Bitter Waters
Part One
"Look out!"
The sniper's bullet hit him square in the thigh as he pushed the younger man aside.
"Paul!" Blake shouted as he witnessed the exchange.
"Get going! Don't worry about me," Paul Blaisdell said as he pushed himself off the ground and hobbled as best he could to cover.
"We're not leaving you behind," Kermit Griffin stated and grabbed their team leader under his arms and practically carried him to safety.
"That's a nasty wound," Kermit unbuckled his belt and pulled on it until it came loose. He wrapped it around Paul's thigh to create a makeshift tournaquit to stop the bleeding.
"The bullet may have hit an artery. He's loosing a lot of blood."
"I'll radio for help. We've got to get him out of here."
"This mission should have been scrubbed. Who was it that gave you those sources?"
"I think it was Styles," Blake said.
"That man's a menace. There's been more deaths under his command than any other."
"Still, the agency sees every mission that he's ever done as a success. 'Everyone looses a few men,' that's what they said, so long as the mission is complete. Well, not on my watch. The price is too high, the risks too great. Augh!"
"Take it easy, Paul. We'll get out of this."
Kermit and Blake worked to make Paul comfortable. They did their best to hide their tracks but with Paul's wound, it was going to be difficult to hide the blood trail from patrols. Kermit left their hiding place and took out his portable shovel and when he found Paul's blood, he scatted leaves, dirt, and other debris over it. He worked backwards from 100 yards, almost to the perimeter of the forest where they entered.
'That should keep the patrols from finding us until the transport gets here. I hope the information we got is worth the risk. This cloak and dagger stuff is a crap shoot.'
Kermit entered their hiding place from a different direction to keep his tracks covered.
'I've made it more difficult for our friends out there. It's going to take a couple of blood hounds to find us with the way I've scattered the trail."
"Good work Kermit. Now all we have to do is wait."
It was two more hours before the transport reached them. Once it did, two men came out to give them cover so they could make it to safety while the others helped get the wounded aboard. Once Paul Blaisdell was secure along with the rest, the transport made its way out of enemy territory.
A few hours later, Paul Blaisdell was out of surgery and Kermit was being escorted into Style's office.
"Looks like your group blew your mission," Styles stated.
"Like hell," Kermit stated and pulled out the envelope.
"I don't think you understand," Styles began. "I thought your team always came out without a scratch. You lost two men. And nearly lost your team leader. I'd say that was sloppy work."
Kermit fumed behind his trademark glasses. It appeared that Styles was trying to put the blame on Blaisdell for his incompetence with receiving less than reliable information. "The sources we received underestimated the number of guards at the compound. We managed to get in, but it wasn't easy . . ."
"Easy . . . You expect every mission to be easy?"
"That's not what I meant."
"If you think that mission was hard, you haven't faced hard yet."
"You're talking as if you're taking over the team?"
"I am, and you don't know the half of it."
"Blaisdell isn't going to like this," Kermit softly growled.
"Paul is being retired, along with Blake. They're getting too old. You on the other hand have the makings of a great mercenary. If you harden that heart of yours a bit."
"Like yours," Kermit replied.
"If you think so."
"Not likely," Kermit stated. 'I've seen the results of your missions. Innocent people die."
"No one is innocent," Styles said. "You'll learn that under my command. Here."
Kermit caught the folder that Styles tossed in his direction.
"That's your next mission. Read it over carefully. Our sources tell us that a band of Chinese terrorists are recruiting children in Northern California. You're to find their weapons cache and destroy it. You're to contact a Mr. Dao. His men will take care of the terrorists and rescue the children."
"Who is this Mr. Dao?" Kermit questioned.
"He's with the Chinese government, everything's in the file. And take those ridiculous sunglasses off when you come into my office."
"Can't, doctor's orders," Kermit lied and gave Styles a toothy grin that was more of a challenge than anything else. He wasn't about to let Styles have the upper hand and reveal what he really thought of him. The sunglasses at one time had been prescribed for his eyes from glare after suffering from flash burns to his face.
"They suit you," Paul had said. "Don't ever take them off. They make you look more menacing."
Kermit never took them off again except in private when he slept, took a shower, or while making love to a beautiful woman. After two years, the sunglasses became a part of him. He replaced a pair or two when they were broken or lost in the course of his missions, but he would be damned if he allowed someone like Styles tell him he couldn't wear them.
"I said take them off," Styles said, his voice going hard.
"You'll have to pry them off of me, Sir," Kermit growled, being as menacing as he could despite the fact that he was shaking inside.
"I could put you on report for disobeying a direct order."
"That's your choice, but the sunglasses stay right where they are." Kermit rose taking the file that Styles gave him. "Is there anything else?"
"No, get out of here and let me get some work done."
'Paper pushers,' Kermit muttered under his breath.
Continues with Part 2