Afghan Storm (Nick Woods Book 3) Page 32

  Nick returned to the one functioning office and dialed Mr. Smith’s number.

  As soon as he answered, Nick knew he was in for some fun.

  “What the hell have you done? Why have you not been answering your phone? Where are you?”

  Nick waited for him to finish.

  “We’ve had some technical difficulties with the phone,” Nick said with a smile a mile wide across his face.

  “You have no idea how much shit you’re in. We told you to stay in place, and we know you did something. And now there are all these false stories out saying Deraz has been captured. I know you did that. Do you know how fucked we are when it comes out that it’s not true? That the war is actually over and we lost. You set everyone up for a major disappointment.”

  “But it is true,” Nick said.

  “What do you mean it’s true?” Mr. Smith snapped.

  “We captured him. S3 captured him, that is. But for now, we’ll just say the Afghan police did.”

  Mr. Smith was silent. Nick knew it was a lot to take in. It was nice, for once, having the power in the conversation.

  But then the man continued.

  “Nick, you disobeyed orders. You’re in so much shit. We’re talking congressional hearings here and prison. Prison, Nick. You knew what your orders were.”

  “Those hearings are going to be fun,” Nick said, “when I and the base commander and all the other military officers share how we were ordered to cease all operations and capitulate like complete cowards. Who’s going to take credit for those orders, by the way?”

  “This isn’t a game, Nick,” Mr. Smith chided.

  “You damn right, it isn’t!” Nick screamed. “Marcus and a slew of others are shot all to hell while you fucks sip coffee and decide what we should do from the comforts of your conference rooms!”

  “Nick, calm down.”

  “No, you calm down! This can go down one of two ways. Option one is you convince your bosses at the CIA that they can, for once, be on top of the political game. They can take credit for helping save a country that almost fell to pieces. They can help make this a victory and inform the President that the CIA used assets on the ground in a contractor company to capture Deraz and save the country.”

  “Nick, we had orders. Even my bosses. That won’t work,” Smith explained.

  “The hell it won’t! They can say on-the-ground assets lost communication with their superiors and reacted to fresh intelligence on the location of Deraz. Just say they were unable to obtain guidance from their superiors, so they took initiative and launched an immediate operation to capture the Taliban’s most highly valued target.”

  Mr. Smith sighed.

  “I can pitch that, but that story is about as bad as something a middle schooler would create. They’re not going to go for it.”

  “Then we’ll go with option two,” Nick growled.

  “And what’s option two?”

  “Option two is I go to all-out war on every dumb bastard that had a hand in this nonsense. Including you, if you get in my way. There will be so many leaks in the press and so much public outrage that even the janitors at the White House will be forced to resign.”

  “It’s a politically delicate situation,” Mr. Smith replied, sounding a bit surprised. “I’ll have to get back to you.”

  “Tell your bosses to get in touch with the Afghan president. Have him turn the convoy around and meet up with the two battalions on the outskirts of Kabul. We’ve nearly secured the presidential palace, and the Taliban are running. Let’s save this country and forget the bullshit politics. I hardly think after missing the attacks of 9/11, failing to foresee the rise of ISIS, and a dozen other screw-ups, that the CIA wants to have to explain how it missed that the Taliban was about to capture the capital. That no one saw it coming. Let’s give the CIA a win. They could use one.”

  As he waited for a response, Nick’s hands shook with adrenaline, frustration, and incredulity. Surely, they’d see the clear solution and do the right thing for once. Nick gritted his teeth, as he listened to the silence on the other line.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Mr. Smith conceded.

  Nick listened to the phone click dead and smiled. He knew common sense would win out and he had escaped with his skin again somehow.

  He looked around the warehouse for a vehicle. Now all he wanted to do was check on Marcus and the others back at Bagram.

  Chapter 109

  Nick opened the office door and was surprised to see Red standing outside it.

  “Oh. Hey, Red.” Nick said. “How are you back already? Is the presidential palace secured?”

  “Yes, sir.” the man reported, but with an unusual lack of enthusiasm. “It was actually pretty easy. The Taliban was running off by the time we got there. And the few that thought to brave it out didn’t stay long when they heard the planes and helo’s.”

  “What planes and helo’s?”

  “Well, the decision to move on the palace got deferred to the Bagram base commander, since our four-star general in charge of all operations in Afghanistan was in Washington for an emergency meeting with our President. And the Bagram commander was all for saving Afghanistan. He decided to stake his career on it.”

  Nick had watched Red closely as the little man gave his report. Something was off about him. He was too serious, subdued even.

  “Well,” Nick said, setting his observations aside. “It’s no big secret, really, that our general was a political appointment and a coward at best. But I’m impressed to have actually found a kindred spirit among us. That one-star base commander deserves a promotion in my book.”

  “Yeah, he does,” Red agreed. “Because that’s not all he did. Not only did he back us up big time, he called for an all-out effort to secure the palace. Fifty soldiers came in right behind us, and the commander had ordered another hundred flown in behind that.”

  “Wow,” replied Nick, impressed.

  “He’s also just announced a beefed up convoy with Apache escorts to bring the president back into Kabul,” Red continued. “Plus, believe it or not, Afghan police are drifting back in as well. And their wearing their uniforms.”

  “That infamous Afghan allegiance at its best,” said Nick, shaking his head. “Damn, I guess we really have licked the Taliban, at least for now anyway.”

  Red simply nodded, but his eyes had drifted off, resting in an unfocused gaze at the wall. Nick was about to question Red about his behavior, but suddenly the man asked, “So what happened with Mr. Smith?”

  Nick was a little startled to hear the question come out of Red’s mouth with such a genuine limit of interest in his voice. His eyes still looking, while not really looking, at the wall.

  “Uh,” Nick started. “Well, it was pretty ugly. But I think he has a good story to tell his superiors. And hopefully, they’ll buy it.”

  “But if not,” Nick hesitated as Red’s focus sharply snapped back on him. “Red, I want you to assure our team that I will fall on the sword. I made the orders, and as far as the CIA knows, I never told anyone that the orders were illegal.”

  Red looked Nick dead in the eye. “And I’ll be right there with you, boss,” the man said with absolute resolution. “I won’t let you go down all by yourself.”

  Nick gave the small man a grateful smile. “We’ll just cross that bridge if we have to. But it sounds like things are coming together and with luck, the results will weigh more than our errors in judgement.”

  Nick felt such a relief at how things had played out. There was a part of him that just wanted to celebrate what they’d actually pulled off, illegal or not. But there was another part of him that delayed the celebration as existing matters pressed heavily on his mind.

  Nick patted Red on the shoulder, the man’s eyes looked almost hollow this close. “Come on,” Nick said. “I want to go find a couple vehicles and check on Marcus.”

  Nick had just stepped passed Red when he realized that the little man wasn’t following him. He
hadn’t even moved.

  Nick stopped and looked back. “What is it, Red?”

  The little man turned, his face squinting and straining as he tried to hold back the rush of tears tumbling down his face.

  “No…” Nick muttered.

  “Dr. Julia called,” Red sobbed. “Marcus didn’t make it, man. He’s gone.”

  Red dropped his head into his hands, and at the same time, a flaming brick smashed into the floor of Nick’s stomach. His head started to spin, and he thought he was going to fall, but Red was there to catch him.

  Red pulled Nick’s unwounded arm around his small but sturdy shoulders. “Come on, boss,” Red said, shaking his own grief enough to help support his leader. “Let’s go back to the office for a bit.”

  Nick stumbled back to the office, leaning on Red, and felt the warmth of an unwelcome and traitorous tear slowly trickle down his face.

  Marcus…

  Epilogue

  The following days and weeks were a blur to Nick. He functioned, but barely. Red practically oversaw S3 and protected Nick from the majority of the backlash-bullshit from the missions.

  The two Afghan army battalions returned to Kabul, quickly re-establishing order. Police officers gradually resumed their duties, and the nation’s president vowed to relentlessly hunt down the Taliban and chase them all the way to the border.

  S3 vacated the warehouse, leaving it abandoned once more, and returned to Bagram. The team members engulfed the wounded: nursing them, checking on them, encouraging them.

  The Afghan mission to take down Rasool Deraz had cost Shield, Safeguard, and Shelter eight deaths and over a dozen moderate-to-light injuries. It would take months to rebuild S3 into a fighting force.

  The death of Marcus deeply wounded Nick. Losing Marcus rekindled the pain of losing Nick’s best friend and spotter, Nolan Flynn, back in the ’80s, whom he lost to the Soviets.

  Afghanistan had cost him Flynn then, and now Marcus.

  And the loss of Marcus brought back the black cancer of remorse inside Nick.

  Why had it been Marcus he had ordered into the streets to wave down the tanks? Why had he run out of his home after fighting with Anne the night she was later killed? Why had he ordered S3 into the Mexican slum, costing the lives of Lizard and so many others in the process? Were those close to him simply doomed to tragedy or death?

  So many dead. So much heartache.

  It consumed Nick’s soul and shamefully chipped away at remained of his heart.

  Nick had fallen so deep into the abyss that upon the unit’s return to the States, Red and Allen met and decided Nick needed to get away. They called Isabella, who immediately said she wanted to see Nick anyway.

  Nick agreed to return to Mexico, but Red and Allen knew better than to trust Nick to take care of himself. If left on his own, Nick wouldn’t make the trip to Mexico or even contact Isabella. He would spend weeks and weeks, drifting across the country on lonely highways and diving into bottles too deep to ever escape from.

  So Red and Allen helped Nick pack and against his strenuous objections, they flew with him to Mexico City, where Isabella promptly swept him up in her arms. She promised she wouldn’t let him out of her sight.

  And with that, she grabbed his arm and walked with him to their vehicle. Red and Allen hauled Nick’s luggage behind them and watched as Nick seemed to awaken to the positive energy and spirit of Isabella. Even the walk with her through the airport appeared to revive him.

  They loaded Nick’s luggage into Isabella’s armored SUV and waved, as the two drove off into the distance. Isabella had taken some family-emergency leave from the police department and booked a secluded beach resort for the next two weeks, after which she’d drag him back to her large condo.

  “Isabella will save that man from the darkness,” Red said, watching their vehicle until it disappeared in the traffic.

  “She will,” Allen agreed. “And then he’ll come back to the only thing he knows.”

  There was some concern in the statement, and Red knew Allen wasn’t a big fan of guns or violence.

  “Nick does what Nick knows how to do,” Red said. “Same as how you do what you know best.”

  Despite the fact that he had enough money from his book sales of Nick’s story to last him ten lifetimes, Allen had recently launched a watchdog group of senior reporters to conduct difficult and dangerous investigations into public officials and agencies.

  “I suppose you’re right,” Allen said.

  Allen knew Nick would do more than just return to S3 when he healed. Nick would resume his quest for vengeance against a particular U.S. Senator from Texas. And while Senator Ray Gooden deserved to die at the end of Nick’s gun, Allen had plans to change Nick’s mind on that regard. There were other ways to take a man down, and there were fates worse than a bullet fired from long range.

  But for now, Nick needed some sun, some Isabella, and some distance from the dark art he was a master of. If only for a little while.

  Author’s Note

  It should go without saying that clearly I am no expert on Islam. Though I have read a couple dozen books on Islamic terrorism and armed jihad, I am confident I have made some mistakes while attempting to fairly present their side. Nonetheless, I have tried to portray their goals and beliefs as accurately as possible.

  I owe my beautiful wife Danah so much for all her help on this book. She helped with the characters, she helped with the ending, she helped with rewrites on some of the chapters. She is a big reason for why this book, in my opinion, is my best ever.

  I also need to thank several current or prior uniformed members of our Armed Forces, who helped me make this book happen. These include former Army Captain Mathew Bocian, Army Ranger Sgt Travis, and USMC SSGT Frank Kovach.

  Other works by Stan R. Mitchell:

  Sold Out (Nick Woods, No. 1)

  Mexican Heat (Nick Woods, No. 2)

  Afghan Storm (Nick Woods, No.3)

  Little Man, and the Dixon County War

  Detective Danny Acuff, (Book 1)

  Soldier On

  About the author:

  Stan R. Mitchell writes some of the most action-packed, fast-moving novels around. Tired of slow-paced, investigative novels that take 50 pages to excite you? Look no further!

  Stan is the best-selling author of 5 novels in 3 different time periods. He's also a prior infantry Marine with Combat Action Ribbon, and a former journalist who spent ten years in the newspaper business, learning how to hook the reader, cut out the filler, and just tell the story.

  In short, Stan is knowledgeable, he's fast, and his books will blow you away. You can learn more about him at http://stanrmitchell.com.

  If you enjoyed “Afghan Storm (Nick Woods, No.3)” please consider dropping a short review of it on Amazon. Reviews go miles and miles toward helping readers discover new authors, such as Mitchell.

  FREE OFFER: Get a free electronic copy of Stan R. Mitchell's book, "Soldier On," when you sign up today for our mailing list.

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  And do not expect to be spammed or drowned with regular emails. The list will ONLY be used to notify you of when we release a new book, as well as for rare, HUGE updates. Get your free copy of “Soldier On” by signing up here!

  Don’t miss Mitchell’s other exciting book, Little Man, and the Dixon County War! (Free preview follows.) Book description:

  Blood. Pain. Justice.

  In the savage Wild West, these are three words that are more than just words on a page.

  You know them. You live them. And not a single dawn arrives that you’re not thankful to still be alive.

  In this brutal, untamed landscape, comes an honest man, who will do what’s right even if it costs him his life.

  Awaiting him is an evil cattle baron named McConnell, who’s the most powerful man in the West.

  The honest man -- Paul Zachary -- has just hung a badge on his vest, while McConnell has just set his sig
hts on the new lawman.

  McConnell has bribed or buried every man who's ever stood up to him, and he has almost a hundred gunhands under his control.

  It looks like the mortician is about to get really busy…

  “Little Man, and the Dixon County War” is a fast-paced thriller set in the Western era. Fans of “Appaloosa” and “Django Unchained” will almost certainly love this book.

  But be forewarned. There are no cattle drives or beautiful sunsets. No slow scenes with formal manners and tender dames.

  This is the gritty West. A place where lawless land barons push the weak, and sworn law officers balance keeping the peace and staying alive. Blood flows early and often, and danger lies waiting around every corner.

  This is not a book for the faint of heart, or for those who want to imagine living out west before the land was tamed. Had you lived in these times and on these pages, you'd keep a gun by your side. Probably two. And you'd damn well better have known how to use them.

  This book -- as you can see -- contains mature language and moves fast. It's a hard, thrilling ride, so if you choose to saddle up, prepare to be thrown off a time or two. And if you make it to the end, you’re not done yet: perhaps the only thing more thrilling and explosive than this book is its ending.

  (Publisher’s note: Due to the high demand for a follow-up book, production has already begun on Book 2. It’s expected to drop in the Spring of 2016.)

  Free Extended Preview of Little Man, and the Dixon County War follows below…

  Chapter 1

  My life took a turn for the worse the night a boy named Joe burst through the door of the Marshal’s office in Belleville, Texas.