SANDFIRE
CAINE: RAPID FIRE BOOK THREE
Andrew Warren
Aiden L. Bailey
SANDFIRE
Andrew Warren
Copyright © 2018 by Andrew Warren. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
Cover design by Onur Aksoy
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Contents
Readers Group
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Thank You!
What to Read Next
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Author’s Note
The events of Sandfire take place before Devil’s Due , when Thomas Caine is still a paramilitary officer in the CIA’s Special Activities Division / Special Operations Group…
Chapter One
SOUTHERN ALPS, NEW ZEALAND
Thomas Caine sensed death in the cold mountain air.
The tingling hairs on the back of his neck, the quickening pulse behind his temples… Signs he had ignored in the past, and the consequences of doing so had been horrific. Never again. He was learning to trust these instincts. He didn’t know who, or why or how. He just knew that death would soon find its mark.
As his senses heightened, Caine reassessed his situation and mentally prepared himself. The trek up the steep mountain had been harder than he expected. The air was thin and his breathing was labored. Snow covered almost everything and its powdery depths slowed his pace. His large backpack felt far heavier than it had this morning. The sun radiated both in the sky and off the white shrouded landscape. It was almost blinding at this elevation, where there were no trees to block its glare.
When he spotted a prefabricated hut up ahead, Caine knew his destination was close, so he picked up the pace. The hut would contain bunks, kitchen facilities, and tables and chairs to lay out maps or play cards. A support service for trekkers and campers in New Zealand’s cold but majestic South Island. Caine didn’t care about any of that. He cared only that the woman he travelled from one side of the planet to the other to meet in person was present.
Pausing for a few seconds, Caine slid his Glock 17 semi-automatic pistol from his parka pocket. He pulled back on the slide, chambering the first 9mm round. Then he marched forward again. He soon reached the crest of the mountain, where the hut stood. The magnificent view of the rugged, snow-capped Southern Alps stretched out before him, filling the horizon.
He took a moment to gather his breath.
A woman stepped out of the hut. The AR-15 hunting rifle gripped tight in her gloved hands was aimed at the center of Caine’s head.
“You came?” she said, sounding surprised. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
She wore ski pants and a snow jacket over her slim figure. He noticed strands of her hair peaking out from under her cream-colored beanie. They were dyed blonde. She’d invested time in changing her appearance.
“You doubted me, Emily?”
“I did.” Her lips curled into a slight grin, but she didn’t lower the weapon.
“What happened? Why are you suddenly on the CIA’s Capture or Kill list?”
Caine knew Emily Argyle well. A former U.S. Army lieutenant with the Military Intelligence Corps, Argyle had been recruited into the CIA around the same time as Caine. While Caine was accepted into the Special Activities Division’s Special Operations Group—commonly known as SAD/SOG—Argyle joined the Directorate of Support, in the logistics and foreign station support group. When Caine was tasked with infiltrating foreign countries to ‘neutralize’ enemies of the state, Argyle was the agent sent in to support him. On many occasions she had equipped Caine in the field, through dead drops and via intermediaries. She provided him with tools and weapons he would never have been able to source himself. She had covered his back on more occasions than she should have. She had always been reliable and forthright.
Yet for reasons Caine didn’t understand, something had gone horribly wrong for her.
Emily Argyle had not answered his question, so he prodded. “Two and a half weeks ago, in Yemen, you vanished. The same day, two hundred thousand U.S. dollars disappeared from the Station House’s contingency funds. Last week you show up on an Australian Customs surveillance tape at Perth International Airport. Then you disappear again, only to turn up here in New Zealand’s remotest corner, asking for my help. You have to admit... it doesn't look good.”
Argyle stared down the sight of her Colt AR-15. Less than a hundred yards separated them. Her weapon was the semi-automatic version of the United States military M16 rifle. If her intention was to shoot him, Caine knew Argyle would not miss at this range.
“You need to drop the weapon if you want to hear my side of the story,” she said, a slight quavering in her voice.
Caine wasn’t ready to relinquish his pistol just yet. “You wanted to talk. You set up this meeting and now I’m here. Do you want my help or not?”
She hesitated, licked her lips, and blinked rapidly for a few seconds. “It’s not that simple, is it Caine?” While her weapon remained raised, her eyes darted left to right, like she was expecting other parties to show.
“What if I holster the weapon?” he offered.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Throw it away.”
Their elevation was far above the snow line. There were no trees this high, nowhere Caine could run for cover. Only snow and the occasional low outcrop of dark, jagged rock. Sensing that Argyle would not be swayed, Caine threw the weapon far into the snow. Mentally he marked where it had fallen. Just in case.
“Good. See, we’re getting somewhere. ”
Caine nodded. His favored SIG Sauer P226 pistol remained out of sight in his right parka pocket. As his instructors had trained him long ago, anticipate what a foe might do in advance. Then prepare for those outcomes. Argyle should have remembered that lesson as well, and checked him for secondary weapons.
“Happy now?”
She nodded but didn’t lower the rifle. “You come alone?”
“Do you see any friends?”
Argyle considered Caine’s claim, then shook her head. “My own people…” she started, then choked back her words as her voice trailed off.
“What the hell is going on?” He liked Emily Argyle, respected her and trusted her. He was hoping they could work this out, that he could bring her in, and in time she would be forgiven. But the lengths she had gone to cover her tracks
, and the missing funds… He had to suspect the worst. “Did you steal the money?”
She nodded. “Couldn’t have run if I didn’t.”
“Start at the beginning.” He was sweating now, despite the subzero temperatures. There was nothing like having a gun pointed at his head to get the blood flowing.
“We were all doing it…”
“Doing what?”
“Making money on the side, Caine. Unsanctioned activities. Tell me you haven’t done that yourself?”
Caine glared at her, but said nothing.
Emily shot him another brief smile, and sighed. “No, I don’t suppose you have. Not that you’re any saint. Don’t forget, Tom, I was the one who watched over your ass. I know the things you’ve done.”
Caine lowered his voice. “Emily, please. I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”
She nodded, perhaps finally sensing that she had no other choice. “We were flying Twin Otter planes in and out of the capital, Sana’a, on a weekly, sometimes daily basis. The planes were fitted with long-range tanks. That allowed us to bring in arms and equipment from bases in Djibouti and Abu Dhabi. But once they dropped their cargo, they were flying out empty.”
Caine could see where this was going. “So you and your partners used the space to transport personal manifests. Contraband you could sell for a profit on the side?” He was imagining drugs. Probably khat, which was grown everywhere in Yemen. Something like ninety percent of the local population chewed the plant for its euphoric properties. The leaves were consumed the same way Americans drank coffee.
“Something like that.”
“What, exactly?”
She shuddered. “Pharmaceutical drugs. Medicines. Vaccines.”
Caine was lost for words. Yemen was suffering through some of the worst humanitarian disasters on the planet. The struggling country contained the largest displaced person camps in the world, and was overrun with diseases like cholera, dengue fever and malaria. It seemed cruel that the organizations tasked with helping the people of Yemen were taking medical drugs out of the country for profit.
Still... While criminal, this was hardly traitorous behavior. Caine sensed there had to be more to her story. “What else was on the plane?”
She shuddered again, scared half to death. “Why does there have to be anything else?”
“Because you wouldn’t run for that. You would have begged for forgiveness.”
“If I tell you, then they really will hunt me down. Kill me. They’ll hunt you too, because you’ll know. If I say nothing, they might just be okay with me disappearing forever.”
“Who are they?” The anger was rising in Caine’s tone. He needed Argyle to understand how serious this was.
Her eyes drifted again, as if she expected assassins to pop up out of nowhere and kill them both. It wasn’t an unreasonable fear. The hairs tingling on the back of his neck, the pulsing blood behind his temples… Caine assumed Emily was sensing the same unseen danger he did.
“I called you, Caine, because it was the right thing to do…”
When her voice trailed away to nothing again, Caine gritted his teeth. “Emily, just get it out, now!”
“A Twin Otter went down in the Empty Quarter. You know what the Empty Quarter is, don’t you?”
“The Rub’ al Khali. The largest continuous sand desert in the world. Encompasses most of the southern third of the Arabian Peninsula.”
“That’s right. A huge, unbelievably hot and lifeless desert.” She licked her lips again. She was shaking. It had been a long time since Caine had seen someone this scared. Fear brought out the worst in people and now he noticed the AR-15 was jittery in her grip. The last thing he wanted was to be shot by mistake because Argyle lost her nerve. “Easy to get lost in. Easy to die in.”
Caine grimaced. “What was on the plane?”
“Not what, who. Jarod Forster.”
“Who is Jarod Forster?”
“CIA, like us. We’re friends. Well, more than that. We were close. But he’s dead now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What did he have that got him killed?”
“Leverage, on a data stick. Intel, that if it got out, would compromise the whole U.S.-Saudi relationship…” Once again, her voice faded away to nothing. It was as if every word she spoke brought her impending demise closer.
“Emily?” Caine had tired of teasing information from the rogue agent. Argyle had contacted him, via an encrypted message less than a day ago. She asked to meet him at this location, at this time, for an opportunity to tell her side of the story. Caine’s background research confirmed the CIA wanted her brought in for debriefing. And if that proved too difficult, they wanted her dead.
Caine was her last chance to avoid either fate. Emily should have appreciated she had no other friends left. Cooperating with him was her only option now. “What was on the—”
The wind picked up, buffeting Caine. He struggled to stand upright.
Emily too was shaken by the winds. She could no longer hold her rifle steady. Suddenly she wasn’t looking at Caine anymore, but the sky above him. Her eyes grew wide with fear.
It took Caine a few seconds to register the sound of whipping helicopter blades.
He turned fast, pulling the SIG Sauer from his parka. A black twin-engine AgustaWestland AW109 helicopter hovered no more than a hundred yards behind him. Three soldiers in white camouflaged fatigues and armed with M4A1 assault carbines rappelled to the surface. As they disappeared in the snowfields, a fourth soldier inside the helicopter locked his weapon on Caine.
Caine dove behind the closest jutting black rock. Gunfire erupted. Bright muzzle flashes and ear-jarring booms exploded around him, sending puffs of snow into the air.
There was a pause as the weapon was presumably reloaded. Caine prepped to return fire but there was no time. The shooting started up again. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Caine realized he was pinned down, with nowhere to go. The helicopter would soon circle around for a clear shot… Assuming the assailants on the ground didn’t reach him first.
“Argyle!” Caine called out. He needed to make a run for it or he was a dead man. “Cover me!”
There was no answer.
Then the hut disintegrated in a gigantic, fiery explosion
Chapter Two
The explosion catapulted Caine through the air and smashed him hard into the snow. Winded, he wheezed for a moment before he could breathe again. His ribs felt broken, but when he touched them they all seemed to be in place. He didn’t want to imagine the bruising that would soon spread across his body, but that was the least of his problems.
Dazed, he looked up. Only a lucky fall had saved him, allowing his rocky cover to take the brunt of the explosive force.
Regaining his senses, Caine grabbed his pistol from where it had fallen, then stumbled to his feet. Flaming debris lay scattered and hissing in the snow. Cindered flecks fell from the sky like black snowflakes. Thick dark smoke plumed from the wreckage of the hut.
He scanned the skies for the helicopter, and finally spotted it some distance away. It was wobbling in the air, struggling to regain stability. Smoke trails poured from various punctures in the hull. Caine realized the hut’s destruction wasn't caused by the soldiers' ambush.
He searched for Emily Argyle, but she had vanished. Squinting in the harsh sun, he noticed ski tracks heading away from the burning hut.
She must have set explosive charges herself, he thought. Remotely detonated them to cover her escape, knowing a kill team would come for her.
Caine realized he had been wrong about her. She’d remembered her training well.
The helicopter's rotors beat in the distance. The aircraft was still beyond firing range. Caine took a deep breath, and reached inside his backpack. He slid out a pair of Elan Ibex Tactix folding skis, and collapsible poles. Working quickly, he rotated the carbon blades until they snapped into place, then fitted them to his boots. He telescoped out the ski poles, and clambered b
ack onto his feet.
The roar of the helicopter's spinning blades increased in volume… it was approaching his position. Caine looked for the armed men who had rappelled to the surface. He saw no sign of them, but there was no doubt they were closing in.
Caine pushed on his poles and kicked his skis, gathering speed as he headed down the trail. He followed Argyle’s tracks as they disappeared down the steep mountainside. She had escaped down the opposite side of the trail he had taken to reach her. If he could catch up, he might still convince her to turn herself in. But first he had to escape the helicopter and its soldiers.
Gunfire chattered around Caine. Snow exploded from the compacted drifts.
He pushed harder, increasing his speed, following the fresh ski tracks in the snow. His body curved into an athletic stance, with his knees and elbows slightly bent, and his body leaning forward into the wind. Soon he was parallel skiing, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he gathered speed. He must have been doing forty-miles-per-hour or more.
Caine stayed on Emily’s trail. He had no idea what lay ahead, but he knew he had to follow, or risk losing her. Sharp cliffs and rocky outcrops leered along either side of the trail. There was only one safe route down the slope, and it was growing steeper and steeper the longer he followed it. Yet he had to trust Emily had already scouted a safe path out of here. That was what he would have done.
When he reached a straight stretch, Caine took the opportunity to look behind.
The three soldiers were also skiing hard after him. They too had planned ahead, and they were gaining.
His fears realized, he squatted closer to the ground and leaned hard into the descent.
Fifty-miles-per-hour.
Suddenly the open stretch disappeared, and he plummeted through the air.
He hadn’t seen the cliff in time.
He was falling.
Caine held his breath and tensed, until he realized that was the wrong approach. He had followed Argyle’s tracks and she had skied off the same point. There was a snowfield below him. He relaxed his knees, letting his legs absorb the impact as he hit a steep slope ten yards below. He crashed into a snowdrift, barely managing to retain control as he again picked up her trail.
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