Fatal Mistake: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 11)

by Michael Anderle

  Fatal Mistake

  The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone™ Book Eleven

  Michael Anderle

  Fatal Mistake (this book) is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2018 Michael Anderle

  Cover by Andrew Dobell, www.creativeedgestudios.co.uk

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, September 2018

  The Oriceran Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2017-18 by Martha Carr and LMBPN Publishing.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Other Revelation of Oriceran Universe Books

  Books by Michael Anderle

  Connect with Michael Anderle

  Fatal Mistake Team

  Special Thanks

  to Mike Ross

  for BBQ Consulting

  Jessie Rae’s BBQ - Las Vegas, NV

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  James Caplan

  Kelly O’Donnell

  Mary Morris

  Keith Verret

  John Ashmore

  Paul Westman

  Daniel Weigert

  Angel LaVey

  Micky Cocker

  Larry Omans

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  Lynne Stiegler

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  1

  Major Davies looked up at the sky with a smile. Dark clouds blocked the moon and stars, and a torrent might start any minute. Bad weather would cut down on visibility, which would only benefit his team. The closer they could get without being spotted, the harder it would be for their targets to rally their defenses.

  Someone up there wants us to kick a little ass for the good old USA.

  Light chatter filled the clearing as the soldiers performed their final checks on their weapons and equipment. Men cleared chambers and slapped magazines into their rifles. A couple of men verified the charging status of their railguns. Others tapped away at the control pads on their wrists to verify the operational status of their tactical exoskeletons.

  The major liked the new tech, expensive as it was. It didn’t require him to do anything fancy. He could simply run and jump like normal. The enhanced strength allowed them to wear full armor without tiring, not just a bulletproof vest.

  Faster, stronger, and safer. They could haul heavier weapons without vehicle support. Nice little bonus for any soldier, especially considering the dangerous enemies they were about to fight.

  Going to show those terrorist bastards what it’s like to have the US Army give them a proctology exam.

  The major glanced down at the anti-magic deflector hanging around his neck. From what he’d been told, the crystals couldn’t be underneath their armor and wouldn’t interfere with their exoskeletons, but he didn’t like having to rely on magical tricks.

  It didn’t matter what he preferred, though. That was just the world they lived in now.

  He glanced down at his rifle.

  Running all anti-magic rounds. This might end up being one of the most expensive small-squad raids in Army history.

  Major Davies chuckled at the thought. He couldn’t put a price on the safety of the United States.

  Another soldier looked up from his rifle and smiled at the officer. “How are your wife and your new daughter doing, sir? What is her name again?”

  “They’re fine, Sergeant. And my daughter’s name is Emily.”

  The sergeant nodded. “Surprised you didn’t take some time off.”

  The officer chuckled and shook his head. “It’s because I have a new kid that I didn’t want to take time off.”

  Sergeant Jeffries grinned. “What, don’t like the crying? Wanted to wait until she’s sleeping better?”

  “Nope, nothing like that. It’s just, having a kid reminded me of why I joined the Army. Reminded me of the important things out there I need to protect. I went through the same thing when my son was born.”

  The other man’s smile faded, and he gave a slow nod. “I know what you mean. When my son was born last year, it put a lot of this shit into perspective. It’s his first birthday next week, and my wife’s going all out.”

  Major Davies laughed. “My wife did that for our first kid. I told her it wasn’t like he’d remember, so she told me she was going to go even crazier for our daughter’s first birthday to force her to remember when she’s older.”

  The sergeant shrugged. “At least you have some time to prepare yourself. A year’s a long time.”

  A man and a woman approached, both in dark suits with wand holsters hanging from their belts.

  Major Davies kept himself from frowning. The Paranormal Defense agents had been nothing but professional, and he was grateful to have active magical support. He just wished the DoD would hurry up and better integrate active magical beings directly into the military. They couldn’t keep fighting their battles using old tactics and strategies, or constantly be borrowing resources from non-DoD departments.

  The male agent nodded to Davies. “All our people are ready, Major.”

  He nodded back. “We should get ready to roll.” He cleared his throat before speaking to the troops. “Everyone saddle up. I shouldn’t need to remind you that our targets are extremely dangerous. Our rules of engagement are clear. We will breach the compound, and we will terminate every terrorist sonofabitch we run into.”

  He grabbed his helmet from the back of his exoskeleton. “Let’s show these assholes that they can’t do whatever the fuck they want just because they know a little magic.”

  The gathered soldiers yelled a loud chorus of “Hooah.”

  The major slapped on his helmet, and a second later the augmented reality heads-up display popped onto the front of his visor.

  “This is Hammer 1,” he transmitted. “Eagle 1 and Salt 1, do you read?”


  “This is Eagle 1. Five by five.”

  “Salt 1. Five by five.”

  Major Davies started toward the edge of the clearing, the massive oak trees looming over him. The exoskeleton-clad Special Forces operators fell in behind him, two squads of six. Each squad contained four Special Forces operators and two magic users from the Paranormal Defense Agency. Eagle 1 and Salt 1 were comprised of other officers who helped provide tactical support from a field tactical center they’d set up about ten miles away.

  No one wanted to risk drones spoiling their surprise party, so for now, the teams’ support personnel were depending on helmet cams and vital readings for their understanding of the tactical situation on the ground. Even close air support was too risky, given the powerful and magical nature of their enemies. Chaff and flares didn’t stop fireballs.

  The teams left the clearing and entered the forest. The tall trees swayed lightly in the wind.

  “This is Hammer 1. Engage night-vision mode.”

  An eerie green highlighted the trees and owls watching the marching operators.

  I wonder if any of those birds work for the terrorists? These days you can never tell what’s up. Fucking magic.

  “Hammer 5, what do you got for me?”

  The wizard took a few seconds to respond. “There’s been no change in any of the warning magic. We’ve maintained surprise, Hammer 1.”

  “Let’s pick up the pace, people, before the terrorists leave the compound because they’re bored.” The major’s brisk walk turned into a jog, fallen branches crunching under the exoskeleton’s feet.

  They’d have to keep it reasonable. The witches and wizards couldn’t keep up with them if they started sprinting at full speed, and they needed to have the flashy magic for the coming battle. Anti-magic deflectors might help close the gap between the normal humans and the magic-using terrorists, but there were a lot of unusual spells they might encounter.

  Several minutes later the forest began to thin, revealing a nearby fence and a complex of buildings. Most were one story, but a few taller.

  Almost time for the fun to begin.

  The major smiled. The target site used to be the official corporate campus of a big tech company that had made a shitload of money back in the day, but they’d failed to pivot smartly once magic came back into the world. They’d unloaded the buildings to an interested private party who allegedly just wanted it for corporate team-building retreats, but FBI, NSA, and PDA investigators had learned that the little corporate retreat was something far more sinister.

  Yeah. Just nice and normal, which is why our satellite and high-altitude recon coverage spotted roving guards and more than a few weird-looking creatures. Awful lot of magical security if this is just some place to do boring team-building shit.

  According to his briefing, it was housing terrorists associated with a recent museum heist in LA. If it hadn’t been for James Brownstone, practically a walking platoon by himself, the terrorists would have escaped with all the artifacts. He didn’t know much about their motives, only that he’d been told they were associated with something called “the Council,” which was some sort of terrorist group.

  The major didn’t give a shit who they were or about the particulars of their ideology. People who fucked with the country got put down. Simple as that.

  He’d sworn an oath to defend his country against all enemies, foreign and domestic. There was nothing in there about exceptions because the bad guys happened to use magic.

  “Detecting magic, Hammer 1,” Hammer 5 reported.

  “Everyone halt,” Major Davies ordered. The soldiers and agents stopped and raised their weapons and wands.

  “It’s detection magic,” explained Hammer 5. “Passive field. They don’t know we’re here yet. We should be able to take it out, but there’s a risk that they’ll sense what we’re doing.”

  “We all expected this. Doesn’t matter. We’re damn close now.” The major nodded. “Hammers 5 and 6 and Salt 5 and 6, clear it out. Everyone else, hold position until Hammer 5 gives the all-clear.”

  The witches and wizards raised their wands, murmuring incantations and gesturing precisely. A shimmering curtain of energy appeared a few yards in front of them, and after a few seconds, a gap appeared.

  “All clear for about ten yards on either side,” Hammer 5 reported.

  We’re coming for you, Council.

  The teams moved forward. With the first magical barrier defeated, a far more conventional fence waited to thwart them next, but there were no sentries in the immediate area.

  Too cocky for your own damned good. It’s not like some punk mercs are coming for you.

  “Hammer 2, prepare to open that up,” Major Davies ordered. “Once we’re through that fence, we should expect heavy resistance. Trust your training and equipment no matter what you see.”

  Hammer 2 jogged toward the fence and grabbed a pair of wire cutters from his tactical harness. Sometimes the simplest solution was the best.

  Major Davies took a deep breath and raised his weapon. “Everyone prepare for breach. Let’s kill ourselves a few magical terrorists.”

  No. Not good. This recipe is shit. Five stars? Who the fuck would give something with these ingredients five stars? Do they have no taste buds?

  James stared down at his phone as he thumbed through barbeque recipes. The rest of the men from the Brownstone Agency milled around their tent. It’d been a long day of cooking barbeque for the competition. Now that night had fallen, most of the crowd was gone, but the PFW team still hadn’t heard the results from the judges. It was taking them an unusually long time to deliberate, and James wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  He sighed. Whatever happened that night didn’t change what the Brownstone Agency barbeque team needed to do in the future.

  We need to keep pushing the boundaries. That’s the only way we’ll keep winning. We’re nowhere near perfection. Only okay temperature control, but the balance in the sauces were off a little this time. Good but not great. Maybe we need to go to daily barbeque practice.

  James rubbed his chin. If they cut back on some of their tactical training, maybe a bounty or two, they could get in more barbeque practice.

  He grunted and chuckled. They were bounty hunters first and pitmasters second. He needed to keep that in mind.

  Maybe in a few years, we can all retire and just focus on barbeque. That might not be such a boring life.

  Shorty strutted back and forth with a huge smile on his face. “I know we’re gonna take first this time. I’m telling y’all, that’s how it’s gonna happen. We represented just a month ago, and now we’re gonna show all these bitches who the real power in barbeque is in California.” He slammed his fist into his palm. “I don’t even know why the rest of them bothered to show up. They just want to go back and cry to their mamas about how they got their asses handed to them by PFW, the Kings of Barbecue.”

  Max pulled off his glasses to wipe some grease off his face before putting them back on. “I’m feeling good myself. A lot of people were coming back for more food, and they were saying nice things about it. Not one person had anything bad to say.”

  James looked up from his phone. “Don’t get too cocky. We’ve got tougher competition this time—a lot tougher. Did you guys taste any of the other teams’ food?”

  “Why bother with crap when you’ve got the prime shit right here? Don’t want to ruin my refined sense of taste.”

  Several of them shouted their agreement.

  James liked their enthusiasm, but he was worried they were building themselves up for disappointment. He’d sampled most of the other teams’ food, and there were some quality efforts. The PFW saucing wasn’t up to the same level as their efforts at Del Mar. He honestly wasn’t sure they’d be able to win. It all depended on the judges now.

  “Just saying you should be prepared in case we don’t win. Even good barbeque can get passed over, depending on the day. It’s like I’ve been telling you—mas
tering barbeque is harder than bounty hunting.”

  Shorty shrugged. “Come on, big man, don’t be like that. It’s just like with the bounties. We started with level ones and worked our way up to crazy-ass witches. We already had our training at Del Mar, and now we’re ready to show that we’re on the next level.”

  Trey snorted. He was sitting in a chair with his arms crossed, one of the few on the team who was not convinced they were going to win. For whatever reason, the man’s cockiness extended into all areas of his life except his belief in the team’s mastery of barbeque.

  Good. Some things in life are sacred and shouldn’t be taken lightly: Family, God, and barbeque.

  Trey shook his head. “We ain’t even have Mack here today. We’re lucky if we place at all. Sauce was just…not there. Not shit, but not the best, either.”

  James raised an eyebrow, impressed by his protégé’s improving palate.

  Shorty picked up a rib and held it above his head like a sword. “Our sauce was damned fine. I respect Sergeant Mack as a cop and a pitmaster, but that ain’t mean I’m not gonna do better than him. Students become the master and all that shit. That’s how this is supposed to work. You know what I’m saying?”

  James chuckled. It’d been almost a month since the museum incident, and since then neither he nor Shay had been in any serious trouble. The Brownstone Agency had been taking down bounties regularly in both Las Vegas and LA. A few annoying level threes had popped up in the previous week, but with a little off-the-books help from Tyler, James was able to surprise and capture them before they caused any serious trouble. It’d been quiet, at least by his standards.