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Mason’s Aces Book1

C ommander Mason Callister stared out the window, his hands crossed behind his back. On this first day in his brand-new office, the room felt empty and hollow. It wasn’t his yet; he didn’t fit the space, and neither did the space fit him. Mason heard a noise behind him, several other noises going on around him, inside and outside. It would take a bit to get used to the new location, to the larger office, and to the huge desk—as if the size were in direct proportion to the power he now wielded. And then there was the title,… plus the responsibility that went with it. But, to Mason, it was more about the priceless intangibles that this office represented. He stared down at his hands, wondering whether he was good enough for this.

It was a new stage—a new beginning. It had been months since he’d been released from the hospital, a time in which Tesla had given birth to their second child, an absolutely gorgeous daughter, and he couldn’t have been happier. During those months, he had managed several times to push back retired Navy Commander Doran Magellan until Doran had finally said, “No more waiting.”

So here Mason was, facing another turning point in his career. Sure, Doran had said that Mason could go out on missions anytime he wanted, but he also knew that things were changing. He was changing. In truth, it was time for a change. Black Ops but not. Special Division but not. He was curious to see how this new beginning would turn out. Doran would say it was no different than all the work Mason had been doing for decades. So the same but different.

Doran was Mason’s sole boss, but no one could know. Doran was the only one with full knowledge of what Mason was doing—the why, the where, the who. He glanced down at his watch. In fifteen minutes, his handpicked team would arrive, men who he had worked with, men who he trusted.

The trouble was, he still didn’t necessarily understand what this was. Doran had left this team’s overall mission guidelines very open, just saying it was Special Ops, and he needed Mason to head it. But then this morning, Doran sent a message that he needed Mason now , today, to pick a team, to be ready to go immediately, and to expect that to be the norm from now on.

Mason shook his head, wondering how he could go from the peace and quiet, the joy and solitude at his wife’s side, adoring their newest addition to their family, and then jump right into this organized chaos. Yet he also knew that he wouldn’t have been called if there hadn’t been a need. And, whenever there was a need, he would always step up.

He did this work not just for his wife and for his children but for every other American as well. It was for a better future. It was for the highest good of the country. His commitment was there, front and center, always.

He gave a heavy sigh, as he turned to face the desk. His assistant would be in soon, also somebody Mason had worked with previously. And that was part of his conditional acceptance, that Mason’s men came first and foremost, that he had a team he could trust, that his people had his back as he navigated this new world. He’d made that abundantly clear. Doran had no qualms about giving Mason a free hand on that aspect either. Doran had agreed immediately, telling Mason to pick whomever he wanted. And that was a good thing. Mason had already picked the team for this first assignment.

He didn’t even know what this initial op was. Yet now he would be in that need-to-know loop. Details were on their way to him right now. Such a strange place to be, but one that he, in a way, was more comfortable with. The transparency of need-to-know also meant that Mason would deal with any related problems. That was a change. That would be, in some ways, challenging. Yet his actions would be double-checked by him and by him only, to confirm that he had the power to do what needed to be done.

No more red tape, no more battles for funds, for agreements, for signatures, all designed to put a monkey wrench in real-life problem-solving. Doran had assured Mason that his division would walk in the shadows, answering to no one but Doran, the man himself being the master of living in the dark. Maybe Mason should be worried about that.

And then again maybe not. Maybe it was for the best if none of them knew how this worked on Doran’s end. Because, dear God, when too many hands were in the pot, nothing ever got done. And Mason was a doer in this world, one, when assigned a task, who had it done on time, if not three hours early. And this would be no different. Mason looked forward to no more fights for equipment, for training, for all the things needed to make an optimum team more successful.

Just then came a knock on the door. He turned and called out, “Come in.”

His assistant poked his head inside, smiled, and came in with a thick file and six stapled copies, which he placed on the desk.

Mason nodded at his old friend Jeremy, somebody who had walked away from the field quite a few years ago after a couple major close calls came with injuries that kept him at a desk. This new position would still keep him doing what he loved the most, which was helping this country.

“Six, right?” he asked Mason.

“Yes, six for now, but I expect to have a total team of twelve, at least to start.”

“Good enough. If you want to give me the additional names, we can brief them now too.”

“Not yet,” Mason murmured. “Not until I see just what the scope of this one will be.”

Jeremy sighed. “It’ll be bad.”

“Hell, they’re all bad.” If they weren’t, no need to bring in Mason and his team.

“It’s always that way, and it always will be that way,” Jeremy agreed. “That’s one of the reasons we do what we do because nobody else can do this. It takes people like us. And that’s why I’m happy to be here serving with you, sir.” With a smile and a nod, Jeremy turned, opened the door, and let in the handpicked team.

Mason smiled as he studied the men as they entered. Mason had worked with these men in some of the most appalling conditions, where each one had steadfastly shown who they were, even in the worst of times.

“Take a seat, gentlemen. We don’t have much time. Review the briefs Jeremy is handing out. And let’s get started.”