© 2014 by Ronie Kendig
Print ISBN 978-1-62416-318-0
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.
Scripture taken from the New American Standard Bible, © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation.
Used by permission.
Additional scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
For more information about Ronie Kendig, please access the author’s website at the following Internet address: www.roniekendig.com.
Cover Design: Kirk DouPonce, DogEared Design
Published by Shiloh Run Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.shilohrunpress.com
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DEDICATION
Narelle Mollet—Steadfast, loyal, beautiful, encouraging—you are a light in my life! Thank you!
XOXOX
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to:
To my family—Brian, Ciara, Keighley, Ryan & Reagan—thank you for enduring on-your-own meals as I race toward deadlines and for loving me through the zombielike states after all-nighters spent writing!
Julee Schwarzburg—thank you for the countless hours you’ve spent on my many manuscsripts. I am very grateful!
Tom Dean, David Dean, and Troy McNear—thank you for your time and help to make the thread against the super-secure network plausible and yet protecting not only me but our men and women in uniform by not supplying too much information.
Steve Laube—thank you, Agent-Man, for your steadfast support and encouragement.
Narelle Mollet, Dineen Miller, Carla Laureano, Shannon McNear, and Sarah Penner—thank you for your steady encouragement, laughter, and friendship!
Thank you, Barbour Fiction Team—Annie Tipton, Shalyn Sattler, Becky Germany, Kelsey McConaha, Elizabeth Shrider, Linda Hang, and Mary Burns, for making this book happen! You’re awesome!
Ironmance Team: Rachel Hauck, Lynette Eason, Katie Ganshert, Dani Pettrey, and Becky Wade—Wow! What would I do without you ladies, your prayers, and your support?! Thank you!
Rapid-Fire Fiction Task Force—You are absolutely awesome! Thank you for your help, encouragement, and loyalty!
LITERARY LICENSE
In writing about unique settings, specific locations, and invariably the people residing there, a certain level of risk is involved, including the possibility of dishonoring the very people an author intends to honor. With that in mind, I have taken some literary license in Hawk, including renaming some bases within the U.S. military establishment, creating sites/entities that do not otherwise exist, and other aspects of team movement/integration. Also, some elements of the story are pure entertainment and, as with any work of fiction, demand a level of suspension of disbelief. Writing about a potential threat to our American military personnel can be tricky, and those experts within that field cannot divulge too much information. Therefore, to protect our heroes, some elements of the story about the cyber-security threat have been left intentionally and paritally vague. I have done this so the book and/or my writing will not negatively reflect on our military community and its heroes. With the quickly changing landscape of the combat theater, this seemed imperative and prudent.
Table of Contents
Glossary of Terms/Acronyms
Character List
Sundry Characters
Special Forces Creed
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Boris
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Mitch
Chapter 6
Mitch
Chapter 7
Boris
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Bloodied Backs
Chapter 11
Boris
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Boris
Chapter 16
Necessary Risks
Chapter 18
Acrid Weakness
Chapter 19
Boris
Chapter 20
Mitch
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Boris
Chapter 25
Mitch
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Boris
Mitch
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Glass Walls
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Boris
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
The Offer
Boris
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Epilogue
About the Author
GLOSSARY OF TERMS/ACRONYMS
AHOD—All Hands On Deck
ANA—Afghan National Army
CID—Criminal Investigations Department
DIA—Defense Intelligence Agency
Glock—A semiautomatic handgun
HK416—Military assault rifle
IED—Improvised Explosive Device
Klick—Military slang for kilometer
M4, M4A1, M16—Military assault rifles
MRAP—Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected vehicle
MWD—Military War Dog
OIC—Officer In Charge
OPSEC—Operational Security
QBZ-95—Chinese assault rifle
RPG—Rocket-Propelled Grenade
RTB—Return To Base
SAS—Special Air Service (Foreign Special Operations Team)
SCIF—Secure computer used by the military
SFOC—Special Forces Operational Command
SOCOM—Special Operations Command
STK—Shoot To Kill
UAV—Unmanned Aerial Vehicle
WO1—Warrant Officer, 1st Class
CHARACTER LIST
Boris Kolceki—expert computer hacker
Brian “Hawk” Bledsoe (Staff Sergeant)—Raptor team member; coms specialist
Cassandra Walker (Lieutenant)—works for DIA’s National Military Joint Intelligence Center
Dean “Raptor Six” Watters (Captain)—Raptor team commander
Eamon “Titanis” Straider (SAS Corporal)—Raptor team member; Australian; engineering specialty
Fekiria Haidary (a.k.a., Second Lieutenant Rhmani)—ANA helicopter pilot; Zahrah Zarrick’s cousin
Kiew Tang—executive assistant to
Daniel Jin
Lance Burnett (General)—Raptor’s commanding officer; attached to Defense Intelligence Agency
Meng-Li Jin /Daniel Jin—Chinese businessman
Mitchell “Harrier” Black (Sergeant First Class)—Raptor team member; combat medic
Mitra—Fekiria’s friend; runs a secret girls’ school
Mitra’s “girls”—Aadela, Hadassah (Mitra’s daughter), Jamilah, Sheevah, Wajmah
Salvatore “Falcon” Russo (Warrant Officer)—Raptor team member; aka team “daddy”; expert in ops/intel
Sandor Ripley (Captain)—U.S. Air Force pilot; Fekiria’s flight advisor
Todd “Eagle” Archer (Staff Sergeant)—Raptor team member; weapons expert; team sniper
Zahrah Zarrick—Fekiria’s cousin; Dean’s girlfriend; missionary teacher
SUNDRY CHARACTERS
Adam Brennan (Sergeant)—soldier stationed at Bagram Airfield
Adeeb Haidary—Fekiria’s older brother
Baktash and Belourine—married couple who help Mitra
Brie Hastings (Lieutenant)—General Burnett’s administrative officer
Chris Riordan (Lieutenant Colonel)—Navy SEAL officer
Ddrake—military war dog
Garret Slusarski (Major)—officer stationed at Bagram Airfield
Grant Knight (Sergeant)—Ddrake’s handler
Jack Bledsoe—Brian’s grandfather
Kitty Bledsoe—Brian’s grandmother
Mahmoud (Colonel)—ANA officer
Mason (Captain)—female officer at Bagram Airfield
Mike Sanderson (Specialist)—soldier at Bagram Airfield
Sajjan Takkar—CEO of Takkar Corp.
Tony “Candyman” VanAllen—former Green Beret on Dean Watters’s team
Zmaray/“The Lion”—assassin, terrorist
SPECIAL FORCES CREED
I am an American Special Forces soldier. A professional!
I will do all that my nation requires of me.
I am a volunteer, knowing well the hazards of my profession.
I serve with the memory of those who have gone before me:
Roger’s Rangers,
Francis Marion, Mosby’s Rangers, the first Special Service Forces and Ranger Battalions of World War II, the Airborne Ranger Companies of Korea.
I pledge to uphold the honor and integrity of all I am—in all I do.
I am a professional soldier.
I will teach and fight wherever my nation requires.
I will strive always, to excel in every art and artifice of war.
I know that I will be called upon to perform tasks in isolation, far from familiar faces and voices, with the help and guidance of my God.
I will keep my mind and body clean, alert and strong, for this is my debt to those who depend upon me.
I will not fail those with whom I serve.
I will not bring shame upon myself or the forces.
I will maintain myself, my arms, and my equipment in an immaculate state as befits a Special Forces soldier.
I will never surrender though I be the last.
If I am taken, I pray that I may have the strength to spit upon my enemy.
My goal is to succeed in any mission—and live to succeed again.
I am a member of my nation’s chosen soldiery.
God grant that I may not be found wanting, that I will not fail this sacred trust.
“De Oppresso Liber”
CHAPTER 1
Hindu Kush, Afghanistan
17 December—0915 Hours
Grip of death. The icy maw of winter in the Hindu Kush crushed breath from lungs with hammering winds. Bone-numbing iciness. Snowdrifts that could bury an entire mountain face as quickly as it could a person. Bitter and cruel, winter in Afghanistan held nothing back. Much like the insurgents trying to stop Raptor from seeing Christmas. Between deadly crevasses and IED-laden roads, the mountain range was a veritable kill zone.
Staff Sergeant Brian “Hawk” Bledsoe scrambled for cover. Shoulder to the hill, he ignored the rocks digging into his joint. “What’d you see?” he shouted ahead.
Captain Dean Watters went to a knee three yards up, a small cleft the only protection against the rounds of the Taliban they’d happened upon. “Eight, maybe ten fighters,” the commander called over his shoulder.
As the communications sergeant of Raptor team, Brian was responsible for establishing and maintaining tactical and operational communications. He’d really like to communicate as much death to these death-loving Taliban as possible. “Mockingbird, this is Hawk. Raptor team is taking fire. Request air support.”
“Hawk, this is Mockingbird. Sorry, but negative on the air support.”
Brian’s gut tightened. “Mockingbird, I repeat—need immediate assist.”
“Raptor, your location is designated no-fly at this time.”
“What the—?”
“Raptor, advise you disengage and RTB. Mockingbird out.”
“Return to base,” Brian muttered. “If we could do that—”
Rock and dirt spat at him.
Brian buried his chin, hunching against the barrage of weapons’ fire. “If we die,” he shouted into the coms, “it’s your butt!” Snapping up his weapon, he cursed.
And immediately felt the disapproval of the team captain. Brian slid his gaze in that direction. Sure enough—a scowl. “We’re on our own,” Brian bit out as he shifted around and aimed his M4 over the limb of a snow-draped shrub. Scanning the hill above them, he groaned. Insurgents had the high ground. Meant they had the advantage, too.
Which meant Raptor had to find the dogs and rout them.
He threw himself up the footpath and behind a bramble of shrubs. In position, he eased his weapon through the icy tundra and again checked the hillside. A patch of tan—smooth and consistent—peeked out.
Brian eased back the trigger. Nice and easy. Three-round burst.
A body tumbled from a ledge.
Hooah. One down, too many to go. He reacquired the location. Scanned left with his pulse whooshing in his ears. Two days. Two lousy days left before some R & R, and now they step into this mess? He continued searching for the terrorists. Rocks. Debris. A defiant sprig of green.
Gray!
Brian fired—and saw the small explosion of muzzle flash seconds before he felt the searing across his arm. With a hiss, he dropped back against the hill, rocks and twigs digging into his back as someone on Raptor returned fire.
“You okay?” Mitchell “Harrier” Black shouted.
“Fine.” Brian glanced down at his arm, the trail of blood small. “Just made me a little madder.”
“Pity the guy,” Harrier quipped.
“Nah,” Eamon Straider, the Australian SAS corporal they’d dubbed Titanis, said. “I just delivered him to his seventy-two virgins.”
“Hooah,” the captain murmured.
Falcon elbowed out of the rocky alcove in which he’d taken cover and started forward. “Let’s finish this. I’m ready to head home.”
Home. The guys all had somewhere to go, someone to spend the holidays with. Lucky ducks had—
“Hawk, your six!”
As the shouts of his call sign registered, so did the crunching of rocks behind him. Brian spun, coming up just in time to see something— someone—dropping on him. Adrenaline jacked, he knew this was fight or die! He lifted his arms.
Too late!
His head thudded against the rocks. Teeth clattered.
Weapon!
Brian grabbed the top end of the Talib’s AK-47 and jerked it forward, yanking his enemy with it—right into his fist. A solid crack sent the insurgent stumbling backward. Brian leapt after him. The guy had come to kill him. If he let him get away, the terrorist would find a way to finish the job. So Brian had to finish him first. He landed on the guy, skidding across the downsloping path. With a swift draw of his Cold Steel SRK, Brian ended the terrorist’s life.
Adrenaline spiked, he verified the man was dead b
efore climbing off. Pops and cracks of weapons’ fire continued behind him. Adjusting his M4, he sized up the enemy positions. Where Raptor was pinned down. If they didn’t get to high ground, they’d be ground meat.
Grabbing a crevice with both hands, he hauled himself up. This was where his upper body strength, the way he worked off steam and frustration, benefitted him. He might not be as fast as Salvatore “Falcon” Russo, their team sergeant/daddy, but he had the strength to take down the worst of their enemies.
“Hawk!” Captain Watters’s shout chased him up the hillside. “Hawk, no!”
Too late. He was halfway up and angrier than ever. These terrorists screamed and demanded honor but fought without it. The way they hid like cowards and picked off his team, men who worked hard to help make Afghanistan successful and peaceful in its own right, ticked him off. “And what do we get,” he grunted as he dragged himself up the last stretch. “Shot!”
Hidden in a deep crevasse that gave him a sweet line of sight on the three shooters, he went to a knee. Propped himself up so he wouldn’t fall. Wind howled over his ears, despite the hat and helmet, as seconds clicked off, waiting for someone to fire at Raptor again so he could spot them.
Crack.
Brian flicked his weapon’s reticle back to the left. Sighted the first one. Bravado would be the man’s fall—literally. He’d chosen a ledge that exposed him to Brian. Adios! He fired. The guy slumped as a crimson stain spread over the rocky edifice.
It took a second to locate the next shooter who’d taken cover, Brian imagined, when his friend went to hang with the virgins. He almost smiled. At least the guy wasn’t making it too easy for him. Evening his breathing, Brian took aim and eased back the trigger. The fighter twitched, lost his balance, and fell from his hiding spot.
Now, the third.
Thwack!
Snow and rock dribbled onto Brian’s forehead. With a curse, he took cover. Slipped down the crevasse. He scrabbled for traction. Caught himself with a toe in a small indention. His breath puffed before him. “Easy, easy,” he whispered. Controlled breathing wasn’t easy with his heart pumping twice its normal rate, but Brian focused. He eased down, propping himself forward, weapon trained out. Snow now dusted his muzzle.
More camouflage, he hoped. He slowed his breathing as he traced the rocks. The shrubs. More rocks. Come out, come out, wherever you—