by Ronie Kendig
Lord God—what does this mean?
Cardinal scowled at the man with an extra jowl. “Burnett, if this means what I think it means—”
“We don’t know what it means, so I’m going to start digging. You get out there and find that girl.”
God have mercy on her. Because if this trail was leading where he thought it might, Aspen Courtland could already be dead.
Twenty-Three
Boys’ Orphanage, Djibouti
Sitting in the shade of the building, the warmed cement and plaster against her back, Aspen smoothed a hand along Talon’s ribs. Lying on his side did little to ease the heat discomfort. But at least they had shade and water, thanks to the generosity of the orphanage director.
She’d never been a good liar or pretender, so she’d just gone with a narrow version of the truth: she was waiting here to meet someone. That had been good enough for the director, who said he’d gladly welcome visitors, especially those who would give something to the children, whether laughter or treats.
A guilty knot tied in Aspen’s stomach. She had nothing for the children. Muslims viewed dogs as unclean, so most of the adults were appalled that Aspen had brought Talon. The children, however, could not be dissuaded.
In fact, there had been peals of delight and laughter throughout the morning as she demonstrated some of Talon’s simpler skills.
Back at Lemonnier she’d spotted Rankin gearing up, and intentionally plying on his guilt over Austin’s death/disappearance, she convinced him to give her a lift into the city. She’d said she was going to the orphanage and let him assume what he wanted. He agreed to pick her back up on their return route. Two more hours.
Aspen blew the curls off her forehead. With an exhausted groan, Talon stretched then went limp as he drifted off to sleep. Though Aspen would love nothing more than to catch a few Zs, she couldn’t risk missing whoever had sent the note.
A shadow slid out and touched her, drawing her gaze to the doorway. “You want eat?” Director Siddiqi asked.
Talon pulled off the ground, ears and attention perked. He let out a whimper, and his tail thumped twice. Peculiar. Had he understood the word eat, or was it something more? But here, Aspen knew the orphanage struggled to feed the dozens of boys. She’d seen the kitchen and the grill donated by the servicemen and women at Lemonnier. In a world where your next meal wasn’t guaranteed, she wouldn’t dare take from the mouths of children.
“No, thank you.” She’d brought her pack with Talon’s food and hers, knowing that anything could incapacitate Talon, and that meant he wouldn’t be at the top of his game to track.
“You friend not come?”
She swatted away a fly and the discouragement that lingered over the contact not showing up. “Not yet.” She squinted over the empty play yard, eyeing the cars that sped by. Surely whoever had gone through the trouble of getting her off the base wouldn’t just leave her here. “Soon, though.”
He smiled and nodded. “Soon.” Director Siddiqi turned and let the building swallow him.
Had the note instructed her to meet somewhere less safe, less open and public, she wouldn’t have risked everything—including Dane’s anger and disapproval. She’d had several hours to attach a meaning to what he’d said: “Don’t trust me.” Though part of her railed at those instructions, a deeper part of her couldn’t let go of one thought: her trust terrified Dane. Aspen shook her head as she pulled out a few treats.
Talon’s ears and head perked up, and he cast those soulful eyes at her as he pushed himself into an attentive “sit” position.
“Focus,” she gave the command that instructed him to look into her eyes, a confidence builder, the dog trainer had said.
His gaze bounced from the treat to her eyes almost instantly.
“Yes! Good boy.” She gave him the treat and smoothed a hand over the top of his head. Now how was it he could do one-on-one moments so well, but add noise and he was a puddle of panic? Like with the children. Oh man, she’d gotten so worried. He’d started shrinking and looking for a place to hide as the children shrieked and squealed, running around the playground.
“We should’ve stayed in Texas.” She rustled his fur, gave him another treat, then leaned against his thick shoulder. “And I shouldn’t have rushed you back into working, but I am glad you’re here.” It almost felt like she had a piece of Austin with her. And a very good friend. “I wouldn’t want to be here without you, Talon.”
At his name, he flicked his gaze to hers and swiped his tongue along her cheek.
Aspen laughed and turned away to avoid a slobber-fest. As he nudged her hand, she noticed his nose wasn’t quite the shiny black it should be. She pushed to her feet. “C’mon, boy. Let’s get some water.”
She led him into the building and made her way to the kitchen. There, she filled a water bottle, dropped in two tablets, tightened the lid back on, then shook it. Using his collapsible bowl, she dumped in the contents and let Talon lap it up.
Voices skated through the hall outside the kitchen. Stern, quick words. Probably one of the teen boys getting chewed out again. She’d seen it a few times, only because the boys were pushing their boundaries as expected. Lord knows, Austin did it enough back home. Mom and Dad were at their wit’s end, then Austin up and asked them to sign for an early entry into the Marines. Dad was relieved, Mom terrified—“There’s a war going on. They’ll ship out.”
Ironically, it wasn’t Austin who died a few months later. It was Mom and Dad.
Talon consumed the water in what felt like two heartbeats. She opted not to give him more because they might be stuck here for a while. Especially if the mystery guest didn’t show.
Call of nature came. She stood, dried out the bowl, then folded it and stuffed it back on her pack. Since she couldn’t very well tie Talon off to a tree—there weren’t any—she led him down the hall to the bathroom. A cozy little closet of a thing that stunk to high heaven. Aspen made quick work of relieving herself then used her own sanitizer to clean her hands as she made her way out of the bathroom.
Shouts stopped her. They were still arguing? Gran would’ve said to take a switch to his backside. Nowadays, if you did that, someone would call it abuse.
But then…something about the argument piqued her curiosity. She ambled down the hall, back toward the kitchen.
“This has nothing to do with you, Nazir.”
“But this my orphanage. Bad things happen here, they close doors. Where boys go?”
Bad things happen? What bad things? What was the director talking about? Was this man threatening him?
“Not my problem, old man. She has the dog with her?”
In the space of two heartbeats, Aspen’s world upended. He’s asking about me! And Talon! She took a step back.
Talon whimpered.
Aspen flinched and tensed. He must be reading her body language, smelling her fear. She lowered her hand and rubbed his ears, trying to reassure him—and her. This couldn’t be what she thought it was.
“Yes.” The answer had been so quiet…so resigned…
“Good.” A laugh sounded. “Say, anyone here know how to make dog stew?”
Hand over her mouth, Aspen backstepped. Talon stayed with her. She spun and hurried down the hall. Out the door.
“There! Stop her!”
“If you go out there,” Candyman stated, sounding perturbed, “and they kill you? Don’t blame me, man.”
“If they kill me, I doubt I’ll be able to blame anyone.” Cardinal grinned. Waited for the point to sink in.
“Hey, this isn’t a joke. You’re talking about exposing yourself, possibly getting peppered full of holes.”
“I’d prefer to skip the peppered full of holes, but yes, I will be exposed.” In more ways than one. Going after Aspen compromised every Cardinal rule that existed. But he’d already lost one Courtland. He wasn’t about to lose another.
Timbrel fumed. “I should be going with you.”
“What you shoul
d be doing,” he said as he slid a black skull cap over his head, “is going over every log and surveillance video with Candyman. Find out who gave her that envelope. Find out what it said. Find out where Rankin went and why.”
Watters entered the room and locked it behind himself. The way he lingered there, staring at the knob, then the floor, set off a dozen alarms in Cardinal’s mind.
“What’s on your mind?” Cardinal asked.
They shared a long look, one that told him Watters was surprised he’d been read that easily, but then the next, more lingering message became one of camaraderie. “It makes no sense.”
“What’s that?” Cardinal stilled, watching the captain. A man he’d grown to trust. A man whose instincts were crazy accurate.
Watters hiked up a leg and slumped against the table around which the rest of ODA452 had gathered. “Base is locked down due to a supposed ambush, right?”
Cardinal gave a slow nod as he continued gearing up.
“We can’t find out who got ambushed.” Watters held up a finger. “There’s one team out right now—Rankin’s team. On a supply run through the city. There’s been no activity that Burnett or his people can find. No radio chatter for help, backup, nothin’.”
Very interesting. “That non-chatter chats a lot, doesn’t it?” He smirked.
“Something’s going on.”
“It’s some kind of messed-up insanity. Wasn’t this supposed to be an easy mission—get in here, find the man who’d been lost?” Candyman sat on the end of the table, his boots on a chair. “And now, we got ambushes with no personnel, a missing dog handler, and a spook about to go rogue.”
“Spook?” Timbrel straightened and looked at Candyman. Then Cardinal.
“He’s referencing your insinuation that I’m not who I say I am.” Cardinal lifted the water bottle and took a nice long guzzle.
“I swear, Markoski, if you hurt her…”
“Hurt her?” Cardinal laughed. “Timbrel, I wouldn’t be willing to get my head blown off if I wanted her hurt.”
“I didn’t say what you wanted.” She jutted her jaw. “I know your type. And she’s too sweet to get it.”
“Okay.” Candyman hopped off the table. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Agreed. Keep your eyes and ears open. See what you can figure out.” Cardinal huffed.
“Don’t worry. I intend to find answers.” Watters had a rare type of steel running through his veins.
“Time to play decoy with the dummy.” Candyman grinned, and how he didn’t end up with a mouthful of facial hair, Cardinal didn’t know. And right now, he didn’t care. His only concern was Aspen.
“Ready?” Watters’s eyes seemed to sparkle with the thrill of what they were about to do.
With a nod, Cardinal looked to the others. Adrenaline thrummed through his blood. Creating a diversion so he could slip through the barriers was risky. They didn’t want anyone getting hurt, but they also had to make this significant enough to draw eyes off the perimeter fence on the southeastern side. He’d bolt to the water and swim his way to safety. Grab some dry duds from a street vendor then check in at the hotel. That should be high-profile enough to attract some attention. Get his name on radars. He just prayed—and if he could find a chapel he would pray, honestly and truly—he could get a location on Aspen before someone put lead between his eyes.
They left the room a few at a time, going in different directions. Two here, two that way, one on his way to the cinema. Nothing that attracted attention…that is, unless someone looked close. Bulk could be deceptive, but anyone who did a double-take would figure out he had a second layer of clothes on. They ducked behind the first row of stacked CLUs then scurried to the fence.
Squatting at the perimeter behind one of the cement dividers, Cardinal adjusted the flak vest. Choked back the memory of Aspen’s frightened blue eyes when he’d told her not to trust him. A stupid move. Showing his hand. But the thought of her trusting him when he was nothing she believed him to be…
He shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t be concerned with what happened to her at the end of this mission. But he was. In fact, he couldn’t get away from the thoughts of the moment she discovered he was not Dane Markoski. Watters crouched beside him with the wire cutters, setting up a rerouter for the electrical current so it wouldn’t attract the attention of the MPs.
“If you find her, get word back to us.”
Cardinal nodded.
“Hey.”
The hesitation, the softer tone, pulled Cardinal’s attention to the captain.
“Candyman told me…about you and Aspen.” Watters held his gaze strong, firm. “I don’t care if you have a thing going on, but don’t let it get in the way. Because I’ll come after you for compromising me and my team, and our target.”
He’d never had someone be direct with him like that, in such a friendly but threatening way. Well, he’d had those who were going to cut his heart out if he double-crossed them. That was evil. This was…justified.
“I have one goal, Captain,” he said, meeting the guy’s intensity, “to get her and her brother back, even if I have to die to do it.”
“Good to know.” Watters smirked. “I think her friend would prefer it that way—with you dead.”
“Good thing my fate’s not in her hands.”
Something flashed through the captain’s face. “Whose is it in?”
Cardinal felt like this was one of those defining moments. One of those—admit you’re weak and then you get killed moments—and he wasn’t sure he wanted to face it. “I’d like to hope God’s got it.”
“He will if you let Him.”
Cardinal gave a slow shake of his head. “Not sure it’s quite that simple.”
“Sure it is.” Watters patted his shoulder. “We humans are the ones who make it difficult and complicated. Surrender is the only way.”
Crack!
The first indication of their plan igniting—literally—pounded through his chest. He and Watters gave nods of affirmation that said this is it.
Boooom!
Just a little longer…
Sirens wailed.
Watters cut a hole in under fifteen seconds. “Go!”
Cardinal folded himself through the fence. Once he made it through clear, Watters should bolt back. Double-checking the base conditions and Watters, Cardinal turned. The spot Watters had occupied sat empty. As Cardinal whipped back around, he caught the hulking form of the captain in his periphery, skimming along the barriers back toward the CLUs.
On my own.
He eyed the guard hut and saw two guards pointing toward the explosion Timbrel and Candyman had created with a vehicle. He bolted across the road and over the field.
A crack of gunfire pierced the hot day.
Dirt spit up at him.
His pulse amped up. They’d spotted him. Ten seconds to the water. He pumped it hard, pushing to safety. Feet beating a quick path.
A blazing heat whipped across his ear. He sprinted, darting left. Then right, doing his best to make it impossible for them to get a bead on him.
Five seconds. He freed the first buckle of the vest.
Four.
Water erupted in several distinct spots.
Three.
He ripped an arm free of the vest.
Dove for the water.
Like a lead fist, a tremendous weight pounded into his back.
Twenty-Four
Djibouti City, Djibouti
Neil! Neil, hurry!”
He bolted out of the bathroom in the run-down apartment they’d rented with cash. “What?”
Lina stood at the window, peering through a razor-thin slit in the triple-layered cloth he’d nailed over the hole. “Look!”
At her side, he angled his head to see through the skinny space.
The street bustled with the normal gaggle of women carrying infants and toddlers in slings, guiding other children down the streets as men hurried here and there. “I don’t s
ee anything. What?”
She extended her arm and pointed up the street. “Past the bank.
Watch the shadows.” Lina smelled fresh, even though the shower was anything but. Not for the first time did he consider her beauty, both inside and out. “Not me, out there.”
He grinned and slipped an arm around her waist as he once again checked the ground from their second-story apartment. “I’m still not—”
Something moved, this time north of the bank. He leaned forward a little and shifted toward the window.
Lina held his shoulders as she peered over his left. “Is it…?”
He spied blond curls and yellow fur running beneath the balcony of a two-story shop. “Crap!”
How had she found them? This was unbelievable!
A distant pop froze him.
She slipped into an alley.
His heart stalled. “Someone’s chasing her.”
“Doesn’t that work better for us?”
“Yes, but what if they miss?” He grabbed a ball cap and started for the door. “Lock it. Don’t let anyone in and don’t go anywhere till I get back.”
“What are you going to do?”
Neil hesitated. He knew. Knew beyond a shadow of a doubt but couldn’t tell her. She wouldn’t understand.
Aspen slid around the corner, hauling Talon with her.
Plaster from the arches spit at her. She ducked but kept moving. Talon had kept up with her, but he was limping. They needed a break. Needed rest. Had to find a place. A safe place.
Scanning doors and alleys, she didn’t stop. Couldn’t afford to. Her legs felt like pudding, heavy yet jiggly. Her heart pounded so hard, she struggled to breathe. And Talon, God bless him, continued without complaint.
Not that she could just let him keep going. The dog’s heart was one of the most loyal, going and loving and doing whatever it was to make her happy, but he would let her run him straight into the ground. She had a responsibility to find a place to give him rest.
God, help me!
