And Aesop’s Barrett sniper rifle.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “They won’t be coming back this way,” Flame said as he flicked the safety on his M60 to ‘ON’.

  “Good thing,” Francis answered. “I don’t have a whole lot of ammunition left,” he said as he looked at Flame. “You?”

  “Maybe a hundred rounds.” He shrugged. “Really doesn’t matter now, does it?” He stood up. “Let’s get back to the others. Make sure everyone’s okay.”

  Everyone was. The Iranians had never gotten to within a hundred yards of the dig site and, as the only fire they got off was the usual spray and pray, very few of their bullets had any chance of hitting a carefully armored and dug-in mark.

  Only Bremby was hit—one round grazed his C-leg. The impact had locked the little processor inside and it had taken some quick work by Bivens to reboot it and allow the weapons expert to climb out of the Safir’s turret under his own power.

  Aesop and Topper beat Flame and Fixer back. They’d been dug in quite a bit closer to the site than the others but had taken a few moments to be sure the Iranians were finished. Topper had put a round through the block of the Ford for good measure, forcing Kaveh’s aide—still hiding inside—to push his way out of the vehicle and rush to join his surviving comrades in the long trek back to the “safety” of their base.

  The lone Safir the Iranians had brought along had broken down as well. Aesop figured they should check it out—there might be some ammo there and God knew they could use it.

  “How many rounds do you have left?” Flame asked the two as he stacked his M60 against the side of the Safir.

  “I have three.” Topper stated as he placed his weapon alongside Flame’s.

  “Four in mine.” Aesop put his Barrett in the stack. “I thought I was gonna have to grab an AK from one of the Iranians if they had continued advancing.”

  “We’ll do just that.” Flame smiled. “After we get some coffee and something to eat.” He looked at the sun, which wasn’t too far above the horizon. “It’s been a long morning.”

  “Amen to that.”

  The four men headed for the big tent and the breakfast they had most certainly earned.

  ***

  “Well.” Flame smiled at Dana over his second cup of coffee. “We did it. We turned back an entire company of Revolutionary Guard all by ourselves.” His smile widened. “What are we going to do for an encore?”

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do—but I know what you’re going to do —you’re going to talk to that girl.” She glared at him. “No more excuses!”

  “Yes, mother,” he answered meekly.

  “And don’t think I’m going to forget about this.” She shook her head. “You will talk to her if I have to take you to her at gunpoint.”

  “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?” His smile returned. “Of course, you’d have to find some ammo.”

  “I think Bremby has that covered.” She lifted her own cup of tea. “He and Aesop are going to check out that Safir the Iranians brought along—Aesop thinks it may be full of ammo and supplies.”

  “We can only hope.” Flame finished his cup and stood. “I am going to get some shut-eye.” He raised an eyebrow at his partner. “Wake me if another army shows up.”

  “I will.” She nodded toward the tent flap. “You have my promise. ”

  ***

  Dana did wake Flame, who’d slept dreamlessly, a few hours later—to tell him that Professor Parfitt and the girls, rather than another army, had been the ones to show up. The professor had started to drive up the road to Baghdad but since Bivens had set the Safir's military radio to the proper frequency, he had been able to monitor the chatter on the men’s earbuds as he drove and returned when he knew the Iranians had been defeated. He had done so after asking the three women if they were prepared to finish what they started. The girls weren’t too happy about it but, as Liz quickly pointed out, work at archeological digs was hard to find.

  Now, six hours after the battle, they’d prepared a special meal for the team that had done the seemingly impossible.

  “Not bad,” Flame said as he looked over the bowl of rice and beans that sat in the middle of the big table. “Do we have any meat?”

  “Of course.” Liz smiled at the big redhead, already in awe of him from the stories she had heard from the others. “It’ll be ready in a minute.”

  “In former times,” Aesop began, smiling. “Two Gaulish heroes might choose the honor of eating the finest piece of meat at the feast.” He raised an eyebrow. “They would then and there engage in a duel to the death to decide which of them was most worthy.”

  “Was that a challenge, Aesop?” Flame grinned.

  “Not from me.” The big man shook his head. “I just wanted to point out that historically, the idea of conferring and displaying status at feasts is well developed. Englynion, for example…”

  “Enough already!” Flame laughed, flinging a chunk of bread that bounced off Aesop’s forehead.

  “I don’t want to hear about ‘hero’s portions’ and ‘duels to the death.’” He grinned. “I just want to share a meal with people I care about.” His eyes moved to Dana. “People who are important to me.”

  “Amen to that,” Bremby said, and lifted his glass. “Life’s too short to worry about anything else.”

  “All right.” Aesop shook his head. “I’ll be quiet.” He smiled. “But you’re missing a great story about Lóegaire Búadach…”

  He ducked as three chunks of bread came flying his way.

  “Hey!” Bivens pushed his way into the tent causing everyone to stiffen. After all, the computer geek had been left at his screen as a sentry—if he was here, there was probably trouble on the way.

  “No!” He shook his head as he saw the worried looks on his friends’ faces. “There’s nothing wrong, honest. I just…” He turned to Dana. “I think I found their missing missile.”

  He shrugged at the look Flame and Dana gave him. “I had a little time. Hey, the monitoring is mostly automated—I can’t just sit there and watch the same slice of empty ground all the time. I need something to keep me occupied.”

  “Go ahead.” Dana hid a smile.

  “Well.” He turned to his computer and punched in a code. “I’ve been checking out all the over-flight info from around the time the two drones lost contact with their base. There wasn’t much until I found this…” He hit the ‘ENTER’ key and a very pixilated image appeared on the screen. “I used one of the NSA programs to enhance this…” Another series of keystrokes yielded a better picture, one that clearly showed two indistinct forms flying over a very familiar chunk of desert.

  “Now watch this.” On the screen, one of the flying objects suddenly jinked to the left—and struck the other object. There was a flash of flame…

  And Bivens froze the frame.

  “See this?” He zoomed in closer and enhanced the image again. The watchers could now make out two drones, their wings interlaced with something bright coming out from underneath, “I think that’s your missile,” he said, and pointed at the flash. “I think it fired when the two drones collided in mid-air.”

  “Where did you find this?” Marmor was leaning forward as far as he could, his eyes locked on the screen image. “We checked every bit of available satellite data…”

  “This came from the ISS.” He glanced at the crowd behind him. “The International Space Station. They keep a camera on continuous Earth watch for students and science nerds—I happened to notice that their orbit carried them over the mid-east on the day in question and took a chance that they might have gotten a look at the drones.” He nodded toward the screen. “Turns out they did.”

  “Can you trace the trajectory of the missile?”

  “Already did.” He pulled back to his screen and released the freeze. “It goes right into this mountain…” He watched with the others as the bright flash did just that. “I assume it disintegrated on contact.”

  “Yes.” Marmor nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.” He sat back in his chair. “How did we miss that?”

  “Eric is very good at analyzing satellite imagery.” Dana put a hand on her friend’s back. “He was the best in both CIA and NSA.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No.” Marmor stood. “She’s right. None of our analysts even thought about the ISS.” He shook his head. “I’m going to have to talk to them about that.” He turned to Dana. “This means that your contract has been completely fulfilled. On behalf of Sinope, I want to thank you.” He smiled. “And say that I hope you’ll work with us again if we need you.”

  “Of course.” Dana returned his smile. “There’s nothing we like better than taking on an entire military unit to protect an object that was completely destroyed nearly four years ago.”

  “Ouch.” Marmor shook his head. “I deserved that.”

  “You did.” She held out her hand. “Still friends?”

  “Friends.” He grasped her fingers, and bent to kiss her hand in a very European style. “I assume you’ll be moving out tomorrow?”

  “I think that’s likely.”

  “Can we tag along?” He nodded toward Flame. “I think the girls would feel safer.” He smiled again. “I know I would.”

  “Of course.” She stood up. “Get your gear packed—we leave at first light.”

  “First light.” He sketched out a salute and said, “Yes ma’am,” then headed out of the C&C van.

  “Think they’ll contact us again?”

  “Soon, I think.” Dana stood and headed for the hatch. “Unless I miss my guess, those people have their fingers in a whole lot of pies—and they need someone like us to keep them from getting those fingers lopped off.”

  Together, they headed back to the main tent and the party that was still going on…

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE INDIAN OCEAN, NORTHEAST OF MADAGASCAR

  Edward Said stood at the stern of the East Wind quietly smoking a cigarette. The talks had gone quite well—far better than he had hoped when he agreed to this unusual mission.

  Perhaps distancing ourselves from both our own lands and those of our ‘allies’ has been a good thing, he thought. Certainly it has freed my Israeli friend to think, as the Americans are fond of saying, outside the box.

  That sort of thinking had led the two men to discover ways in which their people might be able to find reconciliation—if both were willing to make concessions.

  Of course, he fears that I am not bargaining in good faith, Said thought. I worry about that as well. Certainly I like to believe that any agreement I make will be honored by those I work for but I know—as he does—that such has not always been the case in the past.

  He sighed. We must keep trying! He glanced out over the glass-calm sea. It is the only way the endless war between us will ever be resolved.

  A light caught his eye. Is that another ship? He leaned out, peering into the darkness. He shook his head. No, we are far out of the normal shipping lanes. It must be a trick of the moon on the water. He flipped his cigarette into the sea. I must get some sleep. He turned back toward the central area of the ship and his cabin. Tomorrow is likely to be another busy day.

  Far in the distance, a trim little boat changed course. Its lookout had spotted the glowing red spot of a cigarette in the darkness. It was enough to get a bearing. Now they hurried to intercept the small yacht before it got too far away…

  ***

  Flame cursed as he knelt in the fetid water of his ongoing nightmare. The room was once again dark as pitch with not even a crack to lend some illumination.

  Who’s coming to see me, he wondered. Who has something to say? He gripped the M4 in his hands so hard they hurt—and flinched when the door across from him suddenly opened, allowing some moonlight to filter into the room.

  A girl stood there—one who was familiar to Flame. She looked right into his eyes, her face resigned, and shook her head. Then, as he watched, a red line suddenly appeared around her neck, widened until…

  Her head fell, bouncing through the door and rolling slowly to a stop at his feet.

  “You let me die,” it said, sad eyes staring into his. “You could have saved me.”

  “I couldn’t.” Flame shook his head. “If I tried…”

  “You failed.” The dead eyes bored into his soul. “You failed me, you let me die.” The eyes moved, turning toward the door. “You will fail her as well.”

  Flame turned toward the door, afraid of what he would see.

  Kimberly stood there, gazing at him, face full of hope…

  Hope that disappeared from view as the door slammed shut and Flame woke up, his sheet soaked in sweat…

  ***

  “Did you talk to that girl yet?” Dana asked when Flame arrived in the office later that morning. “It’s been nearly two weeks and you gave me your word…”

  “Don’t bug me about it right now.” He brushed past her heading for his desk. “Just leave me alone. I’ll work it out.”

  “Flame,” She followed him. “Just look at yourself! You’re not sleeping, your nerves are in tatters.” She shook her head. “Just go and see her—even if it’s only to break up with her.”

  “I can’t.” Flame turned to her, eyes tortured. “I can’t do that. I need her…”

  “Then tell her that!”

  “I’m afraid…”

  The word stopped Dana in her tracks. This man has never been afraid in his life, she thought. He’s gone up against enormous odds without a trace of fear over and over again—I’ve seen him do it!

  She took his hands in hers. “Flame, is there anything…”

  He shook his head and stood. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he told her. “I’ll take a run or maybe I’ll visit Manny or Gino or…”

  He hurried out of the office leaving Dana open-mouthed. He’s getting worse, she realized. I’ve got to do something!

  She turned to her own desk. Maybe a mission will show up. She remembered how easily he’d slept the first few days after their return from Iraq. Something that will let him get rid of some tension. She sighed. If only he’d just go see Kimberly. She might be able to help him.

  The phone rang just then, drawing Dana back to her normal workday. She had bills to pay, contracts to create. Flame’s problem would have to wait.

  ***

  Flame spent most of the morning running. He ran his usual route up the George Washington Parkway but instead of turning back at the cemetery, he kept going, running past the Iwo Jima monument and through McLean before finally turning back and retracing his steps. When he got to Arlington National, he jogged inside and found Manny’s grave.

  He needed someone to talk to.

  “I don’t know what to do, man.” He stared down at the simple stone that marked his friend’s final resting place. “I need her—I know I need her.” He shook his head. “But I’m so scared that she’ll get hurt if she spends time around me. I mean, we had this great vacation on this beautiful island—just the two of us—and what happens?”

  Memories flooded over him: the storm, the beached tanker, the band of Jihadists killing everyone on the island.

  “I took care of them. I always find a way to take care of people like that.” He saw Kimberly standing beside him, saw her scream a warning. Saw her get shot, falling to the deck of the ship…

  “But I couldn’t take care of her! I let her get hurt so badly…”

  He stared at his friend’s grave. “What do I do, man? What’s the right thing to do?”

  There was no answer.

  “Come on!” He dropped to his knees and slammed his hand down onto the stone. “Help me, man! I need your help!”

  Nothing.

  Flame stayed there for a moment, and then shook his head sadly. “I get it, man.” He stood. “You can’t help me.” He began to walk away. “Nobody can help me.”

  A few minutes later he was back running along the Washington Parkway, retracing his earlier path, all worries temporarily forgotten as endorphins flooded his system bringing something akin to peace in their wake…

  ***

  Dana was the first person to reach the office the next morning—a rarity occasioned by the fact that Eric Bivens’ mother was in town and he had taken the day off to give her a tour of the various monuments.

  It was odd to be the one to unlock the door and turn on the lights, but she was happy for Eric. He didn’t have a lot of friends and this visit meant…

  She heard a creak from her office. Instantly, her hand went to the Smith & Wesson M&P Shield that lived in a belt holster at the small of her back, drawing the weapon and releasing the safety in one practiced motion…

  “You won’t need that,” said a familiar voice from within the office.

  “Marmor!” Dana scowled at the ex-intelligence agent. “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “We need your help,” he told her, cocking his head to one side. “And that of your friends as well.”

  Dana holstered her pistol. “Tell me.” She looked at the rotund man. “But first,” she said, gesturing. “Get the hell out of my chair!”

  ***

  Flame didn’t get back to his apartment until the middle of the afternoon. Dana’s urgent call to the office was waiting. He took a few moments to shower than used the not-yet-jammed-by-government-workers Metro system to make his way into the District.

  Aesop was waiting for him when he got to the office.

  “You look like shit, man.” The big ex-SEAL stared at Flame’s deep-set eyes and the bags under them. “You gotta talk to that girl.”

  “I’ll do it in my own time,” he snarled. “Now what the hell does Dana have that’s so urgent?”

  “Come in.” His partner opened the door to the conference room. “And we’ll show you.”

  Flame was surprised to find that Dana was not alone. “Sir.” He nodded to Admiral Dorrance who was sitting in the far right hand seat. “Mr. Marmor,” he said with a nod to the rotund Sinope member in the seat that Dana usually filled. She had moved to Bivens’ accustomed place.