Pressure Pointe

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Three Years Ago

The repetitive hum of the propeller helicopter blades echoed across the open sea as the sun began to dip low on the horizon.

Alex Sterling sat on the hard bench that ran lengthwise down the narrow body of the helicopter, leaning to peer out of the small window across from him. Alex was locked securely in place, but could still see Istanbul’s hazy advancing skyline below.

The world below looked calm from that height. He took a deep, calculated breath as turbulence rocked the metal cabin.

Alex never much cared for the big, dumpy cargo helos. They were loud, uncomfortable, and an eyesore. It wasn’t the subtlest of entrances.

The H-46 helicopter began its descent into the heart of the city. The air thickened with moisture as the helicopter approached the landing zone.

No one had much to say for the length of the flight, until they approached the city and the new guy started getting chatty.

Alex threw a glance over at Spencer Reyes, the youngest man the company ever hired.

He was a wiz kid, a Marine Intelligence Specialist who served his term and transferred to private contracting.

At first glance, Spencer didn’t seem like the type that would have made it even a quarter way through basic training.

He was skinny with thick glasses, clean-shaven, and out of place.

He was a tech kid, who happened to be a crack shot.

He kept asking questions, spiking Alex’s irritation.

“What’s the threat?” He practically had to yell over the sound of the aircraft.

Alex kept his face expressionless. “Bad guys.”

The answer was meant to make the guy feel stupid, but if he caught the insult, he didn’t let on.

“Yeah, I get that,” Spencer replied. “I mean, this sounds more like DSS territory, is all. They protect the consulates that are red-flagged. Why send us in for a diplomat recovery?”

“With the state of the world, they’re taking zero chances.” Alex’s voice rose over the din. “Plus, diplomacy doesn’t always get the job done. You’d know that if you went over the mission notes.”

Spencer pursed his lips, frowning at Alex.

The Diplomatic Security Service was backed by the US government, while all private military contractors were considered more mercenary backup if anything else.

Alex didn’t mind being deemed an unlawful combatant in whatever country he was in, but he didn’t feel the need to school the new guy on it, either.

After showing his potential as a Navy SEAL, Alex became a private military contractor at the suggestion of his stepfather who had connections in the field.

Despite his company having contracts in various hot zones, Alex didn’t factor in unprecedented political division sparking a full-on loyalty war within the system.

Now when his team was sent somewhere, there was an extra layer of tension.

“Kind of a touchy subject,” another man spoke up, turning his head to the men.

Alex shifted his attention to his best friend, Lance Attebury. Lance adjusted his Kevlar vest before giving his neck a crack.

“Why?” Spencer asked.

“Long story,” Lance replied.

“We’re security contractors.” Alex threw his friend a look to shut him up. “Not the CIA.”

One of the helicopter crewmen reached out and slid open the side door, even though the aircraft hadn’t yet landed.

He didn’t seem to think it was a safety hazard for the four-man security team that sat in a row along the opposite wall.

He lifted three fingers into the air, signaling they would be landing in three minutes.

Alex glanced to his right, noting that his fourth officer, Roland Wrightworth, was asleep under a lowered black baseball cap that partially hid his face.

He was the only man Alex knew who could sleep under any condition, including being stuck in a metal canister bumping and shaking its way into hostile territory.

He poked Roland in his side to wake him. The man lifted his cap lazily, rolling his eyes at Alex. “I’m up.”

“I love that this counterterrorism shit bores you,” Alex chided.

Roland yawned and ran a hand through his graying hair before replacing the baseball cap.

The aircraft bounced again, this time dropping quickly before evening out. Alex felt his stomach churn a bit. As much time he spent in cargo helos, the rough rides never got easier.

Lance pointed to the dimming horizon. “That gonna be a problem?”

Alex looked out the door to the dark clouds moving in from the distant mountains.

The helo was still on course. The pilot hadn’t said anything about the storm, and Alex hadn’t received orders to stand down. They’d go in, pick up, and get out before the weather got worse.

“Turbulence is bad.” Spencer stated the obvious.

Alex noted Spencer’s nervousness as the young man shifted in his seat, wiping a thin layer of sweat from his brow. He wasn’t hard to read. The guy had been recommended to the company due to his expertise, but he hadn’t been in the field much, and was still a little twitchy.

“It’ll be fine,” Alex assured him. “It’s not a war zone. You’ve got this. Get in, get off, get out. First round’s on me once we’re back at base.”

Spencer looked like he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not.

“That’s Sterling for you.” Lance unhooked his safety harness. “Not very endearing, but practical.”

Alex’s attention shifted to the open door. The ground was getting closer, and he could see the consulate clearly.

The massive reinforced concrete building sat on top of a small hill, looming over the rest of the area like a watchdog. Alex wasn’t familiar with the layout, and as he gazed down at the freshly manicured front lawn, an uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

The India Company 3rd Battalion currently protected the American embassy building, if Alex remembered correctly.

The Marines were stationed in high-risk embassies for interior guard work.

Alex knew the drill. Istanbul hadn’t been a source of conflict until recently.

There was some sort of alert, and he was just there to get escort the ambassador out until things calmed down. He’d let the Marines handle the rest.

He looked back down the row as the others lined up, checking their equipment and weapons, ready to debark and secure the area. He enjoyed this part. He liked the rush of adrenaline that enveloped his spine before a mission start.

Three. Two. One. Alex counted down the moment the helicopter contacted the ground. He pushed out quickly, surveying the darkening area. The other three men followed suit.

An armed man in fatigues stepped up to the group quickly as the propeller blades died down.

“Gentlemen.” The man didn’t bother to hold out a hand. “Warrant Officer Harris is waiting for you.” He gave everyone a stern once-over. “Please follow me.”

Alex and Lance exchanged glances before motioning for the others to follow.

Marines never hid their distain for private contractors.

It had something to do with the whole “you were military, but you copped out for more money to feed your renegade-cowboy ego” type of mind-set.

Alex never got the animosity. Marines had an airtight brotherhood, but Alex still prided himself on loyalty to his men.

He couldn’t argue that he was in it for the money, though. It was a nice perk.

The man led them up a short hill and into the building to the second floor.

The building was warmer inside than it was outside, like someone had shut off the air conditioning.

The florescent lights were off, and the windows were open, utilizing what little sunlight was left.

Various staff members passed by, keeping their gaze forward, trying not to look hurried.

It was unusually quiet, making the low tone that always hummed in Alex’s ears from years of firefights more prevalent.

Alex couldn’t shake the strange sense of foreboding as they made their way farther into the consulate. At each window he passed, he noted that the thick storm clouds had moved closer.

He leaned close to Lance as they approached a double door at the end of the hall. “Something feels off.”

“You mean, other than the air?” Lance replied. “It’s, like, ninety percent humidity in here.”

Thunder rumbled, accenting his statement.

“It’s quiet too,” Roland commented. “There aren’t any sounds. Like phones, or white noise, or…”

“Power’s off.” Alex kept his attention forward. “Could be a grid down, or just a routine outage.”

“Or shit’s about to hit the fan,” Spencer muttered.

“Why you have to be so pessimistic, Reyes?” Roland asked. “I swear, if you just jinxed us, I’ll kill you.”

Alex kept quiet as he told himself that no major attack had befallen the consulate before, but to expect the unexpected. The area’s threats usually consisted of protestors getting out of hand. Protestors were a minimal issue.

They were ushered into a room where three men stood, talking near a desk. They all stopped and looked over at Alex. Two were well-dressed in business suits, and the other was a Marine. Alex quickly accessed them, recognizing one as the US Ambassador to Turkey.

“Alex Sterling.” The closest man held out his hand. “I’m Warrant Officer Harris. This is Ambassador Charles Pace, and his consul, Mikael Rush.”

Alex shook each man’s hand while his team stood back. He was the point of contact in this business deal. No one else needed an introduction.

Harris turned back to the men. “Alex, here, is Edward North’s kid.”

Charles’s and Mikael’s eyebrows rose in curiosity, both clearly knowing the name.

“Legally.” Alex straightened himself up to his full six feet. “He was married to my mother.”

Mikael cleared his throat, seemingly unsure of what to say. “I’m sure if you learned even a fraction of his good service, you’re the top of your game.”

Alex frowned at the man. Edward North was a retired Navy captain, and Alex worked hard to stay out of his shadow. It was a touchy subject for a variety of reasons, and he didn’t appreciate being called kid—especially by some jarhead warrant officer.