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

by J. T. Patten

  He looked back as they moved on down the terminal. Straps were dangling down like a dozen air assault fast ropes.

  The attendant reminded Havens of the time constraint. She could tell he was lost in thought.

  “Wait a sec.” Havens dropped his own small bag at the attendant’s feet.

  “Sir, we have to go.”

  “They’ll wait for me,” he said as he left. “Hey guys!”

  The soldiers turned around looking to the ground to see if they had dropped something. Havens ran up to the young men.

  “Guys, you need to secure these straps better. Here. Tuck them in so they don’t catch on anything. Lift this here. Private, get some duct tape if you don’t have it and fix that strap. It won’t bear your load with that rip. Get if fixed ASAP.”

  “Thanks, sir. You a soldier?”

  “Of sorts.” Havens tugged another strap to make it tighter. It raised the load a good couple inches and relieved some pressure off the soldier’s lower back. “Better?”

  “Better. Thanks.”

  “OK guys, I gotta run. Be safe. And hey, get to know your terps. Bring them a gift. Be considerate of them and ask a lot of questions. The interpreters will be your lifeline to knowledge. Don’t make them promises you can’t keep, like helping their families come to America. They have been doing this for years now and know you can’t do shit about that stuff.”

  Havens shook the men’s hands and ran back to the attendant who was now on the phone assuring someone they were on their way.

  “Sorry. I had to. They needed my help.”

  Boarding the G650 ultra high-speed jet, Sean immediately saw Red who was outstretching a Starbucks coffee black with sugar, no cream, the way Havens liked it, and a Heineken. Havens didn’t care much for Heinekens and Red knew this. Havens knew which one was his, and for the first time in what seemed like days he had a brief happy moment.

  “A sight for sore eyes, my friend.” Havens reached for the coffee. And to think that all that time in Yemen, I would have just had to call Red for a Starbucks.

  “Who’s a sight for sore eyes? Me or the coffee?” Red smiled. He knew it was inappropriate to joke, but in uncomfortable situations he had to make light of things. He knew Sean did the same.

  During one particularly hairy situation that he and Havens found themselves in, silence was absolutely required to avoid detection from a heavily armed sentry patrol. They had to remain absolutely still and quiet for safety. After nearly a week’s worth of in-country boiled goat and lentils, Red decided this would be the perfect time to fart, rendering himself and Havens helpless to their suppressed laughter and the horrific smell.

  Red managed to get out “I think they passed” and choked out “no pun intended” before receiving a kidney punch from Havens to cut it out. It was a story that rarely went untold in the presence of a few beers and friends who, despite having heard the story dozens of times, couldn’t wait to hear it again. It was obligatory to tell the tale when someone passed gas in the company of others. Humor had managed to stave off death for both men to this point. Now was as good a time as any for a little levity.

  “Both you and the coffee. Even the Heineken looks good.” Havens managed a smile back.

  The smile faded upon seeing Jason and their counterintelligence officer, Rusty. This meant business. Back to reality.

  Havens looked back at Red for a moment. It struck him as funny.

  Red and Rusty—couldn’t have planned that if they wanted to.

  “Hey, do you two firebushes know each other?”

  Havens received two freckled fingers flipping him off.

  “Sean, have a seat, finish your coffee, and we can get started in a bit. Then I will get out of your hair.”

  “Did you pack a parachute?” chided Havens nodding to the window.

  “Funny.” Jason paused. “Sean, I…”

  “I know,” Havens said, waving off the condolences.

  “No, I don’t think you do. Red, can you inform Sean on the somewhat positive news?”

  Sean Havens looked at his friend. Give me something good, brother. I need it.

  “Sean, this is no promise, and it could go south on us, but for the time being it appears that Maggie is alive. She wasn’t dead on scene. There was evidently a pulse. I saw only the buses driving away. I saw one body bag and no one said she was being rushed off with any hope.”

  Seeing Havens about to talk, Red raised his hand for Havens to wait.

  “Now let me finish. The intruders shot Maggie in the head and abdomen. Doctors stopped the abdominal bleeding and they are comfortable with the head trauma, short of swelling for now and of course any potential brain damage. The doctors lost her on the table a number of times and she is now in a coma. We will just have to wait and see. I didn’t know she had even made it that far.”

  Thank God. My baby. You’ve got to pull through.

  Astounded by the news, Sean acknowledged their efforts. “OK. Thanks. Thanks, guys. OK. I can work with that.” He gave pause again. “But Christina, she’s…”

  “No, Sean, they were not able to save your wife. She’s gone.”

  “I understand. Long shot. You know how it can be when you just don’t leave something right with someone. I left it bad with her.”

  Havens let out a long exhale.

  “Fill me in with what happened, who did it, and where they are in the investigation. Red said they called my brother-in-law as a next of kin while I was away. Is he looking into this?”

  Jason had a quizzical look on his face. “Sean, why would your brother-in-law get involved?”

  “He’s a forensic specialist. Chief Investigator for CPD. Hell, if it was any further north in the city he would have potentially been called to the scene direct.”

  Jason looked at Red who shrugged. “What? I thought you knew about Lars. What’s the big deal?”

  Jason looked down at his hands, his fingers bent to touch the palms. They were moist.

  Havens caught the movement.

  Jason looked up at Sean.

  “I just never saw it in your file and was surprised that no one had mentioned this before. I heard some brother-in-law was coming in from Arizona, which was another surprise. I certainly didn’t know he was in Chicago. It really could have helped us to ensure the investigation was properly handled with someone who has a vested interest.”

  Havens informed Jason that his brother-in-law was on vacation in Arizona to watch Cubs spring training.

  “You probably never saw it in any file because Christina had a different last name when I married her. She had been married for a very short time but kept the married name. Guess she hated the name Bjorklund more than her ex and held on to the bastard’s name. Most of my background checks were done when I was single. They must not have hit it on the last SCI clearance periodic review. Maggie is mine, though.”

  I always do that.

  Havens wondered why he always had to add siring ownership to Maggie when he told others about Christina having been married before. Though not an insecure man, Havens still took some slight issue or embarrassment with Christina’s past marriage. It wasn’t her fault, nor was it really the fault of her ex. They were just young. Too young. They thought they were in love and didn’t think the pulls of the world could tempt a young couple still in college.

  “No biggie, Jason. You probably just didn’t have the need to know. That information comes above your pay grade. You’d need to be a GS-12.” Havens smiled at the fun little jab to his government grade 15 boss.

  Havens’ supervisor, Jason, was making less than his subordinate, Havens, who was now “officially” a contractor. Pay and grade scale were an issue for Jason, who didn’t want to leave government and was hoping for a DISL senior executive service level promotion. It was further off than Jason expected. He was too nice of a guy, always going with the flow. Indeed, nice guys did not get ahead in this business. The nation’s capital was a war zone of type A personalities fighting their way
to the top.

  Jason brushed off the jab. “That’s fine. We just want the best. We are trying to keep our arms around those who could help.”

  Havens appreciated the sentiment.

  “Not really, Jason. If this ended up being a CI issue, we would rather everyone keep away.” Rusty’s interjection was quickly met by Red’s counter.

  “Aw shit, Russ, I chased that boy down myself. He wasn’t any KGB, GRU, SAVAK, MOIS, whatever. He was G-A-N-G banger. Now what the hell he was doing there, I have no clue, and we will likely never know now that those guys got all capped and dead when they got home to the hood. You spook chasers think everything is a fucking conspiracy. Maybe the CIA was involved…wooo.” Red wiggled his fingers like ghosts were about.

  He continued, “No offense bro, it just seems like a stretch. And I know us beautiful red heads have to stay together, but I don’t see it and don’t see getting our pants all up our ass about it.”

  Jason was silently relieved by the deflection. He had heard something in the Pentagon office while in DC that involved the Havens murder case and his boss, Prescott Draeger. It seemed that Draeger wanted to ensure nothing went awry in the case, and Jason was unsure as to whether this brother-in-law would help or hinder an investigation. Since he didn’t know who Draeger was on the line with, it was probably best to leave it alone.

  Jason essentially liked Havens but was rarely at ease around him. Jason felt like an outsider coming from the NSA as a technical intelligence systems expert, despite the fact that he had been with a group of covert technical intelligence operators in Afghanistan as a fiber optics guru working with the “shooters.” Draeger had been his boss for a time with “Orange.”

  It felt like high school for Jason when Havens was around. Jason, who was more of a techie geek, who on occasion was befriended by the popular guy whom everyone liked to be around, didn’t resent Havens. He just wanted to be Havens. Jason never wanted to be Draeger; he just knew Draeger could get him far, so he followed.

  Red was excused to another compartment of the jet while Havens debriefed his supervisor about Yemen. Jason had provided feedback that the desired outcome had been achieved with some small uprisings already occurring that would stage as a nice cover for this week’s follow on clandestine activity to strike suspected terror cells, renditioning financiers, and gain more funding support from Washington based on the clearly unstable country.

  Jason had admitted a problem with their Agency support and apologized for the passports and legends. They all knew this was a challenge to their operations but certainly better than operating in true name. “Add it to the list of things to fix when op tempo slows,” he said. “Chances are, the current federal cuts will make it worse before better, anyway.”

  It also appeared that Jason was completely unaware of why Havens was detained at the airport and was genuinely surprised when Havens had turned up in Dubai.

  Rusty took Havens’ third throw away phone, tucking it into a plastic bag and assured he would call “Tech” and have the relay disconnected and the phone properly handled. Rusty gave Havens another phone to use domestically for the week if Sean was unable to retrieve his personal phone at his own residence. Havens didn’t keep his personal phone at home, unbeknownst to Rusty. He took the phone nonetheless. It wasn’t like the old days of isolation and cleansing of all items that could get the team into trouble. No one on his team was even allowed to have a tattoo, lest it give them away as Americans if caught.

  Upon landing in Chicago, the group settled on a day and time for a follow-up conversation to discuss any ramifications of the Havens’ home invasion on their covert operations. Rusty pulled Havens off to the side in what appeared to be another CI lecture.

  CI was always in the guys’ shorts about something.

  “Hey, Sean, I know you want to go, so I will make this real short. We were never that close or anything and I know I left you high and dry on a couple occasions. Especially Iran.”

  “Rusty, this is not the time.”

  “No, man, hear me out. Most guys don’t know that my wife and kids were killed by a drunk driver one night while I was deployed not too long ago. We’re coming up on almost a year now.”

  “Shit, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, man, I know, but what I am trying to say is, I’ve been there. Let me know if you ever want to talk. I got some help and am getting through it. It’s harder than you think it will be. I’m kinda sorting things out myself. Losses like that aren’t supposed to happen.”

  “Hey, Sean, you coming?”

  “Yeah, Red, hold on. Be right there.”

  “Thanks, Rusty. I appreciate the words.”

  “More than words, man. Let me know if I can help. For real. I’m going to look long and hard into this situation.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Be well, my brother.” Rusty reached out and the two briefly embraced in a short bro hug with the one hit shoulder pat. “I’m in the area every now and again, so ring me up if you need.”

  “Roger that, Russ.”

  “Hey, everything OK?” asked Red. “Never thought you and Rusty got on.”

  “We don’t. Or, didn’t. Things change.”

  Red dropped Havens off at the hospital. Havens promised to give Red an update either that night or first thing in the morning. Havens thanked Red for his help and being there and offered the recommendation that Red call his own kids that night.

  “You read my mind, brother. I have been thinking of them nonstop.”

  “I will talk to you later and update you on the services when I call Christina’s brother.”

  “Sounds good. You hang in there.”

  “I’m hangin’.” Havens took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He shut the door, gave the top of the car a couple pats as a final send off, and went to find his daughter.

  Havens was led by a nurse to his daughter who remained in intensive care. The nurse shared what she knew about Maggie’s condition and the overall “unofficial” prognosis, but promised to call the doctor upstairs for a full update.

  The tubes, machines, and bandages were illuminated in the darkness of the room by a florescent light on the bed’s side. The post-surgery life support scene was overwhelming for Havens but much more welcomed than the news he had originally received of her death.

  Havens had yet to go back mentally and start the coping process of losing Christina. He knew that feeling would still be there, but tucked away for now so he could take care of his daughter. He felt that Christina was somehow there with him and that as parents they were doing what was right. She would understand.

  Havens entered the darkened room and immediately felt another presence. A presence beyond his daughter in the bed. He followed his senses to the back corner of the room, fully cast in shadows and darkness. A hulking mass sat in a chair waiting, not in vigil, but for Sean Havens’ return.

  Chapter 19

  The mass in the room was snoring. That same snoring mass could be heard every few weeks in the family room of the Havenses’ residence after everyone had locked up and gone to bed. He would sit in the darkness with one hand on the remote control asleep while Sports Center daily recaps continued on. He could outlast his hosts but never worried about outstaying a welcome.

  The mass was among family at his sister’s house. An abrupt snore would wake him to be quickly replaced by momentary disorientation. Lars Bjorklund would wipe his mouth from residual drool, turn off the T.V., quietly grab a glass of water in the kitchen, take his tweed Irish Donegal cap from the closet, set the house alarm, and lock the doors before climbing into his car and driving northward to his Bridgeport, Chicago bachelor pad.

  Sean now gave his brother-in law a gentle kick and shove with his foot.

  “I’m not sleeping, Sean. I heard those loud footfalls a mile away while you were talking to the nurse.”

  “And the snoring?”

  “A ruse to keep intruders in their comfort zone.”

&nb
sp; “And you would then pounce on them like a cat?”

  “More like a mountain lion. A ninja mountain lion. I am spry under this façade of layering and big-bonededness.”

  “Is big-bonededness a word?”

  “Been using it all my life. If it wasn’t a word, I made it one to suit my structure.”

  “Structure, huh.”

  The mass shook in silent laughter as it got up from the chair. The darkness made Lars Bjorklund look even bigger. Lars slowly walked over to Havens like a bear on two legs stretching out of hibernation. Tree trunk-sized arms opened like a giant condor wingspan before enveloping Havens in a heavy embrace.

  Havens had witnessed those same arms swinging a wooden bat at a 16” softball and effortlessly sending it well over 400 feet. The man was a yeti.

  Lars’ hug lifted Havens from his feet.

  “I’m so sorry Sean, I am so sorry.”

  “Easy Lennie, you are crushing me.”

  Lars, a 6’6” roughly 350 lb.-Swede chuckled, “OK, Georgie.”

  “Lars, I am sorry about Christina. I should have been there for her.”

  Havens saw Lars amidst the glowing medical lights wipe the tears rolling down his cheek.

  “No, Sean, you always took real good care of my sister. This was not your fault. And I am going to raise holy hell at the station again tomorrow too. I haven’t been to the house yet, but I am going to make sure they didn’t miss anything. They said the perps have all ended up dead but I want to look that place over top to bottom for anything. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Thanks, Lars.”

  Havens knew Lars was going to do whatever he wanted anyway so there was no point reasoning with him or trying to stop him at this point. Frankly, Havens wanted Lars’ view on it all anyway. The whole situation didn’t jive how gang-related street thugs were linked to the rape. He had learned on the plane that the thugs weren’t even hard core gangbangers.

  The rape. I completely forgot she was raped.

  Having broken from Lars, Havens grabbed Maggie’s taped and tubed hand. He bent to kiss his daughter’s cheek, not knowing if a kiss on the head could hurt anything more.