CHAPTERONE
With a slap and a slide,theTop Secretfolder containing the details of Chase Mackenzie’s next mission landed on the boardroom table, sending an assortment of maps, GPS coordinates, and satellite images spewing across the laminated surface.
“Yourfiancée called.Again,” Peter Hoyt said. “Make her stop, Mackenzie, or I’m blocking her number. I’ve got more important things to do than pass along your messages.”
At the mention of hisex-fiancée, a hit of guilt nailed Chase in the solar plexus. Holly had been after him for weeks to call so they could settle their financial affairs. He’d been putting it off, preferring to focus on work instead of dealing with his messed-up personal life.
“Shut the fuck up, Hoyt.” Seated across the table, former marine Cody Babbitt gathered a couple of documents before handing them over to Chase. “Ordering pizza isn’t exactly mission critical.”
“This coming from the asshole who consumes his body weight in food at every meal.”
“Eat me, fuck face.” Cody flipped Hoyt the finger, and Chase had to work double overtime to quell the urge to punch the colonel’s assistant in the nuts as he passed by. Payback for all the times Hoyt went out of his way to annoy the shit out of the rest of them.
A quick strike and Hoyt would be down and out, curled in a ball on the scuffed parquet floor, cupping his gonads as they throbbed to the beat of his black heart. Chase wouldn’t even need to leave the comfort of his chair to execute the maneuver. Not that the old wooden office chair offered anything in the way of comfort.
Nope. Located on the outskirts of Palo Pinto, Texas, the Brazos Wilderness Camp for Boys hadn’t been designed to accommodate an elite special operations unit by any stretch of the imagination. Hell. He’d probably be rewarded with a six-inch splinter in his sphincter for his efforts.
“Let’s get to it,” Colonel William Grayson said, entering the games room turned COMMs center from the rear hall where the main building’s offices were located. He accepted the file handed to him by Hoyt with a sharp nod. “Reschedule my meeting with Secretary Johnson to late afternoon, and have lunch here by noon. Until then, no interruptions, Corporal. We have a lot of ground to cover. And for the love of God and country, order something other than pizza. Close the door on your way out.”
“Yes, sir.” If the colonel hadn’t already opened his file, he might have noticed the scowl take over his assistant’s features following the abrupt dismissal. Hoyt wasn’t a part of the operational aspects of their mission, and he resented the hell out of it.
As the door banged shut, the colonel took his designated seat next to Chase.
“Sir, with respect to—”
Colonel Grayson cut Cody off with a raised palm. “I’m aware of your concerns, Babbitt. The subject of Corporal Hoyt is not open for discussion.”
“I don’t trust him, Colonel.”
“You’ve made that clear. Let’s move on. Mann, put the latest intel up on the SmartBoard.”
What the Joint Task Team’s home base lacked in modern comfort, it more than made up for with the latest in computer technology. Thanks to Jay Mann, their hardware was top-of-the-line everything.
With a couple of quick clicks of his mouse, Jay projected a series of email exchanges on the big screen. “Okay. We know Victor Bodak is demanding a face-to-face with Wright before handing over any information on port locations. After hacking into Bodak’s computer system, we have the details on where the weapons are landing and when. What we don’t know is why Wright wants the arsenal brought into the US or what his intended targets are.”
Chase shook his head. Until recently, international arms dealer Victor Bodak shipped most of the small arms he trafficked in from Russia, China, and the United States to conflict zones in the Middle East, Africa, and South America.
Three months ago, things had changed. A pawn in Wright’s terrorist plot, Bodak had been instructed to smuggle his entire arsenal stateside. All of it. The handguns. The assault rifles. The explosives. The surface-to-air missiles.
All of it. Loaded onto cargo ships and heading straight for the United States.
In the next ten days, a shit ton of armament would be landing at ports across the country. Sure, the JTT would stop Bodak’s weapons from ever being used against Americans. Stopping the attack had never been the issue. They had contingencies in place for that.
The goal of their mission had been singular from the start. Uncover the identity of Mr. Wright—the mastermind behind the attack—before he could scurry back into whatever hole he’d crawled out of.
In that regard, they’d failed on all fronts.
“We also know,” the colonel said, shuffling through the contents of his dossier, “Wright agreed to the meeting, but he’s a cagey bastard, and he’s offered up four potential locations. He won’t reveal the exact whereabouts of the rendezvous until twelve hours before the meeting takes place. Gives Bodak plenty of time to get there by private jet. Unfortunately, we don’t have the same advantage. Means we need to be at all four sites in advance. Sergeant Mackenzie has worked out the logistical details for each location. Sergeant…”
In response to the growing domestic terrorist threat posed by the elusive Mr. Wright, Chase was one of six men from various military and enforcement backgrounds recruited to form a joint task team under the command of the colonel.
Each of them brought different skills to the table. Chase’s specialty was tactical reconnaissance and planning. Not super sexy, but hard to accomplish mission goals if you’re following the wrong people while heading in the wrong direction.
“All right, let’s make some plans to find this asshole.” Putting any thoughts but the upcoming mission out of his head, Chase turned to Jamie Snow. “You’re up first, Doc.”
They spent the next six hours going over the operational details for each assignment, stopping only once to grab plates of lasagna when the food arrived. By the time they finished, dirty dishes and empty cola cans littered the boardroom.
“Jesus,” Cody mumbled at the tail end of the briefing. Hands behind his head, he leaned back in his chair. “Needle meet fucking haystack.”
