Flawlessly Executed (Dark Horse Guardians Book 3)

by Armstrong, Ava

  Their timing was impeccable. The four men in the café were on the floor twenty minutes later surrounded by concerned diners. Ben’s informant sent him a text that simply said, gone. He received another text giving him the heads up for the next hit. This one worried him most of all, even though the killing itself would be simple. He hated uncertainty, and this scenario had too many environmental variables.

  The van stopped down the street from an ornate ten-story residential building in the city of Aleppo. People bustled around on the sidewalk during the early morning hours all seeming to be going somewhere. Nate and Ben, still dressed in burkas entered the lobby of the building and Ben approached the front desk and gave the man behind it an envelope.

  Glancing at his watch, Ben noted it was exactly 7:00 AM. Ben and Nate stood waiting for the elevator and when it came down empty they got in and pushed the button for the tenth floor. Ben used his cell phone and his custom app to disable the security system for a few minutes. As the elevator doors opened, the target stepped inside. Once the elevator doors closed, Nate knocked the terrorist down to the floor and pinned him with his foot. With one swift action Ben slid the five-inch steel blade over the bastard’s jugular vein. Moving aside to avoid the spurting blood, Ben kept his foot on the target’s head.

  Nate secured the dying man’s body as he kicked and squirmed for what seemed like two or three minutes. They stopped the elevator and prevented the doors from opening, waiting to make sure the target had bled to death. Then they programmed the elevator to go directly down to the ground floor and then back up to the tenth without stopping, thus giving them time for escape.

  They hopped off at the street level. The elevator doors closed and traveled upward. They’d be long gone by the time it made it to the tenth floor and anyone found the son-of-a-bitch. Killing this man had been particularly satisfying for Ben and Nate. They knew his dossier of crimes was long, but among them was the taking off innocent lives, raping young boys and girls, and killing many Americans with much less mercy. Beneath the burka Ben smiled a little with the knowledge he had just killed a high profile murderer. There was some satisfaction in that.

  Entering the sunshine outside, Ben and Nate walked a few blocks calmly stopping to peruse goods in a busy marketplace. Ben purchased a bag of fresh figs. A few minutes later the van picked them up. They had one more stop to make. This one had even more variables but he knew it was all a matter of timing. Every interruption or distraction had been accounted for, so he hoped.

  Ben received a text that simply said, twenty-two. That gave him the number of targets at the next stop. The van was now moving toward the mosque on the outskirts of town where radicals were planning their next moves to take over Syria and Iraq. The SEAL team was already on site disguised as Muslim men and Moshe’s men were positioned.

  The mosque was filled with men, mostly young ones, and this was a big recruiting meeting for the cause. Europeans and Americans filtered into the mosque nodding at the men outside not realizing they were the last faces they’d see. Ben smiled as he realized this would be much better than twenty-two.

  An unexpected high value target breezed through the entrance of the mosque and one of the Dark Horse Guardians recognized him and gave Ben the code name. Ben’s earpiece heard the voice of Tom Wilson whisper, “Popinjay.” This was unexpected. The mission would change slightly. Ben spoke softly into the tiny microphone, “Detain. Plan B.” The team and Moshe’s Unit all checked in with an Arabic text symbol. Somewhat relieved, Ben knew what he had to do.

  Women were not allowed in the mosque, so Ben and Nate were dropped off a few blocks away. They walked by the building and noticed that the SEAL team and Moshe’s men were all in place. They had taken out all of the security men around the mosque quietly. The SEALs now stood in place of the guards, dressed exactly like them. The men nodded to Ben and Nate as they walked by. The insider in the mosque was a tiny mosquito drone. Ben viewed the images and sound on his phone as he watched Jake Wilson, garbed as an Arabic man, enter the mosque and hand the high value target a note. Abdul Rasin was alarmed by the note. It said his home was on fire and his wives and children were injured, possibly dead.

  Ben watched as Abdul walked swiftly with Jake Wilson to the front of the mosque. The moment the two emerged they got into a waiting vehicle that sped away. Ben knew Jake and Elvis would drug Abdul and take him to the black site for interrogation. This man was holding hundreds of young girls and selling them as sex slaves. Ben wanted to personally interrogate him. Jake and Elvis had their orders. Ben focused on the task before him; the mosque and its occupants and sending them to Allah.

  With eyes riveted on his watch, Ben noted it was exactly 7:45 AM. With the high value target removed, he and Nate were now far enough away to watch the explosion. The SEAL team made their exit and The Unit wasn’t far behind. Two armored vehicles picked the men up a block away.

  They felt it before they saw it; the concussive wave was impressive. If viewed from afar, it appeared as if a giant meteor struck the building and it exploded. Ben smiled. There would be nothing left to pick through. There was a pile of rubble in a concave hole, the size of half an acre, and an acrid smell blew past them. The air was thick with dust and dirt. Cars and trucks nearby were toppled and alarms were sounding. It was a cacophony of sound that was pure music to his ears. Adrenaline coursed through him and every breath he took, every step, each movement had purpose.

  Right after the initial explosion there were several others, diversions set by the team on their way out. The men were split into two vans. Both vehicles were now prepped to look like delivery trucks for a food service. They traveled South in the direction of the safe house located in Jordan. The guards at the checkpoint had been paid well to allow the vans to pass through. The trip was 300 miles along back roads. Most of the men slept from exhaustion. After three and a half hours and making it through each checkpoint, the men scrambled into the Jordanian safe house and made it to the bunker beneath. Exhausted and hungry they ate with little discussion and crawled into a sleeping area.

  Ben had never been this tired in his life since BUD/S training and Hell Week. He was dehydrated and jacked on adrenaline. His head was throbbing from the level of concentration he had maintained since daybreak. Although he was exhausted, he couldn’t immediately fall asleep. There was one more task at hand, Abdul Rasin. Ben looked at Moshe and said, “Let’s do this.”

  The interrogation room had a dirt floor and smelled like a freshly dug grave. Abdul Rasin was bound in a chair, his forty year old face highlighted by one fluorescent light on the ceiling. When Ben looked at the man sitting before him, he felt no remorse for what would come.

  In the early morning hours after enduring several hours of Ben’s special brand of truth serum, Abdul Rasin was crying like a baby. Moshe brought cold water and a cup of coffee for Ben while he did what he had to do. This was never pleasant. It was akin to gutting a deer after the kill. It was a gory messy task but necessary to get to the meat of the matter. Abdul was on the floor tied to the chair. The chamber they were in was soundproofed and felt like a tomb. Exhausted, Ben looked at Moshe.

  “Thanks for the coffee, bro. So, what do you think? Do we have enough information?” Ben queried.

  “I think we do.” Moshe nodded.

  Ben lifted his H&K MK23 and put two bullets straight through Abdul’s skull.

  “I’ll get a couple of guys in here to get rid of this mess.” Moshe said.

  “Yeah, I need some sleep.” Ben sighed. “We have a long day ahead tomorrow. Make sure that information gets to the spec op guys over here pronto.”

  “I’m sending it to them now. Get some sleep.” Moshe replied. “The commander said a raid is being planned as they are receiving these coordinates. You did your bit, man, let it go. They will handle it.”

  The men were in their bunks, some snoring loudly. Ben curled up on his cot, stiff from the long night and exhausted. He turned on his cell phone to view his home security system, his
only connection to Lara. He wanted so much to call her, to hear her voice, to make her laugh. Instead, he took her sweatshirt out of his bag and buried his face into it. The moment he closed his eyes he fell asleep.

  Before dawn the men piled into two different armored vans and made the ninety mile drive back to Israel. Ben slept in the van. They took the less traveled Jordan Valley crossing, located north of Allenby. There was little traffic except for the occasional unmetered taxi. Once in Israel the mood lightened. The men became talkative and were swearing at each other. They complained about being hungry and wanting a shower. Good, Ben smiled. Things were almost back to normal.

  Ben received a message that the raid was planned to rescue the young children being held in a highly secure compound in Ar-Raqqah, a city ninety miles East of Aleppo on the banks of the Euphrates River. Abdul Rasin could punish the innocents no longer, a bonus in his mind.

  ~ Lara ~

  When Detective Thompson left, Lara wasn’t prepared for the feelings that would flood over her when she opened the boxes of Hawk’s personal items. She found design notebooks written in his hand and she felt as if he was in the room speaking to her. Tears filled her eyes and couldn’t stop the sobbing that racked her. Oh God, she felt Hawk was there watching her. But he wasn’t there to comfort her now as he did when Eliot died. Hawk was always there when she needed him for anything. But, now he was gone.

  She pulled his landscaping clothing out of the trash bag. “Oh, God, help me…” she wailed and rocked back and forth on the floor holding Hawk’s soiled shirt. Einstein put his thick body against her in an effort to calm her. He licked her face once or twice and Lara buried her face into the soft fur of the dog’s body.

  There was a knock at the door and Lara looked up to see Rusty, her mother, Bettencourt and Monique. She opened the door and Bettencourt embraced her. “I’m sorry, honey.”

  Lara’s mother made breakfast and Monique helped.

  Rusty put the newspaper on the breakfast table and spoke with confidence, “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Lara. Don’t think we won’t.”

  ~ Doctor Duncan Norris ~

  His vehicle was now moving at a high rate of speed away from the marshland on Cape Cod. Abby’s body would not be found for a long time; he was sure of it. His flight for Cancun was leaving in two hours. He parked his vehicle at the airport in the long-term parking and took a shuttle to Logan. He didn’t need to pack anything. He had a credit card and some cash on him.

  There was no other alternative than to exit the country and set up practice in a warmer climate. Once in Mexico, he’d assume a different identity. There were plenty of forgery experts and he had enough money to create a new persona. As he stood in line to board the plane, he tried to think of a new name. Or, perhaps once he was in Mexico, the forgery experts would select a name from a deceased person.

  Duncan Norris felt no remorse for what he did to Abby. He comforted himself with the rationale that he had to kill her. She would have told the authorities about the shooting and he’d be behind bars. No, there was no other way. She was a beautiful woman, but in the end she had only been a sex slave for him. He would find more vulnerable women in Mexico. And, maybe they’d be younger and even more beautiful.

  The line at the airport snaked around several times but the ticket clerks were processing passengers quickly. Good. He wanted to get out of the country as quickly as possible. It was going to be a lengthy flight with several stops, but he planned to sleep on the plane. He was so very tired all of a sudden.

  ~ Ben ~ (in Israel)

  It was 4:00 PM and he was in the mess hall with the team when he had an overwhelming desire to contact Lara. He’d been gone for almost three weeks with no contact, except watching her on the security cameras occasionally. This only served to put aside the worry he had about her safety. The images did not comfort him in any other way. In fact, watching her as he did made him ache inside with loneliness.

  He tapped the phone to open the security video feed and noticed Lara in the kitchen with Rusty and her mother. Bettencourt and Monique were there, too, and they appeared to be soothing her. Lara was still in her bathrobe. God, it was 9:00 AM and she never would be in her robe unless she was ill ~ or something happened.

  Immediately he dialed her number and saw her pick up the cell phone.

  “Ben, is that you?” His heart stopped beating for a moment.

  “Darlin ~ what’s wrong? You’re usually at work by this time of day.” He almost didn’t want the answer to his question.

  “It’s terrible, Ben. Hawk was shot. He’s dead. And, Abby is missing. They were on a date together. Oh God, who would’ve done such a thing?” Lara sounded like she had been crying.

  A million things ran through his mind at that moment. Abby was missing. His thoughts immediately went to the good doctor. “Lara, hand the phone to Bettencourt.”

  Bettencourt’s deep voice boomed over the phone, “Yes, I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking the same thing.”

  Ben exhaled. “Check flights leaving Logan Airport for other countries. If that bastard did it, then he’s heading out for a long trip. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one, Bett.”

  “I’m on it. Gotta go.” Bettencourt clicked off.

  ~ Bettencourt ~

  “Sorry, but I have a lead that I need to follow up on, pronto. I hope you’ll excuse me.” Bettencourt said on his way out. The look on Lara’s face was all he needed to motivate him. He was on his cell phone speaking with security at Logan airport as he climbed into his vehicle, “Yes, the guy’s name is Duncan Norris. Detain him. I’m Officer Randall Bettencourt. Don’t tell him why you’re detaining him. Just hold him long enough for me to take him into custody.”

  He was in street clothing, off shift, but he raced to Logan Airport speeding to get there in record time. Arriving at Logan, Bettencourt flashed his badge to security and parked in a break-down lane. He pushed through the long line searching for the face of Duncan Norris, but he was nowhere to be seen. The damned place was crowded. It was two days before Thanksgiving and wouldn’t you know it, Duncan Norris had managed to get lost in the crowd.

  He scanned the flights heading to sunny destinations. If he was a killer, which flight would he be taking? Jamaica? Mexico? Oh God, it was a frustrating guessing game. He marched to the desk and revealed his badge.

  “I need some help here, please. I’m searching for a man by the name of Duncan Norris. He may be trying to leave the country. He’s wanted for interrogation for a possible kidnapping and murder.” The moment he conveyed the information to the ticket agents, they hastily searched the passenger lists. One of them called out to Bettencourt.

  “Hey, I’ve got that name here.” The agent shouted. Bettencourt ran to the desk and looked at the flight information. Mexico.

  “Stop the plane from taking off. Get someone here to stop it.” Bettencourt ordered.

  “I’m sorry sir. That plane just taxied and cleared the tower. It’s in flight. It will have a stop in Atlanta, but will continue on to Cancun from there,” the agent informed him.

  Frustrated, Bettencourt hopped back into his vehicle and dialed Ben’s phone number.

  “He’s gone. I just missed him, damn it. He’s headed for Cancun.” Bettencourt was back on the highway heading for Maine.

  ~ Ben ~

  “Okay, give me the flight number. I’m heading there. Don’t say a word to Lara. Just tell her my mission will be one or two more days, then I’ll be home. And, don’t say anything to anyone about this. This is strictly between us.”

  “I’ve got another target who’s moving rapidly to Mexico guys.” Ben spoke to Moshe and the others, “I’d love to sit and shoot the shit with you, but I’m out of here.” The SEALs slapped him around and Ben’s Dark Horse Guardian team called him a pussy. A few other insults were hurled around as Ben rapidly departed. He gave them his middle finger.

  Moshe was by his side, “Use the jet. It’s fueled and ready. I’ll take you. My pil
ot will get you to Cancun in record time. He’s the best.”

  As Ben climbed into the passenger seat of Moshe’s vehicle, Ben smiled, “You’re one of the only people in the world that understands this shit.”

  Moshe was somber, “Whoever he is ~ I pity the bastard.”

  Ben climbed into the salon area of the private jet. “Thanks, bro. I owe you.”

  Moshe gestured, “Meh, get the hell out of here.”

  The pilot started the engine and checked with the tower for take-off. Within thirty minutes Ben was cruising at 30,000 feet soaring toward Mexico.

  It was a fourteen-hour flight with one stop for refueling. Ben slept on the jet and when he woke, was pleasantly surprised to find a meal prepared for him by the flight attendant. He ate and checked with the co-pilot. “What’s the ETA?”

  “We are almost there.” The co-pilot replied. “Put your seatbelt on. As soon as we get clearance to land, it will be a rapid descent. Gotta take it when you can.”

  Ben complied and got into the comfortable overstuffed recliner. He strapped himself in and pondered what he would do once he landed in Cancun. The flight the doctor was on had landed three hours ago. He’d have to make up time trying to find him. But usually there was a money trail or some way to get information. Once more he became a hound on the hunt.

  He packed his gear into a rucksack and secured the straps. His H&K MK23 pistol and a 9mm Glock with suppressor was stashed in his sack. His five-inch blade was sheathed and nestled against his thigh.

  The important thing would be to blend in with the populace…to look Mexican. The tourist town of Cancun was packed with vacationers at this time of year. The stewardess gave him some make-up; she used a bronzing powder as she sunburned easily. Ben took the bronzing powder and added some water. He slathered the stuff on his face and neck. He was instantly tanned. His dark sunglasses concealed his eyes and he rummaged in his bag for a hat and a wig. He also found a fake mustache. The stewardess provided eyelash glue to secure the mustache to his upper lip and he thanked her.