Operation Zulu Redemption--Complete Season 1

by Ronie Kendig

  “Are you my mother now?”

  “What is your problem, Téya? We’re a team. We need to have our heads in the game.”

  “My head is in the game,” Téya said. “I was able to ascertain your location and access to your room without arousing suspicion or trouble.”

  “You should have been with us.”

  “Well, I wasn’t.”

  Annie shoved her hands into her curly hair. “What is your problem?”

  “My problem is we have an assassin trying to take us out and we’re running all over the world, and being careless at that.” She snatched up her pack and stalked toward the door. “I want to stay alive.”

  “Where are you going now?”

  “To recon. To make sure you don’t get us killed.”

  Annie felt a primal growl rolling up her throat. But the hurt that came with Téya’s sharp words cut it short. What did I do to deserve that?

  “Hey.” Boone’s gruff voice pulled Annie around. “Focus on the mission. We need Ballenger. Need to know what he knows. Got it?”

  “I need her to be with me.”

  Boone pointed to Nuala. “You have her. That’s more than enough.” He went back to work setting up the surveillance equipment.

  Annie met Nuala’s gaze, not surprised to see the flush filling her face. “Sorry,” Annie said. “I didn’t mean to discount you.”

  “Oh, you didn’t,” Nuala said, lifting the DO NOT DISTURB sign from the door and putting it on the outside.

  Nuala was beaming. Positively beaming that Boone had noticed and affirmed her. Annie couldn’t help but smile that in the middle of what felt like a crumbling mission and team, there was the innocence of Nuala’s attraction to Boone. At the same time, Annie found it irritating. Lives were at stake.

  But Annie knew what it felt like to be a girl looking up to her handler. That’s how it had started with Trace—her desire to make him proud. Make him notice her.

  With two earpieces, Rusty came toward them. “Okay, we’re ready for you to head out.” He nodded toward the window, where a sheer curtain muted the sunlight. Two large devices were aimed out the window. One was a long-range scope, the other a powerful microphone receiver.

  If finding and meeting with Ballenger had gone simply and effectively last time, they wouldn’t be here in a surreptitious manner or skulking about a gorgeous British tourist hot spot.

  “Remember, we’re not here for anything other than to find him, talk to him, and get information,” Boone said, his expression dark. “Nuala, you got a nose for trouble. You sniff it, bail.”

  The girl breathed in his praise once more, lifting her shoulders and nodding with a thrust of her chin. How could Boone not see this beautiful girl? Of course, his mind was still weighted with the death of the girl he loved.

  Did he love her? Or was it like it was with Trace, where he could get what he wanted then—to borrow Boone’s word—bail?

  Annie hated herself for thinking that. The thought was birthed from her own pain. Her own tragedy. The one she’d carry alone and to her grave. He didn’t need to know. Wouldn’t know.

  “I’ll want a high vantage,” Nuala said. “Down by the pier, I saw some sidewalk cafés that had balconies. I think we’d be able to see the apartment building. Watch for him to come or go.”

  “Good,” Boone said. “Go with it.”

  Impressed with Nuala’s uncanny ability to act natural and scope a place at the same time, Annie made her way down to the lobby with Nuala. When they stepped back onto the bricked path bustling with tourists, Annie hesitated.

  Nuala didn’t—she headed to the right and snapped photos as she went.

  With a hop-step to keep up, Annie chided herself. She was letting herself get distracted with heart matters. Time to get her head in the game. Put her heart on the shelf.

  Nuala had them seated at a wrought-iron table in less than ten minutes, with the narrowest part of the English Channel to their right, which faced France, and the building that housed Ballenger’s flat looming to the left. Cantilevered windows allowed fresh air into the apartments but also dated the structure. It was older, a throwback to the ’70s with its sleek, harsh lines and lots of steel and glass. They ordered orange marmalade scones and tea. Soaking up the sun was a nice benefit of working a mission, but after a full lunch their skin was turning pink—okay, Annie’s was turning pink. Nuala had this gorgeous, enviable bronze glow that went well with her almost olive complexion.

  “Okay,” Nuala said. “Ballenger’s flat, supposedly, is on the third floor, end closest to the channel.”

  Annie cautiously sipped the steaming tea as she let her gaze hit the spot. And realized a fatal flaw in their plan. From this angle, Boone and Rusty couldn’t see it, right? “The view is blocked,” Annie said, glancing at the apartments then the water so a passerby would think she was referring to the building.

  “Negative,” Boone said. “We’re clear.”

  The corner of Nuala’s lips curled up. “My measurements were right then?” Her tone was a bit audacious. Almost saucy.

  “Copy that, Noodle.” Surprisingly, there was a smile in Boone’s voice.

  She smiled at Annie. “I found the one hotel that had a perfect line of sight on the corner apartment. Boone thought the bank would block it.”

  “Show off,” Boone said.

  Nuala glowed, not from the midafternoon sun, but from Boone’s praise.

  “Okay.” Boone’s voice tickled through the earpiece. “Just heard from Téya. Landlady said the flat’s been leased for years, but she can’t remember the last time she saw the tenant.”

  “Copy,” Annie said as she lifted her napkin to wipe her lips.

  “Let’s check it out,” Boone said.

  Nuala

  After paying their bill, Nuala headed down the brick path to the sidewalk skirting the English Channel with Annie, a good compatriot, if she could keep her head in the game. Which she hadn’t. Not since she’d been liplocked with the commander. Nuala had to admit, it was weird but good to see them like that. They’d been an item before Misrata, and stumbling upon them together again gave her hope for a bright future, where the team fought terrorists and evil the way they had six years ago.

  Choppy waters of the channel churned and writhed, as if in agony. Nuala could only pray this wasn’t a portent of doom—what with the stormy sky adding its gloomy touch.

  They stepped into the scant shade of the building, and Nuala said, “Entering now.” It was protocol, but it also meant she was talking to Boone. She ached for him, for his loss. Nuala hated seeing him grieve, hated that Keeley had been taken from him. Some people might call her dishonest because of how much she cared for him for saying that, but she truly just wanted Boone happy. He was a good man, and he deserved to be happy.

  They made it through the nondescript lobby. Her sniper training had her itching for a high elevation or vantage point, but that wasn’t possible. She’d have to make do. She spotted the door marked STAIRS and pointed it out to Annie then pushed it open.

  Téya, who’d been sitting on the cement steps, pushed to her feet, without so much as a greeting. She climbed the steps one ahead of Nuala and Annie. “I thought he wanted to talk to us.”

  “Seems a common problem,” Annie said, her words no doubt targeted toward Téya, who didn’t bat an eye or miss a step at the rebuke. She also didn’t spout off a comeback, contrary to her character.

  And that made Nuala wonder. There was a lot about a person that changed during trying or difficult times, but Téya seemed like a completely different person.

  “Third floor,” Nuala said into her coms as they stepped into a long, narrow corridor that only offered doors and no other view save the anemic, barred window at the end.

  They moved down the hall that had been recently renovated—well, painted over was more accurate. Previous peeling spots left impressions beneath the new gray paint. The carpet smelled musty and of pet urine.

  “Copy that. We have you
on thermals,” Boone’s calm, deep voice relayed. “Looking good, Zulu.”

  Eyes out. That’s what he’d say next.

  “Eyes out. Stay alert.”

  Nuala smiled as she made her way down to the apartment. On the right. Because odds were on the right. “Copy. Entering now.” She lifted the tool from her back pocket and easily picked her way into the door. Benefit of old, rundown apartments, thankyouverymuch. “We’re in,” she said.

  “Roger,” Boone said. “We have you on the scope.”

  Some might find it creepy that they were being watched from a half mile away. She found it comforting. An added layer of protection.

  “The place is messed up,” Téya said.

  “How so?” Rusty asked.

  “It’s old…” Annie wrinkled her nose then swept her hand over it. “Musty and dusty.”

  Nuala walked the perimeter of the living room, taking in the motheaten sofa and its pillows. The rug that had a thick layer of dust. Probably mites, too. A crunch beneath her boot made her wince when she saw the droppings. Rats. She shuddered.

  Keeping her arms close to her side, she dreaded the thought of touching anything. “Alpha One, this is…wrong,” she said.

  Annie started for the bedrooms.

  “Explain,” Boone said.

  “I don’t think anyone’s been here in years,” she said.

  “She’s right,” Téya said with a gruff tone. “He set this place up and left it so there’d be a record, but nobody’s been in here in ages.”

  “This means he lied to us in Paris, too.”

  “When hasn’t he lied to us?” Téya said. “I’m out of here.”

  “Do you think we should look for—”

  “Planted evidence? Fake trails? That’s all we’ll find here,” Téya said and strode toward the door.

  Defeat clung to Nuala as she had to agree with Téya’s conclusion. This place was a front for the lies Berg Ballenger wanted them to believe. “She’s right,” Nuala conceded. “We won’t find anything here.”

  “It feels wrong to just leave without looking.” Annie stood in the living room, glancing around.

  “If you want to dig through rat droppings, be my guest,” Téya said as she left the apartment.

  “There she goes again,” Annie said with a huff. “What is wrong with her? You know what? I’m sick of this. She’s going to answer some questions!” And with that Annie burst out of the apartment, too.

  “Alpha One,” Nuala spoke to Boone, with a long sigh of resignation. “Do I stay and investigate?”

  “Negative. We’ll have a team sweep it and box everything up—except the droppings. Pull out. RTB. We have more important things to worry about right now than finding rats.”

  “Finding the big rat,” Nuala muttered. Berg Ballenger.

  “Roger that. See you back here.”

  Nuala made her way back down to the street, where she found Téya and Annie arguing by the roped-off barrier that provided little protection against someone falling into the channel.

  “You don’t leave your team.”

  “Do I have a team?” Téya snapped back. “Because all we seem to be doing is chasing rats and pigs, and getting nowhere. We sit in a bunker and drive each other crazy. You and Trace can’t behave like adults in front of us—and even in front of the hunky SEAL you were so gung-ho about when you showed up at the bunker two months ago. Nuala is crazy about Boone and giving him doe eyes all the time, but really—are we a team?”

  Nuala’s stomach dropped to her toes. The words hurt. Deeply. But it hurt even more that Boone probably heard them.

  “We’re trying. At least some of us are!”

  A glint north of their location snagged Nuala’s attention. Seemed like a rifle scope. But that wouldn’t—there! It hit her gaze again. Where was it? If she didn’t know better… “Alpha One…” Maybe it was nothing.

  “RTB. All of you,” Boone barked.

  The glint glared directly in her eyes this time. Nuala squinted and jerked away. This time, she’d spotted him atop a building. “Shooter! Rooftop!”

  Téya

  Annie pitched forward, right into Téya as Nuala’s words seared the air. A scream closely followed. Then a splash. Glass nearby exploded. Frenzied shouts and running tourists created upheaval in the setting that had only moments before been the epitome of calm.

  “Nuala!” Annie shouted, diving behind a trash can with Téya. They scanned the waters, waiting for the girl to surface.

  “Was she shot?” Téya asked.

  “I don’t know. She just went in.” Annie’s voice carried the same panic that thumped in Téya’s chest.

  A head broke the surface. Nuala gasped, her face screwed tight in pain.

  “What’s going on?” Boone shouted through the coms.

  “Active shooter,” Téya said, scanning the direction of the shots. She had to try to move to draw fire in order to locate the shooter. She scurried to a metal table and flung it on its side. She dropped behind it, disappointed when there’d been no shots. That meant finding the shooter would be more difficult.

  Téya worked through the angles. Through the trajectory of the shots. Determined they had to be either in the bakery building or the lighthouse. Any farther would be too far for accuracy. Any closer…well, that’d be too easy, because then Zulu would’ve seen him.

  A man emerged from the bakery with a pastry in hand.

  “I think I see him,” Téya said.

  “Berg! That’s Berg Ballenger,” Annie yelled, pointing in the opposite direction.

  Téya whipped around, scanning the others. “Where?”

  “Brown jacket. Running up the street.”

  Téya caught sight of him. “Got him. I’m going.” But then she remembered Nuala and looked back. “Are you okay?”

  Annie was leaning over the embankment, reaching for Nuala. “Yes. Go!”

  “In pursuit,” Téya called through the coms. “He’s heading east through the town.”

  “Alpha Two is en route,” Boone said, indicating Rusty was leaving the nest to assist. “I have eyes on the target.”

  Good. Because once he’d rounded that corner, she lost him for the few seconds it took her to break into the open. She kept moving, but having lost him, she slowed.

  “Ahead, twenty yards. Blue shirt now.”

  Blue shirt. Great. Not like that would blend in or anything. But then Téya had him. “Got him!” Téya sprinted, darting around a jewelry vendor in the middle of the street. A cart of delicious-looking candies. She narrowly avoided a collision with a small girl who darted away from her mother. Téya spun around her but never took her eyes off Ballenger. Spry for a guy with a paunch.

  He’d reached the fountain. Skirted it.

  Téya leaped onto the three-foot wall around the fountain. Sailed over a little boy bending forward, splashing the water. Landed.

  Berg dodged a family with ice cream. Pushing him closer to the fountain.

  Téya threw herself at him. A man ducked with a shout as she sailed over him, too. Straight into Ballenger. They collided. He let out what sounded like a gargled scream. Before he could react, Téya flipped him onto his stomach. Pressed her shoulder into his. Grabbed his arm and swung it behind his back and up.

  He cried out.

  All too aware of the crowd of onlookers, Téya knew she had to get out of the open. “We’re getting up,” she hissed into his ear. “If you try anything, I will end you.”

  He groaned in pain.

  “Clear?”

  He nodded and grimaced again.

  She hauled him to his feet just as Rusty arrived and used some zip cuffs to secure him. They turned him around, and Téya froze. “It’s not him,” she breathed, disbelief choking off clear thought. The man had the same hair color and build as Ballenger, but this definitely wasn’t him.

  “What’d you mean?” Rusty still held the look-alike.

  “Where is he?” Téya demanded.

  The man sneered. Gav
e a breathy laugh, still winded from the escape attempt. Which—was it even an attempt to escape? Or an attempt to draw them away from something else?

  “Boone—you still have eyes on One and Six?” she asked into her coms piece.

  “Roger. They’re en route. Bring him back here,” Boone said. “We’ll sort it here.”

  They herded him out of the square and up into the hotel, chewing on the fact Ballenger had not just tricked them, but put energy and resources into luring them away. Making them look and feel stupid.

  The door opened, and Téya saw Nuala sitting on the dinette table with her shirt removed and her tank affording Boone a good angle to mend the wound. Boone shoved to his feet and stalked toward them. “Who are you?”

  “Nobody,” the man said with a cocky chip on his shoulder. One Téya really wanted to punch off.

  Boone did it for her. He threw a hard right, straight into the guy’s face. He grabbed him and pinned him against the wall. “Okay, Nobody, you’re going to answer questions.”

  A crooked, bloody smile crept into his arrogance. “I’m not, actually.”

  Hauling back for another punch, Boone looked ready to kill the guy.

  “Wait,” Téya said as she caught Boone’s arm. She pushed him back. Slapped her hands against the guy’s chest. “Ballenger sent you.”

  Something…wrong, something dark glinted in the man’s eyes. “I was sent.”

  “Why are you here?” Téya asked.

  “I live here.”

  “Why were you at Ballenger’s flat? You don’t live there. That place had more droppings than slum alleys.”

  His eyes widened. “You went to the flat?”

  Téya didn’t like that look. “Why?”

  He shook his head. “It’s been rigged for years. If anyone enters it, they’re alerted.”

  “Who?”

  “HOMe, their lackeys! I’m to deliver a message. He said you’d come.” That greedy gleam replaced the man’s momentary shock.

  “What message?” Boone demanded, hovering behind Téya.

  “He says you need to focus on a man named Varden.”

  Boone stiffened.

  Téya glanced at the big guy. “That mean something to you?”

  With a lunge, Boone shoved the man toward the door.