Date: Wed, 13 Jun 2012 05:00:39 -0700
From: Micheal Mikey <michealwitluv@gmail.com>
Subject: The Game He Lost 14

The Complication

     It was all or nothing. They would get one shot at this, so there was
no room for error. Finn slung his gun over his shoulder and fitted his
night-vision goggles in place. The helicopter dipped as the pilot fought a
sudden downdraft. Finn slid to the open doorway, grabbed a support bar and
swung his feet to the landing strut. The other men did the same,
positioning themselves three on each side of the chopper. Lighting flashed,
illuminating the rooftop of the Baltimore butcher shop that was surging
upward to meet them.

     "Group in position." It was Esposito's voice, coming through the
radio. He was leading the squad that had surrounded Boko Haram base and
would cut off the escape on the ground. "Group two, what's your ETA?"

     "Ten seconds," Rafe replied.

     The helicopter pulled up in a stomach-wrenching turn and hovered a
yard above the rooftop. As one, the men leaped from the landing struts to
the roof and linked their arms in a circle to fight the backwash from the
rotors. The chopper sprang upward, the noise of its engine blending with a
rumble of thunder as it disappeared into the rain.

     The storm had made for a bumpy ride, but it had hidden their
arrival. Few people would be on the street in weather like this. Just in
case, Ghost had asked the Pentagon brass to inform the local authorities
there would be an army training op in the area. If some concerned citizen
did spot them and called the cops, there probably wouldn't be any trouble.

     Probably. That wasn't good enough. Damn, that just wasn't good enough.

     Rafe thumped his shoulders and made a quick hand signal to indicate he
should move into position.

     Finn took the rope from his belt and jogged to the edge of the
roof. All around him the other men were shadows against shadows etched in
night-vision green. Less than half a minute later, the team was in place
and ready to move. Finn checked his watch. Two minutes to midnight.

     "What's happening at the drop, Commander?" Esposito asked.

     Ghost's voice was tight. "Mr. Locke is closing in on the
monument. Just starting up the rise."

     Finn secured one end of the rope to the base of a ventilation shaft
and pulled on his gloves. He shouldn't have been here. He should have been
with Abe; and he would have been if he had done what Ghost had trusted him
to do, and kept his distance.

     From a strategic standpoint, Ghost had made the right decision by
assigning Finn to the assault team. If Finn had been anywhere near Abe
right now, he would have gotten him out of there even if it meant he would
have to throw him over his shoulder kicking and screaming, just as he had
done a week ago; but that would have jeopardized the mission and his
teammates' lives. Success depended on secrecy and split second timing.

     "Watch him, sir," Finn said.

     "He's in full view of my position," Ghost replied.

     "He feels very strongly about doing the drop right," Finn said. "He
may disobey instructions and put himself at risk."

     "I'll be picking him up as soon as the pack drops, Braveheart." It was
Sandra's voice. "I'll give the signal the instant he is in the van."

     Finn looped his rope behind his back, lay on his belly at the edge of
the roof and inched his way over the lip. Lightning flickered over the
window he would crash through when the raid commenced. They would hit hard
and fast. He readied his gun, but he knew the element of surprise was their
best weapon. "Please, Abe," he breathed. "Keep safe."

     Silence hummed in his ear.

     "He's not patched in to this frequency, Finn," Sandra said. "But I'm
sure he sends you the same sentiment."

~~~~~~~~~~

     Despite the men from the Nighthawks who circled the area, Abe had
never felt more alone in his life. Sheets of rain were obscuring the
sidewalk under his feet. Trees flickered ghostly white at the base of the
rise in each flash of lighting. The floodlit granite column of the
Washington Monument soared into the gloom in front of him, wavering like a
mirage.

     The receiver in his ear clicked. "Almost there, Abe," Sandra
said. "You are doing fine."

     That was why he felt alone, Abe though. The team had divided. He
couldn't hear Finn. For almost a week, he hadn't been apart from Finn for
more than a few minutes. He needed him. He loved him. He couldn't imagine a
future without him; and in two minutes his place in Finn's life would be
over.

     "Abe?"

     He held the umbrella handle to his chest, fighting to keep it pointed
against the wind. "Okay."

     "You are in position," Ghost said. "Drop the pack."

     He shifted the umbrella from one hand to the other and shrugged the
straps of the backpack over his shoulders. It fell to the ground with a
splash. He stopped to look at it. "There's a puddle here. The money will
get wet."

     "It will dry," Ghost said. "Turn and retrace your steps."

     Abe glanced around. Apart from the swaying trees, nothing was
moving. Under other circumstances he might have been nervous about being
out here on his own at this hour, but the storm was keeping even the
muggers indoors. What about Boko Haram? Where were they? What if there was
some bystander near here, after all, and they picked up this pack before
Boko Haram could reach it?

     "Mr. Locke!"

     The commander's voice was more like a bark. Abe jumped and started
walking.

     Headlight's winked on. "I'm driving along the pedestrian walkway to
meet you, Abe," Sandra said. "You should see my lights on your right."

     "Yes, I see you. Are Boko Haram coming yet?"

     "That doesn't concern you, Abe," Ghost said. "Just keep moving."

     It could have been because he was wet, scared and alone, or it could
have been because Ghost was the one who had sent Finn away. Whatever the
reason, Abe felt his temper stir. "I don't want to leave it to chance this
time. If you don't answer, I'll go back and see for myself that they get
the money, Sir."

     There was a brief silence. When Ghost's voice came through Abe's ear
piece, it could have cut glass. "A black sedan has crashed through the
barriers at the parking area and is cutting across the Mall to your left,
at approximately thirty miles an hour. Boko Haram doesn't appear to be
leaving it to chance this time, either. Now I suggest you pick up your pace
so we can get on with our job."

     Abe glanced to his left. He hadn't heard anything because of the
storm, but he could see headlights tunneling through the rain and the
bushes on the far side of the Reflecting Pool. He tossed his umbrella aside
and sprinted for Sandra's van.

     Sandra flung open the passenger door. The instant Abe climbed inside,
Sandra reached behind him to flip a toggle on her radio equipment. "I have
him," she announced. She spun the wheel and headed away from the
monument. "Green light. The raid is a go."

     Abe crawled between the seats to sit at the console behind
Sandra. "What button do I push?" he asked. "I want to hear everything."

     Sandra slowed as they reached the cover of some trees. She engaged the
brake and let the engine idle as she turned back to the communication
console. "The frequency is already set. All you need to do is switch it to
speaker." She pointed. "That's the square button on the lower right."

     Voices flooded the van. Abe struggled to take in the terse
reports. The other teams moved in on their targets. They met no resistance
as they hit the three rooming houses. The base was different. Esposito
reported gunfire. The team's weapons were fitted with sound suppressors –
any gunfire would have to be from Boko Haram.

     "The ransom has been picked up," Ghost said. "Keep your distance,
people, until we can determine the location of the hostage."

     Abe moved to the rear of the van. Through the rain streaked window in
the door he could see twin spots of light at the base of the monument. A
black sedan was parked where he had dropped the backpack.

     Rafe's voice suddenly came through the speaker. "Operation
successful. Base is secured."

     "Any causalities?" Ghost asked.

     "Negative. We found their files. Stand by."

     Abe knelt on the floor and dropped his forehead against the back door,
whispering a prayer of thanks. No casualties. Finn was unhurt. The men were
going through the Boko Haram files. They would find Matthew. Thank God,
thank God.

     "The water must have shorted the electronics in the pack," Sandra
said. "We are not getting any audio." She turned the van around. "I need to
get the directional mike on that car and hear what's going on. I wouldn't
have expected Boko Haram to remain here once they had the money."

     Abe turned to the front of the van and slid into the passenger
seat. He braced his hands on the dashboard, peering through the windshield
as Sandra nosed the vehicle forward. The black sedan hadn't moved.

     "I found what looks like a press release," Rafe said. "It is in
English, spouting off a bunch of anti democratic rhetoric. Sir, this
doesn't make sense."

     "Report, Sergeant," Ghost said.

     "Boko Haram are claiming responsibility for the murder of Matthew Ibru
at the Air and Space Museum."

     "Say again."

     Rafe repeated his statement and added, "It's dated last Thursday."

     "Here's another one." It was Finn's voice this time. "Dated
Sunday. Claiming responsibility for the Ibru boy's death at the Lincoln
Memorial."

     Abe was so relieved to hear Finn's voice it took him a moment to grasp
what he was saying. Boko Haram had prepared press releases. They had
planned to kill Matthew in public at the site of the ransom drops. On
Thursday. And again on Sunday.

     Why hadn't they done it?

     Why? Because he had messed up the drop both times.

     "Oh, my God," Abe whispered, his heart tightening. He focused on the
lights from the black car. It still wasn't moving. This time the ransom had
been delivered successfully. He hadn't messed it up. That meant this
time... "Oh, my God! Matthew had to be here. He's here! And they are going
to kill him!"

     "Call down the chopper!" Finn said. "We'll meet it on the roof."

     "All units move in!" Ghost ordered. "Contain the black sedan."

     Sandra slammed the van into gear, carving grooves in the grass as she
steered back toward the glowing obelisk. She pulled a pistol from her
waistband and lowered her window. "Abe, get down on the floor!"

     Abe stayed where he was, his fingers cramping on the dashboard. The
parabolic microphone Sandra had placed beside him was picking up
voices. Foreign voices. Men's voices. But in the background, as faint as
the whisper of the constellations behind the clouds, he heard a child's
sob.

     "I can confirm the hostage is in the sedan," Sandra shouted. "Hold
your fire!"

     "Shoot to disable the vehicle," Ghost countered. "Do not permit them
to escape."

     The monument loomed closer. The headlights of the black car glowed
through the rain. More headlights appeared, converging on the rise from all
directions. The view kept appearing and disappearing as the wipes cleared
the windshield. One second the car was there, the next it was gone.

     "Boko Haram are on the move," Ghost said. "They are heading straight
for you, Captain."

     Approaching lights speared through the van's windshield, turning it to
molten white. There was a sharp crack. Sandra cried out and the van
swerved. The white became a web of crystal shards.

     "Captain Fox?" Ghost called.

     "I've been hit, sir."

     The scene became another one of those slow motion nightmares. Abe
looked at the cracked windshield, and then at the hole in Sandra's
jacket. It was a bullet hole. Sandra had been shot. And if Boko Haram got
past them, they were going to escape with Matthew.

     Abe didn't have time for the terror that screamed inside him. He
crawled over Sandra, grabbed the wheel and jammed the accelerator to the
floor. He might not know how to fire a gun, but he knew how to drive.

     He aimed at the black sedan. The van flew over a bump, hit the ground
hard and skidded sideways directly into the path of the oncoming vehicle.

     The impact spun the van around and knocked the door open, propelling
Abe through the air. He curled himself into a ball, skidding across the wet
grass as he landed. Pain knifed through his wrist. He lifted his head.

     And stared straight into the barrel of a gun.



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