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“Stay low, stay quiet, and follow me,” Spectre said a final time as they prepared to enter the hallway. Before leaving, he turned to the elder reporter. “You cover rear security. Everyone keep in contact with the person in front of you. I don’t care if you grab their belt or shoulder, just stay together.”
Mary Valone pushed to the front of the line and grabbed Spectre’s shoulder. She squeezed gently after making contact. Spectre ignored her as he made sure everyone was ready. “Let’s move,” he said as he opened the door.
The five-person column moved slowly and deliberately down the hallway. He held the AK-47 high and ready as they moved, searching for threats as they passed the closed classrooms. Valone let out a shriek as they reached the guard’s body.
“My God!” she squealed.
“Quiet!” Spectre growled without turning around. He held up his hand and pointed down before crouching, causing the rest of the group to follow suit. Spectre slowly approached the windows of the double doors and peered out. It was barely light out.
As Spectre scanned the courtyard, movement caught his eye. He ducked back down, motioning to the four reporters behind him to stay down. After a few seconds, Spectre took another peek out. He found a man crouching against the wall carrying a handgun.
Spectre watched the man move. He appeared to be looking for someone. He was wearing a tactical vest and olive-green clothing. Another guard? Had the others been alerted already? Spectre wasn’t taking any chances.
“Stay here,” Spectre whispered. As he got up to move, he felt the female reporter’s hand still gripping his shoulder. He gently removed it and went back to his rifle as he turned to see her trying to go with him.
“Everyone needs to stay here,” Spectre said, pushing her back down.
Spectre carefully opened the door, trying not to make any noise as the man rounded the corner. He gently pushed the door closed as he emerged into the darkness, but the door’s spring forced it shut, making a noise much too loud for Spectre’s taste.
The man continued past the corner, seemingly unfazed, but Spectre couldn’t risk it. With his rifle up, Spectre sprinted toward the corner. Reaching the end of the breezeway, Spectre turned to find the man facing away from him, still apparently searching for something.
The man spun around to face him. With the instep of his shoe, Spectre kicked the man’s gun away before reorienting the barrel of the rifle at the man’s forehead.
“Don’t move,” Spectre ordered in a low growl. The man put his hands up, still crouching as he looked up at Spectre.
He didn’t look like the other captives. His face was painted black and green, but he had no facial hair and was wearing a survival vest. American! Spectre felt a sense of relief as he realized the man was wearing a subdued American flag on the left arm of his flight suit.
“American?” Spectre asked as he lowered his rifle and took a step back.
The man nodded.
“Who are you?” the pilot finally asked nervously, still unsure of Spectre’s disposition.
“Cal Martin,” Spectre said. “It’s good to see a friendly face for a change.”
“Major Ted Rogers, United States Air Force,” the man said.
Spectre held out his hand. “I used to fly Vipers. I’m Spectre.”
“Buck,” Rogers replied as Spectre shook his hand and helped him stand.
“Air Force? What are you guys doing here already?”
Buck shook his head. “They’re not. I’m on an exchange tour with the Navy. Got shot down trying to do CAS. Is it just you?”
“So, you’re the guy, huh? Nice work, man. That was badass,” Spectre said. “I’ve got four other reporters with me in the classroom. Let’s go get them.”
Spectre walked over and picked up Buck’s Beretta M9 in the grass and handed it to him grip-first. “Sorry about that,” he said as he offered the gun.
Buck took the gun and holstered it, following Spectre as he cleared around the corner with his AK-47 and jogged back to the double doors.
“You didn’t learn that in the Air Force,” Buck whispered, observing Spectre’s proficiency with the weapon and fluid movements as he cleared left and right.
“Not quite,” Spectre laughed softly as he opened the door for Buck. The two filed into the hallway where the reporters were waiting.
“You’re alive!” Valone yelped. Spectre was really starting to get annoyed by her clinginess. The sooner he could stop babysitting the whole lot, the better.
“Who is he?” Salvo asked.
“This is the guy that saved our asses earlier,” Spectre said, patting him on the back. “He was in the Hornet doing good work up there.”
“The one that got shot down?” Salvo shot back. “And you said we were screwed?”
“That’s me!” Buck said with a chuckle.
“Great,” Salvo replied as he folded his arms.
“Enough,” Spectre said. “We need a plan and a place to hide you guys until a rescue team arrives.”
“I was just at a galley by the beach. It has a pretty good defensive setup and has food and water still. We could hole-up there until help arrives. Wait. What time is it? Shit!” Buck said as he reached into his vest and pulled out his survival radio.
“What is it?” Spectre asked.
“I need to check back in,” Buck said. He pulled out the radio and powered it on. “We need to go outside so I can pick up satellites.”
“Hold on a second,” Spectre said. He remembered his evasion in Iraq over six months earlier. The Chinese had intercepted his satellite communications and directed him to rendezvous with Iraqi Security Forces. Those Iraqis had been working with the Chinese intelligence community and had handed him over to the Al Nusra Front to be executed as propaganda. Spectre was wary about using the radio.
“What?”
“That radio. I just...”
Buck looked at his watch impatiently. “I’m already five minutes past check-in. I was supposed to do recon and report back. I need to tell them I found you guys and where we’ll be.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Spectre replied. “They could be monitoring your communications.”
Buck shot Spectre a look of derision. “Dude, it’s encrypted. All the keys are valid. There’s no way.”
Spectre thought about it for a moment. The Chinese had communicated with him using the free-text function of the radio on the unencrypted satellite channels. Despite requiring inside information, it was something anyone with the right technical knowledge could pull off. It wasn’t quite as advanced as hacking encrypted satellite communications. The thought still bothered him.
“I need to send the message now,” Buck said as he grew tired of waiting for Spectre.
“Ok, but do me a favor,” Spectre said finally.
“What?”
“You can tell them you found the location of the hostages, but don’t tell them that you’ve made contact or where you’re going with them,” Spectre said.
“They could be launching a rescue operation. I have to give them intel.”
“You can give them intel. Just say that you found hostages and will check back in with more later. The best-case rescue operation is still hours away. You can update them when they get closer if necessary. The risks of telling them and the information getting intercepted outweigh the rewards here. Think about it,” Spectre pleaded.
“Ok,” Buck ceded. “But I’m going to have to get them more intel.”
“Later,” Spectre said as he pulled the AK-47 sling from across his chest. “Right now, I need you to take these reporters to safety.”
“What about you?” Valone asked.
Spectre ignored her and offered the rifle to Buck. “Take this. Get them to safety and make your comms happen.”
Buck held up his hands, trying to decline the weapon. “You seem way more proficient with it than I would be. Where are you even going anyway?”
“Take it,” Spectre said as he pushed the weapon into Buck’s hands. Buck reluctantly took it. “This is the select fire. Up is safe. Middle is auto. Down is single.”
Buck gave Spectre a confused look as he studied the rifle.
“No pew. Pew-pew-pew. One pew,” Spectre said as he pointed to the various modes. “Got it?”
“Got it,” Buck said as he inspected the weapon.
Spectre took off his watch and handed it to Buck. Buck had the best chance of being rescued with it on. “Take this too,” he said, handing it to Buck.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Buck asked, confused by the watch.
“It has a separate homing beacon on it to a different satellite,” Spectre said. “It will tell the right people where you actually are. Good luck.”
“Wait. What are you going to do?” Buck asked.
“I have someone I have to find,” Spectre said.
“Then you’ll need this more than me,” Buck replied, trying to push the weapon back to Spectre.
“Look, I’ve got a knife and a pistol. If I have to use anything that goes bang, it’s all over anyway,” Spectre said.
“Are you sure that’s all you need?” Buck asked.
Spectre nodded at the dead body still propped against the wall. “I’m sure. Now get going. If you don’t hear from me in an hour, assume I’m dead.”
* * *
Decker felt dehydrated. Her mouth was dry. The gag was pushing against her mouth and she hadn’t had water since the plane ride. That was the least of her worries, however. The guards had already pulled out two other agents. She wasn’t sure what happened to them, but she was almost certain they were dead. The men holding them hostage had been ruthless.
The Air Force guy was still whimpering in the corner. He had been rambling about something. Decker wasn’t sure. At one point, she thought she heard him say “suitcase nuke” but everything was starting to run together. She wondered what the point of the captivity was. Why don’t they just kill us already?
Decker tried to keep her mind active. She tried to pick up on the distinguishing features of the guards each time they came in and beat Decker and her fellow hostages. It was hard to see in between strikes in the darkness, but she had made out scars on one of the guy’s arms. It would do little good for her in the long run, but it kept her mind from focusing on the pain.
She was sure they were going to try to rape her. But each time, they seemed content only with a few punches to the stomach and ribs. They were very methodical. There was seemingly no emotion in their actions. It made the experience even more unnerving.
Decker wondered how Spectre was fairing. The sense of guilt was worse than the pain. Spectre had been right. It was better to lay low and forget about everything than keep getting in the middle of it. It was no longer their fight. They could’ve just lived out their lives and been happy together. She cursed herself for being so stubborn. The myth of the greater good had been too appealing.
The door opened. They tossed another decapitated head in and slammed it shut. Decker recognized it immediately. It was the head of the President’s Secret Service protective detail. She shuddered. There were no more tears left to produce. There were now four heads lying in the center of the dark room. She didn’t understand the torture. They were doing a good job of breaking her spirits. She wanted to die.
But every time she pondered death, she saw Spectre’s face and wanted to live. She wanted to save him. She wanted him to hold her again. She just wanted to wake up from the nightmare, roll over in their bed, and have him kiss her.
“Please,” the airman whimpered. “Please. We have to get out of here.”
Decker looked in the direction of the voice. She could barely make out his silhouette, but little more. She let out a muffled grunt.
“They have a nuclear bomb,” the man said as he cried. “They’re going to kill the President. They’re going to kill us all. We have to get off this island.”
Decker grunted to acknowledge the man. She wanted him to keep talking. Although there was nothing she could do about their situation, the talking seemed to help. The Special Agent in her made it easier to cope with an external looming threat than captivity.
“Please,” the man said again. “They’re going to leave us here and detonate it. They’re terrorists.”
Another agent groaned as the man continued to cry.
“I don’t want to die here... Please get us out of here.”