Read MAC WALKER'S BENGHAZI: The Complete Collection Online
Authors: D. W. Ulsterman
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #War
MAC WALKER'S BENGHAZI: The Complete Collection (23 page)
Densmore glared back at Mac, his face twisted in contempt.
“You’re so stupid Walker. So fucking dumb. What’s going on out here, it’s so much bigger than you could ever imagine. Do you know the powers involved in this? Do you know what will happen to you? You kill me, it won’t make a bit of difference. There’s a new world coming Walker, and you’re either living in it or dead. It’s gonna happen. It IS happening. Killing me won’t change that. It’ll just make it worse for you and anyone or anything you care about.”
Mac lowered his rifle, looking Densmore up and down slowly as he shook his head.
“There ain’t a bit of man left in you Densmore. Look at you, begging for mercy, making threats that some higher ups are gonna come and get me and my men. Is it worth it to you? Working for this kind of government that would kill its own so easily? You think they won’t let me live? What about you? It’s just sad seeing you like this – you got no fucking soul left, man. Whatever you were all those years ago, it’s gone. Dead. You been dead for years but just didn’t know it. Sold out. Maybe there’s nothing left for me anymore in America. You could be right about that, but I aim to find out one way or the other. As for you…”
Mark Densmore finally made his move. Mac had intentionally lowered his rifle, knowing Densmore was hiding a handgun tucked into the back of his pants. Even a shit like Densmore deserved a fighting chance – Mac’s code of honor required he give him that.
Not that Densmore had any real hope of outdrawing Mac Walker. The former Navy SEAL rested the sniper rifle barrel in his left hand, which allowed his right hand the freedom to pull out his own handgun at a speed too fast for Densmore’s eyes to follow. Densmore froze with his own weapon raised up halfway between the ground and Mac, his eyes wide in terror at knowing his life was soon to end.
“No-no-no-no Walker! Don’t do it! I can get you out of here! Protect you! All of you! You kill me, they’ll come for you! All of you!”
Mac, the death of Jack still front and center in his mind, gritted his teeth as he glowered back at Densmore.
“Shut up.”
The bullet entered Densmore’s still speaking mouth, exiting the lower base of his skull in a spray of blood and bone. For a half second, Mark Densmore seemed stunned Mac had actually pulled the trigger, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly as he attempted to speak yet again. Then his body crumpled to the paved road below his feet where it remained motionless.
Benny, Minnick, Ella and her men were already making certain no other men were alive inside the second SUV. Two bodies were found and pulled out, both killed by gunshot wounds. They did the same with the other black SUV, pulling three more dead bodies out onto the pavement.
Minnick looked over each one closely, checking to see the weapons issued, their clothing, and cell phones.
“These are all U.S. government Mac. Every one.”
Mac didn’t bother to look down at the bodies.
“Yeah – figured they would be. Get Jack out of the Hummer and into whichever one of these other vehicles that can still drive. We got a plane to catch.”
Mac, Benny, Minnick, Ella, Udi and Tamir sat inside of the first SUV Mac had shot at that day, with Jack’s body lying in the back as they drove into the Benina Airport facility. They were stopped by several armed United Nations security guards at the gate. Mac leaned his head out the window and growled to the guard who appeared to be in charge.
“We’re here to see Mr. Danton. He’s expecting us.”
The armed men were looking over the many bullet holes that riddled the SUV’s exterior like a series of steel framed pock marks. Mac overheard a familiar, French-accented voice coming from one of the guard’s communication devices.
“Let them in!”
No sooner had Mac brought the vehicle to a stop next to the entrance to Louis Danton’s office did Danton himself emerge from the second story stairs and make his way down to greet Mac and the others, a genuine look of relief on his face.
“I wasn’t certain I would be seeing you this morning Mr. Walker. I had been told your arrival here was not to be allowed by others. It appears you didn’t listen. Am I to assume Mr. Densmore is no longer among the living, and that he perhaps met his demise on the road to Benina?”
Mac nodded.
Densmore’s perfectly aligned and brilliant white teeth revealed themselves in a wide smile as he nodded back at Mac.
“Very good then Mr. Walker! You know, it is a sad but undeniable fact that militant bandits have become quite common in these parts. I will be sure to file a report of the tragic loss of Mr. Densmore and his men to such bandits.”
Mac smiled faintly but then nodded toward the SUV.
“I lost a man today Mr. Danton. I need a couple of favors from you if you don’t mind.”
Louis Danton stood in front of Mac and held his gaze as he replied.
“Whatever you need Mr. Walker. I believe whatever help I might provide you at this moment will be the last help you receive from anyone for some time. The United States is not the country you once knew it to be, but I assure you, I will have you returned there safely.
Mac Walker closed his eyes at Danton’s remark about America, knowing all too well how true his words were. Mac felt himself returning to a home no longer his own.
X
XIX.
Mac, Benny, and Minnick sat in the back cargo area of the Air France flight Danton had coordinated to take them from the
Ivory Coast to the United States. On the floor of the plane lay a simple pine casket where Jack’s body was stored.
Before boarding the flight from Benghazi to the Ivory Coast, Mac had taken a moment to thank both Udi and Tamir, and then say goodbye to Ella. She and her men were to be driven to the Bulgarian consulate in Benghazi for protection.
“Stay alive Mac Walker. This world needs more men like you.”
Mac looked back at Ella and grinned.
“I think a few more like you would do us all a lot more good Ella. Thank you for your help. For everything.”
The two didn’t kiss, or embrace. They simply looked at one another for a few more brief moments, and then walked away.
Hours later, as Mac sat with his remaining team around Jack’s casket, he poured each of them a shot glass of Jack Daniels whiskey, provided to them as one of the two favors Mac had asked of Louis Danton. The second favor was soon to begin as the song
Sweet Home Alabama
began to blare from the speakers hung in the cargo area of the plane.
Mac raised his glass and watched as Benny and Minnick did the same.
“To Jack Thompson, a big corn fed son-of-a-bitch who I’m gonna miss like hell.”
Mac was surprised to feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes as he struggled to continue with the toast.
“Jack didn’t want this mission, but he came anyways, for no other reason than I asked him to. I’ve got to live with that fact for the rest of my life. None us know how long that might be. We’re heading back to a country that seems intent on selling itself out to the highest bidder. But, we’ll make sure to get Jack back to his people, where he can be laid to rest right. He would of done the same for any of us. That’s what soldiers do. We’re brothers. We finish the mission. Goddammit, I’m so sorry Alabama. So sorry…”
Mac drank the whiskey and then poured another, and then another.
It was late morning of September 12
th
when Mac sat around a table inside of an airport bar just an hour after arriving back in the United States. Louis Danton had made good on his promise to deliver them home safely.
Mac’s phone rang. It was Ella.
“Mr. Walker, are you in the United States?”
Mac sensed the strain in Ella’s voice.
‘Yeah – what’s the matter?”
“Have you seen the news yet?”
Mac glanced up at Benny and Minnick who sat silently looking back at him.
“Can one of you turn on the news?”
Benny rose from his seat and asked one of the bar staff to turn on a news channel. Mac looked at the images of a burning building on the screen. He knew it instantly. He and his men had sat directly across the road inside of a safe house watching trucks drive into and out of the very same Benghazi compound the news report was showing footage of having been attacked.
The familiar face flashed across the screen. Mac instantly recognized the man, having just spoken to him little more than twenty four hours earlier. The ambassador was dead. The newswoman indicated the administration was placing blame for the attack some unknown Internet video.
“Are you seeing the news reports Mac?”
Mac watched three more faces scroll across the TV – three more dead Americans.
“They’re blaming a video.”
Ella’s laughter held no humor. She sounded incredibly tired.
“Yes, they are. It was a coordinated attack Mr. Walker. I’ve already seen the intelligence report. A representative from the Turkish government met the ambassador one hour before he died. He was trying to halt the operation and they killed him. There was all kinds of communications chatter. A stand down order. Three others who knew of the operation were killed as well. All Americans. And the explosions, it wasn’t mortar fire. It was drones. We have two witnesses who already indicated they spotted a low flying armed drone heading for the second building – the CIA annex. It was drone bombed. Your government attacked and killed its own operatives. The weapons have already been cleaned out. All of them.”
Mac could feel his pulse slamming against his temple.
“Are the Israeli’s going to come forward with this Ella?”
Ella paused, and then whispered a single word.
“No.”
Mac knew that was to be her response before he asked the question.
“They’re walking away from this?”
“Yes Mr. Walker. I’m being removed from Benghazi within the hour. There will be no report. Nothing. They want nothing to do with this. It’s all been…it’s all been a waste. Everything we did, tried to do…nothing.”
Mac remained silent, still watching the images of the burning Benghazi compound.
“They’ll come for you Mr. Walker. You - your team.”
Mac nodded to himself.
“I know.”
“What will you do Mac?”
Mac took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes.
“Do what I’ve always done Ella.
Stay alive…”
End.
NOW AVAILABLE from D.W. ULSTERMAN:
MAC WALKER’S BETRAYAL:
Books 1-3
(Sequel to Mac Walker’s Benghazi)
HE SERVED, SACRIFICED, AND BLED FOR HIS GOVERNMENT.
NOW THAT
GOVERNMENT WANTS HIM DEAD.
OTHER BOOKS BY D.W. ULSTERMAN:
-DOMINATUS
-TUMULTUS
-THE SECOND OLDEST PROFESSION
-THE SECOND OLDEST PROFESSION
THE SECOND OLDEST PROFESSION
Lust. Power. Politics.
Noted bestselling political writer D.W. Ulsterman takes readers into the torrid underbelly of Washington D.C., where powerful figures exist in a world dominated by power and lust, and winning is the only rule that matters.
Colin O'Shea is the young, politically talented new addition to a longtime congressman's D.C. staff. He soon finds himself immersed in dealings of deception and intrigue at the highest levels of national politics, and a too - willing participant in the life of a beautiful and dangerous prostitute.
"This story was hot!!! It's like 50 Shades had a one night stand with C-Span!"
-PC
**Adult Content**
…Cocaine is a hell of a drug. Frank Bennington knew well the feeling of waking up to a head and body aching after a night spent snorting line after line of his longtime medicinal friend. He was an addict – had been for most of his adult life.
Yeah, well who gives a shit? I’m Frank fucking Bennington asshole - politico extraordinaire.
Frank forced his sixty three year old and forty pounds overweight body up from the mattress of his king sized bed, his head blaring out its unhappiness as he did so. He had long ago become accustomed to the morning nausea ritual. The back of his throat burned from the post nasal drip common to the habitual cocaine user. This was accompanied by the crunching upper nasal passage headache that went with his near nightly use of little blue “pecker pills” that allowed Frank to produce and maintain the erection necessary to have a satisfying night of whoring.
Ah…women. Even more than the drugs and alcohol, Frank Bennington loved women above all things. He loved having them around him, drinking, dancing, and fucking - lots and lots of fucking. He loved the texture of their skin, the warmth of their breath, the sound of their laughter, and their appreciation of how hard he worked to please them in bed.
God was a pretentious, uncaring prick – but Frank forgave Him all of that because He gave the world women! White, black, brown, red, tall, short, thin or fat, Frank Bennington’s appetite for all women had been the defining hallmark of his life. After his third failed marriage twelve years ago, he decided to simply enjoy the moments as they came to him, without the ongoing obligations and resulting complications of a legal contract.
Frank stumbled against one of the two dressers in the bedroom of his small Lorin Estates apartment as he walked sans clothing toward the hallway bathroom, causing him to curse under his breath. He glanced back to the bed where the naked form of Silia lay, her dark skin contrasting against the white sheets. In recent months she had become Frank’s regular. Her rates were reasonable, and she appreciated that he allowed her to sleep over afterwards. She was twenty seven years old, having come to America from her home country of Brazil four years ago. Other than that, Frank knew little about her, and didn’t care to know. Too much of that kind of knowledge brought about emotional ties, and he’d had enough of those already. He just wanted somebody to spend a little time with and then fuck, and Silia happily kept to that arrangement.
Am I supposed to meet someone today? Oh – the new guy! The kid from Ohio.
It was almost 10:00 a.m. He’d told the kid to show up by 8:00. Not wanting to appear completely dysfunctional to the newest member of Congressman Latner’s team on the newbie’s first day, Frank called down to the apartment lobby.
“Jose, have my car out front in thirty minutes. Thank you.”
That left no time for a shower, or even a shave. Frank brushed his teeth, washed his face, and combed his thinning hair back from his forehead. A fresh application of deodorant and cologne, followed by putting on one of the ten freshly starched white dress shirts delivered to him every Monday morning from the Asian, family-owned Van’s Dry Cleaning just two blocks from the apartment complex, and his favorite pair of navy blue dress slacks, left Frank almost ready to take on another work day.
In the small single closet of his apartment he kept twenty ties and matching sets of suspenders arranged by color. Yesterday he had worn a dark blue tie and suspenders, so today should be something opposite that. Frank grabbed one of his two pink sets. He had long ago discovered that a man could wear the same clothing one day after the next if all he made certain to do was simply change out his tie and suspenders each time.
Where’s my fucking shoes?
Two years ago during his last check-up, Frank’s doctor explained to him that the ongoing pain in his feet was due to pre-diabetic neuropathy. It was suggested at that time Frank find a pair of shoes that offered ample arch support to lessen the pain. The same doctor also urged him to lose weight, lessen his drinking, and stop using drugs altogether.
Frank ignored every suggestion but the shoes.
Silia still lay sleeping in the bed, the sound of her soft snoring making Frank smile. Beyond the bed, nightstands, and two thrift store dressers, the room was devoid of furnishings. Silia’s clothing lay scattered on the floor, but the only pair of shoes Frank now owned remained hidden.
His headache was getting worse.
Might have left my shoes in the kitchen, along with the coke.
Frank walked down the short hallway to the small kitchen area. His wallet, keys, and Rolex lay on the countertop, as well as a near empty bottle of Wild Turkey, an open, half full bottle of Viagra, and a small plastic bag of cocaine, delivered to him inside one of the Capitol Building bathrooms last week by his longtime supplier Jaxx. Jaxx was the primary hook-up for half the drug users in Congress, which made him a very rich man.
His white running shoes sat on the off white tile of the kitchen floor directly in front of the stainless steel refrigerator. Frank Bennington hadn’t gone running since he was a kid, but the shoes made his feet feel better, so he wore them everywhere he went.
“Frank, you leaving already? You wanna fuck again before you go?”
God I love the sound of that voice!
Frank glanced down at his watch, and then wondered if enough of the Viagra he had taken in the early morning hours the night before remained in his system.
“C’mon back to bed Frank…I know you want to.”
His headache had lessened some as Frank made his way back to the bedroom where Silia lay above the covers of the bed, her arms and legs, and all her other wonderfully dark toned feminine parts beckoning him to join her.
“I’m running late Silia. Christina is gonna be pissed.”
Silia’s plump lips formed a pout as she rose up onto her knees and shook her head, causing the long black strands of her hair to fall over her face and full breasts.
“Won’t take long - I promise.”
Silia stuck a finger into her mouth and looked back at Frank, her dark eyes dancing with seductive mischief.
Frank stood before Silia as she quickly worked the front of his dress slacks loose. He glanced at his watch once again and then placed an appreciative hand behind the Brazilian woman’s head as she expertly began to coax his lower half back to life.
“I hate to have to rush you, but you have just five minutes to get this done.”
Silia grinned back up at Frank before returning to her work.
She didn’t need five minutes…
FULL NOVEL AVAILABLE HERE: