by J. T. Patten
“Like, what’s he done? You never really told me aside from getting out of some scrapes.”
“Well clearly you can’t keep your mouth shut.”
“Clearly you can’t either, so don’t go bustin’ my chops. Give me something.”
“Pretty much this guy was considered a surgical instrument mold for the future. Dudes like me fit more of the conventional profile of covert smash and grab door-kicking operators and usually had to get jammed into discrete operating platforms. What that means was the country didn’t do as many black ops when they thought too big of a footprint would get us pinched.”
“So Havens doesn’t get pinched?” Daniels raised his eyebrows suggesting that maybe Havens was more involved in the murder.
“Nah, bro. This isn’t his style. Havens works ops that are considered ‘unacknowledged’ and ‘waived’ status for clandestine intel, ops, and support stuff. That way he and the program details and funding don’t get linked to the actual programs. Only a small handful of guys even have access to the same programs, and if they do, they really don’t even know the true purpose of the program or mission.”
Daniels whistled. “So this is a bad dude.”
“He’s bad, but mostly he’s smart. Thing that I never liked about black ops stuff is you are in the middle of it, don’t know about all of it, and you can’t let that bother you. So to me, it means you are really trusting, a bit off, or your moral compass is spinning at light speed. Most guys can’t do the work for too long. Havens has been at it a long time.
“I see. So why do they do it?”
“The thrills probably. The black can be pretty fucking exhilarating. You see firsthand that things get done by your direct efforts. About as tip of the spear as you get. But I think of it like black ops are fought in some dark abyss. You have to trade your soul to play. Dedication, honor, and all that jazz drive the priority of the mission. Fucked up thing is those who emerge from the abyss may come out alive but are real casualties. Kills their souls.”
“Man, you’re giving me the chills.” Daniels shook his head in disbelief and just stared out his side window.
Neil continued. “Bro, blind ops mean you have to trust the program is real and within the law. What is cool about Havens is he has to totally trust that someone has his back and that there is total integrity from all who play their parts. If you ask me, someone didn’t do their part on this one. I don’t know what that’s going to mean.”
“So can you call in some favors to your bubbas?”
“And say, what? This shit Havens is into is unknown and disavowed. You just sign your name, social, and date, and the dudes with the forms don’t always know what’s up. All closed door shit. I’m not sticking my nose anywhere near it. Leave that world to those guys. Chi-town’s our shit. Let’s leave it at that. If this guy finds out who took out his wife before we do, there is going to be a hell of a mess for someone to clean up and you will never even know Havens was there. It will either be up close and personal for someone or they will just get randomly smoked by someone or something that makes no sense to them.”
“He is a pretty cool cat.”
“He’s a damn death dealer who thinks he is beyond it because he can hold down a family and likes to mow the lawn on Saturdays. Pissed off some of his old team members too. Clearly he didn’t do as good of a job as he thought he could do and sad as it is to say, may have gotten a taste of his own poison.”
“Dude probably sat on the edge of those graves of the gang bangers roasting marshmallows as he toasted those guys up.”
“No doubt. Surprised he didn’t go kill their crew. Means he could still do it or he is actually leveled enough to think this whole thing out.”
“Do you think he will tell Lars we came by?”
“Not sure. He will probably sit on this for a bit unless he can use it to get inside Lars’ head. I don’t know if they are close or not. He and Lars are both a bit standoffish, so who knows? They could probably sit in the same room for a week and not say anything to each other and have a great time. But either way, if he does say something we will know soon. Maybe the shit with Lars is his personal situation, maybe it is political, maybe that dude is just all fucked up. But Lars is acting sketchy, that’s for sure. Even more of a prick lately. And if he doesn’t say anything, maybe Havens will keep an eye on him too. Win, win.”
“I dunno. I think both of these guys have just seen some personal shit and they are not as used to it affecting them. Think about it. You see dead people all the time, maybe even have a hand in it most of the time, but when it happens on your side of the fence, they probably are a bit conflicted emotionally. Don’t know if they should shut it out or if they should deal with it like normal people.”
“Maybe.”
“What would you do if it was you?”
“Hmmm. I’d want someone to pay dearly.” Detective Neil pounded his steering wheel in emphasis.
Though he didn’t have a family he could put himself easily in Havens’ shoes. His whole move to the police department was so he could spend more time in the states and less time in shit holes around the world. He also had a great reserve commander who had gotten the whole team some help after their last tour. His ODA came to love their circle time for some emotional decompression. They were tighter than ever and dealing with their demons very well. Life was good again for those men and their families. They were among a growing group of men who realized they had to deal with some shit inside if they were to lead normal lives and have healthy relationships.
“And what if you were involved somehow. What would you do or how would you be acting?”
“I’d be sad on the outside, play the support card, and then think of distancing myself from it all until the coast was clear and start over.”
“My money is on Havens just sitting tight and being pretty screwed up over this whole thing. Agree?”
“Agree. If his people did it, he will go after them directly. He’ll do more than burn up a couple gangbangers. So that leaves us with Lars.”
“I don’t think Lars has the criminal contacts to pull this off. Even if he had gambling debts or some shit like that this whole mess isn’t a loan shark thing. It’s more black, like that Will Smith movie when the NSA was trying to kill him for getting some spy disk or something.”
“That was a cool movie. Gene Hackman blew up his own place after he got his cat out. I hate cats. What are we going to do with this dog?”
“I don’t know. I kinda thought Havens would be a good person for that dog.”
“The dog is a frickin’ monster.”
“No shit. Feel bad for it, but I think it severed the nerves in that kid’s hand. Just hate to see them put that beast down. Dog did good work. A fucking hero. Just messed up now. Not its fault.”
“Damn thing could eat a hero. Oooo. I could eat a big hero sandwich.”
“Just need to find it a safe place before they put it down.”
“See, perfect for Havens. Two peas in a pod. Ooo, or Chinese food with pea pods.”
“That guy is anything but safe.”
“Same goes for the dog. Hot dog would be good too.”
“Dude, let’s get you something to eat so you shut up.”
The two men chuckled at the thought of the man and beast together, both damaged goods.
Havens remained standing for a moment in the entryway. He turned around and slammed the back of his head against the closed door. The artisan woodwork edge pained his scalp. Christina had looked for over a year to find this specific door. She didn’t know what she wanted but said she would know it when she saw it. And when she saw it they bought it. It was a lot for a door. He thought it would bleach in the sun. It hadn’t yet. This is not how he had expected his life to be.
He thought about what he needed to do today. Only a small part of it consisted of what he wanted to do which was spend time with his daughter. He was starting to lose hope for her recovery. But he knew he would still go to the hospit
al. That was a given. He knew he needed to talk to Harrison. And he needed to call Jason and Rusty to see how many people had been read on to his programs over the years and who they were. Was there anyone who could have a score to settle?
Ridiculous. I only accept my tasks, do my work and hand it off to someone else. My work is good and no one has ever been burned on my advance ops fixing the space for their work. Even my hits were clean.
He looked across the room. So quiet. So empty. He spotted a cordless phone sitting out of place on the arm of a sofa in the sitting room. Havens reached into his back pocket and stared at the detectives’ cards. If he was going to get out of this mess he would need some help.
Detective Neil fumbled for his ringing cell phone while maneuvering through the drive thru lane.
“Bring over that dog tomorrow. Sometime in the evening. I want two bags of food, a 20’ foot leader nylon leash, a choke collar, and a size 3 soccer ball.”
“You think you’re Oprah?”
“You want me to take the dog?”
“Done. What is a size 3 soccer ball?”
“You are a detective. Figure it out. What’s its name?”
“Jeez ok. So dog, leash, collar, food, and you get your own size 3 soccer ball. And give it whatever name you want.”
“Done. I am also calling my old CI guy to see if there may be anything that can help you guys. Will keep you posted. Out.” Havens hung up the phone. Well that was dumb. I wonder how big this dog is anyway.
“Don’t tell me that was him asking for the dog.”
“Yep.”
“Shit. It was funnier when I didn’t think it would happen.”
“That’s what I was just thinking. Hope it doesn’t eat his hand.”
Chapter 40
Harrison called Draeger while driving into the city. Draeger was on his third cup of coffee, which meant he was behind his usual amount for this time of day. A routine that went on nearly 24/7.
Harrison said, “Havens and I are going to meet up today. I have given him some time to look over the requirements so he has been nugging pretty hard to come up with some courses of action. How are things in the ivory tower?”
“All good today. I assume you are still juicing his daughter so there is no effective recovery process?”
“Correct. Old DEA days contacts paying in dividends. She’s getting her fix like a little shooting gallery whore.”
“Good. That will keep Havens focused on the job. Push Havens to ensure he is not just putting some creative thoughts down, but also putting some courses of actions together that are actionable sooner than later. I’m getting a little more pressure here for some heads to be delivered and they really don’t understand the intricacy to these things. Havens will get jacked up about a moved timeline, but he can make it happen even if it isn’t perfect. We have enough top cover to make any slight imperfections go away. Plus, with a seat open on the committee, we need to shake some things up to get some defense spending back in the budgets. That may well take precedent over other projects if it comes from the top or if the opportunity presents itself. I am working that end too with one of the targets. Havens did some work a year or so ago that never saw the light of day, but I can use that and attribute it to him. Best of all, if someone at the federal level does some real hard sniffing, this stuff was loaded on JWICS and points to his direct access and another one of his team guys who isn’t living anymore.”
“Don’t suppose you are going to tell me who ‘they’ are yet. Who is running this whole show?”
“In time. Need you to get the field work all in order. And frankly, you would hate the desk jockey politics stuff anyway, so why would you care? Shit, I’d rather be doing what you are doing. I miss the dirty work. Soldier on Harrison, no need to know what’s really going on at this stage of your career. Just be a SEAL and kill something.”
“Roger that. But this hinky shit always makes me squirmy. Especially ones like this where full operational shut down can happen with shifts in the administration. Shit. Lower Wacker Drive is closed again. Hang on. Let me make this…”
Harrison’s mobile phone dropped as he moved it from hand to shoulder while making a quick lane change and simultaneous blind spot check. The phone hit the plastic wood grain trim with a loud crack in Draeger’s ear. Harrison scrambled to grab the phone before missing an exit.
“Sorry about that. Draeger? Draeger, you copy? Shit. Call you back in a couple.”
Chapter 41
The sound of the phone cracking against the car interior reverberated on the other end, transporting Draeger without warning back to Operation Cherokee Spark in Mogadishu. Draeger could smell the stench of the late afternoon heat mixing a fishy smell with burning garbage and some unknown combination of filth that permeated the air. He heard the cracks of the various rounds outside of his door. The unique sounds of CAR-15s and AKs competed with each other. M-60’s were chiming in to the chorus. An explosion resonated in the background. And another.
U.S. soldiers from the base by the airport were on the ground now in the city. Black Hawks and MH-60s were overhead flying around the city. He could hear the mini-guns sounding off. Fuck! They are not supposed to be here today. Fucking Rangers. With his hand tightly gripping his government issue ceramic coffee mug, Prescott Draeger was back in Somalia. The sounds, the smells, the sights.
Draeger gripped a small Gerber flick-blade in his oversized pocket as the rounds sounded off closer and closer. There was pounding on the doors. Don’t come knocking here. Nobody’s home. And I’m not finished. An RPG exploded meters from his door. What the fuck is going on out there? He resisted the urge to look out the front door and decided to climb the stairs and get a better view from the balcony. First, though, he needed to check the device he was calibrating to the new specifications. It would sit behind the false wall plate without even a hum for another month until he, or someone else from the team, would come back for another calibration and check-up. The rent would be paid and a local tenant would be back in to keep up appearances of normalcy. Another dull day in Mogadishu.
As Draeger reached the upper balcony door he could hear another Black Hawk roar by overhead. The bedlam outside continued. Draeger cracked the door only to see a Somali youth also on the rooftops hurling objects and taking shots at what Draeger assumed to be American soldiers running through the streets below. He heard the noise of a small Humvee convoy racing down the road. Plumes of black smoke lifted from the streets.
Shit. Need to ride this one out. Should I make a call? Probably not. Wouldn’t matter anyway.
Draeger saw more youths jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Some entered unlocked doors to gain a better vantage point.
Shit. This is not good.
Draeger heard glass shattering back downstairs as rounds riveted the walls from shooters taking blind shots behind cover.
What to do with the box…If this blows over we are all good. If shit goes to hell, the box needs to be taken care of. Fuck it! NSA, Agency, whoever’s toy this is can buy a new one. I’m not taking chances.
Draeger retrieved a small tool kit and proceeded to open the false plate and remove any core parts or telltale technologies from the device. Downstairs the front door crashed open. Draeger stopped unscrewing and froze. He heard American voices below.
“Thompson, you go check the rooms. I’m staying with Reed and will try to stabilize him. We can hook back up with the rest of the chalk later or he isn’t going to make it!”
“Roger that Top!”
As the soldier mounted the stairs, Draeger called out, “American serviceman here!”
Thompson demanded that Draeger come out slowly and identify himself. Draeger approached the staircase with his hands raised.
“What the fuck is going on out there?” Draeger inquired to the soldiers below.
“Well, we had a surprise op that didn’t end up so surprising. Go figure. I mean, it’s the middle of the fuckin’ day, right? Can’t possibly see us coming.”
<
br /> “Thompson!”
“Sorry, Top. Just sayin’ the town loves Aidid and that kinda tilted the scales in their advantage. Govie up here. State Department.”
“Thompson, go back out and get a look at where we stand right now. See if we have any vehicles coming our way. You! State Department guy. Come here and give me a hand. Who the fuck are you anyway? You sure as fuck can’t be on vacation and you sure as fuck ain’t one of us.”
“Top, one is coming our way!”
“Flag ‘em down, but mind your cover LT!” Sergeant Major, let it trail off, “…fuckin’ wet nose green leaf.”
Among the sporadic snaps and echoes of fire, a particular rapport seemed to sing above the rest in that moment. The supersonic lead met with Thompson’s flesh and bone and hurdled his body back through the entryway. Thompson’s eyes were wide but saw nothing in his death throws.
Draeger got up to move from what he saw as imminent death for the soldier now collapsed next the blown out door frame. He wanted to finish decommissioning the device and find a way out quickly. It was critical to his National Security initiative. He needed to move northwest of the city where he had another potential safe house on the outskirts. It would buy him time to establish communications and figure out his next move.
