“Ready!” shouted their explosives guy, Messina, and the gunfire outside quietened as their defenders joined them. They encircled the bones, all bowing their heads, and as Messina counted down from three, Esposito stared one last time at the bones.

  And the cross they gripped.

  And had a revelation that restored his faith as the blast consumed him.

  Acton cursed as the entire hillside erupted above him. He dropped and rolled under the truck as rock sprayed across the gorge. Huge boulders slammed into the ground along with rocks and pebbles, and a thick cloud of pulverized stone rolled over the area, clouding his vision and filling his lungs.

  But this was his chance, and he had to be ready. As the debris continued to rain down, he scrambled to the front of the truck and peered into the cloud. Stone was still falling, but the big rocks had to have already landed. He crawled out from under the truck and slung his weapon, then took a leap of faith. He pushed to his feet and sprinted through the cloud, weaving between the rocks that now blocked any escape by vehicle, and covering his head from the small stones still dropping around him.

  He didn’t bother looking back. Instead, he kept moving forward, kept putting distance between himself and the Syrians, kept heading toward what he hoped was eventual freedom.

  When a single shot rang out and he dropped in a heap.

  60 |

  Corpo della Gendarmeria Office Palazzo del Governatorato, Vatican City

  Laura screamed and collapsed into her chair as Giasson rushed forward to stop her from falling to the floor. Everyone in the security office had fallen silent the moment Acton was shot in the back, and all eyes were glued to the screen providing the live feed from Langley.

  “Primary is down, I repeat, primary is down.”

  The voice was calm, almost robotic, the woman providing status updates to the various parties involved emotionless. Yet Giasson could swear he had heard her voice crack. If his understanding of things was accurate, Laura and Acton had worked with the CIA on many occasions, and perhaps there was a bond there between Acton and the automaton on the other end of the speaker.

  “Charlie Zero-One, can you confirm status of primary, over?”

  “Stand by, Control, we’re a little busy here!”

  Laura had said the man speaking was her security chief, and Giasson had to admire the fact the man had led a team into Syria to rescue Acton, and was now engaging the enemy despite the man being dead. Most people would have pulled out the moment their client was killed, saving themselves from an enemy that had no clue they were there.

  Instead, they were taking their revenge out of loyalty, for Acton wasn’t just a client—he was a friend and comrade in arms.

  He was their brother.

  Part of him wanted to be on the ground, fighting with them. Acton was a good man, one of the best he had the privilege to meet. It was a horrible day. A good man was dead, and from what they could see, the Keepers had blown up an entire hillside to preserve whatever secrets had been inside.

  It could mean only one thing

  They had found the bones.

  The tablet was genuine.

  And it made him sick.

  He helped Laura onto the couch in his office then turned to Ianuzzi. “Get her some water.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ianuzzi disappeared and Giasson sat beside the sobbing woman, wrapping an arm around her as the horror story continued to play on the screen in front of them, occasional bursts of gunfire caught on the mics of the brave warriors now battling for their lives.

  Please, Lord, take care of these brave men.

  He closed his eyes and smiled slightly. Perhaps he hadn’t yet completely lost his faith.

  61 |

  Burial Site South of Homs, Syria

  Leather’s jaw dropped as Acton hit the ground. He redirected his scope to see who had taken the shot and spotted a Russian looking rather pleased with himself. He put a round in the man’s head and he collapsed in a heap. Leather rolled behind the rock as gunfire erupted from below, peppering his position with ricochets. He kept as tight as possible, protecting his head from any strays, cursing himself for having taken the emotional shot.

  But he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

  Just like a Russian to shoot a man in the back.

  He scrambled back down the other side of the hill as the rest of his team engaged, taking some heat off his position. “Target the Russians if you can,” he ordered. They were the greater risk, and if he was dying here today, he’d rather take out as many of those bastards here for the money and the violence, rather than the Syrians who were mostly conscripts who’d rather be at home with their families.

  Though he’d kill them too if they got in the way.

  “Control, ETA on Bravo Team?” he shouted into his comms as he repositioned.

  “Five minutes.”

  “We’re not going to be here in five.”

  “We advise you to fall back, I repeat, fall back. The primary is KIA. Your mission is over. I repeat, your mission is over.”

  He hit the ground and crawled up to the crest of the hill and checked down below. Acton lay prone, exactly where he had been shot. All evidence said he was dead. Leather peered through his scope, getting a good view of Acton as the firefight continued about twenty yards away.

  Where’s the blood?

  He refocused, squinting slightly. There was no blood on the ground, and he couldn’t see a wound on the man’s back. It didn’t mean there wasn’t one, but a round to the back should have produced a rather large pool of blood.

  And he could see none.

  “Control, Charlie Zero-One. I can’t see a wound. I repeat, I can’t see a wound on the primary. Stand by.” He lined up a shot, slowly exhaling as he squeezed the trigger. A puff of dust exploded just in front of Acton’s head.

  And Leather could have sworn the man flinched.

  A smile spread as Leather rolled onto his back, the Russians opening up on his newly revealed position. But he didn’t care. He protected himself once again as he reported the news.

  “Control, Charlie Zero-One. The primary is playing possum. I repeat, the primary is playing possum!”

  Acton lay on the ground, cursing himself for having reacted to the stray shot that had missed his head by only a couple of feet. It must have been a ricochet, since there was no way the Syrians could have made that shot without hitting him.

  Unless it came from an elevated position.

  If his enemy was now spreading along the hilltops, his playing Weekend at Bernie’s would soon be over. When he had been shot, it had knocked the wind right out of him and his ass to the ground. As near as he could figure, the round had hit his rifle slung across his back. His weapon was probably useless now, but it had saved his life.

  The heavy gunfire behind him changed pitch once again as at least some of the guns redirected toward a new target that still wasn’t him. His playing dead was so far working, but he wasn’t sure what to do now. Would the Syrians be paying attention to him still, or were they engaged with whoever it was now fighting them?

  And that was the real question. Who were they fighting? It could be some rival faction, though he had a feeling it wasn’t. It had to be Delta, yet the weapons didn’t sound right. He was hearing C8 Carbines instead of M4s. Whoever it was, if it was an enemy of my enemy is my friend situation, then he should take advantage of it while he could. Whoever won in the end would still be his enemy, and he’d be at their mercy.

  And if it were Delta, or some other friendly, the best way to help them was to haul ass out of here so they could disengage.

  He spotted a large stone ahead, one that appeared to have been freshly deposited from the explosion, and inhaled deeply, steadying his nerves.

  Here goes nothing.

  He rose and sprinted toward the rock, diving behind it then pressing his back against it.

  And not a shot was fired in his direction.

  Okay, this might just work.

  He picked his next target and readied himself.

  62 |

  Acton/Palmer Residence St. Paul, Maryland

  Reading winced as Mai hugged him hard, his wounds protesting angrily. But he didn’t care. The horror of a moment ago had been replaced by jubilation in the room. Tommy was jumping up and down, fist-pumping his relief, as Mai wiped fresh tears of joy after so many of pain.

  And his poor heart slowly eased back on the hammering as relief set in.

  His friend was alive.

  And being an idiot once again.

  They all stared at the screen, the live feed provided by Langley welcome but horrifying, especially the bits of comms traffic. Right now, he was focused on what Acton was doing. He was alive and sprinting from one large rock to another, pushing his luck each time as he attempted to put some distance between himself and the fighting.

  Reading could understand the motivation. While Leather’s team was taking on the enemy, why not take advantage of the distraction and make your escape? But his friend had already somehow cheated death once. Tempting fate twice seemed unwise.

  Though would he have done anything differently?

  Reading was just thankful his friend hadn’t joined in the firefight and drawn even more attention to himself. For the moment, Leather’s team of five were keeping the Syrians and Russians preoccupied, but he could tell things were about to take a turn for the worse.

  The Wagner mercenaries were regrouping and directing their Syrian counterparts as heavier weaponry was retrieved from their vehicles. This battle would soon be over if Delta didn’t get there soon, and even then, they were only six.

  He might yet lose his friend today.

  63 |

  Burial Site South of Homs, Syria

  Acton crouched behind another large rock, one of the last that lay ahead of him. He had already cleared the majority of the debris field left behind by the Keepers’ explosion that destroyed all the evidence of why they were here and allowed his captors a sinful exit from the world created by their troubling discovery.

  Such a waste.

  The moral debate over what they had done, however, would have to wait for another time. He had to figure out a way out of here that didn’t leave him horribly exposed. If he crawled the rest of the way, he would remain out of sight, but with the distance left to cover, the fight behind him could be long over before he could clear the gorge. As well, he had to think of whoever was behind him, fighting his enemies for him. It had to be Delta, and the sooner he was safely out of here, the sooner they could withdraw.

  He rose to a knee, ready to do a poor imitation of Usain Bolt when a series of odd popping sounds were followed by several strange reports that echoed through the gorge. An explosion erupted behind him and he spun as two more blasts tore through the area. The vehicles the enemy had arrived in burst into fireballs, screams from some of the troops sending a shiver down his spine as the entire gorge filled with a white smoke that had nothing to do with the fires now raging.

  “Friendlies on your six!” came a voice from behind that he recognized as Dawson’s. He spun again to see half a dozen men in desert gear rushing toward him, M4s raised, Dawson in the lead. The instantly recognizable Atlas was carrying some beast of a weapon slung over his shoulder that Acton suspected was what had taken out the vehicles. Dawson pointed at him and Niner rushed forward, dropping to a knee.

  “Man, am I happy to see you guys.” Acton’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, if you’re here, who’s back there?”

  “Leather and his team.” Niner spun him around and checked his back. He whistled. “Doc, you are one lucky sonofabitch. Not a scratch. But you’re going to have one hell of a bruise. When the adrenaline wears off, you’re going to be in for a world of hurt for a few days.”

  “I can live with that.” Gunfire erupted from Bravo Team and Acton jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Go join your buddies. I’ll be fine.”

  Niner slapped him on the shoulder then turned his back to him, showing him his backpack. “Main pouch. Body armor.” Acton opened the backpack and pulled out the armor, immediately donning it and tightening it up. Niner pointed in the direction they had arrived from. “Head that way. You’ll find our SUV at the far end. It’s up-armored. Get inside, stay low.”

  Acton shook his head. “Give me a weapon. I can help.”

  “Bullshit. We’re here to save your ass. If you get killed, then we’ll have wasted a perfectly good day, and I swear I’ll marry your wife. Get the hell out of here, Doc.”

  Acton chuckled then smacked the warrior on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.” He scrambled back to his feet and sprinted toward the far end of the gorge as his friends continued to engage, and he said a silent prayer to both God and Jesus Christ for their safety, wondering if one was a wasted effort.

  Dawson slipped his gasmask in place as he and the others continued forward through the mix of smoke grenades and tear gas. The enemy was coughing and gasping for breath as his men on the ground and Leather’s from the hilltops eliminated the struggling hostiles. It was now a turkey shoot. He had no problem killing any of these men. The Russians were vermin, and the Syrians little better—he had no doubt they had violated plenty of human rights during their stints serving their country.

  The detonations from the Gustaf’s several rounds had done a lot of their work for them, taking out over half the hostiles according to his update from Langley as they had entered the fray. The confusion that ensued had allowed Leather’s team to fire freely, and Bravo Team merely mopped up what was left.

  Fast and effective.

  Just the way he liked it.

  “Hold your fire!” he ordered as it became clear the only weapons firing were friendly. The guns fell silent as the breeze channeling through the gorge cleared out the smoke and tear gas. He slung his M4 and drew his Glock, carefully stepping through the carnage. Some of the enemy could still be alive and stupid enough to make a last stand. He had no intention of executing anyone, but he would remove them from this world should they pose a threat.

  Something moved to his left and Atlas fired, putting two rounds in the head of a Wagner scumbag as he reached for his weapon beside him.

  Definitely no tears shed for him.

  They finished clearing the area and Dawson held up a hand. “All clear!” He peered up at the hilltops and saw Leather and his men emerge on either side, waving down at them.

  “It’s about time you showed up,” called Leather with a smile.

  Dawson shrugged. “I figured you could handle things yourselves. Was I wrong?”

  “Naw, we just needed a few more minutes.”

  “Zero-One, Control. We’ve got multiple enemy units headed your way. It looks like your firefight caught their attention or they got a call out. Either way, the forward elements will reach you within five minutes, over.”

  Dawson cursed. “Which end of the gorge will they arrive at first?”

  “East end where you came in from.”

  Another curse. “ETA on our evac?”

  “Ten minutes.”

  Yet another curse. “Understood. Have them land at the west end of the gorge and tell them to hurry the hell up.”

  “Copy that, Zero-One. Control, out.”

  Dawson turned to Niner. “Go get the Doc. We’ve got more shit headed our way, and they’ll be reaching him first.”

  Niner gave a two-fingered salute then shrugged out of his backpack before sprinting in the direction he had sent Acton only minutes before.

  Dawson waved up to Leather. “Hold your positions! We’ve got hostiles coming in from both directions. First arriving at the east end, ETA five minutes. This isn’t over yet.”

  Leather gave him a thumbs-up then disappeared along with the others on the high ground.

  “Spock, rig some boobytraps in this wreckage. I want anyone coming through here on foot wishing they hadn’t. We’re going to go set up a welcoming committee at the west end of the gorge. You hang back and make sure your handiwork doesn’t take out the Doc and Niner.”

  “You got it, BD.”

  Dawson waved a hand at the others. “Let’s get a move on, gentlemen. We’ve got an LZ to secure.”

  Acton spotted the SUV and breathed a relieved sigh as he slammed against it, gasping for breath. Niner had been right. He had been running on adrenaline, and now that it was clearing his system, the pain was setting in. He had a feeling he had some bruised ribs, perhaps from the fall, and his breathing was slightly labored. If he were at Home Depot, he wouldn’t be concerned, but he was in Syria less than a mile from intense fighting.

  The pounding in his ears slowly settled and he noticed the gunfire had stopped. He had to assume the good guys had won after what he had seen upon Bravo Team’s arrival. They were exceptional, and it showed what excellent training and the right firepower could do even when outnumbered. They had walked in, fired some sort of anti-tank weapon a few times, lobbed in smoke and tear gas, then gone to town.

  He’d be surprised if the entire battle had lasted more than five minutes.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat and found the keys in the visor. He fired up the engine and cranked the air conditioning, enjoying the cool air as it wafted over him. The body armor was uncomfortable and hot, but it could save his life should something go wrong. He had learned long ago to never assume things were over just because the gunfire had stopped.

  He took the opportunity to give the cabin a once over, and found spare comms gear sitting in the console. He fit it in place and gulped.

  “—three minutes. You need to get the primary out of there before they arrive.”

  “This is One-One. I’m on it. I can only run so damned fast.”

  Acton recognized Niner’s voice. The questions were, who was the primary, and who was arriving? He activated the comms. “This is Acton. I found a spare set of comms.”

 

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