Mercury Rising, page 16
“Something else?” Barrett asked.
“Yeah, Perry was setting up another shipment but told me to make sure that only two other guys were involved in it instead of the usual five or six. So, I was helping load the shipment at the airfield late one night and Perry told me to keep an eye out for the MPs on patrol. After a half hour, I hadn’t heard from him and started to get worried. I waited until the MPs were gone and knew they wouldn’t be back for a while. That’s when I snuck inside the warehouse where we were prepping the shipment and saw Perry inserting some strange compartment into the cab of the back hoe. Before I said anything, I saw him helping some guy inside. Then Perry stopped and looked across the warehouse, acting like he’d heard something. I ducked into the shadows and then pulled out my phone, zoomed in on the guy, and snapped a picture.”
“Did you recognize him?” Watts asked.
“He looked like some run-of-the-mill Middle Eastern dude to me,” Lynch said. “Maybe a little bit more muscular than the average fellow, though it’s often hard to tell if any of them are buff underneath all those robes. But this guy was in a tight shirt and looked like he’d spent some time in a gym. So, in short, nothing special as far as I was concerned. However, I was still curious who he was since Perry was going through great lengths to hide him. I emailed the photo to a buddy of mine who worked in counter intelligence and asked him if he could run facial recognition on the guy. Two weeks later, my buddy wants to know where the hell I saw the guy. That’s when I started to get worried. I told him that one of my friends took the picture while he was on a mission in the mountains and was curious if he was anybody special. Turned out to be a suspected Iranian agent. I got questioned about the photo from one of my superiors, so I just lied my ass off. Word must’ve gotten back to Perry because he asked me where the picture really came from. I told him I wasn’t lying. He wanted to see the photo, but I told him my phone dropped out of my pocket and got run over by some equipment we were loading. But I don’t think he believed me.”
“And that was that?” Barrett asked.
“It was—for a while. When I got back, we all collected our money. Julie and I used the money for fertility treatments and—voila!—Amelia came along. I’d almost forgotten about the whole thing. But then I was going through some old photos and found one of the crew. I thought I’d reach out to a few of them and find out how they’d been since we all went our separate ways. I called the first three and heard they had all died. One had committed suicide, while another drowned. Another guy drove off the side of a mountain when his tired supposedly blew out. Then there was Perry and his hunting accident. I started thinking, what are the odds all those people just randomly died? Well, I figured out it wasn’t so random. That’s when I told my wife I was going on a solo sailing trip and disappeared. I abandoned my boat at sea and then made my way to the wilderness area. They found the boat dashed against the rocks and I was presumed dead, though the insurance company apparently didn’t assume that if you’re telling me Julie can’t afford to pay Amelia’s medical bills. I’d go back if I ever felt it was safe, but as long as Col. Sanders is alive, it’s not safe for me or my family. He’s apparently tying up some loose ends.”
Barrett pursed his lips and squinted. “And you’ve got no idea who this guy is?”
“Not a clue, but it’s got to be someone high up with plenty of power. There’s no way we could’ve navigated all the checkpoints without a shit ton of people on the payroll, if you know what I mean. Once all those people started dying, I realized Col. Sanders was trying to memory hole everyone, and I didn’t want to be next. Now, I know what I did was wrong, but I was desperate. Julie and I were desperate. And every day I wake up in the middle of the wilderness, I think about what I did. I’m not saying I regret everything, but I certainly wish I could’ve done things differently.”
“So, do you think the Colonel was trying to assemble a sleeper cell?” Barrett asked.
“That’s what it seemed like to me,” Lynch said. “But that’s just a hunch, though I can’t imagine why else he’d be trying to get someone like that into the country.”
“Well, the way Sanders is aggressively eliminating all the military personnel who’d helped him with his smuggling operation makes me think he might be gearing up to launch some type of operation.”
Lynch took a long sip of his coffee and shook his head. “I learned a long time ago that the Colonel is a monster. And you’re going to have to make him stop.”
“We just need to figure out who the hell he is first.”
Lynch sighed and stared out the window. “You know, I saw some of the reports online, read the comments, too. I know people think I’m a coward for leaving my wife and daughter, but the truth is I was trying to save them. Still am, if I’m being honest.”
“I think it’s high time we change the narrative,” Watts said with a wink.
“That’s right,” Barrett said. “You can come with us, if you like. But no pressure.”
Lynch closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Of course I want to go after him, but it feels safer to me if I stay dead. It’s just that—”
Lynch stopped as his wooden mug splintered, coffee flying in all directions. Before Barrett could register what happened, he heard the sound of glass tinking on the floor.
A bullet.
Barrett didn’t try to analyze the angle or even who would’ve been shooting at him. All he cared about was getting Lynch to the floor before another bullet whistled through the window. Barrett dove toward Lynch, putting a shoulder into him and driving him to the floor. Meanwhile, he warned Watts and Stone to do likewise.
Barrett landed on top of Lynch, blood blooming from the hole in his shoulder. He winced, sucking in a short breath. Then he growled.
“It’s okay,” Barrett said. “I’ve got you.”
“Damn it,” Lynch said through clenched teeth. “They finally found me. After three years, I—”
“I swear I would’ve never come here if I thought someone was following us,” Barrett said.
More bullets tore through the window, shattering each pane as they embedded into the walls and furniture.
“It’s not your fault,” Lynch said before swearing profusely. “These assholes probably knew where I was this whole time.”
“We’re gonna get you out of here,” Watts said.
Barrett dragged Lynch over behind the couch and fashioned a tourniquet to stop the bleeding before squeezing his hand.
Lynch looked up at Barrett. “If something happens to me—”
“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Barrett said.
“But if it does,” Lynch said then paused for a deep breath, “promise me you’ll get that carving of Butch to Amelia.”
Barrett shook his head. “Not a chance. I’m going to make sure you deliver it to her yourself.”
Barrett racked the slide on his gun and hustled over toward the window. Peering through the broken frame, he counted muzzle flashes in the tree line.
Three shooters, maybe four. Professional spacing and timing.
Lynch wasn’t their only target. He was bait too.
And Barrett had just walked his team into a trap.
CHAPTER 21
RIVER OF NO RETURN WILDERNESS AREA | IDAHO
Barrett removed the remaining shards of glass with the barrel of his weapon, giving him a clearer field of vision. Even though it was mid-afternoon, a hazy fog had settled over the woods, creating a thick veil. If it was night, he’d at least be able to use his night-vision goggles to see the men. But for the time being, Barrett was wedged between too light for the technology he had and too dark to make out the silhouettes of the men lurking in the shadows.
Bullets whizzed by him, stitching the back wall of the cabin. One shot splintered a rack from a moose Lynch had mounted above a door to the back porch.
Watts peered around the side of the table at Barrett. “We’ve gotta do something, Blake. He’s still losing blood.”
Barrett kicked his rucksack over to her. “I should have at least one package of QuikClot in there.”
“Got it,” she said as she disappeared behind the table.
Barrett felt hemmed in—and he wasn’t sure how much longer he and Stone would be able to hold off the attackers, if at all. Then he scrambled to the other side of the cabin, kneeling as he cracked the door open. For the first few seconds, the door was open, he heard nothing. He considered sticking his head outside but thought better of it. Instead, he found a pencil on a nearby table, placed his hand on the end with the eraser, and eased his baseball cap onto it before poking it into the open. Almost immediately, a bullet tore through the cap, leaving a large hole in it.
Shit. We’re surrounded.
Barrett crawled over to Lynch, who was fading in and out of consciousness. Slapping Lynch’s face several times to keep him awake, Barrett hunched over the man, desperate for information.
“Come on, Lynch. Don’t go dying on me now,” Barrett said.
“I’m still here,” Lynch muttered.
“Good,” Barrett said. “Hang with us. Now, is there another way outta here?”
Lynch nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes darting toward the center of the room. “That was the first thing I did after I built this place. Took me eighteen months and—”
“I’d love to hear the history, but I just need short and sweet answers now,” Barrett said as more bullets peppered the cabin.
“Sure,” Lynch said as he coughed. “There’s a hatch under that chair over there. It’ll take you about a hundred meters due east of here. It’ll come up in the woods next to a fallen pine.”
“Copy that,” Barrett said and then turned to Watts. “Put your coms in.”
Barrett crawled on his belly across the floor over to Stone, who was spraying the woods with bullets whenever there was a lull in the assault. After he drew back and took cover behind the outside wall, Barrett tapped Stone on the foot.
“Stoney, I’m going out there to see if I can even the odds for us,” Barrett said.
“Are you crazy? You’ll be dead before you get off the porch.”
“I’m not going on the porch,” Barrett said with a wink. “I’m going under. There’s a tunnel that’ll spit me out east of the cabin in the woods. Just put your coms in so we can communicate.”
Stone nodded emphatically once. “Give ‘em hell.”
“You too.”
Barrett wormed his way back to the chair, shoved it aside, and peeled back the hatch. He inserted his coms and then disappeared into the hole, pulling the door closed behind him.
The tunnel was cramped, though more spacious that Barrett imagined. He had a couple of inches on each side and it was tall enough for him to crawl through on his hands and knees with a few inches of headroom to spare. The soil was damp but not muddy, which surprised Barrett. He half-expected he would have to wallow his way through the chute like a sow marched to slaughter. It was a pleasant surprise, the only one he’d had that day, other than Lynch allowing them into his cabin.
As Barrett plodded forward, he reviewed all the information Lynch had just given him and his team. Whoever Col. Sanders was, his actions could be considered treasonous at best. Smuggling Iranian operatives into the country to form a sleeper cell? What kind of psychopath does that? The fact that the Echo Syndicate directed such an operation didn’t completely surprise Barrett. Based on what he knew about the organization, it was working behind the scenes to undermine the wishes of the U.S. government. But to what end? Why go through such lengths to hide these people in plain sight? While the ultimate aim of the Echo Syndicate remained a mystery, the Colonel had designs on creating havoc at some point. And with all that was happening in the shadows, Barrett couldn’t help but wonder if whatever actions Col. Sanders had planned were imminent. Did the Colonel simply need to eliminate any potential speed bumps before charging full speed ahead?
Those questions were plenty to ponder, but Barrett put them aside as he determined he was nearing the exit. He needed a more immediate plan, one that could help him eliminate at least two of the snipers he’d counted and give his people inside the cabin a fighting chance.
The passageway began to ascend as it grew more and more cramped. After a few steps from the crawling position, he was on his belly, wriggling his way down the last section. The tunnel dropped down again, and Barrett almost dove head first inside. If he had, he wasn’t sure he would’ve ever been able to flip around and get upright. Instead, he caught himself in time and then lowered his feet into the space. He was able to stand up, allowing him to maximize his leverage against the door.
He paused at the hatch and eased it open.
Where’d everybody go?
Two shots bit into the bark of nearby trees, sending Barrett scrambling for cover. He slid behind the truck of a pine and more bullets peppered the ground.
So much for my plan.
Barrett wasn’t sure what changed during the time he was in the tunnel, but the men had fanned out, putting him at a disadvantage. He reached for his Ka-Bar knife with his left hand and eased it out of the holster, his right still clutching his Sig Sauer. If he could avoid firing his weapon, he could avoid attracting unwanted attention. One shot and the entire forest would know his location.
He heard footsteps approaching behind him to his right. He used the face of his watch as a makeshift mirror to determine how close anyone was. Within a few seconds, the operative was almost on him. Barrett sprang up from his position and circled around the tree, getting behind the man. Barrett’s first attempt missed as the man dove aside. But as he went to fire his weapon, Barrett slashed the man’s hand, forcing him to drop his weapon. Suddenly disarmed, he swung wildly at Barrett. The man drew in a deep breath as he rolled over to escape Barrett, but he pounced on his opportunity, sliding the blade through the back of the combatant’s neck as he tried to stand. The man flailed for a second, the surprise of the attack still struggling to register with him. He fell to his knees before crashing face-first into the dirt.
Barrett grabbed the man’s coms device and inserted it into his ear.
“Where you at, Ace?” one of the men said.
Barrett waited a beat, unsure if he’d just filleted Ace or someone else. No one answered.
“Ace, where are you?” the man asked again.
“I’m to the east of the cabin,” Barrett said, doing his best to disguise his voice.
He held his breath, wondering if the men would buy.
“Stay where you are,” the man replied. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”
Barrett hustled back to where Ace’s body still laid and then dove behind a nearby fallen tree. He waited until he heard footsteps, at first slowly and then quickly. Barrett peeked over the top of the log to see a confused look on the agent’s face. He spun to his left and then right, searching for whoever might have done this. As soon as he committed to leaving the area, Barrett leaped over the log and rammed the knife through the man’s back, puncturing his heart. The hostile wobbled a few steps and was about to cry out before Barrett yanked the knife free and slipped it straight into the man’s throat. His hands went to his throat as he gasped for air and then fell dead.
“Ace is dead,” Barrett said over the Echo coms.
“You’re shittin’ me,” the other man said. “From a bullet?”
“Yeah. Looks like that bastard inside got off a lucky shot,” Barrett said, disguising his voice like the other man he’d heard.
“Damn,” the other guard said. “You sure he’s gone?”
“He doesn’t have a pulse.”
“Shit. I’m coming over.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Barrett asked, continuing to mimic the man’s voice.
“No man left behind, remember?”
Barrett grabbed the man’s cap and took up a position against a nearby tree, turning his back to them and waiting to discern the more accurate direction of their approach so he could adjust his position.
A half minute later, one of the other operatives approached and Barrett waited as long as he could before spinning around and driving his Ka-bar into the man’s chest.
“Stoney, you read me?” Barrett asked on his team’s coms.
“Loud and clear. Now what the hell did you do out there? It’s quieter than Dan Quayle in the second round of a spelling bee.”
“Three hostiles down,” Barrett whispered. “One to go.”
“Damn. You’re out there pulling Last of the Mohicans shit, aren’t you?” Stone said.
“Doing my best.”
“Want me to help you lure out the final one?”
“You read my mind,” Barrett said.
“Stand by,” Stone said.
A minute later, Barrett noticed movement inside the cabin. Then he saw a cap jut past the window, pausing halfway across before an arm emerged and fired several times into the forest. Once the arm was withdrawn along with the weapon, the cap darted to the other side.
Nothing.
“You sure you didn’t kill all of ‘em?” Stone asked.
“Rest assured, there’s one more hostile still out there,” Barrett said.
“Try it again,” Watts said.
Stone sighed heavily before agreeing. “Okay, just one more time.”
“If it’s any consolation, Stoney, I thought the movement looked real, almost to the point that I wanted to warn to keep your head down.”
“Then if I do this a second time, he’ll fire, right?”
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Barrett said.
A few seconds later, the hat eked out into the open. But it wasn’t so quiet the second pass. Gunfire erupted, bullets chewing through the wood around the frame and splintering it.
“Damnit,” Stone said. “That bastard is firing fifty caliber rounds at us. I wouldn’t be half surprised if a grenade tore through the front door at this point.”
“Too heavy,” Barrett said. “But just be patient. I got this.”
