Уильям Дитц - Seek and Destroy

Victoria didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Was there some sort of purpose behind the grilling? Or was Howard mind fucking her for the fun of it? “My activities in Afghanistan are classified,” Victoria told him. “As are many of yours.”

Howard reached inside his jacket and dragged a shiny revolver out into the light. Victoria felt a stab of fear. He was going to shoot her! And there was nothing she could do about it. “Maybe you worked for the dark side, and maybe you’re full of shit,” Howard said. “Let’s find out. Guards! Grab that girl!”

Howard’s left index finger was pointed at a girl with mousy-brown hair. She had glasses and was dressed in one of the sack-style dresses that all of the female servants were required to wear. She uttered a shriek of fear and tried to run. Two men grabbed the teen and held her arms. She was sobbing by then—and a puddle of urine appeared between her feet.

Howard’s eyes were on Victoria. “If you’re the woman you say you are, then you know this is a Colt Python and that it holds six rounds.”

As if to illustrate that fact, Howard flipped the cylinder open—and dumped six shiny .357 cartridges onto the table next to him. He chose one of the bullets and held it up to the light as if inspecting it for flaws. Then he inserted the cartridge into an empty chamber, flipped the cylinder closed, and ran it along the outside surface of his left arm. Victoria heard a series of clicks.

“Here,” Howard said as he offered the weapon butt first. “If you want an alliance with the horde, then aim the pistol at the girl and squeeze the trigger. Maybe the bullet will rotate in under the hammer, and maybe it won’t. But either way, I will take you seriously from that point forward. Or you can run back to Daddy. You choose.”

Victoria wanted to laugh. Howard thought he was talking to Robin! Or someone like Robin… And that was a mistake.

A dog growled as she unhooked the velvet rope, stepped forward, and accepted the Colt. She could have killed the warlord of warlords then, and his bodyguards knew it. At least six weapons were pointed at her.

Victoria smiled, pointed the barrel of the handgun up at the ceiling, and turned to the teenager. The men who stood to each side of her looked worried. What if the woman with the Colt missed? But orders were orders, and they had no choice. “Pull her arms straight out,” Victoria instructed.

The girl struggled, but the men were too strong for her. Victoria held the revolver in a two-handed grip, took aim, and waited for Howard to stop her. He didn’t. She pulled the hammer back to full cock and squeezed the trigger. The hammer fell, and the Colt bucked in her hands. The big slug hit the teen with such force that it passed through her chest and hit the wall beyond. The guards let go of the body, and it slumped to the floor.

“Well, well,” Howard said, as Victoria handed the pistol to Jebe. “You are for real. Let’s have lunch… There’s a great deal to talk about.”

CASPER, WYOMING

The so-called com cave was a side room just off Fort Carney’s underground command center. Flat-panel screens covered two of the four walls—and cables ran like snakes between the timbers that helped to support the ceiling. The cave was where the battalion’s UAV pilots spent their time when not in the field, and Mo Henry was no exception. She got up from her chair when Mac entered. “Good morning, Sergeant… What’s up?”

“There’s something I want you to see, ma’am. Remember the motion-activated cameras we left on the airstrip? We scored some footage.”

Mac looked at the screen that fronted Henry’s chair. There was nothing to see at first. Just a field of white and some dark, snow-crusted rocks beyond. Then a small plane entered the frame, touched down, and blew snow every which way as the pilot stood on the brakes. “All right,” Mac said. “This should be interesting.”

Unfortunately, there was very little to be learned as the plane stopped and turned. Four people entered the picture. All of them were mounted on horses. One dropped to the ground. He or she was wearing a pack. But that’s as much as Mac could determine as the person was enveloped by the cloud of snow associated with the plane’s prop wash.

The man or woman climbed up into the cabin, and the Cessna took off two minutes later. That left Mac with more questions than answers. Someone had a secret airstrip. But who ? And why ? She sighed. “Thanks, Henry. Let’s pull those cameras the next time a patrol goes in that direction.”

From there, Mac returned to the surface, where the sky was clear, but the air was cold. A short walk took her over to the battalion command shack. The premission briefing was scheduled for 0800, and the conference room was crammed with people, including a civilian scout named Wilbur Stratton. Charlie Company’s CO was present, too. Captain Lightfoot had a round, almost cherubic face—and was known for his sense of humor.

There was a stir, and a platoon leader shouted, “Atten-hut!” as Crowley entered the room. Crowley was dressed in full Western regalia, and his high-heeled boots made a clumping sound as he made his way to the head of the table. “At ease. Please sit down,” Crowley said as he looked around. “All of you know why you’re here… But some may wonder about the late start. There is, I assure you, a method to our madness.”

Having already snapped a couple of photos, Lieutenant Casey stepped forward to rip a blank sheet of paper off a large map and throw it aside. Crowley used his swagger stick as a pointer. “The idea is to trick Howard into believing that everything is normal. At 1000 hours, Bravo Company will depart and drive north through Arminto. In the meantime, Charlie Company will go east, turn just shy of the airport, and head north from there. The companies will converge at the old Hole-in-the-Wall Hideout just before nightfall.

“The Wild Bunch used to hang out there back in the late 1800s,” Crowley added, as his eyes roamed the room. “But a warlord named Ron Goody is using the place now. He’s in the kidnapping business, so be careful… There’s a good chance that noncombatants will be present when we grease Goody. That will open the way for an all-out assault on Howard’s mountain fortress. Are there any questions?”

Stratton raised a hand. He was wearing a beat-up Stetson and a grungy parka. “Yes, Wilbur,” Crowley said. “What’s on your mind?”

Stratton had a raspy voice and a no-nonsense manner. “I think you’re making a big mistake, Colonel… I was up that way two days ago—and Howard’s people were all over the place. I’d keep those companies together if I were you.”

“Well, you aren’t me,” Crowley replied. There was a smile on his face, but that wasn’t likely to fool Stratton, or anyone else for that matter.

“We sent a drone up there this morning,” Crowley said. “And the enemy’s there… But not in the numbers you suggest. Plus, the element of surprise should give us a significant advantage.”

“There ain’t gonna be no surprise,” Stratton insisted. “Howard has spies everywhere . That includes inside this fort. So when you head out, he’ll be waiting.”

It was starting to feel uncomfortable in the conference room. Crowley frowned. “That’s an interesting assertion, Wilbur… But it isn’t true. We surprised Cory Burns at Arminto.”

“You got lucky in Arminto,” Stratton replied.