Devlin's Defiance: Book Two of the Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  Becky whispered into her mike, “We're up top, Fiona.”

  “I see you. All still – uh-oh; got someone coming toward you along the east wall; should be rounding the corner in five.”

  Cam whispered, “I got him,” as she ran quietly toward the corner, then stood with her back to the wall, alert to the sound of footsteps approaching.

  When the figure turned the corner, she noticed the monk's robe he was wearing just as she struck him across the face with her pistol. The man fell with a groan, struggling to regain his footing and reaching under his robe, but Cam hit him again on the back of his head and he lay still.

  “One down, Becks.”

  “Copy that, Cam.”

  “Roger that. All clear again.”

  As Cam turned to rejoin her partner, the man reached out and slashed at her ankle with a large knife he'd extracted from under his robe, but Cam's boot deflected the blow.

  Cam swung around and put a bullet from her silenced pistol right into the man's widow's peak. This time he lay completely still, blood pooling on the ledge under his head.

  “One down for good now.”

  “Bravo, Cam.”

  “Roger that. Looking clear along your wall and the west one.”

  Cam picked up the knife and stuck it in her belt, dragged the body around the corner, then pulled out a pack of C4 with a remote detonator and slid it under the corpse's robes, between its knees. She also stuck a small metal box to the wall.

  “First pack and DV-894 in place.”

  “Roger that, Cam.”

  “Let's go, Becks.”

  With that, Cam joined Becky at the west end of the wall and they rounded the corner, weapons at the ready. They could see nobody all the way to the north end of that wall.

  Becky attached another pack of C4 to the outside corner of the west wall, whispered, “Second pack placed,” and the two ran quietly to the north end of the wall.

  Becky peeked around the corner and saw another man in monk's robes leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. An automatic rifle leaned against the wall beside him.

  One silenced bullet from her machine pistol dropped him, dead before his body hit the ground.

  “Two down for good.”

  “Roger that, Becks. 16 to go, plus the target.”

  “Copy, Fiona.”

  Becky and Cam ran past the body, on to the 15-foot-tall wooden doors, and stuck two more C4 packs, one on each door, about three feet from the ground and next to the crack between them.

  They ran back to the body, dragged it and the rifle around the corner, and kneeled down next to it.

  Becky picked up the rifle, set it to auto and fired three rounds into the dirt about fifteen feet in front of the door. She waited five seconds and fired another burst, this one into the dirt five feet in front of herself.

  Ten seconds later, the front doors creaked open and men in monk's robes carefully stepped out, automatic rifles at the ready.

  Becky pulled a small metal box from a pocket and pressed a button, and the sound of gunfire echoed from the opposite corner of the monastery.

  Seven of the men rushed away from the doors to the far corner of the building, led by one man wearing his own night vision goggles. They paused there until the leader beckoned them to follow him around the corner.

  “All yours, Fiona. Seven hostiles.”

  “Roger that, Becks. Seven hostiles. Got 'em.”

  Three men in monk's robes remained at the door, one with night vision goggles, all on full alert, automatic rifles at the ready.

  “Your call, Becks.”

  “Copy that, Cam. On three. One, two, three.”

  Three silenced rounds exploded the heads of the three men, and a moment later, the sound of an explosion echoed around the walls of the monastery, followed after a moment by Fiona's voice.

  “Shit! Only got five of 'em. The other two are only stunned, starting to get back up.”

  “I'll check,” Cam said and ran back to the corner by the ledge, peeking around, then pulling back.

  “Are they up, Fiona?”

  “Nope; still scrambling.”

  “Copy.” Cam then ran along the ledge toward the east corner, but when she was only halfway there, Fiona's voice came thru her earbuds.

  “Now they're up and they've split up, one going back to the front of the building, one heading your way.”

  “Copy that, Fiona.”

  - 6 -

  November 12, 2012

  1:33 p.m. local time

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  Another gorgeous fall day on the Gulf, clear blue skies, air temp 83, water temp 76, and a water-warming seabreeze that had begun about noon. The beach was crowded, both due to the Veterans' Day holiday and the typical autumn arrivals of snowbirds for “season.”

  "So, Gordy, what do you think about the election?”

  “C'mon, Janet, you know better than to ask him that.”

  “Now, Norm, it's still a free country. I can ask him, but he doesn't have to answer.”

  “Got that right, Janet … on both counts. I'll just say this. The result was not unexpected. The guy sure knows how to campaign.”

  “So did you vote for him?”

  “Sorry, Janet, that one's off limits. You know I won't answer that.”

  “Can't blame a girl for trying, can ya?”

  “Nah, not at all. You do keep me on my toes.”

  “So how ya doing on the sequel?”

  “On the wha- – oh, right. It's coming along, still early.”

  “I heard Rosemary's back.”

  “Oh. Hope she had a good summer.”

  “Seen her yet?”

  “Nope. But I've gotta get outa the water now; I can feel my body temp has dropped a degree and my finger botox has worn off.”

  He filled his bag with water, went up to his PVC lounge, sat down, rinsed the sand off his feet and pulled out his spiral notebook, where he wrote “Glenda,” “Kufstein, Austria” and “Bolzano, Italy.”

  Then he lit a small light cigar with his magnifying glass, lay down and closed his eyes, a smile playing across his lips.

  - 7 -

  November 13, 2012

  2:41 a.m. local time

  80 feet above the Aegean Sea

  Automatic fire sounded as one of the two survivors came around the corner, spraying bullets randomly in front of him. A silenced burst from Cam's pistol dropped him in his tracks. She ran up to him and fired another bullet into the back of his head, then ducked around the corner and checked the carnage of the other five blown-apart bodies.

  “Six down for good, Fiona.”

  Becky took out the other survivor as he came into the open, looking for his compatriots who were no longer standing guard at the doors.

  “What is that, Becks, ten?”

  “Uh, seven plus three plus the first two. Twelve.“

  “So four to go, plus the target.”

  “No, Cam, six to go, plus the target.”

  “Six, right. Copy that. Let's draw a few more out. I'm coming up to the corner, Becks. Don't shoot me.”

  “Copy that, Cam. Ah, okay. Wait, wait; go back around the corner and hold.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Good.” Becky fired several more rounds from the automatic rifle, aiming for the dirt right in front of the doors, and then pulled back around the corner, waiting.

  After a moment, she peeked around and saw two monks with night vision goggles belly-crawling out from the doors, scanning the areas in front of them and to both sides.

  She fired three rounds from her pistol, hitting the man closest to her.

  “Now, Cam; all yours.”

  As the second monk rose up to look over his partner's body, Cam stepped out and hit him with a single bullet to the back of his head.

  “Now it's four to go, Becks.”

  “At least one staying with the target, maybe two. So we've got two or three to deal with next.

  “Fiona, can you see any
of 'em?”

  “Nope, sorry; the IR can't see through the stone.”

  “Copy that.

  “Cam, let's just wait and see what they do.”

  “Like Melbourne.”

  “I hope not that long. Let's give 'em three minutes.”

  Less than a minute later, automatic fire sprayed down out of one of the windows on the west wall, forcing Becky to duck around the corner to the front of the building. Another spray of bullets from a window on the east wall pushed Cam around her corner, as well.

  Cam and Becky both slid their weapons around the corner, firing on full auto up and along the windows. Cam was rewarded with a scream from above and the thunk of a rifle bouncing on the stone walkway below. When she glanced around the corner, she saw a hand and part of a forearm still grasping the weapon.

  “That was close, Cam. Are you hit?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “Took one in the chest, but hardly felt it. Love this new vest. I'm good.”

  “Watch the door; bet they'll be shooting from there.”

  “Let 'em try; they'll be sorry.”

  - 8 -

  November 12, 2012

  2:33 p.m. local time

  Honolulu, Hawaii, USA

  "Where would you like it, Wakagashira-san? Am I pronouncing that right?”

  “Close enough. Over on that pedestal by the staircase. And have it facing out toward the ocean.”

  “Yes, Wakagashira-san.”

  “But be sure it's close to the stairs. I want to rub its belly every time I go past it.”

  “I'll be sure, Wakagashira-san.

  “Okay, guys, bring it in. Careful! Watch the door frame! Okay, easy, easy. I know it's heavy. Over there, on that pedestal. Good. Careful! Okay. Now turn it more toward the windows. Good. Hold it.

  “Is that okay, Wakagashira-san?”

  “Closer to the staircase.”

  “Yes, sir.

  “Guys? You heard the man. Get a move on.

  “Better, Wakagashira-san?”

  “Excellent. Good work. Thank you all, gentlemen.”

  “Thank you, Wakagashira-san. We'll send the bill to your office.”

  “No need, young man. How much is it?”

  “Pickup, storage and the move, um, three hundred dollars.”

  “Fine. Will this cover it?”

  “Seven hundred? That's way too much, Wakagashira-san.”

  “Split the extra between the four of you. Consider it a small gratuity.”

  “Thank you, Wakagashira-san; that's very generous.”

  “Think no more about it. You all did great work. But do me a favor and keep this job to yourself. I don't need a bill or a receipt, or any record at all. Agreed?”

  “Agreed, Wakagashira-san. I'll keep it off the books.”

  “Good. Good day.”

  Once the front doors had closed, Wakagashira-san walked over to the bronze statue, patted its belly and chuckled.

  “Well, Oyabun-san, now you are joined with the Buddha for all time.”

  He chuckled again and headed up the stairs.

  - 9 -

  November 13, 2012

  2:45 a.m. local time

  80 feet above the Aegean Sea

  Within a minute, the west part of the front door opened enough to let a barrel inch through the gap, firing randomly to the east on full auto.

  Becky, tightly wedged against the wall near the western corner, detonated the C4 on that door, blowing a two-foot hole in it and in whoever was behind it, silencing the gunfire.

  Camelia, prone next to the wall at the far end, leaped to her feet and ran toward the front door, opened it further, closed her eyes, threw a flashbang through and rolled inside the door and through the mostly empty space between the knees and upper torso of the man who had been firing from behind the door. Becky followed her in a moment later, both of her machine pistols at the ready.

  Cam opened her eyes and quickly quartered the room, seeing an open space with stone walls, several crates stacked along the east wall and two archways at opposite ends of the south wall, the shredded body behind her and one man in monk's robes getting to his knees near the westernmost archway. She took him out with one round to his chest and, after running to him, one to the top of his head. She looked through the arch and saw a narrow staircase leading up to the left.

  Becky ran to the crates and glanced at the labels and inside one that was open.

  “Looks like surveillance stuff, Cam; probably haven't had the chance to do a full install.”

  “Well, they've only been here – what – a week?”

  “I think that's right.”

  She ran to the other archway and glanced quickly through it, then stepped in and looked to her right.

  “Bingo, Cam; little wooden desk and a laptop.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nope – well, a small kerosene lamp and a chair. What you got over there?”

  “Stairs going up.”

  “Guess that's where we have to go, then.”

  “Yup. That's the main choke point.”

  “Check for booby traps as we go.”

  “Copy that. Ready?”

  “Ready. Go.”

  They ran to the archway, stopping with their backs to the wall on each side. Becky aimed up the stairs and fired a three-round burst, then ran up the stairs at full speed, keeping her eyes open for trip wires or sensors, firing another burst and then one more as she neared the top. Cam followed, five steps behind.

  At the top, Becky dropped to her knees four steps down, reached up and swung her weapon to the left, firing another silenced burst down the narrow, pitch-dark hallway that bisected the second floor. Glancing around the corner, she saw a body twitching on the floor three feet away; a single bullet to the forehead stilled him. She belly-crawled forward, using his body as cover.

  Beyond the body, she saw several doors on either side of the hall, some open, most closed. She rose to her feet, Cam behind her, and ran to the first open door on her right, glanced in, saw nothing but sparse furniture, moved on to the next one, as Cam checked the open doors on the left, until they reached the north end. Now only the closed doors remained.

  “I think the guy I hit woulda been somewhere in the middle, but I didn't hear anything as we went by; shoulda heard some screams or at least some moaning.”

  “They're pros, Cam, that's for sure.”

  “Mercs on their last job.”

  “Yup. Ready to see what's behind Door Number 1?”

  “Ready.”

  - 10 -

  November 12, 2012

  2:39 p.m. local time

  Aboard Defiance

  On the Red Sea

  "What do we have, Captain?”

  “Looks like pirates, sir. See the AKs they're brandishing?”

  “And are those RPGs on the deck?”

  “Let me zoom in a bit. Yes, sir, looks like a pile of 'em.”

  “How soon will they be in range?”

  “Another thirty seconds or so, I'd think, sir.”

  “Well, guess we need a pre-emptive strike.”

  “Yes, sir; all prepped for that. I'll have the drone paint the target.”

  “Good. But hold for my call.”

  “Will do, sir.

  “Laser is painting the target, right on the pile of RPGs.”

  “Good. Now let's see what they do.”

  “Holding.”

  “And there they go; two guys aiming RPGs. Fire.”

  “Yes, sir.

  “Fire the LGM, Wozlawski.”

  “Yes, Captain; LGM away.”

  A puff of smoke and a throaty roar from the rear deck signaled that the laser-guided missile had been fired and a moment later, a brilliant explosion could be seen in the distance and heard a moment after that.

  “Direct hit, sir.”

  “Very good, Captain. Any damage to the drone?”

  “No, sir; it's well out of range. I'll have it do a post-impact visual assessm
ent and then bring it back on board.”

  “Let me know if there are any survivors. I'll want to interrogate them if there are.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  “Wonder what they're doing so far north of their usual hunting grounds.”

  “No idea, sir. But they didn't look like Somalis; maybe Yemenis.”

  “That makes more sense. Keep me posted; I'll be down on the foredeck.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  - 11 -

  November 13, 2012

  2:51 a.m. local time

  100 feet above the Aegean Sea

  They moved to the first door on the left, one on each side, backs to the wall. Becky reached out, pressed the antique latch with the barrel of her weapon and swung the door wide open. Cam glanced in, machine pistol sweeping across it, as Becky stepped in and looked around the room, seeing only a spartan wooden bed, a small desk with a kerosene lamp on top and a chair.

  “Clear.”

  “Door Number 2.”

  They moved across the hall and repeated the procedure with that door. The room had the same sparse furnishings.

  “Clear.”

  Next door. “Clear.”

  Next door. “Clear.”

  Next. “Clear.”

  As they neared the middle of the hall, after several more rooms had been cleared, Cam tensed up and said, “This is about where he woulda been.”

  When Becky reached for the latch and metal hit metal, bullets splintered the wood around the latch, and Becky pushed the door open with the gun barrel. Cam, keeping her back to the wall, stretched her weapon into the doorway, swept the room on full auto and heard her bullets hit flesh and a rifle clatter on the stone floor.

  She ran in, put another bullet in the man's head, quickly slapped a new magazine into her weapon and picked up the man's rifle. She saw that his right arm ended in a bloody stump halfway between the elbow and wrist.

  “Got you, you SOB,” she hissed as they backed out into the hallway.

  As they approached the closed door across the hallway, Becky swapped magazines, as well.

  “My guy may be in here,” she said as they got in position and she reached out for the latch with her barrel. As metal hit metal, she pushed the latch down, but then held still, alert for any noise from the other side of the door. She heard nothing and pushed the door open, hearing it bang against the wall as it swung wide.