Operation Zulu Redemption--Complete Season 1

by Ronie Kendig

  Rustling fabric drew him around. He stuffed out a hand to Rusty and gave a nod. “How you holding up?”

  “Good,” Rusty said, his voice low but not a whisper. He held up a book. “Keeping the brain busy.” He raised his eyebrows toward the TV hanging in the opposite corner. “News, History Channel, and Military Channel fill in the gaps when things get too quiet.”

  “They have that up here?”

  Rusty smirked. “Not hardly. I rig up my iPad to the TV and stream via my Wi-Fi.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “INSCOM’s footing the bill since I’m tasked on guard.”

  “Smart man.” Boone hauled in a deep breath and shifted his gaze to the woman who’d stolen his heart years ago. “When you come back to the bunker, you’ll have to show us how to do that. All we get is soaps and the public access channel.”

  Rusty’s expression faltered.

  Boone tilted his head. “What?”

  Rusty glanced down at the book. “I’m…” He squared his shoulders. “I’m not coming back.” Bending the edges of the book together, he seemed sheepish. A description Boone never would have connected to Rusty. “I told Trace I can’t do this. Not again.”

  “But the girls—the team. We need you.” Boone surveilled the hall beyond the windows as he talked. “They’re in real danger. Someone’s hunting them. We need your help—”

  “No.” Rusty lowered his head. “I did it once, Boone. But after what happened, after those children…” He gave two long swags of his head. “I just can’t go there again.”

  Boone wanted to wrap his fingers around the guy’s neck and squeeze till he saw straight. Saw right. “You’re bailing on them.”

  Rusty met his gaze evenly. “I gave my notice. You don’t have to worry—I’m here. I’ll watch over Keeley. But after she’s gone”—when Boone reacted, Rusty held up a hand—“discharged, I meant. When she’s discharged, I’m out.”

  “Never saw you for chicken.” Boone couldn’t keep the snarl or the anger from his voice.

  “Honestly,” Rusty said, his blue eyes sparked with determination, “me either. Misrata changed things…changed me. Decision’s been made.”

  Did he need to remind the guy he’d signed up to be the handler for two of the girls? It hit Boone then—Candice had been Rusty’s “student.” He’d trained her, mentored her, just as Boone had trained and mentored Jessie and Nuala. As Trace had done with Téya and Annie. “Did it get personal for you and one of the girls?”

  Rusty snorted. “Intensely—we lived and breathed war with them for the six months they were Zulu. Since then, I’ve lived, breathed, dreamed, eaten that tragedy. It’s with me everywhere I turn. Every snooze I take.” He scratched the side of his face. “I’m not looking to add ammo to the nightmares, y’know?”

  Boone knew. He knew very well. But leaving the team…abandoning them in their time of need…it just seemed wrong.

  “Don’t give me that look,” Rusty said.

  Boone held up his hands. “Hey. Your call.”

  “But you think it’s wrong.”

  “You don’t want or need me to answer that.” Boone grunted. “Do what you have to, but thank you for holding out till Keeley is better. I can focus on the team, on figuring out what’s happening, knowing you’re here with her.”

  “Did it get personal, Boone-Dawg?”

  He smirked at Rusty for throwing the question back at him. After giving him a backhanded swat on the shoulder, Boone said, “Get some rest.”

  Alone with his thoughts and Keeley, Boone moved the chair to the side of the bed. Pressing his knuckles against the mattress, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Hey, beautiful. You can come back to me any day now, ya hear?”

  He settled into the chair, lifted the book from where he’d tucked it into the small of his back beneath his belt and jeans, and started reading—but not before double-checking that nobody was listening. If this got back to Trace…

  Boone cleared his throat and flipped to chapter five. “ ‘In the course of time, Mr. Earnshaw began to fail. He had been active and healthy….’” Boone shot a furtive glance to the windows then to Keeley. “Can we skip the death and failing stuff?”

  Probably not. Keeley was fastidious. Attentive to detail. Just as Jessie had been with that crazy data wall. Had Jess figured out anything? He sure hadn’t, and that was the burr under his saddle. Someone had found the girls despite meticulous, laborious efforts to hide them. And he and Trace weren’t any closer to figuring out who was behind it all.

  “ ‘… he grew grievously irritable. A nothing vexed him….’ ” Boone grunted. “You and me both, Earnshaw.”

  Arlington National Cemetery

  Arlington County, Virginia

  10 May – 0615 Hours

  Sunlight stretched over the rows of headstones, caressing the arched tops with loving warmth as it reached for the two men standing on the road that wrapped through the countless rows of heroes’ headstones.

  “The world is a different place. Our country is a different place today than when I signed up forty years ago, Haym.” Wistful and soft, the voice of the four-star general settled quietly amid the thick dew covering the field of green.

  Haym Solomon nodded. “Changes every day.” His gaze trailed a sleek black sedan gliding along a road, slowly. Solemnly. As it should be. “But one thing remains the same.”

  The four-star grunted. “The hearts of the warriors willing to defend this great country.”

  Hands folded behind his back in a sign of respect and, in a way, submission.

  “We chose this as our meeting ground for a reason.” The man glanced to his right and met Haym’s gaze. “Remember?”

  “I do.”

  Chest drawn up, the four-star let out a long breath. “So we never forget that we are dealing with lives. With heroes’ lives. So that we remember every time we consider sending them out, they might not return to the homes that sent them off.” He gave a nod to the fields that dignified the lives of those who’d made the ultimate sacrifice. “They could end up here.”

  Somber and depressing. Frustrating. Would that he could put a defensive shield around each warrior who stepped into harm’s way so those back home didn’t have to. Protect those willing to take a bullet for those too cowardly to even acknowledge the enemy.

  “But I take it you’re not here because you wanted a philosophy.” The four-star stabbed a finger toward the Lincoln Town Car waiting at the end of the lane and started walking.

  A subtle but powerful way to say Haym had only a few minutes. Time to dispense with the pleasantries. “It’s happening—they found them.”

  “We knew it was only a matter of time.”

  “I’d hoped for more time.”

  Laughter bellowed across the serene setting, almost upsetting the mood. “Don’t we all.” He pointed to the white headstones engraved with rank, name, birth date, and date of death. On the back, perhaps what branch the hero served. What combat theaters they’d seen. “I’m sure every one of these men and women would’ve asked for more time.”

  “I have two more bodies to bury.”

  Gray-white eyebrows, thick and springing up over the rim of the four-star’s glasses, raised. “And the person responsible?”

  “Still out there.”

  They reached the car as the driver stepped out and opened the door. “Time for containment, Haym.”

  “Yes, sir. We’ll need—”

  “You have whatever you need. Just keep me updated and get this resolved. It’s been hanging over your head long enough.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Haym hesitated. Debated the words sitting on his tongue.

  “Well, go on. I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Sir, respectfully—”

  “Bah. Don’t start with that crap. Just give it to me.”

  “Sir.” Haym mustered the dregs of his courage. “If they found them, then—”

  “I see.” With one leg in the car and his hands resting on the top
of the door frame, the four-star squinted toward the rising sun. “We have a problem.” He clicked his tongue. “I promise you, whoever or however this happened, they will not be able to betray anyone again.”

  Téya

  Lucketts, Virginia

  10 May – 0830 Hours

  Scooting back and resting against the cement wall, feet up on the edge of the bunk, Téya savored the time alone. Grateful there were enough bunk rooms that they could each have some privacy, and yet… If Candice and Jessie had lived…well, they’d have to cozy up. Which she’d gladly do if it meant bringing them back.

  But that was just it. They couldn’t come back. A heavy darkness hovered over them now, the threat of death a constant. But the threat to their loved ones proved oppressive. She could handle getting shot at. She signed up for that. But Grossmammi and David…

  She unfolded the piece of paper and stared at the picture of David in the hospital. Leg elevated and IVs digging into his arm, he looked…awful. In pain. His smile was gone. The lightheartedness that had always drawn her to the man, nowhere to be found.

  What have I done?

  Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the wall. Tried to remember the good times. The time of the quiet life that was by no means easy but had a simplicity to it that drew her in like a heat-seeking missile.

  She snorted at the comparison. Thinking about Amish living and she uses a violent analogy.

  The mattress shifted under a weight, snapping Téya’s eyes open. “What…?”

  Annie sat at her feet and tugged the paper so she could see it. “Stole it, huh?”

  Téya lifted the picture. “Copied, actually.” She shrugged. “They took him away from me, so this is my recompense.”

  Annie’s brows flickered, as if in question or concern.

  But Téya wasn’t up to discussion. Folding the paper, she slid to the edge, next to Annie. “They find anything?”

  “Hey.” Annie’s voice grew firmer. “You do know you’re not the only one who lost their new life, right?”

  “Did your boyfriend get shot and beat to a pulp?”

  Annie eyed her, blue eyes twinkling. “No, Sam would’ve put his SEAL skills to work and taken them down.”

  “Yeah?” Téya pushed to her feet and stuffed the picture in the back pocket of her jeans. “Well, David’s a sweet, hardworking farmer. He didn’t deserve what they did to him.”

  Annie stood. Touched her arm. “None of us deserved what they did.” Determination hardened the lines around her lips. “Our job is to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “And how do we do that if we don’t even know who we’re after?”

  “We keep looking.”

  Téya didn’t know whether to nod or shake her head. Instead, she pushed past her friend and combat buddy. “I need some fresh air.”

  “Remember, stay out of sight,” Annie called.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Téya flinched at her own sarcasm, but she wasn’t in kindergarten. This wasn’t her first rodeo, to use a cliché phrase. She’d been through combat. She’d been in war. She didn’t need Annie smothering her with rules, remonstrations, and chiding. In fact, she didn’t need or want that from anyone.

  She slipped through the narrow passage and climbed the stairs.

  “Téya.” Boone’s voice reverberated off the steel. “Where you going?”

  “Topside.”

  “Stay out of sight.”

  “No, I thought I’d go dance in the middle of the road.” Téya grunted as she pushed her way outside. A cool breeze wafted across the rolling hills. She took in a deep, steadying breath. And let it out, savoring the country smell. So much like Bleak Pond. The cows, the pastures, the sloping landscape…

  She heard the door creak open behind her and knew she’d been followed. Téya stalked toward the barn, desperate for some solitude. The realization struck her funny. Growing up and even when she first joined the Army, she’d thrived on the camaraderie. Craved companionship. Had the five years in Bleak Pond quieted something in her?

  Dimness embraced her as she stepped onto the soft bed of hay. She blinked, adjusting to the reduced amount of light. To her left, she spotted a ladder nailed to the wall and leading to a loft. Perfect. She climbed up and walked to the farthest corner. Through the slats she could see Boone standing in the doorway. Please…just go away.

  It took awhile, but he finally did. And Téya savored the solitude. Tried to quiet the churning within. The grief that she caused David to get hurt. Would he ever forgive her?

  You’re a soldier! He’ll get over it.

  But she hadn’t asked for this life back. She’d wanted Bleak Pond. Wanted the slower pace, the…innocence.

  Though she spent hours in the loft, Téya didn’t find the peace of mind she sought. Only one way to find that: talk to David.

  Climbing down, she scoffed at her own thoughts. Right. Going back to David? He’d never speak to her again.

  Maybe if she explained things…begged his forgiveness…

  But then she’d have to come back here. At least until those responsible were found. Which could be years.

  No, she couldn’t wait that long. She had to talk to David. Explain things to him. Then he’d accept her back. Forgive her for leaving him. That could take months. Would he understand? If she was completely honest…would he be that forbearing?

  Téya weaved between the vehicles parked inside the barn…and slowed. She glanced at the older model truck. Maybe…maybe she didn’t have to wait after all.

  Unknown Location

  10 May – 0900 Hours

  They hid. And they hid well. But he was better. Nothing like a game of wits when the odds are so evenly stacked. Annoyance cluttered his mind and his ability to function like a rational being. He glanced at the Patek Phillippe on his wrist and grunted. Already the tenth of May. Crowding the schedule a bit with three of them still alive. One mostly alive. That would be remedied.

  He lifted the brandy snifter and crossed the penthouse, staring out over the city through the wall of windows. Sipping, he took in the heady aroma of the brandy, the smell of oak and caramel. With that not-so-subtle fire that spreads through the stomach. He also took in the progress.

  Correction: lack of progress.

  At least he was doing better than Solomon or his lackey, Weston. The two had been chasing their tails since Misrata. He chuckled. A shame, that. Though he’d give them an A for effort. They had failed. Miserably.

  That suited him fine. But really, he’d expected more. More fight. More drama. More pressure. Instead, he’d worked channels and connections, recruited hackers, bribed underpaid government workers, and gotten exactly the information he wanted. Needed. The names of the team members who’d come to shut him down.

  Imagine his surprise when the names turned out to be all women.

  Who does that? Who sends women in to kill children?

  He sniggered. Not that they realized they were killing children, but weren’t women supposed to have some maternal instinct to protect the little menaces?

  But he’d had enough. Enough of their ignorance. Once he’d gathered the final name, he’d struck. It wouldn’t have done to hit them as they were discovered. The dopes wouldn’t have put the puzzle together, that they were targeted. It would’ve seemed random.

  Had it looked as such, they wouldn’t be hunting him. And where was the fun in that?

  Now, things had heated up. The game, as Sherlock liked to say, is afoot.

  Most essential when targeting your enemy is to know your enemy. And he did. Boy did he ever know his enemy. More than they’d ever realize—and when they made the discovery, they’d be ashamed.

  He turned and walked to the guest room. Scanned the walls. In other rooms hung paintings by Delacroix, Runge—and his favorite, a Regency and Medieval painter: Leighton. But here, in the second guest room hung prints by…the copier. Fax machine. U.S. government. Images of the women who’d destroyed what should have been a lucrative ventur
e. Women on whose hands he’d painted the blood of innocent children. Women who would die in due course.

  Four were left now. One was an easy fix. A wrong concoction in her IV and bye-bye Miss American Pie. But the others…they were alert to his mission. Wary of contact. Except Téya Reiker. He nursed another sip of the brandy, savoring the fire as he peered into the one-dimensional green eyes. A beauty—not as pretty as Annie, but her beauty wasn’t skin deep—it was her heart. The fire in her, much like the one sliding through his belly from the liquor. Téya. Yes, she would be next, he was sure of it.

  The gray phone rang, drawing him from the thoughts of revenge and retaliation. It sat on the table amid a myriad of papers, the virtual imprint left behind by the ladies. That phone wasn’t a social call. It was a promising call.

  Finally.

  He set down the snifter and lifted the phone. “Good news, I hope.”

  “You were right. She’s here.”

  “See? This is why women shouldn’t be in the military or on the front lines. They can’t disengage their hearts.” Lighthearted laughter tugged at his heart—it was too easy. Far too easy. They didn’t have a prayer. “You know what to do.”

  Téya

  Lancaster, Pennsylvania

  10 May – 1400 Hours

  He’d been out cold since she entered his room. Téya did something she’d have never done in Bleak Pond—she held his hand. Strong, calloused hands that were no stranger to hard work. In a way, they’d both been outcasts among the community. David with his license and car. She with her past.

  “I wish I could have told you,” she whispered. Tears blurred her vision as she thought of how that might have gone down, telling him she had been a soldier, that she’d belonged to an elite team of female soldiers who were the first to take a SOCOM assignment. A team with incredible talent.

  The door clicked open. Téya set David’s hand down and slipped her hands to her side as she met the gaze of the nurse.

  “Are you family?” the nurse asked, moving to the IV tower, checking the levels, then recording them.