Operation (2 page)

Sincerely,

John Reese

Part I

Chapter One

MacDill Air Force Base-Special Operations Command: SOCOM

O
NE
Y
EAR
B
EFORE
THE
F
ORMATION
OF
T
EAM
OF
D
ARKNESS

“I want them sent here,” General Stone said, without removing his gaze from the report. “See to it immediately.”

Stone was large, in excellent shape for a man of fifty-plus years. His close-cropped gray hair was characteristic of a career soldier, what was called typically the high and tight. His face always appeared unwavering; void of any emotion. His brown eyes, high cheekbones, and square jaw never gave away information about his position on issues. Stone was the officer in command of the United States Special Operating Forces Command, SOCOM, which gave him authority and control over all the Special Forces of the United States military services, and certain projects kept at the highest levels of secrecy. All of this made him one of the most powerful and potentially dangerous men on the face of the Earth.

Stone had just completed reading the latest situational report concerning the mysterious deaths reported from the U.S. peacekeeping forces at Camp Bondsteel in Kosovo. His action on the report completed, he picked up another report and began reading it.

“Sir?” Navy Commander Scott asked.

Scott was Stone’s direct action person for the Kosovo region area of operations. A thin and weasel-like man in his 40s, he had made his way to this prestigious assignment through careful maneuvering of the personnel detailing system rather than by actual accomplishment. He was commonly referred to as the General’s errand boy. Scott was aware of this and it didn’t bother him in the least. He knew that if he survived this tour, he could virtually write his own ticket, which was his ultimate goal—regardless of the personal humiliation he had to endure.

“I don’t understand. You want what sent here?” Scott asked, his voice wavering as he braced himself for the assault sure to come over something he had obviously missed.

Stone looked up from the report he was reading, his creased brow and pinpointing stare reflecting his obvious frustration with Scott. If the General hated any one thing, it was being questioned about something he had said.

He expected everyone to think like he did so that they would understand exactly what he wanted done without him having to repeat himself over and over again.

“Are you hard of hearing, Commander?” Stone said, his voice slightly raised above normal tone.

“No sir. I just don’t understand what you mean,” Scott said, as he tried to control his nervous fidgeting to avoid dropping the stack of folders he had in his hands.

“Did you not read the same report I did, Commander?” Stone said, picking up the folder he had previously placed aside and raising it so that Scott saw it.

“Yes, sir,” Scott replied.

“And did that report detail the deaths of two civilians?”

“Yes, sir, and the death of Captain Block,” he added.

“Very good, Commander; I’m glad to see that the damn United States Navy is still teaching its people to read. Now if only they could master the process of thinking for themselves—wouldn’t that be a fucking grand accomplishment?”

Scott stood silently, waiting for the tirade to end. After listening to many of them before he knew it was best to remain silent, until the General had finished his berating, and then move on from there. Any interruption would usually involve a physical attack of the nearest object within the General’s grasp being thrown at him. A tape dispenser or stapler when hurled with force could cause quite a bit of damage; Scott knew this very well from personal experience. The next few seconds would tell. 

“Now, listen carefully, Commander,” Stone began, his voice unmercifully cold and sharp. “I want the two civilian bodies sent back to SOCOM. The unfortunate Captain Block
doesn’t have any body remaining; it was torn to pieces
, as I recall. So, given the obvious, my statement makes perfect sense as to
whose
bodies I am referring to. Does it not?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued. “So
you
make it happen—and
quietly.
”

“Yes, sir, I’ll have Major Barkley see to it pers—”

“No,” Stone said adamantly. “Not Barkley. I want someone outside to do it so that this can’t be traced through normal channels. Aren’t there any dark op spooks in the area? Maybe some from Army Intelligence?”

“I’ll have to check but I believe so, sir.”

“Good. Have them do it,” Stone said, replacing his glasses and going back to reading the report he had started earlier, acting as if nothing had just happened between the two of them.

“There may be strings attached, General,” Scott said carefully.

“There are always strings attached to everything that happens,” Stone said, still not looking up from the report. “That’s the only way anything ever gets done these days. But that’s okay. If things work out the way I think they might, we’ll be in good with all of our clandestine friends. And if they don’t—well, they can just have another piece of me. Soon it won’t matter either way. If any of this is true, then even God won’t have any forgiveness for what we are about to do.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll see to it,” Scott said and then turned to leave.

“One more thing,” Stone said.

Scott felt himself flinch as he stopped. The last time he had heard those words, it was the prelude to a tape dispenser attack. He slowly turned back toward the General as his eyes scanned the air for flying objects. He cautiously watched as Stone took out a small note pad from his desk drawer and scribbled some things upon it. A breath of relief escaped Scott’s lips.

A smirk appeared on the General’s face as he continued to write. “Somebody will think I’ve gone off the deep end for sure on this one,” he said. When he finished, he looked over the piece of paper, verifying what he had written. Satisfied, he held it up for Scott.

Scott took the few remaining steps to where the General sat and took the note from his outstretched hand. Stone did not look at him but returned to reading the report he had begun only moments ago.

Scott studied the contents of the note for several seconds. His eyes moved over it repeatedly, re-reading it several times before he spoke.

“Sir, I don’t—”

“Just precautions,” he said calmly, obviously allowing Scott some leeway because the content of the note was a bit untraditional. “We aren’t really sure what we are dealing with here yet and I am not one to take chances. Just have them do exactly as I have instructed. Remember those words: exactly as I have instructed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know it seems odd, but this way it’s safe…well, just in case. When is your so-called expert supposed to arrive?”

“Commander John Reese should arrive in country soon.”

“Good. I don’t want him to know about this little item. I don’t care if he is one of your butt partners on the high seas. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. This will be our little secret, Commander Scott,” he said, looking up from the report. “You know how I feel about secrets, right?” Stone asked, as his hand moved toward the tape dispenser that sat on the desk. He picked it up in his hand and balanced it carefully in the center of his palm. His eyes remaining focused on Scott.

“Yes, sir, I do,” Scott said, with a slight tremble in his voice he tried to hide.

“Secrets are our business. Secrets to us are like mud to a pig. They roll in it and love every minute of it. Wouldn’t you agree?” Stone asked. “Isn’t that what we are like?”

“Yes, sir. Just like pigs.”

“Good. Now that we are clear—get back to work, Commander.”

“Yes, sir,” Scott answered as he turned and walked back toward his desk. Before he had gone two steps, a loud crash of metal on metal sounded from behind him. He quickly turned back toward the General. A metal garbage can near the desk had been overturned. Lying on the floor next to the can was the tape dispenser. 

“Piece of shit,” Stone growled. “Goddamn supply people can’t even buy decent tape dispensers that are worth a shit. Useless garbage is all they are; they can’t perform the task they were designed for; they belong in the shit can.”

Stone brought his sharp gaze to bear upon Scott.

“Don’t you agree Commander, that if
something cannot perform
the assignment it is tasked with, that it belongs in the shit can?”  

“Yes, sir,” Scott answered tentatively.

“Good. Glad to see that you agree, Commander. Yes…it’s like the pig analogy that you made earlier. The tape dispenser is useless; therefore, it belongs in the trash. Now if someone was to be useless and not perform the way they were expected to, they too might be analogized as trash, would they not, Commander?”

 “Yes, sir,” Scott agreed.

“And they could end up being disposed of in the trash—so to speak.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well then, I guess that clears all that up. Sorry for the distraction, I realize that you have something very important to do—so get to it, Commander.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Scott said and quickly turned away and headed back towards his desk.

However, before Scott made it, he felt a stab of pain in the square of his back as an object struck him. He collapsed forward, grasping the surface for support. As he turned back, he saw a stapler lying on the ground near his feet. His eyes watery with the pain and shock of the attack and his breathing irregular, Scott slowly turned back toward Stone. The General was sitting at his desk, his hands resting folded on the surface.

“Commander,” Stone began, “I just wanted you to know I
did
take offense to your earlier comment about us being like pigs.”

“But you...” Scott began and then stopped.

“I what?” asked Stone as his eyes bore down on Scott.

“Nothing,”

 “I know what I said. I was trying to see if you have any backbone. Apparently you don’t. Pigs! Pigs are fucking stupid creatures, which is why their ass ends up on the dining room table! I have no intention of that happening through either my own doing or someone else’s. Are we clear?”

Scott fought to control the anger in his voice as he replied, “Yes, sir.”

“Good, glad to hear it,” Stone said sincerely. “By the way, I am having some people over this weekend for drinks. Why don’t you stop by?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Good. I’ll look forward to it,” Stone answered and then returned his gaze back to the folder on his desk.

Scott slowly sat in his chair, wincing at the pain that seared through his body, both physical and mental. He struggled to read the note that the General had given him earlier as he tried to calm himself. He forced his eyes to remain focused on his desk and not look up when he heard the General quietly laugh. 

Chapter Two

Washington, DC

S
IX
M
ONTHS
A
GO

 Excerpt from the classified Congressional Investigation into the deaths of General Stone, US Army, Commander of Special Operations Command, and Special Attaché, Commander Scott, US Navy.

Congressman Stewart
: “General Morris, this commission understands the need for secrecy concerning matters of our special operations forces. We understand that you are new at your position as Commander Special Operations Command. However, if you could summarize the events in a way that would resolve our questions and preserve the security of this matter, it would be greatly appreciated.”

General Morris:
“Of course, Congressman Stewart. As you all know, General Stone and Commander Scott had numerous responsibilities, one of which included the war on drugs. From our thorough investigation, it is apparent to us that the deaths of General Stone and Commander Scott were sanctioned kills issued by a conglomeration of drug cartels. These cartels were running scared, gentleman, because we had a team of men capable of disrupting their operations. We conducted several attacks on them and were succeeding in putting a serious dent in the amount of drugs entering this country.”

Congressman Stewart:
“We’ve read the reports about these incursions by our special ops. The data is impressive. However, getting back to the two murders…perhaps you could enlighten us as to the implications and horrific circumstances of their deaths—the draining of their blood and those…those collars on them? What of that?”

General Morris:
“Simple scare tactics. As you and your distinguished colleagues are aware, many of these drug cartels are savages. They believe in myths and folklore as a way in which to spread fear. The removal of the blood was akin to removing a person’s soul so that they cannot go to heaven. The collars are a symbol of the control they think they have over us. These drug cartels seek to destroy our will for this fight by any means possible.”

Congressman Stewart:
“I see. So all of the rumors we have heard from the interrogation of captured members of these drug cartels, absurd as they may be, of our men being vampires, are a result of these beliefs?”

General Morris
: “That’s correct, Congressman. They portrayed our men as vampires because of their stealth abilities. When General Scott heard of this, he encouraged the men to play the part, called it mind warfare. If the fear of vampires made the cartels slip up or be a little nervous and perhaps make mistakes, we would use that to our advantage as well.”

Congressman Stewart:
“I see. It makes sense when you are fighting uncivilized people such as these. Now—what of our men? This team that was secretly attacking the cartels?”