Page 144 of Soul So Dark

“Bullshit,” he laughs.

“Straight up. Shit was so slow that they couldn’t issue it to us in time. It took four fucking months for supply to cycle around to us. Then when they realized we were buying our own, they spouted all this bullshit about how they couldn’t guarantee its effectiveness because it didn’t come from their approved supplier. Like it mattered if the alternative was raw-dogging it down range.”

Thatch tucks the scuffed-up sat phone into his pocket and throws open the driver’s side door with a roll of his eyes. Apparently, things really are the same all over.

It’s about a 10-minute drive to pick up Abd, the interpreter I’ve worked with for almost two years, then another 30 to pick up LaCrosse, who’s responsible for all operations in this province. There are plans to build a new road between two of the main shipping hubs here.

However, this particular road will run straight through a village sandwiched between two mountains, whose leadership has ties to rebel groups in the area. And that’s a problem, because the rebels here hate us. So, we escort people like LaCrosse to make a deal, usually involving money and access to aid and supplies.

I only care about these missions so far as I complete them, because that’s why they hired me. I left my honor back at home on the same hanger as my dress blues. Mercenaries don’t get military honors when they’re killed. To be clear, I’m here for the money. That’s it. It’s the fastest way to get what I want with the skills that I have.

I’ve come full circle, though. I spent the better part of four years in cyber intelligence only to voluntarily end up doing patrols and serving as an armed escort. Not that I don’t get to use other skills I’ve picked up along the way. No one on my team speaks Arabic, but I do, at least enough to blend in when I need to.

I assume this will be a relatively quick trip, as usual. The second vehicle behind us hangs back on the outskirts of the village while we continue on. No less than six men are waiting outside the brick and adobe house. They’re dressed like locals, but carry semi-automatic weapons. Moments later, another man emerges from the house to meet us. Abd finishes telling me how he’s going to wipe the floor with me at the next poker game and then, in the same breath, turns to greet him with exuberance.

The house is on the ostentatious side for the area, but it’s also to be expected. Favors are favors, and the more you curry it, the better off you are. Alliances are fluid, much more so than anyone would like to admit, and not limited to tribal communities or war zones.The enemy of my enemy is my friend.Back home, we call it corruption, but elsewhere it’s necessary for survival. And it can change by the second.

The man leads us through the house, to a room where the sheik is waiting. Two more men wait with him; one standing just off to the side and the other next to the door. Pleasantries exchanged, Thatch and I step back as LaCrosse begins the meeting. It goes like any other; back and forth, hemming and hawing, gripes and commiserating…

“I have authorization for a four-year investment.” Code for a cash influx. “And we’ll supply your security force.” Code for an arms deal.

After six years, I’ve perfected my dead-behind-the-eyes look, which is why when I pick up on the change in Abd’s tone and him using phrases that have no business in this conversation, I start paying more attention. I catch Thatch’s eye on the other side of LaCrosse. I don’t have to move a muscle, but he understands.

This isn’t a negotiation anymore, all but confirmed when I hear one word.

Liar.

“Abd.” He goes quiet at the unexpected sound of my voice.

The guy by the door quietly turns to grab the knob and my eyes meet Thatch’s for a split-second before he draws his firearm and shouts for him to step back. I catch movement in my periphery and draw my Glock before a deafening shot rings out. I pull the trigger as LaCrosse falls to the floor. Another shot, and blood spatters onto the wall behind the sheik before he collapses onto the tile.

Shit.I killed the fucking sheik.This will not go over well.

I pivot as someone lunges at me and a bowie knife slices through the air, right between my vest and my shoulder. The blade tears through my shirt and across my chest, but then catches on my vest, ripping it from his grasp. I throw my elbow, clocking him in the jaw before another two shots ring out and he stumbles back and falls to the floor.

I lunge forward and grab Abd by the collar of his shirt and shove him to his knees next to LaCrosse’s groaning body. He starts pleading as I take aim at his forehead, trying to convince me he didn’t just tell the now deceased leader of this village that LaCrosse would screw him over and taking him hostage would be a more lucrative endeavor. I’m sure Abd had a price in mind for his traitorous efforts.

There’s a bang and our eyes dart to the hallway, where muffled yells drift in from outside. Then, another bang against the front door.

“It won’t hold for long,” Abd warns, as if it’ll deter me from executing him right here.

“Neither will your head!” I shout, taking aim again.

Everyone’s seen what can happen to hostages, especially contractors. Grotesque images of unrecognizable bodies immortalized as graphic testaments to the strength of ideology. And, suddenly, I no longer care about Abd betraying us, we just have to get out of here. Now.

“Alex!” Thatch barks as he rushes to LaCrosse.

I look down at the blood seeping through my shirt and I know it’s only a matter of time before the entire village descends on this place like locusts.

I lower my weapon and quickly help Thatch hoist LaCrosse up. He’s bleeding like hell, but still alive, for now.

“Isn’t there a cellar?” Thatch asks.

“With a door in the back,” I confirm, giving a nod across the hall.

As soon as I slam the door behind us, I see a 2x4 leaning against the wall beneath a couple of metal brackets to create a makeshift lock. Apparently, someone else thought this would make a good escape route. After firmly barricading the door, we nearly tumble down the stairs in our hurry to find the cellar door. But when we do, we’re met with an ominous sight.

Another 2x4 barricades the door, except this one is bolted in place.