One
months ago.
“You wanted to see me, sir?” Caitlin Cooper asked after knocking on her supervisor’s doorjamb. Jack Roper’s door stayed open when he was in the office, and if it wasn’t for him wearing a different set of clothes each day, Caitlin would wonder if the man actually ever went home. Not a week went by without him uttering the phrase, The news never sleeps. She figured he applied that rule to himself as much as possible.
“Come in, Cooper.” Jack didn’t look up from the pile of papers on his desk. The man had four computer monitors spread out behind him, but he came from the era when pen and paper were the gold standard, even though their media was television and not written periodicals.
She took a seat opposite him and placed her hands in her lap. She’d been on her way back from lunch when she’d gotten his message to see him immediately. There’d been no time to swing by her desk to retrieve her tablet to take any possible notes. Unlike her boss, Caitlin enjoyed the use of modern technology.
“You know hours ago the US conducted an airstrike utilizing the largest non-nuclear weapon in its arsenal.”
Caitlin nodded. “They’re calling it the mother of all bombs.”
“It’s a MOAB, Massive Ordnance Air Blast, but yeah.” He picked up a piece of paper and handed it to her. She took it and glanced down at the official press release regarding the strike.
“Word is they took out ISIS tunnels and bunkers.”
“You think there’s more they’re not saying.”
Jack leveled his stare at her. “There’s always more that they’re not saying. Remember the Khataba raid? US special missions operators killed five civilians, including two pregnant women. NATO and the UN claimed to know nothing about it. Journalists dug in and discovered US JSOC operators were involved and removed the bullets from the bodies in an effort to cover up the mistake.”
She remembered when the story broke. The local journalist had been detained. The military did not want the truth to get out and had spun some story about how the women had already been killed by insurgents sometime prior to the special ops arrival. Once the truth came out, the whole incident had led to an even bigger story. The unprecedented power of the JSOC—Joint Special Operators Command—shedding light on their drone and snatch, grab, assassinate programs. Caitlin could appreciate the complications of war. It was messy and gritty. She, like many other Americans, owed a debt of gratitude to the men and women fighting for their freedom and prayed for their safe return home. She understood there were covert units throughout all branches of the military and federal agencies. But this one? It was the only one that reported directly to the White House, making it a paramilitary arm of whatever administration was in office. An organization that handled the most sensitive counter-terrorism attacks all over the world, not just in active war zones. The revelation was shocking, and she figured more would come to light about the unit’s questionable authority. But, a year later, JSOC’s efforts led to the death of Osma Bin Laden, the most hated man in the world and founder of the al-Qaeda terrorist organization, effectively silencing critics and burying further stories.
“I remember.”
Jack sat back in his chair, staring at her. She wanted to squirm at his perusal, but she didn’t. She had a feeling he was assessing her for a reason. No way did she want to show any kind of weakness.
“I need someone on the ground at Nangarhar. Initial reports are thirty-six casualties consisting of ISIS militants. Reconnaissance units are going in, so that number is sure to go up. I sent Harris last week to cover the bombing in Syria. The administration is facing heat with that decision since more reports are coming through that the US may have bombed a mosque. No way can I pull Harris off that assignment and send him to Afghanistan to cover the MOAB strike, which may have been better planned and not reveal any casualty cover-ups.”
“You’re sending me.” It wasn’t a question. There was a reason he’d wanted to see her immediately rather than wait and discuss this tomorrow at the team’s daily status meetings when new assignments were discussed and assigned.
“This will be your first assignment reporting outside the wire.”
She nodded. She’d covered several stories in the Middle East over the last couple of years. It was still dangerous, but there’d been a certain amount of comfort reporting from inside the wired walls and heavily armed boundaries of the coalition base. A surge of nervous energy engulfed her, but she worked hard to regulate her breathing to keep her boss from noticing anything other than sheer determination to get the job done.
“You fly out tonight and rendezvous with the camera man currently on rotation filming general footage of the war. If you find anything worth noting, you’ll film your story and submit your clip for airing. If it’s a hot story, you’ll get live coverage. Any questions?”
She was reeling but totally ready. If she got the scoop on any military cover-up, it could propel her career. “No, sir.”
“Good. Report to me once you arrive. Since you don’t have your notebook, I’ll email you the names of some of our contacts that’ll get you headed in the right direction.”
Crap. She didn’t need him to think she walked around unprepared. “Just came back from lunch, sir. I’ll have my tablet on the ready.”
“And your notebook. Never forget. The pen is mightier than the sword.”
She seriously didn’t think the adage applied to war zones, but no way was she voicing that.
He rose from his desk, extending his hand. She shook it. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
Caitlin hightailed it out of his office, digging for her phone as she made her way to her desk. She pulled up her contacts and called Allie Patterson, one of her oldest friends.
“Hey, girl. Can’t wait to see you this weekend,” Allie said as way of answering the call.
A twinge of regret stabbed at Caitlin. She hadn’t been back home to Montana in years. She and Allie got together from time-to-time when a favorite band was playing in a major city or one of their friends organized weekend getaways in Chicago. “About that,” she started slowly, hating she was going to have to cancel.
“Oh no. I know that tone. And here I was just thinking if I can get away from my over protective brother for like two seconds, I’d give you the low-down on all the naughty girls’ night out stuff I’d planned.”
She heard a distinctively male voice mutter something, and Caitlin knew Hank was probably hovering a little too close to Allie. There was a time that Caitlin would have dropped anything for a chance to be in the same room as Hank. But time changed things. He went into the military and moved off, which had been the time away for her little heart to focus on other boys. Not that Caitlin had time to date, but even if she did and was still interested in Hank, that man was head over heels for Hollywood star Sadie McClain. It was never meant to be. She never thought much about her insane crush these days, but she felt a heat creep up her throat at the sound of his voice. That heat had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with the embarrassment of her younger years.
“Caitlin?”
“Huh?” she asked, realizing she’d zoned out for a few seconds and hadn’t heard what Allie had said.
“I said, what’s the story about? Because I know you ditching plans has to be because of work.”
She was at her desk now and started shoving things into her laptop case. “Sorry, yeah. I’m investigating the bomb that was just dropped in Afghanistan.”
“Are you going to the bomb site?”
“Yeah. The mother of all bombs is a story in and of itself, but there could be more.” She didn’t elaborate any. At this point, it was just speculation, and she has an ethical code not to spread misleading information.
“But isn’t that dangerous? I mean, I know Afghanistan is dangerous anyway, but you’re going out to where they just dropped a bomb. It’s an active combat zone.”
“Yeah, it’s dangerous, but I can’t focus on that. I have to fly out tonight.”
“Tonight?” she squeaked. “Jeez. This is happening too fast. You need time to prepare before you go trotting off into a war zone—”
“Caitlin.” But the voice coming through the phone now was no longer Allie’s. It was deep and authoritative. Her heartbeat stuttered and then kicked up. She figured it was because Hank startled her when he’d snapped her name.
“Give me back my phone,” she heard Allie protest in the distance.
“What’s your ETA in Afghanistan?” he asked her, ignoring his sister’s continued pleas in the background.
“I-I don’t know. I fly out tonight. I imagine sometime tomorrow night, why?”
“Who’s your contact?”
“Um, I don’t know. I literally found out I’m leaving like thirty seconds ago. The information is being emailed to me as we speak. I’m loading up my computer now and then heading to my apartment to pack.”
“Forward it to me before you leave your office.”
She paused, wondering where this stern attitude was coming from. “Why?” she asked, drawing the word out.
“All the color drained out of Allie’s face when you told her where you were going, so she’s freaking out. And for good reason.”
“I know she’s worried, but that still doesn’t tell me why you want to know.”
He huffed, his frustration clearly coming through the cell signal. “Because I was a SEAL and still have some friends over there. They didn’t bring out the MOAB for something minor, and you’re heading right into the line of fire. Allie’s worried, and you’re like a sister to me. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
You’re like a sister to me.
At least he’d never come out and said those words when she was ogling him from across the room. They would have crushed her little infatuated heart. Now, she felt a different kind of warmth. He was worried for her safety and that deflated any argument she’d been building in her head.
“Okay, Hank. I’ll send you the info. I’ll even check in with Allie.”
“And your parents.”
She sighed. Jeez, if her friend’s brother was acting this worried, she could only imagine how her dad was going to take this news. She’d already planned on calling them next. “Got it, Hank.”
There would be no arguing with him. She might have been crushing on him as a boy and jumped to do whatever he said, but now he was hard man commanding authority and expecting compliance. He’d lived a lifetime long before the Brotherhood Protector bodyguard agency he created and before she grew up and tucked him neatly in the friend zone.
He must’ve handed the phone back to Allie because it was her voice that came through next. “Please, be careful. Find some strong solider with guns hanging off every limb to protect you.”
Caitlin wanted to chuckle at the image of that, but the muffled words of Hank, stopped her.
“I’m already on it.”
* * *
Burrell had no clue why the Major General wanted to see him. He should be out training with his team and getting ready to head to the Gulf for exercises. When he’d asked his CO why he’d been singled out when he wasn’t even the team leader of his unit, Owen had gotten his ass chewed about following orders. Hell, he knew the drill. He’d been in the military for years and that was before he’d re-upped a few years ago.
Although, he hadn’t thought he was going to stay in the military back then. He’d been on block leave working with the Orion team in cooperation with other military units at the time, but once their targets were neutralized, the group had been dismantled. Oh, he figured it could have taken on more operations on rotation, but once Oz had fallen in love with Bryn while on assignment several years ago, his former team leader had retired to be with her. Owen and Ollie had re-upped and been assigned to different units. Owen was now part of DEVGRU, more commonly known as SEAL Team Six. After bin Laden had been KIA, he knew the media wouldn’t stop until the group assigned to take him out had been identified. Those guys had been from Red Squadron. Owen was in the Black Squadron, but he knew them. Like many groups within the military, there was a camaraderie among the naval special warfare group.
Owen was damn good at his job, but he’d be lying if he said the decision to retire didn’t weigh on him. The war on terror ended up being a much larger campaign than anyone thought back when it had started. With the war in Iraq and Afghanistan and now against ISIL, the US needed all the servicemen they could get. It made him feel a little guilty when he thought about not renewing again. His contract was up later this year, assuming they didn’t involuntarily extend it another twelve months. That was a definite possibility, and nothing he could do about that if it happened.
It was oh-eight on the dot when he rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
Owen entered and saluted. “Commander Owen Burrell reporting, sir.”
“At ease.”
Owen dropped his hand and stood in proper position awaiting further command.
“You’re aware we had a C-130 drop a gift in Nangarhar.”
He was more than aware. Owen was pretty sure it was still the talk of the base. “Yes, sir.”
Major General Ethan Burge regarded him for several seconds. “Have a seat, Commander,” he finally said. Owen took the chair directly across from him. The man was one of the hardest ever created in the US military. He was the deputy commander of operations and intelligence of CJTF-OIR. The Combined Joint Task Force was only a couple of years old and headquartered in Kuwait, so Owen had never had a chance to meet him personally. He was a fellow SEAL, so there was the unspoken brotherhood bond, but the man before him was powerful. Major General Burge worked under the US Lieutenant General Stanley Tanner, the man at the helm of CJTF on Operation Inherent Resolve, which had been established to degrade and destroy ISIL.
“My CO didn’t provide any intel as to the nature of this meeting.” Then he quickly added, “Although, I’m always ready and available to serve without question.”
Burge raised an eyebrow. “Your CO hasn’t been cleared to receive the details. He was none too happy being stonewalled.”
That explained the hostility when Owen had tried to ask for clarification. No one liked being out of the loop, especially when the loop involved his subordinate men.
“Are you familiar with the Crazies?”
Owen blinked as his brain raced. He was familiar with a lot of terms used to describe the locals and various factions of insurgents, but he was drawing a blank with this particular terminology. “Is that slang for one of the tribes, sir?” He hated asking. It made him look incompetent to a superior.
Burge cracked a smile. “Sorry, Commander. Although I do appreciate where you head went when I asked, I meant the Crazy Mountains. Your records indicated you’re from Montana.”
If he’d been curious about this meeting earlier, he was downright confused now. “Yes, sir. I’ve heard of the Crazies. The range is supposed to be beautiful and home to a variety of people ranging from local land workers to the rich and famous seeking solitude.”
“Supposed to? Have you never visited the range yourself?”
“No, sir. I’m from Big Sky. It’s closer to the Wyoming border and Yellowstone National Park.” He’d said it as if that was all the explanation the Major General needed.
“Ah, I guess that is a bigger draw than a small, isolated mountain range.”
The silence was almost painful. Owen tried to think of why his home state had anything to with his job a world away. He came up blank, unable to think of any connection, even very thin ones that might help explain where the Major General was going with this. Even though the man hadn’t asked, Owen figured he should provide an answer anyway. “Yes, sir. Yellowstone National Park was always the bigger draw for me.”
Burge shifted in his seat, leaning slightly closer. “I’m putting you on a special op, Commander. A former teammate of mine and fellow SEAL has called to collect on a favor I owe him. There’s a Ms. Caitlin Cooper in transit to our desert digs, and she’s going to need protection. That’s where you come in.”
Protection? “Is there a price on her head?” he asked seriously as he scanned his thoughts on the name. It was familiar to him, but he couldn’t place why.
“Nothing like that. She’s a journalist coming to cover the MOAB strike.”
Jesus, he hoped like hell he hadn’t groaned at the word journalist. He understood the freedom of the press and all that business, but this was war. Her face still didn’t flash in his head with the new information, but he’d seen many correspondents over the years on his tours.
“She hails from Eagle Rock, though I’ve been told she hasn’t lived in Montana in some time.” Burge frowned briefly before continuing in a no-nonsense manner. “You’re familiar with the Achin District since your team had been tasked with scoping it out prior to the order to strike, and she’ll no doubt request passage. Your team isn’t on assignment, so pulling you away for a few weeks won’t cause any disruption to our primary mission here. And you have something in common with the reporter having both come from the same state.”
“This is a babysitting job,” he said without thinking.
“More like you’ll be her personal bodyguard. You’ll be given a small crew to assist in her protection and to fight combatants, but she’s your primary objective. You’re all over her like morning dew. She won’t be able to burp without you identifying what she had for lunch. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, but the words felt like they’d been muttered on autopilot as anger settled in. He stared straight ahead, wondering who in the world he pissed off to land this kind of karma.
“Sorry, Sailor. I know it seems you drew the short straw on this, and well, because of circumstances, you did. I have a personal stake in this, but make no mistake, this isn’t some unsanctioned op. Lt. General Stanley Tanner signed off on this. He did so because I asked him to, which means not only will you be reporting directly to me, but he’s fully aware of this assignment and will be kept abreast of the all the details surrounding it as well.”
Holy shit. It shocked the hell out of him that he’d be reporting directly to the Major General, but to hear the Lt. General would be keeping tabs on him, too? Owen had never had this close of a direct line to the more political officers. He would have to make sure he followed protocol without any errors, though he was a stickler for obeying the rules anyway. This time, however, important people would be watching him. Not a team, him. If he screwed up, it’d be his ass. But if he showed them how diligent and methodical he could be then maybe …”
“You do this assignment without fail, you’ll be going places, Burrell. Fast,” Burge said aloud what his thought refused to finish in silence. Could a babysitting job really propel his military career more so than actual battles he’d fought? He didn’t know, but from the sound to if, it couldn’t hurt.
Unless he screwed this up somehow.
No way was Owen going to let that happen.
“To be clear, you’re protection. Period. I don’t want your name anywhere in her reports. You are not cleared to answer questions about the mission in the Achin District prior to the strike. The fact that you’ve recently been to the area was a determining factor in selecting you, but that doesn’t mean the military is giving her free access to sensitive intel. Understood?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” he said with more conviction than before.
Keep my eyes open and mouth shut. He had a job to do, not that he had a choice. Owen had to take the assignment whether he liked it or not, but at least there could be something in it for him in the end, and he had no problem keeping his personal knowledge to himself. Secrecy was par for the course in special operations, anyway.
He had a lot of questions running through his head, but he wouldn’t waste the Major General’s time. As soon as he got back, he’d power up his CO’s laptop and get those answers, starting with the most important question running loose in his mind.
Just who was Caitlin Cooper, and why was this journalist so important that the Lieutenant General had been made aware of her arrival?