by Joshua Hood
Forcing himself to breathe, Mason prepared to slip back to his men, when a shadow loomed over the edge of the wadi. It began to elongate as the man standing above him drew closer, and then stopped, right above him.
His breath caught in his throat, and he froze, fighting the urge to look up. He heard the guard spit into the darkness, followed a second later by the sound of liquid splashing on the ground.
The smell of urine was almost overpowering as the man began pissing. Mason waited for him to finish, but the guard seemed to have the largest bladder on record. While the situation would have been hilarious at any other time, all Mason could think about was the fact that at any moment the man might look down and see him crouched in the shadows.
The ground overhead declined slightly toward his position, and as the man relieved himself, a steady stream of urine began dripping down the wall of the wadi and collecting near Mason’s boot. Finally, the man let out a long fart and began walking to where Zeus and Blaine were hiding.
“Grinch, where are you, buddy?” Mason implored silently, wondering how in the hell the guard had gotten so close without being taken out. He was afraid to use his radio, but as the seconds ticked by, he realized he was going to have to do something.
Suddenly he heard a gentle snap followed by a heavy thud, and then the sound of metal bouncing off the ground.
“Tango down,” Grinch whispered over the radio.
“About fucking time,” Mason muttered, moving his boot away from the piss puddle, then, without making a sound, he crept toward the two sleeping men.
Holding the rifle across his body with his left hand, he slipped his knife from its Kydex sheath. Mason slammed the blade into the first man’s eyeball, twisting it deep before pulling it out. Turning instantly to the second guard, he placed his hand over the man’s mouth and dropped his knee into his sternum.
The man’s eyes shot open, and he tried to squirm free but Mason placed the blade on his throat and whispered in Arabic, “If you move, I will kill you.”
He waited for the man to nod his understanding before using his left hand to hit the talk button on his radio. “Okay, come on up.”
A few moments later, Blaine filed by, moving to a position where he could cover the front of the wadi. Zeus took a knee next to Mason, covering their prisoner with his rifle.
“Did you piss on yourself?” the Libyan asked, sniffing the air.
“Shut the fuck up. You got him?”
“Yeah, I got him,” Zeus said, jamming the suppressor into the man’s ear.
“Do not move, my friend, or I will put a large hole in your head,” he said in Arabic.
Mason put away the knife and got on his radio once again.
“Are you asleep up there? I thought he was going to piss on my head.”
“Sorry, boss,” Grinch said. “I had to take care of a dog, and by the time I was on target, he was right on ya.”
“Where the hell did he come from?”
“There has to be a fighting position somewhere near you. The fucker just appeared out of nowhere.”
“Well, keep your eyes open; we need a second.”
“Roger that.”
“Find out who he is,” Mason said to Zeus before climbing over the edge and pulling the dead body into the wadi.
Mason stayed up top and could hear his friend begin interrogating the man as he scanned the area for the fighting position. The rocks and gravel dug into his hands and knees as he crawled a few feet forward, almost falling into a small hole that had been expertly concealed.
“Sneaky fucks,” he said, regaining his balance. After ensuring that there were no more surprises waiting in the desert, he returned to Zeus.
“He says a man paid them to take him across the border just after nightfall, and then told them to come back here and guard the house,” the Libyan explained.
“Was there an American with the man?” Mason asked the terrified guard.
“H-he is in the house,” he stuttered in Arabic.
“How many men are guarding him?”
“There is no one. He is alone.”
Mason placed his palm on the man’s forehead and pushed down hard. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I would not, I swear it. He is alone.”
“Where did they cross into Iraq?”
“Near Rabia. He had men waiting for him at the crossing.”
Mason wondered if the man was telling the truth, but there was only one way to find out. He produced a set of zip ties and quickly pulled them tight around the man’s arms and legs. Tearing off a section from the dead man’s tunic, he used it to cover the guard’s eyes and mouth.
He didn’t have the men to post a guard, but left the man with a warning: “If you move from here, my men will kill you. If you make any noise, they will kill you. Do you understand?”
The hostage nodded, and Mason got to his feet, motioning for them to advance to the target.
They were twenty feet away from the target house when they noticed the wadi was filled with trash and odds and ends thrown out by the villagers. Mason quickly climbed out, sprinting to a roughly made barn so he could pull security. Inside, the animals began to move restlessly around the enclosed pen as Blaine hurried past him and took up a position ten feet away.
Zeus was the next to pass, slapping Mason on the shoulder as he crept by. Once he was set, Mason got to his feet. He gently slapped Blaine on the back as he passed, letting him know that he was the last man. Within moments, he found a spot where he could observe the target house.
The structure looked exactly like it did on the imagery they had pulled up on the laptop, and Mason scanned the open area as he waited for his men to link up with him. He tried to cover all the angles that presented themselves while checking the roofs of the adjoining buildings for any guards. By the time Blaine got set beside him, he was pretty sure they were alone.
Mason felt Zeus move up behind him, and forced himself to wait for him to squeeze the back of his arm—signaling that he was ready to move—and together they moved to the front door.
Zeus reached out for the latch, making eye contact with Mason before tossing it open. The American caught the door with his left hand, wincing as it creaked on ancient hinges. He pinned it behind his back leg and scouted out the interior with his IR floodlight. It was so dark inside that all he could see was a wall to his right, and he lifted his muzzle, signaling Zeus to enter the house.
The Libyan stepped into the room, his laser blinking as he scanned for targets. Mason hooked right, checking the hard corners and Blaine stepped in behind Zeus. The door creaked closed behind them, cutting down the amount of ambient light in the room
Mason depressed the pressure pad that activated his IR flashlight, holding onto the area while Zeus and Blaine moved deeper into the structure. The infrared flood cut through the dark interior, casting shadows that were invisible to the naked eye. Once he was sure that his sector was clear, he moved to link up with Zeus.
He came around the corner just as Blaine disappeared into the adjacent room. Then Zeus’s somber voice came across the net:
“You need to see this.”
CHAPTER 23
* * *
David took the long way to get to his room, and let his mind mull over what Renee had just told him. He’d wanted to finish the conversation but didn’t trust Parker’s sudden arrival. What little advantage he had would be gone by the time Parker left her room.
Before he unlocked the door, he knelt to check the piece of tape he’d stuck to the frame. After insuring that the makeshift seal hadn’t been broken, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.
His room was void of any creature comforts, and besides the neatly made bed, nothing suggested that anyone actually lived there. Unlike the rest of the rooms, the walls were free of pictures, and the only object on display was a towel hanging from the front of his wall locker. That, and a roll of clear tape on his desk.
David spun the combination of the lock hangin
g from the handle and snapped it open when he felt the dial begin to tighten. The door swung noiselessly outward, revealing a neat row of hanging clothes and toiletries arranged on top of a chest of drawers. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and placed it in his mouth. That was followed by his small switchblade, which he stuck into a small notch he’d cut in the floor of the locker.
David pried open a section of the floor, revealing a small duffel bag. It contained a stack of passports bound together by an old rubber band and a dusty computer that had seen better days. He slipped the computer and the passports into his leather bag, closed the lid of the trapdoor, and locked the wall locker before getting to his feet.
The computer had belonged to General Nantz, Colonel Barnes’s direct superior. Mason had discovered it in Bagram before killing the traitorous general in a room very similar to the one David was standing in now. He should have turned it in or destroyed it, since it connected him directly to the murder, but David was never one to follow the rules.
After slinging his leather bag over his shoulder, he ripped a piece of tape from the roll on his desk and stepped out into the hall. The spy made sure the hallway was clear before kneeling down to affix the fresh piece of tape to the door frame. Then he headed back out to the tarmac.
The hunt was on.
CHAPTER 24
* * *
What was he doing here?” Master Sergeant Parker asked as soon as he was sure Mr. David was out of earshot.
“He wanted to know about the operation,” Renee answered honestly.
“I didn’t know you guys were close like that.”
Renee suddenly realized that Parker was jealous, which she found strange since David was old enough to be her father. She had to admit that she’d thought about what a relationship with Parker might look like, but every time the notion came up, she pushed it out of her mind.
Men like Parker didn’t go for girls with baggage, and that’s exactly what she had. Renee had tried having a relationship with a fellow soldier once before—in fact, it was one of the reasons she had joined the military in the first place—but it hadn’t lasted, and she’d promised herself that it was the last time she mixed business and pleasure.
Looking at Parker, it was easy to see why she’d considered breaking that rule. Not only was the man extremely handsome and self-assured, but there was a gentleness about him that calmed her rough edges. He was the only man on the team who’d accepted her, and something about him felt very safe.
“You know he got me on the task force,” she said.
“Is that all there is?”
That edge hadn’t left his voice. “Why do you care?” she teased.
“Who says I do?” he asked with a grin.
“Oh God,” she said, realizing that she was flirting, and suddenly feeling very self-conscious about it. “Did you come over here to interrogate me—or did you want something?” Renee demanded, desperate to redirect the conversation.
“You impressed the hell out of Warchild today, you know that?”
She was back on the offensive. “You act like you’re surprised.”
“No, it’s not that, I just—”
“You what? Thought that I’d fight like a girl? I don’t know what you heard, but I didn’t get here on my knees.”
She could see even before she finished talking that she had taken it too far. He turned toward the door. “Forget it, I just wanted to come by and check on you. That’s all.”
Renee realized that she didn’t want him to leave, and to stall him, she began talking about David.
“He wanted to know who the target was, but he seemed more interested in the source than anything else,” she said ominously.
“Who?” Parker asked, thrown by the sudden change in direction.
“David. Mason was there when Boland was taken. He managed to get hold of one of the bad guys.”
“One of the guys who took Boland? Did he say anything?”
“Yeah, he said he was working for a guy named al Qatar.”
She was looking for any tells, giving him away, but instead Parker seemed pleased. “Have you told the colonel? Maybe we can find him.”
“No, and I hope you don’t tell him either.”
Parker frowned at her, not understanding, as he moved over to the bed and took a seat on the wrinkles left by Mr. David.
Renee cursed herself for saying anything. She could tell that Parker was puzzling over her hasty remarks. He’d never had to work both sides of an operation before and usually didn’t trouble himself with anything that didn’t concern the mission at hand. Men like him followed orders without ever asking why, and she could tell that he didn’t like the idea of keeping information from the boss.
“Don’t you think it’s something he needs to know?” he asked finally.
“Look, I’m sorry I said anything, but we need to keep this between us. If David thinks it’s important, he’ll pass it up the chain.”
“So you want me to keep the team in the dark about one of our own guys? That doesn’t seem right.”
“You have to trust me on this. Please don’t say anything.”
Renee could tell by Parker’s expression that he wasn’t okay with what she was asking. She had made a mistake, said too much, and now he had leverage over her.
“I need you to promise me,” she insisted.
“Okay . . .” he said, but she wasn’t sure if he meant it.
• • •
Parker left Renee’s room in search of Warchild. He checked his team leader’s room and, when he didn’t find him, headed to the gym.
“Give me a spot,” Warchild said as Parker walked into the gym.
“You want a lift-off?”
“Nah, I’m good. Just don’t let me drop it on my face.”
Warchild grabbed the bar, his veins popping out as he lifted it off the rack and slowly brought it down to his chest. Parker quickly counted the plates on either end of the bar and realized that Warchild was lifting 325 pounds.
“So, what happened with Renee?” he grunted, pushing the weight back up to the starting position.
“The dude from the CIA, David Castleman, was in her room. I guess he slipped in without anyone seeing him. He said that Mason knows about al Qatar.”
Warchild’s eyes flashed with alarm. “How is that possible?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“Well, you need to find out.” Warchild panted.
“Dude, how am I going to do that?”
“You’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“This mission was totally fucked,” Parker said, voicing aloud what he’d been thinking on the way over. “We lost Sanchez and Starks, and the new guy, the SEAL—”
“Bonds—his name was Bonds,” Warchild groaned, forcing out five more reps before racking the weight and jumping to his feet.
“It’s fucking combat. Don’t tell me you’re losing your nerve already.”
“You know that’s not it. I just don’t like putting my ass on the line without knowing what’s going on.”
Warchild remained hard as nails. “No one asked you to join the Anvil Program; you volunteered, remember?”
“Yeah, but with Barnes dead—”
“You believe that shit? You really think that Kane took the boss down?” Warchild asked, taking a menacing step closer to Parker.
“Shit man, I don’t know.”
“All you got to do is what I tell you. You see what happened to Boland when he stepped out of bounds. Is that what you want?”
“Boland deserved better.”
“Boland was a piece of shit who got sloppy. The only reason he was out there was because he was trying to fix his own fuckup.”
“What do you mean?”
“Guys like him—and fucking Mason—they think they’re so smart. Always running around acting like James Bond and shit. Let me tell you something about Boland. All that dude had to do was take a box from point A to B, and he got jacked by
a bunch of ragheads riding around in Toyota pickups.”
Parker knew his team leader hated both Boland and Mason, and he was beginning to see how personal this operation was to him.
“You’re a sled dog, and your job is to pull the sled. Me, I’m a team leader. My job is to know what’s going on. Do yourself a favor and get that through your head before you end up like Mason.”
Parker was starting to get fed up with the hard-guy act.
“You know they cleared him, right?”
“Who, Mason? Please, that dude is a terrorist and a traitor. If he and that bitch Renee knew you were with the program, they wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in your skull.”
Parker was confused. “It’s not like that.”
“Believe me when I tell you it’s exactly like that.”
CHAPTER 25
* * *
The blood covering the passenger side of the Ford F-250 glistened in the early morning sunshine. Al Qatar’s first thought was to have his men clean it, but after a few moments of staring at the garish vehicle, he thought it looked better this way.
Moving to the tailgate, he took a seat. Before him, a plume of thick, black smoke rose above Rabia.
Jabar, al Qatar’s most trusted lieutenant, had selected a handful of his best men and overran the border crossing easily. The Iraqi police who hadn’t run had set up strongpoints within the government buildings, but Jabar had burned them out, and now the city was bathed in smoke.
“Emir,” Jabar said, drawing the jihadist’s attention to the man kneeling before him.
Al Qatar looked scornfully at the wretched captain. The man’s neat uniform was covered in the blood that had poured out of his broken nose, and both of his eyes were already beginning to swell.
“I thought we had reached an agreement,” al Qatar said, blowing a cloud of smoke into his eyes.
“Emir, I only did what I was ordered,” the man babbled, garnering a savage kick from one of al Qatar’s men.
