Elite Metal-ARE-epub (2 page)

“You send a grenade. Gren…aid. You get it?”

“Yeah, but it was horrible.” Titanium chuckled.

“Whatever. You’re totally going to be telling your girl that joke the next time you’re home. Figured I’d have something to lighten our mood before we run into enemy territory half-cocked and more than mostly blind.”

“I take it then there are no other
good
questions.” Steele lifted his pack and clipped it in place. He paused to look each of the other men in the eye as they prepared to disappear, settling on Chrome. “I know you didn’t have a choice, bringing your team in for this, but I know you’d have stepped up no matter the circumstances. I would have done the same.”

Chrome clenched his teeth together so hard Steele could see his jaw flex in the near dark. He finally relaxed. “I trust you, asshole. You know I got your back.”

“See ya on the other side, gentlemen.” He held up his fist. “Oorah.”

“Oorah,” the two replied in stereo.

The three men disappeared into the fog, with each man’s team following their commander into the darkness. Forty-five minutes later, Steele manned his position in a two-feet deep snow bank a hundred yards out from the entrance of the shipyard. The container ship awaiting its illegal payload bobbed on the Moscow River another three-hundred-feet to his left. On the ship all seemed quiet with not a soul in sight.

Several of the men were busy decorating the dock for company.

He pressed the communicator on his headset and eyed the tugboat knocking into the dock down river. “Chrome, come in. What’s your status?”

“Feed’s live and we’re rolling tape,” Chrome replied from the tug’s interior. “Almost there. A few more minutes and we’ll be clear.”

“Merc what’s happening up in the canopy?

“No activity on either road leading into the dock. Copper’s got a clear shot of both the ship’s deck and the loading ramp.”

“The deck is ugly. Loading ramp is boring. Why is it you people never take me anywhere pretty?” Copper’s voice, cool and professional as she was, held a note of mischief.

“Copy that, pretty lady. I’ll make it up to you later. Clear the comms before the commander kicks your ass.” Tungsten’s dry humor fit. The team keeping tags on each other, they could play but they never forgot the job.

Steele gave them another beat. “And the ship itself?”

Uranium answered. “Fifteen heat signatures on board. All below deck it looks like.”

“Copy.” He scanned the area again. “Titanium, come in. Fifteen, repeat one-five souls on board.”

“Got it. Gold and I are in position.”

Steele settled into his crouch and prepared to wait for their target. His men and the other team members could do nothing now but wait.

Chrome’s voice filled the line. “Friendly coming in on your three, Steele.”

Although the man was covered from head to toe in gray camo and a thermal mask, Steele recognized those laughing blue eyes.

“Shit,” Steele cursed with a shake of his head. “How the hell’d you get babysitting duty?”

“Ha,” the Marine laughed and settled himself on his belly by Steele’s side. “You’re surprised?” Zinc’s brow’s rose and disappeared under his mask. “Like I’d allow anyone else to cover you?”

“Damn straight, my brother.”

“Just like old times, huh? Hunting with our dads?”

“Right,” Steele chuckled. “Deer blind in Northern California, container ship in butt-freezing Russia. Exactly the same.”

“Hard ass.”

“That’s Commander Hard Ass to you, jarhead.”

“Oorah, Commander.”

For the next several minutes, all was quite except for the occasional cry of a gull or the click of a radio when another team member called in an update. Every few seconds, Steele wriggled the fingers of his shooting hand and tried to keep the circulation flowing. The heat retaining gloves his team had been promised were still held up in military red tape and one of the many items on a long list of “we’re doing what we can, but funds are tight” necessities. It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if the fucking politicians spouting the party line were on the beaches of Hawaii right at that moment.

“So,” Zinc sighed as the sky started to lighten from inky back to a deep smoky purple.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose and froze into place when Zinc remained quiet. Steele turned to stare until the man spat out what he obviously wanted to say.

Zinc shook his head and Steele knew that under the mask was his friend’s trademark sheepish grin that made many a woman ready to bear his children.

“I’m getting married, bro.”

Shit. The “M” word. Which went hand in hand with the “C” word. Commitment. What was his friend thinking tying his life to another when Uncle Sam owned his ass?

“Ally?” he asked.

“Of course, Ally.” Zinc punched him on the arm.

“I had a feeling you’d be saying this one of these days soon.”

“Yeah, right. I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I knew you two were getting serious when you started talking about not re-upping next year.”

“You think you’re so smart.”

“I know I’m smart. I’m so smart that I bet you this is your last mission. She’ll have you stateside in less than a month.”

“Nah, Ally knows my team comes first. Besides, you’re just jealous because I’ll have someone to come home to. Not like those chicks you bang in those freaky clubs you go to.”

Him? Jealous? Like he’d trade in a line of beautiful women eager for the bite of his whip and gone before dawn for a one-and-only, day-after-day-woman who either worried if he’d come home alive or bitched at him to take out the trash. Never.

Steele shook his head at the ridiculous notion. “Hundred bucks says you’re wrong. Less than a month.”

“You want to make a bet on that? Jesus, you never change do you,” he said with a shake of his head. He glanced away, and when he looked back, his gaze was dead serious. “You’ll be my best man?”

It took him all of a second to answer. “Fuck yeah. Like that’s even a question.”

Just because Steele believed the man had taken one too many mortar shells to the head thinking he could be in recon and married didn’t mean he wouldn’t be there to support his best friend. They were fucking brothers. He loved him like he was blood. Family. Not only that, they were Marines. Brothers to the end. That was their creed.

“Cool.” Zinc nodded.

Oorah!

“Look alive, folks,” Tungsten’s voice came across his earpiece. “Target spotted and rolling in.”

The rumble of a diesel engine cut through the morning tranquility like a drum major announcing the arrival of a marching band. Two black SUVs rolled through the gates and toward the docks with a large tanker truck taking up the rear.

“It’s time to rock and roll boys.” Steele whispered into his headset. “Adamantium. You ready to scramble their comm?”

“Ready with the red button of death on your signal.”

Several men dressed in black fatigues climbed out of the SUV to meet the truck. A man with silver hair and a beard wearing a massive fur coat exited the vehicle and was immediately surrounded by several bodyguards.

Fifty bucks said the wannabe-czar draped in dead animal was the illusive Red Wolf. Positive identification was difficult since he continually changed his appearance to avoid capture, but judging by the level of security, this had to be their guy.

“Any sign of our UC?” Chrome whispered across the line, wondering at the same time Steele did where their undercover agent was.

A round of negatives followed.

Steele squinted through the heavy gray twilight in search of the female CIA operative who’d infiltrated her way into Red Wolf’s organization.  Her intel alerted them to the meeting. On her signal they were to make their move.

A silver Mercedes M-class pulled up and an entourage of bodyguards carrying AK-47s spilled out and escorted a Middle Eastern man with a brief case in hand from the back seat.

Amir Hossein, trader and arms negotiator for an extremist Jihadist group in Lebanon. Hell yeah. So far their intel was good.

Red Wolf greeted the man like he was a favorite relative with kisses to the cheeks before guiding the group toward the back of the tanker truck. Through the scope of his rifle, Steele saw Hossein’s eyes widened as he gazed at the truck’s cargo and his smile grew. He handed Red Wolf the briefcase and motioned for his men to drive the truck onto the ship.

And still, no sign of the female agent.

Shit. It was time to close this deal, but they needed confirmation from the UC that this was their man and their weapons before that truck made it to the ship.

“Any sign of her?” he asked.

“Negative.”

“Negative.”

“Negative,” came the response all around.

Double shit.

With Titanium prepped to storm the ship, it was Steele’s responsibility to give the order.

Indecision ripped him in two. Call off the mission and potentially allow enough uranium into the country they could level the US in one strike or give the order to proceed and cause an international incident if they captured the wrong man.

“I’ve got your six, brother.” Zinc whispered.

With a single nod, Steele gave the signal over the comm link. They were a go.

Only because he knew they were there, Steele spotted two of Chrome’s men peeling away from the sides of the building across from his position. Uranium and Tungsten scaled a large cargo container and dropped into a low crawl, positioning themselves with their snipers rifles armed and ready to take out any resistance.

Adamantium’s voice hummed in his ear. “They’re dark. All yours, sir.”

“Ant, you and Cobalt get in position. Thirty seconds.”

Steele glanced at Chrome’s sharpshooters on a rooftop the next warehouse over. Copper had the best vantage point for taking out the bodyguards surrounding the men in suits.

“Copper,” he whispered in his earpiece.

“Sir.”

“Clear the field. Don’t hit the target.”

“
Don’t
hit the target, sir? Do not. Confirm?”

“Confirm.” Okay, so he decided to hedge his bets in case this was not Red Wolf. Until he was certain this was their target, the man was allowed to live.

Seconds later, the loud crack of gunfire pierced the air, followed by a several more. Steele and Zinc used the chaos to move from their position and approach Red Wolf and his buyer. Titanium and his team, four more men and one woman, boarded the vessel to secure the men below deck.

Men scrambled for cover, running around as if they’d set off firecrackers in their pants. They screamed and sprayed gunfire haphazardly as if they’d never held a gun before.

Within seconds, every single armed man was down, leaving the target clear for his approach.

Chrome joined them on his nine.

“I don’t like this,” Chrome muttered as they drew closer. “What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea. Let’s grab the cargo and get to the extraction point.

“Secure these two assholes while I take a look at our pay load,” Steele said to Zinc.

“D-don’t shoot American, please,” Hossein stuttered and waved both hands in the air. “They made me. They made me!”

Zinc took the weapons from the men on the ground.

“What the hell is he talking about?” Steele reached the back of the truck and pulled open the drape. “And what the fuck is this?”

“What is it?” Chrome came up behind them.

“It’s empty.”

“I knew it,” he growled. “I mother fucking knew it.”

Zinc knelt down and grabbed Red Wolf by the lapel. “Buddy, you better know some Goddamn English. Are you Vladimir Babikov?”

“I am Yevgen,” the man stated as he paled to the color of snow. “Please, my family. Will kill them unless I came here. Please.”

“Steele,” Titanium’s voice came across the line. The tension held in that one word grabbed him by the nuts.

His gaze flew to the dock of the container ship where Titanium and three of his men had gone below decks to secure the crewmen.

“Go ahead,” he said out of a tight throat.

“They’re all dead. The entire crew. If this even is the crew. These jackholes don’t look like seamen to me.”

Steele’s blood froze as the implication set in. He twisted around and the look in Zinc’s grim gaze confirmed they were on the same page.

The CIA agent. They’d been double-crossed.

Set up.

“Incoming!” Cobalt yelled as a shrill scream streaked overhead. A second later the cargo container where Tungsten and Uranium raced away from exploded in a ball of flames

Son-of-a-bitch!

Boom.

A second missile hit the end of the tugboat, engulfing the ship in flames as two armored vehicles barreled through the gate and opened fire.

Titanium. His whole team.

Fuck
.

He had to focus.

“Chrome! The vehicles!” Steele yelled and rolled underneath the cargo truck. He could see the lower half of Zinc’s body crouched on the far side.

“Already on it,” Chrome shouted back. “Merc. Copper. Get your asses here now. We’re dying. Beat feet and bring the heat.”

Merc’s response was drowned out by another explosion and bursts of gunfire. Both from their men and the enemy.

“Shit. Shit,” he groaned and fought to catch his breath.

In the expanse of dull gray metal and mud covered exhaust pipes, a shock of white near the corner of his eye caught his attention. Strapped to the undercarriage was a square-shaped, bright white compound decorated with ribbons of colored wired.

“Oh. Fuck.”

He rolled back into the line of fire and shouted at Zinc. “Scatter!” As he ran in no particular direction, the C-4 under the truck detonated followed closely by the sonic boom of a bomb tearing through the deck of the container ship. It knocked the wind out of him when he hit the ground. Flames and smoke blocked out the morning sky as particles of metal and wood rained down from above like killer snowflakes.

Through the mist and smoke Steele made out the shape of the seventy thousand ton vessel as it listed to the port side and began to sink at the rate of what looked like a foot with each of his heartbeats.

Amongst the wreckage a figure lay face down in the snow and ash.