Final Kill
Final Kill
https://amzn.to/2E6mCut
Leslie McKelvey
Chapter One
She remembered the face of the first man she’d ever killed: the rest of them... not so much.
Regulating her breathing, Cat peered through the scope of the .416 rifle as snow fell fitfully, almost as if it didn’t want to reach the ground. The snap of AK fire interspersed with the shouts of the Taliban firing the Russian-made weapons bounced around the ravine below her. She scowled.
Half an hour ago, she’d been sitting in a hidden mountain cave, relatively warm, monitoring two-way radio and cell chatter with a pair of specially designed headphones, using very expensive, top-secret, brand new, state-of-the-art technology. Now, because of what she’d heard she was lying on a ledge in the snow with her rifle, more than a kilometer from her relatively warm cave.
“Do you have them?” she whispered as the crosshairs found one turban-clad head.
“The SEALs are less than half a klick in front of them and losing ground.” Tripp grunted. “What the hell are they doing out here?”
“Dying,” she replied in a solemn voice. “But we’re not going to let that happen, are we?”
Cat listened carefully as Tripp rattled off the firing solution, and she adjusted her scope as he did so. In all, she’d counted seven pursuers, but the only one she was concerned with at that moment was the one in her sights. Cat exhaled completely, held her breath, and squeezed the trigger.
The rifle recoiled, and before the first bullet reached its target she had retracted the bolt, dropped a round in the chamber, and closed the bolt. Less than four seconds and she was honing in on terrorist number two.
“Hit,” Tripp reported.
She squeezed the trigger again, cycled the bolt, found her next target, and fired a third round as Tripp confirmed a hit on the second shot. She cycled the bolt again and paused.
“And number three is down.” Tripp chuckled. “Keep ‘em coming, Tiger.”
It was then the rest of the group realized three of their compatriots were dead. Cat watched the four remaining men scramble for cover as they tried to discern her location. The clap of the .416 echoed off the hills, bouncing back and forth between the walls of the ravine, making it impossible for them to figure out where the deadly shots were coming from. Her fourth shot hit the target in the upper chest, dead center at the base of the neck. His head went spinning through the air like a macabre Frisbee, the blood-spattered turban flapping wildly. After that the extremists went to ground in the thick, mountain brush.
“Nice!” Tripp said. “He really lost his head with that one.”
“Very funny.” Cat scrutinized the distant hillside and smiled grimly when she spotted a turban. She adjusted her aim again, but the turban disappeared. “Does Tonto have them?”
She could hear Tripp breathing as he scanned the gorge below. “Affirmative. He’s leading them up the back way. We’re good.”
“Not yet,” she said. “If any of these guys get back to whatever hole they crawled out of they’ll be right back here, messing my shit up.”
“They’ll be back anyway,” Tripp replied. “Not them, I mean, but more like them.”
“I know,” she agreed, “but eliminating these last three will give me a little more time to pack. I have a lot of expensive equipment to evac.”
“Always thinking ahead.” There was a brief pause. “Maybe you should leave just one so there’s someone to tell the tale.”
“Nah,” she replied with a smirk. “Let ‘em wonder.”
Several minutes passed with no movement, but Cat knew terrorist wasn’t a synonym for dumb. Snow continued to fall and a deathly quiet descended over the ravine. It seemed even the wind had died; not a twig, branch, or bush moved. A shiver traversed her spine, but Cat shook it off and stared through the scope.
“Anything?” she asked in a whisper.
“No... wait, hold on.” He moved his spotting scope a fraction. “Got one.”
He did some quick calculations and then read her the numbers. Cat smiled when she focused in on her fifth extremist. He was half-hidden behind a pine tree, and the only part of him she could get a clean shot at was his right leg. She squeezed the trigger and less than a second later the man’s hip exploded, his leg launching like a missile as the force of the impact spun him around. He landed face-first on the bloody snow and never moved again.
This was enough to send the last two into a panic. They started scurrying back the way they’d come, obviously overwhelmed by their fear. Survival instinct had kicked in, effectively silencing any common sense. Instead of staying hidden, they had decided their only option was to run. She felt a spurt of pity for them then took aim.
Despite the zigzag pattern they ran, she picked them off with relative ease.
“Hit.”
“Not even Superman can outrun a bullet,” Cat said in a low voice. She reloaded and peered through the scope. “Superman can only stop a bullet. Turns out a terrorist can, too... once.” Another squeeze on the trigger.
“And last one is down,” Tripp said shortly after her final shot. “Can we go now?”
“Yep,” she said. She capped her scope, folded the bipod, and quickly gathered her empty casings. After scooting back from the edge, she stood and swung her rifle over her shoulder. “Let’s get back to the cave. We need to finish packing.”
“You realize it won’t matter you saved a SEAL team,” Tripp commented. “The boss is gonna be pissed at you for doing this again.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “This was a team effort, and if it really upsets him that much he should send us stateside.” She glanced at Tripp. “He should know by now we’re not going to sit around and listen to our boys in uniform get killed, especially if we can stop it. After the last two incidents, you’d think he’d have figured that out.”
Tripp grinned. “You’d think.”
“Besides,” she continued, “it’s almost time for us to be out of here anyway. We just advanced the timetable.”
“You really do enjoy getting his jock strap in a twist, don’t you?”
Cat chuckled. “It’s almost as much fun as sniping bad guys and babysitting all of you, Tripp. Almost.”
***
Lieutenant Ryan Heller, US Navy SEAL, followed the stranger dressed in snow-cammies deeper into the tunnel. Digger leaned heavily into Ryan’s side. His other teammates followed behind loaded down with their weapons. Ryan had no idea who the stranger was or how he had materialized out of the snow, but he didn’t really care. All he cared about was getting Digger to a medic.
Gradually he detected noise and light, and his eyes widened when they entered a large cavern packed with computer monitors and illuminated by electric lights. Apparently, the stranger was accustomed to finding electricity and advanced technology in mountain caves because he kept walking. Ryan counted five other people all dressed the same as their quiet counterpart, but they were busy taking apart the computers and packing up the various components. He glanced over his shoulder at Mack, who shrugged in reply and continued on.
On the far side of the cavern was another tunnel. Ryan and his team followed the stranger silently. After about 20 meters the tunnel opened up again with several smaller caverns formed off the main passage. The guy led them to one outfitted with a gurney, an overhead light, and a small cabinet for medical supplies. As Ryan and Mack lay Digger on the bed their rescuer finally spoke.
“Wait here,” he said. “Doc will be with you in a moment.” His message delivered, the stranger turned on his heel and disappeared down the passageway.
Ryan looked at Grady who had dropped the weapons and was examining the supply cabinet. Then Ryan focused on Digger who was barely conscious.
“Great,” he said, “not even a Better Homes & Gardens to flip through.” He shook his head and started to unbutton Digger’s jacket. “What are doctor’s offices coming to these days?”
“Who cares?” Mack said, leaning against the rough stone wall. “I want to know who was manning that rifle. That first shot had to be... what? Fifteen hundred meters?”
“At least,” Ryan replied as he pulled a knife from his belt and sliced through the material of Digger’s clothes. “Whoever the guy was, I plan to buy him a case of beer when we get back to Bagram. There’s a Brit who owes me one for kicking his ass in poker.”
“A case?” Grady repeated. “I was thinking my firstborn would be a good start on payment.” He grabbed a nearby metal chair, spun it around and straddled it. “Don’t like kids much, so it’ll be a win-win.”
“Are they military?” Mack asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ryan replied. “There are no rank or MOS insignias, no unit patches, and no identifying marks on their uniforms aside from last names, and who knows if those are even real.” He scratched his beard. “No, these guys aren’t military.”
“Then what?” Grady asked. “Private security, NSA, CIA?”
“Pick one,” Ryan said. “We have an entire bowl of alphabet soup to choose from.” He heard footsteps coming from the direction of the tunnel. “It’s not important now. Zip it.”
“Sorry to keep you gents waiting.” A man dressed in snow-cammies entered the medical bay and walked up to the gurney. He was young, mid to late twenties Ryan guessed, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a tall, lanky build. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves then bent over Digger. “I’m Corpsman Tom Massey, but everyone calls me Doc. What have we here?”
“Took one round to the chest,” Ryan replied, watching closely as Doc examined the wound. At least the guy seemed to know what he was doing. After a thorough inspection, the corpsman donned a stethoscope and listened carefully to Digger’s chest. He then checked Digger’s visual acuity and blood pressure. Ryan leaned closer. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”
Massey straightened, his expression neither grim nor hopeful. “Well,” he began, “there are decreased breath sounds on the left. The bleeding has stopped, but without an x-ray there’s no way to tell what’s going on inside, and trying to get the bullet out could do more harm than good.” He met Ryan’s gaze briefly then turned his attention back to Digger. “I can keep him stable for a while, and, provided we get him to a surgical unit in the next couple of hours, I think he’ll be okay, but I’m only a corpsman. I’m not equipped for this.”
Ryan nodded. “Good enough for me.” He turned to Grady and Mack. “You guys stay here. I’m going to see if I can find out who’s in charge and get a timetable.”
Ryan strode back down the tunnel and entered the main cavern as two more people walked in from the opposite side. These, too, wore Arctic camouflage, both of their heads wrapped in turbans, their faces covered by scarves. The one in front was about 5’10” with a lean build and Ryan’s brows rose when he saw the .416 rifle over his shoulder. The name stitched on the front of the jacket read Beckett. The guy in back was an inch or so taller than Ryan, roughly 6’4” and powerfully built, but it was obvious the shorter man was in charge. Beckett walked around a table in the center of the room that was draped with a map, presenting Ryan with his back. He pulled the scarf from his face and leaned his hands on the edge of the table.
“Sitrep,” Beckett said.
At least he sounded military. That gave Ryan a small measure of comfort.
An Asian guy with a fancy looking laptop and a headset spun in his chair and rolled over to the table. “There’s definitely been an uptake in chatter,” he said, “and I’ve triangulated their position to... here.” He marked a spot on the map. Ryan edged closer as the man continued. “They probably realize the ambush didn’t go down as planned, and once they decide to send out a recon team it’ll take them less than half an hour to reach the kill zone.”
“Perfect,” Beckett said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He peered at the map. “Once they get there it won’t take them long to locate us, especially if they find the spot Tonto picked up the SEALs. Our Injun didn’t try to cover their tracks so it won’t be hard to follow them.”
“Hey, you said move fast so we moved fast,” said the man who had led them to the caves. “That would preclude hiding our trail, boss.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Beckett said. “It’s still snowing, so that will help.” He straightened, put his hands on his hips and exhaled slowly. “Well, don’t stand there looking at me. Finish packing.” He pointed to a tall, beefy man with the distinctive features and large build of a Pacific Islander. “Techno, forget about loading it all. Get the important stuff: hard drives, scanners, mikes, dishes. You know what is and isn’t necessary. If it’s not important, top-secret, or insanely expensive, leave it.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Burgess.”
A man sitting at a computer monitor turned around to face Beckett. “Yeah, boss.”
“Coordinate with Techno. Make sure we’ve got all the important stuff out, then start wiping hard drives and prepping the rest of the equipment for evac.”
Burgess nodded. “You got it, boss.”
Beckett checked his watch. “Bam-Bam.”
Another man, with sandy brown hair and eyes had a flat, monochromatic appearance, until he looked at Beckett. When the two locked gazes, a predatory gleam entered Bam-Bam’s eyes that made his whole face come to life. Ryan blinked.
“Whatcha need, boss?” Bam-Bam asked. He fidgeted, obviously anxious to be about his master’s bidding.
“It’s not Christmas,” Beckett began, “so the only gift I want those assholes to get when they find these caves is a really, really warm welcome, if you get my drift.” As Bam-Bam scurried off, Beckett leaned on the edge of the table again. “Lee, double check that the cas-evac they were prepping for the SEALs is still on the way. Bagram can consider it requisitioned. Contact base and let them know how much gear we’ve got, how many personnel, and that we have wounded. Be certain they have the right coordinates for the LZ this time so we don’t have to play radio tag in the mountains again.”
The Asian man with the fancy laptop laughed softly and started tapping on the keyboard. “On it.”
Ryan watched as people scurried around. While it was frenetic, there was nothing unorganized or panicked about the evacuation. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do, and they were doing it without having to be told or directly supervised. Impressive.
Beckett and the tall man he’d come in with were conversing quietly, looking at the map. The .416 still hung over Beckett’s shoulder. Ryan watched them for a moment then approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt. As he did, Beckett reached for his turban and pulled it off and Ryan froze. A long, thick, red braid fell down Beckett’s back. His jaw dropped and he stared, but in his periphery he saw Beckett’s companion had noticed him and was tapping Beckett on the shoulder. Ryan managed to close his mouth as Beckett turned to face him.
Ryan found himself looking into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. They were large, lined with thick lashes, and had a distinctly feline appearance with tipped up outer corners and a vivid, unwavering gaze. His pulse jumped. He saw the surprise there, as if she’d just remembered why she needed a rifle. She smiled and something in his chest melted.
“Lieutenant,” she said. “How is your man?”
It took him a second to find his voice. “Your corpsman thinks he’ll make it to Bagram, ma’am,” he finally replied.
“Then he’ll make it,” Beckett said. “Doc is the best I’ve ever worked with.” She waited a moment. “Is there something you need, food or water maybe? We’re a little busy but I can get you something to eat or drink if you need it.”
“Um, no, ma’am, we’re good,” he ground out. “I wanted to say thanks for saving our asses back there. That was some pretty impressive marksmanship.”
“Yeah,” agreed the taller man whose jacket read Trippler. He had dark hair cut in a high-and-tight and pale blue eyes. “She does okay... for a girl.” He chuckled and looked at Beckett. “Need to get my stuff, darling,” he said, affecting an awful British accent. “You can tend to our guests without me, can you not?”
Beckett looked at him out of the corner of her eye and fought a smile. “Get out.” She turned back to Ryan. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Tripp likes to infuse humor into tense situations. It’s a coping mechanism, and a character flaw.”
“He your spotter, ma’am?” Ryan asked.
She had a generous mouth with full curves, and that mouth widened into a you-have-a-gift-for-stating-the-obvious smile. He noted the gentle features, the slender nose, and the elegant brows. She was stunning which, oddly enough, irritated him. SEALs weren’t supposed to be stunned by anything, or anyone.
“Indeed he is,” she replied. “And stop calling me ma’am. Now, I’d love to chat but we have to get out of here.”
“Can I help?” he asked, a bit too quickly.
Her smile deepened, revealing a set of dimples that transformed her from cover-girl beauty to girl-next-door approachable, an unnerving and fascinating combination. His heart did an uncharacteristic flip but Ryan schooled his features into what he hoped was an impassive mask and waited for a reply. Thankfully, she had pity on him.
“See to your men, LT,” she said. “When we bug out you’re going to have to help your wounded to the helo, but thankfully the terrain isn’t as rough on the other side of the hill from where you met your new and, sadly, deceased friends. Should be a relatively easy trek.” She turned and started to walk away.
“What’s your name?” he asked, again, a little too quickly.
She lifted one brow and glanced down at her name stitched so neatly on the Arctic camouflage.
Ryan frowned. “I can read,” he said. “What’s your name?”
She studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp and probing but still friendly. “Catharine,” she finally replied, “but you can call me Cat.”
“I’m Lieutenant Ryan Heller,” Ryan said, “and you can call me whatever you want, but the guys call me Reaper.”
“We call her Tiger,” Lee said without once looking up from his computer, “but you’re not qualified for that yet, Lieutenant.”
“Nope,” said Techno as he walked by with an armload of what looked like computer hard drives. “She has to like you first.”
“Maybe she does like him,” Bam-Bam commented as he affixed a round, black disc to the wall with a metal spike. There was a circle of red dots blinking on the front of the disc, and Ryan realized it was some type of explosive, a type, oddly enough, he’d never seen before. Bam-Bam continued speaking, his expression fierce as he concentrated on setting another charge. “After all, she was actually polite to this one. The others she hardly even glanced at, and when they questioned her she showed them why we call her Tiger.”
With that everyone went still and silent and turned to stare at him. It would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so serious.
“Get back to work,” Cat snapped. Immediately the noise resumed and she looked at him. “My apologies, Lieutenant. We rarely get guests so the children are quite unsure how to behave.”
Ryan smiled for what felt like the first time in days. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re on our side.” He paused, leaned toward her, and lowered his voice. “You are on our side, right?”
Cat laughed softly and put a hand on his shoulder. “Cut us and we bleed red, white, and blue, LT.” She turned him toward the tunnel. “Now, wait with your men, please. When it’s time to go, I’ll come get you.”
“And how long will that be, ma’am?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
Cat frowned, but when she saw his smile she chuckled and shook her head. The change in expression was dramatic and Ryan had no trouble understanding why they called her Tiger. When she scowled he had almost expected fangs. Her appearance was fierce, primal, and her stare was just as arresting as that of an angry Bengal.
Ryan knew snipers were a solitary lot who associated mostly with other snipers or their spotters. Their line of work required an entirely different skill set than what was needed to be part of a regimental combat unit, and camaraderie wasn’t top of that priority list. Snipers were lone hunters. He was friends with a few of the military marksmen, though not a close friend. Often, they were regarded with a mystical reverence bordering on fear. Her first four shots had taken less than a minute, and while he had no way to know if she’d hit all her targets the fact their pursuit had stopped told him she probably had. But, unlike some snipers he’d met, he didn’t get the hair-raising vibe from her. Nevertheless, he’d just met her. Perhaps a woman sharpshooter had a different disposition from the men he was familiar with. Until he knew her better, he thought it wise to allow himself to feel some of that reverent fear. After all, discretion was the better part of valor and if he pissed her off she could probably kill him from a mile away. Ryan shook himself as that creepy vibe finally registered.
“We’ll be out in less than an hour, Lieutenant,” she replied, breaking his train of thought. “Don’t worry about your comrade, either. Doc will make sure he’s ready to travel. He’s aware of the time constraints.”
Ryan snapped to attention and extended his hand. She looked at it for a moment then wrapped her fingers firmly around his. A faint tingle crept up his arm and he cleared his throat. “I feel like I should salute you or something,” he said, “but since you’re not a military officer, a handshake and my sincere thanks will have to do until we get back to Bagram.”
Cat tipped her head to the side. “And what happens when we get back to Bagram?”
Unexpected heat burst inside him as he pictured what he’d want to happen, but he managed not to say anything. Pushing those mental photos aside he thought about her question for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Whatever you want,” he said at last. “If it’s within my means it’s yours. You deserve it after what you did for us. We wouldn’t have made it out of that canyon if you weren’t such a crack shot. We owe you our lives.”
He thought he saw a hint of pink creep into her cheeks, but in the half-light of low wattage bulbs it was hard to say for sure. What he did know was she was still holding his hand, and that tingle grew stronger. It was strange, but he found he quite liked it.
“Why don’t you buy me a cup of coffee when we get back to base and we’ll call it even?”
His brows rose. “Really? That’s it? I would have thought dinner at the mess hall would be your first choice, but hey, if coffee’s your thing....” He frowned. “I did say whatever you want, right?” She chuckled and released his hand, much to his disappointment.
“Well,” she began, “if we make it to the helo perhaps I’ll give it some thought on the ride to base.” She met his gaze. “Can I get back to you?”
“Of course, and I have a feeling no matter where I am on base you can find me,” he replied. He gestured toward the rifle. “Just use that scope... finger off the trigger preferably.”
A smile curved her mouth. “Deal.”
“Great.” He turned and started to walk away then looked at her over his shoulder. “Now I’ll go wait with my men. Thanks again... Cate.” He gave her a wink then turned away.
Cat blinked and watched the tall sailor walk confidently down the tunnel, feeling warmth and a strange tingling at the base of her spine. She didn’t like it one bit. His demeanor, his manner, his genuineness was so unlike many Special Forces soldiers she’d met. That particular breed of men possessed a certain type of arrogance that often bordered on narcissism. She recognized it was necessary but she didn’t usually like it. The utter confidence in oneself and one’s abilities exhibited by most SEALs, Green Berets, and the like usually triggered a negative response in her, but not with this one. She remembered the shock of surprise that had registered when she’d met those crystalline blue eyes and the unwelcome jump in her heart rate. Cat crossed her arms over her chest and stared down the tunnel.
He was older than his men, probably mid-thirties, taller and bigger than most SEALs, about as tall and nearly as broad as Tripp. That was roughly four inches taller than her. She knew there was no set standard for the height and weight of SEALs, but shorter, wirier, lighter men usually performed better in the arenas SEAL teams worked in. This meant Lieutenant Heller possessed some impressive physical abilities that allowed him to overcome the disadvantage his size had presented during the qualification process. And while he wasn’t as muscle-bound as Tripp he was muscular in an athletic, beefy way, like Russell Crowe in all his Gladiator glory. His eyes were dark blue, his black hair longer than the typical military cut because of his current location, and even the full beard did nothing to lessen his appeal. Lieutenant Heller was a very attractive man, and it annoyed her that she found herself attracted. This wasn’t the time or the place, and yet she couldn’t remember the last time a man had affected her like he did.
“Admit it, you like him,” Lee said from behind her.
Cat turned a sharp gaze on the man and he immediately returned to what he was doing. With a huff, she set off down one of the side tunnels toward her quarters.
Since she traveled light she didn’t have much to pack, and in less than five minutes she was finished in the small alcove off the secondary tunnel that served as her “bedroom.” Cat hefted her backpack over the shoulder opposite the rifle and walked back toward the main cavern. Everyone was there except Techno, who was no doubt gathering all the top-secret listening equipment from outside. She glanced at her watch and saw 25 minutes had passed since initial contact, but nearly everything was done. Bam-Bam sat on a crate near the entrance tunnel, and she approached him.
“Ready to welcome our guests?” she asked.
Bam-Bam nodded. “All that’s left is to laser-trip the entrance. After everyone else is out I’ll laser-trip the exit tunnel in case anyone makes it through the first car of the welcome wagon.” He pulled a monitor the size of a small cell phone out of his pocket and grinned.
“What’s that?” Cat asked, almost afraid of the answer. Although Bam-Bam was the best at what he did, sometimes his enthusiasm for explosives bordered on the disturbing.
He stroked the smooth, black surface as if it was a lover’s hand. “If I don’t hear the charges, this little baby will tell me when both sets of explosives have been tripped.” He gave her a look that was slightly maniacal. “When that happens....” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out what looked like a dead-man switch. “When that happens, I push this... and the whole top of the mountain explodes. Thanks to me this hill will be a couple hundred feet shorter by close of business today.”
Cat smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You really like keeping the geologists busy, don’t you?”
He grinned, an expression that would send children scurrying to hide behind their mothers. “It provides job security for them and hours of amusement for me. It’s a symbiotic relationship ensuring a positive outcome for all, like those little fish who eat parasites off sharks.”
Cat stepped back and shook her head. “You worry me, Bam-Bam. You really do.”
Techno strode by with an ammo box in each hand. “You’re up, blast-man.”
“Don’t set the laser until I’ve had a chance to go look out front,” Cat reminded him.
Bam-Bam nodded and his face lit up like a child on Christmas. He rubbed his hands together and disappeared down the tunnel. Cat grabbed Techno’s arm.
“How many boxes do we have?” she asked.
He wiggled dark brows at her. “Well, I worked my magic so one each, boss. Lee will carry two since he doesn’t carry a weapon, and two can be loaded on the stretcher with our injured SEAL. That will free you, Tripp, and the Bam-master up. I already cleared it with Doc.”
“Did you magnetize everything else?” she asked.
“Of course.” He smiled and patted her hand. “You can thank me later.”
“I may just kiss you later,” Cat replied. “Thanks, Tech.”
“Anything for you, Tiger.”
Cat watched him disappear down the exit tunnel then took a deep breath and stood on a crate to address the room. “All right,” she began, “is there anyone who’s not ready to leave?” She scanned the cavern, but the men stood there, silent and resolute. Cat smiled. “Good.” She glanced at Lee. “What’s the ETA on the helo?”
Lee looked at his computer then at her. “Five-zero minutes,” he replied.
Cat glanced at her watch. “It’s less than a klick to the LZ, which means we should get there right before the chopper does.” She paused when Lieutenant Heller, his uninjured men, and Doc entered the room. Her eyes met those of the SEAL and again her pulse did a split-second leap. He and his men looked ready to go, their weapons slung over their shoulders. She took another breath and continued. “Techno has the boxes by the back door so grab what you can carry on your way, minimum of one each.”
Lieutenant Heller stepped forward. “My men and I can help.”
“Doc?” she asked, looking at the corpsman.
“I need one guy to help me with the stretcher,” Doc replied. “Other than that, we’re good and ready to go.”
“Okay,” Cat said with a nod. “Lieutenant, pick someone to help Doc carry your guy, and whoever is left can help with cargo.”
“Roger that,” Heller replied with a small smile.
“All right, people,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “You all know the way to the landing zone so move like you have a purpose. Aside from our Navy guests, the most important cargo are those boxes, so I expect all of them to reach the LZ in the same condition you found them. Techno will take point and Tripp, Bam-Bam, and I will bring up the rear. No matter what you hear, gunfire, explosions, Toby Keith singing, do not stop. Get your asses and that equipment to the helo and back to base. Understood?”
“Understood,” was the unified reply.
Cat put her hands on her hips and dropped her chin. “Move out.”
Chapter Two
Ryan stood to the side as people filed past him, moving quickly down the exit tunnel. He looked at Grady. “Go with the Doc,” he said. “Mack and I will hang back and help out.”
Grady nodded. “Yes, sir. See you at the LZ.”
“Be safe.”
“Always,” Grady replied with a grin. “You, too.”
Grady and the Doc disappeared down the passage and Ryan turned back toward the main cavern. Cat and Bam-Bam stood at the map table, checking weapons and stacking empty M16 magazines as Tripp grabbed a box of ammunition, obviously the large-caliber bullets for Cat’s rifle. He grunted to get her attention and tossed the bullets to her. She put aside one cartridge and then emptied the box into an ammo bag attached to her belt. The tinkling of brass was almost musical. She closed the Velcro seal on the ammo bag and turned her attention to her rifle. Ryan watched her, admiring the efficient grace with which she handled the weapon. Her movements were easy, practiced, almost sensual, and his thoughts started to drift. After inspecting the rifle, she dropped the single 4 1/2 inch shell into the open chamber and slammed the bolt home with the ease and confidence of someone who worked with the four-foot, 23 pound weapon on a frequent basis. She propped the rifle against the table and reached for a box of normal ammunition.
“She’s obviously done this before,” Mack said under his breath.
Ryan shook himself and glanced at his teammate. “Y’think?” When she began loading the M16 magazines he walked toward her. “If you have some more 5.56, Mack and I can help. I may not be able to take out a target at 1500 meters, but I’m not a bad shot.”
“Yeah,” Mack affirmed. “I’m pretty good in a firefight, too.”
Tripp reached under the table and came up with four boxes of 5.56 cartridges in his huge, meaty hands. “Here you go, gentlemen. The more the merrier.”
“Thanks,” Ryan said, taking the boxes and handing two to Mack. They joined the others at the table and started filling empty magazines. Ryan glanced under the table and then looked at Cat. “You’ve got a lot of ammunition here. Expecting an army?”
A grim smile curved her mouth as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She picked up an empty M16 magazine. “Better to have it and not need it than the other way around, don’t you agree?”
Ryan chuckled ruefully. “Yes, ma’am, I would definitely have to agree with that.”
Silence prevailed for a few minutes, broken only by the click of bullets being inserted into magazines. When Cat had loaded a dozen or so she stacked them in front of her and leaned her elbows on the table.
“Lieutenant,” she began, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Well, Cate,” Ryan said, “since you saved my life I think you can ask me just about anything.”
She turned toward him. “What the hell were you and your team doing out here?”
“To be honest, I’m kind of wondering that myself now.” Ryan frowned and continued to load his magazines. “It was supposed to be a light mission. A truckload of weapons and ammo was hijacked from a convoy about a week ago. RPGs, rocket launchers, M16s.” His scowl deepened. “We received intel that part of the hijacked weapons had been stashed in a village not far from where the convoy was hit, about 40 klicks north of here.” He looked at Cat. “We got sent out, and the objective was simple. Recon the village to determine whether or not the weapons were there, and if they were, destroy them. Easy, right?”
“What happened?” Cat asked.
“We weren’t even halfway there when we got ambushed,” Mack said with an angry huff. He stuffed his now full magazines in his TAC vest and looked at Ryan. “It’s almost like they knew we were coming.”
Ryan flashed Mack a warning look. “Mack, zip it.”
Cat’s eyes narrowed and she straightened. “You think it was a set up?”
Ryan met her gaze and said nothing.
“Wow.” She blinked and exhaled slowly then looked at Tripp. “And they ran straight this way.” Tripp nodded, but remained mute.
“We didn’t have much choice,” Ryan said. “This was the only direction bullets weren’t coming from.” He paused and frowned. “Wait, do you think something bigger is going on here?”
Cat planted her hands on her hips, a scowl on her brow. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I’ve never liked coincidences, but in this country, it’s almost impossible to tell if something was planned or the bad guys got lucky. I’ve seen both happen.”
“Me, too,” Ryan said. “So, what do we do now?”
Cat chewed her lip for a moment then loaded an M16 and handed it to him. “We need to finish this conversation,” she said at last, “but not now.” She turned to Bam-Bam. “You ready?” The demolitionist nodded and stood. Cat glanced over her shoulder at Tripp. “Tripp, you and the SEALs grab whatever boxes are left outside and hightail it for the helo. Bam and I will be right on your heels.” Tripp walked over to her and held out a hand. Cat slung her rifle over her shoulder and handed over her backpack. The huge man shrugged into it and turned toward the exit tunnel. Bam-Bam and Cat started walking the opposite direction.
Ryan frowned, slung the M16 across his back and shouldered his M4. “Wait,” he said, “where are you guys going?”
Cat stopped, turned, and gave him a tolerant look. “I’m going out front to see if anyone’s coming this way. If they are, I’m going to try and convince them to rethink that plan of action.”
“And once she’s done convincing I’m going to activate the lasers,” Bam-Bam added.
“We’ll be right behind you, LT,” she said.
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. “Mack, go with Trippler. I’m staying here.”
Cat lifted one arched brow. “Lieutenant....”
“Go on, Mack,” Ryan said. “I’ll be on your six.”
Mack grabbed his rifle and nodded. “You got it, Reaper.”
Cat waited until Tripp and Mack had left the cavern then she sighed. “Have it your way, LT. Grab as much ammo as you can carry and Bam and I will be back in five.” A jaunty smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Then again, depending on how close they are it may be sooner, so, be ready to go.”
“I’ll be ready,” Ryan replied. “Just make sure you come back.”
“Oh, I’ll be back,” she said, a mischievous sparkle in those vivid green eyes. “I fully intend to collect on that cup of coffee.”
The heat in his chest expanded even as his throat tightened in anxious anticipation, and it took everything inside of him not to follow her. He was accustomed to running toward danger not waiting around for it to come to him, especially when there was a woman in the middle of it all. Yeah, I’m a caveman. Ryan scowled and started grabbing boxes of ammunition from under the table. When he could carry no more he stood and looked around the deserted cavern. There was still a lot of equipment in the room, but nothing they seemed overly concerned with leaving behind. He walked over to a blank computer monitor and turned it off as several pops came from the direction of the tunnel. Ryan’s head snapped up and he started toward the passage. Before he could take another step, Cat ran into the cavern.
“Time to go, Lieutenant.”
Ryan stared at her for a second. She was smiling and her cheeks were pink. In fact, she actually seemed to be enjoying this.
“Where’s Bam-Bam?” he asked.
“On my six,” she replied.
“I take it we’re going to have company?”
“They’re not here yet, but they’re coming.”
At that moment, Bam-Bam materialized out of the tunnel. “Let’s move,” he said. “After you, Lieutenant. Once you and Cat are out I have to arm the lasers on this side.”
Cat sprinted across the cavern and Ryan followed on her heels. They ran down the tunnel, past the alcoves where the medical bay had been and others Ryan hadn’t seen before now. He ignored it all and concentrated on following her. She moved like a feline, lithe and quick. The tunnel wound through the mountain for another hundred meters or so before he saw light. About a minute later they emerged into the frigid mountain air.
They were on a semi-circular landing with a narrow trail leading down from the western edge to his right. Ryan immediately knelt and raised his weapon, peering through the scope at the surrounding countryside. Although their enemies had been on the other side of the peak, that didn’t mean there weren’t bad guys on this side. However, the air was cold and still, the silence oddly reassuring. If there were Taliban on this side of the mountain no doubt a firefight would be raging between them and the people who had already evacuated.
“How far back are they?” Ryan asked. He glanced at Cat and saw she had assumed a similar stance, her eyes peering into the brush.
“I got two at about 500 meters,” she replied, her cheek resting on the stock of the rifle. “I saw a total of six, but I’m sure more are coming. They’ll pause for a few, gather their wits and their dead, and then continue to follow us.”
Ryan chuckled grimly. “That would be their worst decision today.”
She smiled and continued to survey the countryside. “No, their worst decision was going after you guys in the first place.”
“And so, the Tiger came out,” Ryan said. “Good for us, bad for them.”
Bam-Bam exited the tunnel and gave Cat a thumbs-up then followed the trail down the western slope. Cat took another look through her scope, rose, and inclined her head.
“After you, Lieutenant,” she said.
Ryan stood and shook his head. “Nope. We go together.”
She pursed her lips. “The trail is only big enough to go single file.”
“Then humor me,” he said, planting the butt of his rifle on his hip, “and give me something to follow. Call me a caveman if you want, but chasing something pretty provides me with incentive to move faster.” In the light of day, the faint flush that stained her cheeks was much easier to see, despite the overcast skies and light snowfall. She scowled and Ryan grinned. “After you, Cate. I always bring up the rear. Call it a coping mechanism, or a character flaw.”
There was a mutinous set to her chin and an angry glint in her eyes that made his smile widen, and her scowl turned darker.
“Fine,” she said at last, jogging past him, “but only because we don’t have time to argue right now.”
He gave her a small head start, then followed and matched her pace. “Whenever you want to argue, ma’am,” he said with a low chuckle, “I will be happy to oblige you.”
The terrain was easier on this side of the peak, but it was still a mountain in Afghanistan, so easier was a relative term. Between the topography and the altitude, Ryan knew even the most physically fit individuals would have difficulty. But he was a Navy SEAL. He lived for this type of stuff. It seemed Cat, too, was accustomed to the difficult landscape. She was quick and sure on her feet as the trail continued on a downward angle. Occasionally she glanced at him over her shoulder, and he gave her a cheerful salute in response. He had a feeling it annoyed her and that made him grin.
They’d been moving for about twenty minutes when the mountain shook and the sound of an explosion reached them. The three skidded to a halt and looked back. The peak itself was obscured by trees and brush, but the cloud of smoke rising into the sky was much easier to see.
“Looks like they found the entrance,” Ryan commented.
“Which means we need to pick up the pace,” Cat said. “It’ll slow them down, but I don’t want to give them a chance to shoot that helicopter out of the sky once we get airborne.”
“Hear, hear,” Bam-Bam said. “Picking up the pace, boss.”
https://amzn.to/2E6mCut
Leslie McKelvey
Chapter One
She remembered the face of the first man she’d ever killed: the rest of them... not so much.
Regulating her breathing, Cat peered through the scope of the .416 rifle as snow fell fitfully, almost as if it didn’t want to reach the ground. The snap of AK fire interspersed with the shouts of the Taliban firing the Russian-made weapons bounced around the ravine below her. She scowled.
Half an hour ago, she’d been sitting in a hidden mountain cave, relatively warm, monitoring two-way radio and cell chatter with a pair of specially designed headphones, using very expensive, top-secret, brand new, state-of-the-art technology. Now, because of what she’d heard she was lying on a ledge in the snow with her rifle, more than a kilometer from her relatively warm cave.
“Do you have them?” she whispered as the crosshairs found one turban-clad head.
“The SEALs are less than half a klick in front of them and losing ground.” Tripp grunted. “What the hell are they doing out here?”
“Dying,” she replied in a solemn voice. “But we’re not going to let that happen, are we?”
Cat listened carefully as Tripp rattled off the firing solution, and she adjusted her scope as he did so. In all, she’d counted seven pursuers, but the only one she was concerned with at that moment was the one in her sights. Cat exhaled completely, held her breath, and squeezed the trigger.
The rifle recoiled, and before the first bullet reached its target she had retracted the bolt, dropped a round in the chamber, and closed the bolt. Less than four seconds and she was honing in on terrorist number two.
“Hit,” Tripp reported.
She squeezed the trigger again, cycled the bolt, found her next target, and fired a third round as Tripp confirmed a hit on the second shot. She cycled the bolt again and paused.
“And number three is down.” Tripp chuckled. “Keep ‘em coming, Tiger.”
It was then the rest of the group realized three of their compatriots were dead. Cat watched the four remaining men scramble for cover as they tried to discern her location. The clap of the .416 echoed off the hills, bouncing back and forth between the walls of the ravine, making it impossible for them to figure out where the deadly shots were coming from. Her fourth shot hit the target in the upper chest, dead center at the base of the neck. His head went spinning through the air like a macabre Frisbee, the blood-spattered turban flapping wildly. After that the extremists went to ground in the thick, mountain brush.
“Nice!” Tripp said. “He really lost his head with that one.”
“Very funny.” Cat scrutinized the distant hillside and smiled grimly when she spotted a turban. She adjusted her aim again, but the turban disappeared. “Does Tonto have them?”
She could hear Tripp breathing as he scanned the gorge below. “Affirmative. He’s leading them up the back way. We’re good.”
“Not yet,” she said. “If any of these guys get back to whatever hole they crawled out of they’ll be right back here, messing my shit up.”
“They’ll be back anyway,” Tripp replied. “Not them, I mean, but more like them.”
“I know,” she agreed, “but eliminating these last three will give me a little more time to pack. I have a lot of expensive equipment to evac.”
“Always thinking ahead.” There was a brief pause. “Maybe you should leave just one so there’s someone to tell the tale.”
“Nah,” she replied with a smirk. “Let ‘em wonder.”
Several minutes passed with no movement, but Cat knew terrorist wasn’t a synonym for dumb. Snow continued to fall and a deathly quiet descended over the ravine. It seemed even the wind had died; not a twig, branch, or bush moved. A shiver traversed her spine, but Cat shook it off and stared through the scope.
“Anything?” she asked in a whisper.
“No... wait, hold on.” He moved his spotting scope a fraction. “Got one.”
He did some quick calculations and then read her the numbers. Cat smiled when she focused in on her fifth extremist. He was half-hidden behind a pine tree, and the only part of him she could get a clean shot at was his right leg. She squeezed the trigger and less than a second later the man’s hip exploded, his leg launching like a missile as the force of the impact spun him around. He landed face-first on the bloody snow and never moved again.
This was enough to send the last two into a panic. They started scurrying back the way they’d come, obviously overwhelmed by their fear. Survival instinct had kicked in, effectively silencing any common sense. Instead of staying hidden, they had decided their only option was to run. She felt a spurt of pity for them then took aim.
Despite the zigzag pattern they ran, she picked them off with relative ease.
“Hit.”
“Not even Superman can outrun a bullet,” Cat said in a low voice. She reloaded and peered through the scope. “Superman can only stop a bullet. Turns out a terrorist can, too... once.” Another squeeze on the trigger.
“And last one is down,” Tripp said shortly after her final shot. “Can we go now?”
“Yep,” she said. She capped her scope, folded the bipod, and quickly gathered her empty casings. After scooting back from the edge, she stood and swung her rifle over her shoulder. “Let’s get back to the cave. We need to finish packing.”
“You realize it won’t matter you saved a SEAL team,” Tripp commented. “The boss is gonna be pissed at you for doing this again.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “This was a team effort, and if it really upsets him that much he should send us stateside.” She glanced at Tripp. “He should know by now we’re not going to sit around and listen to our boys in uniform get killed, especially if we can stop it. After the last two incidents, you’d think he’d have figured that out.”
Tripp grinned. “You’d think.”
“Besides,” she continued, “it’s almost time for us to be out of here anyway. We just advanced the timetable.”
“You really do enjoy getting his jock strap in a twist, don’t you?”
Cat chuckled. “It’s almost as much fun as sniping bad guys and babysitting all of you, Tripp. Almost.”
***
Lieutenant Ryan Heller, US Navy SEAL, followed the stranger dressed in snow-cammies deeper into the tunnel. Digger leaned heavily into Ryan’s side. His other teammates followed behind loaded down with their weapons. Ryan had no idea who the stranger was or how he had materialized out of the snow, but he didn’t really care. All he cared about was getting Digger to a medic.
Gradually he detected noise and light, and his eyes widened when they entered a large cavern packed with computer monitors and illuminated by electric lights. Apparently, the stranger was accustomed to finding electricity and advanced technology in mountain caves because he kept walking. Ryan counted five other people all dressed the same as their quiet counterpart, but they were busy taking apart the computers and packing up the various components. He glanced over his shoulder at Mack, who shrugged in reply and continued on.
On the far side of the cavern was another tunnel. Ryan and his team followed the stranger silently. After about 20 meters the tunnel opened up again with several smaller caverns formed off the main passage. The guy led them to one outfitted with a gurney, an overhead light, and a small cabinet for medical supplies. As Ryan and Mack lay Digger on the bed their rescuer finally spoke.
“Wait here,” he said. “Doc will be with you in a moment.” His message delivered, the stranger turned on his heel and disappeared down the passageway.
Ryan looked at Grady who had dropped the weapons and was examining the supply cabinet. Then Ryan focused on Digger who was barely conscious.
“Great,” he said, “not even a Better Homes & Gardens to flip through.” He shook his head and started to unbutton Digger’s jacket. “What are doctor’s offices coming to these days?”
“Who cares?” Mack said, leaning against the rough stone wall. “I want to know who was manning that rifle. That first shot had to be... what? Fifteen hundred meters?”
“At least,” Ryan replied as he pulled a knife from his belt and sliced through the material of Digger’s clothes. “Whoever the guy was, I plan to buy him a case of beer when we get back to Bagram. There’s a Brit who owes me one for kicking his ass in poker.”
“A case?” Grady repeated. “I was thinking my firstborn would be a good start on payment.” He grabbed a nearby metal chair, spun it around and straddled it. “Don’t like kids much, so it’ll be a win-win.”
“Are they military?” Mack asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ryan replied. “There are no rank or MOS insignias, no unit patches, and no identifying marks on their uniforms aside from last names, and who knows if those are even real.” He scratched his beard. “No, these guys aren’t military.”
“Then what?” Grady asked. “Private security, NSA, CIA?”
“Pick one,” Ryan said. “We have an entire bowl of alphabet soup to choose from.” He heard footsteps coming from the direction of the tunnel. “It’s not important now. Zip it.”
“Sorry to keep you gents waiting.” A man dressed in snow-cammies entered the medical bay and walked up to the gurney. He was young, mid to late twenties Ryan guessed, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a tall, lanky build. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves then bent over Digger. “I’m Corpsman Tom Massey, but everyone calls me Doc. What have we here?”
“Took one round to the chest,” Ryan replied, watching closely as Doc examined the wound. At least the guy seemed to know what he was doing. After a thorough inspection, the corpsman donned a stethoscope and listened carefully to Digger’s chest. He then checked Digger’s visual acuity and blood pressure. Ryan leaned closer. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”
Massey straightened, his expression neither grim nor hopeful. “Well,” he began, “there are decreased breath sounds on the left. The bleeding has stopped, but without an x-ray there’s no way to tell what’s going on inside, and trying to get the bullet out could do more harm than good.” He met Ryan’s gaze briefly then turned his attention back to Digger. “I can keep him stable for a while, and, provided we get him to a surgical unit in the next couple of hours, I think he’ll be okay, but I’m only a corpsman. I’m not equipped for this.”
Ryan nodded. “Good enough for me.” He turned to Grady and Mack. “You guys stay here. I’m going to see if I can find out who’s in charge and get a timetable.”
Ryan strode back down the tunnel and entered the main cavern as two more people walked in from the opposite side. These, too, wore Arctic camouflage, both of their heads wrapped in turbans, their faces covered by scarves. The one in front was about 5’10” with a lean build and Ryan’s brows rose when he saw the .416 rifle over his shoulder. The name stitched on the front of the jacket read Beckett. The guy in back was an inch or so taller than Ryan, roughly 6’4” and powerfully built, but it was obvious the shorter man was in charge. Beckett walked around a table in the center of the room that was draped with a map, presenting Ryan with his back. He pulled the scarf from his face and leaned his hands on the edge of the table.
“Sitrep,” Beckett said.
At least he sounded military. That gave Ryan a small measure of comfort.
An Asian guy with a fancy looking laptop and a headset spun in his chair and rolled over to the table. “There’s definitely been an uptake in chatter,” he said, “and I’ve triangulated their position to... here.” He marked a spot on the map. Ryan edged closer as the man continued. “They probably realize the ambush didn’t go down as planned, and once they decide to send out a recon team it’ll take them less than half an hour to reach the kill zone.”
“Perfect,” Beckett said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He peered at the map. “Once they get there it won’t take them long to locate us, especially if they find the spot Tonto picked up the SEALs. Our Injun didn’t try to cover their tracks so it won’t be hard to follow them.”
“Hey, you said move fast so we moved fast,” said the man who had led them to the caves. “That would preclude hiding our trail, boss.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Beckett said. “It’s still snowing, so that will help.” He straightened, put his hands on his hips and exhaled slowly. “Well, don’t stand there looking at me. Finish packing.” He pointed to a tall, beefy man with the distinctive features and large build of a Pacific Islander. “Techno, forget about loading it all. Get the important stuff: hard drives, scanners, mikes, dishes. You know what is and isn’t necessary. If it’s not important, top-secret, or insanely expensive, leave it.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Burgess.”
A man sitting at a computer monitor turned around to face Beckett. “Yeah, boss.”
“Coordinate with Techno. Make sure we’ve got all the important stuff out, then start wiping hard drives and prepping the rest of the equipment for evac.”
Burgess nodded. “You got it, boss.”
Beckett checked his watch. “Bam-Bam.”
Another man, with sandy brown hair and eyes had a flat, monochromatic appearance, until he looked at Beckett. When the two locked gazes, a predatory gleam entered Bam-Bam’s eyes that made his whole face come to life. Ryan blinked.
“Whatcha need, boss?” Bam-Bam asked. He fidgeted, obviously anxious to be about his master’s bidding.
“It’s not Christmas,” Beckett began, “so the only gift I want those assholes to get when they find these caves is a really, really warm welcome, if you get my drift.” As Bam-Bam scurried off, Beckett leaned on the edge of the table again. “Lee, double check that the cas-evac they were prepping for the SEALs is still on the way. Bagram can consider it requisitioned. Contact base and let them know how much gear we’ve got, how many personnel, and that we have wounded. Be certain they have the right coordinates for the LZ this time so we don’t have to play radio tag in the mountains again.”
The Asian man with the fancy laptop laughed softly and started tapping on the keyboard. “On it.”
Ryan watched as people scurried around. While it was frenetic, there was nothing unorganized or panicked about the evacuation. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do, and they were doing it without having to be told or directly supervised. Impressive.
Beckett and the tall man he’d come in with were conversing quietly, looking at the map. The .416 still hung over Beckett’s shoulder. Ryan watched them for a moment then approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt. As he did, Beckett reached for his turban and pulled it off and Ryan froze. A long, thick, red braid fell down Beckett’s back. His jaw dropped and he stared, but in his periphery he saw Beckett’s companion had noticed him and was tapping Beckett on the shoulder. Ryan managed to close his mouth as Beckett turned to face him.
Ryan found himself looking into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. They were large, lined with thick lashes, and had a distinctly feline appearance with tipped up outer corners and a vivid, unwavering gaze. His pulse jumped. He saw the surprise there, as if she’d just remembered why she needed a rifle. She smiled and something in his chest melted.
“Lieutenant,” she said. “How is your man?”
It took him a second to find his voice. “Your corpsman thinks he’ll make it to Bagram, ma’am,” he finally replied.
“Then he’ll make it,” Beckett said. “Doc is the best I’ve ever worked with.” She waited a moment. “Is there something you need, food or water maybe? We’re a little busy but I can get you something to eat or drink if you need it.”
“Um, no, ma’am, we’re good,” he ground out. “I wanted to say thanks for saving our asses back there. That was some pretty impressive marksmanship.”
“Yeah,” agreed the taller man whose jacket read Trippler. He had dark hair cut in a high-and-tight and pale blue eyes. “She does okay... for a girl.” He chuckled and looked at Beckett. “Need to get my stuff, darling,” he said, affecting an awful British accent. “You can tend to our guests without me, can you not?”
Beckett looked at him out of the corner of her eye and fought a smile. “Get out.” She turned back to Ryan. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Tripp likes to infuse humor into tense situations. It’s a coping mechanism, and a character flaw.”
“He your spotter, ma’am?” Ryan asked.
She had a generous mouth with full curves, and that mouth widened into a you-have-a-gift-for-stating-the-obvious smile. He noted the gentle features, the slender nose, and the elegant brows. She was stunning which, oddly enough, irritated him. SEALs weren’t supposed to be stunned by anything, or anyone.
“Indeed he is,” she replied. “And stop calling me ma’am. Now, I’d love to chat but we have to get out of here.”
“Can I help?” he asked, a bit too quickly.
Her smile deepened, revealing a set of dimples that transformed her from cover-girl beauty to girl-next-door approachable, an unnerving and fascinating combination. His heart did an uncharacteristic flip but Ryan schooled his features into what he hoped was an impassive mask and waited for a reply. Thankfully, she had pity on him.
“See to your men, LT,” she said. “When we bug out you’re going to have to help your wounded to the helo, but thankfully the terrain isn’t as rough on the other side of the hill from where you met your new and, sadly, deceased friends. Should be a relatively easy trek.” She turned and started to walk away.
“What’s your name?” he asked, again, a little too quickly.
She lifted one brow and glanced down at her name stitched so neatly on the Arctic camouflage.
Ryan frowned. “I can read,” he said. “What’s your name?”
She studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp and probing but still friendly. “Catharine,” she finally replied, “but you can call me Cat.”
“I’m Lieutenant Ryan Heller,” Ryan said, “and you can call me whatever you want, but the guys call me Reaper.”
“We call her Tiger,” Lee said without once looking up from his computer, “but you’re not qualified for that yet, Lieutenant.”
“Nope,” said Techno as he walked by with an armload of what looked like computer hard drives. “She has to like you first.”
“Maybe she does like him,” Bam-Bam commented as he affixed a round, black disc to the wall with a metal spike. There was a circle of red dots blinking on the front of the disc, and Ryan realized it was some type of explosive, a type, oddly enough, he’d never seen before. Bam-Bam continued speaking, his expression fierce as he concentrated on setting another charge. “After all, she was actually polite to this one. The others she hardly even glanced at, and when they questioned her she showed them why we call her Tiger.”
With that everyone went still and silent and turned to stare at him. It would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so serious.
“Get back to work,” Cat snapped. Immediately the noise resumed and she looked at him. “My apologies, Lieutenant. We rarely get guests so the children are quite unsure how to behave.”
Ryan smiled for what felt like the first time in days. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re on our side.” He paused, leaned toward her, and lowered his voice. “You are on our side, right?”
Cat laughed softly and put a hand on his shoulder. “Cut us and we bleed red, white, and blue, LT.” She turned him toward the tunnel. “Now, wait with your men, please. When it’s time to go, I’ll come get you.”
“And how long will that be, ma’am?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
Cat frowned, but when she saw his smile she chuckled and shook her head. The change in expression was dramatic and Ryan had no trouble understanding why they called her Tiger. When she scowled he had almost expected fangs. Her appearance was fierce, primal, and her stare was just as arresting as that of an angry Bengal.
Ryan knew snipers were a solitary lot who associated mostly with other snipers or their spotters. Their line of work required an entirely different skill set than what was needed to be part of a regimental combat unit, and camaraderie wasn’t top of that priority list. Snipers were lone hunters. He was friends with a few of the military marksmen, though not a close friend. Often, they were regarded with a mystical reverence bordering on fear. Her first four shots had taken less than a minute, and while he had no way to know if she’d hit all her targets the fact their pursuit had stopped told him she probably had. But, unlike some snipers he’d met, he didn’t get the hair-raising vibe from her. Nevertheless, he’d just met her. Perhaps a woman sharpshooter had a different disposition from the men he was familiar with. Until he knew her better, he thought it wise to allow himself to feel some of that reverent fear. After all, discretion was the better part of valor and if he pissed her off she could probably kill him from a mile away. Ryan shook himself as that creepy vibe finally registered.
“We’ll be out in less than an hour, Lieutenant,” she replied, breaking his train of thought. “Don’t worry about your comrade, either. Doc will make sure he’s ready to travel. He’s aware of the time constraints.”
Ryan snapped to attention and extended his hand. She looked at it for a moment then wrapped her fingers firmly around his. A faint tingle crept up his arm and he cleared his throat. “I feel like I should salute you or something,” he said, “but since you’re not a military officer, a handshake and my sincere thanks will have to do until we get back to Bagram.”
Cat tipped her head to the side. “And what happens when we get back to Bagram?”
Unexpected heat burst inside him as he pictured what he’d want to happen, but he managed not to say anything. Pushing those mental photos aside he thought about her question for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Whatever you want,” he said at last. “If it’s within my means it’s yours. You deserve it after what you did for us. We wouldn’t have made it out of that canyon if you weren’t such a crack shot. We owe you our lives.”
He thought he saw a hint of pink creep into her cheeks, but in the half-light of low wattage bulbs it was hard to say for sure. What he did know was she was still holding his hand, and that tingle grew stronger. It was strange, but he found he quite liked it.
“Why don’t you buy me a cup of coffee when we get back to base and we’ll call it even?”
His brows rose. “Really? That’s it? I would have thought dinner at the mess hall would be your first choice, but hey, if coffee’s your thing....” He frowned. “I did say whatever you want, right?” She chuckled and released his hand, much to his disappointment.
“Well,” she began, “if we make it to the helo perhaps I’ll give it some thought on the ride to base.” She met his gaze. “Can I get back to you?”
“Of course, and I have a feeling no matter where I am on base you can find me,” he replied. He gestured toward the rifle. “Just use that scope... finger off the trigger preferably.”
A smile curved her mouth. “Deal.”
“Great.” He turned and started to walk away then looked at her over his shoulder. “Now I’ll go wait with my men. Thanks again... Cate.” He gave her a wink then turned away.
Cat blinked and watched the tall sailor walk confidently down the tunnel, feeling warmth and a strange tingling at the base of her spine. She didn’t like it one bit. His demeanor, his manner, his genuineness was so unlike many Special Forces soldiers she’d met. That particular breed of men possessed a certain type of arrogance that often bordered on narcissism. She recognized it was necessary but she didn’t usually like it. The utter confidence in oneself and one’s abilities exhibited by most SEALs, Green Berets, and the like usually triggered a negative response in her, but not with this one. She remembered the shock of surprise that had registered when she’d met those crystalline blue eyes and the unwelcome jump in her heart rate. Cat crossed her arms over her chest and stared down the tunnel.
He was older than his men, probably mid-thirties, taller and bigger than most SEALs, about as tall and nearly as broad as Tripp. That was roughly four inches taller than her. She knew there was no set standard for the height and weight of SEALs, but shorter, wirier, lighter men usually performed better in the arenas SEAL teams worked in. This meant Lieutenant Heller possessed some impressive physical abilities that allowed him to overcome the disadvantage his size had presented during the qualification process. And while he wasn’t as muscle-bound as Tripp he was muscular in an athletic, beefy way, like Russell Crowe in all his Gladiator glory. His eyes were dark blue, his black hair longer than the typical military cut because of his current location, and even the full beard did nothing to lessen his appeal. Lieutenant Heller was a very attractive man, and it annoyed her that she found herself attracted. This wasn’t the time or the place, and yet she couldn’t remember the last time a man had affected her like he did.
“Admit it, you like him,” Lee said from behind her.
Cat turned a sharp gaze on the man and he immediately returned to what he was doing. With a huff, she set off down one of the side tunnels toward her quarters.
Since she traveled light she didn’t have much to pack, and in less than five minutes she was finished in the small alcove off the secondary tunnel that served as her “bedroom.” Cat hefted her backpack over the shoulder opposite the rifle and walked back toward the main cavern. Everyone was there except Techno, who was no doubt gathering all the top-secret listening equipment from outside. She glanced at her watch and saw 25 minutes had passed since initial contact, but nearly everything was done. Bam-Bam sat on a crate near the entrance tunnel, and she approached him.
“Ready to welcome our guests?” she asked.
Bam-Bam nodded. “All that’s left is to laser-trip the entrance. After everyone else is out I’ll laser-trip the exit tunnel in case anyone makes it through the first car of the welcome wagon.” He pulled a monitor the size of a small cell phone out of his pocket and grinned.
“What’s that?” Cat asked, almost afraid of the answer. Although Bam-Bam was the best at what he did, sometimes his enthusiasm for explosives bordered on the disturbing.
He stroked the smooth, black surface as if it was a lover’s hand. “If I don’t hear the charges, this little baby will tell me when both sets of explosives have been tripped.” He gave her a look that was slightly maniacal. “When that happens....” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out what looked like a dead-man switch. “When that happens, I push this... and the whole top of the mountain explodes. Thanks to me this hill will be a couple hundred feet shorter by close of business today.”
Cat smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You really like keeping the geologists busy, don’t you?”
He grinned, an expression that would send children scurrying to hide behind their mothers. “It provides job security for them and hours of amusement for me. It’s a symbiotic relationship ensuring a positive outcome for all, like those little fish who eat parasites off sharks.”
Cat stepped back and shook her head. “You worry me, Bam-Bam. You really do.”
Techno strode by with an ammo box in each hand. “You’re up, blast-man.”
“Don’t set the laser until I’ve had a chance to go look out front,” Cat reminded him.
Bam-Bam nodded and his face lit up like a child on Christmas. He rubbed his hands together and disappeared down the tunnel. Cat grabbed Techno’s arm.
“How many boxes do we have?” she asked.
He wiggled dark brows at her. “Well, I worked my magic so one each, boss. Lee will carry two since he doesn’t carry a weapon, and two can be loaded on the stretcher with our injured SEAL. That will free you, Tripp, and the Bam-master up. I already cleared it with Doc.”
“Did you magnetize everything else?” she asked.
“Of course.” He smiled and patted her hand. “You can thank me later.”
“I may just kiss you later,” Cat replied. “Thanks, Tech.”
“Anything for you, Tiger.”
Cat watched him disappear down the exit tunnel then took a deep breath and stood on a crate to address the room. “All right,” she began, “is there anyone who’s not ready to leave?” She scanned the cavern, but the men stood there, silent and resolute. Cat smiled. “Good.” She glanced at Lee. “What’s the ETA on the helo?”
Lee looked at his computer then at her. “Five-zero minutes,” he replied.
Cat glanced at her watch. “It’s less than a klick to the LZ, which means we should get there right before the chopper does.” She paused when Lieutenant Heller, his uninjured men, and Doc entered the room. Her eyes met those of the SEAL and again her pulse did a split-second leap. He and his men looked ready to go, their weapons slung over their shoulders. She took another breath and continued. “Techno has the boxes by the back door so grab what you can carry on your way, minimum of one each.”
Lieutenant Heller stepped forward. “My men and I can help.”
“Doc?” she asked, looking at the corpsman.
“I need one guy to help me with the stretcher,” Doc replied. “Other than that, we’re good and ready to go.”
“Okay,” Cat said with a nod. “Lieutenant, pick someone to help Doc carry your guy, and whoever is left can help with cargo.”
“Roger that,” Heller replied with a small smile.
“All right, people,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “You all know the way to the landing zone so move like you have a purpose. Aside from our Navy guests, the most important cargo are those boxes, so I expect all of them to reach the LZ in the same condition you found them. Techno will take point and Tripp, Bam-Bam, and I will bring up the rear. No matter what you hear, gunfire, explosions, Toby Keith singing, do not stop. Get your asses and that equipment to the helo and back to base. Understood?”
“Understood,” was the unified reply.
Cat put her hands on her hips and dropped her chin. “Move out.”
Chapter Two
Ryan stood to the side as people filed past him, moving quickly down the exit tunnel. He looked at Grady. “Go with the Doc,” he said. “Mack and I will hang back and help out.”
Grady nodded. “Yes, sir. See you at the LZ.”
“Be safe.”
“Always,” Grady replied with a grin. “You, too.”
Grady and the Doc disappeared down the passage and Ryan turned back toward the main cavern. Cat and Bam-Bam stood at the map table, checking weapons and stacking empty M16 magazines as Tripp grabbed a box of ammunition, obviously the large-caliber bullets for Cat’s rifle. He grunted to get her attention and tossed the bullets to her. She put aside one cartridge and then emptied the box into an ammo bag attached to her belt. The tinkling of brass was almost musical. She closed the Velcro seal on the ammo bag and turned her attention to her rifle. Ryan watched her, admiring the efficient grace with which she handled the weapon. Her movements were easy, practiced, almost sensual, and his thoughts started to drift. After inspecting the rifle, she dropped the single 4 1/2 inch shell into the open chamber and slammed the bolt home with the ease and confidence of someone who worked with the four-foot, 23 pound weapon on a frequent basis. She propped the rifle against the table and reached for a box of normal ammunition.
“She’s obviously done this before,” Mack said under his breath.
Ryan shook himself and glanced at his teammate. “Y’think?” When she began loading the M16 magazines he walked toward her. “If you have some more 5.56, Mack and I can help. I may not be able to take out a target at 1500 meters, but I’m not a bad shot.”
“Yeah,” Mack affirmed. “I’m pretty good in a firefight, too.”
Tripp reached under the table and came up with four boxes of 5.56 cartridges in his huge, meaty hands. “Here you go, gentlemen. The more the merrier.”
“Thanks,” Ryan said, taking the boxes and handing two to Mack. They joined the others at the table and started filling empty magazines. Ryan glanced under the table and then looked at Cat. “You’ve got a lot of ammunition here. Expecting an army?”
A grim smile curved her mouth as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She picked up an empty M16 magazine. “Better to have it and not need it than the other way around, don’t you agree?”
Ryan chuckled ruefully. “Yes, ma’am, I would definitely have to agree with that.”
Silence prevailed for a few minutes, broken only by the click of bullets being inserted into magazines. When Cat had loaded a dozen or so she stacked them in front of her and leaned her elbows on the table.
“Lieutenant,” she began, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Well, Cate,” Ryan said, “since you saved my life I think you can ask me just about anything.”
She turned toward him. “What the hell were you and your team doing out here?”
“To be honest, I’m kind of wondering that myself now.” Ryan frowned and continued to load his magazines. “It was supposed to be a light mission. A truckload of weapons and ammo was hijacked from a convoy about a week ago. RPGs, rocket launchers, M16s.” His scowl deepened. “We received intel that part of the hijacked weapons had been stashed in a village not far from where the convoy was hit, about 40 klicks north of here.” He looked at Cat. “We got sent out, and the objective was simple. Recon the village to determine whether or not the weapons were there, and if they were, destroy them. Easy, right?”
“What happened?” Cat asked.
“We weren’t even halfway there when we got ambushed,” Mack said with an angry huff. He stuffed his now full magazines in his TAC vest and looked at Ryan. “It’s almost like they knew we were coming.”
Ryan flashed Mack a warning look. “Mack, zip it.”
Cat’s eyes narrowed and she straightened. “You think it was a set up?”
Ryan met her gaze and said nothing.
“Wow.” She blinked and exhaled slowly then looked at Tripp. “And they ran straight this way.” Tripp nodded, but remained mute.
“We didn’t have much choice,” Ryan said. “This was the only direction bullets weren’t coming from.” He paused and frowned. “Wait, do you think something bigger is going on here?”
Cat planted her hands on her hips, a scowl on her brow. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I’ve never liked coincidences, but in this country, it’s almost impossible to tell if something was planned or the bad guys got lucky. I’ve seen both happen.”
“Me, too,” Ryan said. “So, what do we do now?”
Cat chewed her lip for a moment then loaded an M16 and handed it to him. “We need to finish this conversation,” she said at last, “but not now.” She turned to Bam-Bam. “You ready?” The demolitionist nodded and stood. Cat glanced over her shoulder at Tripp. “Tripp, you and the SEALs grab whatever boxes are left outside and hightail it for the helo. Bam and I will be right on your heels.” Tripp walked over to her and held out a hand. Cat slung her rifle over her shoulder and handed over her backpack. The huge man shrugged into it and turned toward the exit tunnel. Bam-Bam and Cat started walking the opposite direction.
Ryan frowned, slung the M16 across his back and shouldered his M4. “Wait,” he said, “where are you guys going?”
Cat stopped, turned, and gave him a tolerant look. “I’m going out front to see if anyone’s coming this way. If they are, I’m going to try and convince them to rethink that plan of action.”
“And once she’s done convincing I’m going to activate the lasers,” Bam-Bam added.
“We’ll be right behind you, LT,” she said.
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. “Mack, go with Trippler. I’m staying here.”
Cat lifted one arched brow. “Lieutenant....”
“Go on, Mack,” Ryan said. “I’ll be on your six.”
Mack grabbed his rifle and nodded. “You got it, Reaper.”
Cat waited until Tripp and Mack had left the cavern then she sighed. “Have it your way, LT. Grab as much ammo as you can carry and Bam and I will be back in five.” A jaunty smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Then again, depending on how close they are it may be sooner, so, be ready to go.”
“I’ll be ready,” Ryan replied. “Just make sure you come back.”
“Oh, I’ll be back,” she said, a mischievous sparkle in those vivid green eyes. “I fully intend to collect on that cup of coffee.”
The heat in his chest expanded even as his throat tightened in anxious anticipation, and it took everything inside of him not to follow her. He was accustomed to running toward danger not waiting around for it to come to him, especially when there was a woman in the middle of it all. Yeah, I’m a caveman. Ryan scowled and started grabbing boxes of ammunition from under the table. When he could carry no more he stood and looked around the deserted cavern. There was still a lot of equipment in the room, but nothing they seemed overly concerned with leaving behind. He walked over to a blank computer monitor and turned it off as several pops came from the direction of the tunnel. Ryan’s head snapped up and he started toward the passage. Before he could take another step, Cat ran into the cavern.
“Time to go, Lieutenant.”
Ryan stared at her for a second. She was smiling and her cheeks were pink. In fact, she actually seemed to be enjoying this.
“Where’s Bam-Bam?” he asked.
“On my six,” she replied.
“I take it we’re going to have company?”
“They’re not here yet, but they’re coming.”
At that moment, Bam-Bam materialized out of the tunnel. “Let’s move,” he said. “After you, Lieutenant. Once you and Cat are out I have to arm the lasers on this side.”
Cat sprinted across the cavern and Ryan followed on her heels. They ran down the tunnel, past the alcoves where the medical bay had been and others Ryan hadn’t seen before now. He ignored it all and concentrated on following her. She moved like a feline, lithe and quick. The tunnel wound through the mountain for another hundred meters or so before he saw light. About a minute later they emerged into the frigid mountain air.
They were on a semi-circular landing with a narrow trail leading down from the western edge to his right. Ryan immediately knelt and raised his weapon, peering through the scope at the surrounding countryside. Although their enemies had been on the other side of the peak, that didn’t mean there weren’t bad guys on this side. However, the air was cold and still, the silence oddly reassuring. If there were Taliban on this side of the mountain no doubt a firefight would be raging between them and the people who had already evacuated.
“How far back are they?” Ryan asked. He glanced at Cat and saw she had assumed a similar stance, her eyes peering into the brush.
“I got two at about 500 meters,” she replied, her cheek resting on the stock of the rifle. “I saw a total of six, but I’m sure more are coming. They’ll pause for a few, gather their wits and their dead, and then continue to follow us.”
Ryan chuckled grimly. “That would be their worst decision today.”
She smiled and continued to survey the countryside. “No, their worst decision was going after you guys in the first place.”
“And so, the Tiger came out,” Ryan said. “Good for us, bad for them.”
Bam-Bam exited the tunnel and gave Cat a thumbs-up then followed the trail down the western slope. Cat took another look through her scope, rose, and inclined her head.
“After you, Lieutenant,” she said.
Ryan stood and shook his head. “Nope. We go together.”
She pursed her lips. “The trail is only big enough to go single file.”
“Then humor me,” he said, planting the butt of his rifle on his hip, “and give me something to follow. Call me a caveman if you want, but chasing something pretty provides me with incentive to move faster.” In the light of day, the faint flush that stained her cheeks was much easier to see, despite the overcast skies and light snowfall. She scowled and Ryan grinned. “After you, Cate. I always bring up the rear. Call it a coping mechanism, or a character flaw.”
There was a mutinous set to her chin and an angry glint in her eyes that made his smile widen, and her scowl turned darker.
“Fine,” she said at last, jogging past him, “but only because we don’t have time to argue right now.”
He gave her a small head start, then followed and matched her pace. “Whenever you want to argue, ma’am,” he said with a low chuckle, “I will be happy to oblige you.”
The terrain was easier on this side of the peak, but it was still a mountain in Afghanistan, so easier was a relative term. Between the topography and the altitude, Ryan knew even the most physically fit individuals would have difficulty. But he was a Navy SEAL. He lived for this type of stuff. It seemed Cat, too, was accustomed to the difficult landscape. She was quick and sure on her feet as the trail continued on a downward angle. Occasionally she glanced at him over her shoulder, and he gave her a cheerful salute in response. He had a feeling it annoyed her and that made him grin.
They’d been moving for about twenty minutes when the mountain shook and the sound of an explosion reached them. The three skidded to a halt and looked back. The peak itself was obscured by trees and brush, but the cloud of smoke rising into the sky was much easier to see.
“Looks like they found the entrance,” Ryan commented.
“Which means we need to pick up the pace,” Cat said. “It’ll slow them down, but I don’t want to give them a chance to shoot that helicopter out of the sky once we get airborne.”
“Hear, hear,” Bam-Bam said. “Picking up the pace, boss.”
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