Special Forces: Operation Alpha: Rescuing Pandora (Kindle Worlds Novella) (2 page)

P
andora went
straight to the room she shared with Mohammed. He stood at the window looking out into the evening. Taking the cover off her head, she laid it carefully on the bed.

“Will he help us?” he asked, back still turned.

“Yes.”

He finally turned from the window, a small smile playing around his still handsome face. Mohammed was older than she was, by almost twenty years. His black hair grayed at the temples, but he was lean and fit from staying active. Fine lines had appeared around his eyes and mouth from the stress of current events, but he rarely showed her his worry.

A veteran of Iraqi politics, and a survivor of Saddam Hussein’s reign of terror, he was a gentle man who doted on their son and allowed her to be anything but a traditional woman while they were inside the home, without company. When in public or when he was forced to host functions, she played her part. That was the deal, and she’d been happy enough with it, especially while she recovered from the car bombing that almost took her life.

“And did you meet with the man from the CIA?”

She paused and gulped, trying not to think of Cam and failing. “Yes, he was there. And very unhappy with you for not keeping your appointment with him.”

Mohammed shrugged. “In all our dealings together, he struck me as a man burning with the fire of vengeance. He would have taken me then and there, leaving you and Sammy alone with Aziz.”

“He almost wouldn’t let me come back,” she said. Turning toward the connecting room, Pandora was about to go and find her son when Mohammed’s words stopped her cold.

“Of course not, you are his wife.”

She froze. Maybe she hadn’t heard that right. Turning her head slightly, she asked, “What did you say?”

“The CIA think they are so secretive, but I have my own resources. I knew with whom I dealt. The man called Phantom is really Cameron Caffee, your dead husband.”

She turned fully to face the man she’d called husband for the last five years. “You knew he was alive?” Her heart started beating faster in her chest as she fully faced Mohammed. “How long have you known?”

“Would you have stayed with me if you’d known he was here, now, in Iraq?”

Pandora could feel her head spin. Finding out Cam was alive had been such a shock. She hadn’t really had time to process it yet, not really. But worse, finding out that Mohammed knew was even…

She couldn’t even go there.

“How could you not tell me? Make me understand, Mohammed. And why now? Why make me go to this meeting when you knew about him. About us?” She wrung her hands, looking over her shoulder at the room their son slept in. She’d forgotten about him for a moment.

“He’s in the kitchen helping prepare our meal,” Mohammed said in answer to the questioning look she’d given him. “Your other questions are harder to answer.”

Pandora wanted to yell, to throw something, anything to force out answers to her real questions. But she knew he would tell her in his own time.

He took a step toward the pair of chairs in the room, opposite the bed. He was tired and his limp was more pronounced.

Without thinking, she went to him and eased her shoulder up under his to take some of the weight off his shorter leg. He refused to use a crutch or a cane, not wanting to appear weak, but when he was tired or they were alone, he gave into the pain and his limp became noticeable. “You stood too long.”

“And you worry too much, Dora.”

He eased into the chair with a sigh, taking the weight off his leg. Pandora settled into the chair next to him and waited. Willing him to just tell her.

He looked at her, glancing up at her red hair. Hair that he loved to play with, teaching Sammy to braid while she laughed at them both. Then his eyes moved over her face, touching her cheeks, her lips, and finally coming to rest on her pleading eyes. “The short answer is that I love you. I didn’t want you to know about him. And I’ve only known for about six months, when I decided to meet with him.”

“You told me that the CIA approached you about asylum in America one year ago.”

He nodded. “But that was during an Embassy dinner and it wasn’t obvious to anyone but me. The gentleman who approached me only set up the meeting with the man they call ‘Phantom.’ It was during my research into this contact that I realized who he was—is—to you.”

“Why did you send me tonight when you could have gone? You said because he would have taken you, but what aren’t you telling me?” She was more confused than ever by the task he’d given her now. Pandora thought the trip too taxing on his leg, but he’d made the trip before, several times.

“I want you to be happy, Dora. And you aren’t happy here. You conform to my traditions to please me, but it doesn’t fill you with joy. I know that you cry at night, missing this man you loved, and your family in America. And I know you want Sammy far away from this land that I love. I want that too—for you. For our son.”

She sat, bewildered, not having realized that he’d known how unhappy she was. Pandora owed this man her life and she repaid that debt in the best, only way, she’d known how. By being what he needed of her. And now he was telling her what…exactly?

“What are you saying?”

Reaching out, he ran a finger down her face before cupping her chin gently. “I’m saying, I release you. I want you far away from Iraq and what’s coming. This most current reign of terror is far from over and only going to worsen before real changes are made. There will be more bombings, more death and destruction, and I want to know you are alive and taking care of Sammy.”

“They are coming for us, tonight,” she said. “All three of us.”

He nodded. “That’s good. Maybe you should pack a very small bag with things for Sammy.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Come, we must eat before our evening prayer. Everything must appear normal in front of Aziz.”

Pandora took his hand, as she did every night, and descended the staircase toward the eating area. He sounded fatalistic, his tone defeated. It was if he knew something she didn’t. It gave her the chills, and she still reeled from the knowledge that not only was Cam alive, but he was CIA, and Mohammed knew.

Already seated was the man that made her skin crawl. Aziz. She tried to control the shiver and Mohammed’s hand tightened in hers fractionally. And as he came fully into view, her heart stopped. In one hand he held a gun.

In the other, he held her son.

“
I
want
her out of there tonight, whatever it takes,” Cam said. He bent over the rough map that Pandora had given him, memorizing the layout and which room was which. “How much demo did you bring with you?”

Blade answered, “Enough to take out a couple of buildings.”

Cam nodded, still looking at the map. “I want explosives on this wall and this one near the kitchen. Both areas should be empty when we hit.”

Ghost looked up from the same drawing, catching Cam’s eye. “If this goes sideways, it’s our asses in the sling.”

The hard tone of his voice didn’t faze Cam. He wasn’t saying no; he was merely reminding Phantom what happens to soldiers when all hell breaks loose. Cam was aware and would take the flak if this op took a shit. “This is on me. If you want out, walk away now.”

“Hell no,” someone said from behind him. “We protect what’s ours. And we sure as hell don’t leave our women in danger.”

“That’s the Delta I remember,” Cam said with a tight smile. “From what Pandora said about this Aziz, he’s enemy number one. We take him for info if we can, take him out if we can’t.”

“And Mohammed Al’Hadir?” Ghost asked.

Cam heard the caution and understood it. They were all possessive, primitive men deep down. It was an instinctual reaction, and while part of him just wanted to grab his woman and run off into the hills with her, he was just so damned happy she was alive, he’d sort out the other husband later.

“We bring him and the child. Pandora and the child take precedence.”

“Copy that.”

They moved off to confer with each other and come up with a plan. Cam was fine with that. They were a cohesive team and he didn’t want to interfere with that dynamic, and he was odd man out. They knew he was former Delta, but they didn’t know what he could still do or not. But at least they knew he wasn’t likely to shoot himself or anyone else by accident.

“Coach followed your girl back to her house,” Ghost said, coming back over to stand by the rough map. The others followed and gathered around. “The building is what is described here,” he said, putting a finger on the drawing.

“You keeping him there to watch?”

Ghost nodded. “Now, let’s see what else you have in mind and we’ll rough out a plan.”

Cam laid out his thoughts and when Ghost offered up theirs, they were remarkably similar. He nodded. “I’ll be there in thirty. I need some equipment.”

“We’ll be there.”

“I’ll have your channel when I get there.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow. “CIA has some perks.”

“You have no idea.”

With that, Cam left the guys to finish planning and headed to his base of operations. He had a call to make and needed to arm himself. Plus, get his communications online. He’d been dark for a while now. Agents in deep cover, like himself, didn’t have regular check-ins, but he wanted intel on this Aziz Kufi. He’d been after different players, so either Aziz was new to the game or a smaller fish on the list.

And if he was as radical as Pandora suggested, then he might have to be put down.

Cam purposely thought only about the mission. If he gave in and thought about the fact that Pandora was involved and what her life had been like without him—hell, what his life had been like without her, he’d lose focus. He just couldn’t. Not yet. It would come and, when it did, he’d likely be a mess, and that was something he couldn’t afford right now. So she was on his mind, but like the mysterious box she was named after, those thoughts stayed closed.

For now.

“
W
hat is
the meaning of this, Aziz?” Mohammed demanded.

Pandora could feel the tension running through both of them. The gun held so casually in the other man’s hand terrified her. Sammy stared at her with wide, frightened eyes, but he stayed perfectly still. She was proud of him for being brave.

“It has come to my attention that your woman has exited the home without proper escort this night. What has she been doing?” His tone was bored, but his sharp eyes missed little.

Pandora opened her mouth to respond, but Mohammed squeezed her hand. For once, she listened. Inside the home, she spoke her mind and had an opinion, whether or not the very traditional Aziz approved. But something about his smile, and the gun, signified something had changed.

“She’s not been sneaking anywhere. Dora has been shopping for a birthday present for our son, and we didn’t want him to know about it.”

“I think you are lying to me, cousin.”

Mohammed shrugged and continued down the steps until they were about twenty feet away. “Think what you like, but this is my home and that is my son you are threatening, and I will know why.”

“I tire of your demands and I tire of watching this woman ruin you.”

“My wife is none of your affair.”

Pandora had never heard this particular tone before. The man she’d called husband for the last five years was normally soft spoken and gentle. But the way he spoke now was from a different time in his life, one he would rarely speak of. When he’d been a soldier and not a politician.

“Let Dora and Samir go upstairs and we can figure out what is wrong, cousin.”

Aziz shook his head, smiling lightly. “We are going to take a ride together. All of us.”

“And what if I say no?” Mohammed said.

Aziz shrugged and pointed the gun at his cousin, center mass. “Then I shoot you here and take the woman and child anyway.”

“What do you want?” Pandora couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Why are you doing this?”

Grabbing a handful of Sammy’s hair, Aziz yanked hard, causing her son to cry out. Pandora choked back a cry and Mohammed physically restrained her. “If you speak to me again, woman, I will kill the boy. You will learn your place.” That sick smile returned. “I’ll be happy to teach you.”

His eyes ran over her body, not that he could see much through the burka, but she’d seen that look before. And what it promised was not something she was going to like. Or even survive. She focused on Sammy and the fat tears rolling down his face. He was so little, so fragile in the hands of an evil creature. Why hadn’t she just taken him to the Embassy? Why had she waited?

But she knew the why didn’t matter any longer, and all the “what ifs” in the world weren’t going to change it now.

Her only hope now was Cameron and the Delta team. She started praying they’d come soon. Cam would get them all out safely, he had to. There wasn’t another alternative. She knew what Aziz was, and who he was affiliated with, even if she couldn’t prove anything. And if they went anywhere with him, Mohammed would die. And so would she, probably after being raped over and over again. God only knew what would happen to her son then.

She needed to stall. But since she couldn’t speak, she wasn’t sure how. So she did what she thought would make him happy; Pandora dropped to her knees and began to crawl slowly forward. The smug little smile on his face let her know that debasing herself for his pleasure worked. She didn’t care, as long as it brought her closer to her son.

“Dora,” Mohammed said. His voice was pained.

“Be quiet, cousin. She is finally acting as a whore should.”

Whipping her head back, she pleaded silently with Mohammed not to say anything. Any filth that came from Aziz was nothing compared to what he could do if he pulled the trigger. The muscle in his cheek jumped as he bit down on the words he’d been about to hurl. Turning back, she found Aziz's dead shark eyes on her, enjoying her willingness to be mute and compliant to his whims.

Stopping just short of the table, Pandora sat up on her knees and folded her arms, keeping her eyes downcast. “Come closer to your son, woman.”

Inch by inch, she moved forward on her knees.

“Go to your mother,” Aziz said, thrusting the boy away from him and into her arms.

His bony little arms wrapped around her neck as she hugged him hard, shielding him as best she could. A single hiccupping sob escaped him, but it was quiet. He was so quiet, unlike his normal rambunctious self. Maybe he was in shock.

“What now?” Mohammed asked.

“Now we wait. I have a car coming for us.” Aziz pointed the gun toward the chair. “Sit. It won’t be long now.”

“And what do you hope to gain?” her husband asked. “I know you want my job, but I was appointed. It’s not mine to give.”

“Oh, I want more than your job, cousin. Much more.”

The smile on his face chilled Pandora. He was crazy, pure and simple. Filled with blood lust and the need for power. He was prepared to do only God knew what to them. She hugged Sammy closer. Come on, Cam. Bring those badass Delta guys, she begged silently.

I need you
.

C
am listened
as the report came in. Ghost and his team weren’t aware that he had their channel and could listen yet. He was glad he’d kept silent as he made his way to the new rendezvous point.

“We have a problem.”

“Intel?” Ghost responded. Cam recognized his voice because he did most of the talking during the planning stage. The others were quiet, watching the perimeter—only occasionally chiming in. Ghost was the leader and it was his team. Cam respected that, but only to a point. He had his own rules and the way he played in the sandbox.

“One tango. Holding a gun on the packages. Another adult male, unarmed, sitting nearby. The gun swings between them.”

Another voice chimed in. “Headlights in the distance. Coming fast.”

Shit. There was one long driveway between where the city ended and Mohammed Al’Hadir’s house began, but these were coming from the desert. Looking around the corner, Cam had a view of the bouncing headlights approaching. Coach was the overwatch, if Cam remembered their call signs correctly. He must be the voice spotting the headlights.

“How many?” Ghost asked.

“At least three vehicles.”

Cam pressed the mic at his throat. “Then we go now.”

A muffled snort came through. “Figured you were listening.”

“Damn straight. Arriving at rendezvous point now.”

“I have you,” Coach’s voice whispered through the earpiece.

It was radio silence as they all waited for Ghost to decide. In or out. Either way, Cam was going in after Pandora. And he’d do it alone if he had to. They all knew it. He’d seen the look in Ghost’s eyes—he knew what Cam was going through. He must have a special woman of his own, to be able to give that particular look.

“How long?”

“Three minutes.”

“Go,” Ghost gave the order.

Cam sucked in a big breath; he was happy to have the back-up. Stepping forward, he placed a small charge on the door, then moved to the side about three feet. The charge would blow out, taking the lock with it.

“Three, two, one.” Charges went off simultaneously. One at the front, one at the side door that led into a garden area, and the one Cam set on the door closest to the kitchen. Closest to Pandora. And the man who would be eating the barrel of his own gun very soon.

No one threatened his wife.

Cam moved like his namesake, slipping into the smoke and through the door that stood wide open. There was yelling and the high pitched cry of the child, through the ringing of his ears. Then gunfire. A pop, pop, pop as the man holding the gun dashed toward Pandora, who was on her knees holding a small child.

Cam had a single moment as he met her wide eyes, and the bright eyes of the child as they stared at him. Then the target’s gun was coming up, and he was too close to bring his own assault rifle up in time to stop the man from shooting, so he threw himself forward, diving over Pandora as she pulled her child sideways and out of the line of fire.

He heard the report of the handgun and felt the vibration like a sledge hammer into his chest, but he’d thrown himself so hard that he hit the man in the upper body and it propelled them both up and over the small table there.

“One minute,” the voice in his ear said, and Cam knew he had to move.

He’d worn a vest, so the bullet didn’t penetrate, but it felt like a battering ram had tried to rip into his body. Forcing movement, he lifted his body off of the combatant, twisted, and slammed his elbow into the man’s face. Blood gushed instantly from his nose and ran into his eyes, which fluttered briefly before closing. The body under Cam went limp.

“We got injured,” another voice said through the earpiece.

“Pandora?” he yelled.

“Here,” she said. “We’re okay. Mohammed?” she called. But there was no answer. “Mohammed?” she yelled it this time. Still no answer.

“Ma’am,” Ghost said. “We have to go. Now.”

Cam got to his feet, wobbled, and felt steadying hands. “You good, Phantom?” It was the big guy, Truck.

He nodded. “Let’s bug out.”

Cam grabbed Pandora, who had her son in her arms and wrapped his arm around them both, leading them out the door he’d blown. Glancing back, he saw one of the guys had Mohammed in a fireman’s carry. Damn it. Keeping Pan close and not looking backward, he led the way as they moved away from the house.

“Truck stashed a vehicle about two clicks away. Keep heading south.”

Cam didn’t bother answering Ghost, since they could all hear the yelling. The cars had finally arrived at the house. Gunfire sounded in the distance as they ran, keeping in the shadows as much as they could.

“Does someone have Aziz?”

“Had to leave him behind, bro.”

Cam nodded to himself. Better to leave the bastard behind than compromise themselves. And getting Pan and the kid out was his first priority anyway. Mohammed was a bonus, since he had information about the bases. But they’d have to wait to see how bad he was hurt.

An explosion sounded as they fled. Followed by two more.

“I lost a couple of grenades,” Coach said. His deadpan voice pulled a couple of chuckles out of two of the guys.

“You’re gonna catch hell from the supply clerk.”

“You notice he loses a lot of equipment lately?”

“Can it,” Ghost snapped. “You can slap-ass all you want once we’re back at Camp Condor.”

It was quiet as they made their way into the city again. Those grenades must have taken out the vehicles because no one seemed to be following them. It was eerily quiet, but that was probably due to the sounds of the explosions. The people who lived with bombings on a daily basis were hiding in their homes, hoping they weren’t next. It made slipping by, unmolested, a helluva lot easier.

Truck took the lead at that point and ducked in between two buildings. Everyone followed. A big diesel engine roared to life, kicking up dust and filling their noses with the high octane smell of fuel. The rear doors to the Rhino opened and a soldier waited to help anyone who needed it into the back of the large cargo area.

Cam boosted Pandora up and she reached one-handed for the outstretched arm. Then she was in. Whoever had Mohammed stepped up next, and Truck helped the unconscious man up into the open space, then climbed up next to him. He was already pulling out a knife and cutting open Mohammed’s shirt, looking at the wound there. Once Cam was sure everyone was secured, he and Ghost were the last two inside. Securing the doors, they were off, a second soldier already at the wheel. They weren’t Delta, so they must have been on loan from Condor.

He squeezed in next to Pandora, who had wide eyes glued to the gaping hole in Mohammed’s chest. Her eyes met his for a brief moment before she thrust her son into his arms and crawled forward to the injured man.

“What can I do to help?” she asked.

“Need the kit,” Truck said to the soldier in the back.

A bag was passed over and Truck dug inside, pulling out gauze, scissors, and an assortment of other items. “Hold the light,” he said to Pandora as he handed her a pen light. He pointed to the wound, “Here.”

Tiny arms tightened around Cam’s neck and the kid whispered, “Baba.” Cam could feel the tears and heard the sniffle. He didn’t really know what to do, so he hugged the kid tighter. Baba was the word for father.

“You’re safe now,” Cam said. “What’s your name?”

There was a hiccup and a big sniff, but finally he said, “Everyone calls me Sammy.” In perfect English.

“Well, Sammy. We’re taking your Baba to a doctor and he’s going to do everything he can to make him better, okay?”

He could feel the kid nod. The only light in the heavily armored Rhino was the one Pandora held as Truck worked over the man bleeding all over the floorboard. Part of him wanted the other man to die. It was the primitive side of him that wanted no other claim on the woman of his heart. The one he’d only just gotten back. But the civilized part of him realized that he didn’t really have Pandora back. Not yet.

And the kid in his arms didn’t deserve to lose his father.

So he closed his eyes and dragged the clean smell of Sammy’s freshly washed hair into his lungs. It was better than the gunpowder smell that clung to his own clothing, or the coppery smell of the blood leaking out of Mohammed. Cam was tired. Suddenly, he was so bone weary that he could have easily pulled a Rip Van Winkle.

The rocking motion of the Rhino made it easy to sway with the kid. Keeping him quiet as they all watched Truck putting the bandages in place. He’d managed to staunch some of the bleeding, but Mohammed was going to need surgery and a transfusion if he was going to make it.

He wished Pan would come up and crawl into his arms like she used to when she was upset. Cam missed everything about her. In the dark, during the ride, he allowed all those memories that he’d buried to rush over him.

The way she snored before she sank down into sleep. The way she smelled right out of the shower. The way she used to cry over the sad puppies they showed on the TV to try to get you to adopt one.