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Member
Join Date: Apr 2005
Location: Washington State
Posts: 14
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The second half of Prelude
Walking the gray area on character development and a little slow on where the story is going, but it is only chapter one. This does contain a little adult content and language without being graphic. CQB
She said as she hunched down under the water. His grin grew into a smile. She abruptly threw one arm out of the water, her hand dangling her swimsuit briefly before she tossed it to the shore as well.
"Catch me if you can." She dared as she turned and swam rapidly towards the falls.
The man paused, looked at the shore where both the suits lay and then back at her retreating form before arcing forward and cleanly diving under the water. His strong, overhand strokes brought him closer to her as she entered the falls.
Diving under, they both surfaced on the other side in a small, private grotto. The woman had already clambered out of the water and was grabbing a towel from the waterproof gym bag that was there. The man climbed out of the water, using the natural steps gouged out of the rocks.
She turned and tossed him a towel. He caught it and began drying himself as he watched her movements. She squatted down and pulled out a thick comforter, spread it out on the smooth, dry sand and lay down on it. She looked at his body as he finished drying himself and walked over to her.
There was a fine network of scars on the right side of his chest, three small puncture marks on his right shoulder, and a smaller scar on his right knee. He knelt at the edge of the comforter, looking her over. When his eyes met hers, she spoke.
"You going to stay there all day drooling?" she asked.
He smiled and moved to her, taking her in his arms as their lips met again. He rolled on top of her and they began
Kissing fervently, her hands moving down his ribs and across his shoulders and back as she traced the small network of scars until she gripped his muscled buttocks. For the next several hours, they lost themselves in each other as their lovemaking echoed inside the hidden grotto.
Hours later, they both lay on their backs, dreamily relaxing. The man rolled onto his side and propped his head up on one arm. His other hand he used to trace along her side and up to her chest. She lay there, one arm over her eyes as she caught her breath. She sighed as his hand found her breast and began to knead it softly. She dropped her arm from her eyes and turned her head to look at him.
"James. You really shouldn't be doing that." She said quietly.
His hand continued its movements as he felt her reaction to it on the palm of his hand. He grinned at her.
"I know, but I couldn't help myself. You are just so beautiful." She smiled at his words and placed her hand over his and gently removed it from her chest. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked through the falls. He followed her gaze and noticed that it was getting dark outside. He glanced at his Rolex Submariner.
"Damn. It's getting late. We should be going." He said as he stood and gathered up the towels.
She remained propped up as he came back to her and extended his hand to her. She smiled at his gesture and gripped his hand. He pulled her to her feet and they both stood with their faces mere inches apart. She looked into his mysterious, green eyes and quickly kissed the tip of his nose before letting go of his hand and grabbing the comforter and stuffing it into the gym bag. He looked around the area in case they had forgotten anything then turned and took the bag from her.
Holding each other?s hand they entered the water and swam out from behind the falls. Surfacing in the pool they both swam to the edge and struggled to put on their discarded swimsuits. They held hands as they walked back down the path and to the beach. Once on the beach, the sun was just starting to set. Red and orange
colored the sky as the sun sank lower into the sea. No words were spoken as they watched the beauty of the setting sun. She wrapped her arm in his and lay her head on his shoulder as they walked along the beach.
"I wish this would last forever." She said.
He looked down at the top of her head and gripped her hand a little tighter.
"I know. I wish it would last forever as well." He thought for a few minutes as they walked along in the growing darkness.
"Wishing makes it so. But, I only have three more days leave left." She gripped his arm and looked up at him, his features somewhat subdued by the fading light.
"Oh James, I wish we could just stay forever. I know you have to be back. I have to go back too. Lets just have fun until we have to go. Lets just see and do everything." She said excitedly.
He nodded as they approached the little bungalow that had been their home for the last week. For the next three days, they toured the local sites, went horseback riding and enjoyed each other?s company. On that final morning, they woke in each other?s arms and slowly made love as the sun brightened the little house. Afterwards, they lay there relaxing and thinking about where this was taking them.
Finally, James rose and went to take a shower, leaving her to her own thoughts. He came back in as she was bent over getting a change of clothes out of her bags. He stood there admiring her perfectly shaped, supple, bare body. She stood up, turned, and jumped a little, slightly startled as she saw him standing there.
"How long have you been there?" she asked, a small smile on her full lips.
"Not long." He said as a lopsided grin crossed his face.
"Well, look at this then." She said as she spun around a few times on her toes, her arms above her head, accentuating her small waist. He leaned against the doorframe and nodded his head in approval.
"Not bad." He said. She stopped and looked at him.
"Not bad? What do you mean, 'not bad'?" She came up to him, her face almost touching his, her eyes sparkling.
"Not bad?" she asked again.
"Yeah, it'll do." He said in a non-committal tone. Her eyes widened and then narrowed.
"It'll do?" She balled her fists and stomped her foot on top of his.
"It'll do?!" she yelled at him, stomping her other foot on his.
"OOOOOH! Men!" she said defiantly and pushed him aside as she entered the bathroom. Slamming the door behind her.
"Ouch." He said to the empty room as he lifted one leg to massage his recently stomped toes.
He dressed quickly and organized his bags. He then carried the bags to the front door, dropped them on the floor, and went into the small kitchen. His face had a grin on it as he put his hand on the water tap. He listened
for the shower and heard her humming to herself. He kept his hand on the faucet and thought some more before he shook his head slightly, his grin growing broader, and turned on the water to fill up the small coffee pot. He let the water run for a while as it filled up the pot, his head cocked to one side as if waiting. Suddenly, he heard a loud scream followed by a few shouted expletives.
The shower stall door slammed, almost immediately followed by the bathroom door banging open. As he turned to place the coffee pot on the stove top, he heard stomping feet and muttering growing louder until she entered the
kitchen from the hallway, wrapped in a towel, soaking wet, shampoo and soap still clinging to her. She stood there, dripping onto the floor, glaring at him, her hair slicked to her head, one arm holding up the towel, the other reaching out for him.
"Something wrong?" he asked innocently.
"You... you...you..." she pointed a finger at him, her face reddening; unable to make the words come out.
"You...OOOOOOH! MEN!" she sputtered out finally, before spinning on her heels and heading back to the bathroom.
"Did you want some coffee?" he asked to her retreating back. She stopped, spun back around, her eyes wide,
"You.... you..." He nodded, as if knowing what she was saying, a grin on his face.
"You...OOOH! If I didn't love you so much I'd just have to kick your ass." She finally said before retreating to the bathroom and slamming the door. He walked to the bathroom door, a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. Knocking softly, he opened the door a little and stuck his head inside.
"Anyone ever tell you you're beautiful when you're angry?" he told her as he watched her rinse off the remaining soap residue. She glanced at him in the mirror.
"No." she stopped drying her hair with the towel and looked at his reflection.
"But you're still a shit." She said to him. He smirked and opened the door wider, and placed the coffee cup on the counter. He stood there in the doorway, watching as she dried herself off, one leg on the toilet seat. He silently reached for the other towel on the countertop and grabbing both ends, began to twirl it into a tight roll. He stood back and flicked his wrist; the opposite end of the towel streaked out and contacted her left butt cheek with a loud snap.
"YEEOOOW!" she screamed as she jerked up and turned to him, one hand rubbing her butt.
"You shit!" she yelled at him. he quickly dropped the towel and retreated from the bathroom as she reached out and slammed the door shut, just inches from his face. He walked back to the kitchen, chuckling softly. He sat at the small table, sipping his coffee and lost in thought. He heard the bathroom door open and the muffled footsteps as she approached the kitchen area. His right hand moved to his pocket and withdrew a small box, which he placed, on his lap, hidden from view by the table. She breezed into the kitchen, wearing a pair of mid thigh, white shorts, and a yellow blouse, poured out the cup he had left in the bathroom, not saying a word or acknowledging his presence. She moved to the small table and sat down, a slight wince crossed her face as she felt the area that he had hit with the wet towel. He chuckled a little at that but quickly covered it by taking a sip of his now cold
coffee. She looked at him, her eyes narrowed into a glare, then turned to examine the wall. He put his cup and looked back at her with an innocent expression. She leaned forward.
"Don't you look at me that way." She scolded. " You know you did something."
He leaned back, a wide-eyed, little boy 'who me?' look on his face. She sighed disgustingly and looked away. He reached down for the small box as he pretended to stretch.
"Oh well. I guess that means you don't want what I have for you." He straightened back up and looked at her. She feigned disinterest and continued looking away. He placed his hands on the table top, the small box hidden under them.
"It's just a little 'I'm sorry' kind of thing." He said. "You probably don't want it anyway, so I'll just throw it out." He made a motion as if to toss it out in the garbage can. She quickly faced him.
"Wait!" she said. "What is it?" she asked. "You said you didn't want it. So out it goes." He continued.
"No, no, what is it?" He looked at her. "You sure? It's no big thing. Just something I picked up." He said. She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. Her eyes wide as she grit her teeth in mock anger.
"I
want it!" she said through her teeth.
He stopped and looked back at her. "Well, OK." He slid the little box to the middle of the table and removed his hand from it. She looked at it.
"Well. Open it." He urged. She hesitantly moved her hands towards it.
"It won't bite. Open it." Slowly she moved her hands towards it, almost touching it.
"Go ahead." He urged again. She looked at him, cocked her head to one side.
"Don't rush me." She told him. Slowly her hands held it and lifted it from the table. He leaned forward.
"Open it already." He said She looked at him and moved the box to one side.
"Alright!" she said exasperated. She slowly opened the box, the sun's light, coming through the kitchen window, reflected off the diamond inside. She gasped, inside the box was a one-karat diamond engagement ring. She looked at him, tears started to well up in her eyes as she reached for his hand on the table. He took her hand and held it firmly and looked into her watery eyes.
"Katrina Babette Richardson, will you marry me?" He held her hand waiting for the answer. She put the box down on the table and used her now free hand to wipe her eyes. He sat there watching her reaction. She nodded her head as she wiped her eyes and nose.
"Does that mean yes?" he asked her
"Yes, you shit. It means yes." He got up and grabbed a Kleenex and came around to her side of the table, kneeling down in front of her. She took the Kleenex and wiped her eyes and softly blew
her nose as he removed the ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger. He then took her other hand and held them both before kissing the knuckles. She leaned forward, her eyes still watery, and kissed him. He reached out and put his arms around her and hugged her as she quietly said 'yes' over and over in his ear. Slowly she slid off the chair to join him as he knelt before her on the floor. They hugged each other tightly, her tears now flowing freely. His lips sought hers and they kissed. So wrapped up in their embrace, they didn't hear the car approach down the gravel drive.
Rudolph 'Rudy' Gutierrez, an older Costa Rican or 'Tico' native as they liked to call themselves, was the
owner of this little bungalow. He was a medium tall, older, distinguished gentleman who made his living buying, selling, and renting properties within Costa Rica. He and his wife, Carmelita, who acted as his secretary, lived just south of the city of Tambor in a splendid house overlooking the ocean. He had known James Martin for a
number of years. His younger son, Antonio, had met Martin years ago when they both joined the Navy. Now, as he approached the little house, he stopped at the small carport and lightly tapped his horn. Inside,
Martin and Babette, still holding each other tightly, jumped at the sound. Martin stood and peered out the window.
"Damn. Its Rudy already."
He turned and reached out for her and helped her to her feet. She wiped her eyes and grabbed some more Kleenex. Martin led the way to the door and grabbed the bags. He stopped, half turned and extended his hand to her. She took it as she wiped her eyes and nose again.
"I'm a mess." She said. "I can't go out there now." He sighed and handed her a pair of sunglasses.
"Here. No one will ever know." She wiped her eyes once more and grabbed the offered glasses.
Rudy had exited the little Isuzu Trooper and was standing by the open rear doors. Martin and Babette stepped outside into the bright sun and walked over to him. Rudy caught the reflection of the ring on Babette's hand and smiled knowingly. He took the bags from Martin and winked at him. Martin threw him a lopsided grin and gave him thumbs up when Babette wasn't looking. Rudy tucked the luggage securely inside, closed the doors, and went around to the driver?s side. He looked through the windows and saw Martin and Babette standing beside the truck, hugging each other tightly. He got in and slammed the door a little harder to get their attention. They broke apart and got inside. She snuggled up to him almost at once. Rudy put the little truck in reverse, half turned, and
leaned across the front seat to look out the back window. He slowly made his way down the narrow drive, his eyes occasionally glancing at the ring on her hand as he looked at the love in their eyes. He smiled broadly as he turned back around and worked the gearshift into drive.
The hour long drive to the airport was one in silence, as he watched the two lovers, Martin with his arm around her shoulders, Babette with her arm entwined with his free arm and her other hand flat on his knee. He Drove to the departing passenger area at the airport. He turned on his hazard lights, got out of the truck, and went around to open the rear door. Martin and Babette exited and Martin went back to Rudy to retrieve the bags. Rudy had a smile on his face as he handed the bags to Martin.
"Congratulations James. Its so wonderful to see two people in love."
Rudy looked at Babette as she was standing on the curb reading the departing flight information. Martin followed Rudy's glance.
"Yes it is Rudy." He sighed as he adjusted his grip on the bags. "That it is."
Martin shook Rudy's hand.
"Until next time my friend." Rudy said.
Martin nodded "Thank you for everything."
Rudy shook his head "It was nothing. For you, anytime." He said.
He stepped up onto the curb and approached Babette.
"Senorita, an honor." Rudy took her hand and gently kissed it. "Congratulations. You two make a perfect couple." Rudy shook Martin's hand once again and surprisingly received a hug from Babette that made a blush rise on his cheeks.
"Wait until I tell Carmella the good news." Rudy stood there and watched the couple move inside the terminal before returning to the truck and the drive home.
Once inside, Martin gently guided Babette to the ticket counter, checked their baggage, and had enough time to get a quick lunch before the flight. They sat in the small airport café, eating, and people watching. Finally, Babette spoke.
"You know that my father is Army."
Martin nodded as he chewed.
"He might not approve of you being Navy."
She jokingly added. Martin grinned a little.
"I get out in less than a year. I don't think he'd mind too much." Martin took a sip of his soda.
"After all, he is a green beanie. We do about the same kind of work." He added. Babette nodded agreement.
"That's true. But he's old and set in his ways." She nodded semi seriously, "I'll get mom to hit him with
the frying pan a few times to get him to see the light." They both laughed a little at that. Martin had met Babette's mother once before, a diminutive, German born woman, who could have been mistaken for an Irish laundress in other times. She was quick with a smile and a kind word but a little firebrand if you crossed her. Babette's father had met and married her on one of his many tours in Europe. Babette got her Nordic good looks, sense of humor and playfulness from her mother, and her inner strength and athletic grace from her father. They finished
the meal in silence and walked hand in hand to the boarding gate. They sat and looked into each other?s eyes until the flight was called, no words spoken, yet mountains of information transmitted nonetheless. Throughout the flight, they sat in silence, Babette occasionally dozing while Martin read the in flight magazines, his mind miles away.
After switching planes in Florida and a stopover in Texas, they arrived back in San Diego. It was night when they exited the terminal. Martin flagged down a taxi and loaded the luggage into the trunk. He guided Babette inside, gave directions, and tried to make himself comfortable. Babette put her head on his shoulder and promptly went back to sleep, tired from the different time zones and monotonous flights. The taxi stopped at Babette's apartment first, where Martin helped her out of the cab and got her luggage. He walked to her door, held her tightly, and kissed her. She looked at him through tired eyes and fumbled for her keys. On the second try, she unlocked the door. Martin put her bags inside the doorway, and kissed her one more time.
"I'll call you tomorrow." He said looking at his watch. "Actually later today." He added She nodded sleepily.
"I should be up at noon." She said. "I do have class tomorrow." He hugged her once more, made sure she was inside all right and then skipped back down the steps and into the waiting cab.
He leaned back in the seat after giving the driver directions. The twenty-five minute ride to Coronado Naval Station took him by some of downtown, its bright lights a beacon in the night. At the base gate, the taxi was stopped and Martin was required to show his identification to the Shore Patrol. After a cursory inspection, the taxi proceeded
past the various buildings, classrooms, and officer quarters until reaching the Naval Special Warfare compound. The high, chain link fence surrounding the administrative buildings, training areas and dormitory like barracks, looked sinister in the harsh light cast from the security floods. The taxi stopped just outside the gate and Martin got out, paid the driver and retrieved his bags. He walked up to the guardhouse and was greeted by the guards there. These men were not Shore Patrol but rather from the Marine security detachment. As Martin stopped under the floodlight just outside the guardhouse, he set his bags down and pulled out his identification. One of the large Marines on duty, a sidearm present on his duty belt walked out to greet him. The second guard remained inside the guardhouse, one hand on the alarm and the other on his sidearm, while the third guard remained just
outside the small circle of light, his M16 held at the ready. The first Marine, walked in such a way so as the other two Marines could see Martin at all times. He took Martin's ID and shone his flashlight on the photo and then on Martin's face.
"Sir, step back two paces." He said. Martin complied. The marine then squatted down and unzipped the two bags that were on the ground. The marine shone his flashlight inside and inspected the bags one at a time. He finished, zipped both up, and stood. He handed the ID back and stepped to one side.
"Welcome back sir." He said as Martin collected his bags and was buzzed through the electronic gate and into the secure compound. He walked past the Marines who gave him their customary scowl. The short walk to his
barracks took him past the double fenced, semi underground intelligence building, a reconditioned World War II bunker whose roof and surrounding grounds were littered with satellite dishes, antennas and floodlights as well as its own security force. He stayed well away from the fence as he passed by. Still, the Marine detail watched his every move on their infrared cameras and night scopes from the darkened viewing slits of the gatehouse.
Walking across the 'grinder' and cutting between one of the two dining facilities, he entered the 'Quad'. The quad was partially taken up by a large, three story, 'U' shaped barracks building. The open side of the 'U' faced the ocean, which was hidden by the low dunes but visible from the second and third floor rooms. Between the ocean and the dunes, were obstacles, some man-made, others not. In the faint light, the structures looked like an
erector set gone mad. Martin entered the first floor of the center section and signed in at the quarterdeck, nodding to the sailor on duty before climbing the stairs to the third floor. At the top of the stairs, he turned left and walked down the quiet hall, his footsteps echoing softly on the highly polished floor. He stopped in front of his room, opened the door, and turned on the overhead light. Immediately, a size 11 jungle boot came flying at his head. He jerked his head to one side as the boot hit against the doorframe and rebounded back into the room.
"Goddamnit! Turn that fucking light off!" Martin quickly turned the light off and made his way to his area.
A large multi purpose room divider which contained a small desk, an upright closet to hang uniforms in, and numerous drawers of varying depth and size, separated the room. Each of the rooms allowed for double occupancy, with a common area that most had converted to their own tastes. Martin's roommate was
Robert 'Clint' Lindstrom. They had joined the Navy at about the same time and had been in the same BUD/S class together. All during BUD/S, they competed against each other as well as the instructors, to see who
would go the distance. The competition turned friendly after both had successfully graduated BUD/S and been assigned to the same team. Now after three years of working together, Martin was looking at getting
out of the teams while Lindstrom was researching extending his tour. Martin left his desk lamp off as he dropped his bags on the floor and quietly undressed down to his boxers before lying down on the bed. He heard slight movement from the other side of the divider and a definite feminine giggle. He interlaced his fingers behind his head and grinned slightly as he closed his eyes went to sleep.
Chapter Two
Martin woke the next morning to Lindstrom's grumbling on the other side of the room. He heard Lindstrom rummaging through his footlocker. Martin sat up and looked at the clock on the desk. It was a little after 7am.
"Goddamnit!" Lindstrom muttered as he searched deeper into the locker.
"What you looking for?" Martin asked Lindstrom walked over to Martin's side of the room.
"Just my other fucking boot." He said as he pointed to his left foot. Lindstrom was partially dressed in the unofficial uniform, plain OD green BDU's with bloused boots, except Lindstrom was missing one boot. Martin yawned as he put his feet on the floor.
"Jesus Christ! This floor is cold." He said and rubbed his eyes and stretched.
"Want me to fetch your slippers?" Lindstrom asked sarcastically.
"Fuck you." Martin replied.
"No, fuck you. I got to be on deck in less than 10mikes and I need that fucking boot." Lindstrom shot back as he returned to his search.
"Did you try on top of the divider?" he asked to Lindstrom's back. Lindstrom stopped, stood upright, and moved to check that location. He stood on his desk and pulled himself up.
"Got it!" he said as he stepped down and put it on. "How'd you know?" he asked Martin as he laced up the boot.
"Maybe because some suckhead sent it in my direction last night." Martin said as he walked from around his side of the divider scratching his short hair.
"Well shit man, I was getting busy last night. I didn't expect you back until this morning." Lindstrom said as he stood up to his full six-foot height and finished buttoning his shirt across his well-defined chest.
"It was this morning." Martin said as he moved to the small refrigerator set against one wall.
"Oh yeah. I guess it was." Lindstrom said as he grabbed his head cover and moved to the door.
"Welcome back." Lindstrom said as he walked out the door.
Martin pulled out a V8 from the fridge and popped it open before sitting down in the couch and turning on the remote for his CNN intake. He sat there and digested the talking heads as they discussed the top news stories. He surfed channels as he sipped his drink. Martin stood, turned off the television, and tossed the empty drink container into the trash. He went to his desk and set his watch to the time that his desk clock had. Looking out the window, he saw the sun shining off the ocean and the waves crashing against the shore. There was a morning PT class working its way through the obstacle course. He watched as they made their way through the course, instructors yelling commands and directions at them. He turned and was about to get a change of clothes out when the phone rang. He picked it up almost immediately.
"Martin." He said into it.
"This is the Operations officer of the deck. A level one alert has been called. All personnel assigned to 1st platoon, Detachment Bravo are to report to the Operations Center in 10minutes." The duty officer said matter of factly.
"Copy." Martin said before hanging up. The decision on what to wear today had been made for him. Martin hurriedly dressed in his green 'utilities', laced up his jungle boots, jogged down the stairs and across the quad to the Ops Center. He slowed to a walk as he approached the gatehouse, pulling out his identification. The Marine security detail at the gate was giving everyone a hard stare as they fed their ID into the card reader and punched in the PIN number on the keypad for admittance. Martin entered the secure building and proceeded down the stairs to his right. At the bottom of the stairs, a long, white walled hallway lined with many doors awaited him. Most of the doors he passed were closed but the red light above each was not lit so he knew they weren't occupied. Turning the corner, he saw the rest of the team filing into the last door on the left. Lindstrom was
standing in the hall, drinking a cup of water from the cooler next to the door. Beside Lindstrom was another of Martin's close friends and teammate, James Webb. Webb stood a little over six feet tall, his
waist small as his upper bodies tapered into what most body builders strive for, a 'V' shape. His short blond hair and light blue eyes, gave him that surfer look. He turned as Martin approached.
"JJ. Welcome back." He said as he extended his hand. Martin shook it and nodded to Lindstrom.
"Good to be back." He said, "What's up?" he asked Webb, who usually had a whisper from the intelligence section before alerts were called.
"I have no idea. Not a word came from any of my people." Webb told Martin before crumpling his paper cup and throwing it into the small can next to the cooler.
"Let's go see where the party is this time." He said as he wiggled his eyebrows and headed into the briefing room.
Lindstrom and Martin followed him inside, with Lindstrom closing and locking the door behind him. Once locked, the red light came on outside the door to indicate the room was in use. The briefing room was two tiered with comfortable chairs that had a built in desk arranged in a semi circle facing a small raised platform that contained a podium and large rear projection screen. The platoon's OIC or Officer In Charge, Lt. Carter was on the platform behind the podium arranging his briefing papers. The team shuffled around until they were all seated. Carter looked up and gazed around the room. Just under six foot, he was not an imposing or threatening looking individual. Outside the base, in civilian clothes, he could easily be mistaken for a college student. He was clean-shaven, as his past attempts to grow facial hair ended in nothing more than a slight five o' clock shadow. His brown eyes, behind a pair of clear lens shooting glasses, making him look more like a professor than a student. He picked up his files and tapped them against the podium to straighten them. The tapping of the files on the
wood brought the room to attention. All eyes focused on Carter as he laid the files down and open the top cover.
"Gentlemen, glad you could all make it today." He said. "I know some of you have busy schedules, but, now its time to earn your pay." He looked up and around the room again as he worked the controls built into the top of the stand to darken the room and start the rear projection behind him. He turned to face the large screen as a shaky picture began to form.
"This is a recent Intel film from Guatemala. As you can see, this is not Oscar worthy material, but bear with me." On screen, the picture became clear and only a slight vibration could be seen. Obviously the film was made
from a moving vehicle. Carter slowed the film down and advanced it frame by frame. "If you look there on the left, you can see what Intel has determined to be a black market operation that is stealing Red Cross supplies and United Nations equipment." Carter adjusted some of the controls and the film panned slowly to show more detail. "This was taken by an Army Special Operations team while they were driving through the city. One of the soldiers was making a home video for his family when he caught this." Carter picked up the remote and punched a few buttons. Onscreen, the film resumed normal speed until he slowed it down and zoomed in on a street corner. "Here is a Red Cross relief team being pulled from their vehicle. Onscreen, the film picked up again as the Red Cross team, a small group consisting of two men and two women were pushed against the wall at gunpoint by a large group of armed men, all wearing a red bandanna around the upper left arm. While six of armed men pushed and shoved the workers against the wall and pointed rifles at them, the others were pulling everything out of the relief workers little van. One of the men started forward but was buttstroked in the stomach. The other workers grabbed him and pulled him back. The armed men threw everything out of the van and went through it. One of them walked up to the apparent leader, the same one who had hit the relief worker, to show him what he had found inside a small carry bag. The leader looked inside and said something to the other men, who stopped
what they were doing and looked at him. He leveled his rifle at the workers and from a range of no less than five feet, shot them all until the magazine was empty. He then walked up to the dead workers and spit
on them before motioning his men to follow and walked off camera. The film stopped. Carter rewound it until there was a partial full face angle of the shooter. Playing with the remote, he enlarged and enhanced the frame until the face filled the screen. Turning back to face the team when he was finished.
"This is Esteban Rheinhardt. Claims to be the leader of the New Workers Alliance from Tyranny. The red bandanna
represents the blood strife that he insists is the innocent blood of the campesinos that have died working the fields for nothing but to line the pockets of the rich. He is said to have personally executed more than a dozen relief workers, make that sixteen if you count these four. This is the only known picture of him actually doing the
killing." He paused and looked down at the file in front of him.
"The
Special ops guys, who took this film, followed Rheinhardt to a warehouse he is currently using as a base. They are sitting on it right now waiting for word from the State Department and DOD as to the next step." He paused and looked up.
"That's where we come in. The president wants this handled quietly. No media, no international incident. He has
spoken to the president of Guatemala about this and both of them want to see this man off the streets." He paused and took a sip of water. "Our job is to get in and get out, as quickly and quietly as possible. The Guatemalan president has said he will look the other way when we bag this bastard. As long as we can get him out of the country, he will stand trial for the murder of these four workers. They were all American citizens, all volunteers. This will be a surgical strike."
Carter clicked a few more buttons and a diagram of the city of Los Christanos appeared. The view tilted and panned until it was as if you were walking down the street.
"We will set down here on the roof of this large structure." Carter indicated with a pointer. "Security will be set here and here. Lindstrom and Martin will be the take down team with Webb and Connor covering. Hannaberry and Rogers will secure this corner. Williams and Anderson will set up on this rooftop and provide cover fire for extraction. Myself and Lt Dunmire will be on this corner, securing the rooftop and marking the landing zone for the exfil helo.?
He turned after speaking, the three dimensional map now marked with different color dots.
"Any questions?" Martin raised his hand.
"Sir, what is the preferred method of delivery for Rheinhardt?" Carter looked at him. "The president would like him to stand trial for the crimes he committed against the citizens of this country. If he doesn't cooperate, use whatever force is necessary to secure the prisoner." He looked at Martin; "I'll be going over the rules of engagement before we jump off." Stopped speaking and motioned to Webb.
"Chief, your turn." He said as a way of dismissal as he walked away form the podium. Webb stood and walked to the podium.
"Thank you Lt." he said as he took his place. "The Lt. makes it sound like a walk in the park." He began as he
picked up the remote and pushed a button. "Here is an overview of the mission parameters." He pointed the remote at the screen. A topographical map was superimposed over the city street map. "At the helicast point, there is a market directly below us on the street. Intel states that it's normally busy up to 2100hrs. They also tell us that Rheinhardt's men frequent this market."
The building was brought into larger focus with the market at the center of the screen.
"Across the street, there is a night club which should mask our noise profile when we land. I'm sure you would all prefer a fast rope method, but the time window is too tight. The MH60's that we would normally use for that would increase our sound footprint and not be able to land on the same roof due to weight constraints." He pointed the remote at the screen again. "The insertion platform will be by AH6 or 'Littlebird'." Webb paused to click the remote to the correct picture.
"Williams, I want you to take out these lights here, here and here. This large structure here, at the secondary LZ will provide you with the height to cover that area and our withdrawal." Webb used a pointer to identify the targets and the touch sensitive screen marked them with a red 'x'. "With those lights out, Lindstrom, Martin and myself can move closer to the objective and it also forces the hostiles to stay in the remaining light. At this time, we do not have any information on their night vision capabilities." He turned back and faced the team. "There are no
friendlies at the target site, but this is a civilian area. Weapons remain tight unless fired upon." He looked around the room.
" We have support from Army Special Operations, meaning a Green Beret 'A' team is in the area training a group of Guatemalan troops. Two of those team members were the one's who got Rheinhardt on tape." He put the remote down and closed the files.
"They are loaning us four of their men to secure a secondary LZ approximately a quarter mile away, located in an
old industrial area." He pointed to the location on the screen. "In the event that the shit hits the fan, we will withdraw from the target building and tactically move to the secondary LZ with Williams covering us." He stopped and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the adjoining small table.
"Make no mistake gentlemen, this is an urban area with lots of civilians. I want this to go smooth and by the
numbers. Especially from you two." He added, as he looked straight at Lindstrom and Martin. "Mainly because I'm tagging along with you and don't want to get into a protracted firefight." He stopped and took a sip of water.
"Any questions?" The men sat and digested the plan, some made small notes on the files in front of them while others concentrated on the computer generated map, picturing themselves at each step of the operation. Webb took another sip from his glass.
"Alright then, lets move on." He shuffled the files some more before pulling out a large legal pad. "Williams, you're designated SOTIC on this. Your load out is as follows, your standard PSG1, night scope, thermal and back up. Map in right thigh pocket, MK23, suppressed at tactical carry. Red strobe on your left shoulder, two WP, and CS grenades. Extra batteries for all sights and radio."
Webb flipped the page. "Anderson, you're William's spotter, your load out is as follows, M203, night and thermal scopes, map right thigh pocket, MK23, suppressed at tactical carry, green strobe and red strobe as well as
infrared light sticks. Two CS and two frag. Full compliment of 40mm to include illumination and MP rounds. Extra batteries for scopes and radios, four claymores and a one pound cube of C4." Webb flipped to the next page.
"Connor, you're my wingman on this one. We pull rear security for the entry team. You load out is as follows, MP5SD6, ten, thirty round magazines, subsonic. MK23, suppressed at tactical carry. Red and green smoke grenades, red strobe, four infrared light sticks, map in right thigh pocket, six flash bangs and two CS grenades."
Webb looked up at the men. "Martin, your load out is the same as Lindstrom so I'm only going over this once." He turned back to paper in front of him. "Entry team load out will be as follows, MP5SD6, Mk23, suppressed
at tactical carry, six flash bangs apiece, four CS grenades, fifteen, thirty round magazines, four, one pound cubes of C4 with radio detonators, two thunder strips, and Lindstrom will have a Halligan tool. Both of you will have twelve zip cuffs with you for any prisoners you encounter. My load out will be the same as Connor's and we all know that the 1IC and 2IC will be carrying the radios and other utensils." Webb looked back up and around the room. The team was engrossed in their notes.
"Gentlemen, that concludes the briefing. Equipment check in one hour." Webb brought his wrist up and looked at his watch. "We jump off in 90minutes. Hack." He said as he pushed the countdown timer function on his watch. The team quietly got up form their seats and moved to the door and down the hall to the arms room and equipment rooms. Each member had a pre packed gear bag for each region of the world. They only needed to add or remove items that directly pertained to the operation. From the arms room and equipment bays, the team moved to the isolation barracks to wait, review, and physically do a walk
through for the coming mission.
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