Operation (6 page)

“Understood,” Jonsey said, “So what are we waiting for. Let’s rock and roll…” and then added, “Can someone please get these fucking handcuffs off. They’re chafing my tender skin.”

 *****

In less then an hour, Jonsey was dressed in standard camouflage issue with his standard equipment: a large knife and his Glock. He liked to keep things simple. Feeling in a good mood, he decided to spoil himself by also requesting a set of night vision binoculars. Ready to go, he decided to scope out the now deserted building.

It was simple cinderblock construction consisting of four rooms; each room containing one window. There were two doors leading to the outside, one at each end of the building. A ladder allowed access to the attic as well as the flat roof. Jonsey decided he would remain on the roof because it was the easiest area to defend from, as well as offering escape if he should need it.

From the roof, he surveyed the area surrounding the building. He couldn’t see much because of the darkness, since there were no ambient light sources. The lights that had been on when he arrived were now extinguished. He remembered seeing a lot of brush when he arrived only an hour or so ago. People could hide in the brush.

None of that really mattered because even if someone did make it into the building, they weren’t going to be alive for long. Jonsey had decided that even though he wasn’t supposed to kill anyone, he would do it anyway. It would be…an accident.

Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke…

Using the night vision binoculars, he began a methodical sweep of the area. He peered through the lenses, which cast a greenish glow to the objects that retained heat from the day. If there were any human beings out there, he would find them. He would cover every square inch of the area around the building looking for telltale signs of approaching forces. If they were coming, he would find them.

It was during this time that Jonsey allowed his mind to drift in the background while his eyes, along with his skills, worked in the foreground. Surveillance could be very boring, but Jonsey had managed to tame the boredom by thinking about things. He decided to think about the lieutenant he had killed. As he dipped into the image, he felt a smile form on his lips along with an erection in his groin area.

*****

Several months ago, Jonsey was inserted into one of the SEAL units by General Stone to correct a problem. A platoon commander had ‘issues’ with a diversion of funding from his own team in order to support the Team of Darkness operation. The lieutenant tried to get answers as to the reason for the diversion of funds through his chain of command, but his lack of obtaining answers to his questions about the operation only made him more determined to cause a problem. Apparently the young lieutenant indicated that he would find answers to the questions even if it meant going public with his concerns for his own team’s safety because of some other operation. Jonsey’s mission was to take care of the problem.  

Jonsey found the lieutenant at the end of the obstacle course, bent over and breathing hard from just finishing. The timing was perfect. Every time the lieutenant and his platoon ran the course, the lieutenant would remain behind and run another by himself. He had just finished and was pretty worn out. Not much of a challenge, Jonsey thought, but then there weren’t many these days—not real challenges anyway.

“Hey, LT,” Jonsey said as he walked up to within a few inches of him. “What the hell is your problem?”

The lieutenant looked up with a look of surprise on his face at the language Jonsey had used. “What did you say, Jonsey?”

“I said, what the hell is your problem? I hear you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Back off, Jonsey, or I’ll put your ass on report. You got that?”

“Shit, should I be worried…sir? I think not. I’m not the kind of guy that goes on report, if you know what I mean. No, sir. I’m a problem-solving kind of guy and I’m here to solve a problem—you. You’ve pissed off the wrong people this time—sir.”

“That affair is none of your business.

“You should have kept your mouth shut—sir.”

“What—”

Jonsey struck with lightening speed, grasping the lieutenant by the head and twisting it cleanly, with an audible crack of the lieutenant’s neck. Next, Jonsey carried the body to an area of the obstacle course where there were several horizontal telephone poles about waist high and five to six feet apart. Running this section of the course, the men hurtled over the poles quickly. A slip of the foot could lead to serious injury—a serious head or neck injury.

He laid out the lieutenant to make it appear that that was what had happened. An accident—the overly ambitious lieutenant had ran the course one time too many and fatigued, slipped and broke his neck. Shit happens.

It was an almost perfect murder.

Except for the new, high-tech, almost invisible surveillance cameras. Jonsey had not been warned of the surveillance cameras being tested on the course. When the surveillance units reviewed the tapes, Jonsey was arrested, tried, and convicted by court martial, all in record time.

Jonsey knew
they
wouldn’t let him die. Recognized early in his career for his abilities, he had become a problem solver and over the years he had solved many problems for the general and associates. He knew too much and if he had no choice, he would spill it all to save his own ass—he knew that as well as the general did. It was only a matter of time before he was transferred to somewhere he would never arrive at. He would disappear along with his secrets if he wasn’t careful—but he was always careful.  

Chapter Three

Two hours later, Jonsey had still discovered nothing. His arms were tired from holding the binoculars up. He decided that the men coming for him were either very good or not in the area yet. Either way, he had had enough waiting. He would do as suggested and go on the offensive. Time to have some fun. It was what Jonsey lived for: the hunt.

He decided not to exit the building from any of the doors or windows, just in case someone was waiting for him. Perhaps a sniper had snuck into range or maybe explosive devices were on the doors or windows. Instead, he lowered a rope and scaled down the side of the building effortlessly. Feeling the earth under his feet, he made his way to the nearest brush outcropping and again scanned the area before moving out. Still he saw nothing. It was time for him to do his own reconnaissance.

Jonsey loved this part. He would slither and crawl through the brush like a snake on the hunt for a mouse. Slow and methodical, silent as the night, Jonsey became the night itself. Examining everything around him as he moved, every one of his senses heightened to detect any change around or near him. The night belonged to him: it accentuated his abilities to sneak up undetected on targets. Such perfection on his part only aroused him further as he prepared for the finale. He would embrace the look of surprise on their faces and in their bodies, followed by the look when he slit their throats, feeling their warm blood spill onto his hands. He would watch their eyes as the life in them slowly oozed out, along with the blood from their bodies. The blood had an intoxicating smell to him. It was as poignant as the smell of cheap perfume on a cheap whore—and there had been many of those. Many that he had killed as he climaxed, merging the two smells together and driving him to heights of intense pleasure. There was a certain smell to death, a unique odor that accompanied the loss of life.  

Death. He smelled it before he saw it, his body tensing as he moved forward. About twenty yards away, he found the body. He pressed his hand against what remained of the man’s neck: he was dead, but not long dead—the body was still slightly warm. His eyes scanned the rest of his body and he assumed the dead man was one of the SEALs sent in to get him. Even though he would have killed the man without a second thought, the fact remained that someone else had done the job and that alarmed him.

He examined the body closely. The throat had been slashed by what he guessed was a very ragged edge knife because the wound was irregularly shaped, giving it an almost torn appearance. Not cleanly cut, as he would have done with his own knife had he discovered this man; sloppy, but good enough to get the job done. Something bothered him about it. He re-examined the body one more time to see if he had missed anything. The lack of light made it difficult. He did not look directly at the body so that his peripheral vision could pick up some features, perhaps something his direct vision had missed. After a few seconds, it did.

 Jonsey’s mind, as warped and perverted as it was, was very good at remembering details. The man’s face was familiar as one he had seen before: only hours ago. He had been one of the petty officers inside the van that had transported him from the Naval Station brig this night. The man hadn’t said anything during the trip, but he had been there.

Interesting…

Jonsey didn’t really give a shit about the fact that the man was dead. The fact that the general had said that there wasn’t supposed to be any killing did bother him. Had there been a change to the plan? An accident? Or was he being set up? The first two he could deal with, but the last set off all his self-preservation alarms.

First rule: cover your back. Kill everyone who knows about the op
.  

Had the general decided that it was time for him to retire? Had this man been killed by mistake? Had someone mistaken this man for him? It was possible, but not likely.

So, there was another hunter. Someone else is playing the game here tonight as well. How interesting…

In the next thirty minutes, he found three more bodies: the rest of the team that had picked him up at the brig. The situation became more interesting by the minute.

Someone was eliminating evidence. Was he being set up as the murderer? Deranged killer kills escort team while being transported. Convincing and tidy: ties up all the loose ends. The general would pay for this with his life.

He was being set-up and he didn’t like it. Anger began to well up inside of him, but he chased it away immediately. If he were going to get through the night, he would have to be better than those that were coming for him.

Be analytical, figure out your enemy, find their weakness, exploit it and eliminate them. If there was not enough information, then evade.

All of the men were killed the same way: throats cut, without firing a shot or even appearing to have offered resistance, weapons still in their holsters. Whoever had killed them had done it in complete surprise and very quickly. They were obviously very good at what they did. The question was: were they as good as he was? It was obvious that whoever was doing this had quite a bit of talent. Eliminating four Navy SEALs without revealing their presence was no small task. He would have to be cautious. This was a highly trained killer.

He thought about options. He could stay out here and see if he could find the killer. But for how long? He looked at the horizon and estimated that there was maybe two and a half hours of darkness left. If he hadn’t removed the threat by then, he would become vulnerable to aerial surveillance and regular forces in the daylight. He didn’t like that option. He could make his way to the beach and swim over to other sections of Norfolk or Virginia Beach, but while crossing the beach he would make a nice target. He could return to the house and pretend to get sloppy and somehow announce his arrival. It wouldn’t take much and if the killer wanted him that bad, he would come to him there and Jonsey would be ready for him. Eliminate the risk, and he could then figure out how to evade the regular forces that would come later, that was the best option.

When he neared the building, he circled it looking for any signs of the assassin or indications that he had been here already. Using a low light emitting device, he searched for signs in the dirt, footsteps or any form of disturbance to the grass. He inspected the doors and windows for any tampering. Everything looked as he had left it.

Satisfied that it would be safe to enter, he did what he would never normally do—he broke one of the windows. He didn’t do it clumsily, for that would have made it too obvious that he was trying to draw attention to himself. The glass breaking was just loud enough that a sharp ear would detect it. He would have heard it if he were doing the hunting, so he assumed his adversary would do the same.

He opened the window and prepared to enter the building. His plan was to return to the roof: giving him the advantage of seeing his enemy approach, as well as only allowing one way to defend against if attacked. He entered through the window and made his way to the ladder. As he placed his first foot on the lowest rung to begin his ascent, he heard a sound. He instinctively drew his pistol and then immediately froze.

There were voices, low and faint, coming from one of the other rooms. He moved silently in the direction of the noise. As he neared the source of the voices, they became clearer. Although the sound was muffled, he was able to identify two voices, both female and sounding young. Light also drifted out from the room, and he immediately recognized the characteristic green of a chemical light: standard military issue, as well as commercially available. Checking his weapon, he entered the room prepared to fire.

He quickly and quietly entered room and swiftly scanned the area. Details flooded his thoughts as his mantra of procedure guided him through the steps: access the danger, neutralize the risk and secure the area. There were two young girls: one appeared to be a teenager, the other younger. They sat quietly in the center of the room and just stared at him. There was no one else. He saw no visible weapons. The light hung from a string in front of the one window, giving the room an eerie green slimy appearance.

Once he decided the room was secure, he began to think about his discovery. The first thought that came to him was that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. There was no way these two should be here, but they were. They were here and he didn’t have time for this.