Chapter 1 Man Down #3
Instead of slowing down, Teddy increased his speed and caught up to Farquin.
He then made like was going to pass him, but instead he veered right and tapped the other vehicle’s left rear fender.
Farquin’s car spun two hundred and seventy degrees, flipped, then rolled twice, ending up on the embankment.
Teddy glanced in the rearview mirror. They were alone. He slammed on the brakes, drove onto the shoulder, made a hard U and floored it, coming to an abrupt stop behind the wrecked car.
The road was pitch dark, not a car coming in either direction. Rather than shine his lights on the other car, he killed them, grabbed his helmet, and pushed out of the vehicle. After strapping it on, he lowered the goggles before pulling his weapon.
He’d been chasing ghosts, eager to get his hands on a Haqazzii terrorist. His patience was about to pay off, and he could not fucking wait.
Glock drawn, he approached the vehicle with caution. The airbag had deployed, Farquin was slumped over the steering wheel, not moving. Teddy opened the passenger door.
“Hey, asshole, you alive?” Teddy ground out.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” Farquin hissed as he opened the driver’s side door.
Teddy strode around the car as Farquin struggled to unbuckle. As soon as he did, he pushed out of the vehicle.
“Arms up,” Teddy commanded, his Glock drawn.
Farquin’s lips split into a crazed smile. “Fuck you, American,” he said as he pulled a handgun.
BANG! BANG!
Teddy shot him in the guts.
“AAAAIIIIIEEEEE, FUCK!” Farquin reared back, blood darkening his shirt.
Teddy shoved him onto the grassy area. Stumbling backward, Farquin fell. The second he hit the ground, Teddy grabbed his weapon.
“Last chance,” Teddy growled. “Where. Is. Muhammed?”
Farquin pressed his hand against his bloodied midsection. “I know who you are.”
Teddy didn’t give a fuck.
“Get me an ambulance,” Farquin hissed.
“Where’s the terror cell?”
“Not here.”
“Three,” Teddy growled.
“They’re going to finish the job,” Farquin hissed.
“Of blowing up federal buildings? Epic fail.”
“Something else.”
“What?”
“Power to Haqazzii.”
Teddy glanced up and down the quiet road. In the distance, headlights signaled it was time to end this.
“Two,” Teddy growled.
“You will die. Then, we kill your team. When you are all dead, we are going after the big one. The one where we bring America to its fucking knees. Death and destruction to America.”
“No, asshole, death to terrorists.”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Lifeless eyes stared up at Teddy. He hated killing, fucking hated it.
But this was the job he’d signed up for when he committed to keeping his country safe.
He found Farquin’s cell phone in his jacket pocket and held it up to the dead man’s face.
The screen unlocked and Teddy toggled to Settings, turned off the password and the facial recognition needed to unlock the phone.
The oncoming vehicle was seconds away, so Teddy knelt, head down. If the driver stopped, it was all over.
Relief washed over him when the car sped past. Once inside the rental car, Teddy removed his helmet, and drove away. At the first opportunity to turn off the state road, he did.
Using Farquin’s phone, he opened the map app. After a quick search, he found what could be Farquin’s home address. Following the directions, he headed back onto State Road 79.
Twenty minutes later, he turned into an industrial area that looked like a damn ghost town. An abandoned strip mall, then a small building with boarded-up windows and a large sign.
TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT
A smile tugged on the corners of Teddy’s mouth.
My kinda place.
He killed the headlights and drove another half a mile until a lone house—at the end of the road—loomed into view. No lights on, inside or out. The rundown structure could be filled with Haqazzii terrorists or Farquin could have been working there alone.
Teddy had no fucking idea.
If he were playing it safe, he’d leave. The mission would be placed on pause until BLACK OPS arrived. The problem with that? It would give any terrorists living there plenty of time to escape.
Not happening.
He reached into his duffle, pulled out an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle and a smoke grenade.
On went his helmet, before pushing silently out of the car, and lowering the goggles.
Determination pumped through his veins. For the past several months, his sole objective had been to find and eliminate this group of terrorists hellbent on killing as many innocents as possible.
Payback time.
While the GPS tracker showed this to be the place where Farquin had been hiding out, Teddy needed confirmation.
In stealth mode, he moved toward the house.
He could be walking into a full-on ambush or the home could be set to blow if anyone breached its doors.
Were women and children living there or was this a red herring, designed to throw him off their trail?
He eyed the boarded-up window and the front door that hung lopsided on its hinges.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Teddy hit the cold, hard ground as shots whizzed past him, one grazing his shoulder. He glanced around for cover. Seconds later, he was hiding behind the lone oak tree in the yard, the trunk offering him partial protection.
Do it.
He stepped out from behind the tree and rocketed the smoke grenade toward the front window, shattering the glass as it sailed through. Seconds later, thick black smoke billowed from the building.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
With a gun in hand, someone came flying out the front door, coughing hard as he fell to the ground. “What the hell!” he bleated between phlegmy breaths.
Teddy aimed his semi-automatic at the man. “Toss the weapon, get on your knees. Arms over your head.”
After tossing the gun, the man pushed onto his knees and raised his arms over his head. “If you kill me, I will die an honorable death. I will be hailed a hero in heaven.”
“You lost your ticket to heaven when you became a terrorist and slaughtered thousands of innocents.”
“Did you kill Farquin?”
Teddy recognized the man as one of Haqazzii’s loyal soldiers, Al-Rahayal. He was considered an expert bomb maker and one of the masterminds behind The Day of Destruction.
“How does it feel to fail?” Teddy growled.
In the black of night, the terrorist’s freakish grin sent anger streaking through Teddy. “You will know that soon enough. We have moved on to something even greater, and this time, we cannot fail. We will be heroes.”
Teddy swept his gaze over the house. He had no idea if Al-Rahayal was stalling so other terrorists inside the building could weapon up. But the area remained silent.
“When we cut off the head of the eagle, it cannot fly. Then, we will finish the job we started. Haters of democracy and counties that loathe your country will make their move when America falls. It will be overtaken by powerful people.” A smugness filled his face.
“It’s bigger than me or you, my friend.”
Someone wearing a gas mask charged outside, and started shooting.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Teddy returned fire— BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!— unleashing retribution into both men.
Silence.
Blessed silence while Teddy waited, his semi-automatic at the ready.
Teddy checked the first terrorist. Gone. Then, the second, a woman. Her soulless eyes staring up at him.
Wasn’t expecting that.
After confirming she was dead, he snapped pics of both, then stood in the doorway of the dilapidated structure. Holding his breath, he took in what he could see through the already grainy night-vision goggles.
The small room held two long tables filled with bomb-making supplies—mounds of nails, cardboard boxes with red antistatic plastic bags containing the explosive hexogen, wire, blasting caps, and burner phones. There were two metal folding chairs and a prayer rug in the corner.
After taking a few more photos, he turned on his heel and he left.
In the car, he texted the pilot and copilot.
Back in forty-five minutes to an hour
Seconds later, the copilot replied.
We’ll head to the plane and ready her for departure
He opened his compass app, displaying his GPS coordinates, snapped a photo of the screen and texted it to his brother Greystone Santini.
While driving back to the airport, Teddy’s phone rang.
“Hey,” Teddy answered.
“How’d it go?” Greystone asked.
“Three down,” Teddy replied.
“Three? Nice work.”
“Two of the eleven,” Teddy clarified. “The third was a woman. We need a priority-one hazmat cleanup.”
“Got it. Are you okay?”
Silence.
Teddy never knew how to answer that. Of course, he wasn’t okay. He’d just killed three people. But he was there to take out the enemy, so he’d keep his emotions in check.
“Theodore, parlami fratello. Stai bene? Talk to me, brother. Are you okay?”
“All good,” Teddy replied.
“You weren’t hit, were you?”
“Bullet grazed my shoulder.”
“Need a doc?”
“I’m good.”
“Who was the woman?”
“Non lo so. I don’t know. I’m headed to the airport. Once I’m in the bird, I’ll upload the pics, then run her face through IDware.”
“Did they say anything?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell you in person.”
“Tomorrow?” Greystone asked.
“I’ll swing by,” Teddy replied. “It’s been a long four months.”
“Sarà bello riaverti qui. It’ll be good to have you back here.”
“It’ll be good to be home.”
The call ended, and Teddy refocused his thoughts on finding Muhammed Haqazzii and the eight remaining lieutenants in his terror cell. Teddy was up for the task, up for whatever challenges he’d face.
After returning the rental car, he headed over to charter flights. Before climbing the stairs to the plane, he glanced over his shoulder. Though he didn’t see anyone, he couldn’t help but feel like eyes were on him, hiding in the shadows, stalking his every damn move.
He was hunting down the men responsible for The Day of Destruction and, he was fully aware, they were hunting him and the BLACK OPS team with the exact same vengeance.
For this mission, it was kill or be killed.
In the bird, he removed his body armor, then got busy uploading the pics. His phone buzzed with a text.
It was from a woman he’d met for drinks several months earlier.
Hey Tank drinks sometime? Dinner?
Rather than respond, he scrolled down until he found the unanswered texts from Sydney Austin. He’d met her when she’d thrown her sister, Caroline, a surprise party at the Santini family restaurant back in April.
Damn, that was six months ago.
He’d been crazy attracted to her, but after sending her some texts—three, to be exact—and not hearing back, he stopped. He thought she was interested. He’d been wrong.
But he was finally heading home, and he wanted to see her.
He typed out a text, then deleted it.
Don’t be a pussy.
A smile ghosted across his lips, and he retyped the message.
Hey Sydney got time to grab a drink with me?
He sent it.
As the jet sailed down the runway and lifted off the ground, Teddy glanced out the window into the darkness. His thoughts drifted to the three people he’d killed, and he shook his head.
What have I become?
A monster, the one under the bed.
I’m the fucking boogeyman.