Clear by Fire (25 page)

“So you want to be my friend, is that what you’re saying?” Mason was getting tired of the games, and if he was going to hang, then he’d rather get it over with.

Before the man could reply, the door to the room opened and a man stuck his head in. He motioned for Mr. David to come out into the hall.

“Please excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

“Can I have a cigarette, in the spirit of cooperation?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Mason was examining his flex cuffs when the door opened and an attractive woman walked into the room. The sterile uniform she was wearing told him instantly that she was not with the CIA.

“Did Mr. David need a bathroom break?” he asked.

She smiled without humor and pulled a knife from her pocket. Walking over to Mason, she slipped the hook of the blade into his
flex cuffs and cut them free. Tossing a pack of cigarettes on the table, she made her way to the empty chair.

“My name is Renee,” she began.

“Are you with the CIA too?”

“Nope, I’m with the military,” she said, taking a seat.

Mason pulled a cigarette from the pack and looked around for a lighter. Renee leaned over the table, lit the smoke with his Zippo, and then tossed it on the open file.

“Thanks,” he said after taking a drag.

“Mason, I don’t have time for bullshit, so I’m going to get right down to it,” she said, pulling her pistol out and placing it on the table. “I’m running a time-sensitive operation right now and either you can help me or I’m going to put a bullet in your head.”

Surprised, Mason looked down at the pistol and then up at the woman’s face. He cocked his head to the side and took another drag from the cigarette.

Who in the hell was this woman? Mason wondered, about to call her bluff when she picked up the pistol and aimed it at his head.

“I think I’m being detained by the CIA, so you might want to get in line,” he said, trying another approach.

“I’m not worried about the CIA. You have five seconds.”

Mason was pretty sure she wasn’t bluffing.

“How can I help?” he asked with a shrug.

“You used to work for Colonel Barnes and a man named Decklin.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Where are they?”

“Barnes is probably out killing children, but Decklin is dead.”

“What?”

“I know for a fact that Decklin is dead,” Mason said slowly.

They sized each other up in the silence that followed. Mason had no idea who this crazy chick was. He assumed she was either military intelligence or with the DoD. The fact that she knew more about
him than he did about her put him at a disadvantage, but what really worried him was that she probably worked for General Swift, and that complicated things.

Renee had expected a monster, but the man sitting in front of her appeared at ease and confident. He oozed a subtle charm and self-assuredness that was common among Tier 1 soldiers, but there was an underlying intelligence in his eyes that was disconcerting.

“So Barnes has finally shown his true colors?” Mason asked, breaking the silence.

“Looks that way.”

“Well, he killed Karzai, so it can’t be all bad.”

“He also murdered the inhabitants of two villages and decapitated most of the Taliban in Pakistan.”

“Besides the villagers, I don’t see what the problem is. Karzai was a douche.”

“We don’t murder people. I would think that you, of all people, should respect that.”

“I’ve got Decklin’s computer. If you can get me out of here, I’ll kill Barnes for you.”

“I’m sure you would, but can I trust you?”

“I guess we just have to find out.”

M
r. David walked back into the room. He didn’t appear to mind that Mason was no longer secured or that Renee was sitting in his chair. Closing the door behind him, he placed his hands in his pockets and relaxed against the wall.

“So, who’s in charge here?” Mason asked as he looked from person to person.

“That is an excellent question,” the man began. “Ms. Hart, does General Swift know that you are utilizing fake identification papers to gain access to a secure facility?”

“I doubt it, but I’m sure he has more important matters to deal with.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, we follow protocol here, and unless you have the proper documentation, I’m going to have to escort you off the premises.”

“Try it,” she said, aiming the pistol at him.

“Looks like a Mexican standoff to me,” Mason joked.

“I need to borrow your detainee for a while. I hope that’s not a problem,” Renee said.

“There are some people in my organization who will have a problem with that.”

Renee smiled and got to her feet, still holding the pistol on Mr. David. “Mason, get up, we’re leaving.”

Mason stayed seated, casually finishing his cigarette. “So does General Swift know you’re here?” he asked.

“What?” He could tell she hadn’t expected the question by the look on her face.

“You know, General Swift, your boss. Does he know that you’re about to kidnap an American citizen, or is he taking orders from someone too?”

Renee stared at the American, refusing to back down, even though her brain scrambled to find the logical conclusion of his questions.

“If I may . . .” Mr. David pulled his hand out of his pocket and held up his index finger in a silent bid for caution. “I think you will find it difficult to leave this facility without garnering a great deal of unwanted attention. There is a way in which we can all get what we want if we can just take a moment to clear this up.”

“I don’t have time for that. I need to get in contact with my team.”

“So, he doesn’t know you’re here?” Mason asked.

“Mason, get up, and follow me. You too, Mr. David,” Renee commanded.

The two men shrugged and let themselves be led out of the room.

Once out in the hall Renee pushed the agent into one of the interrogation rooms and made sure the door was locked.

Mason kept walking along the hall, looking into each of the rooms, ignoring Renee’s instruction to follow her. Finally he found the one he was looking for. He opened the final door and was greeted by the sight of Zeus chained to a metal table.

“Hey, man, this place sucks. I figured we should probably leave,” he said with a cocky grin.

“Who is that and why is she pointing a pistol at you?” the Libyan asked calmly in Arabic as Mason and Renee stepped into the room.

“She’s our new friend,” Mason replied, searching for the key to his chains.

“But she’s a woman,” Zeus said as she approached the table.

“You’re very perceptive,” Renee replied in Arabic.

Taking the lock in her hand, she put the pistol back in her holster and pulled a metal pick out of her back pocket. Sticking it into the lock, she ignored Mason, who’d picked up a metal chair and lifted it over his head.

“Watch out, I’m going to smash it,” he said.

The lock popped open in Renee’s hand and she looked at him and rolled her eyes. “You’re going to smash the lock with a chair?”

“I think I like her,” Zeus said as he stood and rubbed his wrists.

Renee set the lock on the table while Mason gently set the chair back on the ground.

“Hey, whose team are you on?” he said.

“She is very pretty,” Zeus whispered.

“Yeah, well, she wanted to leave you here, so don’t forget who your real friends are. Besides, she works for Swift.”

“Will you two shut up and follow me?” she commanded as she slipped out the door.

Mason frowned and followed her out into the large hangar, which was empty except for two black Suburbans.

“Do we have time to get my stuff?” Mason asked as she checked the first vehicle to see if it was unlocked.

“Are you serious?”

“I was just asking.”

Renee found that the second truck was unlocked and hopped into the driver’s seat. She sat looking around for the keys until Mason pulled down the visor and they fell into her lap. Renee shot him a dirty look and started the vehicle.

“Zeus, look in the back, see if they left any weapons,” Mason said as Renee put the car in drive and pulled up to the bay door. She looked at her watch nervously and waited for the door to open. Someone shouted from the office area on the second floor of the hangar and she cursed as the door remained closed.

“Shit.”

“Some rescue,” Mason said as he hopped out of the truck and ran
over to the control panel on the wall. He punched the green arrow on the top of the panel and the door motor kicked on with a metallic grunt. Renee pulled forward as the door crept open and Mason extended his middle finger to the man running down the steel stairs.

“Go, go,” he said as he hopped in the truck and slammed the door.

“I found this,” Zeus said, holding up a tire iron in the backseat.

“Great, that’s a lot of help,” Mason said to the shrugging Libyan.

Renee punched the accelerator and pulled out her phone as they sped out into the sunlight. Mason squinted and cast a quick glance around the base as she dialed a number and hit send.

“We’re on our way and need to leave fast,” she said.

“This isn’t going to end well,” Mason warned her as he glanced over his shoulder.

The base appeared brand-new, but had no distinguishing features that would tell him where they were. All of the buildings were corrugated metal and had been painted an earthy brown. The heat shimmered off the roofs as they reflected the sun’s rays, and Mason wished he had his sunglasses. Up ahead, he could see the dark asphalt of the runway and a row of Pave Low helicopters parked neatly in a row.

“There is a truck coming this way,” Zeus said from the backseat, and Renee glanced to her left to see another black Suburban racing toward them.

“Doesn’t look like they are going to stop,” Mason said as she gunned the engine and clenched the wheel.

A man leaned out of the window and waved his arm at their vehicle as the driver tried to close the distance.

“Put your seat belts on,” she said, ignoring Mason.

They were a hundred meters from the gate that led to the flight line when their pursuers fired a warning shot over the front of the truck. Mason couldn’t hear the rifle go off, but he saw the flame spitting from the muzzle.

“Uhhh, they’re shooting at us.”

“Relax, it’s just a warning shot.”

Mason opened the glove box, hoping to find a pistol, but there was nothing inside but an owner’s manual and an air gauge.

“I hope you have a plan,” he said, slamming the glove box shut.

“Just enjoy the ride,” she replied as a burst hit the hood of the truck and bounced off with a spark.

A white Gulfstream sat on the tarmac barely two hundred meters away. Renee shot through the open gate, knocking the side mirror off the truck as she did, and Mason turned to look at the truck trying to catch them.

Three men with rifles ran out of a metal shed near the small control tower and fired at them as Renee cut the wheel and ducked behind a row of cargo trucks. The engine roared as she mashed hard on the gas and barely missed a ground crew loading a small prop plane.

“Holy shit, you’re going to kill someone,” Mason said, grabbing the dashboard.

“Will you shut up and let me drive?”

Slamming her foot on the brakes, she skidded the truck to a halt beside the waiting plane and jammed it into park. Hopping out, she made her way toward the stairs and waited for Zeus and Mason.

“Can you two hurry the fuck up?” she asked, pulling her pistol from her waistband and aiming it at the rapidly approaching SUV. Mason and Zeus sprinted, and she followed, her pistol at the ready. She stuck her head into the cockpit and was about to tell the pilot to go when she felt a barrel push against her neck.

I
t had been almost eight hours since Harden had used the unsecure phone to place a call, and according to their sources on base, an operation was in the works to take the bait.

It was a waiting game now. Jones had just called their final grid up to the colonel, and the rest of the team was resting in the shade of their security position, double-checking their weapons.

The valley was more of a long depression than anything else and lacked the well-defined attributes of similar terrain in Afghanistan. A river had once flowed out of the mountains to the north, and its course had cut a shallow trough through the rich landscape. Dark green grass and multicolored wildflowers flourished in the rich sediment deposited by its waters, and the majestic pines dotting the high ground provided much-appreciated shade.

Interspersed among the lush vegetation were sporadic patches of smooth stones and stoic gray boulders, carried down from the mountain peaks. At first glance, the granite rocks appeared to offer ideal cover and concealment, and that was exactly what Harden wanted them to think.

The only usable landing zone was to the southeast of his position, where the wide, grassy plain could accommodate the heavy helicopters. Harden had studied the same satellite imagery that they
would be using, and he knew that the valley was invisible until you were actually on the ground. Whoever was coming would naturally be funneled into his kill zone, with nowhere to run.

•  •  •

Kevin stood in the center of the unoccupied tent, holding a black laser pointer. Studying the terrain model on the floor, he waited patiently for the pilots to finish up their briefing. His stomach twisted in knots, but he did his best to hide the nerves.

The model was basically a large rectangular sandbox that he’d set up to replicate the topographical features of the team’s objective. The primary infiltration route was a length of red string that snaked from the helicopter landing zone, or HLZ, all the way up to the target location. Every alternate landing zone, rally point, and phase line was represented with its own symbol so that every member of the team had a visual understanding of the mission.

He had done his best to be as thorough as possible, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he had missed something.