part0045

C ommand Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson started flipping the two-dozen burgers and equal number of hot dogs grilling over two oil drum barbecues, as Bravo Team and their families enjoyed a glorious spring day behind the Unit. He was the leader of the team, a group of elite Special Forces operators and part of 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta, commonly known as Delta Force.

A military family that had each other’s backs, and would do anything for their Unit and country, including laying down their lives.

But today, they were traditional family men. Some with wives and children, others with girlfriends, others chronically single like Sergeant Carl “Niner” Sung, putting on a hitting clinic with the kids.

Maggie Harris, his fiancée, left the table of better halves and joined him. “Need a hand?”

“I got it. How are you feeling?”

“A little tired.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No, but next time we have a barbeque to go to, I’m cutting you off at one go around.”

He grinned. “Sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Listen, when we get home, maybe—”

He held up a finger, cutting her off as he cocked an ear, catching the tail-end of a breaking news report. He pointed at the radio sitting on a nearby bench. “Somebody turn that up!”

Niner jogged over and cranked the volume, everyone stopping what they were doing except the kids.

“–are wanted in connection to the terrorist attack at the Guggenheim in Bilbao, Spain that has killed at least sixty and injured scores more.”

“Is the religion of peace behaving badly again?” asked Sergeant Leon “Atlas” James, his impossibly deep voice drowning out the radio.

Dawson shook his head. “No, I could have sworn they just said the Doc and his wife are responsible.”

“What?” exclaimed half those there. His entire team hauled out their phones and started tapping away, Dawson not bothering as he kept his attention on the burgers and hot dogs he was responsible for.

“Holy shit!” cried Sergeant Will “Spock” Lightman. “It says it right here. Professor James Acton and his wife Professor Laura Palmer, well-known animal rights radicals, are wanted in connection with the bombing of the Guggenheim Bilbao earlier today. Security footage shows the two escaping moments before the detonation that killed over sixty people gathered for the unveiling of a controversial Bible recently discovered in northern France. The Bible has been condemned by animal rights activists due to the fact it was hand-drawn on vellum, which is made from calfskin. Experts say the thousand-page Bible would have required the slaughter of at least five-hundred animals.” He looked up. “It goes on from there.”

Niner walked over. “I didn’t know the Doc was an animal rights extremist.”

Dawson shook his head. “He’s not. I’ve read his file. We’ve all read his file. Both of their files. Something doesn’t smell right.” His phone vibrated and he answered it. “Speak.”

“Hey, BD, it’s Dylan. Have you heard the news?”

“Yeah, assuming you’re talking about the Doc and his wife. It was just on the radio. What do you know?”

“Not much. Leroux is heading into the office to have his team check out that footage. We’re hoping it’s a deep fake, but then if it is, they might be dead.”

“Yeah, but if it’s not a fake, then it doesn’t make them look too good. Any thoughts on why they might have taken it?”

“No, I’m operating under the assumption that they’re completely innocent. All that we’ve been able to come up with is that they were either escaping to save themselves and they took the Bible to save it as well, or they were coerced into it.”

“Look at this,” said Niner, handing his phone to Dawson, the security footage in question playing.

“There’s a problem with one of your theories.”

“What’s that?” asked Kane.

“Where did they get the keys?”

“The keys. Where did they get them? He handed them to her before they drove away.”

“Huh. I missed that. Well, that definitely kills one of our theories, doesn’t it? If they weren’t saving themselves and the Bible, then that means they have to have been coerced.”

Dawson watched the footage again. “They haven’t turned themselves in yet, have they?”

“No, not as far as I know.”

“Well, that seems more in line with them being coerced by someone. We’re going to have to figure out who.”

“I’m heading to Spain now.”

“Nope. Got any leave coming to you?”

Dawson laughed. “I think I might have a day or two in the bank. I’ll talk to the colonel and see if I can get a few days off.”

“Sounds good. Maybe bring a few of the others with you. I have a funny feeling we might need more than two guns.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Can you equip us when we get there?”

Kane laughed. “Can I equip you? Have we met?”

Dawson chuckled. “I know, I know, I should realize you have weapons caches all over the damned world.”

“Well, I was a Boy Scout, and I do believe in being prepared.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a shout back once I get things arranged at this end.”

Dawson ended the call and faced his men, all gathered around him now.

“What’s the word?” asked Niner.

“I need three volunteers.”

Everybody raised a hand, including his young godson Bryson.

He smiled. “Why do you guys always make is so damned difficult. Okay, Niner, Atlas, Spock, and Bryson, you’re with me, assuming the colonel approves everything.”