19 Headed for Trouble (38 page)

The senior chief frowned. Rick and Owen, too, were perplexed.

Magic was the only one who’d caught Shane checking his watch, and because he knew Shane as well as he did, he also knew what was coming.

Boom!

There it was. The first hit of the air strike Shane had called in. He’d radioed the coordinates of that abandoned farmhouse that they’d passed on their way up the mountain.

Boom-bah-dah-boom! Bah-boom! Bah-dah-boom!
It sounded like fireworks going off as the land mines that surrounded the farmhouse began exploding, too.

“I had Dex check to make sure the farmhouse was still abandoned,” Shane told the senior as he gave himself another healthy dose of the local and pulled himself up to his feet. His ankle still ached like a mother, and it felt weird as shit, but it held his weight. He didn’t need Magic’s glower and dire words to know that walking on an injury like this could make the damage permanent. But his choices were limited, and he had to do what he had to do. “I figured I might as well take out as much of the minefield as possible—two birds with one stone.”

The noise of the attack was like a red alert siren down in the village, and sure enough, from their hillside vantage point, Shane could see a small group of people streaming out of the back of the school’s Quonset hut. They moved quickly but carefully, heading toward the
steepest of the two paths up the hillside, as if this were something they’d drilled.

“Move into position on both paths,” the senior ordered. “In case this is a decoy. Eyes out for our mislabeled former target, ID her, let her pass, but then follow. We’ll catch up to her when she’s feeling more secure.” He looked at Shane, who nodded back.

That was exactly what Shane had intended and planned for. Montague, and the people protecting her, were no doubt frightened by the sound of the nearby bombing. They’d be likely to shoot first, without asking questions, at least at this stage of the game.

“Rick with Kozinski,” the senior continued. “Owen and the LT with me.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Owen said, looking from Shane to Salantino to Shane and then back, as he corrected himself, “I mean, Senior. But I finally broke into the rogue team’s communications, and the order’s just gone out to launch a mortar attack.”

And there it was. Shane heard it, and he knew his SEALs did, too. The
whump
of a mortar launching was unmistakable, as was the silence that immediately followed. There was no way to know what the target was, because you couldn’t hear the damn thing coming.

No whistle, no warning. Just sudden instant death.

But then it hit—a direct blast to the school’s Quonset hut—and they all heard that, loud and clear, as the explosion ripped through the night.

The place was still packed with people—mostly children.

Another
whump
followed, and the SEALs all started to run.

“Do whatever you have to, to end those motherfuckers, whoever they are,” Shane ordered the senior chief as he scrambled down the hillside, even though he had no right to dispense orders anymore. “Make them
stop, then help the wounded! I’ll get the woman and her family to safety!”

“Don’t you dare get your ass killed by friendlies, LT,” the senior shouted back as he headed directly into the kill zone, Rick and Owen on his heels, even as he opened a radio signal to Dex.

“Magic, you’re with me,” Shane shouted, but the taller SEAL was already at his shoulder.

“My Pashto’s shitty, so I’ll start with French,” Magic said. “Because of the whole Canadian-father thing.”

“Just start talking, and don’t stop until you’re sure they’re not going to kill us,” Shane said as the group of villagers that were halfway up the steeper of the two trails stopped, turning to watch in horror as yet another mortar hit, and this time a car went up in flames.

And then, because they’d started to move back down the hillside, no doubt going to help the injured escape the fire that was now burning in the school—a move that would mean certain death for Tomasin Montague—Shane didn’t just walk toward them on his injured foot.

He full-out ran.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

Tomasin Montague spoke perfect English.

She also had an escape route planned—but she was unwilling to divulge information about it to two Americans, one of whom was still wearing a military uniform.

Her bodyguards kept their weapons carefully, unswervingly trained on Shane and Magic, and Shane didn’t blame them. Were he in her position, he would do the same.

He told her everything.

The assignment he’d been given to take out a wanted terrorist, known for her ruthlessness in killing children.

The realization they’d had that the face-recognition software was intentionally set to deceive them.

Shane’s attempt to placate his superiors and buy time to contact and rescue Tomasin and her family by calling in the bombing on the deserted farmhouse down the hillside.

The still unidentified rogue team that launched the mortar attack on the school—an attack that had been silenced, no doubt permanently, by Senior Chief Salantino and the other SEALs.

“It’s important,” Shane said, as he looked into Tomasin Montague’s weary and wary brown eyes, “that this time, when you disappear, you disappear for good. I can help you do that.”

She didn’t trust him, but she didn’t shut him down, so he kept talking.

“I have a friend,” he continued, but then corrected himself, because Jean was not anyone’s friend. “A contact. In Vienna. He can help you vanish. You and your children.” He looked from Tomasin to the little boy she held close to her side, the one from the images, and then to a teenaged girl who was still wearing her costume from the play. She, too, looked a lot like her mother.

One of the guards, the one with the AK-47, murmured something, and even though Shane was no kind of languages expert like Magic, he knew from the tone and the urgency that the man was saying it was time to go.

“You think you can hide,” Shane persisted, and the woman looked back at him. “But the people who are after you won’t give up. They
will
find you.”

“And next time Lieutenant Laughlin won’t be there to help you,” Magic chimed in. “You have no idea how lucky you are that this man was in command of this mission.
No
idea.”

“Jean Reveur,” Shane said as Tomasin looked from
Magic to Shane and back again. “You can contact him via his email address. Dreamer19 at qmail dot com. Tell him I sent you. Tell him I’m cashing in the favor he owes me. Tell him after this? We’re even.”

“You would use up this favor,” she said in her gently accented English, “for strangers?”

Magic answered for him. “Yes, ma’am. He would.”

“Go,” Shane said. “Now. Dreamer19. Qmail. We’ll go help the wounded.”

The woman nodded, and with her children at her side, she turned to continue up the path into the mountains. The guard with the AK-47 lingered, backing away from Shane and Magic, his weapon still trained on them until he was swallowed by the night.

“Think she’ll do it?” Shane asked his friend, who’d already looped Shane’s arm up and around his neck, so he’d have to put the least amount of weight on his injured ankle as possible as they scrambled and slid down the steep path to the still-burning Quonset hut.

“Probably not until the news of your court-martial goes public,” Magic said helpfully. “Or maybe it’ll be the ceremony where they strip you of your rank that’ll convince her you’re on her side. Particularly if they keep the cameras rolling and catch the part where Ashley returns your engagement ring.”

“That’s not going to happen. Ashley loves me,” Shane said, although even to his own ears he didn’t sound completely convinced.

“I know I’ve given you endless crap about her,” Magic grunted as he kept them both from falling as his boots skidded on some loose gravel that bounced down the trail ahead of them. “All my conspiracy theories and predictions of doom? That’s just because I’m a jealous piece of shit. She’s amazing. And she definitely loves you, man. But Daddy’s not going to let her marry you. Not after the CEO-in-Chief chews you up and spits you
out. Ashley’s got a lot of really great qualities, Shane, but a backbone made of steel isn’t one of ’em. You know this as well as I do.”

Shane couldn’t argue with that.

“She’ll cry,” Magic continued as they left the hillside behind. “And she’ll be heartbroken and devastated. But when it’s all said and done, she’ll do as she’s told.”

“I still think I have a chance,” Shane started to say.

But Magic wasn’t done. “You know, it’s not too late for me to—”

“Jesus Christ, just shut it, Kozinski.”

But Magic didn’t. “Seriously, Shane. With you gone from the Teams, what’s the point of my staying? Have you
seen
the new officers in the SpecWarGroup HQ? They haven’t gone through BUD/S, but now they’re leading SEAL teams? They’re not qualified to wipe my ass.”

Shane could feel the heat from the fire on his face, hear the screams of the wounded and grieving. “Then I guess you’re finally going to have to get your shit together and go through OTS. Make the jump from enlisted to officer.”

“Fuck. Me,” Magic said. “Can you
see
me in Officers’ Training? I won’t make it through one week, let alone twenty-six.”

“Play your cards right,” Shane said, “and maybe
you’ll
marry Ashley.”

“That’s not funny.” Magic’s voice was tight.

“I know,” Shane said. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

But then they rounded the corner and found Rick’s makeshift triage—which included an area reserved for the unsavable and the already dead.

Magic stopped short. “Fuck. Those bastards killed Buttercup. Shit,” he said.
“Shit.”

Nothing like a dozen dead children as a visual aid to drive Shane’s point home. Or two dozen wounded, with
more still trapped inside. “You’ve gotta stay in,” Shane said quietly. “Or we’ll never find out who’s responsible for this.”

Magic didn’t answer. He also didn’t pretend that Shane would stay out here and assist Rick. He just helped him into the burning building and then let him go. Apparently it was okay with him if Shane had to use a cane for the rest of his life, if it meant he’d saved children’s lives.

Shane moved past the civilians—mostly women—who were helping with the evacuation. He went right toward the heat of the flames, where he scooped up a little girl who’d been stunned from the blast, who was coughing and vomiting from the thick, toxic smoke. His ankle was starting to scream—the local was wearing off. But he carried her out and gently put her down near Rick, then went back inside for the next, and the next, and the next.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

The body count included the full six-man rogue team of former CSO agents, or whoever the hell they were.

Senior Chief Salantino hadn’t kept anyone alive to ask questions. He’d just dropped them like the terrorist scum they’d proven themselves to be. And he’d made sure the bodies would not be recovered.

He stood now, his clothes covered with blood from nearly twenty-four hours of assisting Rick with emergency medical aid. The SEALs had only left their improvised hospital when word came down that a Corporate Nation Medical Team was on its way, due to arrive within the hour. That meant there’d be CN mediators tagging along, which meant there’d be a full company of contractor-run security forces as well.

And neither Salantino nor Shane wanted to be anywhere in the vicinity when
they
made the scene.

Magic, Owen, Rick, and the senior had to hump it back over the border, on foot, for their story to line up.

Only Shane could wait here for the helo extraction.

But Magic in particular was loathe to leave him there alone.

“Time,” the senior said.

“Last chance,” Magic told Shane.

Shane held out his hand, well aware that this was the last opportunity he’d have to talk to his friend without others listening in and monitoring every word. At best, for a good long time. At worst, for the rest of his soon-to-be worthless life. “Good luck in OTS, Dean.”

Magic clasped Shane’s hand. It was more than a handshake. It was a promise. A vow. A pledge.

“You know I’d follow you anywhere, sir.” It was the most respectful
sir
Shane had ever heard fall from Magic’s irreverent lips. “If you ever need anything.
Any
thing …”

“That means a lot to me,” Shane said quietly as he released his friend’s hand. “Thank you.”

Of course Magic couldn’t leave it like that. “I fucking hate you, douchebag,” he said. “And—fair warning—I just might take you up on that whole marrying-Ashley thing.”

Shane laughed as Magic walked away. “Good luck with that, too. And by the way …? She loves me. None of this is over until it’s over.”

Magic nodded, but when he glanced back at Shane, it was clear in his eyes, and written all over his face. The fat lady had sung, and the curtain was coming down.

And a half hour later, as Shane heard the extraction helo thrumming overhead, as he injected himself—this time for real—with that dose of the heavy-duty painkiller
that Rick had given him, he knew it wouldn’t be long now before the hammer came down, too.

As the drug dulled his senses and surrounded him with a cushion of warmth and odd indifference, he was pulled aboard the gunship, where the medics immediately went to work on his ankle. And Shane knew they were going above and beyond to keep it from becoming a career-ending injury.

But Magic was right. His superiors up the chain of command were going to crucify him.

It was over.

He
was over.

And in the last few moments before Shane succumbed to unconsciousness, he wondered what would become of him, where he would go, what he would do.

As hard as it was going to be to lose Ashley, her impending, inevitable defection would sadden but not crush him.

But losing his command? Being dishonorably discharged?

Being a SEAL was everything to him. It had defined him since he was barely even ten years old. He’d worked, his entire life, to be the best of the best.