A Team of One: An Unsanctioned Asset Thriller Read online

  A Team of One

  An Unsanctioned Asset Thriller

  Brad Lee

  Contents

  1. Direct Action

  2. The Exit

  3. The Woods

  4. The Office

  5. The Range

  6. The Memo

  7. The Assistant

  8. The Bomber

  9. The Mother

  10. The Apartment

  11. The Plan

  12. The Flight

  13. The Shine

  14. The Run

  15. The Horse

  16. The Uncle

  17. The Research

  18. The Risk

  19. The Prep

  20. The Bombs

  21. The Shots

  22. The Talk

  23. The Street

  24. The Trust

  25. The Police

  26. The Backup

  27. The Drive

  28. The Attack

  29. The Beginning

  30. The Dawn

  31. The War Zone

  32. The Reaction

  33. The Attack

  34. The Truck

  35. The Wish

  36. The Distraction

  37. The Kill

  38. The Death

  39. The Kit

  40. The Driver

  41. The Roof

  42. The Winch

  43. The Assessment

  44. The Call

  45. The Shock

  46. The Deal

  47. The Skyline

  48. The Situation Room

  49. The Story

  50. The Clues

  51. The Hunch

  52. The Analysis

  53. The Helicopter

  54. The False Flag

  55. The Update

  56. The Serial Killers

  57. The Choice

  58. The House

  59. The Idea

  60. The Boat

  61. The Other Shoe

  62. The One Percent

  63. The Back Channel

  64. The Invisible Man

  65. The Competition

  66. The SRT

  67. The Naps

  68. The Report

  69. The Preparation

  70. The Breach

  71. The Fall

  72. The Beach

  73. The Surf

  74. The Water

  75. The Dock

  76. The Showdown

  77. The Goons

  78. The Bodyguard

  79. The Room

  80. The Blood

  81. The Recognition

  82. The Unsanctioned Asset

  83. The Old Friends

  84. The Shock

  85. The Attack

  86. The Door

  87. The Pilot

  88. The First Strike

  89. The Start

  90. The Alert

  91. The Target

  92. The Assault

  93. The 50

  94. The Clearing

  95. The Gold

  96. The Shots

  97. The Atrium

  98. The Door

  99. The Dive

  100. The Sub

  101. The Bird

  102. The Angel

  103. The Hospital

  104. The Army

  105. The Jail

  106. The Kitchen

  107. The Fort

  108. The Letter

  109. The Date

  110. The Confrontation

  111. The Bluff

  112. The Lights

  113. The Mole

  114. The Team

  115. The Village

  116. The Shot

  117. The Guard Dog

  118. The Offer

  119. The Dawn

  120. Author’s Note

  Copyright © 2021 by Simply Sensible Entertainment, Inc.

  ISBN: Print 978-0-9899547-4-7 Ebook 978-0-9899547-5-4

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means known now or in the future, including electronic, photocopying, recording, scanning, without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations for review purposes.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters and events depicted are from the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is coincidental.

  Any brand names and-or product names in this book are trade names, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publisher, author, and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the work.

  1

  Direct Action

  The whole op felt wrong from the start.

  Alex’s night vision goggles made the door—and everything else in his vision—appear green, but after fifteen years of almost nightly use, he barely noticed. He stood next to the entrance of the house made of hardened mud and straw. The wooden door looked old and warped from the sun. It didn’t look strong enough for them to worry about blowing. A powerful kick would do it.

  He shook his head slowly in resigned annoyance. No way would the man they were to capture or kill would be here. Why would he hide in such a small town in this hot, poor country?

  Rule number one: the intelligence is always wrong.

  Not that it mattered. They were sent in, so they would get the job done. If he was here, they would find him.

  It’s what they did.

  Lincoln—aka “Link”—silently moved his bulk in front of the door, close to the dented round knob. The equipment vest filled with extra mags and everything else they needed for the night made him look even bigger. Next to him, Alex’s six-foot muscular frame seemed puny.

  Ron and Hector stayed lined up behind Alex—call sign “Axe,” covering the rooftops of the buildings across the street.

  Over the past years, they’d done countless operations like this. Creep into an enemy area, so smooth and silent even the sleeping dogs didn’t stir. Knock down or blow the door, clear the rooms, and kill those who kept them from completing their mission.

  Just another day at the office.

  Link looked at Axe. Despite the NVGs, they knew what the other was thinking.

  This is a complete bust—or an ambush. Or both.

  The brass had a hard-on for the guy a young analyst had dubbed “the Boomer”—a play on “boom,” the sound his creations made when they exploded, and his supposed age. Rumors swirled, but the only things known for sure about the guy were that he’d been around for years, was highly educated, and a maestro with bomb making—he was the damn Michelangelo of explosives.

  Even worse: he excelled at teaching others the art of blowing shit up.

  His devices, and the ones made by his students, were killing people in regional conflicts all over the world. It was long past time for him to die.

  The analysts argued about his origins: he was European. Or Middle Eastern. Or an American Green Beret gone rogue. The only description they could agree on came from an informant: fit, “older,” and his eyes were spellbinding. “They see right through you. They pierce your soul.”

  Basically, the intel nerds knew just enough to track rumors and send warriors on wild goose chases after the guy.

  Dangerous wild good chases.

  Now it was their turn to be tasked with finding him. The team had joked about the intel geeks’ apparent plan: for them to gaze deeply into the eyes of everyone in the village until they found their guy. Whether those people were shooting at them or not.

  Brilliant.

  So here they were
, in a poor village of narrow, sun-baked dirt roads separating rows of one-story buildings. Most were connected on each side. Some joined to form small clumps of buildings. The town sprawled, with seemingly no plan where new buildings had been constructed. It looked random. Want a home? Pick a bare piece of dirt and build there—no matter if it’s in the middle of a street or up against the neighbor’s wall.

  The rotten smell of garbage mingled with the stench of open sewers. But every house had a satellite dish.

  Axe shifted his weight, ready to enter first as soon as the door opened. Hector’s hand grabbed his shoulder, the signal everyone was ready to go.

  Link considered the door before he glanced at Axe.

  Again, they were on the same wavelength. I bet it’s unlocked. They had ceased marveling at how often bad guys didn’t bother to secure their doors. Of course, bad guys never feared the locals. But if you messed with the USA, you’d better at least lock the door.

  Axe nodded and took a half step forward, his M4 up and ready.

  Behind him, Hector—‘Thor’—and Ron followed silently. It was time.

  Link’s gloved hand grasped the knob and tested it. It turned easily and, thankfully, with no noise. Link held his shotgun, chambered with a breaching round, ready in one hand. It would make quick work of any deadbolt, hinges, or bar that might prevent the door from opening.

  Axe held up his fingers, counting down. 3. 2. 1.

  Link turned the knob fully and pushed the door. He moved out of the way as it swung open, allowing Axe to enter the large room.

  One quick glance cleared behind the door and he turned to cover the left side of the room, knowing Hector would follow and clear right.

  The green glow of the NVGs picked up the man in the corner, sitting on the floor, AK-47 across his knees. Awake, on watch… but not alert enough. This was why they attacked at zero-dark-thirty. Why they slept all day: to be wide awake all night. Ready to fight.

  The enemy? Not so much.

  The man’s eyes widened in surprise and he tried to point the AK at Axe.

  Wrong move. Axe shot him in the chest twice, followed by another between the eyes, the back of his head splattering against the wall, black in the view of the goggles. He toppled sideways, his dead weight knocking over a low, flimsy table draped with fabric.

  As Axe’s eyes looked for another target, he noted the doorway along the left wall, opening into another room. His brain also automatically registered the dark hole in the wall next to the dead guy that had been hidden by the table.

  Another man stepped into the doorway to his left, but Axe was ready. His finger squeezed the trigger instinctively at the threat, relying on thousands of hours of training and experience to aim and shoot. He was an elite warrior, the best the USA could produce.

  Which made the shock of the bullet’s impact on his chest more of a surprise. The bastard had been faster than him.

  The intense pain threatened to distract him.

  He didn’t let it. He focused his mind, using the pain to his advantage.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, after all.

  He fired a second time, milliseconds after his first shot. Both bullets hit his enemy, a perfectly tight grouping at the man’s heart.

  Step one: push them back.

  He fired again, putting a third bullet into the man, blowing off his face even as the lifeless body fell backwards.

  Step two: a shot to the head in case the target is wearing body armor, like the plate that had just saved Axe’s own life.

  He took one step towards the open doorway, prepared to step over the dead combatant and clear the next room, before he stopped cold.

  The hole in the wall.

  He subconsciously understood the situation, his gut telling him what to do before his brain has processed the information.

  He glanced at it again, trying to both cover the doorway and gather the intel his mind demanded. His sense of danger, honed to a fine edge over the past years, screamed at him.

  “Trap,” he announced, his voice not betraying the fear that seized his heart. His mind had noted the wire running along the floor to other parts of the room. It had figured out the hole was filled with explosives. The whole room was rigged to blow.

  Still, one of the many mantras learned over the years came to his mind: Calm is contagious.

  “Out. Now.”

  He stepped backwards, gun still on the open doorway.

  “Moving,” Hector called from behind him.

  “Moving,” Ron echoed from near the door.

  “Covering,” Link added from outside, heard more through the radio in Alex’s ear than over the quiet night.

  “Bombs,” Axe added as he continued backwards. “Get away from this house.”

  They’d been inside five seconds and killed two enemy.

  Axe cleared the door and hurried to the side, transitioning from covering the room to focusing on the dusty street and sleeping village.

  Hector would have moved to the opposite side of the doorway and up the street. He saw Link across the street and several steps down the block, covering the rooftops above their heads.

  Only Ron remained in front of the house, though across the street, moving away while covering the roof above Hector’s head.

  It was almost far enough.

  The house exploded, bits of mud and rock flying outward. Dust flew up, hanging in the still air, clouding the area.

  Then the firing started.

  The staccato sound of the AK-47s came first, followed immediately by the noise of Link’s M4, his shotgun shouldered for the moment.

  Axe had no targets, though he shot the man who fell off the roof above him and landed with a splat at his feet, in case Link’s bullets hadn’t done the trick.

  He heard Hector shooting behind him, then had his own targets on the roof of the houses above Link’s head.

  Tap, tap. Tap, tap. His bullets hit home, dropping the two enemy.

  “We need to move. West. Go.” Axe fired as the enemy popped above the roof line like whack-a-moles.

  “Moving,” Hector added in his calm voice, tinted with a slight Hispanic accent.

  Link provided cover fire.

  With the night vision goggles, they had the advantage. Cover and move. Fire while your buddies moved, then move while they covered you.

  They would advance up the road and link up with the other four SEALS, waiting in a defensive position outside the town. As team lead, Ron would call them as he moved under Link and Axe’s covering fire. He’d decide whether to hole up and wait for their reinforcement or continue to assault to the rendezvous.

  “I’m down.” Ron’s voice was tight, trying to hold in the pain. “My legs got hit with shrapnel.”

  Damn, Axe thought. That’s not good.

  “I can’t walk.”

  “I got him,” Axe said. He turned and ran the few steps to Ron, propped against the wall, already bandaging his lower legs. “How bad?”

  “Still in the fight, but I’m not walking out. You’re going to have to carry me.”

  “Good thing I’ve been working out, I guess.” He eyed the shredded legs in the NVGs. It looked bad—but survivable, if they could get him to a hospital soon.

  They looked at each other in the dark as Hector and Link shot bad guys around them. The pace of fire picked up. It had been a trap, but they’d beaten the two guys who must have volunteered to martyr themselves by staying in the house rigged to blow… or had believed they could take out the SEALS without resorting to the explosives.

  “Have Echo One meet us halfway?”

  The gunfire lessened.

  Ron nodded. “I’ll call it in. We’ll assault west as long as we can. Hole up if necessary. But we still have the advantage—”

  Both closed their eyes in pain as the world lit up around them, as if the sun suddenly rose hours early.

  “Flare!” Hector said, as the AK fire started up, twice as much as before.

  The second
part of the enemy’s trap.

  The flare drifted downward, bathing the town in light, and destroying the tremendous advantage provided by the night vision goggles.

  “I’m hit.” Link’s rate of fire increased as he spoke. “Only my side. Missed anything important.”

  “Echo One, Echo Two, over?” Ron’s voice was all business on the radio.

  “Go Echo Two.”

  “In contact. I’m down, both legs. One other wounded. Heading to you. Can you advance and cover?”

  Alex listened while kneeling next to Ron, protecting him as he added his gun to the escalating fight, his useless NVGs flipped up.

  Enemy fighters flooded the street and rooftops.