The Lonely Hearts 06 The Grunt 2 Page 3

  If one had never thought about their mortality before, they thought about it then, being as small as ants in a world so vast that it could suck them up before anyone could notice. The twinkling stars and the full moon in the sky looked close enough for the men to reach out and touch, and the ground so infinite below looked like it was a million miles away while they dwelled somewhere in the middle of this world and the next.

  Brett stood by the opening, hitting each man on his back as they plunged out into the night in a free fall.

  They looked angelic as they fell from the heavens under the moonlight, but in fact, they were trained killers, the whole lot of them, going to do the government’s bidding.

  With a nod toward the Birdman, Brett prepared in his own way. Checking his gear and his lucky watch, he clasped the sides of the entryway with his gloved fingers, looked out at the vast world below him, imagined his family back home, and made the unreturnable leap toward danger.

  With his arms splayed wide, he cut through the thin clouds in a perfect arch, feeling his body become one with the air. His massive, brawny frame, while formidable on land, dropped through the atmosphere like penny off a tower.

  Balancing himself out, he fell hundreds of feet before he checked his wrist detector and pulled the rip cord on his parachute when he had reached the right altitude.

  The parachute exploded open violently, giving him a small familiar jolt as he navigated it down into darkness.

  Brett bent his knees before his boots hit the ground. Dust billowed up around him while his feet crunched dry soil below. The sound of a perfect landing was always a welcomed one.

  Releasing himself from the parachute, he pulled his earpieces from inside of his tactical gear and knelt in a crouched position to look around.

  It was dead silent around him. No motion. No lights. No people.

  “Check in Bulldog Team,” he said, listening as all the men sounded off on their tactical communications equipment. All five men were right around him, but with no light, they were nearly impossible to see, save the light coming off some of the men’s tactical watches. He waited while his eyes naturally adjusted to the night.

  As soon as his voice registered on the radio, the Command Center back at the base went live. Captain Lawless, who had been leaning on his desk, glaring impatiently at the blank wall of monitors, popped up and put his coffee mug down.

  “Bulldog Four to Nest, we are live. I repeat, Bulldog Team is live,” Brett said, just below a whisper as the men gathered closely; ready to move on the Captain’s command.

  “Do we have eyes on our men yet?” Captain Lawless asked, glaring at his Comms Specialist.

  The young Specialist quickly averted his eyes to the monitor while the screen in front of them linked to the satellite and produced a night vision picture. “We are live, sir,” the young man said, typing into his computer.

  Captain Lawless turned to his second-in-command but did not bother to look him in the eye. “Get the General now,” he ordered, taking a wide stance in the middle of the floor and watching the operation from the body cameras installed on each man.

  This was what Captain Lawless did best. In this command room, he was a warrior, a strategist and a swift hand for the U. S. Marine Corps. The sudden pride that always overcame him made him want to sing God Bless America, but for now, he would just settle for kicking some ass.

  “Zoom into Bulldog Four,” Captain Lawless said flatly. He slipped on his earpiece to communicate with the team. “Bulldog Four, we have eyes. Satellite says you’re good to go. Proceed.”

  Slipping on his night vision googles, Brett wiped sweat from his brow. “Copy that,” he said, making a knife hand motion for the men to advance toward the house.

  They humped fast and low, but still paying attention the entire time to the ground, making sure to avoid possible land mines.

  When they arrived to the house, which sat down in the valley, they surveilled their surroundings. The back of the house was surrounded by an elevated hill with a steep incline. It was perfect for them to take initial cover and monitor the surroundings. Plus, the view spanned out at least a mile out down the dirt road.

  Exactly 10 under trained insurgents were guarding the perimeter, all carrying AK-47s. None of them looked too formidable, a possible walk in the park for the sniper, Bear, who had already taken his position.

  Each one of Brett’s men had a specific talent, but Rusty was special at crawling fast. His tall lean body could slide against any surface like a snake. Moving toward the two-story white washed house as soon as the guards had moved out sight, Rusty made his way to the side of the house and stuck a listening device on the exterior wall.

  As Rusty made it back to his position up on the hill, Captain Lawless tapped his ear and raised a brow. “We have sound, Bulldog Four,” he confirmed to Brett.

  The Marine Corps Farsi translator listened in through the device and typed the conversation going on in the house into a system that showed up on one of the large monitors in front of Captain Lawless in English, although the Captain prided himself in reading Farsi just fine.

  Evidently based upon the insurgents’ conversation between each other, they were exhausted and hungry from packing all day and were anxious to move to their new location tonight. The Intel had been correct. This was the team’s last chance to get life-saving information.

  With his sniper rifle pointed directly at three men congregating on the opposite corner of the house, Bear slipped his finger carefully near the trigger and locked in on them.

  Captain Lawless watched on from the men’s body cameras as well as the satellite above the house. “Wait,” he said abruptly. The cameras zoomed in to the moving object coming toward the op. “You’ve got a vehicle approaching. It’s about two miles from you.”

  One of Captain Lawless’ men passed him a large black and white picture in a file. He quickly scanned it and looked back at the monitor translating the men as they talked inside of the house.

  Throwing the file down on the desk, Captain Lawless licked his lips and cracked his fingers. “The vehicle approaching may be Nabi. Don’t move in until you have a visual confirmation that it is, and he is inside of the house.”

  “Check,” Brett responded.

  The tension intensified immediately. They all knew that it was a possibility that the target could show, but now the second layer of the mission rolled out in front of them. Nabi was a target that the Marine Corps wanted alive. This meant this just elevated to a snatch-and-grab operation.

  Brett took a deep breath and leaned his body against the hill. “Bulldog Three get closer to the road to give me a visual on just how many people are in that vehicle,” he said calmly.

  “Copy,” a voice said.

  Not even a minute later, a tattered off-road Range Rover came down the dirt road blasting high-beam lights. As it passed, Joe radioed in. “It appears to be a man and a boy. I repeat - we have a civilian.”

  “Motherfucker!” Brett snarled.

  Taking out his binoculars, Brett zoomed in on the truck as it pulled toward the front of the house. A man in his mid-to-late 30s with a short beard and traditional Afghan dress stepped out of the truck. Guards met him and helped bring empty crates into the house from the back of the truck. A young boy barely seven years old jumped out of the passenger seat and followed his father.

  Captain Lawless didn’t blink. Watching the monitors carefully, he read the conversation between the men as the translator relayed it to the monitor.

  A tall, stately graying General walked into the war room and strode over to Captain Lawless’ side. With a nod to acknowledge the General’s presence, Captain Lawless focused in on his men. Now was not the time for ass kissing. He had lives to protect and a mission to complete.

  “What’s the status?” the General asked, taking a file passed to him by the First Lieutenant.

  “We are active on the site. Nabi has just arrived with his son,” Captain Lawless reported.

  The G
eneral’s eye twitched. “Good. Well, let’s get him back to the base and get some answers.”

  “Yes, sir,” Captain Lawless answered, rolling his shoulders.

  On the other end of the radio, Brett waited patiently. He knew that with additional people involved, especially a child, the Command Center would want to weigh their options before moving forward.

  Crossing his arms across his wide chest, Captain Lawless released a deep breath. “Move in.”

  As soon as Brett heard Captain Lawless’ voice, he was up on the hill. “Move, move,” he said quietly over the radio.

  On cue, Bear took a deep breath and as he exhaled, pulled the trigger three times. Each man standing outside fell, knees buckling under them, into the dirt before they knew what hit him. As far as Bear was concerned, it was the most painless way to go.

  Another unsuspecting insurgent moved out of the darkness into the light when he heard the thud of bodies dropping and was hit dead between the eyes by one of Bear’s bullets before he could even process that they were being attacked. His blood splattered against the wall as he fell backward without dropping his gun.

  “I could do this shit all day,” Bear said to himself. He scanned the perimeter for other possible threats as the men moved in.

  Brett and his team advanced down the hill swiftly in a two-by-two formation. Muzzles up, they surrounded the house while Bear picked off more men from his position.

  Kicking open the front door, Rusty threw a flash grenade into the house and moved back to the side with his team to take cover. “Fire in the hole!” he screamed.

  The explosion was instant and effective. The men inside, completely disoriented, grabbed their ears, ran into the walls due to temporary blindness or dropped to the ground to take cover.

  “Bulldog Four, take Nabi alive,” Captain Lawless reminded them with his hands planted on his hips. He had to will himself not to show the emotion that was overwhelming him at that moment. Since Brett had married his sister, the relationship between him and his brother-in-law had become more complicated, especially ever since the baby had been born. It wasn’t enough for him to be responsible for six military men; he was also responsible for his sister’s entire family, including his new little niece, who was ever-present in the back of his mind.

  “Copy that,” Brett said as his men rushed the house from both the front and back.

  Their voices boomed with anger and urgency as they gave direct orders to the captured.

  “Hands up!” Joe screamed at one of the men trying to bolt out of the back door. “Drop to your knees! On your fucking knees!” he ordered, motioning downward with the muzzle of his gun. He bit his lip as he cursed, feeling the old Joe coming out.

  “Hands behind your back!” Geek screamed to another man.

  “Clear!” Hound said, clearing the adjoining room.

  “Don’t fuck with me,” Rusty snarled. “You’re not necessary to the completion of this mission. I will blow your fucking head off if you give me one reason!”

  It was a fact. Even if a man did not speak a certain language, he always spoke weapons. No matter what, a gun in the face made any man comply.

  Stepping over the broken down wooden door, Brett walked into the house with two of his men on his flank. They stopped and assessed the damage and gave a visual confirmation that it was Nabi, who was now being held at gunpoint. He looked around the makeshift computer room and motioned for his men to start taking the information that they came for.

  Immediately, each man’s Comms earpiece splintered off to specialist back at the command post responsible for assisting with securing all digital evidence.

  Brett sized the target up. “Let’s get this straight before we even start. You’re coming with us,” Brett said, looking Nabi in his eyes. His voice was firm and calm. “This isn’t a request. This isn’t a negotiation.”

  Nabi swallowed hard as he looked down at his son, and then said something in Farsi.

  “Hey!” Brett yelled, making everyone in the room snap to attention. “You don’t look at him! You look at me! And speak fucking English. I know you can, Mohammad Nabi. It’s too late to play the concerned father. You brought your son into some pretty illegal fucking shit. That’s on you – not us.”

  Nabi’s eyes rolled and cut to Brett. “I’m not afraid of you,” Nabi said, spitting on the ground beside Brett’s boot. “American terrorists have been invading our country, desecrating our land for…”

  “Save your recruitment pitch; I’ve already got a job, fucker.” Brett spat on Nabi’s shirt, gun pointed directly at the man’s forehead. “One way to keep your kid alive is to not show up to do illegal activity with him in tow. And we know that you’re responsible for over 15 linguists murdered on their doorsteps among other things, you flaming piece of dog shit.”

  Brett watched Nabi carefully. Nothing about him, despite the fact that he was surrounded, said that he was willing to give up. His posture was off; he was not sweating and despite the grenade blast; he seemed more in control of his own body than the others did. This was the sign of a man still on a mission, and Brett didn’t like it one bit.

  Brett scanned the room carefully, looking for booby traps. The men swiftly packed up and bagged everything while Rusty pulled out the zip ties to take Nabi into custody.

  Still, Brett had that bad feeling in his gut, and it was only growing more noticeable by the minute.

  “You, come here,” Brett said, motioning for Nabi’s son. “With me.”

  The boy looked back at his father first for permission. He was visibly shaking, face covered in tears and pant leg covered in piss.

  Brett motioned again; this time with a louder voice, he said, “Come here now!” He knew the boy was deaf from the grenade and possibly injured. He touched his earpiece. “Advise as to how we handle the civilian,” Brett said as he kept his eye on the boy and Nabi.

  Captain Lawless’ eye twitched. This was quite a call to make. Anyone left in the house would be a victim of the airstrike that would happen in 15 minutes, but on the flip side, there was no way that the USMC wanted an insurgent’s kid on the base. He carried not political power and at his age, he had no intelligence to offer.

  Captain Lawless rubbed the bottom of his chin and pursed his lips together, knowing every decision that he made was being logged for review. “Bulldog Four, this snatch and grab is about Mohammad Nabi. This is not a field trip. Proceed as previously discussed. The civilian is not our concern.”

  “Copy that,” Brett said, rolling the dip in his mouth. “Watch him,” he ordered one of his men. He turned his attention to the boy. “You know how to get back home from here?” Brett asked with his back to Nabi.

  The boy shook his head yes.

  Brett wiped the tears from the child’s face. “Think you could make it home or at least back to the city by yourself on foot?”

  The boy shook his head yes again without saying a word.

  “Give me my son!” Nabi demanded, struggling against the wrist ties. “You have no right to speak with him!”

  Normally, this would have been the point where Brett would have used his K-bar to plant into Nabi’s hand to encourage his complete compliance, but with the cameras back at the Command Center live, he had to behave himself.

  Brett talked calmly to the scared child. “Here is what you’re going to do, boy. You’re going to walk, and walk and then walk some more until you get to someone who can help you. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy finally answered, looking back at his father.

  It was a relief that the boy spoke English. “Don’t look at him. Listen to me,” Brett said, grabbing the child’s face by his chin. “You have to get as far as you can from this place when I tell you to. You don’t stick around. If you do, you will die.”

  “I think that’s quite enough Intel,” Captain Lawless interrupted.

  Nabi’s nostrils flared. “My son doesn’t have a mother because of you Americans.” He said the word, America
ns, as if it was a curse. His teeth showed as he roared. “My town is destroyed and my country. Our women are widows. How would you feel if I killed your wife, blew her into little pieces, so small you can’t even bury her?”

  In one quick turn, Brett pressed the muzzle of his weapon to the man’s forehead, fighting every urge to pull the trigger and end him there. This guy was up to something; he could feel it. “One more word, Nabi, and you’ll no longer be in the land of the living.”

  That was no threat. It was a promise. Brett’s right index finger stroked the trigger.

  “Remember your objective,” Captain Lawless said into Brett’s earpiece as the situation became more heated.

  “I have already given my life to Allah,” Nabi said, hands still behind his head. His fingers twisted around the gold chain at the nape of his sweaty neck. “I am not afraid.”

  Instinctively, Brett bent to Nabi’s gold necklace and pulled it closer to see that it was a beacon.

  “He’s transmitting,” Brett warned, snatching the necklace off his neck. He stumped it with his boot. “Let’s move. I repeat. Bulldog Team is departing.” Brett ordered his other men out of the house. “Secure the perimeter.”

  Immediately, they turned and headed out, leaving him alone in the house with the boy, Nabi and Rusty.

  Tired of being even remotely civil, Rusty yanked Nabi roughly up to his feet. He pushed him on the back of the head. “Walk,” he ordered.

  Nabi stumbled forward and fell awkwardly on the ground toward the wooden desk, then used the tip of his nose to press a button embedded into the leg. He looked up at Brett with a smirk on his face.

  Check mate.

  Brett knew it was an intentional move before the man could hit the ground. “Move! Move! Take cover!” he said, pushing the boy back through the doorway.

  The explosion was instantaneous, and while contained to the computer room, it did the damage of destroying the remaining equipment, injuring but not killing Nabi and throwing Rusty several feet into the opposite corner.