Endless Flames (Surviving Ashes, Book Four) (24 page)

“Jacob’s in good hands,” Berke reassured her, holstering his Sig Sauer 1911. He was also outfitted in his issue green digital utilities, match Extreme Cold Weather (ECW) Gortex field jacket, black leather gloves, H-Harness for his holster, and ammo pouches for the 1911 and his M4. He certainly looked like he was back in the Corps, with the little exception of his haircut. He’d packed a small rucksack with all the sundry items that he might need during the short raid, including a med-kit with extra sutures, two MREs, cleaning gear for his weapons, and a poncho liner. Jacob might very well be better off with him instead of staying behind. “He’s fine.”

“I know that,” Maxie snapped, immediately regretting her reaction.

Maxie sighed as she reached around Berke for a carbine style version of the AR rifles they would all be carrying. Using the same weapons allowed them to exchange magazines in a pinch, a fact that just might save their lives if they were involved in a prolonged firefight.

If they were ambushed, Berke had told her that they’d been instructed as Marines to fight through to the last man. They would not pull back to regroup like the heavier mechanized forces had been taught.

Marines fought differently. They were always at the pointy end of the spear with little in the way of supporting arms. Therefore, their training reflected that.

Berke had told her these things so that she would understand why they did what they did in a combat situation. When it happened out in the field of battle, he wouldn’t have time to slow down and explain to her why they were doing what he’d need her to do. She was to follow their directions without question—instant obedience to orders. It was how they would survive.

Right now, Berke sure as hell didn’t need her whining about Jacob when he was safe and sound inside a warm sanctuary while Van was most likely cold, hungry, and in pain. They had a mission and that’s what they needed to focus on.

“Let’s just bring Van home and eliminate this threat once and for all to prevent future incursions by these same self-serving assholes,” Maxie managed to get out without saying anything more about Jacob.

They were standing inside the armory vault in front of one of the cages that housed numerous equipment racks. There were copious amounts of weapons and firearms at their disposal, from pistols to tactical rifles and abundant magazines, as well as speed loaders with plentiful 5.56mm ammo cans. On the far side of the vault were benches with multiple turret and progressive ammunition presses, shot shell presses, and plastic bins filled with various grain weight bullets in most calibers. There were also cabinets marked with several powder types and a separate one listing multiple sized-primers with manufacturer designations.

Berke’s own supply of reloading equipment from his range had been added to the already impressive collection of gear and specialized tools. This was a gunsmith’s wet dream, but the resident gunsmith had other things on his mind at the moment.

“Tank monitored the radio frequencies the entire night and there hadn’t been a word from Allman regarding what demands he’s requiring in exchange for Van.” Berke reiterated the information Maxie had already been given, but it was as if he understood the recap caused her to be in the right frame of mind. Similar to a tactical briefing given just before a breach on a barricaded subject in the case of law enforcement…it was time to get her mind right. “We’re just wasting time by sitting on our asses while these bastards hold all the cards.”

Maxie sheathed a K-bar Marine fighting knife in its sheath that she’d secured to her utility belt with a snap, inhaling deeply to steady her nerves. She kept the cuffs, pepper spray, and her asp. She canned her usual service weapon for a Springfield XD Model in .45 ACP she’d managed to fit into her service holster.

They might not be able to share magazines, because hers was not the same single stack style the 1911s carried, but they would share the same type ammo and they could always carry extra magazines to cycle through their weapons. Cargo pockets on their utilities always came in handy for collecting empty magazines in a hurry.

It wasn’t like this type of mission was customary for Maxie’s old position. She might have gone on a drug raid a time or two, but this type of operation had been reserved for the Staties, Rangers, and federal agents back in Texas. She didn’t want to think about what could go wrong, especially because of whom they were dealing with.

“Allman just made contact.”

Berke and Maxie both turned to find Kellen standing in the doorway of the vault. His bandaged hand was resting against the steel door and the other was hooked in his black utility belt with his thumb. The stance was in total opposition to the penetrating stare he was leveling at them. It was apparent he knew more than he was letting on and Berke didn’t have the patience to put up with whatever dog and pony show Truman was trying to put on display.

“Spit it out, Truman,” Berke barked, slamming the cage shut and ensuring the lock was engaged. “What does Allman want?”

Maxie thought that was a redundant question due to them already knowing what Allman really wanted…the land, the lodge, the bunker, and everything that came with it except the occupants. The hardest part for them to accept was that as of right at this moment, Allman had the upper hand. Maxie’s stomach lurched at the possible demands that could potentially place numerous people in a precarious situation.

“Allman wants an exchange, as well as a sit-down with Tank.” They all understood what a sit-down meant and there wasn’t a chance in hell that this unit would allow their old ops chief to be put in that type of position. Maxie waited for Berke’s cue to leave before following him to the door. Truman moved to the side, but didn’t lead the way. “You know the only way we’re going to be able to pull in Fairfield Air Force base without Allman knowing is to make a personal visit. Doing it over the radio is all but showing them our hand, no matter what story we try to spin. I’m heading out now.”

Maxie placed a hand on Berke’s arm in surprise. They’d all had a major discussion yesterday afternoon about her suggestion on bringing in the United States military, but they’d put that on the back burner until they had further information regarding Allman’s plan. Were Tank and the rest of the team aware of what Truman was planning?

“No, you’re not,” Berke ordered, taking a stance that Maxie could appreciate. They needed to work as a team and not fragment without near and agreed upon objectives. “We’ll meet up in the security room to discuss our options. This is Van’s life that is on the line, not just some skirmish over land and resources. Besides, that distance would have you gone most of the day just to get there, if not longer. You won’t know when and where the meeting will take place without radio contact and we’re going to need all the firepower we can get when it comes to a confrontation.”

“You and I both see exactly how this is going to go down, as well as the rest of the team.” Truman glanced at the watch on his wrist that looked nothing like the one Maxie was wearing. It was used for more than telling time and Maxie had to wonder exactly who this man was that he would have access to that type of equipment. Hadn’t Prue said something about his group being Special Forces? Or was there something more to this rogue group who’d shown up at the right time and in the right place? “There’s only one place Tank would agree to make an exchange and that’s at the old fisherman’s cabin on the far side of Snowy Peak. Mav won’t want to appear too eager and give away your hand, so he’ll wait another hour before responding. There will be bartering back and forth about meeting Tank face-to-face and Mav will get his way. I figure that’s a two to three hour process. Allman will have to settle for one of you as an alternate in the end. Mason isn’t good at negotiating and Owen will be surveying the area for any tracks indicating an ambush. That leaves you or Mav to have these discussions that Allman’s demanded, maybe even both so you can have each other’s six. The two of you will enter with little to no noise possible, so that leaves out the Mule you rigged or horses. You’ll go on foot and that’s roughly a four-hour trek, longer with Webb in tow.”

“You think you have this all figured out,” Berke surmised, moving forward slightly so Maxie could see Truman’s expression. It was as blank as any professional poker player ever featured on the World Poker Tour (WPT) television show. He believed every word he was saying, but Berke pointed out the flaws. “Allman could be fifty feet outside the checkpoint for all we know, to get the lay of the land. He might very well conduct a raid while we’re sitting flat on our asses drinking coffee and running our mouths. He’s got at least a dozen operatives left that we know have skills that could easily overwhelm and eliminate the young men and women we have positioned around the perimeter if they were without trained assistance. What then, Einstein? We’re no longer playing by the International Law of Land Warfare. Those rules went out the window just about the same time the caldera exploded. It’s strictly guerilla warfare now. These fuck-wits wouldn’t fight fair if their lives depended on it. This prick, Allman, has hit below the belt by taking Van and isn’t above gaining access to the elderly residents and children up at the lodge to leverage against his list of demands. Until we know otherwise, you aren’t taking a gamble and putting the lives of innocent women and children in danger.”

Truman stood there and mulled over the worst-case scenario that Berke had thrown at him, most likely coming to the same conclusion as Maxie. The next few hours could be worse than the eruption that had started it all…and that was saying something. Jacob was in the main lodge and she was second-guessing her decision to leave him there. Maybe she should have had Rosa move down to the…

“Tank will take everyone down to the bunker within the hour. They’ll have finished clearing the tunnel leading from the lodge to the bunker’s second floor,” Truman announced, unaware he’d just eased Maxie’s main concern. His next statement didn’t have nearly the same impact. “As for what Allman might have planned, we won’t know until it happens. Either way, I’m bringing in some friends to clean up whatever mess is made from the fallout.”

Even Maxie could see through Kellen’s blank expression that he was leaving something out. It was the odd uptick at the end of his words, similar to asking a question instead of making a declaration. She didn’t like how thick the air had become with tension.

“Friends?” Berke inquired with a warning that indicated Kellen wouldn’t like his response if the answer received was affirmative. “Literally or figuratively? Because I’ve got to tell you that it sure as hell better be the latter considering Mav mentioned that those guys at Fairfield have never heard of you or your buddies.”

Truman cracked what appeared to be a smile, though the slight lifting in one corner was quite sinister. Maxie could literally feel every muscle in Berke’s body tighten in response and she fought the urge to palm her weapon. That would only further incite a volatile situation. She was partly responsible for this because of her suggestion they should bring in the military to deal with one of the government’s own rogue elements, but she’d never imagined it would come down to this.

“A funny thing happens when you leave the service, whether by choice or retirement.” Truman looked down at the bandage on his hand, holding it up as if it were an example. It certainly was. “Matters of national interest are taken out of your hands because it no longer concerns you.”

“Kellen, a natural disaster is what has taken our choices away,” Maxie stated, hoping to add some common sense to the conversation. Berke was right. They needed to make decisions as a group. It was the only way to come out alive. “I suggested contacting the military because I think they can help us, but Berke’s right about us needing to decide as a group who should make that trip. Your expertise as a skilled combatant is needed here.”

“I’m the only one among us that they’re going to listen to, Ms. Denikin,” Kellen stated in such a respectful manner that it was easy to see he had somewhat of a decent demeanor underneath those barriers. “Tell Dean, Ann, and Ace where I’ve gone. They’ll understand what they need to do.”

“Don’t do this, Truman,” Berke warned, taking a step forward as Kellen turned on his heel.

“It’s a damned good thing I don’t take orders from you,” Kellen remarked, maintaining his stride as if he didn’t think Berke would stop him. He’d been right, especially after hearing Truman’s next words. “He’s my brother, Daniels.”

Truman made it to the end of the corridor where it opened out into a larger tunnel, which might have been roughly twenty feet away before he turned back and made eye contact with Berke.

“As in blood, not bond.”

And just like that, Kellen was gone.

Maxie couldn’t have heard right, because that went against everything she’d ever heard about Van’s childhood. What had Berke told her? Van’s mother had been a teenager whose parents didn’t want to help her or be responsible for another child. She’d run away to New York City and ended up turning tricks to make ends meet. Van had been three years old when his mother had been found in a very similar position as Lou Ann’s body. It had all been recorded in the police records.

Truman couldn’t be Van’s brother. It wasn’t possible.

Berke was left shaking his head in disbelief as he leaned against the limestone wall for support. He made no move to go after Truman. Really, what would have been the point? It was unlikely he could add anything to what he’d already said, and honestly, they’d only be wasting time.

“If it helps, your ass is anything but flat,” Maxie offered up, taking Berke by the hand and following in the footsteps of the one person he most likely wanted to hurt at the moment. Her comment earned her a strained laugh though, just as she’d hoped. “Let’s go, jarhead. We have a fellow Marine to retrieve. What did you say before? We leave no man behind.”