"What are we thinking? Training facility?" Lance asked.
Tink pointed to the building on the opposite side of the courtyard. "That one is probably barracks, also. And there is a fuel tank and truck along the east wall."
"The building at the back," Ben pointed the small building on its own with one small door, "must be an armory."
"So what is the big structure in the center?" Tink asked.
"Only one way to know for sure." Ben replaced the knife in its sheath and pulled his rifle from the vest. "Let's see who's staying in the big house."
11
Mia had been tossed into the back of a van, landing hard on her sore shoulder against the corrugated metal floor. Her head bounced off the metal, sending a burst of star-filled pain through her eyes. Not that she could see anything with the black hood over her face. Or do anything to escape, with her hands secured behind her back by what she assumed was zip ties biting into her skin. Someone jumped in next to her as the metal door slid shut. The van bounced around, tossing her back and forth, and a couple of times sent her sprawling on the floor. The jerk driving was probably intentionally hitting every pothole and rut in the road, getting his kicks out of watching her get flung around the interior.
Some time later—she had lost all context of time—the van stopped, and the door slid open. Dragged by her foot to the edge, someone grabbed her by the zip ties around her wrists, and yanked her to her feet. The hood was removed from her head, and she could make out a big house in front of her. Loud voices permeated the air around her. She turned her head to see where they were coming from, but couldn't see around the two men planted on either side of her.
Was that a cadence march she was hearing? She strained to hear what they were saying, but quickly deciphered whatever was being yelled was in Russian. Her two bodyguards forced her forward, up the stairs, onto a small landing and inside the building. A large staircase wound it's way up around the foyer. On either side of her were two sets of double-doors. The set to her left opened, and she was escorted inside.
A tall, obese man sat behind a large mahogany desk, smoking a cigar. He had a round red face that contrasted against the pure white of his thick hair.
One of the men spoke to him in Russian. Whitey nodded and waved at the man to leave. The man on her right pulled out his knife, grabbed her wrists, and sliced through the plastic bindings.
"Ms. Rowland, it is a pleasure to meet you, albeit under less than favorable conditions," Whitey said. He had a strong Russian accent, but his English was very good. "Come closer," he gestured to her, the guard nudging her forward. "I am Komidarm Petrov."
Spreadsheets were scattered across the desktop. Mia glanced at them, but couldn't make out any of the information written in Russian. She looked at the computer screen, but Petrov turned it away from her view. Perhaps whatever was on the screen was in English?
"Why have you kidnapped me?" Mia asked. Her heart had been beating fast and irregular for some time. At least the buzzing fear in her head had subsided. But sweat pooled in her armpits and lower back, and her voice was anything but calm and steady.
A pseudo-friendly smile slid across the Komidarm's face, but never hit his eyes. "I think you know why."
Mia bolstered what little reserved confidence she had left, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin. "You are mistaken. I am here on a humanitarian mission for the charities I represent. I can think of no reason why you would kidnap me."
Laughter erupted from the man, shaking his belly. "Mon dorogay, we both know that is not true. Let us not play games. Who are the men who came with you to Colombia?"
"Associates of mine," Mia answered. "Our clients are interested in donating to the area and we are here to seek out areas that can best be served by the charities they run."
Her guard slapped hard against her cheek, spraying pin needles of pain that burst across her jaw and through her temple. She tasted blood as it spread over her tongue.
Petrov shook his head, a grim smile across his lips. "Please, my dear, do not insult me. Tell me the names of your companions, and where they are."
Mia took in a slow breath to steady her nerves. She wanted to cry, but she'd be damned if she let the asshole reduce her to tears. And no way was she giving him information about Ben, Lance, and Mason. "I don't know where they are." Not a complete lie. She actually had no idea where the men were at that time. She silently prayed they had found the compound. "When I woke this morning they were gone."
"They went off without you? I thought you were all on a fact-finding mission?" Leaning back in his chair, he placed his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers.
"There were discussions last night that the back country of Colombia might not be safe for a woman." She narrowed her eyes at her captor. "Seems they were correct."
Petrov's nostrils flared, and the red of his cheeks deepened, which Mia had thought impossible. He shifted his gaze to the man grasping her arm. "Take our guest to her cell and see if you can't convince her to be more forthcoming with information."
Mia's heart sank. They had already hit her a few times. Now, Petrov seemed on the hairy edge of pissed at her resistance. What would they do to her? Beat her? Rape her? Torture her?
"I will never tell you what you want to know, but know this—if you hurt me, my friends will hunt you down and kill you. That I can assure you."
"If that is what it takes to get them out of hiding," Petrov said, the fake smile back in place, "then I welcome the challenge, Ms. Rowland."
The guard dragged her from the room and out a different door. There was a large open area at the back of the house. Pulling her across it, she tripped over her feet a couple of times, to the disgust of the guard. Ahead of her was a iron cage. Surely, he wasn't going to put her in there? There was no cover, and it sat in the hot sun.
As if in answer to her unspoken question, one of the guards opened the cell, and she was thrown inside. The large man that had been her constant companion stepped inside with her. Mia watched in horror as the door to the cell closed behind him, and the latch engaged.
Oh, fuck!
Mia scrambled backwards until her back hit the steel bars of the cage. She was trapped. The man took three strides to reach her. She tried to prepare herself for the assault, but had no idea what he would do to her, so she was unable to protect any specific part of her body.
The answer came in a swift punch to her stomach. She fell forward onto her knees, clutching her belly and trying to suck in air. The second hit was across her jaw. Mia cried in pain, blood spurting from her mouth. She fell onto her side, and almost had enough time to curl into a ball before his heavy black boot connected with her ribs. All the air in her lungs burst free, leaving Mia gasping for air. Her side was on fire where he kicked her.
He leaned over, grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head off the ground. "That is just a sample of what I will do to you if your memory doesn't improve."
"Fuck you," Mia muttered.
He slammed her head into the hard ground, and everything went black.
Ben, Lance, and Tink made their way around the perimeter of the wall. They needed an idea of how many men were within the facility, and what type of firepower they had.
"I estimate about seventy-five to a hundred men. The question is if there are stragglers in the two barracks," Ben said, and then pointed at the main center building, "and how many are in the big house."
Lance checked his watch before pointing at Tink. "Take the two bunk houses. I'll check the building at that backs and confirm it's an armory." Lance poked Ben in the chest. "Humps, see if you can get into the main building undetected, and get a count on tangos along with a checklist of what and where. If this is an RRA stronghold or training facility, command is going to want as much intel as possible before we make a strike." He took a deep breath, looking sternly at both men. "Remember, this is recon only. Hold fire unless the situation warrants. We have no back up and no cover, gentlemen, which means we are
on our own out here. If shit goes down, we are fucked without the benefit of a reach around."
"Understood" Ben said.
"Rally point is back here in thirty mikes." Lance pulled out a map and unfolded it. "Primary extraction point is Alpha, due west of our current location. If Alpha is a no go, Bravo is due east—here—" he pointed to a spot on the map on the opposite side of the compound.
"And if all hell breaks loose?" Tink asked. All hell breaking loose meant they were in a world of shit and required an emergency evacuation by helicopter.
"Scale the wall and head to the open field. The helo should be able to touch down there, but I wouldn't expect it to stick around for long." Lance folded the map and slid it back inside the pocket on his vest. "Look, listen, and report back. No heroics."
The three men slapped each other on the bicep. "Move out."
Ben crouched and ran to the corner of the main house. Standing with his back against the wall, he peered around the corner. A door was about two hundred feet down the back, unguarded. That would be his point of entry.
A scream pierced the air, drawing Ben's gaze to what appeared to be a pen…or a cage. A man dressed in black was standing over a body that was lying on the ground.
Poor bastard. Wonder what he did to get that punishment?
Must have been one of the recruits. Looked awfully small compared to the other men in the compound. Thin. Almost looked like a woman. Ben squinted to get a better look. White short sleeved shirt. Tight black pants, and white canvas shoes.
He sucked in a breath. Was that what Mia was wearing when he had left her earlier?
Long, brown hair covered the woman's head.
It had to be Mia.
Fuck!
What the hell had happened after he left? How did she end up here?
None of that mattered at the moment. The Russian Godzilla in the cell with her didn't seem to be bothered at all by the fact that he was beating the shit out of a woman.
Ben glanced back at Lance and caught his attention. Ben curled his hand into a fist and placed the thumb end against his forehead above his eye, then wrapped the same hand around his forearm, and held up three fingers. I see three enemies. Placing his fist above his eye again, he grabbed the base of his throat. I see a hostage.
Lance curled his fingers into his palm, with the thumb on the outside. Understood.
No, you don't. It's not just any hostage—it's Mia.
But there was no way for Ben to signal that. He watched as Lance signaled the info to Tink, then turned back to Ben, and patted his helmet. Cover me.
Ben held his hand up and peered around the corner. No one seemed to have made him. No tangos close by. He looked at Lance and motioned him to come toward him. When both Lance and Think had joined him, he informed them that the hostage was Mia.
"Any idea of the extent of her injuries?" Lance whispered.
Ben shook his head. He hadn't heard a gunshot, so he was relatively sure she hadn't been shot. But he had seen the Russian's boot come back and kick her in the side. "Possible broken ribs, but no information beyond that."
Lance pulled his cell phone out and pressed the screen. "Tex, we have an innocent with possible injuries. We're going with Charlie extraction." There was a pause while he listened to Tex on the other end of the line. "Time to extraction?" Another pause. "Roger, out here." He pressed end, and put his phone away. "We have twenty mikes to get Mia and reach the rendezvous point with the helo."
"What's the plan?" Tink asked.
The men dropped to one knee. Lance used the ground as a drawing board. "Two tangos outside the cell. The one inside with her is problematic. Even if we take out the two outside, by the time we get inside, the third could kill her."
"Not to mention, sound the alarm, and then we'd have the entire camp on us," Tink added.
"Okay, so we sit and hope this guy gets tired of kicking the shit out of her and leaves?" Ben shook his head. Fire burned in the center of his chest. No way. He was not going to sit and watch Mia take a beating and do nothing to stop that Russian asshole.
"Diversion," Tink said.
Lance glanced at Tink. "What do you have in mind?"
He drew a large circle in the dirt. "We're here. The extraction point for Charlie is here—" He made an X off to the side of the circle. "We need to draw as many men over here as we can." Another large X went on the opposite side of the circle. "I suggest Lance and I go here. I set a few C4 charges, and blow the fuel tank. We scale the wall, circle south, and create some gunfire havoc at the gate—make sure no commie bastards try to evacuate. Humps can get Mia out. We rendezvous at the helo."
"Solid plan," Lance said. "Humps?"
"Agree." A part of Ben hoped the man who had caused Mia pain would remain behind. Nothing would make Ben happier than to bring that motherfucker to his knees right before cutting his balls off and stuffing them down his throat.
No man should hurt a woman…especially his woman.
When had he started thinking of her that way?
No time to think about that right then. He had more important things to concentrate on.
"Go!" Lance commanded.
Ben watched the two men run the length of the house, and disappear around the front. He carefully peered around the corner. The Russian fucker left Mia's cell, and was walking toward the back of the house. If he reached Ben before the guys implemented the distraction, Ben was going to take pleasure lining up a shot to the man's head and dropping him where he stood.
An explosion rocked the compound. Everyone froze. The second blast wasn't as loud as the first—must've been the truck sitting next to the fuel tank.
Men in black berets shouted commands in Russian. Ben dropped to his belly between a row of bushes and the side of the house. A mass exodus of men ran to the front of the compound, leaving the back of the property empty—except for Mia.
Checking his surroundings once more, he darted across the yard to the cell. Within a couple of seconds, he had the door to the cell open, and was crouched by Mia's side. He brushed her hair from her face, intent on checking to see if she was conscious—or had a pulse. Her arms blocked her head and she swatted at his hands.
"Mia, it's Ben."
She stilled and slowly uncovered her face. Her eyes were wide, wild, and wet from tears. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, and she had large red marks along her jaw and cheek. No doubt they would be dark bruises in a couple of days. Ben was sure they probably hurt like hell, and he hoped none of her bones were broken.
"Ben." She struggled to sit up.
Placing his hand around her elbow, he helped her stand. "Let's get you out of here." They stepped out of the cell, and he turned west toward the wall. Getting her over was going to be challenging, and painful for her. "We have to get to the field on the other side of the compound."
"No, I can't leave."
Ben stared at her. What the hell?
"We have to get in there." She pointed to the house. "We have to get the laptop."
12
Ben stared at Mia as if her brain had been beaten out of her head. He checked his watch, and exhaled noisily through his nose. "We have fifteen minutes to get to the field where the helicopter is landing."
"If we don't get the laptop, this will all be for nothing." Mia wasn't sure exactly what was on the computer, but she knew if they didn't get it, any information stored on it would be lost to them. And that meant Mia would never be safe. She would spend the rest of her life wondering when the fatal shot would strike her.
"Can you find it?" Ben asked.
She nodded. "Yes, it's in the room at the front of the house, on the right side if we go in the back door."
Ben grabbed her hand. "Can you run?"
"Yes," she said. "I just can't breathe that well." She had meant it as a joke, even though it was true. The storm that raged in Ben's eyes made her wish she hadn't mentioned her aches and pains. How much of her beating had he seen?
They took off across
the yard. Black plumes of smoke billowed through the air. She wasn't sure what the hell had just exploded—or who had done it—but she knew she was away from the sadistic Russian. They stopped next to the back door, standing with their backs against the wall. Ben pulled a pistol from its holster attached to the top of his chest. He disengaged the safety, and pulled the slide back, cocking the gun. "Do you know how to shoot one of these?"
"It's been a few years," she said, taking the heavy steel in her hand. "I can handle it."
"Tell me how many men you remember when you were inside, and the basic layout."
Mia explained the rooms the she had seen, the armed guards, but couldn't tell him if there had been more on the second floor or in the room with the doors closed. "The room I was in was an office. I met with a man named Petrov. Must have been high ranking, because he was giving orders to the other men. He's also the one with the laptop."
"Okay, stay behind me. If something happens, you run for the wall and get over it anyway you can. On the other side is an open field. Lance and Tink will be there with a helicopter to get you out of here and back to safety. You do not wait for me. You do not try to save me. You do what I say, even if I tell you to leave me behind. Do you understand?"
Mia stood dumbfounded. No, she wouldn't leave him behind. Not now that she had found a man she actually wanted to have a long-term relationship with. Maybe marry, and have kids. How could he ask her to go without him?
He must have read her mind because he took her free hand and raised it to his lips. "I'm trained to get out of situations that look inescapable." He placed his hand on the side of her cheek and gazed into her eyes. "I don't plan on letting you get away from me that easily. There is something between us that's special, and I'm not just going to pass up finding out what it is."
Ben opened the door slowly, stepped inside, and then motioned for Mia to follow him in. She pointed down the hall to the foyer, and then made a gestured to the right side. Ben nodded, his rifle moving from side to side, and then up as they moved into the foyer. Twisting the knob on the one of the double doors, he opened it an inch or two, and peered in.
Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Mia (Kindle Worlds) Page 14
