by J. B. Havens
“I can’t tell you where it is, sir, because I don’t know.” He would lie as little as possible. So far, they hadn’t asked him any questions he knew the answers to.
“Horseshit!” Roberts exploded from his chair, leaning down and getting into Jackson’s face. “You know where they went. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. They went to Russia, didn’t they?” Roberts spit the words out in Jackson’s face. Rigid military discipline was the only thing keeping him in his chair and not planting Roberts into the floor.
“I suggest you get out of my face. Right. Now.” Jackson ground the words out through clenched teeth.
“Roberts, sit your ass down before I make you leave.” General Grafton’s voice was stretched thin with impatience.
Warmack took control of the meeting again. I’ll be frank with you, Master Sergeant. I can’t prove you know where they are. If they are in Russia, they are now traitors. We will send a team to find Steel Corps and bring them back for trial. You can help us, or you can sit on trial with them.” He leaned forward as he finished his threats, waiting for a reaction.
“With all due respect, sir, shove it up your ass. The people in this room are the ones responsible for this mess; and worse, for the deaths of American soldiers. Like I told Roberts, I know where the skeletons hang and where the bodies are buried. I will drag it all out into the light, and make it front page news. Even if it means I take myself down with it. Generals have been flayed in the media for screwing around on their wives; what do you think will happen when this gets out? And if you threaten me or my team again, I will make sure it gets out.” Jackson stood, his patience gone. “Steel is finished. It’s over. Consider this my notification of retirement.” Turning to leave and enjoying the shocked silence in his wake, he had one more bit of information to pass on. “And another thing. If something happens to me, I’ve taken steps to have all my files sent to every news station, paper, and fucking blog in the country. Keep that in mind before you send any goons after me or mine. And I expect no problem collecting my full pension, either. Good day, gentlemen.”
Jackson gave in to his childish desire and slammed the door closed behind him. With a curt nod to the now pale-faced clerk, he strode out of the office. Feeling lighter and freer than he had in a decade, Jackson had one goal in mind. Get home to Beatrice and give her a map. It was time to pick where they would live out their lives. He didn’t care where they went; as long as he was with her, he’d be happy.
One day he would find Mic and the others and patch things up. He didn’t anticipate too much trouble for them in the future. The SecDef had his eye on the oval office and he wasn’t about to risk the political fallout Jackson could cause. Warmack would be lucky to stay out of jail, let alone be allowed to step foot onto Pennsylvania Avenue.
With a spring in his step, Jackson unbuttoned the choking collar of his shirt and slipped off the heavily starched jacket of his uniform. Civilian life was a mystery to him, but he looked forward to trying it on. He hoped it was a nice relaxed fit.
****
The SUV was cramped and cold. I didn’t want us raising suspicions any more than necessary. Flynn’s tall frame was slouched in the driver’s seat, looking very uncomfortable. Jones and I were on the passenger side, so we had binoculars ready to observe any vehicle leaving the back of the warehouse.
Rook was hidden near a dumpster at the back, disguised as a homeless man, but well out of sight. I wasn’t taking a chance we’d follow the wrong vehicle and miss this opportunity.
The front of the building was very generic and nondescript; the steady stream of men and women entering and leaving the steel front door was not. Back home, the police would be all over a place like this. It was eerie how similar, yet different, Russia was. I’d been to countries and cities all over the world, but no other place had felt like this.
“I’ve got movement,” Jones reported from behind me. Putting the binoculars back to my eyes, I tracked the white panel van heading to the rear of the building.
“Copy. I see them.” Pressing the button on my radio, I spoke to Rook. “Tell me what you see.”
“White van, two targets. Male. Exiting the van now. Over.”
“Everyone be ready. Flynn, you good?”
“I got this. Haven’t been lucky enough to do a car chase in a while.”
Pierce wacked Flynn on the back of the head, trying to cement his words into his buddy’s thick skull. “The point is to follow them, not chase them. We want to intercept and grab that fucker Anton at the first opportunity.”
“Copy that, Sergeant,” Flynn sneered, laying the sarcasm on thick.
“Shut the fuck up, you two.” My patience was wearing thin.
“Targets coming out. Two packages in hand. Repeat, two packages. Over.”
“Copy, bug out. Get your ass back here.” I wasn’t leaving without Rook. “Okay, boys, tighten it up, game time.” The clicks and snaps of rifles being readied behind me were sweet sounds.
The door behind me jerked open, and a shivering Rook slipped inside. He began stripping off the outer layers of his disguise as Flynn started the SUV and prepared to follow the van.
“Here we go,” I whispered, mostly to myself as headlights appeared from the back side of the warehouse. “Give him a little space; be subtle, Flynn.”
“Stop worrying, Mother; I’ve got this.”
The van drove past us and after a count of five, Flynn pulled out into traffic after it. He did the speed limit, keeping a few cars between us and the van. The snow around us was striped yellow, then white, as we passed street lights. A full moon rose over the buildings, its glow bright against the black sky.
I snapped my attention forward as we came to a stop at a red light. There were apartment buildings to the left and right, giant concrete structures that looked as if they were made of children’s building blocks. Each had a small courtyard near the street where people lingered and talked in groups, even in this bitter cold.
The van was three cars up ahead, closest to the intersection. The light switched to green and we followed once more.
“Rook, any idea where we’re headed?” I didn’t take my eyes off the van in front of us, terrified we would somehow lose it.
“No idea. A house most likely. I’m not as familiar with this area as I am with Moscow.”
Rook’s guess proved to be true as we turned onto a quiet residential street. Large houses, even bigger than our safe house, loomed in the darkness. Expansive lawns, thick with pristine white snow, kept a great distance between the roadway and the homes.
“Flynn, back off.” He was already slowing before the words left my mouth.
The van continued down the street, red brake lights shining in the darkness as it slowed to turn. As we drove past, I saw a giant gate open up and allow the van entrance. Damn. The house was so far back, I couldn’t see more than the shape of it in the darkness.
“Dammit. Jones, can you deal with the security in there?”
“Should be able to.” He pulled out his laptop in response. “I’ll have to get closer; need to see the connections and what they’re running.”
“Flynn, pull over here.” I pointed to a house with a For Sale sign on the lawn. Or at least, that’s what I assumed it was.
“Jordon, go with Jones and cover him. Rook, Pierce, come with me. Let’s do some recon. Flynn, keep this bucket ready to go; we might be coming in hot.” I pulled my tactical hood up over my face, more for warmth than to conceal my identity.
Snow and ice crunched under my boots as we hustled through the yard of the neighboring house. A stroke of luck shined upon us—the neighbor had kids. The snow was full of tracks and paths from sleds. Our footprints would go unnoticed.
We followed the fence separating the two lots and I prayed it didn’t encircle the entire property. Climbing an ice covered wrought-iron fence in the dark was not something I needed to check off of my bucket list. Unfortunately, my prayers were not answered.
I crouch
ed down next to the fence, motioning the guys up beside me. “Rook, got any suggestions?”
“Up and over. Steal the van, open the gate from the inside.”
“Pierce? Input?” This mission was different than all our others. I wanted everyone on board and on the same page.
“Sounds good. I have a few surprises that can cover us.”
“No good. This needs to be quiet as fuck. No explosions.” I switched gears, wanting to check on Jones and Jordon. “Jones, how we doing?”
“Good. Tapped into the security for the house. Our boy Anton lives here. This isn’t the buyer’s house. Over.” I cursed under my breath. I had hoped to take out Anton and the buyer at the same time.
“Copy. Confirm when we’re green to enter. Over.” The cold was numbing my fingers, seeping through my gloves.
“Copy. Thirty seconds.” The stress in Jones’s voice was clear.
I spoke into the radio for everyone to hear. “Rook and Jordon, secure the packages; Jones and Pierce, with me. I want Anton alive. Repeat. No casualties.”
One by one, they confirmed my orders. Adrenaline was spiking through my blood, making me forget about the cold. My thoughts hit on my objectives—get the women out, secure Anton, make it back to the safe house without alerting the police. I’d need Rook to call Nickoli back, have him come and take care of the women. The plans formulating in my mind did not allow for civilians.
Jones came over the radio. “Green. I repeat; you’re green.”
With no hesitation, Rook jumped up and cupped his hands to hoist me over the fence. Luckily, it wasn’t topped with razor wire or metal spikes, just nice smooth metal. I straddled the top and reaching down, helped pull up Pierce. He copied my movements and then we grabbed Rook.
We landed as one in the snow with a soft thump. Staying in a crouch, we advanced quickly. I got my first decent glimpse of the house. It was a hulking white monstrosity, contemporary and nearly square. Glass windows covered the front and an attached four car garage stretched out to the left. The garage was two stories and I made that our goal. Directing Rook and Pierce with hand signals, we used the landscape to our advantage. Dropping to our stomachs, we crawled with our elbows in the snow, rifles held out in front of us.
Above us, I could see the metal housings for security lights, but even with our movements, they remained dark. Thank God for geeks and their mad skills.
“Jones, Jordon, proceed inside,” I ordered. Two black blurs sped up the driveway, staying well to the side, using the high snow bank as cover. I doubted Anton brought his work into his home, so that left only one other place they could be. “Garage is our target.”
We reached the edge of the snow bank around the driveway and swiftly slid down it and onto the shoveled pavement. Careful to remain behind the concealment it offered, I led the men to the garage.
Besides the four bays, there was no other outside access. It was attached to the house, so it didn’t need any entrance other than the overhead garage doors.
“Jones.” He knew what I wanted without me needing to ask.
“I cut the security for the whole place. If we lift a door, there won’t be an alarm.”
“Get it done.”
He pulled a small black case from one of his pants pockets. Inside were a number of lock picking tools. He studied the lock on the handle of the door before choosing which pick to use. Fifteen seconds later, he twisted the handle and lifted the door about eight inches off the ground.
“Fucking right.” Lying on my back, I slid inside the garage. Getting to my feet, I covered the others as they entered.
The garage was dark. The van we’d followed was parked in the bay to the left; a sleek black car was in front of us; and a blacked-out SUV was to its right. The bay on the end was empty. Hearing a noise, I looked up, trying to zero in on the source. Footsteps above us. Snapping my fingers to get the guys’ attention, I pointed up.
“Find the stairs,” I mouthed. I didn’t want to risk using the radios. We fanned out around the vehicles, using them as cover as we made our way deeper into the darkness of the garage.
The voices got louder as a door opened. I signaled everyone down and rolled beneath the SUV, Jordon joining me. I couldn’t see the others, but I hoped they’d found cover.
The sounds around us told a story; a door slammed… footsteps walked deeper into the garage. They were speaking Russian, but the tone was easy enough to understand. I heard crude laughter, the flick of a lighter as someone lit a cigarette, a garage door whirring as it raised.
Fuck! They’ll see our tracks in the snow!
I signaled Jordon to follow me and slid out from under the SUV. Stalking forward on silent feet, we came up behind two men standing in the driveway smoking. I pointed to the left, indicating to Jordon to take that man. I would take the one on the right.
Refusing to fire a shot, I pulled my K-bar. I didn’t glance at Jordon, instead trusting he would handle his target. Flipping the blade upward so the butt of the hilt pointed down, I crept behind my target and struck up and to the side as hard as I could. The knife hilt made contact with the man’s temple. He grunted softly and crumpled to the ground. Out cold.
Jordon used his rifle butt, knocking his man out and splitting open his temple. Blood ran down the man’s face, obscuring his features. He’d live, but would wake up with one hell of a headache.
Pierce rushed forward, zip ties clutched in his hand. He quickly secured the men’s hands and feet and Rook helped him drag them to the side. I had no interest in these goons. I was here for Anton.
I had been so focused on the men, I didn’t take note of where they’d come from. In the back right side of the garage was a set of stairs, the steps illuminated by a sliver of light coming from under the door.
I waved Pierce over to me. “Do you have any tear gas?”
“I like the way you think, Mic.” He pulled two canisters out of his pockets and handed one to me. I passed it to Rook, earning me an eye roll from Pierce.
“We don’t have masks,” Jordon whispered.
“Embrace the suck, my friend.” Pierce grinned at Jordon, who audibly ground his teeth.
Time was running out; we’d already been there too damn long. I spoke softly to my men gathered closely around me. “Pierce, Rook, you’re on point. Jones and Jordon, stay down here and provide cover. Breach the door, pop the gas in, stand back, and catch whoever runs out. Copy?”
Rook and Pierce jogged ahead; I followed close on their heels. We hurried up the stairs as silently as possible. The wooden steps were just wide enough for them to stand abreast. Lowering themselves to one knee in front of the door, they waited for me to throw it open.
Reaching over their lowered bodies, I took hold of the knob, softly twisting it, testing to see if it was locked. Just as I thought; it wasn’t. I used my fingers to start a three count. Reaching one, I turned the knob and threw the door open hard, banging it against the opposite wall. I dropped down out of the way as the tear gas canisters hissed open and flew into the room.
Rook reached in, quickly grabbing the door and slamming it shut. We backtracked down the steps and waited.
It wasn’t long. The door crashed open and bullets were fired down on us, nearly simultaneously. Ducking behind a steel barrel, I used it for cover; the others scattered around the garage doing the same.
Someone shouted in Russian, followed by more gunfire.
Rook shouted back and returned fire.
“Dammit, Rook, what did he say?” I yelled across to where he was behind a twin of the barrel in front of me.
“He says he’ll kill us all.”
Heavy coughing and hacking were coming from upstairs; the gas was doing its job. I could feel the burn of it in my own eyes and throat. “We’ll fucking see about that.”
The Russian paused in his firing, either to cough a lung up or reload, I didn’t care. However, I was going to take advantage of it. Clutching my rifle tight, I ran up the steps, keeping low. The gas burned a
little, but after numerous exposures to it, the irritating stuff didn’t affect us nearly as bad as it did the average person.
The hazy outline of a man was in the doorway, doubled over coughing and spitting. The gas was burning through his sinuses, choking him. Holding my rifle perpendicular to my body, I smashed it forward into his vulnerable face. His nose exploded under the force of the blow and he fell backward.
Quickly rolling him over, I secured his hands and feet with my zip ties. Looking beyond his body, I quickly assessed that the rest of the room was clear of tangos. Pushing his gasping body to the side, I stepped around him and opened the two windows on the far side of the room. Frigid clean air rushed in, lessening the concentration of the gas.
“Room’s secure boys!” I shouted down the stairs. I found a switch and flooded the room with light. As the smoke cleared out the open windows, I got my first good look of the horror in the room.
Two women were huddled on a bare mattress in the corner; tears and snot had made a mess of their faces. They were naked and shaking in fear. I likely didn’t lessen their level of fear since I was dressed all in black, holding a rifle, and had my face covered and a machete strapped to my thigh. I was probably a sight to behold.
Rook was the first one in the room. His medical training kicked in and he rushed to assess the girls. Jerking down his tactical hood, he spoke to them in Russian and cut their hands and legs free. He was pulling things out of his kit, cleaning their faces and giving them water. I left him to it and made my way around the rest of the room.
Opposite the two girls was a freaking dentist’s chair, outfitted with stirrups, of all fucking things. An involuntary shiver racked my body at the memory of being in Mexico, tied to that table like an animal and humiliated.
Shutting that part of my brain off, I walked over to our hostage.
“Well, you’re getting damn proficient at breaking people’s noses,” Pierce said over his shoulder where he was attempting to clean some of the blood off Anton. And it was Anton. A bit battered and bloodied, but he was our man.
