Trackers (Book 1)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Lee has given us a rundown of the defenses. He numbers hostiles at least two dozen soldiers armed with RPGs, .50 cals, and whatever else they’ve been able to get their hands on. We’ll take out the guard towers first with the M240 to clear a path. Then we split up and head in.”

  Black pointed at Raven. “Staff Sergeants Spears and Franks, you’re with me on Alpha Team. Lee will guide us. Everyone else, you’re on Bravo Team with Staff Sergeant Nixon as lead.”

  A few seats down, Nixon acknowledged the order with a nod of his large head. He looked ready to crush some North Korean skulls in his massive hands. Raven caught Billy’s nervous gaze and tried to give him a reassuring smile. The kid had been on plenty of missions with the Predators, but nothing like this. Hell, none of them had ever done something this crazy.

  Maybe I shoulda stayed on the Rez, Raven thought. At least back on the Rosebud Reservation, the biggest threat had been whatever damn fool his sister was dating.

  “We don’t believe the North Koreans know who Lima 1 is yet, otherwise they would have already moved the girls to a more secure facility. We’ve only got one shot at this. If we fail, these young women will be dead or locked up in some Pyongyang rat hole, which could escalate this situation into an all-out shit storm. President Drake wants this done ASAP, which means speed is more important than stealth. Understood?”

  Mr. Lee, who had not yet said a word during the briefing, ran a finger across his throat as Black looked at his men individually.

  “They kill us all if we get caught,” Lee said in halting English.

  “Our Korean friend is right,” Black said. “He’ll lead us inside. The plan is to get the girls and get out as quickly as possible. Bravo team has the C4, and Nixon will be responsible for planting it.”

  “They have my brother,” Lee said. “Put him in prison when I leave. We will get him and American girls.”

  Command must have promised the former prison guard that they’d rescue his brother. Raven didn’t have the heart to tell him that his brother was at the bottom of their to-do list.

  “Gunny,” Franks said, “just curious, but what happens when the Supreme Leader finds out the US was responsible for this raid?”

  Black knitted his brows and very firmly said, “He won’t. ‘Cause there won’t be any evidence.”

  Staff Sergeant Nixon nodded at that and patted the satchel holding the plastic explosives.

  “Prepare for radio silence,” said one of the pilots over the comms. “We’re approaching the demilitarized zone.”

  “Any questions?” Black asked.

  Franks raised a hand tentatively, but he lowered it when Black looked away.

  “That was one of those rhetorical-type questions,” Raven said with a chuckle. “Just stay close to me, rookie. I got your back.”

  Final gear and weapons checks sounded as the Crew Chief, a corporal named Hendrickson, worked his way to the door. The dim light in the cargo bay was switched off, shrouding the team in complete darkness.

  Raven listened to the rush of wind and low whoosh of rotors, waiting to flip his optics into position. In the pitch black of the early morning, he could only see outlines of the rolling mountains in the distance. There was a single light somewhere to the west. He had seen satellites images of the Korean Peninsula at night, and the whole country was almost completely dark north of the DMZ. It didn’t look much different as he gazed out from the Black Hawk.

  He flipped his optics into position as Corporal Hendrickson grabbed the M240. A green-hued view of the North Korean countryside stretched across Raven’s field of vision. In the distance, nestled at the base of the mountains, was their target. Four guard towers flanked the trio of buildings, and a skirt of barbed wire fences surrounded the prison. For a North Korean facility, it was on the small side. Raven hoped that meant fewer armed guards.

  The pilots dipped lower on approach, the rush of cold wind filling the belly of the Black Hawk. Raven had enough experience under his belt to know this mission was risky in the worst way. They didn’t have backup just blocks away like he’d had in Fallujah or Baghdad. It was just the Predators against a small army of North Koreans that could call in MiG fighter jets at any moment.

  Raven desperately wanted a cigarette to calm his nerves. Fortunately he didn’t have much longer to contemplate the odds they were facing. The pilots began their approach, and Hendrickson angled the M240 toward the buildings.

  Black gave the order with a quick flash of his hand, and the chief opened fire on the first guard tower. The bark of the 7.62mm rounds reverberated through the troop hold. Tracer rounds lanced into the cinder blocks as the pilots circled. An explosion burst from the tower, blowing it to rubble, and the chief quickly roved the big gun toward the next tower.

  The next North Korean guard got off a single shot before the 7.62mm rounds punched through his body. He tumbled over the side and plummeted to the ground.

  “Clear!” the chief said.

  Within seconds, the pilots were lowering the bird to the ground just inside the barbed wire fences. Even before Black signaled them, the Marines were lined up and ready to jump out. Raven scanned the terrain as he waited for his turn. The closest building was two stories of brick with multiple windows on the second floor. The other two structures were just single-story concrete blocks. About two hundred feet separated each building. Barrels, crates, and several vehicles provided blind spots for enemy contacts to hide behind. A single hostile came bursting out of the middle building, pulling his pants up as he stumbled out into the cold night.

  Staff Sergeant Nixon, the first Marine out of the troop hold, took a knee and fired a burst from his suppressed M4 directly into the surprised guard’s chest. The man slammed into the building, leaving a streak of blood as he slumped to the ground.

  “Get movin’, Spears!” Black said.

  Raven jumped out and focused on the structure where the girls were being held. The second his boots hit the dirt, he was running toward it at a hunch. Franks kept low to the left with Black and Lee following right behind them. To the right, the men of Bravo team fanned out. The Black Hawk rose back into the air, and Hendrickson opened up on the other two guard towers across the compound.

  Raven shouldered his M4 and flitted the muzzle over his fire zone. His view transformed into two-dimensional canvas as he moved. Scanning it systematically, he looked for hostiles. A North Korean flag whipped from a pole nearby. Raven moved to the next section of the grid. To his left were several trenches dug along the fence.

  “Contacts,” Franks said. Lee dropped to his belly as Black took a knee ahead of them and fired on two North Korean guards that had come running out of the front door of the first building. Both soldiers dropped, crying out as the lethal shots tore through their bodies.

  The crack of automatic gunfire sounded from the left. Raven hit the dirt as rounds split the air he had been occupying seconds before. A cool breeze that reeked of animal manure drifted over him in the respite. The moment of calm before the tempest was shattered by another flurry of gunfire that seemed to come from all directions.

  Raven crawled to a boulder for cover, more bullets forming a neat halo around his body. Somehow he made it to the rock without taking a round.

  The shots had come from the trenches. Stupid to look away before he cleared the area. That was the kind of mistake that would get him killed, and he was not going to be one of those ironic cautionary tales other Marines told each other.

  He could almost hear his squad telling the story to the guy who would take Raven’s place: Poor bastard was two weeks away from going home.

  He waited a few moments for the gunfire to stop. Behind him, most of Alpha and Bravo teams advanced toward the third building, while two Marines held security to fire at contacts outside. The Black Hawk was circling, Hendrickson training his M240 on enemy hostiles out of view from the ground. Across the compound, the other two guard towers were silent.

  Raven rolled away from the rock and propped his
rifle up with an arm, aiming in the direction of the shots. He flipped up his optics with his other hand to scan the area with naked eyes.

  Where the hell had the shooter disappeared to?

  Shots erupted from behind him, and the sound of suppressed fire answered.

  “Hostile down,” reported Black.

  The target Raven was tracking fired again, and a bullet kicked up the dirt to his side. He rolled to the left as more shots pecked at the ground.

  There was a brief reprieve, and Raven scanned the area where he had seen the muzzle flashes. He squeezed off a quick three-round burst, followed by another, trying to draw them out. Someone yelled in Korean, and another soldier replied with a shout.

  A beat later, an explosion bloomed from the trench, and a scream rang out. Raven flipped his optics back into position and covered his helmet as dirt rained down on him. When he looked up, Billy was running over to him. He knelt and put a hand on Raven’s back.

  “I just saved your ass, brother,” he panted, reaching under Raven’s arms to help him up. “Hope those Korean sons of bitches enjoyed the gift I sent them.”

  “Thanks,” Raven said, managing a nod. He looked over his friend’s shoulder at the two-story building when he saw a flicker of motion in a window on the second floor. Down below, a North Korean guard missing an arm crawled out, still screaming. While Raven was momentarily distracted, the window on the second floor shattered. Billy’s smirk was erased by a bullet through his chin. Hot blood splattered Raven’s face.

  More rounds rocked Billy’s body before he even hit the dirt. Raven felt one whizz by his helmet as he crawled back to the rock for cover.

  “Billy!” Raven shouted. He gritted his teeth, shock turning to anger. Grabbing his M4, he popped his helmet up to look for the bastard that had killed his friend. A muzzle flash came from the window, and a split-second later a round slammed into the rock, forcing Raven back down.

  “Spears, what the hell is happening back there?” Black said over the channel.

  “They got Billy and I’m pinned down! There’s a sniper at—”

  Another shot pushed him to the dirt. He lay on his back, staring up at the sky. Green tracers danced across the night as Raven waited for his opportunity. His no-good father hadn’t given him much, but the old man had taught Raven to push his emotions deep down, where the enemy couldn’t use them against him. He was calm now, patiently waiting for his moment to strike back.

  “I’m heading in,” Black said over the comms. He ordered Bravo to follow him into the building. The unspoken message was this: Raven and Billy were expendable. The mission was to extract two high-value targets; grunts like them were just collateral damage.

  Raven jumped to his feet and fired off several shots at the building. Then he sprinted toward a barrel for cover and a better vantage. He was fast, but not fast enough.

  The sniper popped back up at the window and fired a round that hit Raven in his chest, jerking him backward with such force that he crashed to the ground a few feet from the safety of the barrel. His rifle hit the dirt to his left.

  Despite the pain, he reached out, and then pulled his hand back as rounds slammed into the dirt. He abandoned the gun and crawled over to the barrel. There was no pain, and Raven didn’t feel any blood when he felt for the wound. His vest had taken the brunt of the impact, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air.

  Gasping, Raven looked back at Billy’s ruined body. A shot pinged off the top of the barrel as he pulled his M9. He took in a long breath, and then pushed himself up, squeezing off two shots at the North Korean sniper. There was a shout over the comms about an RPG, but Raven continued firing. He found his target on the fourth squeeze.

  Just as the sniper slumped out of the window, a projectile streaked overhead and slammed into the building. The shockwave from the blast hit Raven like a tsunami, lifting him off his feet. He landed hard, the little air remaining in his lungs pushed out from the sucker punch of the blast.

  Pain rushed through his body and stars burst before his vision. He could feel the rush of blood singing in his ears. Everything hurt. Even his eyeballs seemed to be on fire.

  His vision faded, red rolling in like a bloody tide.

  Voices called out in the distance.

  “Spears! Where the hell are you, Spears?”

  Head pounding, Raven tried to blink away the pain. A tremor rumbled under his body, another explosion rocking the prison compound. He managed to bring his pistol up as he squinted at several figures making their way toward him.

  He lowered the gun when he saw it was Sergeant Black and Staff Sergeant Nixon. The men were shielding two girls, both of them bruised, dirty, and wide-eyed with terror. Lima 1 stumbled and fell, and Nixon picked her up. He helped guide the girls to the Black Hawk that was hovering a few hundred feet away while Black remained behind. He pointed at Billy’s body and yelled orders to the other two members of Bravo team. The men rushed over to grab the corpse.

  A shout came across the prison yard. “Wait!” Lee shouted. “My brother!”

  He ran over and grabbed Black’s arm, tugging on it and trying to drag him back to the prison block. The Gunny pulled his M9 in a slow, mechanical motion, and calmly fired a bullet in Lee’s skull. The man fell to his knees and then slumped on his side like a pretzel.

  Raven sucked in another gasp of air as Black ran over to him, half expecting a bullet in his own skull next.

  “Why?” Raven gasped. “Why did you—”

  He flinched as Black reached down, but the big man was only trying to help Raven to his feet.

  “Why?” Raven repeated as he limped toward the bird with the Gunny’s assistance. Black raised his pistol and fired at a burning North Korean soldier who was running toward them. His flaming body hit the dirt, smoke rising into the night sky.

  “Orders, Spears,” Black growled. “Someone had to take the blame for this, and it couldn’t be Uncle Sam. We don’t want to start a war.”

  -1-

  18 Months Later

  Police Chief Marcus Colton knew the girl was probably dead.

  Standing at the trailhead to Mount Ypsilon and Lawn Lake, navy blue police coat zipped up to his chin, Colton took off his aviator sunglasses to scrutinize the Rocky Mountains. His instincts told him the girl he was looking for was somewhere out there, inside the vast sea of shifting green and brown subalpine forests. But the dull ache in his gut also told him she was no longer alive.

  Above the spruce-fir tree line, the peaks of Ypsilon, Fairchild, and the rest of the Mummy Range appeared to have been airbrushed with snow. A crimson sunset illuminated the interior of the gray clouds drifting over the jagged summits. If it weren’t for the motion of the clouds, he might have thought he was looking at a painting.

  It was a Friday in early September, but Rocky Mountain National Park was experiencing lower than normal temperatures. Colton had lived in the quaint tourist town of Estes Park, Colorado, his entire life. He was used to the cold, so when he shivered, he knew it wasn’t from the wind.

  Little Melissa Stone. The six-year-old daughter of his friend Rex Stone had been missing for three days now. Each second it became more likely that she was dead. Especially now, with the temperatures plummeting.

  Melissa had last been seen when the school bus dropped her off on Prospect Avenue. A half dozen of his officers and a pack of volunteers one hundred strong were combing the foothills around Prospect Mountain.

  Colton’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. It had been ringing all night. He was expecting to see a call from one of his officers or Mayor Andrews, but it was his wife, Kelly. She was waiting at home with their seven-year-old daughter, Risa. After taking in a breath tinged with the clean scent of cedar, Colton swiped the screen and brought it to his ear.

  “Hey, honey.”

  “I haven’t heard from you for hours,” Kelly said.

  “I’m at the Ypsilon trailhead waiting for Raven. Weather looks like it’s about to take a turn for the worse. How ar
e you? How is Risa?”

  “I’m fine. Risa is okay, but she keeps asking when you’re going to find Melissa. I’m about to put her to bed. We had some soup, and we miss you. When will you be home?”

  “It could be a while. Raven is an hour late.”

  There was a pause, and Colton knew what it meant. His wife was his best friend and biggest supporter. He could read her like a book after twenty years of marriage.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “Do you really trust Raven? I mean, you’ve arrested him twice.”

  “He’s just a troubled young man. You know he’s had a hard time since he got back from service overseas. That’s why I agreed to drop the DUI charge if he helped me find Sarah Kirkland earlier this year.”

  “But this isn’t just some case where a kid wandered off, is it?”

  Colton sighed. His wife was smart. Much smarter than him. “I’m afraid not. I got a tip that brought me up the mountain tonight, but that’s all I can say.”

  “People forget how dangerous it can be living out here.”

  “Ain’t that the truth? Just last week I got a call from the ranger station because a tourist was letting his toddler pet an elk. The guy thought it was some kind of horse.”

  “Idiot,” Kelly said.

  There was a brief silence, and in that moment he was back at home with his wife and daughter. But he was more than a loving husband and father; he was a soldier and a lawman. Someone had to be out here to protect the sheep from the wolves.

  “Raven’s the best tracker in these parts,” Colton said. “He found Sarah before it was too late. Hopefully he can help me find Melissa, too.”

  “He just better get his butt out there soon. I don’t want you on the mountain by yourself.”

  “I can take care of myself; you know that better than anyone. Now go give Risa a kiss for me. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”