Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset

by C. G. Cooper

  +++

  Travis was shuffling to the open rear end of the C-130 when his phone buzzed. He looked down and saw that Cal was calling. Shit. He knew Cal would have to wait. Travis’s force had its own mission.

  He lowered his night vision goggles and jumped into the darkness.

  +++

  Benjamin had timed the extraction perfectly. On their journey up, his men had staged additional gear as a precaution. They’d just reached the weapons cache and were taking ambush positions. Their kill zone set, Benjamin waited for Ponder to fall into his trap.

  +++

  Todd Dunn had been the first man out of the aircraft. He and his troops were now floating down through the early morning darkness.

  The plan was to land in front of the smaller group of snowmobiles and set up a hasty ambush. Travis hoped that a couple well-placed shots could disable the lead vehicle long enough for them to find out who they were dealing with.

  He gazed down through the blackness with his NVGs. It looks like they’ve stopped, Dunn noted. At least that’ll make our timing easier.

  The rest of the SSI operators were cuing off of his descent. It would’ve been harder to ensure a smooth insertion with moving hostiles. This way they might have a little more time to stage themselves on the ground.

  Thank God the damn weather died down, Dunn thought. The last thing we need is casualties before we fight.

  He watched as the scene unfolded below. It looked like the group was getting off of their vehicles. What the hell?

  Turning back to the business of insertion, Dunn checked his GPS one last time and prepped for landing.

  +++

  They’d just rounded a bend when Ponder saw the telltale flash of incoming projectiles. He barely had time to swerve left before a small rocket crashed into the snowmobile next to him. Ponder struggled to stay on his own vehicle but was finally thrown off when he slammed into a large boulder. His body somehow flew over the rock instead of hitting it. The last thing he heard before he slammed into the creek bed was the repeated explosions of more rockets annihilating his forces.

  +++

  Benjamin smiled grimly as his assassins sent round after round from their shoulder-fired weapons. They’d been a last minute purchase from a Russian arms dealer before leaving Pakistan. Rather than having to rely on accurate aim, the smaller projectiles were, in fact, mini-missiles with heat-seeking capability. The Russian had said that even his dead grandmother could’ve pulled the trigger and demolished an enemy target. He had not exaggerated. Benjamin made a mental note to thank the Russian and put in a larger order for their next operation.

  He signaled for his men to stop firing. Cradling his AK-47, Benjamin approached the wreckage. After quickly dispatching the few wounded survivors, he turned back and ordered his men to get back on their vehicles.

  Benjamin took one last look at the carnage and smiled. Stupid Americans.

  +++

  Ponder peeked out from his hiding spot. He winced from the pain of his dislocated shoulder. There were no tears shed as Ponder watched Benjamin kill his men, only seething anger. I don’t care how or when, but I’m gonna kill that fucker.

  He slunk back further and waited for his enemy to leave.

  Chapter 39

  Grand Teton Mountain Range, Wyoming

  1:53am, September 29th

  Cowboy had readily agreed to stay on-station for as long as he could. His ability to view the battlefield from the air gave the SSI warriors a distinct advantage. He keyed up Travis to give him the latest intel.

  “What have you got?” Travis asked.

  “Looks like the smaller group just took out the bigger group. Granes said one of the fuckers actually walked around cleaning up the survivors of the ambush. I think we can safely assume that they’re bad guys too.”

  Travis grunted. At least there would be less of an enemy to confront.

  “Are they on their way?”

  “Yeah. They’re heading straight for you.”

  “Roger, out.”

  Cowboy shook his head. The last thing he’d expected to see on his training tour was a full-out battle on American soil. I might have to stick around these SSI boys, mused the mustachioed pilot.

  +++

  The snowmobiles were just coming into view.

  “Take out the lead vehicle,” Travis whispered to the sniper lying next to him.

  The expert killer took one last breath and pulled the trigger of his Barrett M107.50 Caliber rifle. Travelling at over 2,800 feet per second, the bullet pierced the lead vehicle’s engine and the vehicle sputtered to a stop. A second later, the small convoy stopped right where Travis had wanted. The SSI operators quickly surrounded the three vehicles.

  “Drop your weapons!” Dunn commanded.

  None of the masked riders complied.

  “I said drop your weapons!”

  Without warning, one of the snowmobiles gunned its engine and sped off around the others. Travis noted that it was the only one towing some sort of elongated sled. As if on cue, the rest of the riders moved to fire their weapons at Travis’s men. The SSI team didn’t hesitate. Before the Pakistanis could fire, each man already had in excess of twenty rounds in them.

  Travis turned to the sniper who’d stayed next to him in the fray.

  “You think you can take out that snowmobile that took off?” asked Travis

  “I’ll try.”

  Through his Leupold scope, the sniper tried to find his target in the darkness. In daylight or properly set up, it might’ve been an easy shot. With darkness limiting his scope’s night vision enhanced range, he would be much less accurate. To make matters worse, whoever was driving the thing knew how to maneuver to avoid being shot.

  Travis’s sniper exhaled and pulled the trigger.

  “Hit,” he announced, continuing to look through his scope. Despite being hit, the vehicle was still moving. Just as he lined up for another shot, the enemy disappeared into the night.

  “What happened?” asked Travis.

  “I hit the damn thing, sir, but it’s still moving.”

  “It’s okay, O’Brian. We’ll have the C-130 keep tabs on it.”

  Travis went to key his headset when the sniper added, “I think I detached that sled it was pulling, sir.”

  Travis looked up. “Let’s go take a look.”

  He turned to find that Dunn was approaching. “O’Brian said he might’ve knocked that sled thing off. You wanna come take a look with me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Can we borrow that last snowmobile?”

  “Negative, Skipper. I just checked and it’s dead. We must’ve hit it when we took the bad guys out.”

  “Then I guess we’re huffin’ it. Let’s grab a couple guys and go.”

  Dunn nodded and went to fetch some men.

  I wonder where the hell Neil is, thought Travis, as he waited.

  +++

  Benjamin cursed his luck as he pushed the crippled snowmobile to its limit. Not only had he and his men been ambushed themselves, somehow whoever had attacked them had managed to shoot the hitch connecting the vehicle to the sled holding his masters’ prize.

  There was nothing he could do now. Benjamin put his head down and continued his reckless retreat down the mountain.

  +++

  They approached the long sled with weapons drawn.

  “What do you think’s in there?” asked Dunn.

  Travis shrugged and stepped up beside it. He examined the exterior and noted that there looked to be some kind of tank strapped to its side. Oxygen? he wondered.

  Once he determined that the contraption wasn’t booby trapped, he unhooked the metal latches holding the medal lid. A hiss escaped as the seal cracked open and warm air whooshed out into the winter cold. Travis carefully lifted the lid and peered in.

  “Holy shit! It’s Neil!”

  Chapter 40

  Grand Teton Mountain Range, Wyoming

  3:35am, September 29th

  Cowbo
y reported that the only remaining snowmobile had disappeared. With the still unconscious Neil in their possession, Travis had turned his mind back to Cal’s team. He’d established variable communication with his cousin and received the news of the team’s casualties. Before the connection broke off, Dunn had their men fully ready to head up to Battleship Mountain. They would take turns pulling Neil’s sled with a hastily made set of double harnesses. No one complained as they marched through the deep snow.

  Upon arriving at Cal’s location, Travis took in the devastation. The destruction of Ponder’s hideway was complete.

  “How’s Trent?”

  “He’ll live,” answered Cal.

  Travis could see that his cousin was taking the loss of life hard. He knew the feeling. The former SEAL had lost a lot of friends since 9-11.

  “They all knew the danger, Cal.” Travis tried to put a comforting hand on his cousin’s shoulder, but Cal shrugged it off.

  “Did you find Ponder?” asked Cal.

  “No. We did a quick search of both groups but he wasn’t among the dead.”

  “So he got away,” Cal murmured to the mountain.

  “Looks like it.”

  “Good.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Travis.

  “That means I can find him…and kill him.”

  Chapter 41

  Quetta, Balochistan Province, Pakistan

  11:49pm, October 2nd

  Nick Ponder stumbled into his shabby hotel suite, a Chinese hooker under one arm and a half a case of beer under the other. The suite was surprisingly spacious for the price and the location. He closed the door and shoved the beer into the hooker’s hands.

  “Why don’t you go throw those in the cooler I’ve got in the bedroom. I’m gonna go take a leak, and I’ll meet you in there in a minute.”

  “Any’ting you wan, big man,” answered the prostitute in heavily accented English.

  He patted her on the rear, then headed for the bathroom. After relieving himself and rinsing off in the shower, he padded toward the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  Ponder stopped at the doorway. The light was off. He smiled lustily. Nothing against Chinks, but I’d rather have the lights off anyway, he thought.

  “You in there, honey?” Ponder asked almost sweetly. It had been a while since he’d gotten laid and his member was already rising to the challenge. There was no answer from the bedroom. Maybe this one liked to play games.

  He fumbled for the light switch so he wouldn’t trip over the mess he’d left in the room. Through his drunken haze, he remembered that the only light in the room came from a lamp on the bedside table.

  “Shit,” mumbled Ponder, as he tripped over one of his canvas bags on his way to find the lamp. Sure would’ve been easier if she’d left it on, dammit.

  Just as he reached under the lamp shade something came crashing down on the back of his head.

  +++

  Ponder’s head was pounding. He struggled to open his eyes through the searing pain. What the fuck happened? A moment later, he realized he couldn’t move his arms or legs. Panicking, he forced his eyes open. It took a second for his vision to focus.

  He was lying on his back looking up at the ceiling. Ponder looked left and right and saw that someone had strapped him to the bed.

  Someone dressed in traditional Pakistani robes walked into view. The person’s face was covered with material from a black headdress.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Ponder croaked.

  The robed figure unwrapped the headdress and stared down at him. Ponder looked back in complete shock.

  “You were expecting someone else?” Cal asked.

  Ponder couldn’t find the words to speak. He’d used every ounce of his skill to cover his tracks.

  “I’ll bet you’re wondering how I found you.” Cal smiled and turned toward the living room. “Why don’t you come in here, Neil?”

  Neil Patel walked gingerly on a new prosthetic device. Assisting him was the blond-haired sniper, Daniel Briggs. Nick Ponder’s mind screamed. He was in Pakistan tracking down that damn Benjamin. He’d hoped to somehow kill the Pakistani and re-kidnap Patel. It looked like the double-crossing raghead had lost his prisoner too.

  “Double surprise, Nick. I’ll bet you thought your buyers had Neil hard at work by now,” said Cal.

  “How?” Ponder managed to ask.

  Now it was Neil’s turn to grin. “While you had me shutting down that power plant, I planted a program on your server. It not only infected and tracked that computer, but it also sent all the information about everything you hold electronically back to our servers in Tennessee. The minute I had access to my laptop we started tracking you. We’ve been reading every email you’ve sent and listening to every phone call you’ve made.”

  “Not too bad, huh?” Cal asked. “We figured you might be coming to get your money back from the Pakistanis. It would’ve been easy to take you at any time, but ‘ol Snake Eyes over there,” Cal nodded toward Daniel, “thought we should wait and see how your investigation progressed.”

  When Ponder didn’t respond, Cal continued. “Nick, now you’re gonna tell us what you found out at your whorehouse meeting.”

  Ponder felt like a fool. Already disgraced and dead broke, tomorrow was supposed to be his chance for payback. Not even a week before, he’d been so sure of himself. He was supposed to be on some exotic beach drinking all day and screwing all night. Now he didn’t know what to say. Ponder shook the helpless feeling away. His confidence returned when he remembered that he was dealing with Goody-Two-Shoes-Stokes’ son. They might rough him up a bit, but he’d been through worse.

  “You can go fuck yourself, jarhead.” Ponder grinned at his comment.

  Cal shook his head. “Go get Higgins.”

  Daniel left the room to make the call to the battered van on the street below. Two minutes later, Dr. Higgins walked into the bedroom with a leather medical bag.

  +++

  As with the FBI agent and the traitor, Ponder talked soon after the drugs took hold. Cal now had Benjamin’s location. He’d instructed Higgins to administer the reversal drug that would bring Ponder back to normal awareness. Dr. Higgins nodded to Cal when he felt Ponder was back to his old self.

  “Thanks for your help, Doc.”

  “Anytime, Calvin. I’ll be in the van.”

  Higgins left, surrounded by four robed SSI security staff.

  Cal turned back to his prisoner. “Well, Nick, now that we have what we need, we don’t need you anymore.”

  “What are you gonna do, kill me?” Ponder laughed.

  Cal stared back, unblinking. Instead of responding, he pulled out a pistol with a suppressor screwed onto the barrel and stepped up to the bed.

  “Come on, man. I’m sure we can work something out,” Ponder offered.

  “We have Neil, the money, and the buyer’s location. Tell me what you might possibly have to offer, Nick.”

  The comment shook Ponder’s bravado.

  “You have the money?” he asked.

  “Oh, didn’t we mention that? Because Benjamin had Neil use your computer, we easily tracked the money and took it. So you see, Nick, we don’t need you anymore.”

  Ponder’s eyes went wide, his mind finally comprehending the danger. He’d underestimated the Marine’s ruthlessness. Before he could respond, Cal extended the pistol and fired two rounds into Nick Ponder’s face.

  “That was for Brian.”

  Chapter 42

  Hanna Lake, Balochistan Province, Pakistan

  6:37am, October 2nd

  Benjamin relished his early morning rowing on the nearly empty lake. Rowing was a passion he’d picked up while studying at Oxford University nearly twenty years prior. He didn’t like much about the Brits, but he appreciated their love of history and sports like cricket and rowing.

  After being on the lake for close to an hour, he had worked up a good sweat. In a country where physical fitness was un
common, Benjamin was a rarity. He never overindulged and, unlike the majority of his countrymen, Benjamin never smoked. His lithe body was a testament to his dedication. There was always the occasional newcomer that would laugh about his workout routine, but that reaction was always their last. The jokester quickly learned that Benjamin’s physique was the least of his worries. There was a reason he’d become one of Pakistan’s leading terrorists.

  This morning’s row was especially important because it gave him time to think. His current predicament was aggravating, but did little to unnerve the unflappable assassin. Not only had he lost his entire team, he’d also lost Neil Patel. The only satisfaction he’d received after the berating from his masters was finding out that someone had apparently stolen all the money the Pakistanis had stolen back from Ponder. Luckily, Benjamin had nothing to do with the technological aspect of the operation. Some poor Pakistani geek was probably already dead for failing to protect their masters’ funds.

  A plan was starting to form in his head as he pulled his racing shell up to the small dock. Standing up, one of his bodyguards handed Benjamin a towel.

  “Any phone calls?” asked Benjamin.

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Pull the car around. I want to go home.”

  His three bodyguards trotted off down the road while Benjamin finished drying himself with the towel. Throwing on an Adidas windbreaker to ward off the chill, he stretched as he waited, still mulling over his options. The master terrorist still didn’t know who had stolen the funds and where Neil Patel had ended up. It bothered Benjamin that a new enemy had somehow ambushed him and probably ended up with Patel. None of the feelers he’d put out had yet to find any of the information he needed.