Counter-Strike (A Mitch Kearns Combat Tracker Novel Book 2) (11 page)

Chapter 24

Crenna peered out the window of the small
cargo plane, his eyes trying to penetrate the inky jungle canopy below on the
island of Sumatra. Crenna had used the sub-dermal GPS tracker that Von had
inserted into his forearm. It was standard protocol for Crenna’s field
operatives though outside of agency knowledge.

At a remote airstrip, he rendezvoused with
a team of Egyptian mercenaries that he used on occasion for specialized wet
work. Their dark complexion allowed them to blend in better than his European
teams and these were men who’d loyally served him for the past six years. He’d
made the acquaintance of the team leader, Masala, a clean-cut fighter with a
flattened nose, during his days running kill squads for the Jordanian
government, when he was on loan from the agency.

Now, he needed their services once more to
contain a rapidly escalating situation with Kyle. Crenna rubbed the sides of
his temples, trying to ease his tension. It was still possible to cover his
treasonous betrayal if he could locate Kyle’s center of operations and
eliminate everyone involved, including Von, whose location revealed itself as a
red blip on Crenna’s GPS tracker. Either Von was in hiding or he had been
captured, given the stationary image of the signal over the past two days.
Crenna knew if it was the latter, then Kyle would fill the young agent’s head
with his side of the story in order to sway his resolve. Crenna sighed at the
thought of losing Von. He’d become an outstanding agent and protégé but Von
might soon be privy to what happened in Beijing years ago which meant the man
was nearing his expiration date.

The moon was rising and spreading light
upon the undulating treetops below. Crenna looked at the GPS unit and knew the
drop zone was approaching. He unbuckled and made his way to the back, passing
five surly mercenaries who were busy doing a last-minute gear check on their
parachutes. Crenna hunched over Masala and whispered in his ear, “Remember,
retrieve any pertinent intel and laptops then burn the place to the ground
along with anyone still inside.”

Masala nodded, giving him a thumbs-up as a
light on the wall turned from red to green. The large figure stood, dwarfing
Crenna, and motioned to his men to line up as the rear cargo ramp lowered.
Crenna grabbed onto a looped handhold near the ceiling, the humid wind whipping
his flossy gray hair around. The other men filed past him, jumping off the
platform over the treeline below.

***

The jungle floor came up fast and Masala
just cleared the edge of the forest, landing in an oval-shaped swath of grass. He
had done his share of airborne operations when he worked in the Egyptian Elite
Forces but he never liked night drops in the jungle where you could get hung up
in a tree or slam into a shallow riverbed. His other men touched down nearby
and they quickly re-assembled by a thick cluster of young palm trees. Masala knelt
down and opened up his small tablet, studying the faint green screen for the
location of the former Japanese base where his targets were located according
to Crenna’s hastily provided intel.

“Three kilometers to go and we’ve got five
hours until sunrise.” He motioned to the man next to him to take point while he
tucked his device into a cargo pocket on his pants. He stood up, taking in a
deep breath and feeling the assault of mosquitos already homing in on his neck.
Masala preferred more open landscapes like the desert but he went wherever the
American sent him. One short gig with the old man and Masala wouldn’t have to
work again for nine months. He dropped his usual bodyguarding work when the
American with the raspy voice called, identifying himself solely by the phrase,
“I’m calling about a new invoice from Cairo.”

Masala didn’t even know the American’s real
name nor did he care. Whenever he received a call, it was immediately followed
by a down payment in his bank account with detailed instructions for the job
following within eight hours. The balance was always promptly paid within two
hours of completing the job, whether it was kidnapping, torture, extortion, or
outright assassination. He preferred the latter as it left less residue in his
psyche when he was trying to unwind after an assignment.

He glanced over his shoulder at the moon
as he slipped into the forest, knowing that this green purgatory would be a
distant memory twenty-four hours from now. Then he’d be reclining at a
beachside cabana in Thailand with young women who would do anything to him or
to each other for the right price.

Chapter 25

Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea

The ninety-six-foot yacht was anchored off
the coast of an unnamed island near Malta. Three women clad in bikinis were
sunning themselves atop the main deck in view of the captain, who was resting
in his chair. This had been the same scene that had played out over the past
three days as the vessel moved from island to island.

Around noon, one of the women got up and
sauntered down the mahogany spiral staircase that led below deck. She stopped
on the first floor to obtain a chilled glass of vermouth before heading down to
the lowest level where the sounds of Chopin filled the room. She walked up
behind Anton Tokarev and handed him the glass; his arm extended without looking
up at her. He took a sip and then let her massage his shoulders for a few
minutes before brushing her off and nodding for her to leave.

Putting the empty glass down on a round
table whose legs were made from ivory tusks, he continued flipping through his
book,
The
Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire
. He’d been forced to
read it before in younger days at the boarding school in Kiev before he was
expelled for nearly beating another student to death. Now, he was trying to
learn from the events leading up to the final days of the once great world that
was Rome. He leafed through the dog-eared pages in the chapter that discussed
how something as simple as malaria had halted the expansion of the empire and
brought its magnificent army to its knees.

His mind was too distracted to digest much
and he interspersed each page with a furtive glance at his Cartier gold watch
with the diamond inlays. It cost as much as most people made in a year and he
had eight of them in his collection aboard the yacht.

Since making the acquaintance of Kyle in
the Chinese prison and helping him to escape, he’d grown increasingly dependent
on the talented spy for increasing his stranglehold on illegal mob activities
throughout Moscow. In the past three years, he had snuffed out most of his
competition and acquired enough dirt on the politicians at the Kremlin to
assure control of his business holdings. But after spending most of his fifty-two
years in Russia, he had grown weary of the cold. He had briefly tried to
venture out into new territory with the Triads in China but that only landed
him in a dank cell and put him on the receiving end of punishment that he was used
to doling out himself.

He wanted to expand his reach but had no
desire to get bogged down in endless turf wars in other countries for years. When
Kyle came to him, after their escape from the Chinese prison, and discussed his
scheme for crushing the two great economies of the world, he was more than
intrigued. Now their plan was close to fruition. He glanced at his watch again
as if his impatient glare could increase the revolution of the hands. He
reached for his glass but remembered it was empty and pressed the buzzer on his
recliner.

Anton flipped the voluminous book back to
the first few pages, full of black-and-white drawings of the emperors. He gazed
upon the haughty image of Caligula, caressing the outline of the face, then
raising a hand to his own cheek.

Chapter 26

After they’d put a few miles behind them,
Marco led the group to a small finger of land that jutted out above a valley.
The view was magnificent and a distant waterfall, which resembled a white
ribbon, muscled its way through the jade green carpet below. With nightfall
fast approaching, he had everyone set up the hammocks he’d provided after which
they dug into some Asian version of an MRE packet. Dev was sitting on a fallen
tree, rubbing the sole of her bare foot when Marco came over. He placed a
folded green poncho on the rotting log and sat down beside her. She shimmied a
few feet away without glancing at him, like he was another annoying feature of
this hellish landscape.

“Be careful where you put your hands out
here,” he said. “Most of these downed logs are covered with monkey shit. You
get some on you accidentally and then touch your skin later, you’ll get a nasty
threadworm larva burrowing into your skin. Two days later, you got this little
bastard wriggling under your epidermis.” He fluttered his fingers in her face.
“Had one get in beside my ribs once and could see it snaking around just below
the surface like a piece of fishing line. Nearly took my blade and dug it out
myself. Drove me fuckin’ insane for a week until we got to a small village with
a med clinic.”

Dev had stopped her foot massage and
replaced her boots then stood up and scanned her former seat on the bare wood.
“If you’re fucking with me, Marco…”

He raised his hand and was about to
respond when Mitch walked by. “Marco’s not telling a tall one this time. I was
there on that op. Those threadworms are like something out of a horror movie.
I’d pay heed to his advice.” Mitch continued moving past them, rolling down his
sleeves as he headed into the treeline to relieve David of guard duty.

Dev followed him with her eyes until he
seemed to melt into the foliage. Upon turning around, she caught Marco checking
her out. He just smiled and slowly turned his eyes towards the treetop. “Don’t
worry, you’re safe with me. I never hit on another man’s lady, especially one
who belongs to a friend of mine.”

“How honorable. And I don’t belong to any
man.”

“Right.” He shook his head and chuckled.

“Besides, Mitch told me about how you
nearly got both of your heads removed in a bar fight in Manila years ago.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. I nearly forgot
about that one.”

“Is that how he got that nasty scar on his
forearm?”

Marco grew silent and looked at her, his
grin disappearing. “No, no. That was from Afghanistan.” He glanced beyond her
shoulder in the direction Mitch had gone then turned his eyes back to her. “He
never told you about that one, eh?”

“We’ve only known each other a short time
though it feels like a lot longer sometimes.”

“He sure likes you by the way he was
gushing last night. Thought he was gonna cry on my shoulder at one point.”

Dev kicked him in the leg. “Shut up. Mitch
isn’t the whiny type from what I know.”

“You’re right actually, he’s not. And
that’s why you’re not likely to ever hear what happened near the Pakistan border.”
Marco leaned back slightly, looking beyond Dev one more time before continuing.
“We were in a village near Asmar, a remote region in the mountains that seemed
to have more dung than peasants. We had been working with a local resistance
group for several weeks and our team was tracking a small pocket of Taliban
that were doing slash-and-burn hits to anyone suspected of working with the
U.S. forces or our allies. This particular group had hit a small outpost of
ours and made off with some sensitive data. A late season spring storm had
rolled in and we were getting hammered by the snow and wind. It was colder than
two-day-old penguin shit and most of us were trying to prevent frostbite.”

Marco leaned back, pulling one knee up to
his chest and wrapping his bear-like hands around it. “We came upon this
village that had been wiped out, bodies strung up off the bridge with the skin
missing—little ones, old ones, women, no one was spared, it seemed. It was like
something out of your worst nightmare. There were three survivors hiding in the
rubble. A mother and her two little kids, they couldn’t have been more than
five years old. The team leader insisted we stay put until the weather cleared
so we could help the family. Our unit commander back in Kabul ordered us to
push on and retrieve the intel despite the protesting of the team leader. He requested
a helo extract for the three survivors but the weather was too inhospitable to
risk a flight.”

He grew silent for a long moment, looking
up at a bat zipping in figure-eights near the canopy. “We left the family with
some MREs and medical supplies then made our way through the valley, picking up
the tracks of the insurgents. It took another day before we caught the fuckin’
ragheads in a small canyon. We had the high ground so picking them off wasn’t
exactly a challenge. Our team leader was the only one who suffered a wound; an
AK round grazed his forearm. With the intel in our hands, we double-timed it
back to the village. He swathed the injury and refused any further treatment. Like
the rest of us, his thoughts were focused solely on the fate of the woman and
her children. We walked through the night over terrain that would kill a billy
goat, arriving at the village at sunrise.

Marco lowered his chin and let out a strained
sigh. “The family was still there, huddled under the shattered roof of the last
remaining hut, their bodies…their bodies…frozen together like statues. The eyes
of the little ones still open, looking upward at their mother whose frozen
tears were still clinging to her cheeks.”

“Christ,” whispered Dev as she moved
closer.

“We had all seen horrors before but
nothing like that. Something that could’ve been prevented if we’d only stayed a
little longer. Orders were orders though—you look like someone who knows what
that means.” Marco looked beyond Dev towards the treeline. “The team leader
took it the hardest. It changed him from the man I knew. It took its toll on
all of us but a part of Mitch died that day.”

Dev looked up at a sliver of moonlight
piercing the canopy, letting out a deep sigh. She looked at Marco, whose facial
muscles were quivering, then out at the forest where Mitch had gone.

“Combat is horrible enough to endure
without having to lose one’s soul to remorse. I’m sorry for what you went through.”
She folded her arms, taking in a deep breath. “I know from my own experiences,
you either get bitter or get better, though some days are easier than others.”

Marco raised his chin slightly, emitting a
forced grin. “Ah, shit, you know—you find ways to cope whether it’s burying
yourself in the bottle or your job.”

Dev felt the sting of the latter word like
a boxer’s jab had struck her in the jaw. Had she been immersed in her father’s
company for the sake of carrying on his legacy or because the insane schedule
numbed her to being alone with her own thoughts? She wasn’t sure but she forced
her mind back to the present and knew it wasn’t time to focus on her own
difficulties. She removed her poncho from her pack and put it down on the log,
sitting beside Marco.

“So, is that why you disappeared into
Malaysia after you left the army?” she said. “Mitch told me you removed
yourself from everyone back home and cut ties for a while.”

“When you’re that dark inside, it’s better
not to swallow up the ones you care about. I needed a break, hell, we all did
after running non-stop missions abroad for so many years. I was always amazed
that Mitch stayed in as long as he did but then he’s always been a glutton for
punishment—fuckin’ cowboy.”

Marco stood up and arched his back while
raising his arms skyward in a stretch. “Better get some rest while you can.
Tomorrow is going to be another good bitch-slap in the face like we had with
today’s trek.” He nodded to her and walked to his hammock, turning around
before he climbed inside. “You’re alright, Dev. I doubted you could hack it
when I first laid eyes on you but you’re not half bad.”

She rolled her eyes and snickered. “See
you at sun-up, Marco.”

Dev hoisted herself up and walked past
Petra and David’s hammocks, hearing both men stir slightly in their light
sleep. She walked twenty feet into the jungle to where Mitch was leaning
against a tree, his AK strung off the front of his chest as he peered into the
valley below, which was illuminated in the moonlight.

He cast a sideways glance at her as she
sidled up next to him. “You seem right at home in the tropics and here I
thought you were a desert caballero.”

His lips cracked in a faint smile. “I’ll
tell you, I never get used to this stinking humidity and all the bugs. Yeah,
I’d take the desert any day.” He looked over his shoulder towards their camp.
“You and Marco have a good talk? He fillin’ your head with more tales of his
prowess and alcohol-driven exploits?”

“You sure know how to pick your friends,
I’ll say that much.”

He slid his hand down, interlacing his
fingers with hers while looking into her eyes. “I sure do.” She ran her fingers
up his arm, pausing as she moved over the scar. Mitch turned and brushed the
hair off her forehead, tracing his fingers along her neck. She felt her heart
racing, the sounds of the night fading. Then he moved closer and kissed her,
pulling her in towards him as she inhaled his earthy fragrance. She slid her
arms around his neck and felt months of tension release as her desires surged forth.
Dev ran her hands through his hair, her chest melting into his. Then a
nighthawk shrieked on a nearby branch and they abruptly pulled apart.

Dev took a deep breath, sliding one hand
back over her tussled hair and then looking back at the hammocks. Mitch reached
down for her hand and rose up on his toes, bobbing his head back and forth,
looking at their camp then towards her with a smile. “All is well, it seems.”

She squeezed his fingers firmly, rubbing
her thumb over the back of his hand. “I mustn’t keep you from guard duty, Mr.
Kearns. We can’t have a breakdown in discipline.”

“Yeah, that’d be real bad for morale, Ms.
Leitner. Plus what kind of tone would that set in our relationship being as I’m
your client and all.”

She bit her lower lip, holding back a
wicked grin. “Client, right, of course. You know maybe we should revisit our
terms sometime.” Dev gave his hand a final squeeze before pulling away.

“Maybe we should.” Mitch walked back a few
steps towards his lookout tree.

Dev began slowly backpedaling, her head
tilted down with a frolicsome smile forming. “Tomorrow, we should definitely,
for certain, you know, go over what we want in this venture.” She waved one
hand in a half-wave and then turned and quickly retreated to the main camp,
stopping once to glance at the fine man standing with his back to her, the
moonlight cascading over his rugged features.