SEALed Forever Page 11

  “Brandy!” Marsha whispered. “When did you get married?”

  “About two years ago now. Met him at Dorie’s wedding.”

  “You married a Team guy?” one of the girls remarked.

  “Yes. Tucker, Brawley’s best friend. You remember him, don’t you?”

  “The one who held your hair back while you were throwing up? That was so sweet of him, Brandy,” Marsha said with a sad, long face.

  “Yes, that was very touching. We all watched. Such a sweetheart!” said another.

  Brandy’s nails dug into the Styrofoam cup. She took another long pull, which made a loud slurping sound when she hit bottom.

  “Well,” Brandy began. “I just finished my workout with Cory, and I’m off. Hope to see you here again, ladies.”

  The three friends gave her a hug, one by one, and then disappeared into the women’s locker room. Brandy tossed her cup, swung her bag over her shoulder, and headed for her car. She knew she was angry and wished she had the courage to go all Ta-Wanda on one of their cars. But she closed her eyes and thought about the life she had now.

  She was the lucky one.

  Chapter 15

  The Team sorties began to pay off. Several sightings were made of a group of men who had traveled from the north. There had been a recent skirmish, and several villagers had been killed after the Africa Corp caught a similar band of men trying to abduct a classroom full of young girls. Reverend Schusler had an older member of his congregation he wanted the men to interview.

  Brawley had been chosen to accompany Tucker and a small group, including Danny and DeWayne, to interview her. Kyle and Jean were off to a meeting with the Civil Guard. Ollie and several others were sent to visit the school that had been fire damaged, since school had re-started in the region. T.J. and Coop visited the aid workers office to see if they’d made contact with their missing team. All the groups had a man from Jean’s team accompany them and were to assemble at noon near the river.

  Reverend Schusler introduced his parishioner to Tucker and the others. DeWayne helped with the translation. She spoke French but little English. DeWayne had studied Yoruba.

  “She has a granddaughter who has gone missing,” Reverend Schusler said in a whisper.

  DeWayne gave an introduction, first in French and then shifted to her native Yoruba and got better results.

  She was animated, rocking back and forth as she sat in the pew, then waving her arms as she spoke. Tucker could see DeWayne was having a little difficulty at first understanding her dialect.

  “She says her granddaughter works for one of the big houses, I assume those are the houses on the hill, as a houseworker,” translated DeWayne. He stopped to listen further and then added, “She says sometimes that does involve a little sex, as her granddaughter is a pretty girl.”

  Brawley tensed, and Tucker knew he was stuffing down some choice words.

  “Unfortunately, this is common,” added Reverend Schusler.

  “Do you know who she works for?” Tucker asked.

  “No, but I can have her show me later, if you want.” Reverend Schusler patted the woman’s shoulder and spoke gently to her in French, encouraging her to continue speaking.

  Tucker’s stomach boiled. “How old is she?”

  Dewayne waited for the answer back. “Fifteen,” he said, his eyes downcast.

  Brawley’s eyes were red with anger. Tucker felt the same way. They listened to the woman tell the rest of her story. She drew a cloth from her bodice and wiped her eyes as she began to sob.

  DeWayne paused. “Her daughter was kidnapped several years ago, and since then, she’s been raising her two granddaughters. This one is the youngest. The older one was able to go to a boarding school in England sponsored by the mission.”

  Schusler nodded. “Yes, yes. Bimi. Very bright. She’s doing well, we hear.” He hesitated, “So she is Bimi’s little sister? I don’t recall seeing her at church.”

  Dewayne asked the grandmother about that. “She says Sunday is the only day she has to sleep. She works very hard, very long hours for the big man. It was on Sunday she went missing. At first, she thought she’d been called to work, but when they sent a messenger around on Monday when she didn’t show up, her grandmother knew something was wrong.”

  Tucker asked Dewayne to translate. “Your granddaughter, does she attend school?”

  The woman shook her head.

  “So she’s been gone how many days?”

  She held up two fingers.

  “When was the last time she saw her?”

  DeWayne came back with the answer. “She was asleep when she left for church Sunday morning.”

  “Ask her if she has a picture of her,” Tucker instructed.

  The answer came back, “No.”

  Reverend Schusler spoke to the woman in French again. He listened and translated her answer. “She says she doesn’t think her big boss has anything to do with her disappearance.”

  “Do you believe her?” asked Tucker.

  “I do.”

  “Ask her to show us to the house. We can drive her there. We’d like to ask her employer some questions.”

  As the Reverend spoke, the woman got agitated and refused, shaking her head. She continued explaining something in Yoruba.

  DeWayne gave them her answer. “She says she can point to it. You can see it from the front steps of the chapel. But she says she will not go there, because she does not want to offend the big man.”

  Tucker thanked the Reverend and shook the grandmother’s hand. “Merci, madame,” he said over and over again, as he bowed to her.

  She led them to the street, faced the rise in the distance, and pointed to a bright pink house with lots of vines covering the outside. It was one of the largest ones in the neighborhood.

  “Do you know this person, pastor?” asked Brawley.

  “No. Probably a foreigner. Could be a local official. Your friend Jean might know who he is, but I don’t. My flock isn’t from there,” he said and then turned back inside the chapel.

  Tucker took a picture of the house with his cell phone camera. They headed to their rendezvous point to report their findings.

  Kyle and Jean were waiting for them. When Tucker showed Jean the picture of the house, he was rewarded with an answer.

  “Dutch businessman. Makes cell phones and electronic components. He’s white. He doesn’t fit the profile.”

  “So the Civil Guard will interview him, then?” said Kyle.

  “That would be best. I’ll get someone over there now.” He was walking away, talking on his cell as Ollie and his group returned.

  “Anything at the school?” Tucker asked Ollie.

  “We talked to a couple of the teachers. Everything so far has been normal,” said Ollie. “No one missing, no one hanging around, and they haven’t seen anything unusual. But we gave them Jean’s card.”

  “What about the fire?” asked Kyle.

  “They attributed the fire to a faulty extension cord.”

  T.J. and Coop were jogging toward them. Tucker knew they’d found something.

  “Any word?” Kyle asked.

  “They’re MIA,” answered Coop, catching his breath.

  T.J. added, “They get their supplies in those plastic bins, like what Tucker brought back. I have a gut feeling our girl was from that team.” He handed a sheet of paper to Kyle, still gasping for breath. “Here are the details of the missing aid workers. We got three women and four men.”

  Kyle took the paper and began scanning. His face grew pale as he stared back at T.J. “One of these is American.”

  Chapter 16

  Kyle obtained verification from the State Department that Sheila Coburn was indeed a twenty-three-year-old nurse from California. The Africa Doctors’ Corps had inserted three new teams after finishing their training in France. They were to work primarily with children in the schools, since they could perform their examinations and vaccinations easily without having to travel all over the
bush. And it needed to be done before the school year got out. The hope was that they’d be on the front lines of any further Ebola outbreak, as had occurred in the DRC.

  Back at the bunker, they received a photograph of the young nurse, as well as pictures of the other six members of her team. The two other women were from Belgium. One was a nurse and the other a doctor who had been working off and on in Africa for nearly ten years. Two of the men were from Italy, one from Norway, and another from Algeria. The medic from Norway had served in the Special Forces. This was his first humanitarian gig.

  Tucker eyed the picture of Sven Tolar with his intense cool blue eyes. He’d served in Afghanistan with several Norwegian SO troops, and he had high regard for their abilities.

  “If this man’s still alive, he’ll be a huge asset for us,” he said.

  “I agree,” said Jean.

  “So this changes things,” started Kyle. “State’s made the request, and the SOF Africa Command has given us authorization to do a rescue or recovery. There are other embassy personnel in the region here for a conference, but at present, we don’t think they’re in danger. So our main goal is to locate and return these aid workers safely, by lethal force, if necessary.”

  Tucker knew that the other SEALs were as excited as he was about finally getting their hands dirty. He knew no one outside the community could ever understand that.

  “We’re getting some satellite infrared feeds after sunset. Once we locate the group, we’ll launch. So get locked and loaded, get some sleep, check your bags and be ready when we get the call.” Kyle turned to Jean. “Anything else you want to say?”

  Jean studied the hostage pictures before he turned them over to Cooper. “My guys don’t have identification yet on the hand, but I wouldn’t hold my breath from the Civil Guard. At this point, we should assume we have a severely injured female and six traumatized hostages. Good news is that we have a combat medic and a doctor in this group. That bodes well.”

  It wasn’t great news, but Tucker decided he’d take it.

  After the team was dismissed, Wilson approached Kyle. “Sir, are we a go?”

  “Depends on where we have to get to. We will leave a few men behind here, and who knows, maybe you’ll have to come rescue us?” Kyle grinned.

  Wilson and Carson tore upstairs. Tucker was right behind them.

  Brawley had showered and was quickly getting dressed and gearing up. “It’s showtime, Tuck. Didn’t come all this way to spend my afternoons at the bazaar.”

  “Roger that. I’m going to shower, and then I’d like to get some shuteye. You okay with that?”

  “No complaints here.”

  Tucker quickly cleaned up, rinsed out his shirt from today’s trip, and hung it with the pants he’d washed earlier over the chair in their room. He finished getting fully dressed, including his vest and his boots with doubled up socks. He lay down, Brawley serenading him with his snoring. Just before he fell asleep, he heard the faint tune from Jameson’s finger piano. He knew that from now on, every time he heard that sound, he’d think of this moment, getting ready to hopefully save the day.

  Brawley barked in his ear, waking him from a sound sleep. “It’s a go. Get up, Tucker.”

  The sky was black. He followed Brawley to the lounge and then down the stairs to where the rest of the team waited.

  Kyle had sheets of paper spread over the countertop in the kitchen. “Help yourselves, and then take a seat.” He pointed to the large tub what held bottled waters. Next to it was a box of energy bars, nut packets, and meal replacement shakes.

  “Our satellite images show they’ve been moving around in a circular fashion.” He showed the clip that had been downloaded to him earlier. “We’re here.”

  Several men swore.

  “Yeah, they’re close, really close, and probably heading our way. So we’re leaving a small force here at the bunker with the Zodiac. They’ve stopped moving, so we’re guessing they’ve bedded down for the night. Jean and his guys are going to get ahead of them in case they run back to the city. The rest of us are going to meet them on the road. Going to spread out in three teams. We have to stop them before they get to the river,” said Kyle. “And we don’t have any time to coordinate local help, but the Civil Guard have been notified. We’re on our own.”

  Kyle demonstrated the route they’d be taking on the map. “Wear your night vision, of course, and we’re going to take our Invisios. I’ll give a com to each team. Coop, you lead one. I’ll get one, and, Tucker, I’d like you to lead the other.”

  It hit Tucker in the gut that he’d been given a lead the first time out. He chanced a glance to Brawley, whose nod was nearly imperceptible.

  “Snipers take your long guns, and Fredo, you and your guys make sure you load up on percussive and flash devices. Once we get a count, all three teams will hit at once, after Fredo tosses the percussive blast.”

  He called out the teams and the men staying behind with Wilson and Carson. He handed Tucker the sat phone, which he attached to his vest in the Velcro pocket he’d made especially for that purpose. Fredo passed out the Invisios so the team leaders could communicate.

  Two of Jean’s men were dressed in black sniper gear to guard the compound from the outside, with one man on the roof. The gate was opened, and the three teams jogged into the night, following the road. Jean’s men left in one of the Rovers.

  Along the way, Tucker’s NV picked up the reflective gold eyes of small animals in the brush.

  When they arrived at the launch point, they assembled one last time to coordinate the strike. Kyle’s tablet showed the latest heat signatures of more than a dozen people clustered in groups. It was impossible to make an accurate count. None of the images were moving. He motioned for Tucker to take his group, which included Ollie and Brawley around to the right, sending Coop to the west, on the left side of the encampment. Kyle would attack the middle.

  “We are a go.” said Kyle. “Check in, and wait for my mark.”

  Tucker’s group was able to follow a trail for several hundred feet and then came upon the campsite. A bright blaze from the campfire temporarily obscured his night vision, so he turned it off and flipped the scope up out of the way. His eyes slowly adjusted until he could see the sleeping forms ahead.

  “We’re in place,” he whispered and heard the confirmation from Coop and Kyle.

  “We can’t get a count,” said Kyle. “Tucker?”

  “Checking now,” he returned. Tucker moved closer. The fire gave him good visual advantage. He made out three forms tied together surrounding a small tree. They all appeared to be males. Another form sat in the driver’s seat of an older Jeep-type vehicle, a rifle of some kind lay across his lap. He appeared to be the lookout, but his head dropped, and Tucker determined he was asleep.

  “Got three males tied together right, sentry asleep in the Jeep, armed.” He inched closer. “Troop convoy has no movement but can’t see the back. We have eight, no, nine sleeping forms on the ground. I can’t see the women.”

  “Shit.”

  Tucker froze, holding Brawley from moving forward.

  “That’s two unaccounted for,” whispered Kyle. “Armani, anything?”

  “I got eleven on the ground.”

  “On my mark. Three…two…”

  Tucker waited, breathing slow. Then someone stumbled right over the top of them, coming from behind. As he fell, the man fired and woke up the whole camp. Fredo’s blast went off simultaneously.

  Tucker heard a thump and thought perhaps he’d been hit, but he remembered he’d worn his Kevlar. Brawley hit the shooter once in the head, the dark spray indicating it was a kill shot. Rounds started flying toward them, scraping the ground, tearing apart leaves, and pinning them down. “One kill,” he whispered into his mic.

  Cooper’s team hit the group from cover behind the vehicles. The sleeping driver had been taken out, but two panicked shooters started spraying the whole perimeter.

  “Two,” he heard in Coop�
��s distinctive voice.

  Tucker knew it would be nearly impossible for the automatic fire not to have hit someone on their team. There wasn’t any cover, and they’d planned for a coordinated stealth hit on the whole group. Gunfire ricocheted off the vehicles, sending sparks flying. “Three, four,” he heard, and the automatic spray in front of him was still.

  He had to extinguish the fire so the team could use their night vision scopes. He hoped Brawley would cover him as he ran into the circle, grabbed a blanket which had been covering a bloody body, and threw it over the fire, stomping it down until there was darkness again. He felt a sting on his upper right arm, which spun him around. He dropped to his belly again, firing in the direction of the shooter, and heard him hit the ground. “Five,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Tucker repositioned his scope and noted the body next to him had a heat signature. He touched the face and knew it to be a woman. She groaned. “One woman hostage, alive but wounded.”

  From behind, Brawley cut down a dark form he’d missed, running straight for him. “Six,” he reported.

  They heard a woman’s scream then a single shot. “Seven,” said Armando.

  “Eight and Nine,” he heard Kyle count off.

  “Danny’s got ten,” said Coop.

  Tucker heard movement near where the three men had been tied up. He saw the outline of a man using them for cover, as they stomped their feet and tried to scream through gags. Before he could take aim, Ollie came up behind and slit the man’s throat.

  “Eleven.”

  Everything was silent until he heard Kyle’s voice over the com. “Gather the wounded. Lights on.”

  Tucker flipped up his scope just in time before the high intensity lantern illuminated the scene. Coop and T.J. checked for signs of life and re-confirmed the body count. Brawley scanned the perimeter.

  Tucker knelt by the wounded woman and was aghast that she was still alive. Her body shook from a raging fever. Her right arm was bandaged where it ended at the wrist and was soaked with blood. She had multiple other wounds on her legs and around her neck. Barely conscious, he brushed the hair from her face and checked her pulse, which was weak, but she was still alive.