Insidious Valour, page 11
Harper used the time to get familiar with his squad, identifying everyone by their own callsigns. During the weapons check, they exchanged their own stories of fighting and survival during the war. Amongst all seven teams, eighty-four would be heading on foot into Liberia.
There was no clear indicator that Admiral had recruited any of the Liberian populace into his ranks or if the war between druglords still raged across the oceanside capital, Monrovia. All Operation Catfish had to go on was the intel they found aboard the Venezuelan cargo ship, which pointed to two compounds in the jungle off the port of Cape Palmas, Southern Liberia.
Cape Palmas. The last official mission Harper had with the US Marines Corps before the collapse. Three years before the war started, Liberia was considered to be the fourth poorest country in the world before a huge economic boom from an unknown source.
In every tabloid photo, a young Islamic Russian named Aslan was seen shaking hands with the country’s political leaders while opening hospitals and drug rehabilitation centres for a high percentage of the population that were jobless addicts. He didn’t come across with malicious intent with the work he was doing in the country, but that would all change in no time.
The release of a video that set the war into motion was traced back to an IP address in Cape Palmas. The video showed the inside job that would lead to 9/11, and the very reveal of that act would turn America on itself, sparking the flame that would burn the country.
Harper and Woodburn were assigned to SAS Task Force 205, which included Admiral and Connor, to bring Aslan in and disprove the video’s credit. After attempting an assault on Aslan’s mansion, the chase led Harper north to Gibraltar, where he lost contact with Admiral, and then the bombs started exploding on April 24th of that year. Everything after that was its own hell, and now Admiral had gone back to where it all started.
“Full circle,” Harper said to himself, keeping his eyes on the map of Liberia.
The first Chinook powered up on the runway, and both blades thumped cold air into the hangar.
“Alpha and Bravo teams, you’re up!” Woodburn shouted, clapping his hands together. Both squads got into formation and jogged cautiously onto the snow-covered tarmac. Harper zipped up his overalls and pulled on his heavy jacket, following the teams out towards the boarding ramp. One of the corporals saved him a seat on the right side, and Woodburn took the one opposite. He pulled on the headset piece and switched on the comms unit. Once everyone was on board, the ramp closed slowly, and the cargo space was dimly lit under a red light.
“Alright, gentlemen of Operation Catfish,” the pilot said over the comms. “I’ll be your captain for the day. It’s about three hours until we reach the U.S.S Gavato. Please make sure your chairs are in the upright position and your baggage is under your chair. If you have any complaints about my flying, feel free to leave a complaint at idontfuckingcare@suckmyballs.com.”
The Chinook rose and banked slowly to the right. Harper pictured the city below as they ascended, picking up speed once they reached cruising altitude. He shared one final moment of thinking about his family and the day they spent together, then shook it from his mind. They would be in good hands with Rook, and now wasn’t the time to worry. It was about the mission now.
“I hear you’ve already been to Liberia, sir?” the corporal next to Harper asked.
“Only briefly,” he answered. “Our target moved out quickly once he heard we were on his trail.”
“Also heard some of the guys you went with are the same guys we’re going after now?”
“That’s affirmative, Corporal,” Harper confirmed, glancing back at Woodburn. “I can tell you now, though, they’re not the same men we once shared bread with.”
“I don’t think anyone’s the same since all this, sir,” the corporal added before pulling his helmet down over his eyes and leaning back, trying to catch a few hours’ sleep before they embarked on the aircraft carrier.
Woodburn raised his eyebrows and smirked at the brief conversation before signalling that all the other men had taken it on themselves to get some extra sleep. “We used to do the same,” he reminisced.
“Iraq and Afghanistan were totally different,” Harper reminded him.
“You’re right,” Woodburn agreed. “This is much worse.”
17
“What do you mean the cooling unit has malfunctioned?” Rook anxiously repeated the information he’d just been told over the smart radio. The sudden call from the medical examiner had brought the worst news possible with it. The morgue’s chill units had malfunctioned during the early hours of the morning, and the only body that remained after the mass burial of the hospital shooting victims had decomposed. The body of the unidentified murder victim who had washed up at Mont St Michael was useless.
“I wish there was more I could tell you. One of the cooling units could’ve burned out after Health Minister Eriksen oversaw the transport of the hospital victims,” the examiner said softly. “I have to deal with this mess now.”
“Shit!” Rook said under a heavy breath. “Sorry, Doc, didn’t mean to take it out on you.” He hung up and dropped the device onto his sofa, treading softly back into his bedroom and sat on the end of the bed.
“You know, most men aren’t this tense after a two-hour session of lovemaking,” Eliza said as she sat up, running her hand down his bare chest from behind.
“Well, that’s an upgrade,” he said, kissing her hand. “Last week, you said we were only fucking.”
“Don’t mix my words,” she demanded coldly. “What was the call about?”
“The freezers in the morgue have gone down. The body is pretty much decomposed soup on the floor now.”
“Gross.”
“Yeah. Poor bastard has to mop it up.” He sighed, pulling his combat pants on. “And now I can’t find out who was on Monreal’s case.”
“Maybe not from the corpse itself,” Eliza said, hinting at more information. She pulled the duvet up to cover herself and added, “But there are other ways to find out who it is.”
“How? Monreal has played around with the M.I.A list. I can’t find out who’s missing and who isn’t.”
“Not from our database, no, but you can use other sources to find out who this person could be.”
“I’m listening,” Rook said, pulling his long-sleeved T-shirt on and tying his hair back into a ponytail.
“You said that Monreal had recruited those Polish men from the docks?” she said, lighting a cigarette.
“Smoking after sex? And I’m cliché?”
“Shut up and listen. One group of people we don’t keep in our database is the Navy whenever they’re docked. That stays with the captain of the ship and his manifest. I’d say, given that they were transporting a biological weapon in testing, that someone caught onto where the shipments were going and confronted Monreal.”
“You think the body could be one of the Navy?”
“It would make sense why no one has been reported missing on our end.”
“Wouldn’t there be some kind of record with the Navy?”
“Most likely. I can contact the HQ in Brugges tomorrow if you like?”
“Why do I feel like this is a trade?”
“It is a trade. You let me sleep here tonight, and I’ll make the call tomorrow. If not, you can wait a couple of days.”
He could only admire her negotiation skills, and after everything she’d done for him before, he was at a conversational disadvantage. “Okay, deal.” He pulled his boots on. “Just don’t use all my hot water allowance.” Rook left the apartment and immediately heard the shower start running from inside. “For fuck’s sake,” he said aloud, then laughed internally.
His usual checks on the three rooms were uneventful and standard, though he opted to spend a bit more time than usual with Harper’s family, considering it was their first night alone since he’d deployed for Operation Catfish.
It wasn’t until midnight that the reception guard shift swapped out, and Rook performed his checks on the building, securing all windows and doors. It wasn’t until he got to the top floor that he saw the exit wide open, with a stone jammed in the hinge to keep it from closing.
Rook drew his pistol and checked around, with no snowy footprints leading inside. He gazed outside and saw a set of smaller footprints pressed into the snow, leading out onto the open rooftop. To his surprise, Harper’s daughter was the small person standing in the middle of the open space, gazing upwards.
“Katie?” he asked, putting his pistol away. “Are you okay?”
She turned to face him, her eyes teary. “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t be here,” she said and sobbed. “It’s just what I do when Dad goes away.”
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” He approached, hands out in defence. “I know it must be hard.”
“He always says that while he’s gone, we’ll still be under the same stars.”
“He’s right, you know?”
“And he’s always gone,” Katie said, wiping her eyes. “I’m always looking at the stars.”
“Explains your fascination with sci-fi novels,” Rook thought out loud, then realised it was loud enough for Katie to hear. His eyes nearly bulged out of his face in embarrassment, and he felt himself turning red. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
“It’s okay,” she said with a slight cackle. “They’re shit books anyway.”
He didn’t know how to respond to her swearing and mentally cursed himself for being more awkward around a twelve-year-old girl than he was around gunfire. “I won’t tell your dad you said that,” he said. “Listen, Katie. I can’t have you up here—”
“I was just leaving,” Katie said, cutting him off. “Please, don’t tell Mom I was up here.”
“No, not that. Stop,” Rook enforced, empathising with her situation. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. You can come up here every night until your father gets back, but only for five minutes a time and while I’m guarding you.” He offered his hand. “Deal?”
Katie hesitated, then reached out and agreed. “Deal.”
Rook guided her back inside and locked the rooftop exit, mocking himself for having to make two deals with women inside the space of five hours. After helping Katie sneak back inside, he checked in on Eliza, who was now asleep, and made himself a coffee.
He spent the next couple of hours with the laptop open, observing the screens that displayed the outside of the building. His quiet shift broke with the ringing of Eliza’s alarm, and a few short minutes later, she was fully dressed and ready to leave.
“Don’t forget your end of the deal!” he called out, sipping from his cup as she left. He took himself back to the open kitchen and started cooking himself some eggs and bacon, keeping an eye on the screen and the guards who were caught off by the unexpected female leaving the property. He cut himself a thick wedge of bread and added it to the plate, then sat at the coffee table, his eyes drawn to the camera overlooking the back exit. A hooded figure stood in plain view, waving at the camera.
Rook leaned in, trying to make out who the person was. He left his breakfast, grabbed his gun and hastily made his way down to the exit, opening quickly and aiming the weapon at the stranger.
“That how you treat majors in America?” Alexi asked cockily, removing his hood.
“Alexi? Fuck man, what are you doing sneaking around? And don’t call yourself a major. I know you don’t even like that title.”
“Well, I agree with you on that.”
“How did you know about the camera?”
“Harper told me. After all, it was you who got the other device that I’ve been asked to sneak to someone in England.” Alexi shrugged dismissively and asked, “May I come in?”
Rook frowned, not happy that someone else knew what surveillance he was running, but relented and replied, “Sure.”
The two entered his apartment, and Alexi poured himself a cup of coffee without adding sugar or milk.
“What can I do for you, Major?” Rook snorted, offering him a seat.
“I leave tonight,” Alexi said, getting straight to the point. “As you know, I’m making a quick stop at this vineyard place. I’ve heard a bit about it and of the main man, Ryan. How can I know he’s not going to open fire on us when we land?”
“To be fair, you don’t. He threatened to kill me if I hurt his family the first time I met him. You should hope that Drinker is there to help identify you.”
“And if he’s not? Can’t I contact him before?”
“The internet signal has been jammed over their coordinates.” Rook shook his head, then clicked his fingers. “But they do have a set of short-wave radios. Fifty-mile range. You can let him know you’re coming beforehand. There is always someone on watch, so even if Ryan isn’t on duty, they can let him know.”
“Okay,” Alexi huffed nervously. “I don’t fancy being killed by a civilian before my first operation even starts. Even if I deserve the responsibility or not.”
“You’ll be fine, man. I’ve heard a lot about how your men look up to you, and even if you aren’t officially a major right now, you will be one day.”
“Thanks. I have Danish Minister Eriksen to thank for throwing that title on me, at the request of Woodburn, of course.”
“Don’t involve me in any of that politics shit,” Rook said as he stood. “That’s not my game. Just stick to your training and everything you know. You’ve got a full squad behind you that believe in you. Get the mission done and get back.”
“I will, and thank you, Rook.” Alexi saluted, which was returned. “Any idea which channel Ryan’s radio might be on before I attempt contacting him?”
“Not a clue. I’d go through them all before he blows you out of the sky.”
Alexi laughed and left, giving Rook enough time to finish his breakfast before performing his early morning security checks. Another day of security and another day of watching the screens.
Inside the roaring Chinook, Alexi stood as the chopper began its descent onto what had been identified as Penbrook Vineyard. The pilot confirmed a flare had been dispatched to signal where to land. Alexi considered that a good sign, as he hadn’t been able to establish contact with anyone on the ground.
The landing gear touched the ground, and the ramp slowly opened. Alexi told his men not to even think about raising their weapons unless fired upon. It was counterintuitive to everything he was trained in, but after everything Harper had done for him in the past, this was a favour that he needed to repay.
In front of Alexi stood a man, weapon by his side. Blond dreadlocks tied back, green eyes that appeared to glow in the dark. Those same eyes narrowed in, and the man raised his gun, pointing it straight at Alexi.
“Who the fuck are you?” Ryan demanded.
18
Another figure ran out from the winery’s front entrance, weapon raised as they joined Ryan by the side. Alexi held his arms out and slowly stepped down the ramp.
“Alexi?” the Scottish voice asked, and Drinker removed his hood.
Alexi heaved a heavy breath and smiled. “Yeah. It’s me, old friend.”
“You know this guy?” Ryan asked, not taking his aim away.
“Me and Harper fought with him,” Drinker explained before turning back to Alexi. “What’s all this?”
“Lieutenant Harper asked me to stop over on the way and drop this off to you,” he said, keeping calm and taking the bag off his shoulder, then holding it in front of himself.
“What is it?” Ryan asked forcefully, slowly stepping forward.
“It’s an AnCam Surveillance system,” Alexi explained, then switched back to Drinker, “like the ones we used to hold Rotterdam’s ports.”
“What’s it for?” Ryan asked, leading the conversation.
“Harper wanted to help ease your nerves while the operations were underway. We still can’t establish an internet signal for your area, so he wanted to offer this to give you more security until it’s all over.”
“What’s all over?”
Alexi smirked, unsure if Ryan was just stubborn or truly untrusted everything. Either way, it was clear he was going to have to be told outright. “You see the direction all these choppers are headed?” He pointed to the sky. “We’re going to the Hebrides. We’re going to finish off Admiral’s men.”
What appeared to be a small flicker of hope ran across Ryan’s stare before it hardened again. “Do you trust this man, Drinker?”
“I do.”
“Do you trust what’s in the bag?”
Drinker approached, taking it from Alexi and examining the contents. A laptop, four small cameras, and a portable satellite radar. “It’s exactly what he says it is.”
Ryan stood still for several seconds, then slowly lowered his rifle. “Your friends with Harper?”
“I consider myself to be.” Alexi smiled and hoped he looked sincere.
“Do you know how my sister and friends are?”
Alexi was expecting the question and managed to keep the same friendly look on his face. “They’re fine,” he lied. “You can see them all once this is over.”
Ryan’s eyes softened, and a small smile appeared. “Thank you.” He laughed, looking at his gun. “Sorry for all that.”
“You can apologise by giving me some of that wine when this is done,” Alexi replied, holding his confidence, even though he’d just lied to someone who thirty seconds ago was ready to kill him. He clicked the receiver on his comms unit. “Eagle One, we’re ready to proceed to Sheffield.”
“Copy that, Atom One,” the pilot replied, and the blades started up almost instantly.
“Good to see you, my friend!” Alexi saluted to Drinker.
“Aye! Good luck,” Drinker shouted above the roar.
“Thank you!” Ryan added as the ramp door closed.
Alexi held onto the railing as the chopper ascended, feeling his shoulders relax as they continued their voyage north. He turned back to his squad, most of whom had resumed catching up on sleep, apart from his lieutenant, who caught Alexi’s eye.
