at the corridor they were heading down. He hadn’t been here before. There were chairs and benches to the left. To the right were what he assumed were operational theaters. He looked in the one door that remained open. Stadium seating, massive screens, and computer consoles equaled mission control centers in his mind. Three of the theaters had red warning lights illuminated outside, which he assumed meant there were active operations happening. Given what he knew about the size, structure, and scope of Guardian, it was probably a slow day.
Sonya stopped at a vault door, swiped her ID, and entered a code. A light on the camera activated above the door and the lens shifted, almost silently. A disembodied voice from the speaker commanded, “Stand by.”
Sonya smiled up at him and then motioned to the side of the hall where she was standing. “You might want to stand over here.”
John stepped across the hall a split second before the vault door opened and literally thirty people exited the confines. They were laughing and joking. Several had what appeared to be their lunch with them. Most acknowledged Sonya with a wave, nod, or a quiet ‘hey.’ When the flood of people waned, Sonya stepped into the room and he followed her. She turned and pointed up a steep stairway that led to at least ten levels of computer desks.
“The door at the top of the stairs. Sorry, but until they install an elevator, I’m only making that trek in an emergency. Go straight up, you can’t miss it.”
“Thank you.” He took the stairs two at a time and sent his gaze over the setup. The huge monitors at the front of the room were displaying screensavers, and blue lights at the end of each desk level indicating the stations had been sanitized held steady as he walked up the stairs. If he wasn’t so damn anxious about his meeting, he would have loved to find out how the system worked.
The door at the top of the stairs opened. Jacob King waited for him. He jogged up the last fifteen or so steps and extended his hand. “Jacob.”
“John, come on in.”
John walked in and nodded at people he knew from the ranch. Zane, Jewell, Jason, Tori, and Jacob. A family affair.
“John.” Jason motioned him over to a computer bank where Jewell was sitting. “I’m going to cut through all the bullshit. We don’t know what we have, but as it could—and I do mean ‘could’—involve your sister, we brought you in. Jewell, give him the short version of the story.”
Jewell smiled at him. “Okay, we were involved in a case where a Russian hacker infiltrated our systems through a trusted operative. We have the hard drive with the information that he gleaned from our system. We recently had confirmation that some not-so-nice people had a copy or a clone of the hard drive, so I went through it again to make sure we were covered.” She pulled a pencil from her messy bun and twirled it nervously. “I couldn’t find anything, so I went a step farther. I looked into the programming installed on the drive. That’s when I found this.”
The monitor in front of her listed a host of letters and numbers. He stared at them and shook his head. “And this means what?”
Her head went up and down in a vigorous nod. “
Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought when I saw them. But, when I ran it through a program to put them into logical sense, this came up.”
LORI BAKER ENGINEER
“And look, the numbers could be coordinates.” Jewell tapped the keyboard. “These are non-players. They don’t land on anything but ocean. These we’ve eliminated because of various circumstances, but these are the ones we think have potential. They are remote, but there are structures around each of them.”
A sharp snap drove the entire team to their knees. He dropped and shouldered his M-4 as did every other man on the op. With hand signals, Travis sent Ricco and Scuba out on recon. The rest hunkered down and waited. Every nuance of sound was a cautionary study at this point. The satellite pictures of the coordinates they’d been able to obtain through Guardian showed two buildings about a klick further northeast at the river’s edge. It was possible whoever resided in those buildings was making the trek out.
Ricco and Scuba sent a signal to indicate their return. Travis mimicked the low sound, letting them know they were secure and waiting. The two men appeared from the forest and made straight for their skipper.
“A branch broke about five hundred meters southwest. Heavy enough to break through the snow crust. That’s the only thing we saw. No tracks anywhere.” Ricco whispered the report, but they all heard him.
“All right. Harley, head out and get us eyes on those structures. Luke, you’ve got point. Scuba, Ricco, you’re on our flanks. Coach, you’ve got our six. John, you’re with me. Let’s go.”
John (Guardian Defenders Book 3) Page 1
