Haur glanced to Daniels with the binoculars. “May I borrow them when you are done?”
Though the man’s distrust screamed, he handed them over.
The dog watched the exchange, panting, her breath puffs of blue in the predawn hours. Head down, she jerked her snout back toward the village. Keen eyes locked on the village, as if she’d seen something. She seemed to be processing the scene as much as her handler. With a small whimper, she scooted back.
“Counting at least twenty, maybe thirty, unfriendlies,” came Watterboy’s report.
“Roger,” Candyman said from his left.
Haur saw only stubby figures, then zoomed in, almost able to see facial features. Half of the men on guard were Russians. He just cared that Jianyu was down there. With Russians. That made Haur tremble. China had long been allies with the Russians, but for them both to be here, it meant trouble. Both for China—they would have to deal with the bad publicity that would come out of attacking American forces—and for the Americans, who would have to face two enemies.
He returned the NVGs to Daniels and hesitated. “Where is your dog?”
Daniels glanced over his shoulder. “Call of nature. Don’t eat the yellow snow.”
Chuckles rumbled through the area, which confounded Haur. Were they not aware of what trouble they were walking into? The buildings were huddled and around them were sentries. “Impossible.”
“What’s that?” Daniels asked.
“There are too many. How can you get in and get this girl without being seen?”
“We’ll get the girl,” Candyman said. “Whether we’re seen or not is another matter. Besides, haven’t you heard? This is our lucky day.”
“You will need more than luck.” Haur knew the type of man they were facing, the ruthless determination to do what he felt was right, to bring glory to China.
“We’ve got that, too.” Candyman held up his weapon. “M4, M16. Who can stand against us?”
“China. Jianyu. Any enemy who wants you dead.”
“God’s got our backs.” Daniels stilled, uncertainty in his eyes. He did not believe what he’d said. Were the answers so meaningless? Did he not understand?
“That and my M4.” Candyman snorted.
“Quiet!” Watterboy hissed. With quick hand signals, he sent four men scurrying to the west and another four southeast. “Putman, how’s our coms?”
“Working on it.”
“Get it up. We need Command.”
Next to him, Daniels propped himself up on one arm and looked around. “Hey …” He pushed himself upright.
Haur knew what he was thinking. “Daniels, where is your dog?”
Daniels tugged a whistle out and blew on it. No sound came out.
Watterboy keyed his mic. “Heads-up. Trinity’s missing.”
“We’ve got movement in the village,” Candyman said. “And the incline.”
Eyes snapped to that spot, Haur itched to look through the NVGs, but Daniels had already moved out to find his dog. “It is a good spot for a sniper, yes?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Moving kind of fast.”
“Yeah … and agile …”
“Got a bead,” someone else said.
“Take the sho—”
“No!” Heath shouted. “It’s Trinity!”
Rifle fire cracked the darkness.
Small Village in the Hindu Kush
15 Klicks from Chinese Border
T
he report of the rifle fire echoed through the valley and bounced back to Heath, thudding against his chest. “No!” He lunged at the Green Beret who’d taken the shot. He tackled him and flipped him over, straddling the guy. “Tell me you didn’t hit her! Tell me!”
“I … I don’t know. I just saw snow dust.”
Heath flung himself to the ground, grabbing for his NVGs.
Oh God. Please … please don’t let him have hit her
. Back and forth, he scoured the pocked slope.
“Anyone got a line of sight on Trinity?”
Heath’s pulse roared as the green field blurred. His hands shook with rage and panic. “I can’t find her.”
Lord, God … Lord, God …
He zoomed in. Rocks. Shrubs. Snow. Branches.
Lord, I know You didn’t bring us out here for her to die on that hill. Please! For her, I’ll beg
.
A sickening feeling dropped his heart into his stomach. The thought of her getting sniped … of her bleeding out … He was going to be sick.
A flicker of movement.
His heart vaulted back into his chest. He whipped back to the left, where the movement occurred. Rocks. Snow. Heath eased the whistle to his lips and blew. Scanned.
C’mon, c’mon
. He blew it again. Scanned.
Eerie green eyes locked on him.
“Got her!” His heart now flipped into his throat, choking him with elation as she stared in his direction, her sensitive ears picking up the high-frequency whistle. He gave her the signal to return.
“You got her?”
“Yeah.” Heath mentally prodded Trinity to head back. Her beautiful head trained in his direction, then flitted around, then back to the village. He blew the return signal again.
Instead, she slunk farther down the slope.
“No,” he said to her, knowing she couldn’t hear that. “Crap!” He pushed to his feet. “She’s broken behavior. Something’s wrong.” He trudged through the snow, each step dropping him knee-deep. “I’m going after her.”
“Whoa, no.” Watters caught his arm. “No way, Ghost.”
“Back off, Watters. I know you didn’t want me on this trip, and if I die going after her, you won’t have to worry about us anymore.” Everything in Heath pulsed with conviction. “You wouldn’t leave one of your men behind, and I’m not leaving her. She’s
everything
to me.”
“I know, Heath.” Watters touched his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to come because I didn’t want you getting hurt. But you’re here. Now, you’re part of my team. And I won’t let you go into a situation that could get you killed. Let’s make a plan.”
Pulse lowering, Heath nodded. “You make the plan. I’ll meet you down there.”
“Look, if she’s gone rogue—”
“No.” Heath drew in a frigid, ragged breath. “Not rogue. She broke behavior. It’s different.”
“How?”
“Rogue means she’s not responding to commands. She responded to my whistle command, but then—I didn’t see it at the time, but she was trying to tell me she caught a scent. It’s not normal for her to go without me, but she is trained to work off-lead. That’s what she’s doing—working off-lead.” Realization dawned like the sun rising into its zenith. “She’s only done that one other time—with Jia at Bagram. I don’t know why, but she’s taken a liking to this woman.”
Just like me
. “I have to believe she must’ve seen her or can detect her scent.”
“That’s a stretch, don’t you think?”
They’d worked together enough for Heath to know Watters’s words held hope, that he wanted to believe what Heath was saying. “Not as big as you might think.” Heath grinned. “I’m going down. Cover me, okay? Then bring in the cavalry.”
“Candyman, Java, Scrip, Pops—take the spook,” Watters said, never taking his gaze off Heath. “Go with Ghost. Keep coms open. Rocket and everyone else, you’re with me. We’ll flank the south.”
“Hooah,” Candyman said.
“Remember, orders are STK.” Never doubt that Watters was a soldier. “Let’s find the girl and bring her back.”
“Lock and load.” Candyman’s grin never faded.
Heath nodded to the team leader. “Thank you.”
“You’re wasting air,” Watterboy said with a grin.
Heath jogged, as much as the deep snow would allow, toward the place he’d seen Trinity scaling the jagged terrain. Alive with the mission of finding and securing his girl, he struggled against the elements that impeded speed. An impression in the snow snagged his attention.
“That her trail?” Candyman voiced Heath’s thoughts.
“That’s her.” Heath used her already-carved path down the slope. Sneak of a dog had plowed through this with such speed he hadn’t even seen her doing it. Nobody had. And here, he felt like he was trying to wade through a tub of sour cream. Or quick-drying cement. Frigid wetness chomped into his legs, his pants wet and sticking to him. But he plowed on, determined to find Trinity.
And Jia.
He prayed that what had lured Trinity into breaking behavior and going into the village alone was the woman. The two had taken to each other as if they’d met before. Which was ludicrous. Their first encounter had been at the base. He was good with faces. Rarely did he forget one.
As the snow crowded around the first line of defense the rocks formed, Heath slowed. Searched for Trinity’s trail.
“It’s like she disappeared,” Candyman said.
“Or jumped.” Heath’s gaze hit on a spot to the right. Paw prints on a rock. Then another trail to the left where the snow wasn’t as deep.
“It’s like she knew it wasn’t as deep.”
“She did. She’s a dog—she can smell the earth beneath the snow easier.” Fueled by finding her trail again, Heath maneuvered his way. Behind him, the rest of the team did the same.
“Down, down!” Candyman hissed into the predawn morning. “Movement, ten o’clock.”
Heath’s gaze went left. Sure enough, a sentry stalked toward a tree, vanished behind it. What would a sentry be doing way out here? A few seconds later, the man reemerged, then slogged back to camp, whistling.
“Clear,” Candyman whispered.
Heath used Trinity’s tracks through the foot-deep snow to hide his own steps as much as possible, leading the men in the same path to hide their numbers. Moving on, Heath hopped down a two-foot drop. This was where Trinity hesitated, then ignored his whistle call. He searched for signs of blood. Had the shooter hit her?
“No blood,” he muttered as he looked around.
“Then I guess that means you’re not going to kill Scrip.” Candyman grinned to the man behind him.
“I’m sorry, man. I thought it was a sentry or a wild cat.”
“As long as she’s not hurt, I’ll let you live,” Heath teased.
“Then let’s make sure that’s the case.”