***Trigger Warning - References to Human Trafficking Activities***
"Hands above your head...Hold them straight"
Clay cringes watching the scene unfold from a short distance away. This is not going to go well.
He braces himself, waiting for the situation to step off, unsure of how exactly he can intervene without making things worse.
To his great surprise Sonny begrudgingly obeys instructions and raises his arms, extending them up above his head as directed.
"Straighter" the officer's voice is monotone, seemingly unaware of the hornets nest he is poking.
"They . are . straight" Sonny's tone is a clear and biting warning to anyone in the vicinity that the Texan is about 5 seconds away from the end of his very limited ability to play nice.
Clay on the other hand grins and waves cheerily at his teammate, a man on the edge and probably about to lose it in the middle of the airport security screening.
He mimes taking a photo as Sonny holds his position, legs spread, arms stretched above his head, or at least as much as the heavily muscle bound man's shoulders will allow. Sonny drops his hand quickly to send a definitive gesture in Clay's direction and then when chided brings them back up with a huff of frustration.
The screening officer either figures out that his current victim really is actually this inflexible, or perhaps subconsciously senses the imminent threat to his life, because he finally gets on with it and pushes the button for the full body scanner to do his thing.
A few rotations later and Sonny is allowed to clamber out of the chamber and is made to stand on the mat awaiting and all clear of his scan. Bravo 3 shifts his weight from foot to foot in agitation muttering complaints about torpedo tubes and radiation waves that are loud enough for Clay and anyone in a 10 ft radius to hear.
Clay ignores him though, instead scanning the room for the rest of their team. His eyes catch immediately on a frustrated Jason stuck in line behind a large family with several small children and more strollers and contraptions than arms. A few lines over and already passed the scanner he can see Trent arguing with the screener over what looks like a small pair of medical scissors the medic evidently felt he couldn't go onboard without. Clay can hear their normally unflappable medic's voice raising with each argument varying between the fact that the scissors are part of a first aid kit, are barely sharp enough to cut gauze, and that he could find 15 other ways to kills someone on board with only the emesis bag. Unsurprisingly the security screeners are looking more and more concerned by the second.
A sharp bark catches his attention and draws his gaze over to the opposite side of security he sees Brock stuck in his own argument with airport personnel about Cerb. The normally quiet man is emphatically pointing to the documentation Clay assumes indicates Cerberus' status as a working dog. He knows Brock regularly flies with the dog when they are on leave to visit his parents and that their K-9 officer regularly gets to enjoy a comfy spot in the emergency exit row with his handler rather than below board with the rest of the regular mutts. It appears the airline agents are not being quite so understanding this time and he can see the faint flush of colour rising up around Brock's neck, the only indication you will ever find to suggest Bravo 5 is agitated.
Sonny, finally gets the all clear and a half hearted wave through. He storms away from security and brushes past Clay's observation post in a hurry with a muttered "this is why we don't fly commercial….. I need a damn drink"
Clay looks back around at the chaos his team is causing in their various locations and can't help but think that his friend isn't wrong. There probably is a very good reason their team usually travels on their own military transport. In fact in all the missions he's run with Bravo he can only think of one other where they have had to abandon their hammocks and beer coolers for too small leg room, awkward small talk and tomato juice. The last time was for the team to arrive with as minimal presence as possible into Serbia to work on the combined task force with the local intelligence experts. This time he is less on board because as he understands this whole snaffu is the Portugeese Government's way of saving face. Supposedly it's much more palatable for people to see a team of "consultants" arriving on a lufthansa flight than a military plane dropping off a highly specialized military team to come in and save the day.
At this rate though it seems like those "consultants" are going to cause an international incident before they even leave the United States. Clay tries to decide if any of the possible ways this could go wrong will require paperwork that Jason can gleefully dump on him in what he's pretty sure is hazing seeing as he's never seen Ray doing any before.
Resigning himself to that future headache makes his decision all too easy and he abandons the rest of his team to sort their shit out and follows after the ornery Texan to find a bar before they have to board.
In the end the flight is actually smoother than he expected. He lucks out and gets an aisle seat and the middle seat amazingly goes unoccupied stays vacant next to him. He ends up with an extra armrest and the ability to get up and stretch his legs as often as he wants. Clay uses his unexpected freedom to wander the plane and smirk at Sonny who ended up wedged in the middle seat with a crying baby in the row behind him and is the very picture of misery. He returns to his own seat with a grin, stretches his legs over into the middle and tries to imagine he is swinging in his hammock.
He wakes up when the plane touches down, surprised to have dozed off. Being reunited with and going through the copious amounts of red tape to clear their gear also goes surprisingly smoothly considering their checked baggage holds a lot more than just clothes and toiletries.
They walk out of the Lisbon airport into a bright sunny day with people and cars bustling all around them. The team proceeds to their designated pick up point, trying and failing to look inconspicuous. Even in plain clothes, with just the team and Cerb eyes are constantly drifting their way. They shift in place awkwardly wishing their pick up would hurry up. Eric and the support team arrived yesterday so one of them should be here shortly to help them get organized and to the center they will be operating out of.
Sure enough a shiny black van pulls up and honks and the team drags their shit toward it in a hurry eager to get out of the limelight. As they get close they can make out the driver's silhouette through the tinted windows and see his arm reach up to the control panel above his head. At his push, the side doors slide open and the trunk raises Trent lets out a low whistle, impressed by the bells and whistles. They waste no time loading up and as Sonny throws his last bag on top he asks "You thinking of trading your bike in for one of these then Trent?"
Trent doesn't dignify Sonny's question with a response. Instead he sidesteps and cuts his antagonizer off forcing Bravo 3 to stumble. By the time Sonny recovers Trent is settling himself comfortably into the last bucket seat with a satisfied smirk. He waits until Sonny is squeezing his way through the narrow gap in the middle to get to the back seat and then stretches out comfortably "Nothing wrong with a mini-van, they have plenty of room for the kids and dogs in the back."
With a loud bark Cerb jumps off Brock's lap on the other bucket seat and clambors back to claim the middle spot between Clay and Sonny. The dog sits proudly and leans over to try to lick Sonny in the face, a gesture that is dodged at the last minute and produces another round of colourful commentary.
The car erupts into laughter leaving Clay once again wondering just how much English that dog really understands.
Their furry teammate's comedic timing is interrupted by Jason opening the front door and going to climb into the passenger seat. He looks up and then stops abruptly and lets out a loud "what the fuck" that causes everyone to tense and reach for weapons they don't have.
A familiar laugh, thoroughly unexpected and out of place in a van in Lisbon, has them relaxing and glancing around in confusion.
Clay's head snaps up, quickly recognizing none other than their very own Ray Perry in the driver's seat, grinning back at them in the rear view mirror as he steers the van smoothly away from the curb.
"Blackburn and I thought you guys might enjoy a familiar face after the long ride. And while Naima and I have so far avoided what is probably our destiny of having a minivan, I have to say this one isn't so bad, its kinda tricked out."
The van erupts into greetings and then some more laughter and good natured ribbing about car choices and Ray's destiny as a minivan driving soccer dad.
Clay smiles along but sits in stunned silence having a bit of trouble regaining his footing enough to fully participate. He isn't sure what's more unexpected Ray here in Portugal or Ray just here period when he isn't supposed to be cleared for another 2 weeks minimum.
Sure his arm is out of the sling now but medically speaking there is no way he could be cleared yet. It's only been 4 weeks since his injury. The thing is that they also haven't really seen the man in that time period either. Spinups kept them busy and the brass found all sorts of creative ways to make use of Ray in his downtime. He sent them a few updates (and beach pictures) while he was on a training excursion with Green Team down in Florida. Then another from a specialized training course up at Norfolk. But still, he can't be cleared yet can he? Is this his way of announcing his return to the team? He can't be cleared, but why the hell else would be here though?
He tunes back in to hear Ray giving all the answers he was lacking in his confused wayward rambling mental detective work. Ray explains that he is here working with Blackburn and Davis as an advisor to the havoc base team. Something about building competencies and lending expertise while he still isn't fully cleared.
Clay's stomach unclenches a few notches
And then he feels guilty for his initial less than welcoming and slightly panicked reaction. He should be happy that Ray is back. And he is. It's not like he wanted the man not to come back or anything like that. He has just enjoyed testing himself over the last few weeks and had his mind set on a one or two more missions. As much as he doesn't want Ray to be sidelined with an injury he can't deny he likes the opportunity it presents.
The level of elation from the rest of the team at Ray's return also stings a bit more than it should. He tells himself he's being immature, that their excitement to see Ray is not a reflection of him doing a bad job. He tries not to take it personally. To appreciate that his friend and mentor is back and not read anything past that. And he manages with that…. Most of the time.
He reminds himself that he already had a couple successful missions as bravo two. Two short ones and one more extended one where he thought he filled in Ray's big shoes fairly well.
Clay had tried his best to follow their regular number two's parting advice to him. When it had become obvious Ray wasn't going to roll with the team for a few weeks he caught up to Clay at the gym and gave him either a pep talk, or a warning, Clay still wasn't really sure which one. Maybe some of both. Regardless, he heard the man's message loud and clear. Number two has to support number one. Full stop. No exceptions. Clay knows he can at times push the boundaries and is sometimes a little overly prone to starting with the assumption that he's right and someone else is wrong, but he's done his best to curb his natural instincts to question and contradict even if on a few occasions he felt like maybe there was another angle they should have considered.
He thought he was doing all right.
But now the insecure part of his brain tosses out the idea that maybe Ray is actually here because he wasn't doing as well as he thought That maybe Jason set this all up because he just couldn't wait another couple weeks to get Ray back by his side. That maybe Clay wasn't enough for him or for the team.
Except that that is just stupid and completely paranoid.
Jason had clearly been just as surprised as the rest of the team.
"Hey, Earth to Clay. Anybody home?"
Sonny's voice breaks him free from the rapidly spinning hamster wheel of panic that his brain was running loops around. He shakes his head, trying to clear it.
"Yeah, sorry didn't sleep much on the plane"
Quinn's eyes narrow at him, scrutinizing for a second and then with a shrug thankfully lets it go rather than prying further. Sonny takes the bulshit excuse in stride and runs with it.
"Well get a power nap in then cuz Ray was just telling us about these alleys full of tiny little bars, everybody just gets their drinks and mingles in the streets. Sounds like we may have to check it out at some point."
Clay nods and tries to portray an acceptable amount of enthusiasm about that. It does sound cool. And it will be nice to have the whole team back together again, especially in a place like this. Hopefully their schedule allows for some downtime after they get the job done.
Here's hoping for a smooth mission, where he can show Ray that he took his words to heart and is filing in his shoes well.
He closes his eyes and leans back into the seat. Taking a few deep breaths and trying to shake off the unease thats ramping back up again.
He is happy Ray is back.
He is.
It's just going to be different now with the man here watching his every move. Judging. Comparing. Being evaluated by someone who does the job effortlessly and flawlessly since long before he was even a part of this team.
It's like a final test he didn't know he had to study for.
It turns out it doesn't matter anyways because when they get there it becomes apparent that they are going nowhere anytime soon.
The pop quiz gets postponed.
Their mission is on standby pending approval.
And initially Clay is grateful for the reprieve. For a chance to settle and get his head on straight.
Except as they are stalled for hours and then what turns into days it becomes clear he isn't the only one battling some personal demons on this one.
Normally extra time in a well developed and generally very safe country would be paradise, an unexpected gem of a mission. Gucci in all aspects and certainly a rarity compared to most of the places they get sent too.
But things start to unravel quickly as they stand around waiting and it's not hard to tell why.
The picture of the Nigerian president's young daughter on the tac board is a solemn reminder of the stakes here. Of what every second of delay is likely costing.
This poor girl, and who knows how many others like her, was in the wrong place at the wrong time and somehow found herself caught up in a renowned firearm trafficking networks newest money making venture. Years of successfully moving guns and missiles through Europe and down into the heart of the middle East and Africa was apparently no longer good enough. Even transnational criminal organizations feel the need to grow and evolve it would appear. This group is now testing the waters of the much more lucrative, much more profitable movement of human beings with disturbing efficiency and a reckless regard for human lives.
Intel tracked a shipment of approximately 40 women, if you can call them that, arriving into the Lisbon port yesterday. Based on the timeline and what Intel has been able to piece together of the networks major transportation routes and methods they are fairly confident the president's daughter should be in it.
They also have a location. Well two locations actually, both identified as a part of the commodity chain that makes use of Lisbon as a port city. The first one and the current focus of their attention is the arrival center where the containers are being brought once they come off the water from overseas. This first location was described to them as essentially a freight forwarding center in that its being used to hide the true destination and movement of the containers much the same way people use re-shippers for parcels that they don't want connected back to them. Intel has so far been unable to prove whether or not the freight company is aware of what they are receiving and moving. Smart money and a cynical world view says yes. Another thing that's still frustratingly unclear is exactly how long the shipments stay at this arrival point before moving on to the next warehouse less than a mile and a half away where they are presumably staged and prepared for further distribution to locations all across Europe and to a new life that awaits them.
The work that's been done so far to map out the commodity chain is impressive even if the terminology used rubs Clay the wrong way. He grits his teeth through most of the briefing listening to human beings repeatedly referred to as "a shipment", or "the commodity". He knows the analysts mean well and that distancing themselves from the emotion is what helps them breakdown the situation effectively. Still he greatly appreciates when Lisa takes over and starts talking about things from a tactical perspective and actually makes reference to the lives that are at risk.
The problem is that the Portuguese government don't seem to quite grasp that concept either, that lives are on the line here. Or perhaps they do and they just don't care. From the muttering he's overheard and the evident frustration on their usually unflappable team of officers, it appears to be more of the latter. The government and its diplomacy efforts with Nigeria means they don't want them to move in and risk disrupting the known chain until they have definitively located the president's daughter. Because heaven forbid they save hundreds of current and future victims but lose the one who's father matters the most politically. Lisa and her team are locked in a battle trying to explain grey terms like supply chain analysis and confidence estimates to a bunch of uninformed politicians who would rather deal in black and white and only care about the analysis of the risk that could blow back on them if this goes sideways. Still if anyone can find a way to meld the analytics, the politics and the true human cost and convince a bunch of paper pushers and diplomates to pull their heads out of their asses, he has faith in Lisa and Blackburn to get it done. To make them understand that there are still some gaping holes and unknowns about the pipeline including no shortage of uncertainty about how and where the victims get moved once they leave Lisbon. The harsh reality is that if they miss the window here they may never find them again. The "shipments" may be long gone to places where even tier one operators can't help them.
And yet in the meantime they wait.
And try not to think about what the delays mean.
Of what kind of vile conditions the victims are probably being held in held in.
Of the possibility of the containers slipping through their grasp.
Of the people inside running out of food, or water, or suffocating.
Of young women and probably even some children locked in a container. Of the President's daughter and other girls just like her, like Emma, like Jameleeh who have all been wrenched from their parents and had their lives endangered to turn a quick profit that will fund God knows what other atrocities.
As the days stretch on those doubts starts to fester and any and all good will fostered by Ray's return to the team evaporates quickly.
Jason is a ball of energy fired up with a hell of a short fuse. He paces, he rants, and he bites the head off of anyone who dares to interact with him.
Even Ray's sunny disposition darkens and sours. The man spends hours cooped up with Eric and Davis, throwing himself into his new role and obsessively trying to find some angle that will get the information they need to get this op to be a "go".
Clay doesn't have a daughter but even still the concept of this mission sets his skin crawling. He understands their desperation to get moving and doesn't begrudge Jason for being a little extra snippy. Or for taking it out on his team and anyone else who happens to get in his way.
Instead he channels his inner Ray and tries to run interference a bit. See if he can soften and defuse some situations before they fully catch fire. He's just not quite as talented at it so most of the time it usually means that whatever blowback there is ends up aimed at him. He's not sure if Ray just usually bears that burden,or if this is a special case, or hell if Ray is just next level talented that he can somehow divert Jason from his targets without ending up as collateral damage. He stows that question away and resolves to watch more carefully in the future and learn some better strategies to deal and until then he just tells himself to get a thick skin and not to take it personally.
He does however have a little harder time brushing it off when Jason spends all his time holeing up with Blackburn, and Davis and Ray and forgets to bring him along. Or when he does remember to but Clay still ends up standing there awkwardly and basically invisible watching Jason immediately fall back into old habits of using Ray as a sounding board instead of his current number two.
He tells himself to let it go. To stop worrying about himself because they have bigger problems right now. Clay focuses his energy on the team instead trying to keep everyone occupied and out of trouble while they wait.
It's a poor compensation but they do now have time to check out the impressive cultural scene in Lisbon. They go out and try to enjoy the vibe of the locals and tourists all intermingled in the cobblestone streets aimlessly wandering with their drinks from bar to bar. People litter the alleys enjoying the music and evening air blissfully unaware of the cost of this particular passage of time. The four of them aren't so lucky. Even a few drinks in he is still thinking containers and redtape. However once Brock and Sonny discover a strong new appreciation for a Portugese Brandy called Medronhos, Trent and Clay are sufficiently distracted and have their hands full enough trying to keep the pair out of trouble. They impressively manage to corral them both home safely and before curfew (or close enough) so him and Trent take that as a small win for the day.
When the next day also brings no hint of movement, Clay finds a place where you can rent little yellow go-kart cars that look like something straight out of SuperMarioKart. He somehow convinces Sonny and Brock to go with him to ride what Trent deems videogame death traps. Jason also declines, opting to insult the organizer rather than the machinery. Clay isn't deterred though and takes gleeful pleasure in using his not at all very good Portuguese to ask the owner to give him and Sonny a two person one. He then blames a language barrier and takes great enjoyment in forcing Sonny to ride in the sidecar like a child. The man barely fits, is not at all comfortable, and keeps up a steady stream of impressive language as they whizz around town on a GPS guided tour that they mostly ignore in favour of their own creative route.
On day three they go on a self directed Egg Tart Tour. Clay put his research skills to use and found five bakeries said to have the best pastries in the city and they go out taste testing. This time he manages to convince Trent to come along, it is a scientific experiment after all.
They are part way through the third and best by far batch when their phones announce the long awaited news that they have been greenlit.
Finally.
They return to base and the team bustles around getting ready. Its barely even necessary though because the reality is they have been prepped for days. They are just re-doing it now out of habit, and because it helps pass the time and takes some of the sting out of the last agonizing wait for darkness to fall.
Clay's also had those same few days to get his head on straight. To put aside his insecurities and petty jealousies and remind himself there is only one thing that matters on this mission. And it's up on that whiteboard. And it's all the other faces that aren't. It's certainly not his ambition, or his ego…. Those don't matter. They can't matter.
He tightens up his gear, loading and locking with complete efficiency. Its rhythmic and soothing. Something he's done a thousand times and will hopefully do a thousand more. He looks around and sees the same determination and focus in his teammates eyes and is satisfied with that. The team is ready.
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Apologies for the delay. Got a bit stuck on this one. My brain wanted to write parts of every other chapter BUT this one. So if there is any consolation the rest of the story is fairly well fleshed out now.
I promise the action and of course some whump is coming next chapter.
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