Trinity: Military War Dog

by Ronie Kendig

  “Uncertain, sir. Nobody’s claiming it yet. And if SOCOM hadn’t gotten a call this morning from Dr. Colsen, we probably wouldn’t know about any of this.”

  “The professor?” A scowl crowded Lance’s face. “Was he calling to report the attack?”

  Sweat slicked the tips of Otte’s dark hair as he shook his head. “I don’t believe so, sir. He told Command they had to get out of there, that Jia awakened the camp, saying someone was coming after them.”

  His pulse stumbled at the mention of Darci’s alias. “What time did his call come?”

  “Zero three hundred, sir.” “That’s almost five hours ago.”

  “Yes, sir, it’s taken me that long to authenticate the reports.”

  The words faded as one name grew loud in Lance’s mind: Jianyu.

  “… explosion. It’s all we know, sir.”

  “Explosion?”

  Otte nodded.

  “From what?”

  “The Black Hawk, sir. SOCOM went to rescue the team.” Otte said it as if he’d already mentioned it. Maybe he had.

  But Lance’s mind couldn’t surrender the thought of Darci up there in the middle of an attack. What was the probability that Jianyu had found her? “What happened?”

  “They were shot down.”

  He’d need to get an assessment team up there to find out who … “The geology team.” He looked at Otte. “Are they alive?” “Unknown.” His aide paled.

  Lance knew what was on the line, who was on the line with that team. His heart tangled over the news and twisted into a hard knot. Otte wouldn’t be here as if he’d lost his first pet if the team was alive and in communication with the base.

  Otte continued. “At this time, we are officially listing them as MIA.”

  In other words, presumed dead.

  Parwan Province, Afghanistan

  Free-falling snapped Darci awake. Her arms shot out and she yelped. Rocks scored her palms as she slid along the ledge. Her face smeared the ground. Head spinning, wet, warm stickiness sliding down her neck and chest, she groped for her bearings. Something fluttered down around her. White … light … Snow?

  “She came at us from out of a tunnel like the snake that she is.”

  Inwardly, Darci cringed. She knew that voice. Knew that meant she was in a very bad position.

  “Did you think you could escape with our secrets and not face the consequences?”

  “Jia,” a hushed whisper sailed amid the Chinese flowing like the fat white flakes around them. Cold bit into her fingers still planted on the ground, thanks to the boot pressing against her back. She blinked and rolled her gaze around, trying to find the source of English.

  She spotted Toque, pinned between two guards.

  “Get her up.”

  The world swirled in a mural of white and olive green as the uniform gave way to the hauntingly familiar face of Wu Jianyu. Hair grown out and pulled into a ponytail, he leered at her. “Why are you in these mountains?”

  “Enjoying the view,” she spit out in Mandarin.

  His jaw muscle popped as he walked to the side, pulling her gaze with him. He stood next to Toque. Walked behind him.

  No. No, don’t do it.

  He was testing her reaction. If she showed one, he’d kill Toque. But she would not give him one. Instead, Darci locked her attention on him as he paced behind the survey team. The professor and Toque had been roughed up a bit, scratches clawed into their lips and cheeks. No doubt they’d provided a little resistance.

  In Chinese, he said, “You cost me everything.”

  “The only thing I cost you,” she replied back in Mandarin, “was pride. Everything else was your own doing, Jianyu.”

  Fury exploded through his expression. He shoved between Jaekus and the professor. “No! You! You cost me everything.”

  “If you had been half the soldier you claimed to be, I never would have gotten as far as I did.” The words were cruel, and she should’ve reined them in.

  As if a stone mask slid over his face, the anger fell away. “Let me show you the cost of your actions.”

  He turned, exposing his firearm. Jianyu raised it and aimed at the professor.

  “No!” Darci lunged, but two of his elite Yanjingshe fighters secured her, yanking her backward—hard.

  The report of the weapon ricocheted through the canyon and through her heart as Professor Colsen slumped to his knees, shock frozen on his face.

  With a kick, Jianyu shoved him over the cliff.

  Twenty

  FOB Murphy, Afghanistan

  Trinity at his side, Heath waited with a medic as the retrieval team barreled through the secured gate. Amid a plume of dust, the MRAP skidded to a stop, spitting dirt and rocks at Heath. He didn’t care. The woman—he was sure he’d seen her with the geology team.

  The back door flew open, and Watterboy stepped out with a girl in his arms. Their gazes collided for a second. “Dehydrated and scared out of her little mind. Get us a stretcher.”

  The medic took the child and vanished into a building

  “What about the woman? What’s wrong with her? Why does she need a stretcher?”

  “Ankle’s messed up pretty bad, but no other visible injuries. And she keeps asking for Burnett.”

  Heath peered into the vehicle where Candyman crouched next to a woman. An IV snaked into her arm and disappeared beneath her skin. “Who’s Burnett?”

  “The boss’s boss.”

  As Candyman stretched to the side to adjust her fluid bag, Heath saw the young woman’s face up close. “She was with the geology team.”

  Watters glanced at Heath with an undecipherable expression.

  “Did she say anything about”—Heath swallowed the words that would’ve exposed his true interest—“the others? Why is she wandering around the desert? Why isn’t she with her team?”

  “If she’d talk, I imagine she might answer them. Said she’d only talk to Burnett.”

  Two more medics emerged with a stretcher. “Coming through.”

  Heath and Watters shifted aside, but no way would Heath let that woman out of his sight. She knew about Jia. Knew what happened to the team. Knew if that explosion they’d seen was connected to the geology team.

  Mind buzzing, Heath ignored the hammering against his temples. He grabbed the bite straw of his CamelBak and squirted some water into his mouth along with three ibuprofen. As the medics disappeared with the woman, it took everything in Heath not to follow. Instead, he locked his gaze on the mountains. On the spot where he’d seen the smoke billowing hours earlier.

  There was one reason that young woman would be wandering the desert just before a storm, alone, and with an Afghan girl. Something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

  “Should get a team up there.”

  Watters clapped him on the shoulder. “You can take the soldier out of the war, but never the war out of the soldier.”

  Heat infused Heath’s face. He lowered his head. “Sorry.”

  “No way, man. You know the drill, you know what needs to be done.” But that expression flickered through Watters’s face again.

  “What is that?”

  His friend shifted. “What’s what?”

  “That look on your face.” Ibuprofen hadn’t kicked in yet. And the telltale pressure in his chest told him the anger rising through him wouldn’t help. Besides, why was he letting things get to him?

  Because he was assuming the worst, that Watters didn’t think he should be here. That he didn’t have a right to be here.

  But Watters had never been anything but supportive and encouraging.

  In Heath’s periphery, a shape slid into view. Timbrel. Then a cold, wet nose nudged his hand. All signs and warnings that said, Get a grip, man.

  Mentally, Heath took a step back. He wouldn’t face off with one of his only allies here. “Forget it.”

  “Ghost …”

  He didn’t need to be placated by a warrior brother. “I get it, man.” It was a bitter pil
l to swallow, like pieces of charcoal going down. “Just … keep me posted about the geology team. ‘Kay?”

  Watters looked down, then nodded. “Sure.” He spun and entered the building where they’d taken the woman.

  Heath pivoted on his heel, and the world spun. He stiffened and waited for the feeling to pass. As his vision and focus realigned, he found the team staring at him.

  Aspen stepped forward, chin and shoulders up. “I’m sure she’s fine, Heath.”

  “No.” He didn’t want to live on false hopes. “Nobody knows that.” Curse himself! He’d just indicated his interest in Jia with his roiling emotions. “It doesn’t make sense that she’d be out there, wandering the desert alone with that little girl. Something happened.”

  “Do you think they’re still alive?” Leave it to Hogan to be straightforward.

  Like a bad action movie, the explosion played over and over in his mind. What he couldn’t get around was that it’d take something large and mechanical to create an explosion like that. A chopper. And if she’d been on that chopper, she wouldn’t have a prayer.

  “Hey.” The quiet, firm voice of Hogan snapped—once again—through the self-beatings of his attitude. “Got a sec?”

  “No.” Heath extracted himself from the familiar and took a jog with Trinity. Alone with the one girl who’d never expected anything from him, except to be there. The only thing God asked of Heath was obedience.

  And what had he thrown back at Him? Rebellion in the form of control and anger, borne out of hurt and/or fear. Why had God allowed him to get so messed up? Why had God stolen his career from his fingers?

  He wasn’t angry, but it rankled.

  Well, maybe that wasn’t the complete truth. Because if he wasn’t angry, things like this wouldn’t bug him. He’d deal with them, release them to God’s all-powerful hands, and take the next leap of faith.

  The thought of something happening that would require him to leap with faith …

  God … please … don’t. Give a guy a break, okay?

  Heath groaned. Already, he could feel it coming. It would hit him head-on. And he’d crumble because he no longer had faith or strength. He’d come out here, insisting this was what he wanted, to be back in the action. He’d never been more wrong in his life.

  Camp Eggers, Kabul, Afghanistan

  “Think this is connected to the Chinese?”

  “Think? Yes.” Lance paced the small room, itching for an IV line to a Dr Pepper keg. “Prove? Not at all.”

  “You going to make Colonel Zheng talk?” Otte asked.

  “How? Beat it out of him? And what does that do but tip our hand?” They were trapped right now. Just enough poison to smell and know someone would die. Not enough to know who was contaminated and would fall victim. Besides, Lance would be hanged if he’d let that man out of his sight without figuring out what he knew.

  He gulped the last of the syrupy sweetness and tossed the can in the trash. “Get a chopper lined up to take us back to CJSOTF-A. And find out what teams are there.”

  “Sir.” Otte left the room.

  Slumped in a chair, Lance steepled his fingers. What Zheng told them and what Zheng knew were two very different things. Lance could feel it. In the deep marrow of his bones. But if he pushed, Zheng would know something had happened. Would know that there was a high probability that Jianyu had struck.

  If it was Wu Jianyu who hit the survey team, how in the name of all that was holy did he know Darci—or Meixiang as Jianyu knew her—was here? Her insertion into that team was a veritable locked vault. He could count on one hand the number of people who knew she was DIA.

  Coincidence?

  That’d be a mighty amazing coincidence.

  But stranger things had happened. Like the young colonel sitting in this compound with him.

  Lance had to play it slow and careful. But if things were going as expected, he also didn’t have time to lose. If Jianyu had Darci—Lance would have to send all the dogs of war after him.

  Dogs …

  That punk former Green Beret who’d been smitten with Darci … an MWD handler … An idea slowly coalesced—

  Boots squeaked and crunched behind him.

  “Lance, ODA452 at FOB Murphy just radioed in.” Early stood in the doorway. “They’ve picked up a little Afghan girl and a young woman.”

  Great. More poor citizens looking for food and shelter. With this storm, he understood the concern. At the base of the mountain, that area would get hit hard by the blizzard.

  “She says she was with the geology team you set up.”

  Lance hesitated as he glanced at Early. “We didn’t have Afghans on that team.”

  “No, the woman was American.”

  Was it too much to hope? One hundred percent of his attention landed on his old friend. “What’s her name?” “Didn’t say. Won’t talk to anyone but you.”

  Thunder rumbled through his chest. It had to be Kintz. FOB Murphy was about five klicks south of the Kush.

  General Early bore a grave expression. “Want me to have them bring her in?”

  “No.” Considering the totality of the situation and the way it seemed to be complicating matters exponentially, this was a good time to get back to where he had more assets and control. “Send a chopper. Get them to Bagram. I want them there when I touch down.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah.” He knew Early meant it sarcastically, but his mind raced. “Wasn’t that dog handler speaking to the troops with that team?”

  “Yes, sir,” Zeferelli said from behind Early. “The team was there. Caught in a confrontation earlier. A Taliban terrorist tried to make soup out of that war dog.”

  He couldn’t lose that dog. That dog was key. “Get everyone up there. Now.” He stalked to the door. “I need that dog.”

  “General Burnett.”

  The loud, firm call of his name stopped Lance before he hit the hall.

  “I’ve known you a long time, and we’ve worked a lot of years together.” Shorter by a head and whiter haired, Early held fast. “Long enough for me to know something is off.”

  “Then you also know when not to ask.”

  “What am I not asking?”

  “Questions.” Period. Early knew better. Particularly in an unsecure location like this. “As soon as I can, you’ll know, but …”

  Early waited.

  “You may not like me when all is said and done.”

  “Who says I like you now?”

  FOB Murphy, Afghanistan

  Stretched out against some sandbags, Trinity curled up beside him, Heath smoothed a hand over her fur. Neither Watterboy nor Candyman had given him an update in the last eighty minutes. That meant one of two things: either they didn’t have anything to update, or the update was bad news/confidential.

  And because Heath Daniels no longer held rank with the military, his nose was kept out of the mess.

  Except, he felt waist deep in this one.

  Jia had been one of the most real people he’d met. Crazy to think that, having spent only a few hours with her. She’d been undaunted by his scars and his status as a noncom.

  But she’d also been lightning fast to sever the ties.

  It’d rankled him at first, but maybe that was just her way of coping. Maybe …

  Maybe you just need to let this go.

  Even if she was alive, even if the U.S. launched a mission to find her—the thought dragged his gaze to the rugged Hindu Kush with its winter storm clouds that stood over them like an angry god—Heath the noncom would be sent home. Forbidden from helping.

  She was right. They’d never see each other again.

  Heath sat up, nudging Trinity off his chest. She huffed her objection, then stretched, which drew out a groan. “You and me both, girl.” He rubbed her ears. Why did it bother him, the thought of not seeing Jia? It wasn’t like he was top candidate material for dating. Imagine passing out on a date when he got stressed over things not going right. But thing
s had gotten significantly worse since arriving here. It was almost like he was allergic to the place.

  A wet tongue slurped his face.

  Instinct wrapped his arm around Trinity’s broad chest, and he tightened her in his hold. “It’s okay, girl.”

  “Ghost.”

  Heath shot to his feet at the sound of Watterboy’s voice. “Hey.” He dusted off his backside. “What’s the word?”

  “Oh.” Watters glanced back to the doors. “Nothing. She’s not talking. But we got RTB orders.”

  “Bagram?”

  Watterboy nodded. “Grab your gear. Chopper’s en route.” For a moment, he stood there, as if wanting to say something. “Everything all right?”

  With a sigh, Watters waved. “Yeah. Fine. Tired, I guess.” He started to cross to the bunk building, then gave another wave. “Catch you later.”

  “Right.”

  A strange ache wove into Heath’s chest. He’d been good friends with that man once. They’d shared command and secrets. Laughs about newbs and girlfriends. Now the guy was stiffer than the hull of an MRAP.

  “Hey, Hot Snot.”

  Irritation skidded into his mood as Hogan stepped out of the main building. “I don’t need—”

  “Ghost, chill.” Her brown eyes held not condemnation or even a lecture but a twinkle of something. She bobbed her head to the side. “C’mere.” She stalked away and went through a side door.

  Trinity looked up at him, beautiful amber eyes sparkling with a “why not” expression. He sighed. “All right. But if this goes bad, I’m blaming you.”

  Trinity barked, then trotted after Hogan.

  Inside, Heath paused to gain his bearings. This looked like—

  “Hey.” She leaned backward, her torso peeking out from a door to his right.

  Heath entered the room. An examination table hogged the room.

  “What’s this about?”

  A man moved in the corner. Dark eyes. Dark skin.

  Timbrel bounced over to the guy in an Afghan national uniform. The insignia on his chest identified him as an officer. “This is Mahmoud. He’s a doctor.” Whoa, the smile she shot that guy could blind the unsuspecting.