by AD Starrling
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Also by A D Starrling
Hunted (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book One
'My name is Lucas Soul. Today, I died again. This is my fifteenth death in the last four hundred and fifty years. And I'm determined that it will be the last.’
National Indie Excellence Awards Winner Fantasy 2013
National Indie Excellence Awards Finalist Adventure 2013
Next Generation Indie Book Awards Finalist Action-Adventure 2013
Hollywood Book Festival 2013 Honorable Mention General Fiction
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Warrior (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book Two
The perfect Immortal warrior. A set of stolen, priceless artifacts. An ancient sect determined to bring about the downfall of human civilization.
Next Generation Indie Book Awards Winner Action-Adventure 2014
Shelf Unbound Competition for Best Independently Published Book Finalist 2014
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Empire (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book Three
An immortal healer. An ancient empire reborn. A chain of cataclysmic events that threatens to change the fate of the world.
Next Generation Indie Book Awards Finalist General Fiction 2015
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Legacy (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book Four
The Hunter who should have been king. The Elemental who fears love. The Seer who is yet to embrace her powers.
Three immortals whose fates are entwined with that of the oldest and most formidable enemy the world has ever faced.
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The Seventeen Collection: Books 1-3
Boxset featuring Hunted, Warrior, and Empire.
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First Death (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #1
Discover where it all started…
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Dancing Blades (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #2
Join Lucas Soul on his quest to become a warrior.
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The Meeting (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #3
Discover the origins of the incredible friendship between the protagonists of Hunted.
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The Warrior Monk (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #4
Experience Warrior from the eyes of one of the most beloved characters in Seventeen.
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The Hunger (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #5
Discover the origin of the love story behind Empire.
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The Bank Job (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #6
Join two of the protagonists from Legacy on their very first adventure.
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Void (A Sci-fi Horror Short Story)
2065. Humans start terraforming Mars.
2070. The Mars Baker2 outpost is established on the Acidalia Planitia.
2084. The first colonist goes missing.
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AUDIOBOOKS
Hunted (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book One
Warrior (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book Two
First Death (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #1
Dancing Blades (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #2
The Meeting (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #3
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BOOKTRACKS
Hunted (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book One
Warrior (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book Two
First Death (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #1
Dancing Blades (A Seventeen Series Short Story) #2
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COMING SOON…
Mission:Black (A Division Eight Thriller)
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The Seventeen Series Short Story Collection (#4-6)
Boxset featuring The Warrior Monk, The Hunger, and The Bank Job.
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The Seventeen Series Ultimate Short Story Collection
Boxset featuring First Death, Dancing Blades, The Meeting, The Warrior Monk, The Hunger, and The Bank Job.
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Origins (A Seventeen Series Thriller) Book Five
Mission:Black Extract
Chapter One
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June 2014. Gulf of Aden, Arabian Sea.
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The man standing outside the communications room of the cargo ship yawned and stretched out the kinks in his neck. He adjusted the sling of his AK-47 rifle before leaning against the steel compartment door behind him. It wasn't long before his chin started to droop and his breathing grew slow and deep.
Twelve feet away, in an adjacent passageway, Rachel Carter crouched against a bulkhead. She ignored the cold metal at her back and the vibrations traveling through her boots from the engine room several decks below, her gaze focused on the miniature mirror on a stick she held in her left hand. Through it, she could see the snoozing guard outside the communications room.
She stole a glance at her watch before slipping the mirror inside her tactical gear. Adrenaline surged through her veins. She gripped her Sig Pro tightly in both hands, her muscles tensing in anticipation of the upcoming battle. Right on cue, a male voice started a countdown in the wireless receiver in her ear.
'All stations, this is Alpha One. On my mark in three, two, one!'
Rachel twisted, dropped to one knee, and squeezed the trigger twice. A distant explosion shook the bowels of the ship at the same time the bullets left the suppressor at the end of her gun and slammed into the guard's chest and head. He jerked and slid down the door, his grip relaxing on his weapon.
Rachel was up and running before the dead man hit the deck. She grabbed the AK-47, slung it around her neck, and dragged the guard’s body down the passage. She was back at the communications room in seconds. She rapped the door twice with her knuckles and stood to the side of the doorjamb.
The sound of gunfire rose from the direction of the galley and the main deck. Alarmed shouts followed in the distance.
Rachel rose on the balls of her feet. By now, the men inside the communications room would know the ship was under attack.
The door opened without warning. An automatic rifle burst into life and a spray of bullets ripped through the doorway. The shots slammed harmlessly into the opposite bulkhead.
Rachel yanked the pull ring on a stun grenade and lobbed it through the opening. She turned, dropped on her heels, pressed her hands over her ears, and closed her eyes tightly. The flash from the subsonic deflagration registered as a bright light through her eyelids, the accompanying bang of the grenade throbbing through her bones.
Footsteps sounded on her left just as she rose to her feet. Two men turned the corner of the passage. They stopped, shock registering on their faces at the sight of a tall, blonde woman in the midst of the battlefield. That brief hesitation cost them their lives.
By the time they started to raise their assault rifles, Rachel had cut them down with the AK-47. She strode inside the communications room and stopped a few steps past the doorway.
The chamber was fifteen by twelve feet. A bank of tables crowded the bulkhead to the left. Sitting atop them were the merchant ship's radio and satellite communication hardware, its lifeline to the outside world. Two men lay groaning on the floor ahead of her.
The hairs rose on the back of Rachel's neck.
Satellite infra-red images over the last twenty-four hours had shown three guards permanently stationed inside the ship's communications room and a fourth posted outside.
Instinct had her dropping to the ground. There was movement out of the corner of her eye. The AK-47 slipped from around her neck and clattered across the floor as she hit the deck. She rolled onto her back and saw a blade swoop across the space where she had been a second ago. She narrowed her eyes
.
One thing satellite images didn't tell you was the size of your opponents.
At six foot three and over two hundred and fifty pounds, the third guard was a virtual colossus. Though the flash grenade had incapacitated his companions, it seemed to have had little effect on him.
He charged toward her.
Shit, too close!
Rachel flipped onto her feet, swooped at the waist, and brought her right leg up in a roundhouse kick. Her boot made contact with the man's left ribcage. An 'Oof!' left his lips. He slowed a fraction.
She whipped her Kbar knife out in time to block his blade. Her earpiece buzzed to life.
'Alpha Two, this is Alpha One. What’s your status, over?'
Busy trying not to get myself killed!
Rachel jumped back to avoid the knife heading toward her heart. Rage darkened her opponent's face as she continued to evade him, her movements nimble in their deadly dance. He roared and attacked with savage, wild swings of his blade.
She smiled. That's right, big guy, get angry all you want.
'Alpha Two, this is Alpha One. I repeat, what's your status?'
Had she not been trying to dodge her opponent's attempt to disembowel her, Rachel would have sighed at the undercurrent of tension in her team leader's voice. She glanced to the right. The fight had brought her next to the communications equipment.
Time to finish this.
She stepped up against the closest table just as the large man barreled toward her, jumped in the air, and drove her left knee into his chest. He grunted and toppled backward. She went down with him, her thighs straddling his upper body. They landed hard on the deck.
He brought his arms up, his knife arcing toward her face while his other hand reached for her throat. She blocked his blade and gritted her teeth as his fingers closed around her windpipe. Instinct would have had her trying to free herself from his grip. She ignored it, switched her Kbar to her free hand, leaned into his hold, and slashed her knife across his neck in a clean movement.
The man's eyes widened as arterial blood started pouring from the gash in his flesh. He dropped his blade and clutched helplessly at the scarlet flow with both hands, a gurgle escaping his lips.
He would be dead in minutes.
Rachel heard movement behind her. The two stunned men on the floor were crawling to their feet. They blinked and shook their heads dazedly, assault rifles swinging wildly in their grips. Rachel rolled off the dying man, dropped on her back, and brought her Sig around and up a second before they depressed their triggers. By the time their bullets peppered the air several feet above her head, her shots had found their flesh with deadly accuracy. They went down hard.
Her earpiece buzzed again. 'Alpha Four, this is Alpha One. Move to Alpha Two's last known location and prepare to—'
'Alpha One, this is Alpha Two. Comms room secured, over,' Rachel snapped into the wireless transmitter pinned to her tactical gear.
There was a brief silence.
'Roger that, Alpha Two. Stand by for further instructions, out.'
The voice was brisk. Rachel suspected she was the only one who heard the trace of relief modulating Alpha One's tone.
Definitely going to have to have words with him.
Chapter Two
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Rachel gathered the dead men's weapons and kept them close at hand while she flicked switches and entered commands into the communications systems, re-establishing vital network connections that had been deactivated by the guards. Screens lit up across the board, indicating the vessel was back online.
Thirty-eight hours had passed since the US merchant marine cargo ship Nostradamus was intercepted by pirates two hundred nautical miles from the Horn of Africa, in the Gulf of Aden. With over $50 million worth of prime, heavy, electrical machinery bound for the Philippines and twenty-five crew members on board, the vessel was attacked mere hours after it entered the Arabian Sea.
The ransom demand came just as Rachel's team completed a covert mission in Yemen, where they had captured the leader of a terrorist cell with affiliations to the Taliban.
Formed as part of the U.S. Department of Justice's goal to combat international drug trafficking, the Foreign-deployed Advisory and Support Teams, or FAST, were the DEA's answer to the military's special ops forces. Officially, FAST teams were tasked with training foreign narcotic law enforcement units, carrying out counter-narcotics missions, and gathering evidence and intelligence to support U.S. and allied drug investigations. Unofficially, FAST were elite tactical units capable of counterterrorism and direct-action missions on foreign soil, similar to their military counterparts.
Two months shy of her thirty-first birthday, Rachel became one of only a handful of female DEA agents to have successfully completed the arduous selection and training program devised by U.S. Special Operations Command for FAST recruits. The operation in Yemen was her twelfth covert assignment since she joined the team in Afghanistan eight months ago.
Although the mission to rescue the hostages aboard the Nostradamus normally fell under the remit of Navy SEALs and Marine Special Ops, Rachel's team was called in on the action as the geographically closest tactical unit to the Gulf of Aden. Everyone knew siege situations were at their most critical twenty-four to forty-eight hours following first contact. Beyond that, hostage takers got twitchy and hostages got desperate, leading to a perfect storm that often ended in tragedy. When the DEA got wind that there were possible links between the pirates holding the Nostradamus hostage and a powerful and ultra-secretive drug cartel in East Africa that had so far eluded the U.S. and its allies' efforts at infiltration and intelligence gathering, it gave the FAST team an even stronger justification to be the unit to attempt the rescue.
Rachel suppressed a grimace. Would have been nice if it wasn't mission number thirteen though.
Although she tried hard not to fall prey to baseless superstitions, an Irish upbringing and a grandmother who was more catholic than the Pope made this a tricky goal to achieve. Still, the number thirteen was unpopular even with members of the military special ops forces.
The staccato of gunfire started to die down in the distance. Moments later, the words she had been waiting to hear came over the channel.
'Alpha Team, this is Alpha One. We have control of the ship. Helos are on the way. Stand by for further instructions, over.'
'Alpha One, this is Alpha Two. Standing by, out,' said Rachel.
A sigh escaped her lips. She allowed herself to relax slightly, the guns still close at hand.
Though they had been weary after the mission in Yemen, the chance to save lives and gather intelligence on the elusive drug cartel they suspected had been behind many attempted military coups and terrorist attacks across the northern African continent had galvanized the FAST team into action. This was the kind of stuff they lived and breathed for.
It took them less than eighteen hours to assess, plan, and execute the rescue mission in the Gulf of Aden, with the support of a U.S. Navy amphibious assault ship and a destroyer.
Fifteen minutes later, two UH-1N Huey helicopters touched down on the main deck of the Nostradamus. The Marine Special Ops team aboard soon assumed control of the ship from the FAST team.
Rachel handed the communications room over to the two soldiers who came to relieve her.
'You guys did good,' said one of the men. He glanced at the bodies on the floor. 'I hear there are no casualties among your team or the hostages.'
She headed for the door, a small smile on her lips. 'Our team leader runs a tight ship.'
'I hear he's got a good XO.'
The soldier's gaze skimmed her figure, admiration evident in his eyes. His companion elbowed him in the ribs.
Rachel's smile turned into a full-blown grin that caused the Marine's breath to catch in his throat.
'That he has,' she said with a humble nod.
And this XO wants to see her commanding officer right now.
She found Benjamin Westfield,
aka Alpha One, on the bridge of the ship, where he stood in conversation with the Marine Special Ops team leader. Lights blazed through the windows of the superstructure dominating the cargo ship's upper deck. In the darkness beyond, she made out the assault ship and the destroyer on a fast approach, the waters of the Gulf parting in white, phosphorescent waves beneath their bows.
Thirty feet below the bridge of the Nostradamus, the hostages were being led to the safety of the Huey helicopters. The pirates who had survived the attack knelt in a huddle inside a ring of armed FAST agents and Marines on the starboard side of the main deck.
The ringleader of the pirates lay dead on the bridge. Next to him was another man. This one was very much alive and bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound to the abdomen. He was being attended to by Tom "Hannibal" Cook, aka Alpha Five, the FAST team's medic.
'Yeah, yeah, it sucks to be shot,' muttered Hannibal as the injured man groaned beneath his ministering hands. 'Shouldn't have seized this ship then, should you? Asshole.' He looked up when he spotted Rachel. 'Hey. We thought you were toast when you didn't respond earlier.' He glanced to the left and grinned. 'Ben was having kittens.'
Ben concluded his conversation and frowned at Hannibal.
'I was not having kittens,' he said in a hard voice. His gaze found her face. His eyes softened almost imperceptibly.
Rachel clamped down on the hot emotions flooding her chest as she walked up to him, aware of the Marine team leader's curious glance from the other side of the bridge.
