The Lion's Prey

by Camden Mays

  “Base, this is Wildcat One. Come in, base!” It was not lost on Cole that just a few years earlier, the UN compound had been attacked by Al Shabab. The US had finally agreed to open an embassy back in the capital of Somalia and construction was underway, but currently the delegation operated in Nairobi, Kenya. Another blast shook them. Cole again attempted contact.

  Finally, Wang’s transmission was received. “Wildcat One, this is base. The compound is under attack. Repeat—the compound is under attack!” The sound of automatic gunfire could be heard in the background.

  “We’re on our way.” The team leaped down the stairs and grabbed Ricky.

  “We’ve got to go. Get us back to the compound!”

  Ricky drove the car as fast as he could, dodging traffic and pedestrians. Cole checked the ammo in his magazine and reinserted it in the M4. He grabbed the handle above him to hold on as Ricky abruptly swerved to miss a boy running out in the narrow road.

  The minivan was stopped a couple of blocks away by government soldiers. The team continued on foot. The sound of gunfire had ceased. They were stopped again by soldiers, and after some negotiations, they were allowed to proceed. It had taken over half an hour for them to arrive, and as they came to the main gate of the compound, they saw where a car bomb had exploded, killing the guards and leveling the iron gate.

  It looked like the work of Al Shabab, the group that continued to plague the country with the unrelenting goal to remove the Western-backed central government. Responders were providing care to the injured, and at least a dozen bodies were lying dead from the gunfight. They saw their three colleagues outside of their building rendering assistance.

  “You all OK?” Cole yelled out as they approached.

  “We’re alright,” Wang responded, taping up a bandage for an injured man. Cole saw the soot on her face, and Sasha Liski’s forearm was bandaged.

  “Shit, I thought we were dead,” Sinha said.

  “What happened to the arm?” Cole asked Liski.

  “I was just heading into your building and saw the explosion. I ducked and took a hit of shrapnel.”

  “Sorry it took so long to get back here.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re OK. These people will have it covered now. We need to pack up. The shipment is getting moved,” Liski shared.

  “What?”

  “Yes, it’s getting loaded right now.” Liski reached for the door to their building and grimaced at the pain in her forearm. “Agh,” she said.

  “I’ve got it.” Cole opened the door and the team filed in.

  “Let’s start packing up. We need to be ready to go,” Liski said.

  “Hold on,” Cole stopped everyone. “This is my operation, and we’re here for Jawahir. For all I know, he’s at that house back there. Wang, let’s get the den on the horn, see if we can’t get a fix on the ship’s destination. I need to get with McCune.”

  “Copy that,” Wang said as Liski made her own calls. Cole knew that the DO had more pull than McCune, and it was highly likely that his mission would get pushed back to assist with Liski’s agenda. He didn’t like it at all and was hoping for a miracle.

  The conversation with McCune went as expected. The team was ordered to stay with the shipment. Wang got Cole’s attention when Amy Wiggins came over the video feed.

  “Looks like the cargo ship is headed for the Port of Aden, and we have the tracking on the specific containers thanks to the tracking device you were able to attach.” Liski had placed small gadgets on the specific containers at their point of origin in St. Petersburg. “We’ll be keeping an eye on their movement and use the satellite to monitor the ship’s voyage as well.”

  “Any idea when it is set to arrive at the port?” Cole asked.

  “You might have a couple of days. The last communication intercepted indicated they would have to anchor outside and wait their turn for a spot at the container terminal,” Amy shared.

  “Great. Thanks, Amy.” They signed off. Cole turned to the group. “So I know we’ll need to get set up at the port, but let’s keep eyes out at the house for Jawahir tonight and see if we get lucky.”

  “You may not have to wait until tonight,” Wang said, pointing to her screens. “You guys left the camera at the rooftop. I sent Ricky to go pick it up for us. He should be there any minute.”

  The screen revealed two men emerging from the house and embracing. Wang zoomed the lens in and refocused it.

  “Guys! It’s him!” Robinson said as a small car came into view, pulling in front of the house.

  “Steve, throw the bird up in the air, quick,” Cole ordered, not taking his eyes off of the screen. “Sara, call Ricky to have him follow the car and keep his line open. Darryl, Bridgette, let’s run over to the airport and be ready. He’s either heading there or getting on the ship.”

  ✽✽✽

  Fairfax, Virginia

  Sweat dripped off Jessica Cameron’s blonde hair and down her temple as she spun and swung the training stick from one punching bag to the next, working through the set of three freestanding punishment absorbers in a thirty-minute drill. It was as intense of a workout as she had ever experienced. She loved that she got high-cardio exercise similar to swimming while at the same time building her self-defense skills.

  Her firearms trainer, Boggy, had recommended the self-defense training program run by some of his buddies who were former Special Forces combat veterans. He reminded Jess that she could not get a carry permit until she was twenty-one years old, and that even then, the likelihood of having an accessible gun in a real-life attack was slim. Her marksmanship was excellent, but she needed other skills for real-world dangers.

  The trainers at the program had taken her under their wings, knowing the ordeal she had experienced, and appreciated the warrior spirit she displayed. They gave her extra attention, each wanting to ensure that she would never have to face that horror again. Jess was all in, no more half-assing through life. Her course was charted, and she was committed to a path of self-mastery. The twenty-year-old coed had never felt so focused, so aware, so strong and fit. Her tall, athletic build coupled with the balance, dexterity, and strength she had developed was impressive to her trainers.

  She had just two more weeks to soak it all in before heading back to California. She had already learned to effectively disarm a frontal attack, spin and drop an attacker from behind, and take out three or more attackers with just a stick. While she had done self-defense training in Los Angeles, it was nothing like this. She had stepped up her game significantly, and God help any fool that tried to come at her again.

  “Nice work!” yelled her instructor as he slapped her palm in a high five. “Dang, girl, you trying to break my stick on those bags?”

  “I’m not gonna lie. I tend to picture a certain face when I’m smacking the bags,” Jess said, gasping for air.

  “I bet you do. Good. Keep up that intensity.”

  “I know I’m not scheduled again until Monday, but can I come in over the weekend too?” Jess asked, dabbing her head with a towel.

  “We’d love to take your money, but I think you need to take the weekend off, recover, and come back Monday. You’re way ahead of the curve, kiddo. Relax. Enjoy life. You’re young.” The instructor saw that her motivation was in overdrive.

  “OK, thanks. See you Monday.” She grabbed her bag in the corner of the room as the next trainee entered the bag area. Scrolling through her messages, she looked for anything from her dad but found nothing. She hoped he would make it back home before she left for California. There were a couple of text messages from Brittany, and then she saw it—a text from David Kincaid.

  Are you free Saturday night?

  She smiled and said, “You bet your ass I am!” but typed a subtler reply.

  Sure.

  ✽✽✽

  Washington, DC

  Finding a spot in the parking lot at the supermarket was difficult at this time of the evening, but Hannah spotted one at the end of the lane. Th
e fridge was empty, and she needed to stock up after being gone all week for refresher training at Quantico. She would have tomorrow off, then be back at the NCTC on Monday. She shopped and filled the cart with her favorite food and items to get through the week like she usually did, but things were different now.

  Hannah never used to mind being alone, but since she met Cole, her life felt empty when he was not around. It was especially hard not knowing where he was or when he would be home. The emotions she felt reminded her of why the odds were stacked against them having a successful relationship. They had gotten so close, but he was so far away. That thought caused her to make an impulse buy, adding two extra bottles of wine.

  It started to rain just as she pushed the cart down the lane toward her car. Steam rose from the asphalt as the July shower hit the hot pavement. Hannah rushed to load the bags in the trunk and, when opening the door to the car, noticed a large envelope getting soaked on her windshield. She grabbed it and jumped in the car, looking around to see if any other vehicles had anything on their windshields. She pulled strands of wet hair back out of her face and opened the envelope as her soaked head dripped water onto three large black-and-white photos.

  “What the f . . .”

  Chapter 11

  Mogadishu, Somalia

  “Wildcat One, this is base. The bird is in the air and should be over the target’s position in two.” Wang shuffled her black boots across the concrete floor as she paced back and forth, clad in her standard desert tiger-striped camo pants and a black T-shirt. The new CIA recruit carried herself like she always had in her twelve-year military career and directed Sinha as he controlled the joystick of their small drone.

  “Copy,” Cole said as he, Capps, and Robinson positioned themselves outside the airport. The place was still in high alert after the bombing at the nearby compound, but flights had resumed.

  “Dammit, he’s getting too close,” Wang said to Sinha as they watched Ricky follow Jawahir’s car.

  “Yeah, he’s right on their ass,” Sinha agreed.

  Wang dialed Ricky’s cell.

  “Hello,” the chipper Ricky said with his African accent.

  “Ricky, you’re following too close. They’re going to notice you. Make a right turn at the next street,” Wang instructed.

  “No, no,” the cheerful Somalian said, “I will lose him. I need to stay with him.”

  Wang was getting frustrated. “Ricky, we have a drone watching. We’re good now. We’ve got this.”

  “But I want to see what happens,” Ricky said.

  Wang looked at Sinha and covered the phone. “Who is this guy?”

  Sinha just shrugged.

  “Ricky, it’s too dangerous.”

  Before Ricky could respond, Wang and Sinha saw Jawahir’s car skid to a stop on the dusty road. Ricky nearly rear-ended the vehicle. A passenger jumped out with an AK-47 and unloaded nearly twenty rounds into Ricky’s car. The windshield shattered and bullets ripped holes all over the car.

  “Ricky!” Wang yelled over the phone.

  “Oh my God,” Sinha said, seeing it unfold on his screen from the drone’s vantage point.

  The shooter jumped back in the car, and it sped off. The drone hovered over Ricky’s car, which was ripped and spewing steam from the radiator.

  “Steve, follow Jawahir!” Wang ordered. Her military experienced had taught her to handle these situations, think fast, and stick to the mission’s objective.

  “Ricky, are you there?”

  “The poor guy is dead,” Liski said, watching it all unfold behind them. Wang shot her a dirty look.

  “I think I will stop following him now. My car will not start.” Ricky’s shaky voice came over the phone’s speaker. They all erupted in laughter as the tension released, and Wang pumped her fist in the air.

  “Yes!” she shouted and then turned to confront Liski. “We’re not losing anyone on my first mission.”

  “Wildcat One, this is base. You have the target inbound two klicks out. Be advised they’re coming in hot and heavy. They took out the asset’s car. The asset is OK.”

  “Copy. Two and Three, be ready. They may be trigger-happy. We have a lot of bystanders here. When they get out of the car, you guys see if you can create a diversion from your end and I’ll have him from this end.” Cole wanted to minimize the risk but was not going to let Jawahir get on that plane.

  “I didn’t take no damn acting class. What kind of diversion?” Capps protested.

  “This is base. You better figure it out. It’s the blue car pulling up,” Wang informed them, watching it on the screen. Capps and Robinson were at the front end of the car’s position about thirty yards away, and Cole was to the rear of the car. The passenger with Jawahir got out of the car first with his rifle concealed under his outer wrap. The driver remained behind the wheel as Jawahir emerged.

  “Come on guys, do something!” Cole yelled over the comm. Robinson responded by screaming at Capps and making a scene like a woman gone mad, ripping her scarf and head covering off, stomping around, and yelling unintelligible sounds. It was quite a performance.

  “What’s she doing?” Sinha asked, seeing the video feed from multiple angles with the drone and body cams.

  “She’s . . .”—Wang hesitated, squinting at the screen, trying to interpret Robinson’s actions—“She’s creating a diversion.”

  It worked. The passenger took a few steps that way, creating a clear line of sight while Cole ran up behind Jawahir with his Glock drawn. The driver saw Cole approaching from the rear and honked his horn and threw the car in reverse. The passenger turned toward the car and raised his rifle. Capps put him down with two shots. The driver tried to run over Cole, but a bullet from Cole’s gun went through the back window into the driver’s head. The car rolled to a stop between Cole and Jawahir. The place was in a panic as people screamed and ran for cover, getting into Capps’s line of sight.

  “I don’t have a shot,” Capps yelled over the comm.

  “I’ve got him,” Cole responded as guards were rushing to the scene.

  Jawahir finally recognized Cole. “You!” he said with disgust and reached into the driver’s lap to grab his gun. Cole Cameron didn’t hesitate and shot him in the head.

  ✽✽✽

  Washington, DC – Wharf District

  Hannah sat on her couch in her comfy shorts and T-shirt with the air conditioning working hard to cool the condo that had been unoccupied for a week. She was working on her third glass of white wine and didn’t have plans to stop anytime soon. Bewildered and stunned, she shuffled the three photos that had been left on her car. The first showed Cole with a blonde woman at a small table with her hand on his, the second revealed the blonde woman kissing his cheek, and the third image was of her touching his face. She studied the pictures carefully.

  She had so many questions. Who had left the photos for her and why had they left them? Who was this woman in the picture? Something about the woman seemed vaguely familiar. All of this was happening while Cole was away, and an old interest had resurfaced. Was the universe trying to tell her something? Hannah had been hurt in the past, but those injuries were avoidable. Her instincts had given her the warnings, she just refused to heed the call. Had her instincts been off with Cole? Everything within her told her that while their relationship would be challenged on many levels, she could always trust him.

  Hannah sighed deeply and flopped back in her seat. The cell phone vibrated on the coffee table, and she looked at the caller ID. It was Jess.

  Dang it. I’m really not up for this, she thought, looking at the photos. But she had promised she would be there for her.

  “Hey, Jess,” she forced out.

  “Hannah, sorry to bother you, but have you heard from Dad?” Jess asked.

  “No, I haven’t. I just got back home from my week of training, but I don’t think he’s tried to call. Is everything OK?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, but I was talking to David, and he said something ab
out an incident in Somalia that’s on the news. Like a bombing and some shoot-out. He’s not there, is he?”

  “Jess, I don’t know where he is. I mean, he can’t tell us, you know, so I’m sure he’s OK. Amy or someone would let us know if there was a problem.”

  “OK. I just was looking it up online because it’s not getting much coverage here, but from what I can see, an AIJB leader was killed, and there was also an American killed at some kind of compound.” Jess was worried, and Hannah could hear it in her voice.

  “Jess, listen to me. Your father is OK. I just know it. He’ll be alright. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

  “Thanks, Hannah. I appreciate it.”

  “So, you and David, huh?” Hannah hoped she could get Jess’s mind on something else.

  “Yeah. He asked me out tonight. He’s picking me up in a few minutes,” Jess said in a more cheerful voice.

  “Good. Go out and have some fun tonight, but be careful, and let me know if you need anything.”

  “OK. Thanks, Hannah. Bye.”

  “Bye, Jess.” Hannah blew her cheeks out looked at the clock. It was probably four in the morning wherever Cole was. She got her laptop and did an internet search of the incident Jess had told her about. She saw the name Jawahir and knew Cole and his team had been there. The phone buzzed again, but Hannah didn’t recognize the number, so she declined the call. A minute later, another buzz let her know she had a voice-mail message. It was from Tom Anderson. Hannah touched the necklace Cole had given her.

  ✽✽✽

  Port of Aden, Yemen

  The team set up their operation near the Port of Aden to track the cargo coming from Mogadishu. After the incident at the airport, they were delayed and nearly missed their window, making their guest Sasha Liski very unhappy. It was dark near the harbor, and they set up their cots in a one-room warehouse. It was not ideal, but they were on a tight timetable with the ship scheduled to pull into the container terminal at 0400.