Serve in the Shadows Recruitment, page 15
The two embassy guards exited the building, arms of an unconscious man across their shoulders. Despite the black soot and blood across his face, Wray recognized Derek Lawson.
Running up to them, he called a paramedic over while the guards laid Derek down on the sidewalk.
After checking his vitals, the paramedic quickly started CPR and another rushed over to help with chest compressions. A large circle of people gathered around the developing scene, and the firefighters started to keep people back to let them do their job.
A reporter seeing an opportunity for a great picture stepped inside the crowd and lined up his shot, only to have Wray block his picture and “accidentally” push his camera to the ground.
“Get the fuck out of here, kid!” he growled in his deep voice.
Scooping up his scratched-up camera, the young man quickly left.
Another paramedic ran up pushing a crash trolley, and they quickly opened up Derek’s shirt and opened the foil pads, placing them on his right pectoral and apical locations.
Stepping back, they activated the unit, and Wray could hear the machine countdown in Spanish, and then Derek’s body convulsed in a muscular spasm.
The first paramedic leaned down to feel for a pulse in his carotid artery and quickly moved to his wrist with no results.
Wray felt his hopes plummet when they started the procedure again.
Chapter 45
Derek stood on the edge of the bungalow roof, looking down into the backyard. The green grass led to a ravine over twenty feet away with a sharp decline, and the treetops swayed back and forth in the light breeze.
When you were a few months shy of your sixth birthday, flying still seemed possible if you tried hard enough.
The few jumps from the doghouse and front stairs produced no results. The only answer for him was to get higher up for more room to start flying properly.
Standing closer to the edge, Derek realized he wasn’t nervous or afraid of heights, despite being over fifteen feet from the ground. His fears had been replaced by being entirely focused on soaring over the treetops.
Deep breath and….
“What are you doing?” Grant grabbed his arm around the bicep and pulled him back, sitting them down onto the roof.
“I want to fly!” Derek pouted, upset that his big brother spoiled the fun.
Grant just stared at his hand encircling Derek’s upper arm.
It was not the hand of an eight-year-old, but the hand of a grown man.
Physically touching Derek…
“Derek, are you okay? One minute we were in the Ballet, and now we are here.”
Not understanding this new game, Derek squinted his eyes at his older brother.
“I can fly.”
“No doubt you can, Big D. But if you do fly, you may never be able to come home, and I will probably never be able to see you again.”
Staring out over the treetops in the ravine, Derek slowly made up his mind.
“Do you want to play catch? We have time before dinner.”
Smiling, Grant said, “That sounds like a great idea.”
Making their way over to the TV antenna, they climbed down, and a few minutes later, they were throwing the ball to each other out front.
They played until the sun started to set, casting long shadows across the front lawn.
As they were carefree and laughing with their crazy antics, the time seemed to pass slowly.
“Boy’s, it’s time for dinner!” a voice called out from the open window in the living room.
“Coming, Mom!” and Derek dropped the ball and ran into the house.
“Mom?” Grant dropped the ball glove on the grass and turned toward the window. His eyes began to water and he could feel a lump in his throat, as emotions started to overwhelm him.
“Grant, that means you too! Go wash up.”
Grinning despite the tears that started pouring down his face, Grant ran into the house.
I am coming home, Mom.
Chapter 46
Mustafa dropped his daughter off again for another counseling session. After two meetings, she was definitely starting to make solid progress. Enrollment for school would start up this September, with the counselor recommending a normal pattern to help with adjustments.
Walking into the diner for breakfast, Mustafa was greeted by the same waitress, since he had become almost a regular patron.
Placing the tablet down on the table with a black coffee, she asked, “Same order?”
“Yes please.”
Mustafa quickly went through the same procedure with the tablet; however, when he got to the portal site a message screen popped up.
>> Are you ready?
Looking around carefully, Mustafa punched in his reply.
>> Yes.
>> Ask where the bathroom is from the waitress, then proceed down the hall to the rear exit.
>> What about my daughter?
>> We can get her later, once things are safe. Go once your food arrives.
The tablet began to reboot, going back into the “restaurant menu” mode.
Glancing up, Mustafa saw his two minders sitting at the counter, drinking coffee and joking around. A few minutes later, the waitress placed his regular order on the table.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where the washrooms are?”
“Just down the hall, past the kitchen. Second door on the right.”
“Thank you.”
Feeling guilty, Mustafa left a ten-dollar bill tucked under his plate for the waitress to find later. As he stood up and started his way across the diner, the two agents received their breakfasts. With their attention turned momentarily, Mustafa made his way down the hallway past the bathrooms and to the back door.
Pausing to look back over his shoulder, he found himself alone.
Opening the door, Mustafa found a small black Toyota hatchback idling, with an “Uber” sign on the rear window.
After Mustafa jumped in the backseat, the driver quickly placed the vehicle in gear, driving off.
Patting his breast pocket, he could feel the micro SD card.
Soon they will pay. Soon.
Chapter 47
“Welcome back.”
While Derek could barely focus on the words, he seemed to concentrate more on trying to retain moisture on his cracked lips. His tongue felt swollen and dry as it rasped across the roof of his mouth.
“Here, have a few sips.”
A flexible straw delivered the most delicious water he ever had, coating his mouth and throat in cool moisture. Clearing his throat a few times, Derek slowly opened his eyes. Looking down he first saw an intravenous needle inserted into the back of his left hand, being held in place with medical tape.
An older man wearing a light grey suit with no tie and frameless glasses stood holding his water beside the bed. He appeared to be studying Derek.
Looking around the room, Derek knew he wasn’t in a normal hospital, despite the same equipment you would find in one. The room looked more like a private bedroom in a house, with all the furnishings.
Running through quick movements of his feet, legs, and arms, Derek could tell he would be fine despite a little stiffness in joints from the lack of movement.
“How long was I out?”
“Two days.”
Closing his eyes, Derek started thinking back and trying to remember how he got in here…and drew a blank. All the sudden, the voice clicked and it all came rushing back.
“You are John Hubble.”
“I wondered if you would put it together.” The man laughed. “Yes, I am.”
John reached over and placed the water on a side table, within easy reach for Derek.
“A lot of people are very grateful for your actions. The government of the United States, Spain, and Saudi Arabia, for starters.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“From here, things can go two ways. First, the King of Spain would like to publicly thank you and award you with the Medalla Militar, their highest honor. The King of Saudi Arabia wishes to do likewise with their accommodation, and you have received an honorarium from them as well. You are quite wealthy now.”
At this, Derek shook off the last of the cobwebs and sat up straighter.
“As a Ranger, you have gone above and beyond, and the United States government could honor you with great praise and more medals. They seem quite fond of handing those out.”
“You said this could go two ways. I guess that is the first way. What is the second?” Derek reached out and had another sip of water. He seemed almost fully functional again, and very hungry.
“We keep this quiet. The citations you can keep, but not publicly acknowledge. Return to Afghanistan and finish your tour, and once you are done, you retire and come work for me.”
“What about the general? And I still have some unfinished business with my brother.”
“Prince Abdul-Hammid’s actions were to move him up the line of succession. The Saudi Ambassador to Spain has been recalled home with his family. He is now third in line for the Saudi throne. The general has been killing his family members off.”
Hubble smiled a little. “We are about to see the full power of the Saudi king come down on the renegade prince. I doubt there will be enough left of him to make a smudge.”
“And the situation with my brother?”
Standing up, John pressed the button to call the nurse. “You are going to have to trust me on this. We will take care of the situation, but this may take some time. I will be placing this as a top priority.”
“Can I have some time to think on this?”
“No problem. I have taken enough of your time. I had your things brought over from the hotel.”
Derek’s eyes showed a little shock at this.
Laughing, Hubble said, “We are good at our job. It didn’t take too long to trace your route.”
“Okay, if we can talk later that would be good.”
The nurse and a doctor were waiting apparently outside, for they came in together.
“Rest up you are in good care. We will talk soon.”
Derek soon was caught up in a whirlwind of tests and answering questions from the doctor and nurse.
Only one question kept entering his mind.
Where’s Grant?
Chapter 48
Elias Olsson barely moved despite the gravel from the rooftop digging into his knees and elbows. The angled bodied Hensoldt 60 spotters’ scope brought a small farmhouse at a distance into a crystal-clear focus. The small brick home sat at the edge of a farmer’s field, just outside of town. The scope was connected to a small tablet beside him, and set to record. At times, technology could fail, hence a pencil and piece of paper beside the tablet.
Always have a backup plan.
Without looking down, Elias wrote down a series of license plates on a notepad. A new brown Range Rover joined the other two cars in the long driveway, and an older gentleman entered the small home while the driver remained in the vehicle.
After a lifetime of working in the SOG of the Swedish Armed Forces, Elias preferred long-range reconnaissance and acting as a spotter for a marksman. Reading the varying wind changes with elevation and speed of a moving target was like second nature to him. He hoped the Barrett M95 bolt-action sniper rifle would not be used, but he had the five round magazine loaded with one in the chamber as a contingency plan.
With a few delicate turns on the focus adjustment, the windows of the house became clearer. Despite the nice weather and a light two mile an hour breeze from the south-west, all the windows remained closed, and the shades were drawn.
Ninety minutes later, the front door opened and the same man in the suit turned to talk to a man and woman in the doorway. Shaking their hands, he got back in the Range Rover and they drove off.
Gently laying the scope down beside him Elias rolled over onto his side, pulling out his phone he sent a quick text.
All clear. 2 Civilians, 1 Tango. Greenlight.
Picking up the scope, he continued to monitor the house.
*****
Leopard crawling through several acres of wheat fields took time and endurance. The six-man team started out in position before the sunrise, going under a final briefing under the stars in the night sky.
The final approach of fewer than two hundred yards was usually the most critical moment. With the objective in sight, many would start to rush in, making mistakes. However, the discipline of this team held firm and they remained concealed.
Once they reached one hundred and twenty yards from the farmhouse, they spread out into three separate fire teams, staying low and waiting.
The team leader lay in the prone position with his partner, making up the Alpha fire team. Bravo team lay eighty yards to his right, and Charlie lay the same distance to his left. Their interlocking fields of fire covered the rear and sides of the farmhouse. The front, while under observation, would be covered once Charlie initiated contact, turning it into a possible kill-zone.
Sensing the vibration of his phone in his front tactical vest pocket, the Alpha team leader pulled it out for a quick glance then stored it away.
“Charlie team, move into position. Bravo, standby. Green light.”
The throat microphone picked up the quietest of whispers, sending orders out, keeping a tactical advantage. You could communicate with others, yet several feet away you could not be heard.
Charlie team continued the advance and made it to the edge of the wheat field, which bordered a small back lawn of the farm house, then lay in silence for two minutes observing.
No movement came from the house.
Rising to a kneeling position, one man in light brown and green camouflage combats brought his rifle up and began sweeping it left to right of the back windows and side of the home.
“Covering.”
“Moving.” His partner slung his rifle and crouched down low while running to the back of the house. Squatting with his back to the wall, he slipped off the small backpack and pulled out a small black plastic case the size of a brick.
He quietly pressed it firmly into the wall, below the window where it stayed. Then he pressed the keypad to reveal a sixty-second countdown timer shown on the display.
Nodding to his partner, he held up one finger, then pressed the green button starting the sequence and made his way back into the concealment of the wheat. Charlie team quickly made their way to the flanking position.
The peace and quiet of the countryside quickly dissolved into mayhem with the explosive charge detonation. The blast took out a large hole in the back wall exploding into the back bedroom. A woman screamed from another area of the house, as the smoke began to rise up and debris began falling down.
All members of the of the six-man team went to a kneeling position and scanned their arcs, looking out for the target. They could all hear the woman screaming clearly. Alpha team leader had a direct line of sight into the rear of the house now, and a few small fires had started in what used to be the bedroom.
The mattress now lay up against the far wall and had small fires starting on the underside. The remains of a dresser lay disintegrated throughout the room, and the rest of the furniture remained unrecognizable.
“Alpha team, no sign of tango. Report.”
“Bravo, negative.”
“Charlie, negative.”
“Delta One, I have movement behind one of the vehicles out front.”
“Delta One, engage the target. Get him!”
“Roger that. Wait one.”
Elias took one last look through the scope and picked up his Barrett M95. Two quick adjustments to the scope, he brought it up to his shoulder while also slowing his breathing down.
He focused on the man trying to open the car door out in front of the farmhouse. He remained crouched low and just the top of his head could be seen through the window on the opposite side.
The man did not seem to have any luck as the car door remained locked.
Elias could see him make up his mind, and then the target started running full tilt up the driveway. Head down and arms pumping, he seemed to be covering distance quite rapidly, directly up the long driveway.
Aiming slightly higher than the target, Elias knew the man was about 700 yards away and closing. Taking a deep breath in, he could see the reticle crosshairs move slightly and, on the exhale, they centered on the target. Elias paused halfway through the next breath lining up the shot.
As always, the actual firing of the weapon slightly surprised him. You do not pull the trigger, but you gently squeeze it until it goes off.
The right side of the man’s head exploded into a red mist before he collapsed on the long gravel driveway, left leg still twitching as if running.
Before the echo of the long shot faded, Elias began to pack up his equipment.
“Target down. Delta One out.”
One minute later wearing jeans and t-shirt, Elias shouldered a heavy backpack and quietly walked away up the street, while pulling a ball cap down low.
Chapter 49
Sergeant Duncan sat at the computer desk and felt like shooting someone, preferably starting with the computer. With the section down a member, someone decided it would be a good idea to start computer-based learning modules, which would ‘enhance their understanding and comprehension of digitally run systems’. Lieutenant Powell most likely had a hand in this, Beef thought. He could be next.
As acting section sergeant, Duncan kept the team’s skills sharp by ensuring they were busy at the range. One thousand rounds per person per weapon. Most already had a great set of skills, but Corporal Kendall and Richards took it as a challenge to outperform one another. Their groupings went from the size of a quarter to that of a nickel on the small arms range. While neither came out as the winner, they both drew a little crowd of onlookers when they were firing.
Besides the occasional patrol or gate duty, things had been uneventful.
Leaning back in his chair, Duncan could see that the other members of the section were either asleep or barely paying attention at their computer stations. Corporal Samantha Noland seemed to have found a way past the training module and seemed to be composing an email to someone back home. Slightly envious of her training, Beef put his head in his hands and pretended to be enthralled with the lessons.
