Hard Man to Kill (Dark Horse Guardian Series Book 4) (26 page)

“You’ve thought this through?  ” Finn seemed to be gauging her certainty. 

“Yes, I’m certain.”  

“I’ll have Betsy and a couple of designers come in and take over your projects.  You can meet her at the bungalow this weekend to fill her in.  Monique will remain?”  Finn queried.

“Yes.  And she will be a terrific help.”

“All right, consider it done.” Finn exhaled.  “I will miss working with you…pestering you.  You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.  And, I will miss you, Finn, more than you know.” Lara said.  She meant every word of it.  Hanging up the phone she felt one tear slide down her face, but she stopped feeling sorry for herself immediately.  She had a task sitting before her that needed completion.  She needed to focus on that now, so she could move forward in a new line of work with Ben and the Dark Horse Guardians.  Making this decision had been exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

Ben had explained what would happen next.  They couldn’t live their lives exposed.  They’d go into hiding for a period of time, then emerge with a different identity.  Clearwater Farm would be sold.  They would need to move from place to place for a long time, then eventually settle somewhere and make a life.  Ben mentioned staying at Prince Edward Island for the summer.  Then, a trip to Dublin. 

A new administration was coming into the white house in the next few months.  Rumor had it that Kip Larson would be promoted to the CIA Director’s position.  If that was the case, then Ben was going to be tapped to head up a special counter-terrorism unit on American soil.  This was a new concept, one that the United States government was willing to pay handsomely for.  A new form of Homeland Security,
one with teeth in it
.  And, Lara knew, more than ever, she wanted to be a part of it all. 

~ Saleh ~

Cleared at the Pakistani border, Ben and Saleh traveled with a small group of up-armored SUV’s behind them.  Saleh was no longer a soccer player.  He had escaped America without a trace.  The news consortium was now off his trail.  This was home.  Keegan, however, was garbed in black from head to toe, wearing a long beard and a keffiyeh, an Arab face scarf, designed to keep the sun and wind from the face, now the symbol of Middle-Eastern man.  Saleh learned that Keegan also spoke perfect Urdu and Arabic, and several other dialects. 

“Here’s where we part.” Keegan tapped his shoulder and the vehicle stopped.  The man named Moshe was behind him in the small caravan.  Keegan disappeared into the darkness of the night as he spoke into the com device he called a G, and about fifty pounds of equipment strapped to his body.  Everything was black, even his skin was darkened with some sort of resin. 

The driver of Saleh’s vehicle continued on to his father’s compound in the city of Dera Ghazi Khan.  The other vehicles disappeared, taking another road well behind them now.  As Saleh checked through the gated compound, he noted there were hundreds, possibly a thousand, people congregated there to greet him.  Music was playing.  There were dancing girls.  It looked like some sort of festival.  The crowd parted as Saleh’s vehicle drove up to his father, waiting under a huge white tent.  Brightly colored lights lit up the entire area. 

Salib Madi stood to welcome his son, but did not walk toward him.  It was a sign of deference for the son to walk to the father in this part of the world, and Saleh did so without hesitation.  Saleh watched his father smile as he walked toward him.

“See, I told you he’d return – he’s amazing – my son!”  Saleh felt his father’s strong embrace and he received a kiss on each cheek.  A goat was sacrificed on the spot and the crowd cheered as they prepared it for the fire pit.  Praise was chanted in Arabic.  The crowd was enthusiastic. 

Once the chants died down, Saleh reached into his bag.  “For you, father.” He held out the medallion, a beautiful work of art.  Gold inlay with an intricate design of the crescent and star on a gold chain, fit for a king.  Salib Madi held the gold chain in the air and called out to the crowd before him. 

“My son has brought me a beautiful gift.” Madi handed it back to Saleh and he slipped the chain over his father’s neck. “Take a picture and put it on Facebook!” his father laughed.  Saleh had never seen his father smile like that.  It was a grin from ear to ear, and the cheering from the crowd was deafening.  So much so, that his father did not notice when Saleh moved away, to the far corner of the tent and started walking toward the perimeter of the compound.  Few people lingered in that area where there was no light. 

Within a minute, he sent the text to Keegan.  The target was painted and Saleh took the route they discussed, one that took him toward the bath facilities.  As he entered the toilet area, he heard the explosion as the drone strike hit its target.  The tent where his father had been standing was incinerated in one huge blast.  A hellfire missile struck killing his father and all surrounding him. 

When Saleh ran to the wreckage, few people were left alive.  The ones that remained were dying.  He walked away and a vehicle picked him up.  The meeting was set-up for the next morning.  Keegan had teams of people ready to descend and help him make sense of the chaos.

~ Ben ~

The deed was done.  Saleh performed perfectly.  Moshe picked him up and they moved toward the border in the darkness.  Saleh knew what he had to do now.  He had to play the biggest role of his life, and it needed to be an academy award performance.  Those who remained in his father’s army would turn to Saleh for guidance.  For the many weeks and months to follow, a team of special ops from the United States would quietly and methodically kill every man Saleh marked. 

Then, slowly, Saleh would take a group of specially trained Yazidi soldiers, allies of the United States, persecuted to the point of near extinction by the jihadist murderers.  Little by little, the Yazidi group would swell to the size of a large army as Turks and others from the region who wanted the New Age of Islam to dawn.  They’d be supported and supplied by the United States in a clandestine manner.  Meanwhile, the drone strikes would continue, taking out the men Saleh marked.  All of this had to be done without Saleh saying a word to anyone else about it.  No confidante.  No friends.  Just business. 

As Ben thought back on the celebratory moment, he imagined Saleh placing the medallion around his father’s neck.  The crowd was cheering.  These men were so different than the soldiers he served with.  The jihadists demonstrated their kills on YouTube, as if it was something to brag about.  Taking a life was never something to cheer about.  It was grim business for the special operators he had worked with all of his life. 

But the difference was, the Islamic terrorists were egotistical maniacs.  Ego was always at the center of evil.  The men he’d served with were getting a job done and moved forward to the next task on the list.  There were no celebrations or taking credit.  No YouTube videos, chanting or bragging.  Although, the liberal press in the United States would have their audience think differently.  Often times, U.S. soldiers were portrayed as knuckle-dragging Neanderthals, torturing and killing for sheer pleasure.  The ends justified the means. 

The ends
.  Ben thought long and hard about the big difference there.  Yes, both sides killed, but there was an all-important discussion to be had about the ends.  Terrorists killed because they believed snuffing out life that was different than theirs was not only acceptable, but required.  There was no respect for life, liberty, or the pursuit of happiness.  Zero tolerance. 

The ends for the Dark Horse Guardians were completely different.  Their purpose was to eliminate evil that subjugated women and children and to kill those who refused to live peacefully, and tolerate those with beliefs different than their own. 
The ends did justify the means
. 

But the special operators did not high-five or fist bump their victories, nor did they display them on YouTube.  What they did was for a greater good.  They silently, methodically pushed forward, mission after mission, dedicating themselves to a life of protecting and defending freedom.  These concepts were foreign to those who ruled with terror. 

Lieutenant Ben Keegan wholeheartedly believed he was on the winning team.  The fight would continue for some time to come, but in the end, he believed good would win.  Freedom would trump subjugation.  Good would defeat evil, at least it would if he had anything to do with it. 

THE END

Note from the author:  Thank you for reading this book.  If you liked it, please leave a review on Amazon for me. 

Book 5 in the Dark Horse Guardian Series will be about Lieutenant Ben Keegan’s new life as a black-op on American soil – heading up an elite counter-terrorism unit and living quietly out of the public eye of scrutiny.