“What the hell’s going on?” Joe yelled. Debris drifted to the ground amid the smoke and fire and yelling. A Humvee raced past, guns ready.
“Sir, this way!” Kratz shouted. “We’re taking fire from the north!”
Blasts sounded, and the ground shook. Joe covered his head.
“That’s us fighting back, sir,” Kratz said as he fired off a couple rounds.
Joe huddled down and pulled his rifle up. The minute Kratz was on his feet, running, Joe followed, hunched over behind the sergeant, taking cover behind sandbags with two lieutenants, Pike and Riske. Riske was a dark-haired girl from the Midwest, Colorado or one of the Dakotas, Joe couldn’t remember which. All he knew was that the young lieutenant was all about guns. Pike was short, dark haired, with Native blood, and he could always be found not far from Riske.
“They came out of nowhere, sir,” Riske said. “There were seven, came into our tent, took Dunlop and Grieger. They tried to take me, too. Those bastards, they just took them!” Riske was sweating and swearing as she yelled and let fire again. She screamed a stream of curses that had Joe taking another look. She was mad, and she shot off a few more rounds. She was scared.
Grieger and Dunlop were both women. Dunlop was new, and Joe remembered reprimanding her once about her hair. It was long, blond, a mass of curls. He’d told her to tie it up or cut it off. She was tall, slender, with a set of breasts that drew every man’s eye. Joe worried she was going to be a problem in the camp, as every warm-blooded man there wanted her, even the married ones. That was a distraction, a problem—and a strike against her. Grieger was African American, with dark eyes and dark hair that she kept cropped short. She was shorter than the other women, slender, and absolutely stunning. For Joe, there was something about her that was real and natural.
“Who took them?” he snapped.
“They were hostiles, faces covered. It was their fucking eyes! When they came in, one grabbed my leg. I kicked the shit out of him and went under the side of the tent. I heard them scream, Grieger and Dunlop, but I had to take cover when they started firing. I couldn’t get to them. They’re gone, those motherfuckers took them!” Riske fired again.
He heard someone yell out, “Hold your fire!” Then there was a commotion and running. Riske’s chest was heaving as if she’d run for miles. Joe was up and racing over to Commander DeLaurie, the tall gray-haired man who stepped out of a Humvee as it skidded to a stop.
“They’re gone,” one of the marines called out as he hurried over. “Team two is in pursuit now, as the first team was taken out by a rocket somewhere up in the hills.” Joe recognized the man as Tex—a nickname, maybe because he was from Texas, with all the accompanying swagger and twang, and he never let anyone forget how big Texas was.
Joe listened as he looked around. Why take the women? What the hell did the enemy want with them, and how had they known where they were? Did they want hostages? Something was up. Security had been breached somewhere, and as Joe stared down at Riske, he realized she might know something. “Lieutenant Riske, I find it odd how these guys came in and went right to your barracks—and for three women only. Do we know if anyone else was taken?”
Commander DeLaurie was also staring at her, and he took another step closer. “Anything else taken from the camp? Any other personnel gone? Someone report and tell me what the fuck is going on!” he yelled, all the while staring down at Riske.
Sergeant Kratz was on his radio, and they could all hear the response: “Just Dunlop and Grieger missing. These assholes came in and got out, had people in the hills, ready and waiting for them, firing off grenades to create a diversion. This was a planned kidnapping.”
Riske’s eyes widened in alarm, and her face paled.
“I suggest you start talking right now, Riske, before I have you written up,” DeLaurie said. “How the hell do insurgents get into my camp and into your tent? How did they know where you were?”
“Why do you think I know something?” Riske snapped back. Joe didn’t miss how defensive she had become—surly, even. She was being stupid, considering she was talking to her commander. Pike swore under his breath. Maybe he, too, had figured out what Joe had.
“Because they came in just for you women,” DeLaurie replied. “They wanted hostages or something, but why stop with the women? There are higher-ranked officers worth far more as a bargaining chip, so tell me right now what you know. I won’t ask again.” The commander was leaning closer, pissed off.
Joe didn’t know how many of them were staring down at Riske. She snarled but didn’t flinch as her face hardened and she stared up at Joe. “Sir, we didn’t ask for this,” she said. Maybe she thought he’d believe her.
“Maybe not, Riske, but you know something, and right now you’re not talking. I advise you to start now,” he said.
“Dunlop has been talking to some guy online,” she finally replied.
DeLaurie glanced over at Joe with the same wariness Joe was feeling. “What guy?” the commander asked, crossing his arms and practically breathing down on Riske.
“I don’t know, sir! I told her she was just being dumb, but she’s always on her laptop, chatting with some guy. I didn’t think anything of it, as she has all these friends on her Facebook page. All her downtime, she’s glued to that damn computer. When they came into the tent, I heard one of the guys say to her in perfect English, ‘We came for you with Avi.’” Riske glanced down and away from the commander. “Sir,” she finally said, “I think Avi was one of her Facebook friends.”
Chapter 3
It was raining. The overhead street lamps were the only light on the darkened streets as Eric drove to the base, hoping to find answers. After calling the base and learning that the problem hadn’t been caused by a downed satellite, he’d tried to get Joe back on Skype for more than an hour. He’d finally picked up the phone and called Colonel Hancock at home, and he didn’t give a crap how irritated the man was. This was Joe, his friend.
What Mary-Margaret didn’t know was that Joe was in a camp outside Fallujah with a mix of Brits and Americans, marines, navy, and army. Right now, Eric was more irritated at Joe than ever for taking the posting as part of the tactical movement team. Of course Mary-Margaret had no knowledge of the danger her husband was putting himself in—and Eric wasn’t about to enlighten her. Joe was on the frontline, or close to it, which was somewhere he’d never been.
He walked Mary-Margaret and the kids home, reassuring them again that the disruption had most likely been caused by the satellite connection. He didn’t think he’d convinced her, though, and he promised to let her know as soon as he learned something. He would, right after he found out firsthand, but he would tell her a story that was close to the truth, hiding everything she didn’t need to know.
There were others inside the building on the base, a concrete two-story block with two MPs posted out front. They recognized Eric in his full uniform as he strode up the steps to the front doors, which were opened for him. The hallway inside was darkened, deserted, but he could hear the squeak of footsteps on the linoleum floor.
“Captain Hamilton, everyone is in the situation room,” came the voice of Corporal Miller, who was carrying a paper cup of coffee. The boy was young, lanky, and efficient. He walked beside Eric and handed him the coffee.
“Any news?”
“No, sir, but the colonel’s arrived. Lieutenant Perkins, too.”
Eric stopped outside the room and keyed in his security code. He dismissed his corporal and then took a swallow of the lukewarm coffee before walking in. The room was filled with personnel, computers, and a projector screen at the front. Everyone was talking. He walked past the rows, recognizing the glassed-in office in back and his superior officers inside, standing, talking. Perkins was round in the middle, too much time behind a desk. Colonel Hancock’s gray hair was parted on the side, and he wore dark-rimmed glasses. He was a head shorter than Eric. Eric closed the door behind him and didn’t miss the annoyance on the colonel’s face.
“Any word from Lieutenant Commander Joe Reed?” Eric asked.
It was Lieutenant Perkins who said, “Hostiles made their way into camp and invaded the women’s quarters. They managed to abduct two of them, but a third managed to get away. It appears these hostiles entered the camp with the sole intent of taking those women. We’re not sure yet on all the details. The team in pursuit was taken out by insurgents in the hills. A launcher detonated on them—one dead, two wounded. What we know is that this was planned, and they knew exactly the way into the camp and the details of where the women’s barracks was situated. Reports are sketchy, but Lieutenant Commander Reed is one of the members of the third team, which has left to go after the women.”
Eric couldn’t believe it. Why would Joe have done that? He was meant to be coming home in a few days.
There was a knock on the glass door before it was opened. “We have the commander on com now, Colonel.”
Perkins nodded to one of the corporals in the doorway.
“Bring it up,” Colonel Hancock said.
Eric followed Perkins and the colonel into the bullpen. A big screen was on, and a gray-haired man Eric didn’t recognize came on.
“DeLaurie, what’s the status with the women?” Colonel Hancock was standing in the middle of the room, wearing army boots and green fatigues. Lieutenant Perkins, on the other hand, was dressed in blue jeans and a dark blue golf shirt.
“We don’t have all the details yet, Colonel, but rest assured we’re going to find the taken women.”
“You’re not telling us anything. What have you been able to find out?” The colonel was cutting right through the bullshit, something Eric appreciated.
On the screen, DeLaurie snapped his fingers in the air. There were personnel behind him, and someone handed him some papers. He shoved on a pair of reading glasses. “What we’ve been able to piece together from Riske, who was one of the women they tried to take, is that Lance Corporal Dunlop has been communicating online with a man in northern Iraq. Apparently she’s formed some kind of relationship, and he contacted her through Facebook. Our techs have been digging around on her computer.”
“Are you telling me this is about some love-struck Al Qaeda terrorist who decided to come into an armed camp and take these women because of an online relationship?” Hancock snapped.
Eric didn’t have a clue about Facebook and social media, so he stared at DeLaurie on the screen and then shared a meaningful look of disbelief with Colonel Hancock. Lieutenant Perkins was leaning over a desk, going through something on the screen with another officer.
“Sir, the programmer at the camp has patched us into Dunlop’s computer, and we’ve pulled up a history. She’s been communicating with someone called Avi over thirty-six different messages. I’m just scrolling through to the end, but in one of them, he says they’ll meet soon and asks if she has leave coming. In this next one, she says she can’t get off base and says they’ll have to communicate by email. In another here, she’s complaining about someone named Riske and another bunkmate, Grieger.” Lieutenant Perkins was reading something from the screen and then shook his head. “She didn’t say anything of their whereabouts, but she didn’t need to. She gave out a lot of information about herself and what it’s like on base—the food, the time she eats, and how close everything is to her barracks.”
“Do we have a traitor in our midst?” the colonel asked, but Eric didn’t think so.
“Not a traitor, but someone’s definitely communicating with the enemy,” Lieutenant Perkins added.
“Did she lead these men in?” Eric had to ask. Everyone was shaking their heads.
DeLaurie could obviously hear him. “We think so, but we don’t know if she planned it or was just being stupid.”
“Are the emails from camp not monitored?” Eric asked. This was communication, pure and simple. They couldn’t have personnel talking to anyone any time they wanted.
“We have portable Internet,” DeLaurie explained. “Families Skype, they talk, they’re monitored. Don’t know how this slipped past.”
“We need someone going through those emails word for word so we can figure out who these guys are. Do we know where they’ve taken the women?” The colonel was loud, barking at DeLaurie.
DeLaurie appeared grim on screen from what Eric could tell. “We don’t, sir,” he replied. “The first team was taken out, and the second followed but lost their trail. We need to find a satellite feed to get a location from their vehicle.”
“Call your team back,” the colonel ordered. “Let’s find out first what group we’re dealing with—whether this is just some group of rebels or some well-financed terrorist operation. See if we can’t get more information from the source of these emails.”
“All right, Colonel,” DeLaurie said before signing off.
After everything, Eric couldn’t believe this was something as simple as an enlisted officer leading a group right into camp.
Chapter 4
Climbing out of the Humvee, he could only taste sand and heat and grit. Joe was wearing his sunglasses, a boonie hat, his uniform, and tan suede combat boots, with his M4 Carbine looped over his shoulder. The commander had called them back to the compound, but by then the trail had already gone cold. They had no idea if the insurgents who had taken the women had gone north or south, and they needed to get a fix on the vehicle. Then they would gather supplies and go after the women.
Joe couldn’t help thinking of Dunlop. She was a quiet woman, a looker with a body the men drooled over. Even Joe wasn’t unaffected but how stunning she was. He’d never given another woman a second look before—he loved his wife—but as of late, he had felt that something was missing, and that made him angry at the young woman he felt so attracted to. He had made a point of never being alone with Dunlop, but he’d once run into her outside the canteen when it was dark. She’d been leaning against the warm steel siding, staring up at the stars. He should have kept walking, but the way she was standing, alone…He had been lonely, or maybe he’d just needed to hear a female voice.