Chapter 8 Connections #3
"That's intentional. Beth's situation is sensitive. But I trust her. And more importantly, she might have connections to organizations that operate in the trafficking rescue space."
Ghost said slowly, "The team that was in that compound."
"Maybe. Worth asking."
Hawk considered it. Reaching out to someone outside the chain of command was risky. Especially a civilian. Could get them all in serious trouble if it went wrong. But sitting here doing nothing while Steele was God knows where getting God knows what done to him wasn't acceptable either.
"Make the call," Hawk said.
Bulldog pulled out his personal cell phone. The one that didn't route through military networks. The one he kept for exactly this kind of situation when official channels weren't going to cut it. "I'll call Sledge first. See if Beth's up for talking. She doesn't do well with surprises or pressure."
He stepped outside the team bay where the conversation wouldn't be monitored by whoever was responsible for watching communications at Erbil.
The door closed behind him. Through the small window, they could see him pacing.
Talking. Gesturing with his free hand the way he did when he was making a point.
Ghost watched him go. "This could blow up in our faces."
"Could," Hawk agreed. "But doing nothing definitely gets Steele killed. I'll take the chance."
"Colonel finds out we're running unauthorized contacts with civilians, he'll have our asses."
"Only if he finds out."
"That's a big if."
Hawk's voice was flat. Final. "Then we make sure he doesn't. We've all done things off the books before. This isn't any different."
Joker pushed off from the wall. "Except usually when we go off the books, we're in the field. Not sitting on a U.S. military base where every communication is monitored and logged."
"Bulldog's using his personal phone. No military routing. As far as anyone knows, he's calling his buddy back home."
Risk said quietly, "To ask about his buddy's traumatized girlfriend. That's a hell of a favor."
"It is," Hawk agreed. "But if anyone can help us find that team, it's someone who's been on the other side of this kind of operation."
They waited. Five minutes became ten. Hawk could see Bulldog through the window, still talking, still pacing.
Whatever conversation he was having with Sledge, it was taking longer than a quick favor request. That could be good.
Could mean Sledge was already bringing Beth into the loop.
Or it could be bad. Could mean he was explaining why this was too much to ask.
Ten minutes became twenty. Ghost monitored communications traffic that didn't tell them anything new.
Risk reorganized his medical supplies for the third time, the familiar ritual keeping his hands busy while his mind worked through scenarios.
Joker stood by the door like a sentry, watching the hallway for anyone who might wonder why five Delta operators were holed up in a team bay looking guilty.
Finally, Bulldog ended the call. Stood there for a moment staring at his phone. Then walked back inside, his expression carefully neutral. The kind of neutral that meant he was working hard not to show what he was feeling.
"Well?" Hawk asked.
"Sledge is talking to Beth. Says she's willing to help but needs to make some calls first. See if she can reach the people she thinks might know something."
Ghost repeated, "People. Not organization?"
"She was careful about what she said. But reading between the lines, she knows about a group that does trafficking rescue. Has a contact there. Someone she trusts."
"How long?" Hawk asked.
"Sledge said Beth would reach out to her contact immediately. Told me to sit tight and wait."
Risk shook his head. "Wait. That's all we've been doing."
"Then we wait some more," Hawk said. "Because right now it's the only play we have."
The hours crawled by. They gave the colonel his update, told him they were analyzing intelligence and coordinating with local assets.
All technically true. All carefully worded to avoid mentioning unauthorized contact with civilians.
The colonel had looked at them through the video feed like he knew they were up to something but couldn't prove it.
Told them to stay put. Stay ready. Wait for orders.
More waiting. Hawk hated waiting. Hated the feeling of helplessness that came with sitting on his hands while one of his own was in enemy hands.
He'd spent twenty years training to be the person who kicked down doors and solved problems. Waiting for someone else to solve this one went against every instinct he had.
Ghost was the one who noticed Bulldog's phone light up first. "Bulldog. You've got a message."
Bulldog grabbed his phone and read the screen. His expression didn't change but something in his posture shifted, a tension releasing that Hawk hadn't even realized was there. "Sledge says Beth made contact. Her friend is willing to talk."
Hawk was already moving, crossing the room to look over Bulldog's shoulder. "What kind of friend?"
"Someone named Quinn. Beth says she's the tech specialist for the group that pulled the civilians out of that compound."
Ghost stood up from his position by the window. "Tech specialist for a trafficking rescue operation?"
"Apparently. Beth vouched for her. Says Quinn's the real deal. Says if anyone knows what happened to Steele, she will."
Joker asked, "And she's willing to share that information?"
Bulldog scrolled through the message. "Beth says Quinn is already aware of our situation. Says her team saw what happened. Saw Steele get taken. They're working the problem on their end."
Risk asked, "Working the problem how?"
"Sledge didn't get specifics. Just said Quinn wanted to establish secure communication. She's sending contact protocols."
Hawk read over Bulldog's shoulder. "When?"
"Now. Beth's passing along an encrypted chat link. Says Quinn will make contact within the hour."
The implications settled over the room. A civilian tech specialist for an unauthorized rescue operation was about to make contact with five Delta operators on a U.S.
military base. If anyone was monitoring, if anyone caught wind of this, it would be a disaster.
But it was also more than they'd had an hour ago.
"What did you tell Sledge?" Hawk asked.
"Told him we're standing by. Told him we're ready to coordinate. Told him to thank Beth for taking the risk." Bulldog looked around at the team. "I didn't make any promises. Didn't commit us to anything. Just said we're looking for information about our guy."
"Good." Hawk nodded. "We keep this tight. No one outside this room knows we're running a parallel investigation."
Joker repeated, "Parallel investigation. That's what we're calling it?"
Hawk's voice was steel. "That's what we're calling it in front of anyone who asks. As far as the colonel knows, we're following orders. Standing down. Waiting for official channels to produce results."
"And unofficially?"
"Unofficially, we're doing what we've always done. Taking care of our own."
They all nodded. It was the kind of understanding that didn't need to be spelled out. The kind that came from years of operating together. The kind that said orders were important but loyalty was more important.
Bulldog's phone buzzed again. He looked at the screen. "Chat link is live. Quinn's online."
Ghost went back to his tablet. "I'll keep monitoring communications. If Nazari's people make any moves, we'll know."
"Bulldog, you handle the chat with Quinn. Find out what they know. What they saw. Where they think Steele might be."
"Copy."
"Risk, Joker, get some rest. We might need to move fast when this breaks and I want everyone sharp."
Risk stood. "You think they'll actually help us?"
"I think they were there for the civilians. I think they saw Steele buy them time to complete their extraction. And I think people who do that kind of work understand debt." Hawk looked at each of them. "They'll help. Question is whether we can coordinate well enough to make it work."
Bulldog opened the encrypted chat on his phone. The screen showed a simple interface. No names. No identifying information. Just a blinking cursor waiting for him to type. He started with the basics.
"This is Bulldog. Delta. Our guy went down covering your exfil. We need to find him."
The response came almost immediately. "Quinn. I know. We saw. Working on location now."
"You have intel?"
"Three possible sites. Running analysis. Will have confidence levels within six hours."
Bulldog looked up at Hawk and showed him the screen.
Hawk read it twice, then nodded once. "Ask if they're planning a rescue."
Bulldog typed. "Are you going in after him?"
The response took longer this time. Like Quinn was checking with someone. Or maybe just choosing her words carefully. "Our team lead wants to. Rest of us are on board. But we don't do combat rescue. This is outside our normal parameters."
"We do combat rescue," Bulldog typed. "It's exactly our parameters."
Another pause. Then: "Coordination would be difficult. You're military. We're not. Different rules. Different chains of command. Or in our case, no chain of command."
Bulldog showed Hawk again.
"Tell her we don't care about rules right now," Hawk said. "Tell her we care about getting our guy back."
Bulldog typed it word for word.
Quinn's response was immediate. "Understood. Stand by. My team lead will want to talk. Setting up secure video call. Will send link when ready."
Bulldog looked around the room. "We're going to video chat with a civilian rescue team while sitting on a U.S. military base. This is either brilliant or the stupidest thing we've ever done."
"Could be both," Joker said, and there was almost humor in his voice, the gallows humor of operators who'd learned to laugh at the absurd.
"Probably is both," Risk added.
Hawk didn't smile. "I don't care what it is as long as it gets us closer to Steele. Quinn says six hours for location analysis. That gives us time to plan. Time to prepare. Time to figure out how the hell we coordinate with a team we're not supposed to know exists."
"And if the colonel finds out?"
"Then we deal with it. But right now, I'd rather ask forgiveness than permission."
They settled in to wait. But this time the waiting felt different.
This time they weren't just sitting around hoping for something to break.
This time they had a connection. Had someone working the problem from a different angle.
Had the possibility of actionable intelligence within hours instead of days.
Somewhere in Louisiana, a woman named Quinn was working computers and databases and intelligence networks to find one American operator in a city of two million people.
Somewhere in that same compound, a team of women who rescued trafficking victims was deciding whether to risk everything to help five Delta operators they'd never met.
And somewhere in Mosul, a man named Steele was either alive or dead. Either waiting for rescue or already beyond saving.
Bulldog's phone stayed on the table. Screen lit.
Chat window open. Connected to people who shouldn't exist running operations that weren't authorized.
But sometimes that's what it took. Sometimes the official channels failed and you had to find another way.
Sometimes you had to trust strangers because they were the only ones who could help.
The night stretched on. And for the first time since Steele had vanished into the Iraqi darkness, they had something more than hope. They had a lead. They had allies. They had a chance.
And that was enough to keep going.