by Lisa Pietsch
Copyright © 2012 Lisa Pietsch http://LisaPietsch.com
Cover Art by Kendra Egert http://creationsbykendra.com/
All rights reserved. eBooks are not transferable and cannot be given away, sold or shared. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, faxing, forwarded by email, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, as this is an infringement on the copyright of this work. Brief quotations within reviews or articles are acceptable.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Visit Lisa Pietsch on the World Wide Web at http://LisaPietsch.com
Visit Lisa Pietsch’s Amazon Author Page for More:
http://amzn.to/z5RaTo
Task Force 125:
The Path to Freedom
A Taste of Liberty
Freedom’s Promise
Stealing Liberties
A Taste of Liberty
By Lisa Pietsch
Dedication:
To my sisters who encouraged me to write this series – Tracey, Danyelle, Melanie, Teresa, Jennifer, Sue, Lesa, Heather, Jody, Buffy, Kellyann, Debra, Shirin, Tina, Sandra and so many others. I love you all!
To the men and women of the U.S. Armed Forces, Department of Homeland Security, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Central Intelligence Agency and other intelligence agencies.
To my brothers and sisters who dance on the thin blue line every day.
Acknowledgements:
America chooses to be oblivious to the roles that women play in modern warfare. Whether they serve in uniform or not, we should always remember that they have served on the front lines and continue to do so.
Chapter One
Sarah blinked back the sweat that rolled from her forehead and into her eyes. Her hair fell from her ponytail in long locks sticky with perspiration and clung to her cheeks. Her breath was hard and fast as she dodged hits and blocked kicks just to keep up with the man she was fighting.
My God! He’s a machine.
He had about thirty pounds on her but he was wiry and fast. He was throwing everything he had into the mix. He started with Muay Thai boxing, but, when he did a Capoeira flip and spun his body in mid air from a standing position, a chill raced up her spine. She'd never seen anyone as fast as this guy. She threw punches at his face, shoulders and stomach and never made contact. He’d dodge, twist, spin and jump just barely avoiding her hits and kicks. His years of training and experience in hand-to-hand combat were obvious.
Focus, Sarah. Focus.
The midday sun in the Nevada desert beat down with a steady blast of 102 degrees. Each breath was like taking a drag off a bonfire. The heat, dehydration and near exhaustion wore her down, and Sarah slid into a reactive, defensive mode where her movements were automatic. She knew she couldn't win this way but the bright sun lulled her into not caring.
Her opponent flashed a wicked smile. His eyes sparkled like the trillions of grains of sand glinting around them. The relentless sun and heat slowed her down and he made the most of it. "Come on, sugarlips. Is that all you got?" He spun to his left.
The pain of a powerful blow to her right shoulder woke her from her daze, and her adrenaline surged.
Son of a bitch!
His teeth glistened as he grinned. "Papa's gonna take you to school."
Her jaw tensed. “Not today, Papa.” Sarah saw her opening for a kick and took it. She put all of her weight behind a roundhouse kick aimed for his neck and a clothesline takedown but the soft sand beneath her feet shifted and she slipped, kicking him in the head instead.
They both fell.
Sarah scrambled to stand quickly. As she did, she turned to see the man still lying on the ground, unconscious. She dropped to her knees beside him. A chill raced up her spine despite the heat. "Jason? Jason!" She placed two fingers on his neck.
Good heartbeat. Damn. I'm gonna need some help with this sandbag.
This wasn’t the first time one of them had been knocked out when they were sparring. It was becoming all too common as Sarah’s fighting skills advanced. She walked over to her Jeep and pulled her phone out of the door pocket. She pressed the number One and then the Send button.
I hope he answers.
Chapter Two
Vince poured himself a cup of coffee from the room service cart. The suite at the Hotel Timothy in Transnistria was passable, but the coffee was just plain great.
Will looked out the window as he lit a cigar. "Man, this country has a smell all its own."
Vince sat on the small sofa. "Yeah, it stinks of evil. It's the only place in the world where you can buy anything, from AK-47s to Zambian children. I just want to get this deal set up and get home."
Will looked up from the empty street market carts below and squinted at Vince through the cigar smoke. "In the years we've been doing this, I've never heard you call Las Vegas home before."
"I guess it never really felt like home before."
Vince's phone rang. He picked it up off the nightstand and smiled as he noticed the caller ID. "Hey, you."
Sarah's voice came in clear despite the continents between them. "Hi! You in town?"
I wish.
"Nah. East of the Volga."
"Too bad."
The left side of Vince's mouth curled into a half smile. "Why? Whatcha got in mind?"
There are a few things I’d love to do with you right now.
"Well, I got a little trouble here."
Vince sat upright and his mind switched from horn dog to military mode. "What is it? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's Jason. He's unconscious."
Vince sighed, relieved that Sarah wasn't in trouble. Jason was always unconscious for one reason or another. Booze, bar fights…he lived hard. He could take care of himself. "Not surprising for a Saturday but a little early, isn't it?"
"No, we weren't drinking. We were sparring about a mile southeast of the gypsum mill. I slipped in the middle of a roundhouse kick. I think I hit him in the temple.”
Vince didn't like the idea of one of his men unconscious out in the middle of the Nevada desert. "Jesus, Sarah! Why don't you guys use the ring at the Camp?"
"Well, hell, Vince. We've been working out in the ring all week. Besides, the shit doesn't go down in a ring. We needed some elements of reality."
"Yeah, yeah. I know, but they have a medic there. I can't have you two beating the shit out of each other out in the middle of nowhere."
"It’s not like we weren’t prepared. I’ve got him in the shade and a bottle of water standing by. I’m watching him now.”
“If he doesn’t come to in a couple minutes, call Brian.”
Sarah chuckled. “Oh! There he is. Sleeping Beauty awakes."
"You're a lucky girl. Now go get the medic to check him out."
"Will do, boss.” Her voice softened, betraying the personal feelings she always tried to keep at a professional distance. “Come back soon."
Vince's face softened. "Bye, babe." Vince sat back and took a long breath. He loved hearing her voice.
Will interrupted his thoughts when he spoke. "Vince, this is just between you and me, man. It doesn't go any further. What are you gonna do about Sarah?"
"Nah, she's alright. She and Jason were sparring, and she knocked him out for a minute. Shit happens when you train hard. You know that."
&n
bsp; Will shook his head. "That's not what I mean, man."
"What are you talking about then?"
Will took a thoughtful draw on his cigar. "We're never gonna find another agent like her. She's got the whole package - looks, brains and pretty frigging handy with a knife. You know, after our last mission, when the Navy found Hassan's body, his chest was cut wide open. She didn't mess around. She cut straight through the bone and sliced his heart in two. Anybody else would have just got the hell off that boat and let the bomb do the rest, but she took the kill and then dragged you off the boat with her.”
Vince remembered coming to, Sarah holding his head above water as debris from the decimated yacht fell all around them.
I still don’t know how she managed to throw me off the boat in time.
“The Air Force don't teach that, man. That's either a hardened operative or, well, a woman in love. Either way, you don't want to fuck things up with her. We want her thinking clearly and on our side when the shit goes down."
Vince rubbed his chin. He just shaved but everything about Transnistria made him feel dirty. Igor Smirnov's dirty little hole in the wall, jammed between Moldova and Ukraine, was the only place he could arrange for such a big shipment of AK-47s, fast and without question. His cover as an arms dealer was beginning to wear on him. He'd seen so much filth and death he wondered whether he'd ever be able to escape it all and just live a normal life.
What is a normal life anyway?
There were times when he just let himself think about what it might be like to chuck it all and leave the CIA's Special Activities Division.
Just disappear with a good woman. A woman like Sarah.
"Hey, Vince.” Will waved at him across the hotel room. “Wake up man. I'm serious. What are you gonna do about the girl? There's no denying there is something between you two. Hell, even Jason picked up on it, and while he’s a killing machine and a hellacious bodyguard, we all know he ain't too bright when it comes to the ladies." Will puffed on his cigar and waited for Vince to answer.
Vince lit a cigarette. He knew what was on his old friend's mind, and Will was right to ask about it. Vince had done this work for the C.I.A. for far too long. He was becoming weary of the drug dealers, gun dealers and slavers. The line between the good guys and bad guys was blurring, and Vince didn’t like the side he was standing on most of the time. He had more to think about than just himself, though. Retiring would skew the whole team dynamic. It would take months to work a new guy into the team. Sarah was a fluke. She was only supposed to be the honey pot and gather information. She might as well have been a bug planted by the bed. As it happened, she turned out to be far better than that and had fit in with the team in no time at all.
Who knew she and I would hit it off like we did?
Vince had to hand it to her though, for somebody they’d recruited out of the Air Force, she was totally professional when it came to espionage. She never broke rank, and she respected the cardinal rule - you don't shit where you eat.
Vince refilled his coffee from the room service cart and took a long drag on his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. Will was right. They needed Sarah for the mission, but he needed her too. He'd tried but he just couldn't get her out of his mind. He walked to the window at the far end of the suite, watching as couples and groups of friends made their way to the nightclub next door.
I can think of better things to do on a summer night than wait for an arms dealer in a shabby hotel in Moldova.
The mission had to come first and there was still too much to be done if they were going to put the hurt on Al Qaeda. Sure, knocking out AQ's main moneyman, Hassan, in their last mission put a crimp in Osama's business, but they needed to get rid of his weapons suppliers and more of his financial network before anybody started thinking about retirement.
"Look, Will, my brother is still in Baghdad, and this is the only way I can cover his six. We've got to get Osama on the ropes and we aren't gonna do it with one or two missions. We've got to be in this for the long haul. All of us. Gettin' all domestic isn't in the cards. Sarah and I are just two agents working together, and that's as far as it can go.” He turned toward Will and tensed his jaw. “I’ve got it under control."
"Alright, man. You know I just need to know where your head is at."
"It's in the game, Will. It's cool."
The knock on the door reminded Vince he hadn't fully prepared for the meeting. He set his coffee cup on the nightstand and pulled his Sig Sauer pistol out of the drawer. He turned away from the door to buffer the sound as he checked the chamber and magazine. He tucked the handgun into the waistband of his worn Levi's and pulled on a white tee shirt as Will walked to the door. Their eyes met and they nodded to each other. They'd been playing gunrunners for years and had the drill down.
Will opened the door. "Nikolai!” He smiled and made a sweeping gesture with his cigar hand. “Come on in. How about a cigar?"
Nikolai assumed the room. His presence was distinctly larger than his six foot three, tightly muscled frame. It was no surprise to Vince that he was a successful businessman. Nikolai carried himself as if he owned the world. To be honest, he did own a rather large chunk of it, at least in Pridnestrovie. He was speaking on a cell phone, quickly followed by a stern-faced, large, blond Russian who looked like he would have been right at home in the KGB. "Da, da. I'm visiting with some friends, but I'll be on a plane shortly. Don't worry. I'll be there."
Nikolai snapped his phone shut and slipped it into the breast pocket of his black leather jacket in one smooth move before reaching out to shake Will's hand. His long dark hair fell down to his shoulders. He looked like he hadn’t seen a razor in about a week, but he carried himself like he was God’s gift to the world. He walked toward Vince, strong and confident, and grasped his hand. He gave a wry smile loaded with brilliant white teeth and shook his head. "Mothers."
An Oxford educated Russian with barely a trace of an accent who could write his own ticket and here he is running guns.
"We all have 'em, Nikolai. Have a seat." Vince gestured to the worn but passable sofa and sat as Nikolai did.
Nikolai pointed to the door and scowled at the big, blond bodyguard. "Andrei, close the door." Nikolai smiled at Vince. "I do not mean to rush you but, as you've heard, I have another appointment, and I cannot be late."
Will remained standing and casually leaned against the window frame, all the while keeping his gun hand free. Vince had Nikolai covered but Andrei was Will's target. If the deal went sour, Will had to take down the bodyguard.
"That's fine." Vince smiled. "We have quite a bit of traveling to do as well so a short meeting won't offend us at all."
Nikolai's bearded face became very serious and his dark gaze grew darker. "There is a problem with your order, my friend."
Gun runners don't generally like to hear that phrase, but it was exactly what Vince and Will were looking for this time. Vince picked up his pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and tapped a Marlboro out of the box. He lit it while offering the box to Nikolai. The slight distraction might keep Nikolai from seeing the satisfaction in Vince’s eyes.
Tell me what I want to hear.
Nikolai took one and accepted the lighter Vince offered.
Vince leaned back and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. "What kind of problem, Nikolai?"
"The guns and ammo won't be a problem.” He handed Vince the lighter and took a drag off his cigarette. “It is the helicopter that will be difficult.”
“I thought I made it clear we had a limited window of opportunity on that part of the deal.”
“Yes, of course. That is why I would like to refer you to an associate of mine. He will not be available to meet with you until next month, but he can deliver within twenty-four hours.”
Vince stood up and paced a few steps, feigning agitation. It was all part of the plan. He shook his head and spoke almost in a low growl. “I don't like associates, Nikolai. How do I know you aren't set
ting me up?”
Nikolai ran a hand through his hair and smiled. “Vince, you and I have made a great deal of money together, and I look forward to us doing many years of business together. This is no average associate. I would never disrespect you by referring you to some shopkeeper. Certainly you have heard of Victor?”
Will stood straight and Vince turned quickly toward Nikolai. The sudden movement must have spooked Nikolai's bodyguard because he drew his gun on Will immediately.
Will was just as fast and had a .38 pointed at the man’s big blond head. “Check yourself, man! What kind of pups are you using for bodyguards these days, Nikolai? Call off your dog!”
Nikolai grew stern and his eyes grew dark. “Andrei. Outside. Now.” He leaned back on the sofa and took a drag off his cigarette. “I'm very sorry, my friends. Please, forgive the boy. He is too nervous for this job. Perhaps he'll be better suited to cleaning toilets.”
“Nothing to forgive. No harm done.” Vince assured him. “So, Victor? Really?”
“Yes, of course. He is the only man I know who can produce and deliver what you're asking for.”
“Well, in that case, when can he meet us?”
“He will meet only with you. He'll be at the International Arms Expo in Genoa, Italy, next month. I've taken the liberty of giving him your phone number. His secretary will contact you with the details.”
Vince extended a hand to Nikolai. “In that case, thank you, Nikolai. I trust the guns and ammo will be delivered immediately as per our agreement?”
Nikolai stood. “Yes, they are on their way to your warehouse in Dubai as we speak.”
“Spaceba.” Vince thanked him in Russian and walked him to the door. “Please tell Victor I'll be in Italy for the expo as well and looking forward to hearing from him.”
Vince closed the door softly behind Nikolai, checked the area for bugs, and looked over at Will who was checking for bugs in the area where Nikolai sat.
