SAFE HAVENS: Shadow Masters (A Sean Havens Black Ops Novel Book 1)

by J. T. Patten

  “Aye, aye.”

  “Aye, aye, my ass. Out.”

  Prescott Draeger sat back in his faux leather chair.

  Harrison can be manipulated, but he isn’t stupid. He wants his own lane to work in. That will actually work well for the bigger plan.

  Draeger switched his thinking from Harrison to Havens. Courting Havens would not be easy. He would stay away from the funeral citing temporary duty restraints in Djibouti. This was going to be a tough chess match, but if Draeger could just keep at arm’s length with Mann as the primary handler things would go fine.

  Draeger never told Mann that they had lost Havens for a bit and were still unsure as to how he arrived in Dubai. It was just part of the wild card they would be dealing with in Havens. He too would take enough rope to be hung with later. Havens was dangerous, but he was not as ruthless as PASSPORT. The decision was easy. He would do what it takes to achieve what was asked.

  Taking out John, one of the Agency’s case officers after requesting Agency help had been risky, but fortunately there was a stay-behind Pond singleton asset still in place that could be tapped for the opportunity and made it look random enough. PASSPORT came through big time on that as he always did. Fucker had a finger everywhere.

  Play the story, tell the story, and make the story stick. All would go fine. At least he would not have to have any more basement beer parties at Havens’. Wine was much more his style. He could go for a glass right now and certainly not in a wood paneled man cave with those Neanderthals. Such men were not his friends. They were beneath him. They were his tools.

  Draeger felt that he had paid his dues in tents, shanties, and freezing cold or scalding hot safe houses in so many shit holes of the world. Each one of those shit hole places ended had criminal problems that always ended up on U.S. turf. And here the U.S. was looking to cut defense spending further?

  Deployments were a waste of time to him when the root problems were here domestically. Why chop at the tail when you could whack the heads? Why live with uncertainty? In short time he would help change that.

  To Draeger, the military had failed to understand that the human dimension of conflict demanded too much in lives, resources, and sociopolitical will for this nation to stomach. He believed that true ‘left of bang’ was found by creating opportunity before tensions turned violent or before there was a surprise event. Men like Draeger and Havens could raise tension and move nations towards conflict but also use surprise to give the offense the most options. Of course their specialty was to make it look like the bad guy was always willing to attack but not quite ready to. The key to having the most policy options, lowering engagement costs, and minimizing the loss of American lives was to punch first. Even if it meant punching Americans first through minions.

  And his minions, if Draeger had it his way, would be the best utility that operators could offer—dependability and expendability. He may have to tweak their lives a bit, but that was all part of the assessment, recruitment, and handling of men. Havens, among others, was an end to a means.

  Draeger’s band of domestic merry men would get this fight going and then they could take it to all ends of the earth. Amplify and accelerate. Be agile, resilient, and compete more effectively than your adversary is capable of. Be merciless with no social or value limitations. His men wouldn’t have to want to destroy; they just had to be influenced to the point of being willing to destroy. Destroy for him. And Draeger had no limits. Havens would be the perfect proxy under these circumstances. And he could be left as the mess for someone else to clean up or take out.

  It was finalized in Draeger’s mind. Napa 2011 blended red, The Prisoner, tonight. Not real fancy but real good. Worthy of his palate.

  Chapter 16

  Havens composed himself as best he could in the situation and shook off his stinging hand. A mid-force jaw punch dropped the rude and hurried German businessman quickly in the bathroom two terminals over. It was unlike Havens to ever pick a fight that was not associated with an operation. His blood was boiling and he was having a hard time controlling himself. Christina had been so good at talking him down and keeping him focused. They had been working on it now for several years. It helped him deal with things. Things he never talked about.

  He called Red back. Red, fully understanding, had waited patiently in his office for the return call that he knew would come when the time was right. Sean couldn’t let things fester. He was soft that way. On the call Sean did a lot of rambling but asked if Red would be around during the weekend. Sean thought the need may arise to just talk some things out amidst the turmoil.

  As Red hung up he took a moment to put himself in Havens’ shoes. Talk? Red was also a father though he was no longer married. Even when he was married, he rarely considered himself as the head of a family unit. Red’s unit was on the East Coast. Everything else was a personal window treatment for what people said was important in life. He would actually be happy if someone killed his ex-wife and had often thought of doing it himself. For that he was envious of Havens to be rid of that baggage.

  In Red’s heart he knew killing his two girls’ mother was certainly not in the best interests of his kids whom he loved in concept but never saw. In truth, he really didn’t miss being home or away from his kids, it was the concept that he should.

  Sean had given up work on the teams so he could be home more often and for longer periods of time. Sean also wanted to live remotely from the teams, the military, and the life of an operator. The team hadn’t been happy about Havens’ decisions but they understood. Red really couldn’t understand. There was the mission, and there was the mission. It was a commitment that most men had signed up for long before they complicated things with family affairs.

  Red struggled with the thought that he would need to be there for Sean and at the same time as this weekend’s rare custody visit with the kids. He really didn’t even have plans for the kids. He just knew it was his weekend for a change and his wife owed it to him. The kids would just watch TV and text their friends while they were at Red’s house. He was free to come and go.

  If he called his ex and said he had to change weekends, she would let the kids pack their bags and then tell them at the last minute that their father was not coming and blame him for the insensitivity. He never understood how a mother could be so cruel to her own. Even if she was a whore who slept with his teammates while he was overseas.

  Screw families. It was the brotherhood he loved. No need to talk. Hanging out and BS-ing worked fine.

  Havens was going to continue his travel plans and pick up the next leg in Frankfurt. He was on autopilot now, emotionally at a low simmering flame after mentally slowing his adrenaline-heightened body. Any added fuel would cause him to boil over. He kept breathing through the heaviness in his chest.

  Stay cool. We have to get through this. Need to find out what went wrong. Keep moving, one foot in front of the other. Don’t shut down. Just get home.

  Havens dialed another number. When his handler Jason answered, Havens informed him that he wanted to change the plane ticket for a direct flight from Germany to Chicago. He appreciated the offer to go on the Gulfstream but he simply did not want to talk.

  “We need you to be on the Gulfstream. I know it is difficult but it is the only way we can debrief you on your trip. We are very sorry for your loss, but we don’t have an alternative. We can keep it short; you can take a break. Your buddy Red said that he would even make the trip with you from New York to Chicago on the jet. There will only be an hour difference or so, and we can be done to let you carry on with family business.”

  Family business? My family is dead because of you. “Who was watching my family while I was away?”

  “C’mon, you know that is not our protocol. You are paid extra and given an extensive budget, not just for your overseas work, but for your domestic support infrastructure. I don’t want to go there with you now as I know you are grieving. I humbly cannot tell you enough how bad I feel for your l
oss. Security for your family falls to you. We intervene when it involves you. We have to cut the line somewhere.”

  “You did not just say that to me.”

  “Hey, blame the people who killed them, blame the criminal activity that surrounds your family and neighborhood, blame the world we live in, but please don’t blame the people you work for who are trying to make a difference out there like you are.”

  Jason rarely said more than a few words to Havens even when they were face to face in secure, controlled environments. If Jason was taking this posture maybe there was something to it. Havens felt bad for the finger-pointing when the finger ultimately came back to him.

  “Sorry. You are right.” It is my fault. I wasn’t there. I didn’t take precautions.

  Havens noticed some security guards coming his way. What are you guys up to?

  Jason continued. “Listen, get on the plane. Use the itinerary we have set up for you, and no funny business.”

  “Funny business? You should talk. What the hell was all that in Sana’a?” Havens lowered his voice. “And do you know anything about some mugs who are approaching me now?”

  “See, we have a lot to talk about on the plane. Wait. Wha’d you say? No one has been authorized on our end for contact. What’s up?”

  The guards stopped. One was looking at Havens while the other radioed and looked back down the terminal walkway.

  “You there? Get on that flight. And one more thing. I will see if I can get Red authorized to bring you a file on the assault and some individuals that we have confirmed are involved. You really shouldn’t be privy to this but given the situation and your background I know you would want to know and be somewhat involved. I will have that on the plane in New York for you.”

  “OK. I will be there. I gotta figure out what is going on here.”

  “Hey, there are no ties to you for anything. I’m not saying you are seeing ghosts, but it could be the stress too. You are practically home free now. Just get to the plane.”

  “Hey, you there?”

  A Caucasian man had now run towards the guards. They nodded in Havens direction. He looked familiar. Perhaps from DC. He was coming towards Havens. Havens looked around for others surveilling him or closing in. Tensing like a jaguar ready to spring, Havens remembered he was a business guy again. No, he thought to himself. He really didn’t know this guy after all. He looked like the State Department guy, who looked the same as every other State Department guy.

  He tried to remain calm. Business guys do not jump at their potential adversary with Baguazhang punches to the sternum or Jujutsu attack to the larynx. Business guys worry about missing their flight, taking a shit on a clean toilet, brushing their teeth after a long flight, and checking their email.

  The man approaching was now smiling and slowing down, a bit out of breath.

  “Hey,” he said, outstretching his hand to Havens. “Glad I found you. I am an attaché here. Defense. Just got word that you were coming through here instead of Kuwait.”

  “Um, what’s your business? I am guessing you didn’t just drive over from Kuwait for me. I don’t know you. Who are you and what do you need? I don’t know anyone in Defense or know what an attaché is aside from a briefcase. I work for…” Havens stalled. He never forgot his cover legends. His mouth was still open as he was thinking.

  Who the hell do I work for? What passport am I using now? Fuck.

  “Hey, OK, no matter. I gotcha. It’s cool. Word is you are trying to get home quick. I was instructed by someone who was instructed by John to get you back with no hassles. I work with DSS and the CoS here some. We pulled some strings to get you through quickly. C’mon.”

  “Wait. No. I have a very specific itinerary that my company has set up for me. I am not sure why you are involved due to some favor for John. I think John knew where I stood about more involvement from outsiders.”

  “Don’t worry. My office knows all about it. Consider us ‘insiders.’” He winked knowingly at Havens while making quotation gestures with his fingers.

  The wink Havens had gotten throughout his career was usually when someone didn’t have a need to know but were assuming that they could be included in the secrecy. More often than not, it meant a breach. The field was too deadly for breaches, especially when wannabes and posers tried to get groupie-close to ops.

  “Who is your office?”

  “DIA, brother,” the attaché whispered as he looked over his shoulder in a horrible display of being discrete.

  “OK, this ends here. I appreciate your help but I really need you to leave me alone and let me get on my way.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. We have you covered and I am declared here already. I’d like to talk to you about Yemen a bit while we walk.”

  Havens swiftly stepped in to the man’s space, grabbing the so-called attaché’s tie with his left hand and grabbing the man’s balls with a lower right iron clutch squeezing immediately while holding up the man’s posture with the convenient neck noose.

  “You will fucking back away from me now. I appreciate any gesture from John, but I have found that you guys do more harm than good where I am concerned. Stand fucking down and keep anyone else away that you all have in your pocket trying to help me. Understood?”

  The silent gasping affirmation of rapid head nods and tears was accepted as a “Yes.”

  Havens continued on his way nodding to the security guards as he passed and thanking them by saying, “Shukran jazeelan.”

  They nodded and replied, “Aafwan.”

  At least this American spoke Arabic to them and had formal courtesies, they thought to themselves. The guards walked away with nothing further to say to this annoying embassy man whom they believed to be American CIA. They figured all Americans here were probably CIA. And they all needed favors and asked too many questions, in English nonetheless. It was offensive. The Americans were guests here and treat us so inconsiderately. They need to learn their place. They should go home to their own problems. Let this other guy go. At least he was going and not staying like the others.

  The next leg of Havens’ flight was torturous. He couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to eat, and most certainly did not want to talk or be talked to. He kept to his own thoughts while parrying all conversations coming his way, and soon his own thoughts were a menace to his well-being.

  He grabbed a newspaper that had been stuffed in the seat pocket. Usual budget crisis and job loss issues. He saw that there was an attack on the tomb of Lincoln that was evidently affiliated with the killing of a State Representative from one of the House intelligence committees who was vacationing on a boat in Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri. It stated that the explosives were HME, British military, and were set off by a magnesium based detonator timed by the bilge water in-flow. Pretty heavy action for the Midwest.

  Who the hell kills a no-name Rep in Missouri? Probably banging someone’s wife or daughter.

  Chapter 17

  The doctors at Northwestern Memorial Hospital continued to work on both the head and body wounds of an intubated Maggie Havens. Wounds in both regions had passed through the body with the head trauma still life threatening. She had been found with barely a pulse when they went to body bag her.

  Maggie’s surgical team had been working against the intracranial and intracerebral hematomas through a craniotomy while simultaneously working against the mounting cranial pressure on the other side of the wound. IV fluids and transfusions continued to flow to maintain fluid balance while clotting concentrates now worked against the persistent bleeding sites.

  C’mon kid. Hang in there. Fight for me.

  The neurosurgeon worked a closed suction drain. A neurologist continued to monitor the hematoma evacuations.

  “Stay with us Maggie,” a surgical nurse continued encouraging. “You can make it kiddo.”

  A medical intern observing her first brain trauma surgery looked around the room for any eye contact that could reassure her of the likely outcome.

 
Is this girl able to even make it? Why are you working so hard if she is going to die in the next twenty-four hours anyway? Breathe, Andrea. You can do this. Don’t let them see you freaking out. Breathe.

  A surgical fellow looked over to check his intern, Andrea. He saw her wide distant eyes and recognized the concern. “She could still make it.” He knew he had to reassure these interns. “What do you think? Still on board?”

  “Will she even be able to function?” replied the intern.

  The neurologist looked up and over, “Now that the bleeding has subsided, we will watch the pressure for the next day or so. She will likely be in a coma and if she regains consciousness could lose basic and or complex motor skills. Her behavior could become modified as well. She will certainly need long-term care and rehabilitation. But I have a good feeling about this one. She’s fought for hours here on the table. She’s died twice.”

  Life support monitors began to sound. The room filled with warnings. Doctors stopped what they were doing and frantically started new procedures.

  “We’re losing pressure. She is crashing. I am losing pulse. C’mon kid, keep fighting!”

  Chapter 18

  After landing in New York, Havens was escorted to the private jet hangars by an attendant who said nothing other than, “Sir, you will follow me please.” They walked through the terminal rapidly.

  Havens saw some young soldiers, perhaps reservists toting large duffels and rucks. It was clear they were going overseas. Havens regarded their shoulder patches to discern their unit affiliations. General infantry. Big Red 1. They looked so young.

  The men paid him no notice as they passed. He had so much knowledge that he could share with them. No time now. He hoped someone had properly prepared the men. He thought of the contractors in Yemen. Wayward souls. Someone should have mentored them better.