Trinity: Military War Dog (21 page)

“What—what’s going on?”

At the startled voice of Alice Ward, Toque stood. In the second it took him to stand, Darci flipped the blanket over their weapons, folded it up, and tucked the bundle in her pack. “Nothing. We’re packing up. Toque was getting fresh.”

Toque spun, his gaze skimming the bed, then nailing the backpack as she slung it over her shoulders and secured the straps around her waist. “Hey!”

“Out of time.” She looked past him to Alice. “How’s the girl?”

“Clean.” She swallowed, still disconcerted and not buying the cover Darci had thrown over their standoff. “She’s asking for you.”

“What about the others?” Darci stepped around the cot.

“Jaekus is packed and waiting. The professor is muttering and not doing much of anything else.”

“Alice, make him! Or he’ll be dead within the hour.” Darci rushed toward her. “Now!”

Mouth open, eyes wide, Alice took a step back. Nodded. Then another step backward. “Right.” She spun and hurried into the morning that washed with the blue specter of dawn. Odd. She’d never thought of dawn in that way, but knowing daylight could reveal them if they had to hide …

Fire ripped through the back of her head. Her world tilted upward.

Toque had her hair in a fist. He hauled her against him. Something pinched her throat.

A knife!

Planting one hand on the handle and one on the blade, she forced herself not to fight him. To set him off balance and seize the chance. “You won’t get anything out of me like this.”

“It seems there’s no way to get anything out of you. But I have a feeling you’ll talk if I go after that girl.”

“N—” She clamped down on the panic.

He chuckled. “Thought you might reconsider. Now cough it up.”

The girl wasn’t just a child she’d gone soft for. Badria could possibly identify who’d murdered her family. Yielding now insured Darci could get the girl back to Bagram, back to the general and the experts.

“Who’s coming, Jia?”

“Release me.”

“We tried it your way.”

“You’re going to get us killed.”

“No, you wasting time is getting us killed.”

Anger tightened her chest. “Fine.” As soon as she said it, the pressure on her throat eased. She pushed the knife away and straightened, moving toward the tent-pole support. If she needed to, she’d use it somehow.

“I want my Glock and the information.”

Thunder rumbled through the predawn hour.

Wait! That wasn’t thunder.

“Chopper,” Toque said. Three large strides carried him to the entrance.

Darci was at his side. She whipped open the flap.

“Good,” the professor announced. “They’re just on time.”

“Who? Who’s coming?” Darci hurried forward, fury coloring her vision red.

“I called the Army, told them we needed to—”

“Fool!” Toque shouted.

Darci gulped the adrenaline as she lifted Badria into her arms. “You’ve led them straight to us.”

“Of course I did,” the professor said with a chortle. “Wasn’t that the idea?”

“Not them, the
enemy
!”

White hair rimmed wide eyes. “What enemy?”

Toque leaned toward Darci and placed a hand on Badria’s black hair, severing the dance of firelight on her face. “Who is it, Jia?”

It wouldn’t matter in a few minutes. “Chinese.”

His eyes rounded. He spun toward the chopper.

As if in response, a stream of hellfire dotted the dark sky as if lighting the way for the missile streaking toward the helicopter that now hovered above their camp. But Darci knew—the dots were the missiles.

“Run!” The backwash of the rotors drowned her words.

Darci crushed the girl to herself and dove away from the chopper. Two routes presented themselves: through the main tents, down the path that led to the gorge where they’d collected water and showered. Or to the right, up the rigorous terrain and deeper into the unforgiving Hindu Kush.

High ground has the advantage
.

She dove to the right. Sprinted between the base-camp tent and her own. A hand on her shoulder told her she wasn’t alone. No time to look back. To consider who was with her. Who was against her. Pain niggled at her, reminding her of the graze. She reached for another crag.

Night turned to day. Brilliant white. For an instant.

Darci tensed.

Booom!

An invisible hand shoved her face-first into the rock. White-hot pain flashed through her skull. Then blacker than black, night devoured her whole.

            Fifteen              

10 Klicks outside FOB Robertson

T
he village felt haunted. Emptied, yet he knew it wasn’t. Couldn’t be if Command had sent them here. Heath peered through the slats of the MRAP as it lumbered around a row of buildings. Arabic script ran down the walls on either side of doors. Some sported both English lettering and Arabic. Closed doors. Closed windows. Closed hearts. Heath had seen it time and again in Taliban strongholds. The only thing some wanted from Americans was death—of said Americans. Every now and then that distinct feeling wafted on the wind and brought with it a warning.

This was one of those times. His words from the night before about God having their backs echoed in his mind. He sure hoped he hadn’t lied.

“Looks like they knew we were coming,” Candyman called to Watters.

“Yep.” Watters shifted and glanced down.

Heath traced his line of sight. Pride swelled as he realized Watters was assessing Trinity for signs of concern or agitation. But his partner sat at his feet, snout resting on his knee. Until he put her into action on the ground, she wasn’t interested. He ruffled her head and shrugged at Watters.

Watters banged the hull. “Let’s get up close and personal.” The MRAP slowed to a stop.

Two sergeants at the back climbed out, one taking point on a knee, the other flanking him. “Clear.”

Heath and Aspen waited as the rest of the detachment filed out. Waiting and acting like a spectator. As he bent and stepped from the steel coffin, he realigned his mind. Civilian or military, he was in a hostile situation. Not being ready mentally could get his head blown off.

Trinity tugged on her lead, straining. She looked at him, wagged her tail as if to say, “Ready to play?” then sat down and stared at her objective.

Heath glanced at Watters, who was giving his team orders. “She’s got a hit.”

“You aren’t—aw heck, never mind.” Watters motioned to Candyman to take a team and scout north. Watters would sweep south, and they’d meet up in the middle again. With four guys behind him, he nodded to Heath. “Lead on.”

Heart pumping fast, Heath released Trinity. “Trinity, seek!”

With a small lunge, she barreled onward, nosing the ground. Her head turning right, then left as she continued. Exhilarated, Heath looked to his friends, only to see Hogan’s narrowed gaze behind Aspen. Something needled his conscience. But what? Trinity loved this. Heath might have a pounding headache, but Trinity was pounding the ground.

Jogging behind his canine partner, he felt the telltale thud in his skull.
Too much
. He’d done too much in too short a time. He knew it. But slowing down equaled defeat. And he wasn’t going there.

Trinity stopped, sniffed, then sat back on her haunches and looked at him. Then at the closed door.

Heath signaled to the team leader.

Watters and his team edged in, weapons up. “U.S. Special Forces,” he shouted to those inside. “Come out with your hands in the air.” He shouted the message again, this time in Pashto. Then Arabic.

Heath clipped the lead back on Trinity and took a firm grip.

The door eased open.

Trinity lunged. Barked.

Sucking in a breath, Heath grabbed a tighter hold on the lead and pulled her back. Which was about like trying to harness a tornado. “Trinity, out!”

An Afghan man screamed, then bent away, covering his head. Cowering.

The rest of Watters’s team rushed into the home. Shouts came from several directions. Down the dusty, hard-packed street, Heath saw the other team members clearing a store. Heath walked Trinity in a circle around the small crowd of Special Forces troops and the family of six or eight who stepped into the cool morning. A good hit, but that was enough. The weakness in his legs and arms told him so. The erratic heart rate told him so.

Then why couldn’t he just let it go?

With a fair distance between them and the others, Heath let Watters do what he did best and took a knee next to Trinity. He wrapped an arm around her thick chest, proud that even after thirteen months off the grid, she still had what it took. “Good girl.”

Trained on the others, Trinity was distracted just long enough to turn her head to him, swipe her tongue up his cheek, then refocus on the action unfolding. She missed it, the action, being useful, being part of a team.

He patted her side. “Me too, girl.” He sighed. Or did he?

In his periphery he saw Jibril, Aspen, and Hogan monitoring the progress of the SF team. It hit Heath then—
I have a team, a new team
.

Trinity’s ears flickered. Swiveling like satellites, they twisted to the rear. She looked over his shoulder. In a split second, she launched over Heath’s shoulder.

The lead ripped out of his fingers.

Heath spun—so did his head. He shook it off as he shoved to his feet, searching for Trinity. Scanning the structures, he tried to make sense of the almost monochromatic setting. Brown roads. Brown buildings. Wait—there. To the right. Third building. Trinity once again took up an aggressive stance, snarling and snapping.

“Trinity, heel!” He glanced to Watters. Should he shout for help? When he turned back to Trinity, his heart stuttered. She was gone!

“Trinity!” He took a step forward. Crap. He wasn’t cleared to engage hostiles. Then again, he wasn’t leaving Trinity to end up dead. She hadn’t left him—he wouldn’t leave her. Again, he double-checked his six.

The villager was arguing with Watters, his team helping with small children from the home.

Too busy.

Heath rushed after Trinity.
This is real smart. You have no weapon. No backup
. He didn’t care. He wasn’t losing Trinity. Not now. Not here. At least he had a vest and helmet. With each plant of his boots, Heath steeled himself. His head felt like it was taking assault fire.
Boom. Boom. Boom
.