Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 Read online

  © 2015 by Ronie Kendig

  Print ISBN 978-1-62416-319-7

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63409-379-8

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63409-380-4

  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.

  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

  To those who serve in the intelligence community, protecting Americans and their freedoms.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My husband, Brian—Thank you for letting me pester you with one scenario after another, enduring my irritation when you didn’t magically produce a perfect scenario or when I didn’t like one you suggested. You’re my hero!

  Keighley Kendig—My darlin’ girl whose passion for all things anime and manga helped me create a unique history for my characters. Thank you!

  Ryan & Reagan—Thanks for enduring many on-your-own meals while I fought to get this book done!

  My agent, Steve Laube—You encouraged and protected me so I could get this story written. Thank you, Agent-Man!

  Robin Miller—Thank you, dear friend, for being a champion, cheering and challenging me as I worked feverishly to finish this novel. God blessed me with you!

  Narelle Mollet and Shannon McNear—You ladies have tirelessly read every word I’ve written, encouraged me through waning courage, and cheered me on to the finish!

  Rapid-Fire Fiction Task Force—My own team of warriors and champions. You ladies make all the difference in the world.

  Ironmance Group—Thank you for your prayers, your support, encouragement and wisdom! I treasure you ladies!

  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 Falcon, 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 cybersecurity threat have been left intentionally and partially 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.

  CONTENTS

  Glossary

  Character List

  “Special Forces Soldier”

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Eamon

  Chapter 4

  Eamon

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Eamon

  Chapter 7

  Eamon

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Eamon

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Eamon

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Eamon

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  GLOSSARY OF TERMS/ACRONYMS

  ACU—Army Combat Uniform

  AHOD—All Hands On Deck

  ANA—Afghan National Army

  CECOM—Communications-Electronics Command

  CID—Criminal Investigations Department

  DIA—Defense Intelligence Agency

  IED—Improvised Explosive Device

  ISAF—International Security Assistance Force

  Klick—Military slang for kilometer

  M4, M4A1—Military assault rifles

  MARSOC—Marine Special Operations Command

  MRAP—Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected vehicle

  MRE—Meals Ready to Eat

  MWD—Military Working Dog

  NVG—Night-Vision Goggles

  ODA—Operation Detachment Alpha

  OEF/OIF—Operation Enduring Freedom/Operation Iraqi Freedom

  PCS—Permanent Change of Station RPG—Rocket-Propelled Grenade

  RTB—Return To Base

  SAS—Special Air Service (Foreign Special Operations Team)

  SATINT—Satellite Intelligence

  SCIF—Secure computer used by the military

  Sitrep—Military abbreviation for situation report

  SOCOM—Special Operations Command

  CHARACTER LIST

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

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

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

  Chris Riordan (Lieutenant Commander)—Navy SEAL officer

  Ddrake—Explosives Detection Dog; German shepherd

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

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

  Grant Knight (Sergeant)—Ddrake’s handler; temporarily assigned to Raptor team

  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

  Ramsey (General)—Brigadier general; commander of U.S. Army Joint Special Operations Command

  Sajjan Takkar—CEO of Takkar Corp.

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

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

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

  SUNDRY CHARACTERS

  Boris Kolceki—expert computer hacker

  Fariz Al-Bayati—teen caught up in combat zone

  Fekiria Haidary—ANA helicopter pilot; Zahrah Zarrick’s cousin; Hawk’s girlfriend

  Nina Laurens Takkar—Sajjan’s wife; Timbrel’s mother

  Phelps (Lieutenant General)—Associate Director for Military Affairs

  Schmidt—Navy SEAL on Riordan’s team

  Timbrel VanAllen—Tony’s wife

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

  Zmaray: “The Lion”/Lee Nianzu—assassin, terrorist

  SPECIAL FORCES SOLDIER (AUTHOR UNKNOWN)

  I was that which others did not want to be.

  I went where others feared to go,

  and did what others failed to do.

  I asked nothing from those who gave nothing,

  and reluctantly accepted the thought

  of eternal loneliness should I fail.

  I have seen the face of terror,

  felt the stinging cold of fear,

  and enjoyed the sweet taste of a moment’s love.

  I have cried, pained, and hoped,

  but most of all, I have lived times

  others would say are best forgotten.

  At least someday, I will be able to say

  I was proud of what I was…

  A Special Forces Soldier

  CHAPTER 1

  Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan

  25 March—1705 Hours

  Fire ruptured the black veil of night. A pillar of orange and yellow roared upward, thirty meters, leaving a trail of smoke, ash, and debris in its wake. Metal groaned and heaved, collapsing in exhausted defeat. Screams ripped the air, their primal howl propelling him across Kandahar Airfield.

  Warrant Officer Salvatore “Falcon” Russo sprinted with every ounce of strength he had toward the burning inferno that had been the U.S. Army’s Communications-Electronics Command building. The very building that held the key to unearthing the mole and those responsible for the attacks against the U.S. military’s super-secure network.

  Gunfire popped amid the crackling growl of the blaze. Behind him the thud of boots reassured him that Raptor team was hot on his heels.

  He shoved past a group of soldiers and airmen ogling the scene. Irritation skidded through him.

  “Stop staring and start helping!” he shouted and kept moving toward the garish scene.

  Hastily abandoned vehicles, debris, and moaning victims turned the parking lot into an obstacle course. Sal navigated through it, gaze locked on the facility. Injured stumbled from sections not yet fully consumed by the fire or decimated by the initial blast. A soldier hustled from amid the flames, his arm hooked around another soldier.

  “What’s the sitrep?” Sal asked.

  After helping the woman to the ground, her hands bloodied an angry red, the man straightened, his ash-smudged face shaded with shock as he studied the burning structure. “Uh… not good.” He swiped a hand along his forehead, leaving a dark streak. Blood. “Probably ten or twenty still… inside… inside our area. I d–don’t know about the other.” He swayed.

  Eamon “Titanis” Straider appeared behind him, catching the guy by the shoulders and easing him down. “Careful, mate. You took a blow to the head.” The Australian SAS corporal knelt over the man, cradling his head as the man relaxed on the ground.

  Sal pivoted, gauging the best way to help. He spotted a fire tech grabbing some gear from a water tanker and rushed over to him. “What can I do?”

  “Stay out of the way! It’s too hot. The building’s unstable.”

  “But there are people in there.”

  “Our men are on scene. If you go in there, that’s just one more body we’re digging out later.” Three sets of firefighters struggled against the blaze that felt angry and personal.

  Turning away, Sal bit back his frustration. Able to help yet unable to help. A shriek of pain drew his attention to the field of injured. Triage. Ambulances loaded wounded. He heard medics talking about sending some off base to the NATO hospital because they were quickly maxing out medical capabilities here.

  Across the base, a chopper descended as an ambulance raced toward it. Para-jumpers—PJs—were responsible for providing emergency and life-saving services to airmen, soldiers, and civilians in both peacetime and combat environments.

  Captain Dean Watters jogged toward him with a thrust of his chin, asking without words what was happening.

  “They don’t—”

  A loud cracking mingled with a tinkling sound that snapped Sal’s gaze toward the building. Near the fully engulfed area, a chair clattered across the ground. Sal looked to the window, which was now shattered. A man teetered precariously on the sharp glass, trying to haul himself free.

  He stumbled.

  Sal launched himself toward the injured airman. Even before he reached him, the bloody situation knotted Sal’s gut. Amputation by explosive. Below the knee, the guy’s leg was missing. Blood pooled around the guy’s stump.

  On his knees, Sal ripped out his combat application tourniquet.

  “Hey,” Dean shouted. “We’ve got an Alpha over here!” He bent over the man. “Stay with us. Okay?”

  The airman groaned.

  “I’m going to check on him,” Dean said, pointing to another person laid out a few yards away.

  Sal continued working, sliding the C-A-T up around the guy’s leg, tightening the strap, and securing it back on itself, blocking out the sticky warmth coating his hands now. He then used the free winder and tightened it until the blood flow slowed. With a hemorrhaging loss like this, it didn’t surprise him that the flow didn’t completely stop. He tugged off his belt and used it as a secondary tourniquet.

  The airman let out a feral howl then bit down and arched his back. He slumped like a limp rag with a pitiful moan.

  “Hey,” Sal said, checking for more injuries. “Where are you hurting?”

  Only another low moan.

  “Hey.” Sal shook his shoulder. “What’s your name?”

  “J-Jason.”

  “All right, Jason. Tell me where you’re hurting.”

  “Everywhere… my leg.” Jason rolled his head side to side, now whimpering. “Give me something and knock me out, man.”

  That was exactly what they didn’t want. Had to keep him conscious till the PJs or medical staff took over. “What happened, Jason? Do you know?”

  Boots pounded toward them.

  “Jason, can you tell me what happened?”

  The airman whimpered. “Blue on Green… blue. One of… ours—” His eyes rolled.

  “Jason! Hey!”

  Two PJs moved in with a stretcher, and Sal backed away to let them do their job and get Jason to the hospital within the golden hour. He glanced at his hands then wiped the blood on his tac pants. Not the most sanitary method, but in combat situations, time was against them.

  He squatted before the woman. “Hey, where are you hurting?”

  She sighed, tears trickling down her cheeks, marking dark rivulets against her skin. She shook her head. More tears sped down.

  Shock.

  “Hey.” Sal touched her shoulder then let his hand slide down her arm to surreptitiously assess her for injuries and a blood check. “What’s your name?”

  Unblinking, she stared at the building.

  Sal cut into her line of sight. But she still wasn’t seeing him.

  “She injured?”

  Depended on the definition of injured. Some wounds weren’t visible—the notorious kind that inflicted more trauma on the mind than the body. Sal looked up at Mitchell “Harrier” Black, Raptor’s medic, and shook his head. “Shock.”

  Harrier moved on.

  A clipped, incessant crackling—not hard like the fire, but softer—sifted through the chaotic night to Sal’s awareness.
The woman’s moans pulled his attention back. He wrapped his arms around hers and tried to draw her up. “Let’s move you to safety.” Away from the gruesome scene.

  The staccato noise broke into his awareness again. This time louder. More insistent.

  Sal glanced over his shoulder. Twenty feet away, he spotted Sergeant Grant Knight running after his military working dog, Ddrake, an impressive German shepherd who worked off-lead. Ddrake vanished around the side of the CECOM building.

  Suddenly Knight pulled up straight. Drew his weapon and aimed in the direction his dog had vanished.

  Knight and Ddrake needed backup. With one last look to the woman, Sal touched her shoulder. “Move to the fence.” He pointed her toward safety then took off toward the MWD/handler team.

  “On your knees, on your knees,” Knight shouted, his weapon trained on someone. “Now or I will give my dog the command to take you.”

  In a wide arc, Sal rounded the corner, pulling his M4 up. There, not more than fifteen feet away, a man wearing an Afghan National Army uniform stood in a standoff, half poised to run.

  Sal took a bead on the hostile. “What’s going on?” he asked Knight, backing him up.

  “Ddrake hit on him.” Knight hadn’t relaxed. “He’s PEDD. Something’s wrong.”

  Patrol Explosives Detection Dog. That meant Ddrake detected the scent of explosives on this man. Or a similar chemical scent.

  A secondary hit? Sal tightened his shoulders. Considering the burning building beside them…

  “Blue on Green…” Jason’s earlier words speared his mind. The code for attacks on American troops by their trained allies, the ANA. Like this man in front of them.

  His heart shoved into his throat. “Down! Down on your knees, hands up,” Sal shouted in Pashto, Dari, then Farsi.

  The man reached for something.

  Sal couldn’t wait any longer. Couldn’t risk another attack. He coiled his finger against the trigger.

  “No shoot,” the man shouted, thrusting his hands in the air.

  No way he’d relax. Not now and end up in a billion pieces. “Hands!” Sal inched closer.

  The man pitched forward, a tiny explosion ripping through his chest.

  “Shooter! Taking fire!”