LEAN ON ME
an Alex the Fey thriller
by
CLAUDIA HALL CHRISTIAN
Cook Street Publishing
Denver, CO
Also by
Claudia Hall Christian
ALEX THE FEY SERIES
(AlextheFey.com)
The Fey
Learning to Stand
Who I Am
Lean on Me
THE DENVER CEREAL
(DenverCereal.com)
The Denver Cereal
Celia’s Puppies
Cascade
Cimarron
Black Forest
Fairplay
THE QUEEN of COOL
(theQueenofCool.com)
Copyright © Claudia Hall Christian
Licensed under the Creative Commons License:
Attribution–NonCommercial–Share Alike 3.0
Smashwords Edition Licensing Notes:
Thank you for purchasing this ebook! You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover the Denver Cereal, the Queen of Cool and other works by Claudia Hall Christian. Thank you for your support
ISBN (13 digits) : 978-1-938057-02-1
Library of Congress : 2012930933 (print)
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First edition © February, 2012
Cook Street Publishing
PO Box 18217
Denver, CO 80218
To Michele Woodward
for the right word at the right moment
to a stranger, now friend.
Thank you.
“Wherever you are, it is your friends who make your world.”
William James (1842-1910)
PRELUDE
Tuesday afternoon
October 20 – 1:30 p.m. AFT
FOB Sharana, Paktika Province, Afghanistan
“What is it?” he asked the moment she shifted to sitting on their bed.
She had been pressed against him with his arm around her as they lay on their sides on the small cot. She shook her head. He gave her a soft smile and rolled onto his back. A tall, former NFL football player, her partner easily took up the bed.
She looked up at the air conditioning unit over their door. They had been warned to leave the unit going. With all eight units in the B-Hut going, the plywood housing had a gentle buzz that covered most of the team’s sleeping noise. They had been offered officer housing, but they would have had to scatter around the post. Instead, the Fey Team took a vacant B-Hut in enlisted housing. Each set of partners shared a tiny plywood compartment. The plywood walls went from the floor to around two feet from the ceiling. The B-Hut was easier to guard and would allow them to leave in a moment’s notice.
She stood from the cot. The cooling Afghanistan temperatures combined with the air conditioning and gave the air a stale, wet chill. After last week’s fun in the sun in Corfu, she felt frozen through and through. She pulled on a pair of thick tights and a fleece sweater.
“You okay?” His Queen’s accent was hard, but his words were kind and intimate.
She nodded.
“Don’t go far.”
She looked around their eight-by-six plywood space and he smiled. He reached out and took her hand. Their eyes caught and she stared into the depths of his gray eyes. He smiled and kissed her hand. He gave her a nod and she let go.
She took a seat in the camp chair just inches from the cot, turned on a desk lamp, and opened her netbook computer. He made a noise and she glanced to see if he had something to say. He was asleep. Not wanting to face all the people shouting at her via email, she set her netbook on the tiny plywood shelf in front of her and opened her small black bound journal.
Yesterday, she’d written:
Everything depends on me doing this.
Everyone believes I can do this.
I have to do this.
But how?
She grimaced at her horrible handwriting and the fact that nothing had changed overnight.
She’d never been the leader of an active, multi-unit military team. No one had. She had no rule book to follow and no role models. Worse yet, none all of the sage advice she’d received applied to her or her situation. After a lifetime of following in her fathers’ huge footsteps, their trail had ended.
She had to break her own trail. She had to face the unknown alone. Her stomach rolled over with anxiety. The screaming panic in her head rose to a nauseating pitch. If there had been a toilet nearby, she would have thrown up. She shook her head at her partner. Couldn’t he hear the screaming in her head?
She bit her lip. She fumbled in the dark for her backpack and took out her new Magic 8 Ball. The day everyone had died, she’d given the Magic 8 Ball she always carried, to her goddaughter and sister, Helene. As a good luck present, the girl had given her this Magic 8 Ball just before leaving for this mission. Now was the time to put it to use. She closed her eyes and asked the question:
Would she fail?
Turning the ball over, she peered in the window hoping to see her fortune. She saw only a dark cloud of sediment stuck to the other side of the transparent window. The black patch effectively blocked the fortune-telling die. She shook the ball to clear the window and asked again. The blue-black smudge blocked her view of the white die. She moved the Magic 8 Ball under the lamp to see if that would help. It didn’t.
Her anxiety rose. She tried again.
Nothing.
The Magic 8 Ball knew the truth but couldn’t tell her. Her way, the team’s way, was blocked from her view. She stuffed the ball back in her backpack.
“What did it say?” he asked.
Surprised by his voice, she jerked to look at him. He held out his hand. She took the Magic 8 Ball from her backpack and gave it to him. He turned it over.
“I see your concern,” he said.
“The answer is blocked,” she said. “All of the answers are out there… just out there…”
“Maybe you should focus on what you can control,” he said.
“Like what?”
“What can you control?” he sat up on his elbows.
“You.” She smiled.
He laughed.
“You’re smart and intuitive,” he said. “We’ve built a great team. You can trust them to be loyal as we face what we cannot know.”
He held out the ball to her. She stuffed it into her backpack. When he held out his arm, she couldn’t resist the lure of his warmth and safety. She lay down against him again.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said in her ear. “We’ll face it all together.”
She was glad he couldn’t see her face. The last men who’d said that to her had died under the streets of Paris three years ago.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said in her ear.
She looked up at him. He gave her a soft smile. She nodded and he lay down behind her. His arm held her tight. They lay together for a while before her computer dinged.
Her Sergeant’s face appeared on her netbook.
“Got the call,” Sergeant Dusty said. “It’s worse than you thought. A chopper’s warming for you.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” She stood and called over the plywood partitions, “Fey Team. It’s time.”
“Yes sir,” a few members of the team called from their rooms in the B-Hut.
“Time to move,” her second in command and old Fey Special Forces Team member, Major Joseph Walter said from the hallway.
“Get dressed,” Captain Matthew Mac Clenaghan said. “Go through your checklist and check your partner.”
“Body armor, full load,” Joseph said. “Five minutes.”
Joseph flicked on the B-Hut’s two overhead fluorescent lights.
“Jakkman?” Matthew asked. “There’s a helicopter with your name on it and some kid warming it up right now.”
“We’re on it,” Zack said. The door banged behind Captain Zack “The Jakker” Jakkman and his co-pilot Sergeant Cliff Mauer.
She sent an email to her superior officer while the team dressed then checked their partners for body armor and weapons. In teams of two, the men and women left the B-Hut until she and her partner were alone.
She dressed quickly. Her partner, Arthur “Raz” Rasmussen checked to make sure she was wearing her body armor and was armed. She went through the checklist with him.
“Sir?” Captain Andrew “Trece” Ramirez asked. “White Boy and I are waiting to escort you.”
Raz opened their plywood door for the large bodybuilders. She nodded to Trece. Trece and White Boy led the way out of the B-Hut. She glanced back at Raz and he nodded her forward.
Turning off the lights, Lieutenant Colonel Alexandra “the Fey” Hargreaves stepped out of the B-Hut and onto her own path.
F
CHAPTER ONE
Tuesday afternoon – 2:30 p.m.
Over Paktika Province, near Shkin
Afghanistan on the Pakistan border
“Raz! I need that satellite!” Alex said into her microphone.
They were flying fast in US Air Force Captain Zack “The Jakker” Jakkman’s favorite bird, a Pave Hawk helicopter, over Afghanistan. The President was keeping a campaign promise to visit the soldiers serving in Afghanistan. Since this President tended to be thorough, he insisted on visiting Paktika Province, the most dangerous province in Afghanistan. Everyone important had agreed that the President should not got to Paktika Province but the President had insisted. If the US military was stationed there, he would go there.
“Make it happen” rang down the chain of command. Everyone from the Secret Service to every branch of the military responded to protect the President. A plan was forged, modified, and worried over until it was finally approved. The President and his security flew to Afghanistan. The media heralded the trip as an enormous success.
No one talked to Alex about the trip. In fact, no one thought to ask her. As the head of the world’s best hostage extraction team, it made some sense that they wouldn’t ask her about the plan. But Alex was the creator and maintainer of the Fey maps. A fact that Brass tended to forget.
Alex knew the map for Paktika Province was wrong. Bordering Pakistan, the entire region had been remodeled by the war and activities of the Taliban and Al Qaeda. The changes weren’t significant enough to show on satellite imaging and certainly weren’t on any GPS map. Alex had heard about the changes from soldiers on the ground at FOB Sharana via the answering service, which she called the Map Phone. The Map Phone was the Intelligence Center’s solution for keeping the maps as up-to-date as possible. In order to know about the changes in Paktika Province, someone would have to speak to a person with intimate knowledge of the geography and a connection to the people on the ground. No one had asked Alex.
When she found out about the President’s adventure to Afghanistan, she’d immediately offered her team’s assistance – but was turned down flat.
“The Secret Service and US Army have this covered. They don’t need a cartographer and won’t need a hostage specialist. Thank you for calling.”
In response, she had arranged for a week’s leave for the team in places within a days travel of Afghanistan. She and her family had selected Corfu. Other team members spent time in Greece, Italy or other parts of Europe. When the President was being moved toward Paktika Province, they flew to FOB Sharana. She again offered her assistance and was again told, “Thanks but no thanks. Leave this to the boys.”
If nothing happened and the President arrived safely, the team would spend their time familiarizing themselves with the most dangerous region of Afghanistan. They’d brought plenty of vaccine drops to immunize kids. They also had enough rice and lentils to pave the way for friendly conversations. If something happened, they were close enough to help.
Something happened.
“Here’s your feed,” Raz said. “But I have to tell you, it’s slow. I guess everyone’s watching.”
Alex and Raz looked at the computer screen.
“Do you see what I see?” Alex asked. “I thought I saw it before the drone went down.”
“I see the President and his detail pinned down at the bottom of this canyon by at least four shooters scattered on mountain tops on both sides of the canyon,” Raz said. “The shooters seem to be in some kind of rock blind. They can’t see the shooters from the canyon floor.”
“Matthew? Joseph?” Alex passed the computer to her seconds in command. “What do you see?”
“Same thing,” Joseph said.
Alex passed the computer around.
“Does anyone see anything else?” Alex asked.
“What is the Lieutenant Colonel’s concern?” Matthew asked.
“Let’s just see if anyone else sees what I think I’m seeing,” Alex said.
Person after person peered at the computer until the laptop ended up on Troy’s lap. He glanced at the screen and looked at Alex.
“I see what Raz sees,” Troy said. “And… They aren’t shooting at the convoy. Look, this guy…”
Troy pointed to a man standing outside the convoy. He raised a long range rifle and fired a few shots.
“I could get him, easy,” Troy said. “He’s not even wearing a helmet. Easy kill shot through the eyes.”
Troy passed the computer to Alex’s younger brother, Homeland Security Agent and medic Agent Colin Hargreaves.
“The shooters in the blind aren’t even trying,” Colin said. He passed the laptop to US Marine Sergeant Margaret Peaches and pointed to the man.
“Hell, I think even Scully could make that shot,” Margaret laughed.
Her partner, US Marine and medic Sergeant Michael “MJ” Scully Jr., peered into the computer.
“You know, I think I could,” he laughed.
“Hey, check this,” Petty Officer Leena Carmichael said. “They’re shooting the dirt.”
“Let me see that,” Raz held his hands out and Leena passed the laptop across the aisle to him. “Now that you say it…”
“People only see what they expect to see,” Alex repeated one of her father, General turned Senator Patrick Hargreaves’ sayings. “The trick is to see…”
“What’s actually there,” her team responded.
“Exactly,” she smiled. “Can we pull back to see if the guys in the blinds could hit the convoy?”
Raz tapped a few buttons on the computer and they waited. Their view slowly widened. Troy crossed over to look at the computer.
“That guy could hit them,” Troy said. “Who are those guys? They’re lucky they aren’t dead.”
“Trece? White Boy? Do you know any of these guys?” Alex asked.
Part of a Black Ops team that provided security and solved problems, Trece and White Boy had more access to a variety of soldiers and soldiers for hire. The laptop was passed along to them.
“The Afghans?” Trece said.
“The people guarding the convoy,” Alex said.
“They look like private soldiers, contractors,” White Boy said. “We’ve run into that guy. Didn’t you go to training with him, Mattie?”
The laptop moved to Matthew. He peered at the computer.
“Hank Zutterberg,” Matthew said. “Remember him Alex?”
“I remember him,” Alex curled her lip. “I wonder if they could shoot him…”
“Zutterberg knows better than to go out of cover like that,” Troy said.
“What the hell’s going on?” Vince said.
“What exactly,” Alex said. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to drop in just behind these blinds. The shooters are so far forward that they won’t see us. We’re going to have a chat with the men in the blinds. Matthew, we need four teams. Joseph, determine what we need to bring. I’ll tell Zack.”
Alex unhooked herself from her headset and her seat. She walked up the small hallway to just behind the cockpit. Zack had been a constant in her life through Catholic school, as a pilot for the Fey Special Forces Team, and now as the pilot for her Fey team. He clicked on the speaker when she approached.
“How’s it going, Lieutenant Colonel?” Zack asked.
Alex pointed overhead and he nodded. He was connected to the Air Force feed.
“What’s our ETA?” Alex asked.
“Fifteen minutes,” Zack gestured for her to return to the compartment.
“We’ve decided to go where you suggested,” Alex said.
“That’s smart,” Zack said. “Parachute?”
“Map?” Alex nodded.
Zack’s navigator turned around and took the map Alex handed him. They spoke quietly for a moment and he nodded. He put the coordinates into the GPS system and shook his head. Alex pointed to the redrawn area which showed some of the changes in the region. He glanced at Zack and nodded. Alex smiled her thanks and returned to the compartment.
“What did Zack say?” Raz asked.
“He couldn’t,” Alex said. “Too many people on the line. We’re now at the center of a lot of attention.”
“I don’t like it,” Joseph said.
“I don’t like it either,” Alex said. “But it’s not like we can’t go. The President of the United States is down there!”
“Nearing target,” Zack’s co-pilot, US Air Force Clifford Mauer said over the intercom.
Lean on Me Page 1
