Hawk (The Quiet Professionals, Book 2) Read online

  © 2014 by Ronie Kendig

  Print ISBN 978-1-62416-318-0

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63058-971-4

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63058-972-1

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  Scripture taken from the New American Standard Bible, © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation.

  Used by permission.

  Additional scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  For more information about Ronie Kendig, please access the author’s website at the following Internet address: www.roniekendig.com.

  Cover Design: Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design

  Published by Shiloh Run Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.shilohrunpress.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  DEDICATION

  Narelle Mollet—Steadfast, loyal, beautiful, encouraging—you are a light in my life! Thank you!

  XOXOX

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Special thanks to:

  To my family—Brian, Ciara, Keighley, Ryan & Reagan—thank you for enduring on-your-own meals as I race toward deadlines and for loving me through the zombielike states after all-nighters spent writing!

  Julee Schwarzburg—thank you for the countless hours you’ve spent on my many manuscsripts. I am very grateful!

  Tom Dean, David Dean, and Troy McNear—thank you for your time and help to make the thread against the super-secure network plausible and yet protecting not only me but our men and women in uniform by not supplying too much information.

  Steve Laube—thank you, Agent-Man, for your steadfast support and encouragement.

  Narelle Mollet, Dineen Miller, Carla Laureano, Shannon McNear, and Sarah Penner—thank you for your steady encouragement, laughter, and friendship!

  Thank you, Barbour Fiction Team—Annie Tipton, Shalyn Sattler, Becky Germany, Kelsey McConaha, Elizabeth Shrider, Linda Hang, and Mary Burns, for making this book happen! You’re awesome!

  Ironmance Team: Rachel Hauck, Lynette Eason, Katie Ganshert, Dani Pettrey, and Becky Wade—Wow! What would I do without you ladies, your prayers, and your support?! Thank you!

  Rapid-Fire Fiction Task Force—You are absolutely awesome! Thank you for your help, encouragement, and loyalty!

  LITERARY LICENSE

  In writing about unique settings, specific locations, and invariably the people residing there, a certain level of risk is involved, including the possibility of dishonoring the very people an author intends to honor. With that in mind, I have taken some literary license in Hawk, including renaming some bases within the U.S. military establishment, creating sites/entities that do not otherwise exist, and other aspects of team movement/integration. Also, some elements of the story are pure entertainment and, as with any work of fiction, demand a level of suspension of disbelief. Writing about a potential threat to our American military personnel can be tricky, and those experts within that field cannot divulge too much information. Therefore, to protect our heroes, some elements of the story about the cyber-security threat have been left intentionally and paritally vague. I have done this so the book and/or my writing will not negatively reflect on our military community and its heroes. With the quickly changing landscape of the combat theater, this seemed imperative and prudent.

  Table of Contents

  Glossary of Terms/Acronyms

  Character List

  Sundry Characters

  Special Forces Creed

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Boris

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Mitch

  Chapter 6

  Mitch

  Chapter 7

  Boris

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Bloodied Backs

  Chapter 11

  Boris

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Boris

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Necessary Risks

  Chapter 18

  Acrid Weakness

  Chapter 19

  Boris

  Chapter 20

  Mitch

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Boris

  Chapter 25

  Mitch

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Boris

  Mitch

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Glass Walls

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Boris

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  The Offer

  Boris

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  GLOSSARY OF TERMS/ACRONYMS

  AHOD—All Hands On Deck

  ANA—Afghan National Army

  CID—Criminal Investigations Department

  DIA—Defense Intelligence Agency

  Glock—A semiautomatic handgun

  HK416—Military assault rifle

  IED—Improvised Explosive Device

  Klick—Military slang for kilometer

  M4, M4A1, M16—Military assault rifles

  MRAP—Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected vehicle

  MWD—Military War Dog

  OIC—Officer In Charge

  OPSEC—Operational Security

  QBZ-95—Chinese assault rifle

  RPG—Rocket-Propelled Grenade

  RTB—Return To Base

  SAS—Special Air Service (Foreign Special Operations Team)

  SCIF—Secure computer used by the military

  SFOC—Special Forces Operational Command

  SOCOM—Special Operations Command

  STK—Shoot To Kill

  UAV—Unmanned Aerial Vehicle

  WO1—Warrant Officer, 1st Class

  CHARACTER LIST

  Boris Kolceki—expert computer hacker

  Brian “Hawk” Bledsoe (Staff Sergeant)—Raptor team member; coms specialist

  Cassandra Walker (Lieutenant)—works for DIA’s National Military Joint Intelligence Center

  Dean “Raptor Six” Watters (Captain)—Raptor team commander

  Eamon “Titanis” Straider (SAS Corporal)—Raptor team member; Australian; engineering specialty

  Fekiria Haidary (a.k.a., Second Lieutenant Rhmani)—ANA helicopter pilot; Zahrah Zarrick’s cousin

  Kiew Tang—executive assistant to
Daniel Jin

  Lance Burnett (General)—Raptor’s commanding officer; attached to Defense Intelligence Agency

  Meng-Li Jin /Daniel Jin—Chinese businessman

  Mitchell “Harrier” Black (Sergeant First Class)—Raptor team member; combat medic

  Mitra—Fekiria’s friend; runs a secret girls’ school

  Mitra’s “girls”—Aadela, Hadassah (Mitra’s daughter), Jamilah, Sheevah, Wajmah

  Salvatore “Falcon” Russo (Warrant Officer)—Raptor team member; aka team “daddy”; expert in ops/intel

  Sandor Ripley (Captain)—U.S. Air Force pilot; Fekiria’s flight advisor

  Todd “Eagle” Archer (Staff Sergeant)—Raptor team member; weapons expert; team sniper

  Zahrah Zarrick—Fekiria’s cousin; Dean’s girlfriend; missionary teacher

  SUNDRY CHARACTERS

  Adam Brennan (Sergeant)—soldier stationed at Bagram Airfield

  Adeeb Haidary—Fekiria’s older brother

  Baktash and Belourine—married couple who help Mitra

  Brie Hastings (Lieutenant)—General Burnett’s administrative officer

  Chris Riordan (Lieutenant Colonel)—Navy SEAL officer

  Ddrake—military war dog

  Garret Slusarski (Major)—officer stationed at Bagram Airfield

  Grant Knight (Sergeant)—Ddrake’s handler

  Jack Bledsoe—Brian’s grandfather

  Kitty Bledsoe—Brian’s grandmother

  Mahmoud (Colonel)—ANA officer

  Mason (Captain)—female officer at Bagram Airfield

  Mike Sanderson (Specialist)—soldier at Bagram Airfield

  Sajjan Takkar—CEO of Takkar Corp.

  Tony “Candyman” VanAllen—former Green Beret on Dean Watters’s team

  Zmaray/“The Lion”—assassin, terrorist

  SPECIAL FORCES CREED

  I am an American Special Forces soldier. A professional!

  I will do all that my nation requires of me.

  I am a volunteer, knowing well the hazards of my profession.

  I serve with the memory of those who have gone before me:

  Roger’s Rangers,

  Francis Marion, Mosby’s Rangers, the first Special Service Forces and Ranger Battalions of World War II, the Airborne Ranger Companies of Korea.

  I pledge to uphold the honor and integrity of all I am—in all I do.

  I am a professional soldier.

  I will teach and fight wherever my nation requires.

  I will strive always, to excel in every art and artifice of war.

  I know that I will be called upon to perform tasks in isolation, far from familiar faces and voices, with the help and guidance of my God.

  I will keep my mind and body clean, alert and strong, for this is my debt to those who depend upon me.

  I will not fail those with whom I serve.

  I will not bring shame upon myself or the forces.

  I will maintain myself, my arms, and my equipment in an immaculate state as befits a Special Forces soldier.

  I will never surrender though I be the last.

  If I am taken, I pray that I may have the strength to spit upon my enemy.

  My goal is to succeed in any mission—and live to succeed again.

  I am a member of my nation’s chosen soldiery.

  God grant that I may not be found wanting, that I will not fail this sacred trust.

  “De Oppresso Liber”

  CHAPTER 1

  Hindu Kush, Afghanistan

  17 December—0915 Hours

  Grip of death. The icy maw of winter in the Hindu Kush crushed breath from lungs with hammering winds. Bone-numbing iciness. Snowdrifts that could bury an entire mountain face as quickly as it could a person. Bitter and cruel, winter in Afghanistan held nothing back. Much like the insurgents trying to stop Raptor from seeing Christmas. Between deadly crevasses and IED-laden roads, the mountain range was a veritable kill zone.

  Staff Sergeant Brian “Hawk” Bledsoe scrambled for cover. Shoulder to the hill, he ignored the rocks digging into his joint. “What’d you see?” he shouted ahead.

  Captain Dean Watters went to a knee three yards up, a small cleft the only protection against the rounds of the Taliban they’d happened upon. “Eight, maybe ten fighters,” the commander called over his shoulder.

  As the communications sergeant of Raptor team, Brian was responsible for establishing and maintaining tactical and operational communications. He’d really like to communicate as much death to these death-loving Taliban as possible. “Mockingbird, this is Hawk. Raptor team is taking fire. Request air support.”

  “Hawk, this is Mockingbird. Sorry, but negative on the air support.”

  Brian’s gut tightened. “Mockingbird, I repeat—need immediate assist.”

  “Raptor, your location is designated no-fly at this time.”

  “What the—?”

  “Raptor, advise you disengage and RTB. Mockingbird out.”

  “Return to base,” Brian muttered. “If we could do that—”

  Rock and dirt spat at him.

  Brian buried his chin, hunching against the barrage of weapons’ fire. “If we die,” he shouted into the coms, “it’s your butt!” Snapping up his weapon, he cursed.

  And immediately felt the disapproval of the team captain. Brian slid his gaze in that direction. Sure enough—a scowl. “We’re on our own,” Brian bit out as he shifted around and aimed his M4 over the limb of a snow-draped shrub. Scanning the hill above them, he groaned. Insurgents had the high ground. Meant they had the advantage, too.

  Which meant Raptor had to find the dogs and rout them.

  He threw himself up the footpath and behind a bramble of shrubs. In position, he eased his weapon through the icy tundra and again checked the hillside. A patch of tan—smooth and consistent—peeked out.

  Brian eased back the trigger. Nice and easy. Three-round burst.

  A body tumbled from a ledge.

  Hooah. One down, too many to go. He reacquired the location. Scanned left with his pulse whooshing in his ears. Two days. Two lousy days left before some R & R, and now they step into this mess? He continued searching for the terrorists. Rocks. Debris. A defiant sprig of green.

  Gray!

  Brian fired—and saw the small explosion of muzzle flash seconds before he felt the searing across his arm. With a hiss, he dropped back against the hill, rocks and twigs digging into his back as someone on Raptor returned fire.

  “You okay?” Mitchell “Harrier” Black shouted.

  “Fine.” Brian glanced down at his arm, the trail of blood small. “Just made me a little madder.”

  “Pity the guy,” Harrier quipped.

  “Nah,” Eamon Straider, the Australian SAS corporal they’d dubbed Titanis, said. “I just delivered him to his seventy-two virgins.”

  “Hooah,” the captain murmured.

  Falcon elbowed out of the rocky alcove in which he’d taken cover and started forward. “Let’s finish this. I’m ready to head home.”

  Home. The guys all had somewhere to go, someone to spend the holidays with. Lucky ducks had—

  “Hawk, your six!”

  As the shouts of his call sign registered, so did the crunching of rocks behind him. Brian spun, coming up just in time to see something— someone—dropping on him. Adrenaline jacked, he knew this was fight or die! He lifted his arms.

  Too late!

  His head thudded against the rocks. Teeth clattered.

  Weapon!

  Brian grabbed the top end of the Talib’s AK-47 and jerked it forward, yanking his enemy with it—right into his fist. A solid crack sent the insurgent stumbling backward. Brian leapt after him. The guy had come to kill him. If he let him get away, the terrorist would find a way to finish the job. So Brian had to finish him first. He landed on the guy, skidding across the downsloping path. With a swift draw of his Cold Steel SRK, Brian ended the terrorist’s life.

  Adrenaline spiked, he verified the man was dead b
efore climbing off. Pops and cracks of weapons’ fire continued behind him. Adjusting his M4, he sized up the enemy positions. Where Raptor was pinned down. If they didn’t get to high ground, they’d be ground meat.

  Grabbing a crevice with both hands, he hauled himself up. This was where his upper body strength, the way he worked off steam and frustration, benefitted him. He might not be as fast as Salvatore “Falcon” Russo, their team sergeant/daddy, but he had the strength to take down the worst of their enemies.

  “Hawk!” Captain Watters’s shout chased him up the hillside. “Hawk, no!”

  Too late. He was halfway up and angrier than ever. These terrorists screamed and demanded honor but fought without it. The way they hid like cowards and picked off his team, men who worked hard to help make Afghanistan successful and peaceful in its own right, ticked him off. “And what do we get,” he grunted as he dragged himself up the last stretch. “Shot!”

  Hidden in a deep crevasse that gave him a sweet line of sight on the three shooters, he went to a knee. Propped himself up so he wouldn’t fall. Wind howled over his ears, despite the hat and helmet, as seconds clicked off, waiting for someone to fire at Raptor again so he could spot them.

  Crack.

  Brian flicked his weapon’s reticle back to the left. Sighted the first one. Bravado would be the man’s fall—literally. He’d chosen a ledge that exposed him to Brian. Adios! He fired. The guy slumped as a crimson stain spread over the rocky edifice.

  It took a second to locate the next shooter who’d taken cover, Brian imagined, when his friend went to hang with the virgins. He almost smiled. At least the guy wasn’t making it too easy for him. Evening his breathing, Brian took aim and eased back the trigger. The fighter twitched, lost his balance, and fell from his hiding spot.

  Now, the third.

  Thwack!

  Snow and rock dribbled onto Brian’s forehead. With a curse, he took cover. Slipped down the crevasse. He scrabbled for traction. Caught himself with a toe in a small indention. His breath puffed before him. “Easy, easy,” he whispered. Controlled breathing wasn’t easy with his heart pumping twice its normal rate, but Brian focused. He eased down, propping himself forward, weapon trained out. Snow now dusted his muzzle.

  More camouflage, he hoped. He slowed his breathing as he traced the rocks. The shrubs. More rocks. Come out, come out, wherever you—