The Colonel's Daughter

• Title Page
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  

Copyright © 2011 Lili Tufel

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.

Tufel Media

Credits:

Cover Art: Paige Pentzke

Contact us at:
TufelMedia.com

* * * * *

"From beginning to end, I could not put it down! ... And there was a shock ending that was a total surprise!”

Kim Tomsett-Fowler

“Complicated family ties run subtly beneath the high-adrenalin action until the final ultimate complication is revealed on the very final page.” 

JT Kalnay 
Author of The Pattern and Mina's Eyes 

* * * * *

Chapter One

Mother and daughter raised their eyes to the American flag that flapped in the salty summer breeze, a beacon of freedom that marked the center of the soldiers’ graves. Holding her little girl’s hand, Jasmine lifted her blonde ponytail off the damp back of her neck. The wind carried with it a dense humidity, which was a constant in Tampa, Florida, and spread about a mixture of heat with dirt that stuck to the skin like Velcro.

Eight-year-old Samantha shielded her eyes from the midday sun and listened to her mother’s raspy voice read the memorial adjacent to the flag.

“IN LOVING MEMORY

CPL DONALD SIMCOX

US ARMY AFGHANISTAN

DEVOTED HUSBAND AND FATHER

WE LOVE YOU”

Her small hands cast a shadow over the bronze headstone where her father Cpl. Simcox, who had been killed by an IED—Improvised Explosive Device—in Afghanistan, had been laid to rest when she was only five years old.

Jasmine put her arms around her daughter and gave a tight squeeze.

“Momma,” Samantha pulled away, “What did daddy smell like?”

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “You’ve never asked that before.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore, momma.” Samantha, who had been used to routinely visiting her father’s grave, would leave drawings and other trinkets. She was convinced these would keep him company during the lonely days and nights of the cemetery, until her next visit.

“You’re right, Sam you’re not a baby anymore. I have to start getting used to that.” Jasmine knelt down to arrange a bouquet of yellow tulips. “It’s been so long. I don’t think I remember anymore.” She watched Samantha place a colorful plastic pinwheel into the grass above the headstone.

Samantha, the gifted third grader and a definite tomboy, attached a handwritten card to the pinwheel.

Dear Dad,

I miss you. When can I see you again? Mommy says you are always watching over me. My coach gave me the game ball. I want you to have it.

I love you,

Samantha

Next to the spinning wheel, she positioned her game winning baseball and went about diligently helping her mother fill the bronze vase with tulips.

A security officer, who had been driving around the cemetery in a golf cart, noticed mother and daughter walking across a shaded path. He parked his vehicle cutting off their exit path and stared at Jasmine’s shapely walk. “Are you two alright?”

“We’re fine, thank you.” Gripping her car keys, Jasmine gave a tight-lipped smile.

“My dad is buried here.” Samantha interjected.

“Oh yeah?” Resting an elbow on the undersized steering wheel, he stroked his wooly mustache. “I saw you two by the uh…soldier’s memorial.” He looked down at Samantha, “Was your dad a soldier?”

Jasmine offered a quick answer, “Yes he was,” then clutched her daughter’s hand and took a step back.

“Hey you ladies want to hop on the back? I can give you a lift to your car.”

“No thanks, my car is right around the corner.”

“Oh yeah?” He removed his uniform cap and scratched his scalp. “You know…That’s where they’re building a memorial to commemorate the POW’s. Right by your car over there,” he pointed.

Jasmine gave the construction site a quick look. “Well I’m glad that the prisoners of war will be honored here with a memorial. That really is wonderful.” She looked at his desperate eyes and cleared her dry throat, “If you’ll excuse us, we really have to get home.”

“So what’s your daddy’s name?” He looked at Samantha. “So I can make sure he’s well protected until your next visit?”

“Donald Simcox,” the ingénue girl spoke swiftly. “But my mom doesn’t have his last name, her last name is Johnston.”

Jasmine tugged her hand and scolded, “There you go giving away too much information. Haven’t I told you about that before?”

“But he’s a policeman momma.”

“It’s alright ma’am. I should get going anyway.” He gave the eight-year-old a wink. He paused and looked at Jasmine curiously. “Any relation to the kidnapped Colonel who’s been all over the news? Colonel James Johnston?”

Jasmine, pulling her daughter along, proceeded to walk around the obstructing golf cart. “No, no relation to that poor Colonel, not that I know of.”

He watched them walk away. “You ladies have a good afternoon,” he called out while putting his uniform cap on his balding head.

* * * * *

Narrow propeller blades tore through an opaque sky and with the guttural purr of a carnivore came to a halt in mid air. The Chinook helicopter hovered over a remote Afghan village and inside the bird, Special Forces soldiers prepared for their insertion.

“Alright men, it’s going to be in and out.” Captain Santos stood by the door gunner. “The Colonel’s been like a father to all of us. No question about it, he would be putting his life on the line if it was us out there. It’s time to reacquire the old Colonel. Extract the hostage and bring him home.”

“Security teams are in position, Captain.” Shouting over the roaring propeller was Staff Sgt. Greenwood, a dedicated crew chief.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Lieutenant Brian Star grabbed a thick woolen rope. “The butter bar and his men managed to secure the place.” He cocked his head for a bird’s eye view.

“Something’s not right.” Captain Santos put an ear to the wind. “It sounds dangerous down there.”

“I don’t hear anything, Captain.” Dallas adjusted his gloves and gripped the rope.

“Exactly, I don’t like the quiet.”

Capt. Javier “Javi” Santos and Lt. Brian “Dallas” Star fast roped from the aircraft. A rocket fired from a rooftop, impacted twenty feet from the hoisted soldiers with a reverberating boom. Erupting gunfire from a nearby cave lit up the sky.

Staff Sgt. Greenwood bellowed over the radio, “I’m opening the belly hatch and deploying the rope ladder Captain,” as Gatling guns discharging their rapid-fire and resonated over the frequency.

“Negative, Sergeant. We’re going in. There’s no way we’re leaving the Colonel behind.” Javi ran for cover behind a two story mud-walled building.

Dallas followed. “I’m right behind ya Capt’n.”

Sprinting towards the road, Javi suddenly dove and rolled on the ground, as shots were fired in his direction. He found cover behind a parked car, ducking to avoid broken glass from a relentless shooter.

“Sniper at your ten o’clock, Captain.” Dallas scraped his back against the mud wall.

“Dallas, go east around the building. I’ll draw him out. We’ll flank him.”

“Yes sir.” His finger steady on the trigger, Dallas trotted around the building scrutinizing every aperture with his Marksman Rifle.

Javi shot several rounds raising the barrel slightly above the trunk of the parked car. His voice flickered over the radio. “Dallas, do you see him?”

“Yes, I spotted the nest. Draw him back out, draw him back out.” Dallas pressed one eye to his night vision scope. With expert marksmanship and controlled breathing, he calculated the trajectory of his bullet. After squeezing the trigger, he watched his target plummet. He exhaled, “Got him,” in a celebratory whisper. Immediately putting a hand to the radio headset he announced, “All clear Captain.”

Javi ran straight up the gravel road. “I’m heading north towards the Intel location. I can see the building from here. Follow me along the perimeter.”

“On my way, sir.” Dallas suddenly pivoted in the direction of oncoming footsteps as two frenzied soldiers approached.

“Specialist Evan Daniels and Private Jason Lewis, we’re the only ones left, sir.”