“Dude, do you ever sleep?”
Colonel Coulter “Colt” McKendrick, USA, Retired, didn’t bother to look up. He would know one of his best friend’s voices anywhere. “On occasion,” he replied, grateful for the interruption. “Between meditation and caffeine, I get the job done. I can show you the technique I use. It comes close to the benefits of sleep and shouldn’t take long to learn.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Major Neil “Tex-Mex” Wagner, USA, Retired, countered as he plopped down on his bunk. “I like my sleep the old-fashioned way,” he drawled. His Texan accent was purposefully thicker than usual.
“Suit yourself.”
“Hey, is that the Op order for Thursday?”
The operational order Coulter was working on laid out every detail for his team’s mission: What time they would move out, how many weapons they would take, vehicles needed, tactical and additional gear necessary to get the job done.
“Yep,” Coulter said. “Sources confirmed that the meeting is Saturday.”
That would give his team all the time they needed to arrive at their target destination and get set up. Coulter and his men were all retired Special Forces and worked as freelance security contractors and consultants. His team’s mission was to go to Medellín, Colombia, and surveil Javier Palacios, a wealthy businessman who dabbled in legitimate and illegal business deals, depending on the profit level.
Coulter’s sources had confirmed that Palacios would meet with a contact to arrange to purchase stolen US weapons and ammunition. Because of its sensitive nature, this would be a low-visibility mission. They were all fluent in several languages, and between the clothes and other mannerisms, they could blend in and adapt to their surroundings, becoming practically invisible. Coulter even wore contact lenses when necessary to change his vivid green eyes to brown to ensure that nothing about him stood out.
“Usual bells and whistles?” Neil asked with excitement.
“More or less.”
His friend grinned. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“Easy, Tex-Mex,” Coulter called over his shoulder. “This is simple surveillance.”
“Yeah? That’s how they all start. Then we find ourselves in the middle of a hailstorm with no umbrella, and it ain’t ever simple.”
Coulter’s head went up. “Don’t worry. We’ll have the usual complement in case we need to bring the pain.”
A wide grin plastered itself on his friend’s face. “Nobody brings it like we do, Colt.”
Coulter shook his head and returned to his task. “Don’t you have something else you could be doing?”
“Yeah, I do, like getting some shut-eye, so keep it down,” Neil replied with a yawn before he doused the light, plunging his side of the room into total darkness.
Five minutes later, Coulter could barely make out Neil’s even breathing. He had to smile at that. They even slept stealthily.
There would be two six-man teams. Highly trained, each team had weapons, communications, medical, and an engineering expert in addition to the team lead. Whatever the situation, when they arrived in Colombia, they would be ready.
The meeting took place in a rural country estate on the outskirts of Medellín. They were dropped off about five miles from the compound and went the rest of the way on foot. When they arrived, Coulter led his team to the left side while Neil’s team took the right. With night-vision goggles in place, they advanced toward a large outbuilding at the back of the property where the meeting would take place. Not encountering any resistance, they slipped inside. Then, each group fanned out in a different direction.
The building was a two-story warehouse with tables set up along the walls and stacked with crates. There were also large metal containers placed on the floor. Coulter signaled one of his men. He nodded and went to investigate. He held up his rifle and then pointed toward one of the crates. Coulter understood. He gave a hand signal, and his man got to work taking pictures and documenting the weapons.
They were almost done when they heard movement at the other end of the building and voices coming toward them. Coulter’s team put everything back, then concealed themselves by hiding behind the stacked crates. Coulter took a position on an upper level with a clear view of the main floor.
“Is everything set?” Javier Palacios asked in Spanish.
“Of course,” another man replied, smoothly. “You can take possession of our shipment today if the price is agreeable.”
Recognizing the voice, Coulter controlled his anger and focused on the conversation. His gaze traveled to the burly man across from Palacios. Coulter noted a telltale bulge underneath his suit jacket when he leaned in to speak to the man beside him.
“Falconi,” Coulter whispered.
Derek Falconi worked for Joseph Brinkley at Ghost Town Security. Years ago, Coulter had been a consultant for them on several projects and had clashed with Falconi from day one. Coulter found him an arrogant and reckless bully. He turned his attention back to the men below.
“We shall see.” Javier motioned for the man behind him to step forward. He carefully inspected the weapons. While he did, Javier turned his attention back to Falconi.
“You are certain we won’t have any unforeseen interference?”
Derek laughed. “None whatsoever. My contact is well placed.”
“Yes, but can he be trusted?”
“I assure you, his love for money extends past his patriotic duty. He’s guaranteed there will be no entanglements—military or otherwise.”
Derek retrieved a card. He handed it to Javier’s assistant. “If Señor Palacios is satisfied, the money should be transferred to this account number.”
Coulter’s men were already on standby to fall back if necessary.
“In a moment,” Javier replied, not catching Derek’s frown.
“And the Platinum Invitation?”
Coulter eyed one of his men. He shook his head and shrugged.
“Your offer was accepted,” Derek replied. “You have a seat at the table. Bidding will take place in two weeks.”
“I want to see it.”
“I’m afraid that we don’t have it here.”
Javier Palacios was a tall, well-built man with stylish gray hair tousled back from his face and a goatee. He had a commanding presence that signaled he was used to getting what he wanted.
Coulter observed a subtle shift in him at hearing Derek’s news, but Falconi was either oblivious or too focused on his own needs to notice the businessman’s growing annoyance.
Javier placed his arms behind his back and rocked on his heels. “That’s displeasing. You tell us about a new weapon that is undetected, untraceable and kills the person in a matter of days, yet we can’t see it in person?”
“We never agreed to provide samples before the big event,” Derek countered. “Besides, it’s not that simple. From what I understand, Silent Night has a fail-safe in place. So, you can understand how that prohibits us from doing a dry run, so to speak.”
Javier was silent for a few moments before he nodded.
“But we have brought something to show,” Derek said quickly. He turned to his men. One retrieved a laptop from a briefcase along with a small box. Around his neck were a chain and key. Unlocking the box, he retrieved a thumb drive and plugged it into the USB port on the computer. After logging in, the first man tilted the computer in Javier’s direction.
Coulter used binoculars to view the screen.
“Silent Night is completely secure. It requires a ciphertext code to start the activation sequence. The symmetric algorithm key encrypts and decrypts the code,” the scientist explained. “It can’t be activated without the codes, and once activated, the security sequence can’t be stopped. So, the vial selected would need to be used or destroyed.”
“Then how will my lab test the sample?”
“Each attendee will receive the necessary documentation before bidding. The winner will receive the case of Silent Night, the cipher codes, the decryption key, and the formula.”
Returning his attention to Derek, Javier nodded. “I’m satisfied.” Turning to his employee, he said, “You can release the funds.”
A clenched jaw was the only display of Coulter’s emotions. Then, after making eye contact with Neil, he signaled his team to pull out.
By the time Palacios’s group moved down the hall, Coulter and his men had left the building and were headed back to their extraction point.
“I want that laptop and thumb drive,” Coulter told two members of his team. “We can’t let a bioweapon be sold to the highest bidder on the black market. We have to stop that sale—whatever it takes.”
“Roger that,” they agreed before taking off in the opposite direction.
Turning to his weapons specialist, he said, “Captain Perry, light ’em up.”
“Yes, sir,” Perry said before retrieving detonators from his bag and disappearing down the walkway.
Coulter gave the sign for the remaining team to move out. They retraced their steps and got clear of the building when a loud boom followed by shattering glass shook the area.
Men were yelling and running for cover as smoke billowed out of the warehouse entrances, followed by repeated mini explosions as the ammo detonated. The panic was visible on their faces as they sought safety. A man rushed from the back side of the building with his shirt on fire. He was screaming as he ran until one of his colleagues tackled him to the ground. Ripping off his shirt, the helper began beating the man on his back to extinguish the flames.
After ensuring they weren’t followed, the team rushed to meet their convoy.
“What are you going to do, Colt?” Neil asked as they carefully picked their way back through the jungle.
Coulter ran an agitated hand over his beard while he walked. At times like this, the hair on his face was annoying.
“What do you think? Nail Ghost Town Security to the wall, but first, we have to stop the sale of that bioweapon. Though Joseph Brinkley wasn’t here, we’ve got plenty on Falconi, and it’s doubtful that his boss wasn’t aware of what was going on right under his nose. I knew Brinkley was pompous, overambitious, and would make a deal with the devil if there was a profit to be made, but this time he’s gone too far. Now we’ve got enough proof to make him pay for his greed and bring men like him and Falconi to justice.”
“What about that invitation they talked about?”
“The bidding on Silent Night? I saw it on the laptop,” Coulter noted. “The minimum buy-in to even receive a Platinum Invitation was twenty million.”
Neil stopped in his tracks. “What? That’s insane. I mean, we’ve read about it, but I didn’t know it was actually in production.”
“Neither did I. The United States doesn’t deal in bioweapons, but an international branch of Beecham Pharmaceuticals engineered it. So clearly, it was outside of any oversight committees.”
His friend’s eyebrows rocketed toward his hairline. “Beecham? As in—”
“Yes.”
A few moments of uncomfortable silence ensued. Coulter felt his friend’s intense gaze, but he ignored it. “Don’t give me that look. I know Marena didn’t have anything to do with creating this thing. She worked tirelessly to save lives, not end them.”
“Of course not,” his friend agreed. “I was thinking that she’s a scientist and worked at Beecham. Maybe she can provide some insight to—”
“Forget it,” Coulter interrupted. “I’m not bringing her into this mess. Besides, I’m the last person in the world she wants to see.”
“Can you blame her?”
“No,” Coulter sighed before turning his attention back to work.
“I didn’t see the names of the other attendees, but this has global ramifications, Neil. They’re planning on selling it to the highest bidder—along with the formula. If that happens, no one is safe.”
“Colonel McKendrick, we have the scientist,” his man said over the radio. “He said he’d rather die than give up the laptop and thumb drive, sir.”
“Acknowledged—see if he means it.”
“Roger that, Colonel.”
Coulter secured his radio and continued moving.
“This doesn’t make sense, Colt. Ghost Town is jeopardizing national security and endangering lives for what? Money? Power?” His friend sneered.
“I don’t know much about the CEO, Cole Everett, except on paper. It’s almost like he’s a ghost, but there’s plenty of Brinkley everywhere. I severed connections with him because of his questionable business practices, but not once did I ever think him capable of betraying his own country or setting up black market deals to sell deadly toxins.”
“Well, it’s useless without the cipher codes and code key, which we’ll have shortly,” Neil responded.
“And we need to keep them out of enemy hands at all costs. No one can be allowed to acquire the activation sequence to use this thing, understood?”
“Affirmative. No matter the cost, we’ll keep it safe.”
When they made it back to their extraction point, the three men from their team were already there. One came over and handed the thumb drive and laptop to Coulter.
“Thanks,” he replied before handing both to their technology expert. “Once you’re in, I want all the files copied and uploaded to my server. Then corrupt those drives.”
“Roger that, Colonel.”
They had been walking single file for several minutes. The darkness would have been a hindrance had it not been for their night-vision goggles.
Without warning, one of their men hit the ground. He was writhing in pain.
Coulter’s team sprang into action. Two men grabbed the injured soldier and dragged him behind a berm, while the others ran for cover behind a clump of underbrush or downed trees.
“I got one man at seventy-five meters to my two o’clock,” another shouted.
“Cover fire,” Coulter yelled before turning back to his tech guy. “Get to it, and don’t stop till you’re done.” He turned to the rest of his team. “Give him a shield,” he ordered.
Instantly, two men covered the one working on the computer while the others set up a defensive line.
They cut the chatter to short, concise orders while they returned fire. The only thing seen in the darkness they were enveloped in was the muzzle flash coming from their high-powered rifles.
“Come on, guys, I need you,” Neil yelled, after taking heavy fire on his position.
Dropping down low, three men worked their way over to his position.
“Target,” Neil barked.
“Eyes on, twelve hundred meters north,” someone yelled.
Neil adjusted his position and fired. “Flank left.”
The gunfire was deafening as their enemies returned fire.
“Moving,” two men confirmed Neil’s order and left to get behind their assailants. They ran as fast as they could, dipping behind the tree line to remain concealed.
“Lay down suppressive fire!” Coulter ordered and then crouched down to reload his rifle. The sweat poured down his face from the exertion. His breathing was labored and he struggled with loading the ammunition. “It’s jammed.”
“Where is our transport?” Neil ground out, returning fire. He crawled over to Coulter’s position to give him another rifle.
Seconds later, the comms guy replied. “ETA five minutes.”
“Colonel, it’s done,” his tech expert yelled out.
“Destroy it,” Coulter ordered before turning to the medic working on the wounded soldier. “West?”
“It’s not fatal,” West confirmed before he asked. “He’ll make it to the vehicle when it gets here.”
Their men arrived behind enemy lines and a firefight ensued. Coulter’s team continued shooting until the frontal attack stopped. They remained in their position, guns trained, until the two men that left returned.
When the Jeeps finally arrived, Neil yelled, “Move out!”
The men moved two at a time while the others covered them. Before reaching the vehicles, a truck roared into the clearing from the opposite side. Guys jumped out and trained their rifles on the group.
A split second later, Neil and Coulter took out three men while another shot the driver.
The demolition expert jumped into the truck. Moments later, he returned with a laptop in his hand. “There are two more and several weapons inside.”
Neil took one of the laptops from his man and handed it to the comms expert.
“See what you can do with this.”
Suddenly, Coulter felt a searing pain shoot through the side of his neck. He reached up and grasped at his skin. He pulled a dart out of his neck and peered at it. “What the—” he rasped before he dropped to his knees.
“Colt,” Neil yelled, rushing to his position. He was stopped by more trucks advancing on their position.
Coulter watched as more chaos ensued around him, but he was powerless to help. Though he was losing consciousness, he tried fighting against the effects. Minutes later, everything was eerily still. “Neil?” he called out. “Tanner?”
He tried to get up, but a man was standing over him. He pushed the butt of his rifle into Coulter’s chest, effectively keeping him on the ground.
“Wh-who? Who—” Coulter struggled to continue. His voice sounded distorted, and he barely registered being thrown into the back of a truck.
“Move out,” the man called out.
Before he slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing he heard was “Silent Night, Colonel McKendrick.”