The man glared at the drunken idiot passed out on the porch. The men were not allowed any mind altering substance and that included alcohol. Pulling his pistol from his waistband, he pressed the silencer fitted barrel to the man's head and pulled the trigger. He wasn't happy about this. Amir should have a tighter fist on his men.

Now they would need another driver.

8 days

Bravo stood in the cramped room, elbow to elbow along with the twelve members of the support team. Eyes were glued to the computer screens showing movement on the ground as glowing red and green shapes thanks to the three drones carrying thermal imaging cameras flying silently over the compound nestled in the hills of upper Iraq.

"Two minutes until breach," one of the men manning the console murmured.

Hick pressed in closer, leaning on the table strewn with maps, half-empty cups of horrible coffee and other instruments used to plan this attack. Rarely had he been on this side of an Op, watching as another team took out a target. He thought there would be more noise. Instead, the only sound in the room was the click of the keyboards and the soft hum of the two Black Hawks standing at ready on the pad outside.

Drakker, the man in charge of the team, lifted his fist, causing the others to stop instantly. He made a motion, and two of the team broke off from the others. He knew those were the snipers who would provide cover when needed.

"That'll be Diablo and Tig going to nest," Railroad whispered in confirmation.

"It's too quiet," Dude muttered. "Where are the tangos?"

"Four sentries on the corners," Railroad answered. "If Fedora is there, then there should be a lot more than that."

A general mumble rolled through the room as others agreed.

The team executed their roles as a well-oiled machine. Hick lifted his gaze to another computer screen with boxes containing the live feed from the tiny cameras mounted on each SEALs shoulder. The view was vivid green courtesy of the NVG units. He followed the action as Druid shadowed Drakker to the entry point designated in the plans.

On another screen, Lincoln pressed himself against a wall as Mastiff slid around and slapped a line of explosives to the door leading into the compound. Quietly they withdrew.

"Eyes on tango," whispered Diablo.

"Eyes on tango," replied Tig.

Hick's gaze returned to the larger picture provided by the satellite orbiting overhead. The picture was grainy thanks to the low light source, but it showed the four sentries on the compound's corner continued to pace slowly; their bodies were a bright white against the gray of their surroundings. He shook his head. Something was wrong; he felt it all the way down to his bones.

"What are we missing?" Wolf's brow wrinkled as he studied the scene. Beside him, Bruiser glared as well. Their unease was contagious, spreading to the rest of the combined team.

"Alpha, you are at a go," the mission coordinator spoke into his coms.

The breath in Hick's lungs froze. There was a flash of an explosion as the wall was breached. Overhead, the four sentries dropped two at a time as the snipers took them out. On the ground, the ten remaining members of Alpha poured through the hole and into the compound.

The view from the mini cams jostled as the SEALs made their way down a hallway and deeper into the building. At the end of the hall, a room opened up with several doors leading out. With a few quick signals, the team spread out into three teams with each taking a different exit.

Hick's eyes flew over the screen, watching the teams as they worked their way deeper into the structure.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Nothing?" Cookie pressed his knuckles into the table as he leaned over it. "This makes no sense. Where is everyone?"

"Maybe they got spooked," Finch muttered.

"Alpha, we're sending in Fritz. Regroup in the main chamber."

"Roger, command."

Fritz, an eighty pound German Shepherd, walked alongside his handler, Diesel through the breach and down the hallway. Like the rest of the team, he had a micro camera as well, securely mounted on the side of his collar.

Diesel removed the leash from Fritz's collar and gave him the command to hunt. At once, Alpha pressed themselves back to the walls to give the dog room to work.

The view was dizzying as the dog ran down one corridor, taking time to smell along the way. With a sneeze, he whirled around and returned to the main room. When he reached the end of the second tunnel, he stopped, sat and stared at the wall.

"Command, we have a positive for a hidden room at the end of two."

Diesel hurried to the end of the tunnel, clasped the leash back on the dog and led him out. As before, Mastiff slapped a line of explosives to the wall and retreated. From his camera, Bravo witnessed the wall explode into a pile of rubble.

"Why have three hallways that dead end with only one room?"

"Maybe they are trying to throw us off?"

Toad shook his head. "I don't like this. Every hair on my neck is sticking straight out."

Two SEALs entered the room carefully.

"Clear."

Their search was interrupted by a yell. "TANGO TANGO TANGO," Tig's voice filled the com channel.

"INCOMING," Diablo's voice echoed.

The shout from the two snipers was loud in the room. Hick whipped his head back around to the satellite and widened his eyes in shock. All around the compound, unfriendlies materialized out of nowhere like ghosts.

"Sons of bitches dug in with thermo-covers so we couldn't see them," hissed the console operator.

"It's a trap!" Bruiser slammed his fist on the table. "Bastards laid a trap."

"Alpha, you have over twenty tangos coming in hard."

"Diablo's down." They could hear the staccato of gunfire with each gasped yell.

"Damn!" Abe growled.

"We're surrounded! They're coming out of the walls!" Drakker shouted. "There are tunnels everywhere!"

"Bravo!" the mission commander roared. "You're up!"

F-bombs filled the room as Bravo scrambled for their gear. The mission had turned into a Charlie Foxtrot of epic proportions. As Hick ran to the Black Hawk and jumped in, he hoped they would get there in time to save their friends. They were only six minutes by air from the compound, but at the rate, things had soured during the mission, that may be six minutes Alpha didn't have.

 

 

Annabeth's reading glasses made a soft thump as they landed on top of the thick piles of papers scattered across the oak desktop. Peering across the expanse, she glared at the smug grin on her client's face.

"Andrew, be reasonable. This contract for The Obsession of Veed is extremely generous. This will be your first movie. They are offering $5,000 option for two years. Most options begin at around $1,000. Remember, it just means they are renting your rights for two years."

"That's two years with no assurance that a movie will be made. And, while they are holding my creativity in their deathly grip, no-one else can pick it up. I don't want 'maybe.' I expect you to do better than a low budget television series. You certainly did much better for Joselyn Chambers."

Annabeth pressed her fingers tightly to the bridge of her nose and silently counted to ten. They had been beating the hell out of this dead horse for hours now. The throbbing pulse behind her eyes intensified every second this arrogant peacock sat in her office. Getting herself under control, she plastered a stiff smile on her lips and tried again.

"As I have mentioned numerous times, Joselyn Chambers's situation is highly unusual. It's not often a first-timer is picked up by a major studio with an option they green light. You also have to remember that your work is in horror where hers is suspense and drama. They are two completely different genres. It's all in what the studios are looking for at any given moment. Look at it this way, every day thousands of books are published. The fact that your book, among all those millions, was chosen for an option is amazing. Many authors would kill to be in your shoes."

Andrew lurched forward and slammed his fist on the desk, missing her glasses by inches. "I am not like those hacks," he snarled in a low voice. "They throw a few words into a file, call it literature and press the self-publish button. To call what they do art is to call a child's crayon work a masterpiece. It's beneath me. I hired you to do a job. You are failing. If you are incapable of fulfilling your part of our agreement, I'll have my lawyer speak to you concerning a breach of contract suit. Perhaps then, you will stop fawning over Joselyn Chambers and represent me as you promised."

"And as I told you if you feel so strongly about my inability to represent you adequately, then exercise your option and find someone who is more suited to your specific requirements." The grin he flashed made her shudder with revulsion. How had she ever thought of him as interesting?

"No, you will get me a better contract, or I'll sue you." As he finished, he spun on his heel and stormed out of her little office, slamming the door behind.

"Lord, save me from fools and pompous, second-rate divas," she mumbled. Crossing her arms over the contract, she laid her head down and closed her eyes. "I know they all can't be like Jos, but could I maybe get a few that are at least somewhat reasonable? This crap is for the birds."

The theme of Murder She Wrote rose from her cell beside. Lifting her head, Annabeth punched the button. "Hey, Jos, I was just thinking about you."

Joselyn's voice was high and breathy. "Annabeth, honey, are you alright?"

Annabeth frowned. "Ye-e-e-s," she drawled slowly. "Shouldn't I be?"

"Oh, God, you haven't seen the news yet, have you?"

A two-ton ball of ice settled into her stomach. "No, what's going on?" She opened her top drawer, searching for the tiny remote for her television sitting in the corner under a layer of dust. The last time it was used was when Elliot had spent a weekend with her several months ago. Her trembling fingers closed around the black rectangle. Drawing it out, she dropped it on the floor. Retrieving it, she felt her pulse racing in her veins.

"Is it Hick? Jos, what happened?"

"That snake in the grass, al-Bashir posted a video a couple of hours ago. In it, he claimed American forces attacked the private residence of one of a distant relative in Iraq killing several unarmed inhabitants. According to him, the family fought back and managed to kill several of the raiders before successfully repelling the rest."

Annabeth smacked the remote against her palm and furiously pressed the button. When it didn't turn the television on, she threw it in frustration, shattering it on the wall. "What else? I know you are hiding something from me."

Joselyn hesitated a few moments. "There were pictures; grainy ones like taken from afar. It showed a soldier slumped on a rooftop. A helicopter is burning on the ground. They claim they killed six and wounded many more."

"Oh my God," Annabeth whispered. The room became bright as if a 1000 watt light bulb suddenly flicked on. "I think I'm going to pass out."

"Put your head down. Try to stay calm. Maddox is on the phone trying to find out anything he can. He said he doubted this was true; it didn't follow what he knew about SEAL missions. Did you hear me, Annabeth? He said he didn't think it was true."

"What if it is?" Annabeth's hands were shaking badly, and goosebumps had broken out all over her body. "Jos, what if he's gone? We just figured out this thing between us. I don't think I can handle it if he's gone."

"Annabeth! Don't kill him off so quickly. Hick and the other guys are all highly trained. Maddox says they have plans on top of plans. He said to try and not worry."

"Let me have the phone." Annabeth heard River's voice in the background. She gripped the chair arms as the sound of the receiver changing hands crackled in the speakers.

"Alright, I spoke to a friend, Tex. He can find out anything about anyone. He confirmed there was a fight and it was bad. I asked him about my team, and he said they are badly battered, but they made it out alright. Hick's alright. Did you hear me Annabeth? Tex says Hick is fine."

Annabeth heard, and the wave of relief that washed over her could drown an elephant. Hick was alright; battered, but alright. She didn't care what battered meant; she was just relieved he was still alive. Putting her head down next to the speaker, she swallowed. "Yeah, I hear you River," she whispered.

"I'm going to call Grace," Joselyn promised.

"No, don't. Kenseth is out of state, and she has Elliot. I'm okay. I'll wait until my nerves calm down then go home. I think I'm done for the day in the office."

"I'll stay on the phone with you."

"No, you go ahead. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

Annabeth thought about the news, the ups and downs of the last few minutes. Nodding absently, she whispered, "Yes, I'm alright. Thank River for checking for me."

"Honey, we wouldn't let you go through this alone. I'll tell him when he gets off the phone. He's calling Olivia to let her know. I'm sure she's going out of her mind worrying as well."

"We need a support group. I don't know how the other wives go through this."

Joselyn's voice turned bitter. "Maddox told me this is unusual. Normally, the guys are home long before any sort of news comes out. This jackass terrorist jerk couldn't wait to spin his propaganda."

"So basically, I won't know he's hurt until he's standing there with blood all over him?"

"Pretty much. At least then you can see with your own eyes that he's alive."

"Okay."

Annabeth stared at the words on Andrew's contract until they blurred and thick tears splattered the type. "I think I'm going to go home now. I'll wait for him to call me while I drown my sorrows in a tub of Death by Chocolate. Maybe whiskey. Hell, I may mix the two. Right now I think I need a dose of both."

"Alright, honey. Call me when you get home so I won't worry too."

"Okay."

When the phone disconnected, Annabeth lowered her head to her arms and let the flood go. Hick was alright. He was alive.