Mega 3: When Giants Collide (Mega Series) (18 page)

“I don’t think Darby has complete trust in anyone,” Tank Top said.

“Fuck you, you know what I mean,” Bokeem snapped.

“Only the one-eyed asshole was on the MB kicking shit,” Tank Top said. “The chick sniper was over here putting holes in our shooters.”

“My point exactly. I would have laid my fortune on our shooters to take out anyone, on any day, in any condition,” Bokeem responded. “She popped them while they had scopes on her. Fuck that.”

“Okay, okay,” Tank Top sighed, “what the fuck is your real point?

“That we were never meant to succeed with Ballantine,” Bokeem said. “Not as his true Team. Everything he’s done has led to these people. They’re better than we are. They have skills above the norm, and I’m talking above the SOF norm, not every day soldier norm.”

“Yeah, well, we knew that was possible coming in,” Tank Top said. “We heard the stories, we read the reports our employers sent us, and we’ve studied these fucks. They’ve killed giant sharks, giant snakes, something with spiders or squids or squid spiders or whatever. They have taken on the cartels and Somali pirates, plus cannibal tribes and even a weird mist. These guys have been working non-stop since Baja. If our employers didn’t think we could handle the job, then they wouldn’t have sent us.”

“They didn’t send just us,” Bokeem said, “they sent the cartels and the Somalis.”

“That was the smoke screen,” Tank Top said. “The Somalis and cartels bankrolled this whole operation, our employers let them, knowing it would all get cleaned up in the end.”

“So zero financial risk on our employers’ part,” Bokeem stated, “and zero witnesses if it all goes wrong.”

Tank Top opened his mouth then closed it, and thought about what Bokeem had just said. He started to respond again then stopped. Started, and then stopped.

“Our employers had nothing to lose,” Tank Top said finally. “We could fail and it makes no difference.”

“We could fail and it makes all the difference,” Bokeem said. “Somalis, cartels, us. The three biggest threats to Ballantine. The Somalis have had a bounty on him and his Team’s heads since day one. The cartels have as well.”

“They’ve had a bounty on the Thorne chick’s head,” Tank Top said.

“You think Ballantine didn’t know that when she was recruited?” Bokeem said. “The man misses nothing.”

“He wanted the cartels to get involved? Why?” Tank Top asked.

“I don’t know,” Bokeem said, “but how about us? The man has always been on our radar, and eventually we were going to take him down before he took us down, but this is what bothers me. His new Team. They obviously have the skills to wipe us out, so why did Ballantine have them hunt down sharks and snakes and all that other shit? Why not send them to take us out first? Then this whole mess would have been avoided.”

Tank Top thought about it then frowned deeply.

“He wanted us to find him,” Tank Top said. “The fucker set us up.”

“He wanted us to chase him,” Bokeem said, “not just find him, but chase him. Force him in a specific direction.”

“While bringing the last of his major enemies along for the ride,” Tank Top added. “The crazy fucker. Except he doesn’t know why we’re really here.”

“I think he does,” Bokeem sighed. “I think the fucking asshole wanted everything to happen exactly how it has happened from day one.”

“Seriously? Why?” Tank Top asked.

“You said it,” Bokeem replied, “he wanted the last of his major enemies all in one place.”

“No, no, that’s what our employers wanted,” Tank Top replied.

“Who are our employers, really?” Bokeem asked. “We’ve never met them in person.”

That one Tank Top didn’t have an answer or counter argument for.

***

All the briefing room’s video monitors were extended from the ceiling and actively streaming different views and conversations on the B3. Ballantine switched his attention from one to the other while he changed the audio feed in the com in his ear.

The galley mess and the conversation still going on with Gunnar, Darren, Dr. Morganton, and Thorne. Kinsey walked into view, shrugging her shoulders and Ballantine didn’t need the audio to know what she was about to tell them.

A view of the crow’s nest where Shane and Lucy had just finished another joint, and were busy playing Twenty Questions while they kept close watch on the men on deck.

Darby sitting in the shade of the superstructure, watching two men she had once fought side by side with. Ballantine smiled as he saw Darby’s middle finger extend surreptitiously while her hand rested on her thigh. He had no doubt she knew he was watching her.

The Toyshop and his industrious elves- Pissy, Perky, and Mute. They were all busy working on projects he had just given them, especially Ingrid, who wanted to earn his trust back so badly. He did feel bad for what he put her through.

The engine room and Cougher. The poor guy looked so stressed out as he hurried from instrument reading to instrument reading. Ballantine knew the engines couldn’t handle too much more of the strain of their modifications, but he had confidence they’d hold out long enough to get them where they needed to go.

That brought him to the bridge.

“Captain Lake?” Ballantine asked over the com.

“What do you want, Ballantine?” Lake asked.

“Just checking on our ETA,” Ballantine replied.

“We’re on schedule,” Lake said. “Should be approaching the coordinates in less than an hour. Care to tell me what I’m looking for?”

“How do you mean?” Ballantine asked.

“You aren’t just sending us into the middle of nowhere,” Lake replied. “There’s something important at these coordinates.”

“
I
a
m
sending us into the middle of nowhere,” Ballantine said. “That is the point, and don’t worry, Captain, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Great,” Lake grumbled.

“Call me as soon as you know what I mean,” Ballantine said.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that,” Lake said. “Now get out of my ear.”

“Gladly,” Ballantine replied as he switched his view to monitor that showed nothing but the murky deep. “Come on. Where are you?”

He pressed a button and a sonar ping rang out in his ear.

Slowly, then faster and faster, the shape of the shark emerged from the murk. Ballantine grinned and checked the readings, then did some quick calculations in his head. While he calculated, the shark grew closer and closer until its jaws opened wide and the remote camera was swallowed whole.

“Well, this just got fascinating,” Ballantine said as he watched the camera make its way through the insides of the shark. “Unfortunately, I do not have time for this.”

Ballantine switched back to the view of Lake. “Captain Lake? Do you see anything on the sonar?”

“Not a thing,” Lake said, “which is weird. Shouldn’t I see at least something? Even if it is smaller fish?”

“Not this close to our destination,” Ballantine said. “The waters around this area tend to stay clear of sea life. It’s in their best interest.”

“Comforting,” Lake smirked.

Ballantine stood and stretched as he watched Lake with amusement. The captain went to reach for a bottle of beer by the wheel and accidentally knocked it over, sending it falling to the floor where it shattered, spilling beer and glass everywhere.

“Not to worry, Captain,” Ballantine said. “I am heading in your direction right now. I’ll bring some towels and a fresh beer for you.”

Lake visibly stiffened.

“Are you fucking watching me?” he asked.

“See you shortly,” Ballantine laughed as he killed the feeds to all the monitors and sent them back up to nest in the ceiling of the briefing room.

***

“Oh...hello, everyone,” Ballantine said as he stepped onto the bridge with a roll of paper towels in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other. “Looks like I should have brought more beer.”

“Marty told me you were watching him up here,” Darren said as he stood by the captain. Kinsey, Thorne, Gunnar, and Dr. Morganton stood behind him. “Any reason why you’re spying on our captain?”

“I get bored,” Ballantine replied as he set the towels and beers aside. “I hate being bored.”

Lake looked at the beer and snapped his fingers. “I still need a fresh one.”

“Right, of course,” Ballantine said as he popped open a bottle and handed it to Lake. “My apologies.”

“Endgame,” Thorne said, “now.”

“No,” Ballantine responded.

“No?” Thorne asked. “Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s not time,” Ballantine shrugged.

“Time for what?” Thorne asked.

“Time for the endgame,” Ballantine sighed. “Commander, the entire point of an endgame is that it isn’t revealed until the very end. It’s in the very name. End and game. If you point out your endgame before the end, then it’s just a boring, old game, and as I just stated, I don’t like being bored.”

“I don’t like having information withheld from me,” Thorne said. “One of us is about to be disappointed.”

“That would be you,” Ballantine said, “it’s my endgame.”

“So, you admit you have an endgame beyond what you’ve told us?” Gunnar asked.

“First, as a general policy, I admit to nothing ever,” Ballantine said as he opened his own beer and took a swig. “Second, what have I told you? As far as I can remember, I haven’t really told any of you anything. A few vague references here or there, a little misdirection this way and a little misdirection that way, but when you think of it, do you even have the tiniest bit of real information as to what’s going on?”

“We know a giant shark is on our ass,” Kinsey said.

“Some of the men now on this ship were part of the first Team you had before Grendel,” Darren said.

“Maybe that ship we just blew up was the original Beowulf,” Gunnar added.

Ballantine sipped his beer again and looked at Dr. Morganton. “Anything to add?”

“No,” Dr. Morganton replied, “I’ve been busy with the technological assignments you’ve given me.”

Ballantine nodded and looked to Thorne. “Commander?”

“I know that you are running from the company because of something you’ve done,” Thorne said. “That something has already gotten Popeye killed, which is really all I need to know.”

For the first time since stepping onto the bridge, Ballantine’s ubiquitous cocksure smile faltered.

“Yes, well that was unforeseen and a true tragedy,” Ballantine said. “At no point did I intend for Popeye to be hurt or killed.”

“How about the rest of us?” Kinsey asked. “You have no problem with Team Grendel going into the water without all the information. You have no problem with us trying to take out a ship that used to be yours without giving us all the information.”

Ballantine walked forward until he was only an inch from Kinsey’s face.

“You are right, Ms. Thorne,” Ballantine replied. “I have no problem with any of that, because it is your job to do all of those things and without question. You are an elite tactical Team of highly trained operators. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up and you know what you could get into every time you go on a mission. I regret Popeye’s death because he was a boatswain, not an operator. There was no expectation of death for him, but for you? Always.”

“Back off, Ballantine,” Darren said.

“I don’t think Ms. Thorne needs you to protect or defend her,” Ballantine replied, his eyes still fixed on Kinsey, his body still only an inch away.

“I’m not protecting or defending her,” Darren replied. “I’m just being a friend to a woman I care for and asking a threat to unthreaten itself.”

“Dethreaten,” Gunnar said.

“I don’t think either of those choices are actual words,” Dr. Morganton said.

Ballantine backed off and looked pained. “You see me as a threat?”

“Well, duh,” Kinsey said, “have you ever been around you?”

“Commander?” Ballantine asked Thorne.

“You don’t threaten me, but you aren’t exactly the comforting type,” Thorne shrugged. “Not that I could give a shit.” He looked at Darren and Kinsey. “He is right. You two have been hired to be operators. If you die on a mission, it is understood that you knew the risks going in.” He switched focus to Gunnar and Dr. Morganton. “You were hired for your skills as scientists. It’s not always your job to know, or see the big picture. Sometimes, you need to focus on one detail at a time.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Ballantine said.

The fist hit him fast and hard, and Ballantine fell back against a bank of equipment. Thorne closed on him quickly, snatched the beer out of his hands and cracked the bottle against the edge of the console. He jammed the broken glass up against Ballantine’s throat, but kept it just short of slicing into the man’s skin.

“My job, Ballantine?” Thorne growled. “My jo
b
i
s
to keep everyone on my Team alive. When you withhold information from me, whether you think it is vital or not, you hamper my ability to do that. You hired me to do a job and when you then make it difficult for me to do that job because you are a secretive prick by nature, and then we have a problem.”