Saber Down

by Harrison Kone

  “Okay,” she replied warmly. Denise and Caroline watched the two men descend the porch and head toward the designated skeet field of which Weber was immensely proud.

  “So, how did it go?” Denise asked, wearing a confident and self-satisfied smile. Caroline smiled, donned her sunglasses, and scooped back up her book. However, over the top of the pages, she kept her eyes fixed on the only man who had stolen her heart.

  29

  Dubai, UAE

  Affré paced back and forth as he contemplated his next move. His and Mather-Pike’s conversations over the past two months had done nothing to ease the dreadful feelings about proceeding. Mather-Pike was more than ready to take the plunge, and, if Affré was honest with himself, he didn’t know why he wasn’t. Was it because he considered Silva a friend? Or was it simply the act of betrayal that sat sour on his tongue?

  The former Legionnaire rapped his cellphone against his open palm and conversed to himself in Moroccan Arabic. The language comforted him and reminded him of his mother who had passed away when he was a boy. He imagined her voice saying the words, guiding him to the right path forward.

  It was late, nearly three in morning, but it was the only time Affré could truly be alone with his thoughts. Mather-Pike was asleep and so was Silva, and Affré enjoyed the warm breeze while on the suite’s narrow balcony. He hadn’t spoken with her in a long time. How would she react to his call? Was her help worth digging through the garbage it would bring? He forced himself to stop worrying and dialed the number. He hoped she hadn’t changed it. It rang several times, and he contemplated hanging up with each ring.

  “Oui?” came a woman’s tired voice.

  “Bonjour, Gisèle,” Affré greeted. The line immediately ended, and Affré simply stared at the phone. He likely deserved that. He redialed the number. It connected almost immediately.

  “What do you want?” she asked harshly.

  “It’s good to hear your voice,” Affré said. He meant it.

  “Who do you think you are that you can call me at such an hour?” Gisèle snapped.

  “I need your help.” His tone caught Gisèle off guard. She had only heard him speak that way once before.

  “What is it?” she asked. Affré smiled at the concern in her voice. Faithful Gisèle LaRue.

  “Can you help me or not?” Affré asked. Gisèle LaRue, Affré’s old partner at the DGSE, France’s CIA equivalent, bit her bottom lip as she contemplated Affré’s request. He sounded on edge, unsure. What had happened? She sighed.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Can you set up a shell nonprofit centered on wildlife conservation named the Wild Planet Foundation?” he asked.

  “What? Why?”

  “I’ll make it worth your while, I promise. I just need this done,” he said.

  “Alright, I’ll do it, but you can never ask anything of me again. Do you understand?’ Affré smirked, and she heard the associated exhale through the speaker. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked. Affré took comfort in her concern. “I’ve got a place where you can lay low if you need.”

  “You are too good to me, Gisèle.”

  Affré was amazed at how willing she was to help him despite the way he had ended things with her. He was sure the paperwork she had to fill out and the hearings she had to attend in response to his unsanctioned departure from the agency nearly drove her insane, but he regretted breaking her heart even more. Thinking on the events, he would do it again if it meant saving her life. He always knew he would have regrets in life, and he felt confident that he had chosen the path that resulted in the least amount of pain for those he loved and for himself. He longed to explain everything to her, but it was impossible. He turned his mind back to his immediate needs.

  “Thank you, Gisèle. Adieu, mon amour.” The finality of his farewell shocked and surprised her, but he terminated the call before she could respond.

  • • •

  “Pull!” Weber shouted. Shaw pressed the button to activate the clay launcher, and Weber’s shotgun snapped upward and thundered. The shot disintegrated the bright orange disc, and Shaw, on cue, triggered the second launcher. The following clay disc flew from a different direction, but Weber placed his shot well. The fine orange dust gently floated toward the ground. Weber wore a satisfied smile as he broke open the over-under shotgun, ejected the two spent casings, and turned to face Shaw.

  “You were a bit quick on that second clay,” he critiqued.

  “Didn’t seem to faze you, sir,” Shaw replied. Weber smirked and looked back over the field.

  “No, it didn’t.” He turned back to face Shaw. “I heard about your hearing in Quantico. That was quite a mess.”

  “Yeah, it was,” Shaw replied.

  “I love you like a son, but you give me the biggest headaches sometimes.” Weber laughed as he finished his sentence. “Do you realize the amount of paperwork you and Major King landed on my desk?”

  “I can imagine.” Weber chuckled again at how nonchalant Shaw’s words sounded.

  “But that intelligence cache was something else,” he added. He glanced down at his open shotgun, grasped two new shells from his vest pocket, and loaded them into the gun. He opened his mouth to speak as he snapped the breechloader closed, “Possibly the biggest find since the bin Laden raid. It’ll have us busy for the next ten years.” Shaw’s expression saddened. Weber took note and placed a hand on Shaw’s shoulder. “I didn’t mean to … ”

  “I know,” Shaw said quickly, “but I didn’t come to talk about the hearing.” Weber furrowed his brow and lifted his chin as he awaited Shaw’s next words.

  “Caroline then?” Shaw chuckled and shook his head.

  “I need a team,” he said.

  “A what?” Shaw remained silent and let his words sink in. “What for?” Weber probed.

  “I’m going after the man responsible for killing my men,” Shaw answered.

  “You’re what?” Weber’s voice dripped with disapproval. “I think you need to let this go, David. We’re all mourning, but you’re taking this thing too far.”

  “I can’t,” Shaw stated firmly. Weber sighed and shook his head.

  “Who are you talking about anyway?”

  “Francisco Silva, the arms dealer who provided the Stingers and intelligence about the operation to Al Amiri,” Shaw answered.

  “I was not aware that we had unearthed that information. Who are you working with?”

  “The lead CIA operations officer from Yemen, Natalie Hale,” Shaw answered. Weber bobbed his head in contemplation.

  “And the CIA doesn’t have a team to tackle this?”

  “I requested to be involved, and I figured we would want a shot at this guy,” Shaw said. It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t entirely a lie either. He figured Weber would do the same if their positions were switched.

  “You’re not wrong. Where is he located?”

  “Suez.”

  “That complicates things,” Weber remarked. Hope welled up within Shaw as Weber considered his request. “Your unorthodoxy kills me. I guess that’s why you fit so well in MARSOC. Hell, you helped set the culture back in Det One.” Weber sighed, obviously torn. “Are they going after him anyway?” Shaw nodded.

  “I am too, but I’d like to have Raiders beside me. You can understand that, sir.”

  “I do,” Weber replied. A long silence followed as Weber chewed on the inside of his cheek. He gazed into Shaw’s hard eyes and nodded repeatedly as he made up his mind. “Alright, but I want all operational details run by me. No more going behind my back, got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Shaw replied, beaming with satisfaction. Weber clasped him on the shoulder again before handing him the shotgun and taking the launcher controls.

  “Alright, enough of this. Let’s see what you got.” Shaw grinned and stepped up to the firing position.

  “Pull!”

  • • •

  “You’re sure you won’t stay the night?” Denise asked. Shaw
smiled but shook his head.

  “There are some urgent matters that require David’s attention,” Weber said. Denise did little to hide her disappointment and shifted her gaze toward her daughter.

  “I’ll walk you out,” Caroline said, to her mother’s approval. Shaw turned, embraced Weber and Denise, and followed Caroline from the porch and into the house. She led him through the front door and down to the rented Ford Explorer. Shaw pulled the keys from his pocket, and the vehicle’s lights flashed as he pressed the unlock button.

  “David,” she started. He sensed the longing in her tone, and it stirred old emotions within him. He turned to face her, and she closed the gap swiftly and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “It was really good to see you,” she said as she sank down from her toes.

  “Yeah, you too,” he replied. She smiled sweetly and touched the edge of the car door as he opened it. She guided it closed, and Shaw rolled down the window. She rested her arms in the opening and gazed at him.

  “Come back when you get out. Maybe we can pick things up where we left off,” she offered. Shaw forced a convincing smile and nodded his head, unsure how to respond. She had hurt him far worse than she knew.

  Caroline patted the SUV and backed away. She folded her arms low across her torso and watched him throw the vehicle in gear. She waved, shyly, feeling a bit foolish over her words, but Shaw smiled and returned her wave before taking off down the driveway.

  As the gate to the estate closed behind him, Shaw scooped up his cell phone from the cup holder in the center console.

  “Yes?” Natalie answered. The hope and excitement in her tone drew a swift smile across his face.

  “You got your direct-action element,” Shaw congratulated.

  30

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “What is it?” Kathryn asked as Wyatt hung up the phone. She leaned on his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed. He turned his head to look at her.

  “Duty calls,” he replied solemnly. Kathryn straightened, and her face creased in confusion.

  “But you have another month of leave,” she protested.

  “Not anymore.” Although frustrated and upset, Kathryn secretly delighted in Wyatt’s sadness. She recognized that he didn’t want to leave, and she cherished that thought. As she looked at him, everything in her stirred, longing for him. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Although the emotion ran deep, a strong and willful dedication to Wyatt had emerged as the relationship’s cornerstone. From their conversations, she knew he felt the same way.

  “When do you leave?” she asked.

  “As soon as my ride gets here,” he answered. He stood and glanced around the small studio for his bag.

  “Your ride?”

  “Yeah, my flight leaves out of Dobbins Air Base.”

  “Dobbins?” Her mind whirled. To leave from Dobbins was quite unusual for a Marine halfway through mandatory leave. “Where are you going?” Wyatt raised his eyebrows as he contemplated how much he could or should tell her. He figured his first destination wasn’t off limits. Then again, she was a journalist. He gave in.

  “Andrews,” he replied.

  “In D.C.!” she exclaimed. Her excitement poured out more than her disappointment. Wyatt smirked. It wasn’t the location that excited her, but the haste of everything. She was certain the CIA was involved.

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “You have to spill to me,” she insisted. Wyatt shook his head.

  “You’re a journalist,” he simply replied. She grinned.

  “I guess that’s fair.” Kathryn wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him, and he hugged her tightly. “Do you know when you’ll be back?”

  “I can’t say,” he replied. She raised one eyebrow.

  “Won’t say or don’t know?” Wyatt laughed.

  “I don’t know, but I will come back,” he promised. Kathryn didn’t respond, but simply rested her head against his shoulder. He squeezed her tightly, and she returned the hug. Wyatt inhaled deeply, committing the sweet smell of her hair to memory.

  “I love you,” he said. Her heart leaped into her throat as it fled the tickling affection. She felt it and knew he felt it, but to vocalize it seemed so surreal.

  “I love you too,” she replied. It felt so easy to say, so effortless. She looked up at him and melted as she gazed into his eyes. Their lips met, and they fell into the bed.

  • • •

  Joint Base Andrews, Maryland

  Shaw stood on the tarmac at Joint Base Andrews as the cargo plane’s rear door groaned open. Wyatt stood dressed in jeans and a quarter-sleeve, baseball shirt with his duffle bag slung over one shoulder. The Raider grinned when he saw Shaw waiting for him. His skin prickled as the cold, Virginian wind raked across his exposed flesh. It was colder than Atlanta, and he wished he had packed a jacket.

  “I should have known you were behind this!” Wyatt exclaimed as he approached and embraced the man.

  “Sorry to have ripped you away from your leave,” Shaw said, wearing a wide grin.

  “Yeah, you don’t know the half of it,” Wyatt replied. Shaw clapped him on the shoulder and led him into the hanger behind him. “So, what are we doing here?”

  “I’ll let the boss fill you in,” Shaw stated. As they passed into the shade of the hanger, the Gulfstream private jet stole Wyatt’s attention.

  “You remember Natalie,” Shaw said as the two approached her.

  “It’s good to see you again, Wyatt,” Natalie said.

  “Hello, ma’am,” Wyatt greeted as he grasped her outstretched hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are we doing here?”

  “We’re going after Silva,” Natalie replied. At the mention of his name, fire erupted behind his eyes. “That’s what I like to see,” Natalie remarked after witnessing his resolve. “Get acquainted with your gear. David put together a case for you. Briefing is at fifteen-hundred hours, and we’re wheels up at sixteen-hundred.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt replied. Wyatt waited until she walked away before turning to Shaw.

  “So, you two on a first name basis now?” he teased.

  “Go check your gear,” Shaw responded in like manner. He followed Wyatt to his kit and briefly turned his gaze back toward Natalie. She stood next to a large white board with posted portraits and satellite images. Despite the challenge arrayed against them, he cracked a smile.

  Finally, everything was in place. The terrorist was dead, the arms dealer was not far behind, and his body truly felt up for the challenge. For the first time in months, Shaw found himself content in his direction.

  • • •

  Over the Atlantic Ocean

  The Gulfstream jet’s exterior lights blinked in stark contrast to the dark night. Shaw watched their rhythmic pulsing through the window to his left. He faced the rear of the aircraft, and he relished the comfort of his seat. With its clean lines and leather chairs, Shaw couldn’t deny that traveling on the CIA’s dime had its benefits.

  Wyatt slept, but Shaw’s mind kept him awake. The opportunity to discover who leaked the Marine flight plans to Silva proved too stimulating.

  “May I join you?” came the soft voice to his right. He glanced up at Natalie’s smiling face.

  “Of course,” he replied. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “No, I can’t sleep.” She brought her braided hair over one shoulder as she sank into the seat.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “I guess I’m doing okay,” she replied. “I just keep going over the plan.” Shaw chuckled.

  “I get that.” A moment of silence passed between them.

  “Have you been to Africa before?” she asked him.

  “Yeah, a few times, but on military transport. I know you must do this type of thing all the time, but I could really get used to this.”

  “It beats the cargo planes I used to fly on while in the Navy,” she said. Shaw’s eyebrows perked up.

  “You were in the Na
vy?”

  “Yeah, in intelligence,” she replied.

  “Fitting,” he said, wearing a grin. Natalie returned his smile, and she drifted her gaze out the window as silence grew between them.

  “Silva,” Shaw finally said, “what’s he like?” Natalie sighed.

  “Probably not like you imagine. I can’t seem to shake that hungry look behind his eyes,” she answered. Natalie looked down and traced her eyebrow with her fingers. Her scar reminding her of the events in Yemen and the actions of the man seated before her.

  “Is he a fighter?”

  “Yes,” Natalie answered boldly, of that she held no doubt. She looked up at him, and his stern gaze caught her off guard. He was preparing, she realized. “I need him alive,” she quickly said.

  “I know,” he replied. His countenance didn’t change.

  “I will get him alive,” she added.

  “I know,” he said again. However, he didn’t know how he would react until he laid eyes on the man. Would he immediately place three rounds in Silva’s chest? He liked to think he was more professional than that, but some things ran deeper than professionalism.

  • • •

  Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti

  “Welcome to Camp Lemonnier,” Natalie stated as the aircraft touched down.

  “Déjà vu,” Wyatt muttered as the plane rolled to a stop. Shaw maintained a grim expression. The last team of Marines that deployed out of this base all died in Yemen, save for Wyatt. It was a stark reminder of the dangers of their profession and the unbearable loss they had endured.

  As the two Marines stepped onto the tarmac alongside Natalie, a SUV rolled to a stop in front of them. The driver’s door opened immediately, and a man dressed in a United States Navy uniform quickly strode towards the three newcomers with a hand outstretched.

  “Officer Hale, welcome on behalf of Captain Evan Pierce, Base Commander,” the lead sailor greeted. She took his hand and glanced at his nameplate.

  “Thank you, Petty Officer Jones,” she replied. “My colleagues,” Natalie added, turning to regard Shaw and Wyatt. They each shook hands with the sailor and nodded cordially.