by KaLyn Cooper
Lady Eagle jumped in. “Black Swan team two, are you being pursued? Can you identify?”
“Black Swan team one, this is a practice exercise for what we might encounter during the next mission.”
“Understood, Black Swan team two.” Lady Hawk asked, “ETA?”
“Black Swan team one, ETA is ninety seconds. We are at sixteen thousand feet and descending fast.”
Lady Hawk touched the screen, and lights instantly lined the runway. “They have to be flying a fixed wing. We’d hear them if it were a helicopter.” She stared down at the tablet in her hand. “Lei Lu, we might need to recalibrate this—”
A loud hum filled the air cutting off her words.
All five women looked up as they felt the distinct downdraft of a descending helicopter.
The light whir of rotating blades replaced the familiar whump, whump, whump as the wheels of a huge black helicopter touched down.
They had never seen it coming.
“Holy fuck.” Lady Falcon’s voice was only audible through Nita’s earbud.
The machine in front of them was the size of a Sikorsky Black Hawk, but much quieter than the stealth helicopter, and breathtaking. The flat black exterior seemed to accent the angular lines. Aerodynamically, the chopper would cut through the air rather than pushing it aside like an airplane. As the nearly silent engines shut down, the two blades, one stacked on top of the other, stopped almost immediately rather than glide slower with each rotation.
“Well, that’s new.” Nita said what everyone was thinking. She turned to Lady Hawk. “Do you think they’ll let me fly it?”
“Right after me.” Her team leader watched the pilot’s door with her hands on her hips.
The side door slid open soundlessly and three people jumped out, completely clad head to toe in black. Only the Ladies of Black Swan wore completely black flight suits.
The pilot and copilot emerged from the front doors, dressed the same as the others. As they stood nearly blending in with the helicopter, it became obvious they were women.
They looked fucking formidable. A chill went through Nita. For the first time she realized how she and her teammates must look as they descend the steps of their jet. A pang of resentment flowed through her. Goddamn it, she and her team were the Ladies of Black Swan, not these imposters.
The new arrivals all looked toward the woman who had crawled out of the pilot seat. If Nita hadn’t been looking right at her, she would’ve missed the slight nod. The one who seemed to be in charge lifted the flight helmet off her head and tucked it under her left arm. She smiled and walked toward Nita and her team.
All five had their hair pulled back into a bun at the base of their skull, military regulation style. They all wore nervous smiles.
Her team leader stepped forward, hand extended. “Lieutenant Commander Katlin Callahan, code name Lady Hawk.”
The dark-haired woman seemingly in charge thrust her hand forward. “I’m Kayla Scarlatto, team leader. You’re real.” She laughed lightly. “What I mean is…” She seemed to search for the right words. “All during our training, we heard rumors about the Ladies of Black Swan, but no one thought you were real…well, until we were assigned this mission and designated Black Swan team two.”
“Yeah, we’re fucking real.” Nita looked past the new arrivals at the amazing helicopter. “Who do I have to blow so I can fly that black baby?”
“Exchanging sex for favors is highly discouraged, Lieutenant Banks.” General Lyon’s voice came through her comm unit very clearly.
Oh, shit. Nita closed her eyes. She’d forgotten they were still live with the ops center. She chastised herself for speaking without thinking, once again. She had an extremely bad habit of saying exactly what was on her mind, completely unfiltered. She needed to work on that. And her swearing. Someday.
“Sir, I didn’t mean it literally. It’s just a phrase.” She tried to recoup some sense of dignity. “I would never—”
“Lady Harrier,” the general interrupted. “I know you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t work for me if you did. Moving on, Ladies of Black Swan, all of you, Lady Hawk is mission commander. Get that helicopter inside and those hangar doors closed. Reset the guards around the runway, then I want you ladies to get some sleep. We’ll videoconference in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” ten female voices answered.
Chapter 4
Daniel sat in the backseat of a 1960s Dodge. By American standards the car would be an antique, but in Nicaragua, it was transportation. With the tip of the barrel sticking out the side window, he rested his hand at the ready on a brand-new M4 rifle. It had the sweetest scope Daniel had ever used, offering both night vision and infrared with the click of a switch.
Deliveries had rolled through camp for days making Cris giddy with his newfound power and money. He had become the hero of the upcoming coup, and Daniel had become indispensable.
Although he had held a high rank within the group from the day he walked into camp and decimated Cris’s personal guards, Daniel was surprised that he’d been kept in the dark about the details of exactly how the military was going to take over the Nicaraguan government. But as a good soldier, he did what he was ordered to do.
That night, he was to accompany Cris, Emilio Bautista, and Hugo Vargas into Managua, the largest city in the country. The nation’s capital held just over a million people. Like most modern cities, it ran the gambit from expensive international hotels with hundreds of rooms and five-star cuisine, to room rentals for a few dollars a day. Foreigners enjoyed a few high-end, all-inclusive resorts next to the smaller of Nicaragua’s two main lakes, Lago Xolotlan.
Daniel didn’t think he’d be enjoying any of those comforts that night. Riding through the nearly empty streets at two thirty in the morning, he figured they were on a reconnaissance run. Maybe that meant the coup would take place soon. He should report the information to the operations center in Langley. This might be the perfect opportunity to use the new satellite phone Uncle Tom had hidden in one of the most recent shipments. It was a heavy sucker which probably reached some new satellite array and kept all the information even more secret.
He was surprised when Emilio pulled over to the curb and parked two blocks from the presidential residence. They sat in silence while Cris checked his phone several times before he said, “Roll the windows up, but leave them cracked one inch.” He smiled. “The United States government seems to be missing more than guns and grenades lately.” His laugh was loud and boisterous as he slapped Daniel on the shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re on our side.”
Keeping with his cover, Daniel replied, “It pays to have low friends in high places. I’m just glad my contact wanted to dump all those weapons fast and dirty.” While he had Cris talking to him, Daniel decided to take a chance and ask, “So what’s all this for? Are we here to watch a bombing?”
“Oh, Daniel, my friend, you think too small.” He pulled a metal briefcase into his lap and entered the combination. He lifted the lid and revealed a sophisticated computer. “See these little red dots? They are military blockades. The city is virtually surrounded. No one gets in. No one gets out.”
Holy fuck. It’s happening. Right now. Daniel wished he had a way to contact someone back at the CIA, but sitting in a car next to Cristobal, there was no way in hell he could whip out his phone and call or text. He’d have to wait.
Cris pulled the top down slightly, covering his hands as he typed. When the computer pinged, the anticipation in the leader’s face stirred with excitement.
“And so it begins.” Cris reached into the large duffel bag at his feet and pulled out heavy duty sound suppressors like the kind used on a shooting range. He passed them out to every man in the car. Reaching back in the bag, he pulled out small boxes. “Take one.”
Daniel lifted the surprisingly heavy box from Cris’s hand and carefully tipped open the lid to find a small communication system including an earbud and wire microphone. In the covert world, there w
as high tech, then there was bleeding edge. These small devices were definitely the latter. When he reached in to pull it out, Cris put a hand on his arm.
“Not yet.” All eyes were riveted on their leader. “Keep them safe in these boxes until I tell you.”
The computer dinged several times. As Cris read each message, his smile grew broader. “General Cortez’s men have just secured the airport,” he announced with glee. “The railways and television station are now under our control.”
Daniel didn’t miss the inclusive word our. Obviously, their leader had become part of the inner circle for the coup. That meant he’d done his job well.
Three rapid dings preceded their next instructions. “Get those sound suppressors on now.” Cris began counting down from thirty.
Daniel set the heavy box containing the comm unit on his crotch. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but hopefully the metal would protect his junk as well as the sensitive equipment inside.
He scanned the sky out the side window and listened for approaching jets. He heard nothing but the occasional car and the constant white noise caused by everything from buzzing overhead streetlights to air-conditioning units in the apartments above the shops…city sounds quieted only by the late hour.
Daniel’s stomach muscles tightened with every decreasing number.
“Three…two…one.”
Nothing.
Nothing happened. Daniel’s brain automatically started counting. T minus one…
Only empty night sky filled his vision.
T minus two…T minus—
He never made it to three.
He’d been expecting the whistle of a large bomb descending to earth faster than the speed of sound, the shake of its impact followed by the concussion of the explosion. He was prepared for that after being in several war zones.
He wasn’t ready for the midair, small burst of blinding light that seemed to generate from a hundred feet above the presidential residence. It looked as though a helicopter had been shot down by a rocket propelled grenade, but he’d heard no familiar whump, whump of rotor blades, and he’d been listening hard.
The explosion wasn’t anywhere near as big as he’d expected, but the impact pushed down on his whole body, even through the old car which probably had twice as much steel as last year’s model. It was as though a giant hand pressed his head into his shoulders and his ass into the seat cushions, compressing the air within his body, rather than throwing him back away from the epicenter.
Daniel looked down at his kinetic watch to note the exact moment of impact. The time was 4:49 a.m.
As soon as the blast wave passed, he forced air into his lungs. Needing the brain power, he hyperoxygenated by taking fast deep breaths.
He scanned the sky for falling debris and a fireball as he sent up a quick prayer for the souls lost aboard the helicopter which had to have been hit by an RPG. Staring at the general area of the first explosion, he waited for the gas tanks to detonate.
Nothing.
There was absolutely nothing in the sky.
Daniel took in his surroundings, shocked at how quiet the world seemed. He wondered if the impact had damaged his hearing so he removed the sound suppressors.
No. He wasn’t wrong. There was no sound whatsoever.
The opening of the metal briefcase seemed deafening, and Cris’s typing was as loud as a snare drum next to his ear.
Not a glimmer could be seen outside the car. The only light came from the screen in his leader’s lap. Daniel stared overhead and suddenly the night sky seemed filled with stars. He remembered lying on his back in the boat on Smith Mountain Lake while night fishing with Gramps and attempting to count all the stars. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been to the family home on the Virginia lake. He wondered if Katlin had been there recently or, if like him, she’d been too busy to bother with a vacation.
Staring out the window in a car filled shoulder-to-shoulder with men and the smell of adrenalin mixed with stale cigarettes, Daniel promised himself if he ever got out of this alive, he’d take everyone he loved to the lake for some well-deserved R and R…and fun.
“Sound suppressors off.” Cris’s order brought him back to the present. “Comm units in your ears.”
“Where are we headed?” Daniel pulled out his gun.
“My new office.” Cris chuckled. “Third floor of the building next to the presidential residence.” He looked over his shoulder at Daniel who was in charge of his personal protection crew. “Clear the building. Make sure there is no one inside.”
Daniel nodded. He could do that. No problem. The building had been dark the entire time they’d sat waiting.
“Let’s go,” Cris commanded.
“Yes, sir,” three male voices chorused as each readied his weapon, opened the door, and stepped out into pure darkness. In night camouflage, matte helmets, and shades of black face paint, the men disappeared as though absorbed in a pool of midnight paint.
Thank God for night vision goggles. Daniel took lead. With bent knees, M4 tucked into his shoulder, he crept through the darkest part of the night to the side door of the building. Without the electronic locks, it easily opened. He signaled the men to split up and start with the lowest floor clearing room by room while he and Cris headed up the stairs.
The guerilla group leader seemed to know exactly where he was going. He turned left after entering the floor and walked straight to the large double doors at the end of the hall. Looking at the key card pad, Cris laughed, and pushed the door open. Making himself at home behind the enormous Brazilian mahogany desk, he opened the briefcase once again and began to type.
Daniel checked every room connected to the large office, and carefully peered through the drawn blinds. Even the birds in the trees were sleeping. Nicaragua would wake up in a few hours to a whole new government, one more friendly to the United States.
“I’m going to clear the rest of this floor,” Daniel announced.
Cris’s grunt was his only acknowledgement.
As he started down the long, wide hall, he opened every door, ready to shoot. Finally, his men verified they hadn’t found anyone. The building was empty, as expected.
A vibration on Daniel’s thigh reminded him about the CIA cell phone.
He slid into the next room, assuring it was empty before he flipped the phone open to read the text.
Help evacuate Americans on sublevel two of the Presidential Residence.
A schematic popped up showing a tunnel on sub level one connecting the two buildings so he wouldn’t have to go outside and chance being caught by the men handling the removal of the president.
Several dots moved around on the screen, but Daniel didn’t know if those were good guys or bad guys. He’d just stay away from all of them. “Men,” he instructed through his comm unit, “protect Cris at all costs. I’m going to check out some suspicious activity outside. Stay away from all the windows so you don’t guide the tangoes straight to Cris.”
“Roger that,” the three others replied.
He quietly slipped through the halls and tunnel to the building next door and down to sublevel two. As soon as he opened the door, the smell of hospital overwhelmed him. The walls and floors gleamed with cleanliness. The scent of chlorine bleach assaulted his nose.
The device in his hand showed five people in a room a hundred feet ahead on the left. He flipped his NVGs to infrared mode and confirmed no other heat signatures in the area.
Without electricity, the palm scanner next to the door to the dark room wasn’t going to stop anyone. Daniel confidently yanked on the door.
It didn’t budge. Maybe there was a manual release somewhere. He flipped up his NVGs and clicked on his flashlight. Blinding light flooded the hall. Scanning for a mechanical override, his gaze stopped at the big red words. Containment Area. Quarantine. Bio Hazard.
Oh fuck!
Above the door, in even bigger red letters, was a sign declaring Clean Room.
Gla
ncing back at the special phone, he saw that four of the people had grouped together at the back of the room and one was at the window to his right.
Jerking his light to the glass, all he saw at first glance was a white space suit and glare off the curved face shield. Moving closer, he looked into the face of an angel.
His angel. The cherubic round face with hazel eyes he’d seen in his dreams. The soft full lips he’d kissed, just once, but had fantasized wrapped around his stiff, pulsing cock as she sucked hard. The face he’d seen with his eyes closed as he jerked off just last night.
The woman he could never have, stared daggers back at him.
He saw his reflection in the glass and even he didn’t recognize himself with the grease paint in full black ops gear.
Nita Banks never blinked as she raised her hand and pointed a gun at his chest.
Chapter 5
Well fuck! That’s all we need.
Lady Harrier stared at the man dressed for black ops and wondered what the hell he wanted with the scientists. His uniform was a far cry from the jungle cammies worn by the presidential guards who made regular passes every twelve minutes. She’d entered the clean room between rounds and had planned to extricate everyone the same way.
She’d wondered if her team had turned the lights out, although it hadn’t been part of the plan. Maybe the coup had started. If so, they really needed to get the hell out of there. They were at ground zero for bad shit to happen.
And to complicate things even further, her comm unit connecting her with both Black Swan teams had decided to die, and her cell phone didn’t work in the basement. Trained to operate independently, she wasn’t worried. She could complete her mission. Matter of fact, the power outage could make her job even easier.
Then this Rambo-wannabe showed up.
She’d left the researchers with her heavy-duty flashlight to finish packing the crates and watched the intruder from the back of the lab. When he’d tried to break in, she decided to put a stop to his exploration, and possibly him.
