MAC WALKER'S BENGHAZI: The Complete Collection (3 page)

“I apologize for the scarcity of furnishing Mr. Walker. As I said, I don’t spend much time here, and don’t feel the need to make it more comfortable. This apartment has been in my family since the buildings’ construction some years ago. Please, have a seat while Nigel warms up the meal.

Nigel was already removing plates of prepared food from the kitchen’s refrigerator and placing them in the microwave as Dasha sat on the couch. Mac was already sitting in the accompanying chair.

“Nigel prepares my meals each morning. All they require is a bit of warming up. He is an incredible cook – spoils me terribly. We’re not here to talk of food though, are we Mr. Walker? I have a job needing your particular skills, and very much hope you will accept the assignment. Can I count on you to do so Mr. Walker?”

Mac could smell the food Nigel was warming up in the kitchen and realized he hadn’t eaten in several hours. He was hungry.

“How about I get some food in me first and we talk after that?”

Mac found Dasha’s frown to be as beautiful as her smile.

“I do hope you don’t intend to dine and dash on me Mr. Walker.”

Dasha rose from her seat while speaking to Nigel.

“We’ll take our meal in my bedroom Nigel. Thank you.”

Nigel simply nodded his head as he began plating the just warmed food. Mac in turn found himself following Dasha down the hallway, wondering to himself how much more the beautiful woman was willing to pay to secure his services for the mission.

Unlike the main living area of the apartment, Dasha’s bedroom was a full on display of luxury and wealth. From the massive and ornate dark leather bound Armani king sized bedframe and matching chairs, the handcrafted dark stone fireplace, to the incredibly intricate and colorful oriental carpet, the room represented no pretense, but rather real and significant financial means.

Another door opened onto a private balcony, similar to that offered in the main room but smaller. Dasha opened that door and stepped outside, the still warm and humid summer evening air quickly filling the air conditioned room.

“This is my favorite part of the residence Mr. Walker. I can just make out the Georgetown Cathedral from here, and the river’s waters below look so dark and mysterious.”

Mac remained inside the bedroom, just outside the balcony area where Dasha stood leaning against the railing as Nigel entered the room and placed two plates of food and two glasses of water atop a small dark, solid wood trestle table and matching chairs that sat directly in front of the fireplace.

Dasha had already re-entered the room, though she left the door to the balcony open.

“Thank you Nigel. Please close the door behind you. I won’t be needing you anymore this evening.”

Nigel glanced at Mac briefly before looking back at Dasha and nodding his head. He closed the door behind him as she had requested.

“How long has Nigel been providing your security?”

Dasha sat in one the chairs and began picking at her food – slices of lightly buttered summer squash, roasted tomatoes, and steak tartare with white truffle oil. She paused to consider Mac’s question.

“It’s been almost seven years now. He’s both very good and very loyal. Let’s not spend our time talking of Nigel though Mr. Walker. I need your assurance you intend to accept the assignment in Libya. Please, sit down and eat while we discuss it.”

Mac sat opposite Dasha and inhaled the tartare in one bite, his stomach already growling for more.

“You appear to be rather hungry Mr. Walker.”

Mac nodded as he worked his way through the roasted tomatoes and squash.

Dasha’s eyes twinkled as she looked back at Mac over her water glass while taking a slow drink.

“Would you like some wine Mr. Walker?”

Mac was eyeing the remaining steak tartare on Dasha’s plate.

“Yeah – and you can go ahead and pass that steak over my way too if you ain’t gonna finish it.”

Dasha laughed as she stood up, and Mac found the sound almost as satisfying as the minced and seasoned steak.

“It is so nice to spend time with a man and not another preening politician Mr. Walker. Or worse yet, a babbling bureaucrat from the United Nations!”

With a push of a button, a section of the wall to the right of the fireplace opened up to reveal a fully stocked bar, including several bottles of wine.

“I prefer a nice, deep, red wine at night Mr. Walker. How about you?”

Mac was now scraping the rest of Dasha’s roasted tomatoes onto his plate.

“Sure – pour it and I’ll drink it.”

After opening a bottle of wine, Dasha filled two glasses and moved slowly across the room toward the balcony.

“I’ll be just outside Mr. Walker. Please join me when you’re ready.”

Mac smiled to himself. He had already decided to do the Libya assignment, even if it meant working for some group affiliated with the United Nations. Their money would spend the same as anyone else’s. He was now increasingly certain he’d be working a little late night fun into the deal as well, and judging from the way Dasha had been looking him over, she seemed more than interested in offering as much. When the lights went out, we all wanted company – rich or poor, it didn’t matter.

The fact she was also incredibly attractive made it all the better…

IV.

Mac woke to find Dasha already in the bathroom and Nigel putting breakfast on the same small table in front of the bedroom fireplace he had served dinner at the night before. Glancing at his Resco Patriot watch, Mac saw it was just past 0700.

“Good morning Mr. Walker. I assume you have accepted the assignment then?”

Nigel’s demeanor suggested minor annoyance at finding Mac waking up in Dasha’s bed.

Mac put his hands behind his head and smiled back at Nigel.

“Probably. Gonna wait and see what kind of breakfast you serve up. Could be the deal maker or deal breaker right there.”

Nigel tipped his head down slightly to the left and then exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Mac rose from the bed and walked unclothed to the table of food. Each plate had a small serving of fresh fruit, two pieces of lightly buttered wheat toast, and a dollop of yogurt. Two cups of dark, freshly brewed coffee and two glasses of orange juice had also been placed alongside the plates.

Mac picked up a cup of coffee and took a slow sip, relishing the rich quality of the brew. Behind him he heard Dasha approaching from the bathroom and turned around to greet her with a smile. She seemed unfazed by his lack of clothing, though she had wrapped herself in a very comfortably looking cream colored cotton robe.

“I see you’ve already discovered Nigel’s coffee. There’s all the essentials you will need in the bathroom Mac, including a toothbrush, soap, hair products, and the like. Please take your time. When you are in the shower I can have staff clean and press your clothes and they will be done by the time you’re ready.”

Mac grabbed a piece of toast and made quick work of it, washing it down with another gulp of coffee.

“No thank you on the clothes. I’ll just brush my teeth, get dressed, and be on my way Dasha. I’ll take the assignment. Have to get a hold of my crew and go over the details with them, and then give final confirmation to Tilley. He handles all the transport and related items. We can be operational within twenty four hours.”

Dasha appeared pleased by Mac’s acceptance, smiling slightly as she walked toward him.

“That is very good to hear Mr. Walker. Very good indeed. I am pleased to see our time together last night did not…lessen your enthusiasm for the mission.”

Mac felt familiar stirrings, and knew if he didn’t get moving, he would likely be spending another hour inside of Dasha’s room. Looking again at his watch, he quickly decided he had another hour to spare and ran toward the large bed, jumping back into its covers. Mac looked back at Dasha as he leaned across the bed, his hand patting the space next to him.

“Might need just a little more convincing. That is, as long our time together last night didn’t lessen your enthusiasm for me.”

Dasha’s eyes devoured Mac hungrily, as her robe fell to the floor.

“Not at all Mr. Walker. Not at all…”

Mac’s estimate of time turned out to be somewhat off – he didn’t leave Sasha’s bedroom for nearly ninety minutes.

Nigel drove him back to what was a common meeting place for Mac and his crew – the Hillside Pub, a small bar owned by a former Marine Mac had served with years ago. His name was Carlos Diaz. Born to Mexican immigrant parents, Diaz had been a good soldier, and remained an even better man. Mac trusted him with his life.

Mac had already called ahead that morning to let Diaz know he would be using the private back room of the bar for a meeting. As always, Carlos said it was no problem – the room was theirs and nobody would bother them.

“Nice to see you Mac. Hope things are well.”

Diaz shook Mac’s hand warmly. He was just over forty years old, a few inches shorter than Mac’s six foot height, with a slight paunch that had developed in recent years. Carlos was a perpetually grateful man – grateful for being born in America, grateful for the life the military afforded him, and now most of all, grateful to be happily married with two beautiful and healthy daughters and providing for them with his own business.

“Sorry it’s a bit early Carlos – hope I’m not putting you out.”

Carlos waived away Mac’s concerns and guided him past the few booths and bar stools of the pub’s main room toward a hallway at the back where the private room was located.

“Not at all Mac. You know that – welcome to use my place anytime.”

The small room was low ceilinged and had a narrow oak table that ran down the room’s center that offered enough room for four chairs on each side of the table. There were no windows. Lighting came from a floor lamp that had been placed in the right corner which Carlos left on 24/7.

Mac thanked Carlos as the he closed the door and then sat down at the table to begin making his calls to his crew. Within a few minutes, all of them had been contacted and were on their way to Mac’s location. They knew the drill – when an assignment came in, they were to drop everything and respond immediately.

Jack Thompson was the first to arrive. The tallest of Mac’s crew, with a blonde haired crew cut and square jaw, Jack had been born and raised in Alabama. He had been a high school football standout, but a knee injury turned away the college recruits and Jack enlisted in the military a few months after graduation. He was now forty two years old, having worked military contracts with Mac for the last seven years. His brother James was Secret Service – did the presidential detail for Obama during the first term before being suddenly reassigned to a hole in the wall post in North Dakota of all places. In recent years, Jack had grown increasingly agitated over the direction of the American government, and would take any opportunity to share those views with others. Despite the occasional annoyance of that sharing, he remained a very capable soldier, and most important, was someone who kept his wits about him when the shit hit the fan.

Mac rose from his seat to shake Jack’s hand, then motioned for the big man to sit down. Jack already knew Mac wouldn’t go into the details until the rest of them had arrived, so he simply sat there silently.

Jay Minnick was the next to enter the small room. Minnick was the shortest of the four men that made up Mac’s team. He wore steel rimmed glasses that, along with his neatly trimmed brown hair, gave his face the appearance of an accountant, though anyone who saw Minnick shoot a rifle would soon realize the kinds of numbers Minnick was primarily involved with were kill shots. Mac was a very capable shooter himself, but Minnick was something special – the most accurate sniper Mac had ever seen. The fact Minnick was also tech savvy made him that much more valuable to the team. It was Minnick who helped deliver Mac’s first assignments – his father was a former Congressman with long standing ties to high ranking military contacts.

The last to arrive, as usual, was Benjamin Williams, known by everyone as Benny. Benny came in as he always did, with a wide smile and a hug for Mac. The man was perpetually happy. He came from upstate New York, the youngest son of a longtime military family. One of his grandfathers had been one of the Tuskegee Airmen, the first African American military pilots who had fought so valiantly during World War II. Now in his mid-forties, Benny would likely still be in the military if not for an incident involving a superior officer and a bar fight. The officer was noted for being a mean drunk, and for whatever reason, on that night he took it upon himself to harass Benny and a group of enlisted men who were sitting at a table enjoying several rounds of drinks and jokes. Benny allowed the officer to hit him twice before he hit back. Likely unknown to that officer, Benjamin Williams was among the most highly trained hand to hand combat members within the entire United States military. He was obsessed with his martial arts training, and was the one member of the team Mac would not want to tangle with personally in a one on one fight. That officer was literally scraped off the floor of the bar, and three days later, Benny faced a court martial, learning then that the officer’s father was a retired three star general who had made some calls and wanted “That Black boy who kicked the shit out of my son to be finished.” That led Benny to eventually meet up with Mac, and he had been perhaps the single most dedicated member of the team besides Mac himself, for the last six years. Benny was also the only one of the four of them who was married and a father.