by Ronie Kendig
“The general.” He stopped as an MRAP turned into his path to enter the motor pool, and when the driver saluted, Lance threw him one back, then moved on. “That message about Haur. Did it make it?” Inside the command bunker, he shook off the snow from his jacket and boots.
Papers rustled as Otte consulted his notes. Seconds fell off the clock. Slowly, his semibalding head swung back and forth. “No, sir.”
Lance leaned into the major. “Are you going to sit there and tell me those men don’t know Haur is a traitor?” His boots squeaked against the vinyl floor as he trudged through the hall so quiet they seemed partnered with death tonight.
“No, sir.” Otte blinked. “I mean, yes, sir—they don’t know. Or at least, it’s not confirmed.”
Half the lights were killed, and loneliness clung to the walls. “Where in blazes is everyone?” When he stepped into the command center and the same eerie silence met him, Lance cursed. He slowed, annoyed at the quiet that draped the room that should’ve been buzzing with keyboards, coms chatter, and general chaos. Instead, only two of the eight monitors were manned.
He turned to a specialist, her hair pulled back tight. “Where is everyone?”
“The storm,” the nervous specialist looked up from her station. “Most of the teams have been called back, and there’s little to do, so Colonel—”
His pulse pounded. “Little to do?” He thrust a finger back and to the side, in the general direction of the mountains. “We have a team of twelve men, two Chinese soldiers, a spy, and a dog handler stuck in the mountain tracking down what they believe to be a rogue Chinese colonel, and you’re going to tell me there’s little to do?”
“With all due respect, sir—”
“Shove your respect—”
“Sir,” Otte said. “General Early ordered Colonel Hastings to shut things down, give the men downtime.”
“I don’t give a rip.” Lance waved a hand over the room. “Wake them up. Everyone, including Early. Get everyone in here who can operate a machine. We need to find our men and stop them from getting killed.”
Wide-eyed, the woman stared at him.
“Specialist, unless you want an automatic six-month extension added to your tour, get moving.”
“Yes, sir.” After an obligatory salute, she flew out of the chair and out the door.
“Otte.” Chest puffing, Lance moved to a computer. “Find my girl.” Misery groped for a foothold with him. “Bring her home. I don’t want to have to tell her father China won after all.”
Deep in the Hindu Kush
15 Klicks from the Afghan-China Border
Trust. A sliver-thin film that stretched over relationships like food wrap. Flimsy enough to be broken. Strong enough to protect. Twenty years he had worked to prove his trustworthiness. Twenty years he’d lived beneath the shadow of his father’s actions, his father’s betrayal. No one bore the brunt of that betrayal more than Haur. Left alone in a country without a mother and father. Left to face the authorities who’d beaten him unconscious several times in the first few weeks. When they finally decided the fifteen-year-old boy left behind didn’t know anything, they turned their efforts toward obtaining convincing proof that his father had committed the ultimate betrayal. Soon after, he was shown pictures of burned bodies. His father and sister. Dead. Their betrayal cost them their lives.
“Where is your loyalty, Li Haur?”
Standing before the minister of defense, stripped of honor and name, he’d screamed at Zheng Xin, raged that they’d stolen his life. Demanded to see his father again. Told them he refused to believe the charges. That he wasn’t going to turn on his own family. Or believe their deaths.
Not until the officers showed him a video of his father and Mei Mei entering a building but never leaving … then another image of a man and little girl in London who bore a striking resemblance … not till then.
He’d cried. He fought. Then pulled himself together.
The next day, he was delivered to the minister’s palatial home. Shown to a bedroom on the second floor. Told to shower and clean. He was then escorted to the minister’s private office. In that room in the heart of Taipei City, his life changed. General Zheng said Haur’s fire was borne out of anger at being abandoned, at being left behind by his own father. The same father who had betrayed his friends, including Xin.
Haur vowed his loyalty to homeland China. To the Rising Sun. A brutal fight with Jianyu created not a lifelong enemy, but a lifelong brother. They became allies, battle hardened through life and the daunting weight of being in the public eye on a regular basis as the sons of Zheng Xin.
Even now, that film of trust had stretched taut … between him and America, but also—and more important—between him and his own people. It did not escape his attention how Bai monitored him, tracked his moves, never gave him more than a few minutes alone with the American elite warriors.
They know. Both the Americans and Chinese doubted his loyalty. Each for different reasons. His father’s choice twenty-plus years ago cost Haur more than he could’ve ever imagined. I will never escape this black mark on my life.
“You seem friendly with the Americans.”
Haur slanted a glance to Bai, who watched the men crawling up to the crest of the incline. “Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.” With that, he crouch-ran forward, then dropped to his knees in the snow. He crawled up to the dog handler, Daniels.
“Down,” Daniels said, then returned his attention to the night-vision binoculars he held.
Haur peered over the lip.
A village smiled up at him, its buildings sunk beneath the heavy snowfall. Roofs peeked out, but the road into the village had been beaten down by large-wheeled vehicles that grouped in the middle of the structures. The mountain resembled a cup with one side, the southernmost, missing. To the left of the team, a rocky incline swooped down toward the base of the village. Probably compliments of a landslide during rainy seasons. The rocky slope would be the best tactical entry point. Able to hide among the boulders and use the color variation to their benefit.
Since the snow had let up, the moon peeked through the clouds, bathing the pristine blanket with a blue hue. That aided him in seeing with the naked eye, but not much.
Haur glanced to Daniels with the binoculars. “May I borrow them when you are done?”
Though the man’s distrust screamed, he handed them over.
The dog watched the exchange, panting, her breath puffs of blue in the predawn hours. Head down, she jerked her snout back toward the village. Keen eyes locked on the village, as if she’d seen something. She seemed to be processing the scene as much as her handler. With a small whimper, she scooted back.
“Counting at least twenty, maybe thirty, unfriendlies,” came Watterboy’s report.
“Roger,” Candyman said from his left.
Haur saw only stubby figures, then zoomed in, almost able to see facial features. Half of the men on guard were Russians. He just cared that Jianyu was down there. With Russians. That made Haur tremble. China had long been allies with the Russians, but for them both to be here, it meant trouble. Both for China—they would have to deal with the bad publicity that would come out of attacking American forces—and for the Americans, who would have to face two enemies.
He returned the NVGs to Daniels and hesitated. “Where is your dog?”
Daniels glanced over his shoulder. “Call of nature. Don’t eat the yellow snow.”
Chuckles rumbled through the area, which confounded Haur. Were they not aware of what trouble they were walking into? The buildings were huddled and around them were sentries. “Impossible.”
“What’s that?” Daniels asked.
“There are too many. How can you get in and get this girl without being seen?”
“We’ll get the girl,” Candyman said. “Whether we’re seen or not is another matter. Besides, haven’t you heard? This is our lucky day.”
“You will need more than luck.” Haur knew the ty
pe of man they were facing, the ruthless determination to do what he felt was right, to bring glory to China.
“We’ve got that, too.” Candyman held up his weapon. “M4, M16. Who can stand against us?”
“China. Jianyu. Any enemy who wants you dead.”
“God’s got our backs.” Daniels stilled, uncertainty in his eyes. He did not believe what he’d said. Were the answers so meaningless? Did he not understand?
“That and my M4.” Candyman snorted.
“Quiet!” Watterboy hissed. With quick hand signals, he sent four men scurrying to the west and another four southeast. “Putman, how’s our coms?”
“Working on it.”
“Get it up. We need Command.”
Next to him, Daniels propped himself up on one arm and looked around. “Hey …” He pushed himself upright.
Haur knew what he was thinking. “Daniels, where is your dog?”
Daniels tugged a whistle out and blew on it. No sound came out.
Watterboy keyed his mic. “Heads-up. Trinity’s missing.”
“We’ve got movement in the village,” Candyman said. “And the incline.”
Eyes snapped to that spot, Haur itched to look through the NVGs, but Daniels had already moved out to find his dog. “It is a good spot for a sniper, yes?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Moving kind of fast.”
“Yeah … and agile …”
“Got a bead,” someone else said.
“Take the sho—”
“No!” Heath shouted. “It’s Trinity!”
Rifle fire cracked the darkness.
Thirty-Two
Small Village in the Hindu Kush
15 Klicks from Chinese Border
The report of the rifle fire echoed through the valley and bounced back to Heath, thudding against his chest. “No!” He lunged at the Green Beret who’d taken the shot. He tackled him and flipped him over, straddling the guy. “Tell me you didn’t hit her! Tell me!”
“I … I don’t know. I just saw snow dust.”
Heath flung himself to the ground, grabbing for his NVGs. Oh God. Please … please don’t let him have hit her. Back and forth, he scoured the pocked slope.
“Anyone got a line of sight on Trinity?”
Heath’s pulse roared as the green field blurred. His hands shook with rage and panic. “I can’t find her.” Lord, God … Lord, God … He zoomed in. Rocks. Shrubs. Snow. Branches. Lord, I know You didn’t bring us out here for her to die on that hill. Please! For her, I’ll beg.
A sickening feeling dropped his heart into his stomach. The thought of her getting sniped … of her bleeding out … He was going to be sick.
A flicker of movement.
His heart vaulted back into his chest. He whipped back to the left, where the movement occurred. Rocks. Snow. Heath eased the whistle to his lips and blew. Scanned. C’mon, c’mon. He blew it again. Scanned.
Eerie green eyes locked on him.
“Got her!” His heart now flipped into his throat, choking him with elation as she stared in his direction, her sensitive ears picking up the high-frequency whistle. He gave her the signal to return.
“You got her?”
“Yeah.” Heath mentally prodded Trinity to head back. Her beautiful head trained in his direction, then flitted around, then back to the village. He blew the return signal again.
Instead, she slunk farther down the slope.
“No,” he said to her, knowing she couldn’t hear that. “Crap!” He pushed to his feet. “She’s broken behavior. Something’s wrong.” He trudged through the snow, each step dropping him knee-deep. “I’m going after her.”
“Whoa, no.” Watters caught his arm. “No way, Ghost.”
“Back off, Watters. I know you didn’t want me on this trip, and if I die going after her, you won’t have to worry about us anymore.” Everything in Heath pulsed with conviction. “You wouldn’t leave one of your men behind, and I’m not leaving her. She’s everything to me.”
“I know, Heath.” Watters touched his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to come because I didn’t want you getting hurt. But you’re here. Now, you’re part of my team. And I won’t let you go into a situation that could get you killed. Let’s make a plan.”
Pulse lowering, Heath nodded. “You make the plan. I’ll meet you down there.”
“Look, if she’s gone rogue—”
“No.” Heath drew in a frigid, ragged breath. “Not rogue. She broke behavior. It’s different.”
“How?”
“Rogue means she’s not responding to commands. She responded to my whistle command, but then—I didn’t see it at the time, but she was trying to tell me she caught a scent. It’s not normal for her to go without me, but she is trained to work off-lead. That’s what she’s doing—working off-lead.” Realization dawned like the sun rising into its zenith. “She’s only done that one other time—with Jia at Bagram. I don’t know why, but she’s taken a liking to this woman.” Just like me. “I have to believe she must’ve seen her or can detect her scent.”
“That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”
They’d worked together enough for Heath to know Watters’s words held hope, that he wanted to believe what Heath was saying. “Not as big as you might think.” Heath grinned. “I’m going down. Cover me, okay? Then bring in the cavalry.”
“Candyman, Java, Scrip, Pops—take the spook,” Watters said, never taking his gaze off Heath. “Go with Ghost. Keep coms open. Rocket and everyone else, you’re with me. We’ll flank the south.”
“Hooah,” Candyman said.
“Remember, orders are STK.” Never doubt that Watters was a soldier. “Let’s find the girl and bring her back.”
“Lock and load.” Candyman’s grin never faded.
Heath nodded to the team leader. “Thank you.”
“You’re wasting air,” Watterboy said with a grin.
Heath jogged, as much as the deep snow would allow, toward the place he’d seen Trinity scaling the jagged terrain. Alive with the mission of finding and securing his girl, he struggled against the elements that impeded speed. An impression in the snow snagged his attention.
“That her trail?” Candyman voiced Heath’s thoughts.
“That’s her.” Heath used her already-carved path down the slope. Sneak of a dog had plowed through this with such speed he hadn’t even seen her doing it. Nobody had. And here, he felt like he was trying to wade through a tub of sour cream. Or quick-drying cement. Frigid wetness chomped into his legs, his pants wet and sticking to him. But he plowed on, determined to find Trinity.
And Jia.
He prayed that what had lured Trinity into breaking behavior and going into the village alone was the woman. The two had taken to each other as if they’d met before. Which was ludicrous. Their first encounter had been at the base. He was good with faces. Rarely did he forget one.
As the snow crowded around the first line of defense the rocks formed, Heath slowed. Searched for Trinity’s trail.
“It’s like she disappeared,” Candyman said.
“Or jumped.” Heath’s gaze hit on a spot to the right. Paw prints on a rock. Then another trail to the left where the snow wasn’t as deep.
“It’s like she knew it wasn’t as deep.”
“She did. She’s a dog—she can smell the earth beneath the snow easier.” Fueled by finding her trail again, Heath maneuvered his way. Behind him, the rest of the team did the same.
“Down, down!” Candyman hissed into the predawn morning. “Movement, ten o’clock.”
Heath’s gaze went left. Sure enough, a sentry stalked toward a tree, vanished behind it. What would a sentry be doing way out here? A few seconds later, the man reemerged, then slogged back to camp, whistling.
“Clear,” Candyman whispered.
Heath used Trinity’s tracks through the foot-deep snow to hide his own steps as much as possible, leading the men in the same path to hide their numbers. Moving
on, Heath hopped down a two-foot drop. This was where Trinity hesitated, then ignored his whistle call. He searched for signs of blood. Had the shooter hit her?
“No blood,” he muttered as he looked around.
“Then I guess that means you’re not going to kill Scrip.” Candyman grinned to the man behind him.
“I’m sorry, man. I thought it was a sentry or a wild cat.”
“As long as she’s not hurt, I’ll let you live,” Heath teased.
“Then let’s make sure that’s the case.”
“Supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting.”
Jianyu took in a long, slow breath of the incense on the table before him. He pushed aside the bitter cold. Folded away the anger. Ignored the doubts. He must find a center, find a way to reach that nirvana and quiet he’d once known.
With Meixiang.
The first time he’d ever thought life had smiled on him.
The first time he’d ever be made a fool of. And the last. He would make sure. A kiss shared equaled a life of honor stolen. Love—
With a growl, he leapt to his feet, shoulder-width apart, hands at the side.
Roiling fury stirred the air around him.
No. He must calm himself. Draw strength from sage wisdom.
Curse the wisdom. She was here! In that hut. Alive, beautiful, and traitorous. She would not divulge which of his men had fed her the information. She could not have accessed their secret military files without that information. Though she’d tried to twist his suspicions back to himself, Jianyu knew better. He only had a part of the codes. No one soldier held them all. The safety protocols were immense. She had to have worked with someone with great power. Or with more than one source.
Jianyu stuffed the incense in the snow, snuffing it out.
He would find out. He would make her spill all of her secrets before he spilled her guts all over that table. It was a waste, of course. A beautiful woman like that.
