The Maverick Experiment (4 page)

Saturday, January 9
Everglades, Florida
Drug Camp
0713 Hrs

Derek woke as light pierced through the bamboo walls of his cell. He heard one more gunshot before he had passed out—as many as three of his men were dead.

All he could think of were the families of Grimes and the other teammates who had been executed the night before. It was a sickening feeling. Grimes had a young wife and two adorable kids who would now be fatherless. All because a training op had gone horribly wrong.

Grimes had told the team he had served in both Iraq and Afghanistan several times and had dodged death on more than one occasion. Derek knew that, much like Heidi, Grimes's wife had pushed hard for him to return home. Some of the others were in similar positions: winding down their ops careers, but unable to pass up an opportunity to get some real work done. Randy and Miller, like many of the men in the intelligence community, had been divorced, but both had children.

It was all a damned shame. The team members' deaths were tragic, and no family deserved to get the word theirs would soon receive about their fathers and husbands.

Derek's thoughts were interrupted as his cell door was pulled open. Two guards grabbed him and pulled him across the courtyard again, this time into a more finished-looking building. They dragged him into a windowless room that
contained two chairs and a beaten-up table. The guards jammed him into a chair and tied him down, then left the room. Barely a moment had passed before the door opened and in walked the American he had seen the night before.

The man walked right up to Derek and punched him in the face. Blood ran instantly from Derek's nose into his mouth. He spit some out and stared at the man.

“What are you doing here?” screamed the man.

Derek said nothing.

“You are fucking up my operation. Do you understand that? Are you DEA? Huh?”

The man punched him again. Derek's head whipped to the side.

“This is my land!”

Derek lifted his head and spoke. “Last time I checked, the Everglades belonged to the state of Florida. Do you know where you are, asshole? This isn't fucking Colombia. Open your eyes.”

“A smart-ass. I like that. This should be fun.”

The man pulled out a knife and approached Derek. “You see, this is my land because I say it is, and I don't care if you are DEA, FBI, or the fucking CIA. If anyone wants to say otherwise, then I will introduce them to my army.”

Derek laughed. “Your army? You call this an army? Forty Mexicans?” He laughed even harder and spit some of his blood to clear his mouth.

The man circled Derek and stood behind him, knife drawn. He placed the knife on Derek's neck and returned to his questions. “Now, I will ask again. Why are you here? Who do you work for?”

“Fuck you. And you know what? You are a shitty interrogator. You shouldn't string questions together. Which question do you want me to answer: Why I am here or who do I work for? You're fucking embarrassing yourself.”

The man punched Derek in the back of the head and returned his knife to Derek's throat. “This isn't the time to be fooling around, my friend. You stumbled into something you shouldn't have. I killed three of your men, and I'll kill the other one if you don't tell me what you are doing here.”

“How do you know they are my men, asshole? Answer that.”

“Your friend told me before I killed him. Now, you better start answering questions, or I might just have to kill you.”

A knock on the door interrupted the interrogation.

“What is it?” yelled the man.

A guard entered. “I'm sorry to interrupt, sir, but the plane is about to land.”

“How long?”

“Five minutes.”

The man stood up straight, retracted his knife, and walked toward the door. “I will be back for you, friend. Take him back to his cell.”

Saturday, January 16
Everglades, Florida
Maverick Training Facility
0930 Hrs

The team sat in the conference room, waiting for Carlisle and Derek. It had been an exhausting eight-day SERE exercise for the team, but everyone had made it through.

Derek and Carlisle entered the room. Derek was pleased to see his teammates sitting there in one piece. Though the exercise had been rough, it had become an instant rapport and bonding experience for the team, as SERE exercises often were. The men had received fewer than ten hours of sleep over the course of the exercise and had eaten just a few bowls of rice and beans. The beatings had been harsh, but most were within training regulations. The key point was that all of the men had survived and passed the training. No one had been shot and
killed, and, even more crucially, no one had divulged an ounce of critical mission information. The mock deaths had all been a ruse to see if the others, when isolated, would talk out of fear, hoping to save their own lives.

Carlisle broke the silence as the men sipped their coffee. “Good morning, men. Great job out there last week. You not only completed your jump training, but you passed a physically and emotionally draining team exercise. I am glad to see no one was eaten by an alligator. If it makes you feel any better, we do try our best to keep that training area clear … at least of the really big ones. At any rate, congratulations. You guys are done with training, and now that we know we can trust you—and there wasn't any doubt—you are ready to do what you were hired to do: solve problems for the United States government. You guys are special, and in many ways, you are our only option. When more conventional approaches fail, we will call on you. There isn't a Special Operations team or Special Missions Unit around that will have the flexibility you do. The Maverick Program is the way of the future, the way to keep people safe and make the enemies start to disappear. But remember, you don't exist, and thus you can't speak of this or ever be compromised on a mission. This little experiment of ours will end horribly if you guys fail. No pressure, though. I'll give you guys some time to chat.”

Carlisle stepped out for a moment to give Derek some time with his men. The men hooted and hollered for a second before Derek silenced them with a whistle.

“Hey guys, listen up. First off, awesome job this past week. We all hung in there and did what we were supposed to do. Great job. I am sure these guys will test us again and again,
though, so let's always stay on our toes and work as a team. We were selected for this group for a reason; let's continue to show them why.

“Now, we are all professionals, so I know you can remember most of this stuff. We are going to launch from here early next Sunday; we've got our first assignment. I'll give you the details when you return, and I suggest getting back here Saturday morning. When we're done here, everyone is clear to go back home and spend a few days with family. Soak it up, because the one thing I will tell you about the assignment is it has no set length. We may be there a few days or a few months, I honestly don't know.

“There are few details I do know at this point. At home, the story is this: You are a defense contractor working with the Department of Defense. More specifically, your job is to assess training requirements and courses for soldiers and DoD civilians serving abroad. The job can and will take you anywhere US personnel are serving. Same as always, deflect questions and bore the hell out of anyone who gets nosy. The company is Global Defense Solutions Inc., just like Carlisle told you. It is not a name that will come up in any online searches. It's just a name for us and a way to get paid. Cool?”

The men nodded.

“Alright, get out of here. See you in a few days.”

Tuesday, January 19
Langley, Virginia
CIA Headquarters
1045 Hrs

Jerry and Carlisle sat quietly outside the director's office, waiting. A constant flurry of assistants and messengers carried files and notes in to the director's secretary. The director, without question, had one of the most demanding and thankless jobs in America. Safeguarding the United States and its interests under orders from the president was no joke. Few people, besides the president, received more criticism than the director of the CIA.

The director sat on the seventh and top floor of the infamous CIA headquarters building. Being called to the seventh floor was a big deal. The director's office, senior leadership, and the 24/7 operations center were situated on the top floor. It was an important floor.

“Mr. Carr, the director will see you now,” said the director's secretary.

Jerry and Carlisle stood and followed her to the double doors leading into the director's office.

The director was catching up on some last-minute reading as Jerry and Carlisle entered.

The director of the CIA, Roger Covington, was a fit individual in his mid-sixties, having remained in great shape from his previous military assignments. He had a stern and rigid appearance, but his warm smile lit up the room. Bags under his eyes were evidence of sleepless nights; constant interrogations from Congress and the media had taken their toll. It was clear that the job was beginning to wear on the director, and signs of accelerated aging were beginning to show, as they often did on men in such positions. Being the director of the CIA could make anyone go gray.

“Gentlemen, welcome. Have a seat. Carlisle, how the hell have you been? It's been way too long.”

“Very good, sir. Thank you for asking, and yes, it has been too long.”

The director removed his reading glasses and leaned back in his chair. “So, Jerry, tell me, how are things going with Maverick?”

“Things are going better than expected, sir. We are set to deploy the men Sunday.”

“Sunday? That's phenomenal. Must have been some top-notch recruiting.”

“Carlisle did a wonderful job, sir. We have a solid group of men, all of them trained and very capable. They all did great working together down south and did particularly well during the SERE exercise.”

“No shit? That's fantastic! I remember our SERE course. What a pain in the ass that was, huh? Seems like just yesterday.”

“What's it been … twenty years?” Carlisle said.

Jerry Carr nodded. “Yep. Our unit disbanded twenty years ago. It was a different time when the three of us were out saving the world.”

“Damn straight,” the director said. “Rules were a little different then, weren't they. ‘You can't do that’ really meant ‘Get it done, or it's your ass.’ ”

“Too bad things have changed so much,” Carlisle said.

The director nodded. “Well, between the damned media and this liberal Congress, the mission's getting more challenging by the hour. But the blowback …”

“You do a damned good job, sir,” Carlisle said.

“Well, thanks. But you and Jerry didn't come here to pump sunshine up my skirt. About Maverick: Are we still good in terms of security? These guys are quiet, right?”

“They're professionals, sir. I know we won't have any problems.”

“Good, because as you both know, if this thing gets out, we will go down hard. The agency will take a huge hit, and the president will take an even bigger hit. We'll all likely get sentenced for some ridiculous charge and go to the cinder block Hilton. But American forces and our people will be safer with this group out and about, and that's what I'm concerned with. How are the men responding to Mr. …” The director fumbled through his notes to find the right name. “Mr. Stevens. Derek Stevens. He's younger, but in charge, if I am not mistaken.”

“Correct, sir,” Jerry said. “Well, Carlisle is actually running point on the program, and Derek answers to him, but in terms of field decisions, he is the group lead.”

“Tell me a little bit about him.”

“I think we found a diamond in the rough with this one, sir. He is less trained than most in the unit, but maybe more capable, if that makes any sense …”

The director nodded in understanding.

Carr continued, “He is one of those rare guys you come across who just has it. He was an interrogator and source operator in a tactical intel unit created by the secretary of defense a few years ago. They worked exclusively with SEAL Team Six and Delta Force, sir. This guy has great experience. Everything he has done has been in the vein of our program, hush-hush and extremely compartmentalized.”

“Good. I already like this guy. And do the men seem to respect him?”

“Absolutely, sir. The whole group is a good fit thus far.”

“OK, well, let's get them in and out fast. Boots in and boots out; the less time on the ground, the better. Carlisle, how are things going down in Florida? Is the site working out?”

“Yes sir, it is. We have plenty of upgrades and additions that will be required soon, but all in all, things are good.”

“Well, you let me know what these guys need, and I'll get it for them. I don't want the site becoming too big down there, though. Right now, it's simple looking enough that an overhead shot doesn't raise too many questions. We can squelch any rumors that come out now. Besides, most will think military first, anyways.”

“We can't have some pimply kid seeing anything on Google Earth that makes someone think about the CIA, that's for sure,” Carr said. “The last thing we want is a bunch of reporters combing the Everglades for the new CIA black site; the media will think it's Rendition all over again.”

“Correct. We certainly cannot afford that,” the director said. “OK, well, I hate to be brief, but I have several other meetings, as you can imagine. I will look forward to chatting and getting updates this weekend when the team deploys.”

Tuesday, January 19
Jacksonville, Florida
Stevens Residence
1059 Hrs

Derek rolled over and hugged Heidi. The couple had been up late, catching up on spousal activities. Heidi's eyes opened as Derek kissed her shoulder.

“Good morning.”

She stretched as he returned to his side of the bed and watched her with a huge grin.

“Well don't we seem happy this morning? Did you sleep OK?”

“Not too bad. I almost woke you up again around three-thirty.”

Derek spent enough time away that when he was home, the couple often found themselves awake in the middle of the night, enjoying intimate moments. He had woken Heidi at one-fifteen and two-thirty but couldn't muster up the energy to continue when he had tossed and turned at three-thirty that morning.

“Should I make us some coffee?” he asked.

“Mmm. Yes, that would be good.”

Derek pulled away the sheets and walked, still naked, to the kitchen.

“Aren't you going to put some clothes on?”

“Nope.”

Heidi laughed and remained under the covers. “You kill me. So, honey?” She waited as she heard clutter from the kitchen.

“Baby, where do we keep the extra coffee? This bag is gone.”

“It's in the pantry above the cereal. Honey?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Do you know how long you will be gone yet?”

After a few seconds, Derek appeared in the doorway.

“No. I don't. I think I will be back in a week or two, tops.”