Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight. I'm borrowing her characters, dressing them up in MARPAT, and giving them some guns. BilliCullen and Scooterstale are making sure they're ready for inspection. Oh, and The Black Eyed Peas own Let's Get It Started. I just like to make Alice dance.
June 24
En Route to the Drop Point
Twenty-two nautical miles off the coast of Mogadishu, Somalia
"Night Stalker, this is Venom. Do you copy? Over."
A pulse of static blared through the headsets. "Copy that, Venom. I hear you loud and clear. Send traffic. Over."
"Night Stalker, the bossman requests your status. Over."
From his jumpseat in the rear of the cabin, Edward's head swung toward the cockpit, where his lieutenant currently sat second pilot. Staring straight ahead, Alice scanned the rolling black water below, but even in the darkness of the utility helo's interior, lit only by a pair of dim, red-glowing operational lights along the bulkheads, he could tell she was smirking for all she was worth.
Edward bit his tongue, and then again – this time harder – when Delta team answered back. "Relaying message. Wolf says to tell the Ghost to chill the fuck out. Over."
With a decidedly unlady-like snort, Alice stole a quick glance over her shoulder, just in time to catch her commander's flat look of pure un-amusement. "That's a negative," she said into her mouthpiece, as she simultaneously threw a quick grin and wink to the wide-eyed scientist sitting beside him. "My head is currently attached to my body and I'd like to keep it that way. Your status, if you please. Over."
"Understood. Please inform that we are ETA to DZ four and zero. Will advise when we touch down. Over."
"Roger that, Scooby Doo. Don't get your asses shot. Over."
When her headset squawked again, in the background was the baritone rumble of male laughter. "Wilco, Fairy Girl. Same to you, and good luck hunting. Night Stalker, out."
Directly across the cabin, Emmett checked his rifles – tonight, a pair of decked out M4A1 carbines with close quarters battle receivers instead of his usual heavier-round 240B. Out of habit, he tweaked the laser sights and refitted the suppressors before swapping out the magazines. Despite the noise of the open-door helo, the telltale click-clack of one of the chambers was loud enough to wrench Bella's focus away from Alice.
In full night battle dress – black, non-reflective Nomex flight suit, matching Kevlar helmet, high-powered four-tube NVGs, plus an arsenal of other weapons strapped to his torso and thighs – the staff sergeant looked nothing like the playful giant of a man who'd teased her only yesterday. No, Bella thought, right now, with not an inch of skin showing beneath the charcoal and olive grease paint smeared all over his neck and face, he was something else altogether – something large, violent, and clearly on the bad ass end of the intimidation spectrum.
"You lookin' good!" the big man shouted, flashing her a thumbs up along a row of blacked out teeth.
"If you say so," Bella shouted back, even as her right fist curled tighter around the dark fabric of her flight suit and brushed against the thick webbing of her harness. Ignoring it and mustering a semblance of a smile, she pointed at her face, careful not to mess up the captain's quick handiwork, and then to Emmett's. "Though, I think you're better with the make-up than me." Her nose wrinkled. "You're really pretty tonight."
Emmett's grin wiped off his face as a strangled noise tumbled out of his mouth. Flummoxed, he started to fire something back but stopped mid-syllable. Next to the slack-jawed staff sergeant, Rosalie threw her head back, popping her helmet against the bulkhead, as she belted out a laugh.
"Five points to Doc," Jasper chuckled from the forward port-side door. Like Emmett, in all black and wearing a dozen weapons Bella couldn't even name, he looked like a firefight eager to happen.
Recovering – somewhat – Emmett huffed and chucked something hard and metal at the corporal, which the younger man dodged with ease, but there was an unmistakable twinkle in the staff sergeant's eyes, visible even in the low light. When Rosalie leaned over, her shoulders still shaking, and whispered something in his ear, he nodded, glanced over to Bella, and gave the gunny a not-so-subtle wink.
For a short second, Edward gazed down at the woman beside him, almost forgetting the radio exchange and grinning like they weren't about to drop out of the night sky into a world ruled by warlords, gun runners, and some of the most notorious terrorists on the planet.
When she looked up, cocking a barely seen brow beneath the camo, without thinking, Edward reached over and ran the pad of his thumb along the curve of Bella's bottom lip. At contact, her eyes widened, but she didn't jump or lean away. If anything, she swayed a little closer, likely not even realizing it. Recalling all too well last night on the flight deck, how she had fit so snug and soft and woman against his side as he'd held her until she drifted to sleep, Edward swallowed his grin. Unable to stop himself, he slowly dragged his thumb across her skin again, coming away smudged black, and his voice dropped to just above a whisper. "Had to fix your war paint."
Which, despite its tackiness, Bella was glad she had on, because without it, even in the dark, he'd have seen the giveaway pink of her cheeks. "Thanks…" She cleared her throat a little. "And… for last night too."
The thin creases at the corners of Edward's eyes softened. "Any–
"Captain?" A familiar soprano cut in. "We're gettin' close!"
Edward's head shot up at the intrusion, and with a quick internal shake, he morphed into a stony-faced, take-no-prisoners commander that put even Emmett in the shade. "How far?" he barked at a lean-cut, late-twenties Marine crouched by the piled coil of wrist-thick jungle green rope in the center of the cabin.
"Five minutes, sir." The helo's HRST master checked his wrist. "Wind's good. Nothing visible on the horizon. Clear on your order?"
"We're clear, sergeant. I'll drop first. She," he said, without needing to say whom he meant, "will piggy back Bear-man. Next to last and only if everything's clear. You lower his gear as soon as his boots hit the dirt. Tink will close shop."
"Yes, sir." The Marine gestured to Bella with a sharp, no-questions-needed nod. "Don't worry. I'll double check and make sure she's good and locked in tight. No one falls on my watch."
A deep line stretched across the captain's forehead, but all he said to the HRST master was a short, "Good to know." Unclipping his restraint, Edward twisted out of the seat and moved into a squat directly in front of Bella. The tips of his fingers caught the tops of her knees, stilling the slight trembles she hadn't even been aware of. "You good?" he asked her, quiet and low, unexpectedly gentle.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, even though it felt like her heart was climbing up her esophagus.
Edward's fingertips pressed a little harder, sure and warm even through gloves and Nomex, and his eyes, dark and near-metallic in the red glowing light, roamed her face, searching for what, she didn't know. "You remember everything?"
Her head bobbed quickly enough that he frowned. "I got it. Clip in, hold on, and don't get in the way of Emmett's hands and feet. As soon as we hit ground, unhook as fast as I can and get behind him."
"What else?"
"Stay close and do everything you do."
He paused for a split-second, and that frown deepened into a grimace. "You got your sidearm?"
Bella patted the black holster with its matching .45 lashed to her thigh. "I've got your sidearm."
"Not mine." Edward shook his head. "It's yours and you will use it if you need to. We clear?"
Her throat rolled behind the band of her throat-mike. "Yeah, we're clear."
Those forever-roaming eyes of his slowed their circuit, centering in on hers, and his fingertips spread to bracket her knees, giving her a barely perceptible, reassuring squeeze. "You're going to be fine," the captain told her, and in his voice, there wasn't even a hint that he didn't believe it.
The aircraft commander came through their headsets. "Two minutes."
"Roger, two minutes," the HRST master called out, holding up two fingers on each hand as the helo's forward momentum began to slow.
Up in the cockpit, Alice popped up from the second pilot seat. In a smooth, done-it-a-thousand-times motion, she swapped from her flight helmet to the same black Kevlar that the rest of the team wore and slipped between the seats. As though this were any other day of the week, swinging her hips to an exaggerated rhythm only she could hear, the lieutenant sashayed into the cabin, gave herself a little twirl, and belted out a loud, off-key, "Let's get it started, ha!" On her way by, she rapped Jasper on the top of his helmet, and then made a loud, laughing kissy face when he tried – and failed – to bat her hand away. "Let's get it started, in here!"
"No, no, no! None of that shit!" Emmett yelled in a protest reminiscent of the flight over the Atlantic, as he unbuckled his restraint to take his position. "I don't want that shitty music in my head all fucking night."
"Aw, come on. We gotta have some theme music, Big Man. We're like the A-Team. But better." Alice beamed over to the corporal. "Right, Jazzy?"
Stretching up, Jasper just ducked his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded to Bella a whole lot like, "Ya'll keep me out of it."
Alice went on like she hadn't heard a thing. "Bear-man, see, you can be B.A. Loud and big and bad ass and with awesome taste in jewelry."
Rosalie snorted and slapped her thigh, but Emmett stilled and stroked his chin. "Do I get a mohawk?"
"Fuckin' A, you do. And I'll be–"
"Murdock!" the staff sergeant finished, snickering into his palm. "You fly and you already got those crazy-ass, googly eyeba– Mumph!" Abruptly doubling over, Emmett glared down at a similarly glaring gunnery sergeant. "Goddamnit! Why'd you hit me this time?!"
She shrugged. "You need it sometimes."
"Do not!"
Bella shook her head, but the back and forth had its intended effect, and the pounding in her chest settled. She looked back to the captain, who still crouched in front of her. "They really are always like this, aren't they?"
"Yep, unfortunately. It's like a zoo some days." But one corner of his mouth pulled up. It dropped just as fast, however, when he repeated the same reassurance he'd given her a minute ago. He stood and shrugged on sixty pounds of gear like it were ten.
At full height, armed to the teeth, and for the second time since she met him, wearing that strange, eerie mix of professional calm and predatorial anticipation, the captain's call sign suddenly made all the sense in the world. Where those Deltas – in particular, Captain Black – had a feral kind of air, like something not quite human that was barely leashed, Edward was the silent, ice-cold blade that no one ever saw coming. "Dead before you even know he's there," Rosalie had said that day when they'd sat together deep in the Iranian mountains, waiting for him to finish his interrogation. Now, Bella believed it.
Unbuckling, Bella followed Edward up, swallowed back the rest of her nerves, and gave a short nod. "Okay. Let's do this then. Let's stop these assholes."
"One minute!"
Ninety feet above rocky terrain concealed by night, the helo's tail began a slow, counter-clockwise, swinging motion that finally settled into a stable hover. Through the open door, Edward glanced out, searching for movement or light – any sign that they weren't alone – but all he saw was the blackness of the clouds overhead and the vague, shadowy outline of the jagged hills in the distance.
The aircraft's commander issued the order. "Deploy the rope."
"Roger, deploy the rope," the HRST master called back as he began snaking the rope out the door until it hung from the rigging above, suspended in the air and swinging slightly from the draft of the rotors. "Rope on deck!"
The seconds that followed flew by in a lightning-fast blur of black and metal.
Like a well-oiled machine, Alice and Jasper shifted to cover the doors, NVGs down, rifles and sights sweeping the landscape below. When the two Marines gave him the go-ahead, Edward reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of thin plastic tubes, and cracked them across his knee. When he gave them a quick shake, they lit a pale, neon green, and he tossed them down to the ground to mark his landing.
Flipping his NVGs down, he moved toward the open door, taking one final look back to Emmett as he grabbed the rope.
And then he disappeared.
The air in Bella's lungs left in a loud rush, but she didn't have time to gape because as soon as the captain was gone, Jasper advanced to the rope, Rosalie took his place, and Emmett grabbed her by the elbow. "Come on, Doc. Like the Lieutenant said, let's get this shit started!"
Just like they'd practiced, the staff sergeant bent at the knees and gave Bella his wide back. Functioning out of rote memory more than thought, she crossed the space between them in a single, quick stride, hopped on his back, and with surer than she felt possible fingers, locked the two clips holding their harnesses together. As the HRST master checked her harness, out of the corner of her eye, Bella watched Jasper follow his commander, disappearing into wide-open darkness.
Rosalie went next.
And then she and Emmett were there, at the edge of the world and looking down at three faint, glowing dots. A few yards away, through the lenses of her NVGs, she saw three Marines, outlined in bright, vibrant green, rifles up and already forming a tight perimeter. "Ready, Freddie?" Emmett yelled over the noise.
As she extended her fist to give Emmett the thumbs up, Bella's eyes clamped shut. She opened her mouth to say the same – hoping for a fraction of his enthusiasm – but the quiet, choked, "Oorah…" that came out was instantly drowned out by the sudden, freight train-loud woosh! of air rushing past her ears.
June 24
Just Outside of Target Compound
Somewhere in West-Central Somalia, Along the Ethiopian Border
Tucked between a sheer rock face and the thirty-foot high compound wall, Captain Jacob Black stopped and held up a single black-gloved fist.
Glancing to his left, he gave a short, succinct nod to Staff Sergeant Paul Lahote – a 6'4" monster of camouflaged muscle and temper – who dipped his head in quick response. Rifle ready and searching the compound wall above for any hint of movement, the staff sergeant immediately fell back to cover the rear. As soon as he took position, Jake motioned for the two operators at his flank to spread out into a loose wedge formation, and then scanned up and a few hundred yards to the right to find the narrow, shadowy ledge where his sniper team – a pair of nearly identical, eagle-eyed sergeants who could split a quarter at eight hundred yards – sat ready and waiting. Not risking radio interception, he flashed the two men a rapid hand signal.
An answering hand peeked up, visible only magnified and in shades of glowing, night vision green.
Two fingers, closed fist, and then two more.
"Fuck," Jake mouthed as he repeated the silent query, only to get the same answer in return.
When he gave the next order, the four men on the ground began to slowly edge their way forward, creeping low and unseen around the next corner.
Directly ahead, at just this side of eighty yards and wedged between the same sheer rock face and wall, a single-story, concrete-block munitions bunker jutted out from the side of the compound. Likely a later external addition, it was small, no more than 15 x 15, and it appeared accessible to the inside by only two routes: an outside path that wound its way back around to the front, or, better, the extension ladder sitting on its roof that went all the way up to the top of the less occupied western compound wall.
Unlike the razor-wired eastern gates, the heavy coverage at the southern entrance, or the near-arsenal posted to the north, a single guard – a local mercenary from the looks of him – manned this particular bunker. He slowly roamed the structure's roof, following no obvious path or protocol. In terms of firepower, he was a piece of cake, sporting an old beat-up G3 slung across his chest. But Jacob wasn't fooled. He'd seen his type before. Tall, lanky, and fluid, this guy had the prowling gait and moves of a pro. He also had a radio.
Jake cursed again, knowing they were out of options if they wanted inside.
The guard turned his back to light a cigarette, and the captain made a snap call.
Training his rifle to the bunker and the man on top, he gave the go ahead for his team to advance. Without a hint of argument, moving fast and deathly quiet, the three Deltas shot from the dark, relative safety of the corner to the opposite wall, where they splayed out flat against it. Once there, taking over cover position, Paul pinned the back of the guard's head with his sights and signaled Jacob okay to follow.
The four men quickly crossed the remaining yards to the bunker, maneuvering back and forth a half dozen times in the darkness, silently slipping behind and below what little cover there was. When they reached a truck-sized boulder, they stopped one last time.
"Trick." Jacob's lips moved without sound as he motioned to the disturbingly quiet, dark-haired sergeant first class to his right. Expert marksman, tracker, and former Ranger, SFC Jared "Trick" Cameron was a force to be reckoned with, a no-nonsense operator that had been there, done that, and then some. So when Jake issued the silent command for him and Paul to sneak around to the rear of the bunker to "play catch", it was no surprise. The man's response was nothing more than a subtle nod.
As soon as the guard turned to start another lap, the two operators bolted from behind the rock to the front of the bunker, where they hugged the concrete wall, hidden only by the foot-wide overhang of the roof. Ever so slowly, under the careful watch of the invisible sniper team on the distant ledge, they crept around to the back of the building.
Jake glanced down to his wrist, silently counting down as the long hand ticked around the face. He waited precisely thirty seconds before looking over to his remaining operator on the ground, the team's regular pilot – and a scarily good operations strategist besides – First Lieutenant Seth Clearwater.
"Ready, Scooby?" he silently asked. Barely visible in the shadows, the younger man flashed him a wicked smile behind his beard, patted his rifle, and gave his commander the go ahead. Jacob pointed to the roof. "Secure the route, but wait for me before ascending. Be ready."
"Yes, sir."
As Seth slinked to the edge of the boulder, preparing to advance, Jake double-tapped his throat-mike to issue the wordless, static-squawk order that he knew Cullen would give him hell for later. Peeking around the rock, he watched the guard casually approach the rear of the roof, oblivious to Jared and Paul lurking on the ground beneath him.
The captain raised his fist slowly, readying the team on the ledge.
One.
Two.
Go!
Before he'd even lowered his hand, completing the command, there was a muted thump! of pressurized air overhead. Then another, hot on its heels.
A pair of dark, dime-sized blooms instantly appeared dead center between the guard's eyes. As if in slow motion, the man froze, his expression a mask of shock, his body twisting from the force of the high-powered, silenced rounds. A split second later, his rifle clattered against concrete as his arms flailed out wide, spread eagle. He teetered backward, an inch forward, and then back one last time before silently dropping off the roof into the waiting arms of the operators below.
June 25
En Route to Target Villa
Just Outside Mogadishu, Somalia
The old analog clock on the Land Cruiser's dash read ten after one by the time their two CIA-supplied vehicles made the final turn into the city.
Rough and riddled with ruts and tire-sized chugholes, the streets were dark this time of night. The few streetlights still standing were black, having been shot out decades ago and never replaced. A handful of windows glowed here and there, but the crumbling, war-torn buildings that crowded the blocks were just like the roads: dark, silent, and seemingly vacant.
Seemingly being the operative word.
Always moving, Edward's eyes swung from the road ahead to the rear view mirror, where a pair of dim, boxy headlights stared back. "Jazz, you got anything back there?"
As they rolled past the bones of an old government building, the corporal came through the secure radio. "No, sir. Blondie said she saw a couple of lookouts a mile or so back. Kids up on a tower, from what she could see. Nada on all the usual radio frequencies. No cell traffic either."
"Good." Edward's jaw rolled as his gaze dropped from the headlights to the woman in the backseat, and then back to the road again. His fist tightened around the shifter. "Let's keep it that way. Keep your eyes open and tell me if you see anything."
Jasper came back quickly. "Will do."
Beside the captain, with one of his rifles resting between his knees and ready at a moment's notice, Emmett studied a compact, portable display. Currently up was a sprawling map of the city, the usual colors inverted and dimmed so that no one outside could see the glow. Without looking up, he said to his commander, "Five blocks, hang a left. There's a one-lane cut over that'll get us off this main stretch and out of sight."
Edward nodded. "Anything new from the satellites?"
The staff sergeant tugged off his gloves with his teeth and swiped the screen to pull up the latest set of images from Langley.
Unable to resist, Bella leaned forward from her spot on the worn, vinyl bench in the back to peek over the man's shoulder. Arching an arrogant brow, Emmett side-eyed her, his face, like hers, still greased to match their surroundings, but then he gave her a little wink as he tilted the screen so that she could see.
These were a different kind of image from the ones before, Bella realized – bright, misshapen blots of red and yellow, surrounded by a sea of green, navy, and black. "Thermals?" she asked, tilting her head as she tried to make out the shapes.
"Yep," the big man answered. He pointed to six distinct splotches of color. "See these guys?"
"Yeah."
"They're the fuckers we need to avoid like the plague, even more than," his forefinger traced a concentric ring of ten more splotches inside the six-man perimeter, "these assholes here on the roof and compound walls." Emmett flipped to another image, and yet another, until Bella could make out the slow clockwise pattern of the six men's movements. "You see?"
Skin stiff from the camo paint, her forehead folded. "They're patrolling outside the villa."
"Very good, Doctor Swan," Edward said. Without permission, his lips curved up at the corners as he simultaneously downshifted to make the first turn. The early-80s transmission shuddered in protest, but the vehicle kept moving, whipping around the block to squeeze into a narrow alleyway.
When they straightened out, Bella leaned toward the window, her helmet lightly tapping the glass, and she caught the shadowed outline of clothes hanging from the fourth story building-to-building lines overhead. Far above, a thin sliver of the moon peeped through the clouds. Still looking up as her mind replayed all the images they'd studied in the Negev and later on the ship, she said, "They weren't doing that before."
"Next left, Captain." Emmett shook his head and then replied to Bella. "Nope. Looks like they're either just running at night…"
"Or?"
"A new addition," Edward finished.
Alarmed more at the chilling undercurrent in the captain's tone than the actual words, Bella's attention flew from the shadows outside the window to the ice-cold man in the driver's seat. Even hidden under the paint, the taut lines of the tendons that went down his neck stood out in stark relief. "Meaning?" Bella asked. The sudden flip of her stomach said that she already knew.
With a hard scowl, Edward spun the steering wheel, punching the gas as the alleyway widened into something that could almost be classified as a two-way street. "They're nervous," he told her as he shifted again. The change in momentum, coupled with the heavy weight of the SAPI plates inside her vest, kicked her back against the seat. "Which means they already have an idea that we're on our way."
Thirty-five minutes later, after navigating the vast maze of narrow streets through the city's heart, the team's dirty-white Land Cruisers pulled into a tight, pitch-black service alley. On either side rose a pair of empty buildings, both years-since abandoned construction projects with long, visible branches of rebar protruding from the exposed concrete and stretching up to the sky. Before the captain killed the running lights, Bella glimpsed the sand-colored walls, stained and littered with heavy-round bullet holes.
"Tink," Edward ordered through his throat mike. "You and Jazz take the east. Blondie, grab Bear-man and you two take the west. I want a quick sweep around the block before we move out."
"Yes, sir," Alice answered back, her light, almost-cheerful voice incongruent with their surroundings.
"Be on the lookout for hostiles. We're still a little over a klick out, but do not take any chances. This city is not our friend. Are we clear?"
Alice and Rosalie replied in unison. "Clear."
As Emmett exited the vehicle, slipping out with far more grace and silence than Bella would have guessed him capable, Edward spun around in his seat. He eyed her, noting the quick, shallow breaths that gave her nerves away. "You ready?"
"I don't know." She was honest.
Through the back glass over Bella's head, the captain watched two of his Marines sidle up to the wall at the end of the alley, rifles up and in ready position. A blink later, silent as church mice, they vanished around the corner and out of sight. In his earpiece, he could hear the whispered chatter between the teams.
Softer, losing the sharpness that always seemed to come second nature, Edward asked the wide-eyed woman in front of him, "Why's that?"
"I don't want to slow you down." She swallowed. "Be in the way when they're– those people are out there, looking." Without conscious thought, Bella reached up to tug on her chinstrap.
Catching her small, shaking hand mid-way, Edward gave it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, look at me," he commanded her, his voice still soft, and still holding onto her until she looked him in the eye. "You were fine when we dropped. Better than fine. You kept up and you did every single thing I asked you to do. You'll do that here, too. Got it?"
Edward watched as, just like in that bolthole where her co-worker had been tortured to death, stubborn resolve made its way into Bella's posture and expression. Unable to stop himself, he smiled when her breathing evened out, wider when she nodded and gave a steely affirmative that would have made Rosalie proud to see. "Then let's move out."
Taking cues from Emmett's prior departure, Bella cracked the back door just wide enough to slide through and then gently pushed it shut, cringing at the barely audible click that sounded far louder than it was to her ears. She wasted no time thinking about it, however, and after lowering her NVGs, she quickly moved to shadow the captain, just like he'd told her to do. Together, they crept beneath an old awning, ripped and fluttering in the warm, dusty breeze, until they reached the same corner Rosalie and Emmett had already gone around.
As he scanned the upper floors of the surrounding buildings, Edward said, "Need you to watch, too. You tell me the second you see any movement. Okay?"
Hand automatically dropping to her thigh, fingertips grazing the steel of her sidearm, Bella nodded once.
A minute later, through the headset, Alice whispered a quiet, "Ghost, you have an all clear. We're circling back to catch up to you now. Give us thirty seconds."
"Roger that," Edward responded as he motioned for Bella to get ready to go. In a lithe move he'd perfected over the years, he dropped to a knee and peeked around the corner, barrel first. "Blondie?"
"Clear." There was a blip of a penlight, a tiny pulse of bright green through his lenses. "We're ahead of you on the left at fifty yards."
"Hold position and cover. We will come to you." He glanced back, just in time to see two familiar figures emerging from the darkness behind them, low and hugging tight to the wall. Reaching back, he tapped their scientist on the wrist to make sure she saw them too.
As soon as Alice and Jasper reached their position, Edward issued the nonverbal command, directing Alice to the opposite side of the street, where not even that sliver of the moon above gave any good light. The lieutenant instantly complied, moving fast, low to the ground, and without a hint of sound. As soon as she hit the wall, the captain motioned for Jasper to cover and then he tapped Bella on the wrist again, directing her to stay close.
Crossing the street – that hair-raising moment in which they were wide open targets – pushed Bella faster than she thought possible with the full weight of the gear strapped to her torso. Her boot touched the covered, broken-up sidewalk a fraction of a second behind the captain's. She watched, heart in her throat, as the corporal followed, insanely quick and as graceful as a prowling cat.
Keeping to the shadows, it took less than a minute for the four to reach the two sergeants where they waited, tucked behind a beat-up old Datsun on blocks and scanning the rooftops through their scopes. "Still clear, sir," Rosalie said the second Edward crouched behind the car.
With a clipped nod, Edward pointed down the street to a storefront with metal roll-down window shutters. "In pairs, ten yards apart."
Rosalie and Emmett took off first, and then the captain and Bella.
Halfway there, a triplet of rifle shots rang out, loud and piercing in the night.
Heart stopping in her chest, Bella jolted at the sound and stumbled as she ran. Before she could fall, however, a strong, lightning-fast arm wrapped around her waist. A leather-clad hand clamped over her mouth, silencing the scream that came out before she could stop it.
Lifting her off her feet, Edward yanked Bella into the black recess of the nearest building, instinctively pushing her into the darkest corner and shielding her with his body. He pushed her NVGs up to her helmet before doing the same with his. "Shh," he whispered, still covering her mouth. He ducked down until their faces were mere inches apart. "They're not that close," he murmured, his hand the only thing separating them. "A few blocks at least. Just some locals fucking around. Probably a couple of gun runners that work for one of the warlords."
Bella's frame instantly sagged, her weight falling into him. Loosening his hold only when her eyes closed in relief, Edward turned slightly, listening as a big block engine revved in the distance. There was a loud whoop! of young male voices and another handful of rounds fired up into the sky. A second more, and the big engine roared again as its tires peeled off.
"Good?" he asked, his lips now close enough that they grazed the delicate shell of Bella's ear.
Her forehead dropped to Edward's shoulder and Bella exhaled into the captain's unyielding chest, willing her heart to slow. She took a deep, settling breath, inhaling the very faint, ever-present scent of his aftershave, before slowly nodding. "Yeah, sorry about that."
"Don't be." Edward reached down and looped his fingers around Bella's wrist, shifting her attention to the sidearm she'd drawn without even realizing it. "Good reflexes, by the way." He didn't wait for her to reply, but instead gently pulled her from the entryway when the growl of the distant engine said that the vehicle had driven far enough away.
"You okay, Doc?" Emmett whispered into his mike. Bella looked across the street to where the staff sergeant and Rosalie had ducked inside a dark entryway.
"Of course she is," Alice piped in before she could answer. "Don't be a dumbass, dumbass."
"I was being nice!" Emmett whispered-shouted back. "I nearly shit myself."
Smiling despite the man's obvious bold-face lie, Bella tried her own throat mike for the first time. "I'd hope not." She paused before adding, "Some bad ass you are, by the way."
"Five more points," Jasper snickered.
"All right," Edward said, silencing them all, even though he wore a ghost of a smile. "Let's move. We have ground to cover."
It was nearly two when they hit the last alleyway. Running perpendicular to the villa's outside walls, the approach gave them a solid view of the looped razor-wire that ran along the top. An old floodlight spotted the dirt path directly underneath.
Two blocks away, Edward raised his fist and dropped behind a banged-up metal garbage bin that had been left empty on the side of the street. He looked over to Emmett. "Anything?"
Pulling out the same portable screen he'd manned on the way in, the staff sergeant shook his head. "Last image was from ten minutes ago, and we're losing the satellite angle. But…" He tapped the screen. "It looks like one of those fuckers will be around in a minute or so."
Edward cursed. "Then we wait. Slide in betwe–"
A dim, blinking signal in the corner of his left lens interrupted. Edward immediately swapped frequencies and tapped his throat-mike, signaling the go ahead.
"Ghost, this is Wolf. Are you in position to receive communication?"
"Affirmative," Edward answered. His forehead creased at the break in protocol. "Go ahead, Wolf. What is your status?"
"Not good. Take a look and see for yourself."
Flicking a switch, the captain swiveled his NVGs around to the pair of lenses on the right. The other man's feed came through, crystal-clear.
The image appeared to be a warehouse, filled with stacks of heavy wooden crates bearing the stamps and flags of at least a dozen nations. Judging by the sizes and shapes, they were looking at hundreds – thousands – of rifles, rockets, and other weapons. In the very center, a row of long, narrow SS-1 missiles sat with their cone tips open, ready for loading.
But what drew every bit of Edward's focus wasn't the armory this group had amassed. It was the thirty foot long unfurled banners that hung from the rafters – black, with blood-red scorpions poised to strike in their centers – and the squads of lethal soldiers who raised salute to a thin, gray-haired man in a suit, standing at the very front.
"Ghost, you gettin' this shit?" Jacob asked.
"Copy that. Can you tell what he's saying?"
"Damn right, I can. Motherfucker is speaking English. Be advised we are dealing with a lunatic of epic proportions." In the younger captain's voice, gone was some of the earlier arrogance, and that was what made Edward blink. "Your orders?"
"Record everything you can," Edward told him. "And shoot a copy up to Canaan, as well as over to Quantico. Let's see if they can help ID just who we're dealing with… We need all the help we can get."
Edward clicked off the lens and the feed and blankly stared at the villa two blocks away. Right on cue, a heavily armed soldier – pale-skinned, blond-haired, and not at all fitting with this part of the world – appeared and stepped into the floodlight at the base of the wall. Edward ducked, just as the patrol's head swung their way. Into the mike, he whispered, "And Wolf, you do not engage. Get that info and get your ass out of there, ASAP."
.
.
.
Notes:
Glossary:
Canaan – historical name for the region occupied by Israel, Lebanon, etc. Edward's just telling Jake to send the info on to El'azar.
G3 – or Heckler and Koch G3 battle rifle, which fires a 7.62 x 51 mm round. It was originally manufactured in the '50s, and like the AK, the weapon was used by all sides in the Somali Civil War. It's still used by various countries around the world.
HK 416 – or Heckler and Koch 416 carbine is an urban assault rifle very similar in performance to and used in similar circumstances as the M4A1 CQBR carbine (Edward's weapon of choice). Like the M4A1, it fires a 5.56 x 45 mm NATO round, offers around 850 rounds per minute firing rate, and has a muzzle velocity somewhere in the neighborhood of 3000 ft/s, depending on the barrel length and round used. Both weapons are used by various U.S. Special Operations forces.
HRST Master – or Helicopter Rope Suspension Training Master. An important role on a helicopter crew who makes sure all the ropes and rigging are set up correctly. S/He's also the one who gives fast-ropers or rappellers the go-ahead.
Nomex – a handy dandy fabric used for fire retardancy.
NVGs – recall, these are night vision goggles. Four-tube variants aren't the norm, but are sometimes used by various Special Ops crews. They're rather expensive (several tens of thousands per pair), but they offer a lot of benefits, one of which being that an operator can transmit what he's seeing to another person, who can then see the same scene in one of his four lenses. Slick, eh?
Operator – Deltas (and sometimes SEALs) tend to use the term to differentiate soldiers in the field from support/logistics/etc. staff. In other words, operators are the guys who actually do the black ops, direct action kind of missions in the field.
Suppressor – a nifty little gadget that fits on the end of a rifle barrel designed to reduce the sound and/or visual flash from a fired round, depending on the type of suppressor used.