by James Rosone
“So, the III Percent group didn’t detonate a car bomb at a polling station in a Democratic stronghold?”
Seth shook his head. “No, sir. They didn’t. Neither did Antifa, Black Lives Matter, the KKK or any other alt-right or alt-left group. It was all straight-up terrorist attacks, disguised to look like domestic turmoil.”
The ambassador brought his hand up to his mouth. He looked visibly shaken. “And Kosovo? What does Kosovo have to do with any of this?” he asked.
“It’s not just Kosovo, sir. It’s the entire region. We just happen to have a base we can operate out of here. The people who perpetrated this attack, a number of them are from Kosovo—one of them is from Macedonia, another from Serbia, another from Albania. But the kicker to all of this is that the bots and servers propagating the misinformation are almost exclusively coming from Kosovo and Macedonia. There are others in Eastern Europe and Russia, but those are being handled by another team.”
The color washed out of the ambassador’s face. “What are you guys here to do? What exactly is going to happen?”
“The President has authorized military action against those who perpetrated this attack, which will be made public information very soon. We’ll look to coordinate with the locals, but we’re moving unilaterally, if necessary, to go after the targets. We’ve got a solid bead on them right now, and we’re not going to let them get away,” Seth explained.
Seth watched the road signs go by in silence for a moment. The RSO was bringing them along Highway M9 toward the R7 interchange, just like he was supposed to. Seth turned his attention back to the ambassador. He could see the wheels turning in Ambassador Goodman’s mind—he was clearly searching to figure out where he fit into all this. Seth knew he needed to turn this guy into an ally, or he’d be an impediment to him getting anything done here.
“Sir, if I may, I could really use your help with the locals,” Seth explained. “I’m going to need some serious political cover that can only come from you. I’m also going to need to know if they can assign some of their best police or security people to us to help with locating our targets and assisting with the takedowns when the time comes.”
The ambassador just nodded. His demeanor started to change as he realized the opportunity Seth was giving him. “OK, Colonel. I can be the point man for all things political. Just let me know what you need, and I’ll do my best to make it happen. Do you want me to loop in the ambassador over in Macedonia?”
Seth shook his head. “Not yet. If you can, find out from headquarters how they want to loop in the other ambassadors. Chief Moore is going to get the other senior defense officers in the other countries brought up to speed on what’s going on. They’re all being told in no uncertain terms that they are not to interfere with our orders or operations. They’re in a support function for the time being.”
Before the ambassador could respond, what appeared to be a small beat-up vehicle parked on the side of the road exploded as soon as the lead vehicle carrying the Minister of Internal Affairs and the other Kosovar officers passed by it. Seth put his arm up to shield his eyes from the blaze of glory and suddenly realized that he was weightless. He forced his arm away and saw that the vehicle was rolling over sideways. The feeling of zero gravity quickly disappeared as he was slapped against the ambassador and then the door. The vehicle rolled two more times before coming to a stop upside down.
When their vehicle eventually came to a halt, Seth desperately tried to shake off the effects of the blast. He was still strapped into his seat, dangling. He looked over and saw the ambassador hanging from his own seat belt, lifeless. Looking to the front, he saw Nance struggling as well. The RSO who had been driving the vehicle was also in bad shape.
While he was still trying to figure out exactly what had happened, Seth started to hear some voices. Worried that whoever had just bombed them might be coming over to finish the job, he managed to pull his utility knife out from his belt and cut himself free of his seat belt. He then reached up to the front of the vehicle and looked for the RSO’s sidearm. “Shhh,” he said, his index finger held to his lips. “I think whoever just blew us up is heading over here to finish us off. I need your gun.”
The RSO, barely conscious at this point, nodded and handed him his sidearm, a Sig Sauer P226. With the pistol in hand, Seth kicked his door hard. The noise must have drawn the attention of whoever was out there, because someone suddenly shouted something in Albanian. Seth kicked the door one more time, harder, and was rewarded with it opening just enough for him to be able to slide his body out of the car.
As soon Seth got himself free of the vehicle, he spotted an individual maybe fifteen meters away, carrying an AK-47. The man had the rifle at the low ready. When he saw Seth emerge from the vehicle, he quickly raised the rifle to fire. Seth dove behind the vehicle just as several bullets slammed into the SUV.
Moving quickly to the right side of the vehicle, Seth brought the pistol up as he rounded the corner. He spotted another man with an AK-47 aimed at the left front section of the vehicle, covering his friend. Seth moved like lightning with the pistol extended and fired three quick shots into the man’s chest. Before the other attacker could react, Seth had already rounded the front of the vehicle and fired two rounds to the chest and one to the head of the man who’d tried to shoot him.
Seth immediately dropped to a knee and did a quick 360 of his surroundings, looking for any additional threats. When he didn’t see any, he moved to the attackers and grabbed their weapons. Then he brought them back to the vehicle and began to work on getting Sergeant Nance out. It took him a minute, but he freed Nance and gave him one of the rifles. “If you spot anyone else with a weapon heading toward us, shoot ’em. I’m going to call back to Chief Moore at the airport and tell them we were just ambushed.”
Nance just nodded. He looked to have a broken arm, an injury on his leg and a severe gash on his forehead, which made him look like he was in much worse shape than he really was.
Reaching into his pocket, Seth found his government-issued smartphone. He dialed Chief Moore’s number. His hand was shaking as he held the phone, waiting for it to connect. It rang three times before he heard the familiar voice on the other end.
“Calling already, sir? We’re just about to head out,” Moore said jovially.
“Cut the crap, Chief,” said Seth. “We just got ambushed on the way to the capital. It looks like Nance is hurt bad. I think the RSO might still be alive, but the ambassador looks to be dead. So is the Minister of Internal Affairs and the other officials who were traveling with him.”
“Oh my God. Are you OK, sir?” Moore asked. “Let me rally up the guys and we’ll be over there in a minute.”
“That’s fine, Chief, but send a message to Bondsteel that we’ve been ambushed. Tell the base commander, or the 10th Group guys, to send a QRF to our location. We need to secure the site and get an SSE team here to start collecting evidence. I want to track down who the hell built this IED.”
A few minutes went by before Seth heard the wailing of police cars and a fire truck. Several police officers arrived on scene and approached him cautiously. Seth placed the pistol down on the ground and waved for them to come over and help him. Fortunately, a couple of the police officers spoke English, and he was quickly able to relay what had happened. When a second fire truck showed up, a column of four blacked-out up-armored Suburbans arrived as well. A dozen soldiers got out and moved over to check on him.
One of the soldiers was a medic and immediately checked on Master Sergeant Nance and the RSO. The ambassador was unfortunately dead. A couple of ambulances finally arrived, and the local paramedics came over to assist the lone Army medic. They agreed that Nance and the RSO needed to be evacuated to the local hospital in Pristina. A couple of folks helped to get them loaded onto a stretcher and brought over to the ambulances. Chief Moore made sure a couple of soldiers followed the ambulance in one of the Suburbans to make sure Nance was OK.
Around that time, th
ey heard the familiar whomp, whomp sound of helicopter blades. Looking in the distance, they spotted a pair of Blackhawk helicopters heading toward them, the smoke plumes obviously giving away their position. Both the helicopters landed in a nearby field and unloaded a dozen heavily armed Special Forces soldiers. Two of them carried some large packs, which Seth assumed to be their sensitive site exploitation kits.
He walked up to one of the soldiers, who rendered a quick salute. “Sir, I’m Captain Justin Nicholson, ODA 0311. What the hell happened here?” he asked.
Seth took a few minutes to explain to him what had transpired on their short ride from the airport, while several of the SF soldiers combed the area around the car bomb for blast fragments. The local national firemen nearly had the flames of the two vehicles put out. Once they were done eliminating the fire threat, the soldiers would climb over the vehicle where the bomb had been placed and look for more clues.
They were hot on the hunt to find the triggering device, any possible fragments that might lead them to what kind of bomb it was, how it was triggered, and more importantly, the trace elements left over from the explosion that would help them identify how the bomb was constructed and what it was made of. Once they knew those details, they’d be able to track down the components used and then identify the bomber. If there was one thing the FBI’s Terrorist Explosive Device Analytical Center, or TEDAC, was good at, it was analyzing a bomb and tracking down who had built it. The SF sensitive site exploitation team would get whatever evidence they found sent back to TEDAC for analysis until one of their own forward-deployed labs was eventually flown in.
Seeing that there wasn’t much more Seth could do, he pulled his smartphone out and placed a call to SOCOM. He needed to relay what had happened. This whole operation was turning into an epic disaster, and he’d been in Kosovo for less than two hours. He was going to need some more help, and some higher-ranking officers than himself to help handle the politics of it all. If these terrorists were able to identify their arrival and quickly mobilize an IED attack like this, then chances were they were dealing with a much larger terrorist group in the area than they had first thought.
It took a few minutes for Seth to get patched through to the ops center back at headquarters, but once he was finally able to speak with General Dekker, he quickly brought him up to speed. While Seth had no problems taking charge, he was just a lieutenant colonel, far too low on the officer totem pole to be able to take charge of a situation like this. After spending five minutes on the phone with the general, Seth was told to head to Bondsteel and start executing their capture orders. General Dekker would speak with the CG about getting some more top cover sent to Kosovo to help take charge.
With nothing more to do on scene, Seth ordered Chief Moore to get his teams back in their vehicles and head to Bondsteel. They needed to get things ready to move on their targets. He then went to find the ODA commander, Captain Justin Nicholson, and relay the same orders. Seth opted to hop in the Blackhawk for the ride to Bondsteel. He needed to get there quick, and the helicopter was the fastest way to do that.
*******
The first two hours back at Bondsteel were a blur of activity. From the moment Seth touched down, he was inundated with questions from the base commander, the government of Kosovo, the 10th Group commander and the 3rd Battalion commander.
Trying to not get overwhelmed, Seth told Chief Moore to have one of his guys put together a short down-and-dirty brief of what had happened Stateside, what they knew, and what their current orders were now. He also asked the embassy if they could request that Kosovo’s Prime Minister come out to Bondsteel along with the deputy chief of mission from the embassy so they could be given the same brief. They were going to need the Prime Minister’s help, and getting him on their side now was critical if they were going to start carrying out targeted raids across his country and using Bondsteel as the base of operations for further raids in the region.
The next ninety minutes went by quickly. A wave of V-22 Ospreys arrived with additional troops from Romania. They’d had to complete a couple of midair refuelings to make the long trip, but they’d provide additional capability for the teams of Special Forces and JSOC soldiers showing up.
A few hours after the attack on Seth’s convoy, roughly ninety soldiers from JSOC arrived, along with a brigadier general who’d now assume command of US forces in Kosovo. When the general arrived at the command post on Bondsteel, he’d quickly found Seth and walked up to him.
“Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell, it’s good to see you again,” he said with his hand outstretched. “Congrats on the promotion, Seth.”
Brigadier General William Lancaster had worked with Seth before. General Lancaster had actually been Seth’s battalion commander when he was a newly minted captain assigned to 1st Special Forces Group.
Smiling at the sight of a familiar face, Seth answered, “It’s good to see you too, sir. I’m glad they already had you en route. It’s been a disaster since I first arrived.”
“I can see that. How are you doing? Are you physically OK?”
“I’m a bit stiff and sore—I won’t lie. But I got off lucky compared to the others,” Seth replied. His back and neck were really starting to hurt. He knew he needed to get that taken care of soon, but he hadn’t had the time to see one of the docs yet.
“I heard you had to kill two of the attackers. How are you holding up?” asked Lancaster, concern on his face.
Seth sighed and looked at the maps being put up on the wall. He hadn’t really thought about it. He had just acted on instinct and training. “I’ll be fine. They were terrorists bent on killing me and Master Sergeant Nance. They had also just blown up the Minister of Internal Affairs and killed the ambassador, so it’s not like these were some young kids placing an IED on the side of a road in Iraq or Afghanistan.”
General Lancaster nodded. A good soldier knew that each man dealt with the killing of another in their own personal way. He didn’t press Seth on it any further.
“OK, then let’s move on,” said Lancaster. “I heard you have the Prime Minister on his way. That’s a good call. We had wanted to have the ambassador get him up to speed on what’s going on, but obviously, that’s not going to happen. From what I understand, the government is in a panic over the death of the minister, the head of police and the security service. They are really unsure of what’s going on. When I talked with the Bondsteel commander, he told me they were receiving reports of several police stations being attacked in northern Kosovo along the Serbian border area.
“The defense attaché in Macedonia just sent a message to the Pentagon, telling them the Macedonian police were just involved in several large shoot-outs with Albanian separatists in three different towns. He was relaying a request from the Macedonian army and police, requesting them to advise and assist them in how to deal with the uprisings.”
Seth ran his fingers through his hair. Things were happening so fast, spinning out of control before they could even get themselves sorted. They needed to get on the offensive soon and seize the initiative back.
“Did you relay to the attaché to stand down and stand by for help from us? We’ve been given a series of targets to hit in Macedonia, and it’d be easier to do with the locals working with us as advisors rather than the other way around.” He hoped the locals hadn’t already screwed up their operation before it had a chance to get going.
Lancaster nodded. “I did. I told the colonel there to tell the Macedonians to stand down and wait, that we had a lot of Special Forces arriving in Kosovo who would assist them. They eagerly accepted his recommendation to wait but asked that we make sure we include them in whatever it is we’re planning.”
“That sounds fair enough,” Seth responded. “If you don’t mind, sir, when the PM gets here, I think it might be best if you do the brief. I’d like to find out what the Agency folks know at this point and make sure none of the Special Activities Division teams that are showing up are going to step on our toe
s. Too many cooks in the kitchen is going to cause some problems.”
“SAD teams are already in country?” Lancaster asked, concern and frustration written on his face.
“Before the ambassador was killed, he told me the station chief made him aware that a number of Agency assets had just arrived in country. He was concerned about what they were doing and what all these Special Forces soldiers would be doing in Kosovo. It’s a tiny country.”
Shaking his head, General Lancaster responded, “Yes. Find out what the hell they’re doing and tell them to stand down. They can support our activities, but they’re not to carry out any raids. I brought a squadron from Delta with me and I have DEVGRU en route to Poland to go after additional targets. I don’t need these guys gumming up the situation.”
Seth nodded at that. He then set off to go find the CIA group and find out what they were up to.
Chapter 9
Trojan Horse
October 25, 2020
Raleigh, North Carolina
Whispering Pines Gracious Retirement Living
Julie Parsons switched on the heater in her mail truck as she headed down the road toward her last stop of the day. She hated her job. It was the last thing she’d ever thought she’d be doing when she grew up, being a letter carrier. She despised every second of it.
Julie had gone to an expensive private Christian university in Oklahoma, obtaining a master’s degree in theology. She had enjoyed poring over the Scriptures, and her goal had been to one day become a missionary overseas. Sadly, that hadn’t worked out. Instead, she’d found herself saddled with more student loans than she could ever possibly pay off on a missionary’s stipend.
Like many who earn degrees that afford minimal job opportunities, she’d done the only thing she could to survive and moved back in with her parents, even though her stepdad was a jerk. That was eight years ago. She’d already spent eight years slugging it out in a dead-end postal job that offered to help her pay off her student loans. What a miserable exchange, years of tedious work to pay off a theological degree that couldn’t even help her land a better job than driving a mail truck around Raleigh in all types of weather. The hours were long; the pay was not that great considering her large student loan payments were more than a mortgage. The only reason she’d stuck it out was the benefits, retirement pension, and the fact that once she finished serving her time, she would finally be free from the bondage of debt.
