enemies of the state (32 page)

“Ethan?” Carefully, Collard rolled him over, cradling his head. Ethan’s T-shirt was ruined, bloodstained and torn to shreds. His body was a mess of bruises, and dried blood coated his face.

Ethan’s battered face stared up at Collard through slitted eyes. He blinked, and then turned his head away and grimaced.

Relief flooded through Collard. “He’s alive!” For now, at least. Grunting, Collard hefted Ethan over his shoulder, carrying him on his back. Ethan grunted and whined, whimpering as he was jostled and moved.

Cooper was already on the radio. “Ballroom, this is Black Knight 6. We are go for extract.”

All the way from the halls of the Pentagon, General Madigan’s crotchety voice broke over the radio. “Outstanding,” he grunted. “Two helos inbound from station in three mikes.”

Cooper rounded up the men, sent them out of the room, and then ordered the other team to clear and blow the second tunnel. Moments later, booms echoed through the bunker, and dust fell from the ceiling. Grenades going off from the other team. Collard hitched Ethan higher on his shoulders and followed behind Cooper, heading for the bunker’s exit.

By the time they filed out of the bunker, two black dots on the horizon were drawing close, and Collard could just make out the faint whirring of rotors.

“Ballroom, Black Knight 6. Be advised, orange smoke is friendly.” Cooper popped a canister of orange smoke from his pack and threw it in front of the bunker, signaling to the chopper pilots.

“Ballroom acknowledges,” Madigan grunted.

Then there was a smear, an electric whine and a screech that had everyone reaching for their earpieces and ripping them out, cursing. Cooper jammed his back in and reset his radio. “Ballroom, come in. Ballroom, come in.”

* * * * *

Onboard the choppers, General Madigan’s voice spoke directly to the pilots on a secure line from the Pentagon. “Those sons of bitches took out our entire team. I want you to light up that bunker, and any human being you see on the ground. Don’t you dare leave until that bunker is gone and every living soul in that AO is dead. The ‘hajis have stolen one of our guy’s smoke grenades. Don’t be fooled by the smoke.”

“Yes, sir.”

Unawares, the copper pilots zeroed in on the men standing outside the bunker.

* * * * *

Onboard the
Arleigh Burke
, Jack watched from the perspective of a drone just coming online, hovering above the bunker and the battlespace. He saw black silhouettes crawling out of the bunker.

“Are those our men?” he asked. He turned to Commander Conrad, looking for information.

Conrad frowned and turned to Directors Irwin and Luntz. “I’m not sure. The vantage here is pretty high up. I can’t get detail.” Director Luntz grunted, peering at the screen.

General Madigan’s voice broke through over the speakerphone on the conference table. “Mr. President, we’re having communication difficulties with our team right now. We’re not sure who those men on the ground are. There were reports of shots fired and some grenades before everything went dark. Those could be fighters waiting to attack our choppers. But our helo pilots will vector in close.”

Jack nodded, even though Madigan couldn’t see him. He clasped his hands in front of his face and rested his forehead on his knuckles.
Please, Ethan, please come home to me. Please.

* * * * *

“Ballroom, come in. Ballroom, come in.” Cooper frowned and cycled through the radio again.

“Sir…” One of Cooper’s men rose from his kneel. “Those helos aren’t slowing down, sir.”

Cooper looked up. “They’re coming in at attack speed,” he shouted. He grabbed his radio, trying to broadcast on a shortwave frequency to reach the pilots directly. “Chopper pilots, this is ground team! We are friendly, over! Do not attack! Orange smoke is friendly!”

Bullets roared out of the chopper’s gun batteries, chewing up the hard-packed earth in front of the team. Cursing, Collard dove sideways, rolling with Ethan away from the path of the bullets. One of Cooper’s men screamed.

“Jesus!” Cooper scrambled in the dirt, waving at the helo pilots, though they stayed out of visual range. “We’re on your fucking side!”

The second chopper joined the first, spitting out bullets and striking a second member of the team.

“Get back in the bunker!” Cooper hollered. “Move, now, now!”

Collard grabbed Ethan, threw him over his shoulder again, and then tore off toward the bunker’s entrance. Bullets chased his feet, bounced off stones and clipped the pack on his back. He dove for the darkened entrance, landing in a heap on top of two of Cooper’s teammates.

“Move, move!” Cooper shouted running into the tunnel after the remnants of his team had made it inside. “Go deeper!”

Above, the mechanical whir of the helos loading their rockets chilled Collard’s blood. Scrambling, he grabbed Ethan under his arms and dragged his friend, until one of Cooper’s men hefted Ethan’s ankles and they ran down the dark tunnel together.

“Go, go!” Cooper shouted. “Deeper! If they fire that rocket, this whole bunker could—”

His words were cut off by the roaring of the tunnel as it collapsed. The sounds of exploding stone mixed with the rage of flames from the rocket’s impact, overpowering everyone’s screams.

* * * * *

“No!” Jack leapt from his seat as the bunker exploded in a blinding flash of light, whiting out the monitor. “What happened? Where is our team?”

“Mr. President,” Madigan said gruffly, sorrow lining his words. “Our chopper pilots reported that the men on the ground were jihadist fighters impersonating our men. They took fire and had to respond.”

Jack’s eyes darted around the room. Panic crested in his chest, breaking on the fracture of his heart. “No,” he whispered. “Where is our team? Where is our team? Agent Collard? Agent Reichenb—” He couldn’t say Ethan’s name. His voice choked off as his throat closed, and he fell forward, barely catching himself on the edge of the table. “Where is our team?” he shouted.

“Mr. President…” Madigan’s voice faded away. Commander Conrad looked down. “Our team was eliminated. They’re gone, sir.”

Jack shook his head, over and over, and he backed away from the table. His breaths came too fast as he stared at the screen, at the destroyed bunker burning and lying in rubble. They were supposed to rescue Ethan, bring him back to Jack. He was supposed to meet Ethan on the flight deck, wounded but alive, and he’d kiss him in front of everyone. He didn’t care, not anymore, about secrecy or hiding or keeping their love a secret. He loved Ethan, and he wanted the world to know it, and damn the consequences.

But Ethan wasn’t coming home.

He wasn’t flying back to Jack, and Jack wouldn’t ever be able to tell him that he loved him.

Roaring, Jack flung his conference chair sideways, sending it slamming into the
Arleigh Burke’s
bulkhead. Sobs crashed through him, waves of anguish breaking against his soul. His heart, so recently made whole again, cracked, revealing his tender love for Ethan hidden deep within. Why hadn’t he said something? Why hadn’t he told Ethan?

He’d never get the chance.

Gasping, Jack tried to stand, but the world spun, and he fell backward, stumbling. Strong hands grabbed him, steadying his waist and keeping him on his feet, and then arms wrapped around him from behind. “Jack,” a voice in his ear mumbled. “Jack.”

The hands spun Jack around, and he came face-to-face with Gottschalk. There was a sheen to Gottschalk’s eyes, wet and weary, and he wrapped Jack up in his arms and drew him close. “Jack,” Gottschalk whispered again, sighing.

Jack let it all out, then, falling into Gottschalk’s arms while his sobs tore through him. He grabbed his chief of staff, wrapping him up in a furious grapple, and clung tight. In Gottschalk’s arms, Jack shuddered, trembling and quaking as his worst fears, fears he’d ignored and pushed away, fears he’d said weren’t ever going to happen, crashed in on every side.

How could this happen to a man twice? He’d buried his wife, and now he had to bury his lover, a man he’d come, almost inexplicably, to love. He’d taken a chance, and he’d found a love that couldn’t be named, that couldn’t be contained, and that had redefined his life in ways he had only just begun to discover.

And now, it was all gone. All of the love. All of the happiness he’d found. All of the joy he’d discovered in Ethan’s arms.

Jack slumped against the bulkhead, still holding on to Gottschalk, and slid to the deck. Gottschalk went with him, never letting go. The others slipped out of the Ward Room, giving the president privacy, but Jack couldn’t care less about privacy. Sobs tore from him, bruising his throat and grinding in his chest. Snot and tears soaked Gottschalk’s shirt.

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to stop crying. He didn’t want to acknowledge that this was real, and he’d have to move forward from this moment. No, not yet. He couldn’t let go yet.

“Ethan,” Jack moaned into Gottschalk’s jacket. “Ethan, I love you.”

* * * * *

General Madigan spoke directly to the chopper pilots again. “You boys did great work. Did you confirm the jihadi’s identities?”

“No, sir. By the time we got in ID range, the bodies outside the bunker were burned up. No positive ID.”

“No worries, boys. You did great work. Come on back to Djibouti.”

Madigan clicked the radio off and picked up his phone.

* * * * *

“Everyone okay?” Cooper’s voice, choked with dust, broke through the gloom of the collapsed tunnel. “Sound off!”

Collard coughed, trying to breathe. Something was on top of him, crushing his ribs. He shoved in the darkness, and someone grunted.
Jesus, Ethan.
“Ethan? You still with us?”

Groaning answered him, and a wheeze.

“L-T, we’ve got to move.” Collard shifted, moving into a crouch over Ethan’s prone body. “He’s hurt bad.”

“We can’t move yet.” Cooper spoke through the darkness. “We’re penned in here. We’ve got to dig out. And I can’t raise anyone on the radio.”

“Forget the radio.” Collard threw his mic and earpiece across the crumbled tunnel. “We were targeted by those helos. Someone sent them to take us out.”

Cooper’s silence hung in the dark tunnel.

“We need a new plan,” Collard grunted. “We need to know what’s going on.”

Chapter Fourteen

President to Address Nation & World from USS Truman

The president is set to make a major address following the attack on him and his motorcade in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, from the carrier deck of the USS Truman, stationed in the Mediterranean Sea. Since the attack, the administration has come under bitter criticism, with many in Washington saying that the president should never have made the trip in the first place. Unconnected with the attacks in Ethiopia, two helicopters from the Camp Lemonier, the US Naval Expeditionary base in Djibouti crashed while on a training mission on the border of Ethiopia and Djibouti. Both pilots are confirmed dead.

* * * * *

“My fellow Americans…” Jack licked his lips, the familiar words of the opening to the presidential address falling from his lips. Across the flight deck of the
USS Truman
, sailors stood at attention, and a press team filmed his every word. He wasn’t standing at a podium. He was just himself. Just Jack.

A sob almost took him by surprise. “Just Jack” had been what Ethan used to tell him he adored. Not the president. Just Jack.

Clearing his throat, Jack pushed on with his statement. The
Arleigh Burke
didn’t have a teleprompter, so he was winging this one. It didn’t matter. It all came from the heart, from the place where Ethan lived inside him.

All of this is for you.

“My fellow Americans and citizens of the world,” Jack continued. His voice caught on the words, and he cleared his throat again. “Today, there was an attack on the presidential motorcade en route to the Assembly of the African Union leaders’ meeting to address the situation in Nairobi. Ethiopia lost their Federal Police Commissioner and the General of the National Defense Forces. We join them today in mourning.

“Americans also grieve today, and no one more than myself.” Jack’s voice wavered. He inhaled quickly. Held his breath. “Today, America lost true heroes. Men who gave their all. Today, Special Agents Scott Collard and Ethan Reichenbach gave their lives in order to secure my own.” Jack looked right, off the flight deck, and into the horizon. He blinked fast, not caring about the news camera. “Also lost were a United States Marine Corps Raider team. To these men, and to their families, I owe you my life and my gratitude.

“But gratitude cannot bring back these men.” Jack bit his lip, forcing the tears to stay back. “Gratitude cannot save lives going forward. Gratitude is an empty, cold comfort to those left behind.”

He thought he could do this, but standing there, trying to pretend that he wasn’t one of those left behind, one of those lost and mourning and clinging to empty words, was slicing the remnants of his soul in two.
Ethan…I do this for you.
He kept repeating his words, imagining Ethan’s smile as he stared at the rivets in the deck and gathered his strength again.

“Today, I come to you not with cold comfort, but with action.” Jack’s chin lifted.
Ethan…
“I come to you with a promise. A vow. I will not allow another American, or any human being, to be taken from this earth because of terror, fear, and oppression. I will stand up to those who sow terror and who fight against freedom. I will no longer let excuses stand in the way of doing what is right. Today, I call on my fellow world leaders to join me in taking a direct stand against the Islamic Caliphate. We will not stand idly by in the world while nuclear bombs are detonated in cities, and the best of our people are ripped from our lives. These acts are acts of war made by desperate terrorists bent on destroying people’s lives.”

Jack looked directly into the camera. “I am, today, promising that America will respond. We are coming for you. We are coming to free those who you have enslaved. Rescue those who you have harmed. Restore what you have destroyed. We are coming on the ground, over the sea, and from the skies. We will eliminate you, and any enemy of the human race who allies with you, from the face of the earth.