Taking Fire

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Your gal is very secretive,” Addy muttered. Her blond brows dipped as she thought about it. “Okay, let’s go another direction. She wore a hog’s tooth. Only snipers who actually graduate from marine sniper school are given one.” She brought up the names of Marine Corps sniper graduates for the past ten years. Gaze moving slowly down the list, she said, “Hmm, here’s a Shinwari, K. Listed here as having graduated seven years ago.” She tapped the screen. Turning to Mike, she said, “You did say she referred to the villages of that area as ‘her people,’ right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well,” Addy said, thinking about it, “the Shinwari tribe is four hundred thousand strong. And Afghan names are not like English names. They would all use ‘Shinwari’ as their last name because it denotes their tribe.”

  Excitement thrummed through Tarik as he stared at the entry on the computer. “Maybe that’s her? And her first name is a K, not a C. Her first name has to be Afghan, then, not an American name.”

  “Let me see if this will let me find out more. There’s an asterisk by her name, and I don’t know what that means.” She clicked on the name.

  “Damn,” Mike growled. The box “Access Denied” came up. Again. Frustration ate at him like acid.

  “Yeah, she’s really protected.” Addy twisted her lips in thought. “Okay, we think we have the correct name on this operator. We have Marine Force Recon snipers all over Afghanistan. They’re small in number, like our SEAL snipers, out there operating alone for weeks or months at a time, tagging the bad guys and usually going after high value targets.” She tapped her chin. “Let’s see if they’ll let me into the whereabouts of marine snipers along the border.”

  Mike saw a map pop up, the same one Mac had accessed earlier. This time, the intel officer typed in Shinwari, K. The box “Access Denied” appeared.

  Mouth thinning, Mike stared at the screen.

  “You said she was a medic of some sort?” Addy asked.

  “Yes, she is. She said she was a paramedic. But it could be a lie to throw me off her trail, too.”

  “Maybe an Army 18 Delta combat corpsman,” she said, “but I’m not aware they’re allowing women to take that eighteen-month course.” She went to the army website and to the 18 Delta area. Typing in the name, nothing came up. Dead end. “Okay, let’s take another angle on this, Tarik. You said you saw scars on her back, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old do you think they were?”

  He shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. The scars are white, not pink. Pink would denote they happened in the past year or so.”

  “Okay, so let’s play ‘what if,’ here. What if she was here in Afghanistan? A covert asset? Posing as someone else? She got caught by the bad guys? Tortured? And she survived it. But if that was so, she’d have been taken here, to Bagram hospital for treatment. Right? Or, if bad enough, sent to Landstuhl Medical Center in Germany.”

  Mike shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. She could have been whipped because the scars were long and deep across her back.” He didn’t tell the intel officer he’d seen Khat naked. He wanted to protect her, not expose her to the world in that way. Or maybe he was just plain damned protective of her.

  “Okay, off to Bagram’s database on patients.” She typed in the name. Her brows lifted. “Ah, a hit!” She traced her finger across the screen.

  Mike leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. There, five years ago, was a Shinwari, K., admitted to the hospital.

  “Let’s pull up her medical record.”

  He cursed softly. The box “Access Denied” glared back at them.

  “She is deeper than deep,” Sinclaire muttered, frowning and studying the screen.

  Mike twisted a look up at the officer. “What does that mean to you, then?”

  “That she’s working a special black ops. Probably straight out of the E ring of the Pentagon. She’s a ‘need to know basis’ only. In other words, Tarik, if you didn’t directly work with her, you’d never know she existed.” She shrugged. “You just got lucky and intersected with her. Right time, right place. But you’re like two ships passing in the night, and one doesn’t overlap with the other insofar as information goes.” She tapped the screen. “They’re really protecting her.”

  Rubbing his chin, he muttered, “Okay, so let’s take it another direction. On the second night when she rode in, she had a packhorse with medical supplies. I saw them, and they’re all from the US. She was dressed in male Afghan clothes. She was wearing a blue-and-white-checked shemagh around her neck and shoulders. She’d gone somewhere. Where? And I know she’s a medic of some sort. If she’s got supplies with her, then she’s got to be going into a village. Giving people medical aid, maybe?”

  “Yup, good lead. That blue-and-white shemagh she was wearing is indicative of the Shinwari tribe. Every tribe has different colors. Maybe she’s connected with an NGO? Nongovernmental organization? A charity that’s working here in this country?” Addison brought up the list of NGOs and then typed the name into the database of people associated with each charity.

  “Zip,” Mike muttered.

  “Yep. But we’re not done. If she’s giving medical aid to Shinwari villages, then there has to be a record of it somewhere. She’s using US supplies, and those are tracked. You said she gave you morphine, right? For your broken arm?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Dipping her head, Addy said, “Well, morphine is the most carefully tracked drug in our medical supply. Not just anyone can have it. Let me prowl for a second here…”

  Mike watched her fingers flying over the keyboard. Different web pages whipped by. He was grateful that Sinclaire knew her business. Sooner or later, something would be revealed.

  “Aha!” Addy crowed, grinning. “Got her!”

  Mike looked at where she was pointing.

  “This is a list of morphine distribution for this year to Afghanistan through the navy supply depot here at Bagram. There’s her name, Shinwari, K., and there’s what she is. A paramedic. So, she didn’t lie to you. Hold on, let me see how this morphine is being distributed.”

  Mike’s heart started to beat harder as he waited.

  “Okay,” Addy said, scowling at the screen, “the morphine goes from Bagram to J-bad. It’s the northern SEAL HQ in the country. Smaller than us, but important. Let’s see who this morphine is going to.”

  The name “Hutton, J., CDR” came up.

  “I know Hutton,” Mike said. He didn’t like the man, but didn’t say anything.

  “Hmm. Commander Hutton handles deep black ops over there.” She said, “I can make a call and see what I can get.”

  Grateful, Mike said, “I’d appreciate it. This woman saved four SEAL lives. She deserves to be put up for a medal.”

  “Yep, I get where you’re coming from.” She picked up her phone and made the call.

  Tarik sat back. He liked Sinclaire’s can-do spirit. She was like a dog on a hunt. He listened as she spoke to Hutton. And it was clear she was getting stonewalled. She tried asking all types of different questions, giving him her intel she’d accessed on Khat already. When she hung up, she grimaced.

  “Well, he was none too pleased I was snooping around,” she muttered. “She’s deep black ops. Off-limits to us. And he about shit when I mentioned Archangel. He wanted to know how we knew that code name. You heard the conversation.”

  “Yeah,” Mike said glumly, sitting back in the chair, thinking. “She’s got to have a very unique job assignment, then. Something more than just being a marine sniper out in the mountains shooting HVTs.”

  “Yes.” Addy pushed some blond tendrils away from her cheek. “Maybe you need to go at this in a different direction.”

  “Oh?”

  “Look, there’s SEALs in all these villages along the border off and on. They know the elders of these villages. Maybe you should go out and talk to the operators out of Charlie platoon based here at Bagram. Ask if they’ve met a red-haired, green-eyed woman who is
a nurse. Or a paramedic. Giving medical aid in a village. Too bad we don’t have a photo of her.”

  “Well,” Tarik muttered, “there aren’t that many women rendering medical aid out in those villages because it’s too damned dangerous. And all I can think is she would be aligned with an NGO. They go into a village, protected by the military, by SEALs. They protect the NGO people while they do their thing.”

  Addison grinned, her voice becoming excited. “Right! And so if some of the SEALs pulled for a detail like that, they might have seen her.”

  “She’s damned easy to spot,” Mike said, “she’s almost six feet tall.” And she was beautiful. No, a SEAL who had seen her would damn well remember her.

  “Right. Look, you nose around on this angle, okay? In the meantime, I don’t like being stonewalled. I love a challenge like this. I know where to reach you at Camp Bravo, and Mac is a sweetie. I can give him a call if I find anything, and he can let you know. Okay?”

  Good intel officers were worth their weight in gold. Mike rose and shook her hand. “Thank you, ma’am, for all your help. This is important to me.”

  “I know it is. But also, don’t forget, if she’s deep black ops, she’s writing up reports and sending them in, too. Someone is receiving her reports, more than likely, Commander Hutton. And then, he’s probably sending them to the E ring of the Pentagon, where this operation or mission was created.” She rubbed her hands together, grinning up at him. “I’ll keep looking for you.”

  Tarik spent the rest of the day talking with the SEALs of Charlie Platoon who were assigned to Bagram. None of them could remember Khat. All of them agreed her red hair, green eyes and height was something that would stick in their minds.

  As he left for the barracks across the base, Mike felt hopeful. At least he had some info on Khat. And he was missing her. The huge army base was a beehive of 24/7 activity. It held twenty thousand military and civilian people. But the only person he cared about, his priority, was Khat.

  As he took a base bus to his barracks, he had time to think. What bothered him the most was the haunted look deep in her eyes when he told her he was going to find her. She’d been admitted to Bagram hospital five years ago, so something had happened to her when she was undercover. Maybe that was the terror he’d seen in the recesses of her eyes? He recalled their conversations, her shyness toward him.

  Then again, what if the name Lieutenant Sinclaire had found was not her? Was he barking up the wrong tree? Dammit, he wished he had a photo ID on her. It would then verify K. Shinwari was Khat. He hoped against hope that Sinclaire, who was passionate about her job, could uncover a photo.

  His mind clicked over so many possibilities. If he went to the Bagram hospital and asked about K. Shinwari, he’d be blocked. If he wasn’t family, he had no business having access to her records. If he went over to the Marine Force Recon HQ here at the base, they’d tell him to fuck off. They’d see him as a navy SEAL making inquiries. Yes, he had top secret clearance and so did the Force Recons. But that didn’t mean they were going to give him anything. She was a marine sniper, and they were aggressively protective about their fellow—or sister—snipers. He would be laughed out of the office.

  When he got to his barracks where he was TDY, temporary duty, he’d make a call to his best friend and fellow SEAL, Chief Gabe Griffin. Mike checked the time on his watch and made mental calculations as to the time in West Virginia, where Gabe lived with his wife, Bay. A warmth flooded his chest. Mike had gone to visit them last year, and Bay was very pregnant with twins. He had been shocked when Gabe told him they were going to name the boy after him: Michael.

  Staggered by the gesture, Mike was touched beyond words. Bay was a wonderfully warm person, originally an 18 Delta corpsman. The first woman to be allowed in, and she passed the course. He scowled, remembering some of the conversation he and Gabe had had on the porch during that visit. Bay had been part of some deep black ops, too. Rubbing his brow, he tried to remember the name…Shadow Warriors? Was Khat a part of it? Cursing softly, Tarik felt like he had a hold of an octopus with thirty arms, trying to wrestle it to the ground in order to get answers.

  The bus dropped him off at the huge three-story men’s enlisted barracks. It was 1400, and he needed to eat. There was a chow hall nearby, and he headed for it. As a SEAL operator, he was in his normal uniform and always carried his M-4 with him, his pistol in a drop holster on his right thigh and a SOF SEAL knife in a sheath on his lower left calf. Settling the black baseball cap with the SEAL insignia on it, he watched people move aside on the sidewalk. SEALs had a special aura, and people gave him furtive looks, curious but wary. He’d grown used to this over the years. His mind and heart were centered on Khat. His hopes rose thinking about calling Gabe. Maybe he could give him a lead. Maybe…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BAY GRIFFIN ANSWERED Mike’s phone call, much to his surprise.

  “Bay, this is Mike Tarik. How are you?”

  “Mike!” she cried, “it’s so good to hear from you!”

  Mike waited patiently, finding out Gabe was at his woodworking store in town. He also had a part-time job as a security consultant to Special Operations Command, the heart of black ops for the US military. He heard about the fraternal twins, Michael and Dawn, and at one year old, they were healthy and walking, driving her and Gabe crazy in a good kind of way. He smiled, hearing the happiness in her voice.

  “Listen, I’m glad you answered the phone,” he said heavily, and he launched into a quick explanation of what had happened and what, if anything, she could provide to him in the way of information. When he got done, there was silence on the other end. Finally, Bay spoke.

  “And you need this why, Mike?”

  His mouth quirked. “Because she saved our lives.”

  Bay snorted. “What is it about you SEALs?” she demanded, laughing. “That’s not an entirely honest answer, Mike, and I’ll tell you why. Every time you mentioned Khat’s name, your tone went softer. In my world that means you like her. Or, maybe love her? And that’s why you’re wanting to contact her?”

  Squirming, Mike knew from meeting Bay that she had a depth and ability to look straight through a person and know what was in their heart whether they wanted to admit it or not. “Yeah, okay, it wasn’t a total fabrication, Bay. Khat did save our lives. But—” he drew in a deep breath and released it “—I like her a lot. She’s out there all alone. And I worry about her.”

  “That’s more than like, then, Mike.”

  Pushing his fingers through his hair, he growled, “Gabe must have one hell of a time trying to hide your birthday or Christmas gift from you.”

  Chuckling, Bay said, “He’s not the fibbing type, although,” she drawled, “he sometimes hedges, and I do catch him. And I’m very good at finding out what gift he bought for me.”

  “Look, I can’t sit and tell you I love her. I was with her only two days. That’s not enough time.”

  “You’re right. It isn’t. I’m sensing a serious connection between you.”

  “You know what?” he said, exasperated. “You should have become a navy intelligence officer. You truly missed your calling, Bay.”

  She laughed heartily. “Okay, you’re worried about her being out there all alone? That she needs some backup or protection?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can make a phone call to someone in the know. I can’t tell you anything more than that, Mike. You said her handler is Commander Hutton in J-bad, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’m writing all of this down. Because the person I have to contact doesn’t want to know you’re invested in her. What this individual will consider is her being in danger or possibly needing help or backup. I can’t promise you anything, Mike. This person is in charge of this operation. All I can do is give her the info.”

  “You were a part of that operation, right?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Shadow Warriors, by any chance?” Mike heard silence at the othe
r end. Bingo. Bay had been a part of it even though she’d deny it.

  “Mike, I can’t go there. You know that,” she said, her tone somber.

  “That’s all right, I got it. You were and so is Khat. Your secret’s safe with me. I just want to help her…or…hell, protect her, I guess,” he muttered in frustration.

  “SEALs are very good at protecting the people they love,” Bay agreed, her voice low with emotion. “Gabe saved me.”

  “I know,” he rasped. Bay had been captured by Mustafa Khogani, raped and nearly choked to death by the Hill tribe leader. She’d managed to escape, and if it hadn’t been for his best friend, Gabe, who was a sniper, being nearby, Bay would have been tracked down by the furious Hill leader and killed.

  “Well,” Bay murmured, her voice lighter, “when you use the word protect, I think there’s a serious, deep connection between the two of you. If you don’t want to call it love, that’s okay. I’ll make the call. I have no idea when I’ll be able to call you back.”

  “I’m grateful you’d do it, Bay. Be sure to tell Gabe hello from me. And tell him I’ll get better about emailing him more often rather than less.” He grinned.

  “That will make my ex-SEAL husband very happy. He might be out of the teams, but all his friends are still in, and he worries about you guys.”

  *

  “HEY, MIKE,” MAC CALLED as he walked past his office door three weeks later. “Got a minute?”

  Tarik was glad to have any interruption. The doctors at Bagram had taken an MRI of his broken left arm. They were impressed with Khat’s setting of his bones. But the break was severe, and they insisted he had to stand down eight weeks, two months, and that about killed him. He was planning on four weeks and then pleading with Mac to let him start running patrols with his team at that time. As it played out, Mike was now Mac’s gopher, and he was up to his ass in mission planning. He was sitting in an office, dying for sunlight, fresh air and exercise.