“Good authority?”
“The prime minister called after the news aired the story. He expressed his sorrow and the regrets of his nation but snuck in a jab about American military running rampant through the streets of Bishkek. I started to offer a demonstration of what his city would look like if we were running rampant.” Weidman took a moment to swallow. Mac was right, bad news tasted bad. “He described the bodies as being men wearing balaclavas, helmets, dressed in black, and carrying American weapons.”
The video connect conveyed Mac’s pained expression. He didn’t jerk, didn’t react, but an ocean width and half a continent of distance couldn’t hide the emotional agony. Mac’s only physical response was an increase in his blink rate. “Did you confirm it was an Army team?”
“No. Of course not. I denied the whole thing.” He pressed his lips together. “There’s more. Apparently, the prime minister raised Cain with the embassy and they called the president. I’m under orders not to allow any other teams onto the streets.”
“That doesn’t sound like Huffington,” Mac said. “He’s always been on our side. He owes us. We saved his skin and that of his wife, not to mention the leaders at a G-20 meeting in Europe. This isn’t right.”
“Not by a long shot, Mac. I know it; you know it; but our hands are tied. I’ve had to shut down flights over the country. We’re focusing on work-arounds, but no matter what direction I send up a craft, it will fly over Kyrgyzstan dirt. I am effectively grounded. Which is just as well. I’m putting troops to work protecting the perimeter of the base and the aircraft. I don’t think it will come to this, but we may have to defend our assets. We’re not real popular with the locals. It’s always been tense, but this last year has been worse.”
“You said it was the prime minister who contacted you? Not the president? That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?”
Weidman shook his head. “Sorry, Mac, but no. President Oskonbaeva has his hands full. He has riots in at least three cities, it appears several mobs are moving in on the government building, and someone tried to kidnap his daughter. He has the PM doing a lot of the communication work.”
Mac tilted his head back and looked up. Weidman wondered what he saw on the ceiling. “I know the answer but I have to ask.” He looked back into the camera. “Radio contact?”
“No. The team is using hand radios, no man-pack. They’re line of sight mostly and we’re too far away from the Bishkek to get a decent signal. If we were allowed to fly over the city, I could get a chopper within range in minutes.”
Mac rubbed his face hard. Weidman thought the spec ops commander would peel the skin from his skull. “The Army has trained me for many things. I thought Ranger training was the worst thing a man could endure, but I was wrong. This is. I’ve had to deliver bad news before, but these boys—these men—they were like sons.” He stared at the table in front of him. “J. J. has . . . he’s got twins on the way. Jose has enough kids to start his own school.” He paused then began to swear in an unrelenting stream of obscenities. Weidman let him rant. He had a right to. Sometimes cursing was all a soldier could do.
When Mac slowed the obscenities and curses, Weidman said, “Mac, I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t true. I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Thanks, Danny.”
A moment later, Weidman moved on to the next thing he didn’t want to say. “Mac, this stuff is going out over local media. That means CNN or some other news agency is going to get wind of it, if they haven’t already. I wouldn’t doubt the PM will make sure the world news agencies get wind of this. It’s to his advantage. He would love for us to pack up and leave tonight.” Another pause. “Mac, you gotta tell the families before the news does. It might already be too late, but you gotta try.”
“I need confirmation, Danny. We don’t have proof.”
Weidman spoke softly. “Mac, we are two of the few people in the world who know we had special operators on the streets. We have to assume the dead men in the street are our boys. It’s your call, but if it were me, I’d tell them now rather than let the media do it for me. I don’t know your team well, but they seemed like good guys. Their families deserve to hear from the Army first.”
Mac rubbed his chin. “I want you to do something for me.”
“Name it.”
“You won’t like it.”
“That’s not a requirement, Mac. You know that.”
“I do. I want you to pull a team together. Make it a good one. I don’t care if they’re Rangers or Marines or Air Force spec ops. Just get me a team.”
“I’m under presidential orders not to send in another team.”
“I didn’t ask you to send them in, just pull it together. I’ll talk to the president.”
“And if he doesn’t want to see you?”
Mac interlaced his fingers on the desk surface. “He’ll see me.”
MASTER SERGEANT ALAN KINKAID
sat to the side of the desk watching his boss hear the worst news a commander could. Mac looked to his longtime aide. The man hadn’t done field work in years but his body was still hard has a granite boulder. He knew for a fact the man worked out two hours a day. As much as that impressed Mac, Kinkaid’s mind was more impressive. He was a skilled administrator and had almost a sixth sense about things. Quiet, unassuming, Kinkaid was the only one who could keep Mac grounded.
“We’re going to DC, Sergeant. Make it happen.”
“Yes, sir. When would you like to leave?”
“Ten minutes ago. Get us on the president’s docket.”
“That might be difficult, sir. He’s bound to know you’ll want to speak to him.”
Mac rose and fixed a hot gaze on Kinkaid. “Master Sergeant, make this happen. I don’t care whose fingers you have to shoot off to bring it about. Clear?”
Kinkaid stood. “Crystal clear, sir.”
Mac started to leave the communication room in the Concrete Palace situated at Fort Jackson. “I’m going to go to my office and try to figure out a few things, like how I’m going to tell Tess and the others about this.”
“Sir? Something isn’t right here.”
“You can say that again.”
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, but I mean something doesn’t track.”
“What?”
Kinkaid shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. I feel like I’m missing something. I just don’t know what.”
“You can figure it out on our way to DC. Now get hopping, soldier. I’m not feeling patient.”
“And if the president won’t see us?”
“Then I will stand in the middle of the public area of the White House and refuse to leave until he does or he orders someone to strip the eagles off my collar.”
“BINGO,” J. J. SAID.
“Back us up, Junior.”
Pete slowed, then threw the vehicle in reverse. “Whatcha got?”
“I’ll tell you when to stop.”
“Got it, Boss.” Pete focused on the side mirrors, moving backward slowly.
“Stop. There, that door has been compromised. There’s her mark. Lower right of the door.” He keyed his radio and passed the news to Aliki and the others. He ordered them to the street side of the building and told them to hold their position. “We’re going in.” He pulled his knit mask over his face, flicked off the safety on his M4A1. He trained extensively with the weapon but was used to carting the longer, heavier M110 Semi-Automatic Sniper System. That was when he was the team sniper. As Boss, he was required to lead his team into the close-quarters works. Mike Nagano was the guy with the big gun now.
“Ready?” J. J. asked Pete and Jose.
“Hooah,” they whispered.
“Let’s rock.”
J. J. exited the vehicle with Pete and Jose on his heels. He dropped his night vision goggles in place and took careful steps. He approached the half-open door. Pete and Jose were just a few feet behind him forming a tight line.
Aliki’s voice came over his ear set. “Boss, Joker. Front door looks unlocked.”
“Roger that. Stand by.”
Taking a deep breath, J. J. plunged in, the barrel of his M4 leading the way.
“CHECK HIM FOR ID.”
J. J. felt a moment of disappointment. He was certain he had found the women. That certainty evaporated the moment he found the two bodies on the floor and the open front door.
The team swept the building in moments and found evidence the women had been there: open packages, boxes piled by the back door, and two male corpses.
“Man, I hope this woman isn’t married,” Aliki said.
“She’d be one tough date.” Mike Nagano stooped and patted the men down. Jose used his tactical light to illuminate the corpses. “No wallets. Civilian clothing. I bet they didn’t see her coming.”
“They’ve underestimated her,” J. J. said. “I’m starting to wonder if we are too.”
“How so?” Pete stood near the store front, scanning the street for activity.
“I don’t know, Junior. She stays a step ahead of us.”
“She has to, Boss. She and her friend are running from clowns like this.” Jose examined the bodies. “Both have taken blows to the head. The guy closest to the door had the side of his caved in. My guess is someone took the fire extinguisher to him. This guy,” he pointed at the smaller of the two men, “took a head pounding too. I’m just spit-balling here, but I think he took a blow to the back of the head, just above the Atlas vertebrae. The blow may have snapped his neck.”
“What’s that on the floor, Doc?” Aliki stepped closer.
“Baby formula, dude. Trust me, I know the smell. It’s from that can. One of them killed the guy with a can of baby formula. That’s gotta be a first.”
“She’s innovative, I’ll give her that,” Junior said. “What now, Boss?”
“We carry on. We know that there is another team looking for them. We saw Lennon mow down two men with her car, now two more here, so it’s more than one guy. Mobsters? Mercenaries? Islamic extremists?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “There is more we don’t know than what we do. I don’t much like that.” He looked around the pharmacy one more time. “Doc, how long have they been dead?”
“I can’t be sure, Boss. I’m no coroner.” He removed one of his black gloves and touched the dead man’s face and hands. “He’s cool but still has some warmth. His skin is still pink so the blood hasn’t settled. They haven’t been dead long.”
“So our ladies can’t be very far.”
“I don’t know, Boss,” Aliki said. “After seeing what this woman can do, I wouldn’t be surprised if she sprouted a cape and flew off.”
“I’ve noticed something else.” Jose moved to the area behind the pharmacist’s counter, bent behind the divider, and then stood again, setting several items on the counter. J. J. and Aliki moved to the counter. The others kept watch by the rear and front doors. Jose shone his light on the objects.
Aliki spoke first. “What’s that junk?”
J. J. took the largest of the objects. “A painter’s mask?”
“Yep, well, a mask used to filter particulate matter from the air. My dad is big into woodworking. He wears one of these when he does heavy-duty sanding.” He picked up a box. “Asthma rescue inhaler. I found two of these boxes. Both empty.”
“One of them is an asthmatic?” J. J. thought for a moment.
“Yes, and throw in stress, physical exertion, and all that stinky air out there, it’s a wonder the woman can move at all.”
“So, Lennon broke into here to get meds for the president’s daughter.”