Sabotage: Beginnings (18 page)

Ben uncrossed sinewy thighs. An erection had returned. Atrigi’s perseverance had made him frisky again. But to be fair—everything made Ben frisky. He’d grown more hungry to consume the man than to collect his information. His appetite had caused him to veer from the mission’s objective, but he struggled with the Agency’s abandonment of his cause versus his strong urge to kill and consume. It was what they taught him to do after all.

He’d had enough. It was time to fuck and feast on the good doctor.

T
he all-terrain buggy
rattled across the last incline before it coasted to a slow-rolling stop in between barriers. Less than a mile away, on the outskirts of the complex, Justice killed the ignition. He’d promised Commander Ross they’d not be inside bin Laden’s complex when SEAL Team 6 arrived to take out the terrorist. Justice had other plans. He looked to the passenger seat and jostled a quick thumbs up. There was no reply.

“Sure you’re up to this?” he asked.

Batya busied herself adjusting her rifle.

Justice grabbed her by the left elbow. “You okay?”

The barrel of a forty-five-caliber semi-automatic jammed its one unblinking eye at him. He lunged out of the aluminum frame buggy—his eyes big and focused.

“What the fuck, Batya?”

“Just showing you I am ready. Your medical team did an admirable job getting me back into the fight.” Checkered squares ruffled as Justice saw a determined grin break beneath her headscarf.

He eased his right hand atop the barrel to move the pistol from his face. “I can see that. They also told you to go easy for a few days.”

“I am going easy. This is why we drove instead of hiking, no?”

Justice smirked. She was back. He’d missed her strength and massacre of the English language. Thankful she’d only suffered from dehydration and not the internal bleeding they suspected, Justice was glad to have his equal back alongside on this mission.

“And how about you, baby, did you get that stab wound stitched?” she asked.

Justice groaned as his hand rubbed the tender area low on his abdomen. “Back on the bayou we called those pig stickers. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to get your attention. Jabar fucked up—he should’ve killed me.” Justice’s eyes flashed toward her. He wore a giant grin. “Did you just call me baby?”

“That I did. You whined like a baby back there. It’s only fitting.” Batya’s eyes flashed a taunting glower. “Are we babies no longer?”

“Yes, we are still babies.” Justice jabbed his hand beneath his heavy bulletproof vest—agitated at the interruption of a phone call. He pressed a gloved finger across the hard plastic case to reveal the screen’s drab-green marquee. It vibrated until he reluctantly mashed the button to accept the call.

“Go,” he snarled.

“It’s time to come home.” Dunnigan’s voice was high-pitched and threatening.

Justice rolled his eyes. He recognized the tension, maybe even nervousness, in Dunnigan’s tone. He stepped away from Batya and held a finger up for her to give him privacy.

“What do you mean, time to come home?”

Dunnigan cleared his throat, “It’s over. You’re not to interfere with the operation to capture The Goat. Do you understand me?”

Justice kicked at piles of what might’ve been camel dung. He exhaled while he tried to steady the anger that fumed within him. He understood the situation and was determined to not allow the Agency to fuck him over once again. He’d already gone through so much, and to be called off once he got this close was yet another reinforcement of his suspicions that the government never really wanted to win this war on terror.

“Carl, unless you’re going to come here personally to stop me, then go fuck yourself.” Justice peered against the sun. He bit at his lip as anxiety brewed—his target was less than a mile’s hike across the desert.

“Don’t make me deactivate you, Justice.”

“I’m going to see this through. The target is within reach.”

Justice heard what sounded like Dunnigan slamming his hand against a desk. He’d gotten under Dunnigan’s skin.

“Last chance, Justice. Confirm my order to return to Langley or I’ll change your status to rogue.” Dunnigan seemed to have regained his composure.

Justice shoved his palm against his teeth and seethed. Rogue classification meant CIA Eraser Teams would aggressively hunt him down. Justice licked his lips and spit sand from his tongue. He’d given everything to serve the Agency. Twenty-four experimental agents erased, and Dunnigan wanted to pull the plug before The Goat or Ben was eliminated? No fucking way.

“Carl, we go back many years. Do you even understand how serious your threat is?” Justice waved to Batya to give him another moment. “I’m too close to allow this devil to live one day more.”

“Justice, this is an Agency operation. I’ll be damned if some half-rate operative and his Jewish whore are going to jeopardize it,” Dunnigan screamed.

The satellite phone smashed to pieces as it exploded against a cluster of rocks.

Mechanically, Justice marched back toward Batya. He struggled to conceal his rage, but the tightness in his jaw felt like a vice grip had yanked his skin back to his spine. This wasn’t Batya’s problem until Dunnigan had just included her in his threats. Dunnigan would pay.

Batya jerked the glove from her hand and pressed a palm against Justice’s cheek. “Justice, are you okay?” She shook her head. “That was a stupid question, of course you’re not okay. What is going on?”

He turned away and unzipped his nylon gear bag. “Let’s go.”

“We are partners in this operation. Do not disrespect me and tell me to ‘go’.”

Justice jerked his long-range sniper rifle from the dune buggy and secured it across his torso. His eyes narrowed across the mountain—he’d be damned if the CIA or Batya would distract him from killing that murdering bastard. America deserved better.

“Justice, do not ignore me. I’ve been through hell with you and I’ll finish the journey.” Batya moved in front of Justice’s path, “Is it the CIA? Have they marked you?”

“Us.”

Batya bit at her knuckle. Dread seared itself into her beautiful eyes. Justice blew out a breath as an apology hitched in his chest. He reached for her and, for once, she allowed herself to become vulnerable. He buried his bearded chin against her head. He hurt for what the future held.

“I’ve been terminated, too.” She sobbed. “Seems those who matched us for this mission also coordinated our demise. I can never return to my beloved Israel.”

“I’m so sorry, Batya.” Justice, unfamiliar with showing sympathy, tried his best to comfort her. “I hope the Mossad doesn’t offer the same retirement plan as the CIA.”

“What shall become of me?” she wailed.

Justice gulped the scorching desert air—it was time to focus on the present, “Now’s not the time to worry about our future. We’re too close to killing him.”

Her body stiffened and she pushed away. He’d not seen her in a moment of weakness since they first traversed that sheer cliff edge at the Pakistani border. Justice grabbed for her, but she shuffled out of reach. He watched as she moved to secure her weapons and gear from the bed of the dune buggy.

“Here, let me carry your go-bag,” Justice insisted.

She yanked back on the strap. “I asked you not to insult me.” She tugged the scarf from her face to show her mouth in a tight line that only opened enough to speak. “I may no longer serve the Mossad, but I will always be trained by the Mossad. Do not disrespect me again, Justice Boudreaux.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you are very sorry, Justice Boudreaux.” She walked away from the vehicle with her sniper rifle and equipment bag hung across her shoulders.

“You’re forgetting your water supply,” he called.

She tossed her right hand above her head. “I don’t plan on making it back after we take this shot.”

“Batya,” Justice whispered.

He hurried after her with the extra water bladders. They’d both become physically exhausted, but it would be more than fitness that would get them through this final execution. It would be their sense of duty—to do the right thing always. No exceptions.

Fuck Dunnigan and those clowns at the Agency. They’ll answer for their corrupt ways in person.

They walked in silence except for the fine sand that scrunched and brushed the tips of their battered boots. He knew her well enough to understand the rigid march was her method of defeating a body that wanted to stop. He didn’t call out for a break—they both knew the only option was forward until forward was no longer an option. Then it was death.

Justice cleared his throat, trying to shed the arid environment’s sticky dry coating that always seemed to embed itself before he spoke. “Two hundreds yards until we set up camp.”

Batya nodded.

Justice placed his gear down carefully. Despite his burning legs and shoulders achingly arched forward because of the extra weight, he took care of setting up their sniper’s nest before he ever considered taking a drink of water or resting.

“How is it that you continue to receive intelligence feeds despite being cut off from your Agency?” Batya’s hazel eyes blazed in contrast to sunburned skin.

Justice pointed to his temple. “I just know things.”

“I know things, too. And I know you are full of nonsense.” Finally a smile carved out in the reddened skin.

“Commander Ross has been kind enough to assist us.”

Her hands flung out from her sides. “But I thought he wanted us out.”

“He does, but he also knows the bureaucratic bullshit of DC, and how quick the powers that be are to change their minds about pre-emptive strikes on high-profile targets.”

“Ross? Did I meet him?”

Justice shook his head. He assembled his shooting station. The real-time information was a gift, but limited. Ross would be immediately bounced if anyone back at Joint Command even suspected his continued assistance to a blacklisted CIA operative. There would be one chance and one shot. It was coming soon—very soon.

“Batya, about back there.”

She moved in and pressed her finger to his lips.

“No.” He gently moved her hand into his. “Let me say my piece. We both may not make it back after this shot, so let me speak.

Her eyes narrowed. The bridge of her nose seemed to flatten as cheeks shown rosy beneath the red. A coy smile exposed the tip of her tongue and she glanced up into his warm brown eyes.

“I’d rather kiss you instead,” she whispered.

A quick scan of the area, and then he pulled her close. As close as he’d wanted to pull her since the first day they’d been assigned to together.

“Baby, I thought you’d never ask.”

Justice pressed his mouth to hers. Electricity ricocheted through his body, and he pulled her closer. Guttural moans rose through his throat until they hummed in unison. Justice wanted her—but it wasn’t the time or the place.

She pulled back and blinked at the sun’s glare that streamed over Justice’s shoulder. “Next time you will have to ask me. Understand?”

“Deal, baby, but we’ve got one more thing to do before our next kiss.”

Batya leaned in and up. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him softly. “I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Great policy.” Justice wrapped his arms around her. He stared deep into her face and grinned. “Seriously, lets do this and get the hell out of here.”

“Okay, I’ll take the shot—I want that next kiss.” She sighed.

Batya dropped to
nuzzle behind the polymer stock of her Barrett M107 anti-personnel sniper rifle. The .50 caliber looked natural cuddled within her long grip. Justice lingered over her to survey the area for counter-snipers. Although the rifle had the ability to blast its mark at over two thousand yards, they’d moved closer—dangerously close at just inside one thousand yards.

“You got an eye?” Batya asked without turning away from the scope.

Justice pressed the binoculars against his arid eyes. “Not yet.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Not sure this is a good location.” He dropped the binos and stepped away.

“We are on a protected high ridge with the sun to our rear. We do have to hike back to bug out, but I do not expect anyone to pursue us from within the compound. What is wrong with our location?”

“It’s too close.” He grit his teeth—worry twisted in his gut.

Batya smacked her fist against the thin ground cloth that helped to minimize any dust that got into the rifle’s bolt action. She broke the main rule of sniper craft—she took her eye off the target.

“Damn it, Justice Boudreaux. We discussed this. He’s inside and that window is the only opportunity to take him out.” Her expression showed the trained determination he’d always seen her exhibit. “We’ll have to deal with the consequences once he’s dead.”

Justice glared—he couldn’t allow emotions to affect his judgment. He’d been fully prepared to sacrifice his life for the sake of completing a mission that promised to save Americans.

Damn it. I can’t worry more about her safety than completing this mission.

He turned back to face her. Batya pressed against the scope. He knelt beside her and gently pressed his hand against the small of her back. Her breathing was slow and shallow—she was in the shooter’s zone.