No Woman Left Behind: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Six

by Julie Moffett

  “Have you guys been here before?” I asked.

  “More times than I can count,” Hands replied. “It’s even got a swimming pool.”

  “Cool.” Gray squinted as she looked out the window. “Is this an Army base?”

  “Navy,” Hands replied. “The best of the best. Actually, it’s the only US military base in Africa.”

  The guy driving us stopped in front of a two-story white building with air conditioning units in every window. I sincerely hoped they worked. Even with the air conditioning going full blast in the van, I was sweating like a pig and had concerns about my computer equipment.

  We exited the van and entered the building, where the air was definitely cooler, but not by much. A red-haired man in camouflage stepped out of an office and the SEALs snapped to attention.

  “At ease.” They relaxed slightly as he moved to greet Gray and me first.

  “Welcome to Djibouti and Camp Lemonnier. I’m Captain Nathan Bischoff. Be advised that your mission here takes top priority.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” I said.

  A weird hissing came from somewhere behind Hulk. We all turned around in surprise as a furry, white animal leaped out of nowhere and landed near his feet. Hulk made a startled noise, whipped out his gun and pointed it at the creature.

  “Stand down, sailor,” the captain barked. “He’s not dangerous.”

  Hulk lowered his gun and we all took a closer look at the animal.

  “Is that a fox?” I asked.

  The commander reached down and picked it up. “Yes. It’s a species native to Africa and can be somewhat domesticated. Don’t worry, he’s had all his shots. I call him Fennie. You can pet him if you want.”

  Hulk eyed it with mistrust and none of us offered to pet it. For some reason, the fox stared balefully at me from the captain’s arms, as if daring me to try. I didn’t. Pets and I didn’t have a good history. Somehow they seemed to sense my indecision regarding animals and took it as a signal to try and dominate me.

  The Captain cleared his throat. “Well, anyway, I’ve had quarters arranged for you. You’ll want to rest a bit and eat. I have scheduled a meeting here in two hours with all the necessary players. I’ll see you then. Dismissed.”

  Gray and I exited first, followed by the SEALs. The same sailor who’d driven us from the plane stood outside waiting for us. “Gather your gear and follow me, please. I’ll walk you to the barracks. They aren’t far.”

  We retrieved our stuff from the van and filed in behind him. My eyes hurt from the brightness and I wished I’d thought to get my military-issued sunglasses out. But because I hadn’t, I squinted down at my feet.

  That’s when I saw it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I let out a strangled scream and bumped into Hands.

  Guns were drawn and the men formed a protective circle around Gray and me.

  “What is it?” Wills barked over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  I pointed to the ground. “There. What’s that?”

  They turned around slowly and looked where I was pointing. Hands pushed his boot against it. “It’s a damn desert spider, Keys.”

  I scooted as far away from it as I could get. “Scientifically speaking, that’s not a spider. It’s the size of a small dog. Shoot it.”

  Hands picked it up with the butt of his rifle, carrying it away from us. He set it down a good ten feet away and then came back.

  He lowered his sunglasses and gave me a long stare. “Let me give you a word of advice. Stop being so jumpy around a bunch of guys with guns. Come on.”

  Gritting my teeth, I followed him.

  The sailor escorting us stopped in front of a building and opened the door, motioning us inside. These barracks had a sparse living area in the center of the structure with two couches facing each other and a coffee table in the middle. An end table on either side of the couches held a lamp and there was a small television. Separate sleeping quarters were visible through open doors on either side of the living space.

  Hands looked around, whistling. “Well, look at that. We got the VIP suite.”

  It hardly looked impressive, but what did I know?

  The sailor cleared his throat. “The mess hall is to your right and the latrine to your left. The ladies’ latrine is a bit farther down than the men’s.” He pointed to a door to his right. “Seeing how this is the VIP suite, there’s a half bath here if you need it. No tub or shower, but it saves you from having to trek down to the latrine in the middle of the night.”

  We dumped our gear, cleaned up and then headed to mess hall together without saying much. After eating we returned to headquarters, where we were ushered into a crowded conference room. Someone had a laptop set up to display a map of Africa on a large screen. As soon as Gray and I took our seats, the captain got started.

  “Operation Nightcrawler is a go. The teams will leave tonight at 2400 local time, putting us at the hot zone about 0230.”

  “Tonight?” I interrupted. “Isn’t an operation like this more dangerous to conduct at night?”

  Captain Bischoff looked like he wasn’t used to being questioned, but he answered anyway. “Yes and no. Darkness will offer our insertion team some additional cover, but Broodryk and Pentz will likely expect us to come at night, so they’ll be ready. We’re going tonight because we have to assume they are tracking your movements. It’s likely they’d expect us to give you a full day and night to rest and recover from the journey. So we won’t. Are you up for that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. We can expect they’ll be waiting but may not be on full alert, which gives us a slight edge. We’ll take it. We’re going in small because the location and transportation limit our scope. We’ll have seven plus the asset for the insertion team. Six more for recovery. The rest of us sit tight and watch from here.”

  Being constantly referred to as an asset felt weird, but I tried to go with it. I wasn’t crazy about the thought of running around in hostile territory in the middle of Africa in pitch black darkness either, but I wasn’t seeing any other options.

  “We’ll split into two three-man teams on the ground, Alpha and Bravo,” Bischoff continued. “The asset is assigned to Alpha Team. Both teams will drop via a V22 Osprey aircraft approximately two kilometers from the hotspot.

  I held up my hand. “Whoa. Exactly what do you mean by drop?”

  I glanced sideways at Hulk, who was shaking his head as if I were doing something wrong. It occurred to me that perhaps I was interrupting the flow by asking too many questions. However, seeing how it was my first military briefing, I had no idea if there was a special protocol that detailed who could and could not ask questions. We didn’t have time for that now. These were important details that could mean life and death. My life. My death. As the asset I not only needed to know what was going on, but understand it. Questions and the subsequent answers were vital. Protocol would just have to take a back seat.

  “Ms. Carmichael, you’re going to do a tandem jump with one of the SEALs,” the captain explained.

  “Wait. You mean jump, as in jump from a plane?”

  “Don’t worry. These guys are pros.”

  I swallowed hard. “Can’t we get dropped off by a helicopter or something that actually lands on the ground?”

  The captain shook his head. “We need to go in silent. A helicopter is too loud, especially in the desert, and so is a convoy. They’d hear us coming for miles. It will be safer to make a high altitude drop from about ten to twelve thousand feet.”

  Twelve thousand feet?

  Panic gripped my throat. Now probably wasn’t the time to mention I was prone to carsickness, seasickness, and harbored a deathly fear of heights.

  Hands must have noticed my concern, because he turned his laser green stare on m
e. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights.”

  I shrugged. “Of course not.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Technically I was only afraid of standing on anything higher than a dining room chair.

  Hands’s eyes narrowed and I could tell he wasn’t buying any of it.

  The captain tapped on the map with a pointer. “Anyway, we will have Team Charlie as the reserve and recovery force located on a second V22 Osprey aircraft, which will follow and circle while waiting for mission completion.”

  “Speaking of mission completion—if we parachute in, how do we get out?” I asked.

  I caught a movement near the door, which was slightly ajar. Fennie the fox slunk into the room. The captain picked him up and began stroking him while talking.

  “The Osprey has a short vertical takeoff and landing capability. Team Charlie will drop off and provide cover fire as necessary for you to re-board. But once Team Charlie lands, everyone will know we’re there.”

  I felt ill as he described the set up. I couldn’t even begin to statistically calculate how my ineptness might affect the mission. Hands was right to be concerned about me.

  “What do we know about the village?” Wills asked.

  The captain clicked a remote and the map changed to a satellite photo of the village.

  “Satellite images indicate about fifty structures. One structure is set apart from the main residential area and has what looks like a place for a bonfire in the center. It’s a courtyard where they may hold festivals, gatherings and perhaps a market. Our best guess is that the big building serves as a community center, a meeting place or the town center. There are two fairly large structures on either side of the building. To the right is a barn and animal corral of some kind. To the left and across the courtyard is a garage. There are a few cars, parts and loose tires visible. Stretching between the garage and the meeting building is a wall that looks like it might be made of cinder blocks. It’s too hard to judge the height of the wall at this point.”

  He tapped at on a small white building attached to the far left corner of the meeting building. This is our target. We think the village elder is most likely going to be here.”

  “How do we get in?” Hands asked.

  “Right now there appears to be only one door to the structure. It’s on the backside of the meeting house here. It directly faces the residential area where the largest cluster of homes are located. There should be an interior door that connects to the meeting house, which you can use for egress.”

  He trailed the pointer to a tall structure behind the houses. “Here’s where the water tower is located. Conveniently situated directly across from the door. I figure it’s about four hundred yards.”

  “Damn,” Hands swore.

  I didn’t understand. “What? Why is the location of the water tower a problem?”

  Hands shifted in his seat, a look of annoyance on his face. It seemed pretty clear that, given all my novice questions, he considered me a liability rather than an asset.

  “Because that’s the highest vantage point in the village and makes it the premium spot for Pentz to shoot from,” Hands said as patiently as he could manage.

  I still wanted to be clear. “But that’s a good thing, right? We’ll know where he is. We can just shoot him ourselves.”

  “It’s not so easy, Keys. He could be anywhere on that tower. We can’t go in with blazing guns and massive explosions. Plus we can’t blow up the only water tower this village has. Add to that, we don’t know how many hostiles are in the village or how well they’re armed. We have to get you in quietly so you can get the information. Getting out is another story. But Pentz, too, has to be careful not to start blasting. It would be game-over too quickly for him, too, and you wouldn’t be able to extract the information Broodryk needs you to have.”

  The commander looked at Hands. “Intelligence indicates Pentz will be hunting you in particular.”

  “Hope he brings his game. It’s time we settled this.”

  “Just keep in mind the score is secondary to the mission. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “Good. We’ll spend some time after this meeting going over satellite images for additional sniper positions.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, Ms. Reese, will you brief us on your thoughts about Broodryk’s psychological state and possible game plan?”

  Gray sat back and crossed her legs. “I believe all of this is an elaborate performance in order to reassert his control and dominance. It’s important to Broodryk that this show be executed exactly as he has planned it. This is something he needs to have witnessed on an international scale because he must reassure his clients he’s untouchable and can strike the US and our allies in ways that they cannot. He is determined not to suffer another embarrassment like high school. As a result, Lexi has become a fixation for lack of a better word. Psychological reports indicate he does not view women as equals and gravitates to those who are submissive or easily manipulated. As Lexi is neither of those, she infuriates him on a primal level.”

  Hands glanced at me again and I got a feeling he might be in agreement with Broodryk on that.

  I tried to make light of it. “Hooray for me.”

  “Lexi matched wits with him and won,” Gray continued. “Now he must reassert his manhood and make an example of her. This obsession with Lexi is his greatest weakness and one we must exploit in order to trip him up. Just so we’re clear, it’s my opinion he will not harm her in the course of this particular operation. If Pentz is in the vicinity—and I’d say that’s almost a certainty—he, and any others, will most likely have been instructed not to harm her. However, that does not stand for the SEAL team. It will likely be open season on them.”

  Hands leaned back in his chair. “Bring it on.”

  Gray raised an eyebrow at him. “Anyway, despite the fact I don’t believe they will target Lexi, it doesn’t mean Broodryk won’t try to capture her. Taking her alive would make his game control all the more secure. So, it’s my opinion that while he may instruct them not to shoot her, she may be vulnerable to a kidnapping attempt. Everyone needs to be aware of it and take steps to prevent it. That being said, Broodryk is okay with her getting away with the information and the clues so the game can continue. Bottom line, this operation is a win-win situation for him no matter which way it goes, except if Lexi gets killed. Then it’s end game without the impact and dramatic performance he requires, so he will have most likely taken extraordinary efforts to ensure her safety at least in terms of crossfire.”

  “That’s interesting,” Hands murmured.

  Wills suddenly sat up straight in his chair and wrinkled his nose. “What the hell is that smell?”

  We all sniffed.

  “It smells like poop,” I finally said.

  Everyone looked at me, and I lifted my hands. “Well, it does.”

  Gray nodded. “She’s right. It does. Maybe the fox had an accident?”

  We looked around but Fennie was nowhere in sight and we didn’t have time to go searching for him.

  “Maybe, but that’s the least of our problems right now,” Bischoff said. “Someone shut the door tight and let’s get back to the briefing.”

  Someone closed the door and I turned to Gray. “Do you think Broodryk will be there at the village?”

  “Absolutely not.” She folded her hands on the table. “He enjoys violence when the other person is weak or incapacitated. Otherwise, he’s a coward and fears physical violence. He would certainly not put himself in danger’s way and definitely not in the path of a team of highly trained US Navy SEALs. But I guarantee he’ll be watching in some manner.”

  Wills tapped his head. “Odds are he’ll outfit at least some of his crew with a real-time camera on a helmet. Probably Pentz for sure.”

&
nbsp; I thought that interesting. “Well, if he’s watching in real-time, we might be able to trace the signal.”

  Bischoff made a note. “True. I’ll pass the info to the team in Washington.”

  I tried to process all the information. “Okay, once I get to the village—if I survive a fall from twelve thousand feet—then what?”

  “We help you find the elder, get the information and get out,” Hands said.

  “Just like that?”

  He frowned. “Not exactly just like that, Keys. But we’ve got a game plan.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I rubbed the back of my neck to work out the knots. “So, what language do they speak in the Central Republic of Africa? What if I can’t communicate with this elder?”

  “The national languages are French and Sango,” Wills said. “I speak French, so I can help out as necessary. However, we’ll take a recording device to capture whatever he says, just in case.”

  “Good idea.”

  After another intense fifteen minutes of operational planning, the group split up. Hands took the SEAL team members who would be part of tonight’s actual operation for a mock run-through of the operation using a couple of empty barracks on the base. Gray and Captain Bischoff went to brief the CIA and NSA. Two SEAL guys, Jimbo and Boots, and a young guy with Naval Intelligence named Jason, stayed behind. Their responsibility was to prepare me for the jump, show me how to use the equipment, and to give me a final intelligence briefing.

  Before we got started, we decided to hunt down the source of the bad smell we’d been enduring. Jimbo found it right beneath my chair.

  “It looks like the fox took a crap under your chair,” he said.

  I peered under my chair. “What?”

  Boots handed him a plastic bag and Jimbo scooped up the poop, tying the plastic bag at the top. “That’s one weird animal.”

  “Why did he do it under my chair?”

  “True love, I guess. Or he’s marking you.” Jimbo laughed.