Danger Close

by Allen Manning

  * * *

  John stepped through the door, walking into the darkened room. Travis followed close behind, flipping the light switches and bringing the space to life. John dropped his bag in the corner and moved his joints to alleviate the stiffness of the flight and drive.

  A moment later, Curtis came in to join the others. “I’m never going to get used to this Florida humidity.”

  “It’s good for your skin,” Travis said. “I get some serious dinosaur elbows whenever I have to leave.”

  “We need to find Blanchard now,” John said, ignoring the casual conversation. “What’s Parker’s status?”

  Travis rubbed his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “If you’re thinking of getting his help in this, I don’t think that’s a good—”

  “No. I just need to know that he’s alright,” John said.

  Travis relaxed, softening his expression. “Of course. I’ll have someone send us a detailed update.” He put a hand on John’s shoulder. “Our men and women will keep him safe. Parker is in good hands.”

  “Thanks,” John said with a nod.

  “What’s the next step, then?” Curtis asked.

  “Track the Alphas,” a voice said, catching the group off guard.

  Curtis flinched and jumped forward, turning to face Millie. “Christ, girl. Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

  Millie raised her brows. “I walked in the same door you did. No sneaking involved. In fact, I intentionally made some noise so I wouldn’t frighten you like a little mouse.”

  “Yeah, well you need more practice at it.” Curtis still clutched his hand to his chest as he moved to stand next to John.

  “There were no complications in your last task, I take it?” Travis asked.

  “None, sir. They’re at the safe house now,” Millie said.

  “What task? Who is at the safe house?” John asked.

  “Emily and Jennifer,” Millie said with a smile.

  John’s shoulders visibly slumped, an unseen tension draining away. “Where?”

  Travis smirked. “If we told you that, it wouldn’t be much of a—”

  “Virginia,” Millie answered. “Not far from Langley.”

  She looked at Travis and Curtis. “What? He deserves to know.”

  “Thank you,” John said, shaking Millie’s hand.

  “My pleasure. That little girl is a lot tougher than she looks.”

  “Yeah. Her father taught her well.” A smile materialized on John’s face. He turned to Travis. “I need to talk to them.”

  “Of course,” Travis said, already scrolling through the contact list on his phone. “We can talk afterward.”

  * * *

  “We’re good. There are plenty of armed people around,” Jennifer Colt said. “And Emily really likes the pantry. It’s full of all the junk food I won’t buy for her normally.”

  John bellowed in laughter. “That sounds like her alright. Make sure you get to know everyone around you. The same goes for Emily too. If anyone—”

  “If I see anyone I don’t recognize, bring it up to the other agents. I got it. I’d like to think you're too paranoid, but the past couple of years has been pretty crazy, though.”

  “It’ll all be over soon,” John said. “I promise.”

  “Thank you again. And please be careful, John,” Jennifer said.

  “I will.” John wiped a hand across the front of his pant leg and flexed his fingers to spend more of his nervous energy. “Can I talk to Emily?”

  “Of course.” Through her words, John could almost hear her smile.

  Jennifer called out to her daughter in the background. A few seconds later, thudding footsteps raced toward the phone.

  “Uncle John, they have real cookies here! Not those Oreos like old people eat.” Emily’s words streamed out fast, trying to match her pace running to the phone earlier.

  “Hey, I like Oreos, and I’m not old am I?”

  “Yeah, but that’s okay. You’re not fat like—”

  “Emily!” Jennifer was already on the other side of the room, but John could hear her clearly as she scolded the young girl.

  He laughed, forgetting the dangers all around them for that moment.

  “Anyway, the TV is huge. It’s got all the channels, and I think there’s a pool out back.”

  “It’s too cold to go swimming, isn’t it?” John asked.

  “Maybe, but I need to keep up my training, like you and Daddy told me to,” Emily said. “I started Jiu Jitsu too. It’s so much fun.”

  “Yes, your mother told me already. Make sure you respect your training partners. You’re supposed to make each other better, not show off your skills.”

  They continued talking about everything and nothing as Emily dominated the conversation, giving John a verbal description of the furniture, her room, and all the food in the house. John felt a surge of joy wash over him as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye with a thumb as he ended the call.

  Emily deserved a life like an average child. But now she had to spend far more time training with firearms and hand to hand combat than most her age. Instead of spending a few days a week building a decent base to build on later in life, the young girl had to devote hours a day studying war.

  It wasn’t the upbringing that he had wanted for her.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Coming into the briefing room, John could see Millie and Curtis smiling as they watched him enter. The happiness from his all-too-brief phone call still left a visible joy in his expression, and they picked up on it clearly. He handed the phone back to Travis and took a seat at the desk, taking in a deep breath to prepare his mind for the mission at hand.

  “As I asked earlier,” Curtis said, “what’s the next step, then?”

  “Blanchard,” John said. “We track him down and drag that cockroach out into the light to expose his crimes.”

  Travis placed his palms on the table. “Parker’s research is extensive, with a lot of remarkably valuable intel. But it’s a lot to pore through right now.”

  “So we start digging through it,” John said. “He’s got to have some leads on where Blanchard has run to.”

  “Or,” Millie started, “we track his assets. Money, contacts, Alphas.”

  “The assassins,” Travis said, looking at John. “I had Millie join us because, as you know, she is the most knowledgable person that we know about The Order and their Greeks.”

  The screen blinked to life as she linked her laptop to the larger display, so the others could see what was on her computer. An image came up showing two armed men approaching. The quality matched resolutions from most commercial security cameras. Another screenshot replaced that one, showing one of the men from the previous image, with a second person too far away to recognize.

  “These are screenshots from the security cameras where the assassins attacked the first two targets,” Travis said. “The next one is from their attempt on your life.”

  When the third image popped up, John’s muscles tensed. The image quality was sharper, showing a little more of the facial features but not as good as the human eye at the same distance. Still, he had no trouble recognizing the assassins as they approached the garage where Parker had been shot.

  “Do we know who they are?” John asked.

  “Not yet,” Travis replied.

  “I’m working on it, though. I’ve been digging into the whole program for a while now,” Millie said.

  Travis approached the display hanging on the wall. “As you all know, Millie has insider knowledge, but The Order has done a good job of keeping the different programs separate.”

  “What do you know up to this point?” Curtis asked. “About these two Alphas, I mean.”

  “Not much. But I can tell you that these men are from a much earlier group than I was,” Millie said. “In fact, judging by their relative ages, I would say the two were from different groups as well.”

  The screen zoomed closer on the assassin i
n front of the last image.

  “This man, the spotter, is older than the actual shooter. He’s the leader,” she said.

  “What does that mean for us?” Curtis asked.

  Millie pulled her mouth into a tight straight line and looked at Travis before answering.

  “Nothing right now,” Travis said. “But it confirms Millie’s theory that the program has been active for longer than we originally believed.”

  “The Alpha program was The Order’s first,” Millie said. “It has been in operation for decades.”

  A series of images came up showing the aftermath of high-profile murders and espionage in war-torn nations.

  “Wait, so The Order is responsible for assassinations sparking war all over the globe?” Curtis leaned forward, resting his elbows in the table. “Next you’re going to tell me John Wilkes Booth was an Alpha asset.”

  “No, nothing that crazy,” Millie said.

  “And this isn’t crazy?” Curtis gestured to the display. “All these bodies and conflicts attributed to The Order and their assassins, and we’ve never crossed paths with them until this point?”

  Again, Millie looked at Travis before she spoke. “Not exactly.” She typed out a quick series of commands and a new set of images came up. The first few showed autopsy photos of a tall, light-skinned black man with a sprinter’s build. The last showed the cause of death as he lay impaled on the base of a broken oak support column.

  Curtis looked away. “Hey, maybe warn me before you start showing this stuff. I just ate.”

  John stiffened and folded his arms across his chest, sitting up straighter. The recognition ignited a new fire in his eyes.

  “You know this guy?” Curtis asked, noticing John’s look.

  “Gordon,” John said. “Warren Ratcliffe’s bodyguard, hired by Pryce Windham.”

  “Not hired, created,” Travis said.

  “What, like a clone?” Curtis asked.

  Millie shook her head. “Mr. Chambers means Gordon was most likely kidnapped as a child and raised as a weapon in The Order’s Alpha program. Maybe one of the first. They made him.”

  “I’m sorry, but I feel like this is all too much to process,” Curtis said, pressing his fingertips into his temples. “Alphas, assassinations, warlords. How does this all connect to this Blanchard guy?”

  “Damien Blanchard has close ties with key members of The Order,” John said. “It was something Parker had been researching when…when we were attacked.”

  “What kind of ties?”

  “He’s possibly one of the major players in The Order,” Travis said.

  “I feel like you know where I’m going with this, but what is The Order?” Curtis asked. “None of this appeared in any of the reports when we were with the Hostile Response Division.”

  “It’s a small group of powerful and influential people that want to control the world,” Millie said. “They claim that they want to bring order to the globe, but it’s basically just a power grab.”

  “That’s the same plans as a cartoon villain,” Curtis said.

  “Except The Order has accomplished far more than anyone expected,” John said. “We can’t underestimate them.”

  “So this Damien Blanchard is connected to them, and possibly Pryce Windham.” Curtis stood and paced the room. “Who else?”

  “Parker’s research showed only two possible candidates,” John said. “Barrett Anderson and Rebecca Flair.”

  Curtis spun to face the front. “Anderson? The INSEC guy?”

  “Yes,” Travis said. “Barrett Anderson is the acting CEO of International Security.”

  “What about Flair?” Curtis asked. “What’s her deal?”

  “We don’t know,” Travis said.

  “Parker wasn’t able to dig up much about her,” John added.

  “Maybe it’s just a way to make people think there’s someone else while those three yahoos are running the show,” Curtis said. “Is this Rebecca Flair even real?”

  “Yes,” Millie said, eyes narrowed as she kept her gaze fixed forward.

  “Oh, well, I guess that’s good enough for me then. Care to elaborate?” Curtis asked.

  “Not particularly,” Millie said. “But trust me, she’s the one pulling all the strings. The others are there to provide their resources to The Order. She may not have started the Alpha program, but she is directly responsible for expanding it.”

  “The Greeks,” Curtis said, connecting the dots in his head. “Do we know if the other programs have assets out there that we should be worried about? I mean, maybe they don’t even have any recruits ready for the field.”

  “We left it out of the report, but Captain Donovan Hawke was a Beta asset,” Travis said. “Trained in the use of all small arms and military tactics. A battlefield specialist.”

  “He may have been the first, but he won’t be the last,” Millie said.

  “And how about the Gamma assets?” Curtis asked.

  “The program has been eliminated,” Millie said. “I don’t foresee any contact with any other Gammas in the near future.”

  “And where is she getting this information from?” Curtis rubbed his face, growing more exasperated. “How is she able to get this information when Parker couldn’t even find it?”

  Travis raised his brows, giving the Lieutenant an introspective look.

  “What, you mean this girl? She’s a Gamma?” Curtis asked. “I feel like I’m in the dark here. I’m going to need a lot more information if we’re going to continue our hunt for Blanchard.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll catch you up,” John said. “We need you on this hunt, brother.”

  * * *

  Damien’s seat bounced and creaked as the small propeller plane rolled to a stop. The flight was far less comfortable than the private jet in which he started the journey, but it was the only available craft to reach this far into the country.

  The pilot wheeled the Cessna toward a waiting line of jeeps before killing the engine. Trading his suit for a more comfortable shirt and a pair of khaki pants, Damien stood and rolled up the sleeves, securing them with the tab and button built into the garment. He grabbed the hat from the seat next to him and exited the plane.

  Stepping down, his boot hit the dusty surface with a soft tap. I’m home, again, he thought.

  “Mr. Blanchard, welcome back,” a man in mirrored aviator sunglasses said.

  He took the sunglasses off as his smile pulled the corners of his mouth and eyes, showing the wrinkles of his sun-tanned skin. He had flecks of silver running through his sandy blonde hair, but his body showed those around that the man maintained a high level of fitness.

  Damien shook hands as the man’s steel cable forearms flexed. “Thank you, Mr. Bowers.”

  Hanging the sunglasses in the collar of his shirt, Zane Bowers turned and shouted a few commands to the men behind him. The crew leaped into action running to retrieve the bags from the plane and stowing them in the waiting jeeps.

  “Gabriel and Micah are on their way as well,” Zane said. “I’ll make sure that they reach the compound, personally.”

  Damien smiled and nodded as he looked out across the landscape. Africa’s plant and animal life were hearty and enduring, growing strong in what most consider a harsh climate. He liked to think it was just nature’s way of testing them. The thought made him feel more at home.

  CHAPTER

  8

  The cold water splashed across John’s face. He pressed his hands over his eyes and wiped down before drying them. Walking out of the bathroom, John made his way to the kitchen, greeted by the aroma of the coffee maker finishing the first brew.

  The air in the small apartment was much warmer than what he was accustomed to at home, but it was a welcome change. He filled a mug and grasped it with his fingertips along the top edge as he took a seat at the kitchen table. John glanced down at his watch. 4:48 A.M. He knew Travis would be awake already by now as well.

  John took a breath and reached fo
r the phone, dialing Travis Chambers, looking at his watch one more time as it rang.

  “Morning, John,” came the reply after the first ring. “I was expecting the call a little sooner. Did you sleep in?”

  “Just figured you needed the beauty sleep,” John said with a wry smile.

  “Are you calling about the plan to go after Blanchard?”

  “No. Not yet anyway.” John closed his eyes and took another sip of coffee. “How is Parker doing?”

  There was a long pause. John’s heart thumped faster. He could hear Travis reaching over for something.

  “Sorry about that. Just had to grab my laptop. Last I heard he was improving, but let me check the latest.”

  John gripped the edge of the kitchen table, the wood creaking.

  “He’s showing a remarkable recovery, actually,” Travis said.

  The wood creaked as John eased his grip, the table almost sighing from the relief. “I need to talk to him. Tell him I’m sorry I wasn’t able to keep him safe.”

  “They’re keeping him sedated. He won’t know you’re there,” Travis said. “He’s doing much better than they expected, but he’s still not out of the woods yet. His blood pressure is still very low.”

  “I—”

  “John, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. You saved his life. Even Parker would tell you the same.”

  John’s jaw tightened as he let out a breath through his nostrils.

  “I know you don’t need me telling you this, but the mission is all you should be focusing on right now. We’re going into the enemy’s territory and second-guessing yourself is dangerous.”

  Sitting back in his chair, John looked out the window, watching as the red glow shifted to orange on the horizon. These people, The Order, had tried to take so much from him. Turned his world upside down. Every step of the way, the fire inside John burned bright, driving him forward. But unlike his time as a Ranger, this fight was continually close to home. Always threatening his friends and family. It hollowed him out.