Chapter 6

Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti

Stone was standing outside the hanger, waiting for Taylor when the MPs escorted him back, looking equal parts annoyed and angry.

“Where the hell did you go,” he demanded when Taylor was walking back into the hanger.

“I have an old friend serving here. I’d called ahead before I left and got clearance to leave the confined area and go see him. That’s it.”

“I know you’re used to people kissing your ass because you’re friends with big important people, but on my mission, that shit don’t fly. If you wander off again, we will leave your ass here. I don’t care what deals were made. This isn’t some chicken shit FBI operation. We’re going into hostile territory and I don’t need a tourist fucking up my mission. Get with the program or stay here. Is that clear?”

“I’ve got it,” Taylor said, non-committal.

He’d considered for a moment pointing out his group had a history of screwing up jobs all on their own, often with very high body counts, or that he’d seen considerably more field time while he was in the service than Stone ever had. Taylor knew that wouldn’t do any good and it would only serve to make it harder to get Wayne out of the compound when the time came, so he just shut his mouth and let the tirade roll over him.

Stone was trying to do his best drill sergeant glare, and falling far short of the goal. Taylor had been chewed out by the best and he could take a piker like Stone without batting an eye.

Stone clearly didn’t believe Taylor’s story, but there was no way to disprove it, so he had to just let it drop, which was fine by Taylor.

They spent the next several hours packing weapons and packs for the march that they’d have to make as soon as they hit land and ensuring everything was watertight, just in case it went over. They’d be taking three inflatable boats to the shore from the ship they’d chartered. It was all but impossible to keep all of the sea spray and damp out of equipment. While that might be fine for clothes and the like, electronics and firearms did not respond well to the salty ocean water, which meant greasing and sealing everything that couldn’t be packed away to protect their mechanisms from the sea salt.

He went through all the equipment that Lopez had packed him and made sure he had enough ammunition and equipment, ultimately adding a few more magazines into his pack from the extras that Lopez had brought along, just in case. After hearing the briefing, Taylor was almost positive this thing would fall apart as soon as they hit enemy contact. Short of calling for a pickup and scrubbing the whole mission, they wouldn’t be getting any more supplies any time soon.

He couldn’t help but notice that none of the other men seemed to be taking similar precautions. For a group that touted itself as being made up of former service members, they were all taking a very lackadaisical approach to the entire mission. O’Brien, who was one of the men carrying squad assault weapons, didn’t even pack the standard load dictated by the army. The way those things chewed through ammunition, if they did get into a firefight, he’d run dry in under ten minutes, and that was if he maintained fire discipline. If he went all Rambo, he’d be out a lot faster than that.

They still had a few hours until the boat arrived, so Taylor took the opportunity to find a corner and lean back on his rucksack to catch a few minutes’ sleep. A couple of the guys who’d seen actual service were doing the same thing, since they knew that once they were in the field, it might be a while before they got any real rest again. Especially if things went sideways.

Thankfully, Taylor was a light sleeper and was up when the team started to load up their stuff to head to the boat. He couldn’t help but notice none of the men had come to actually get him and let him know they were leaving. If anything, they were quieter around him than would have been normal, which was probably Stone’s doing. It was a safe bet that the former SEAL would have loved nothing more than to ‘accidentally’ leave Taylor behind.

Taylor grabbed his rucksack and weapon and started towards the boat when a beefy hand gripped his shoulder and turned him around. The hand alone had been enough that Taylor knew it was O’Brien before he turned around.

“You think your shit don’t stink just because you rub elbows with all the fancy-ass people, don’t you? Pulled strings to get out of lockdown and go eat with your fancy-ass friends instead of us. Too good to drink or hang with us last night. You need to remember you ain’t shit. Out here, we’re the top dogs and you’re a fucking nobody.”

Taylor knew O’Brien’s type. He didn’t care that Taylor hadn’t eaten with him and he didn’t care that Taylor hadn’t wanted to get drunk with the rest of them. All he wanted to do was show everyone else that he was still number two in the pecking order and put them outside in his place. Taylor also knew this wasn’t the kind of person you deescalated with. He was the type of guy that only respected aggression and saw anything less as a weakness to be exploited.

“I am too good for you O’Brien, and if you put your hand on me again, I’m going to smash in your ugly as shit face,” Taylor said, dropping his rucksack and setting his rifle against it.

“You little...” O’Brien started to say, reaching his hand out to thump Taylor in the shoulder as a sign of dominance.

Taylor didn’t wait for him to make contact. He’d learned a long time ago that the best move was to strike first, since the person that got in the first blows was also usually the one who walked away. He’d also been training steadily with Loretta for the last year and a half trying to make up for his lack of hand-to-hand skills. He’d always been more of a weapons guy and hadn’t gone in for all the kung fu shit other special operations soldiers like SEALS and Delta seemed to love.

While that’d worked for him in the service, where most of the hostiles he ran into were shooting at him from a distance, law enforcement was a lot more hands-on and he’d ended up on his ass more than once because of his lack of training beyond the beginner stuff he learned in basic training what seemed like a lifetime ago.

O’Brien was taller than Taylor, but only by four or six inches, putting Taylor’s nose about even with the man’s chin. Even as O’Brien’s hand was coming up Taylor lunged forward, pushing up on his toes as he slammed his head forward, smashing the hard front plate of his skull square into the tip of O’Brien’s nose. Taylor could feel the cartilage give way and a spray of warm liquid spray across his head as blood erupted from the large man’s face.

Taylor didn’t stop there, since O’Brien wasn’t the type of guy to let a little thing like a broken nose slow him down. Grabbing the extending right wrist with his left, Taylor hooked a foot around O’Brien’s ankle and pulled, sending the larger man, who was already stunned slightly from the head-butt, twisting to the ground. Taylor pulled back on his wrist as he fell, turning and causing the front of his body to smash into the ground. O’Brien, who hadn’t had a chance to brace himself before the crash, yelped in pain as his bloody and bruised face bounced off the tarmac. The yelp was suddenly cut off as Taylor fell knee first into the center of his back, pushing the air out of his lungs. Pulling the man’s wrist behind him, Taylor twisted until it was up behind his back at an uncomfortable angle, the shoulder and elbow hyper-extended, causing the right side of the man’s body to explode in pain.

“See,” Taylor said, leaning forward to whisper menacingly in his ear. “When I say I’m going to do something, I do it. Touch me again, and I’ll make sure you never use this arm again. Got it?”

Before Taylor could say anything else, he heard the click of a hammer being drawn back behind him. Not something really necessary in most modern guns, but some guys liked to use it as a method of intimidation when they wanted to get the point across. Taylor would have thought just pointing a gun at someone would have the same effect, but some guys liked the sensory experience, he guessed.

“Get off him,” Stone said from behind Taylor.

Taylor had made his point so he did as instructed, letting go of O’Brien’s wrist and pushing himself up, making sure the shifting weight put a little more pressure on the larger man’s back as he did so.

Turning around, Taylor ignored the extended firearm and looked steadily into Stone’s eyes.

“Make sure he keeps his hands off me, and we won’t have any more problems.”

“There won’t be any more problems if I do you here and now, either.”

“Look around you,” Taylor said.

Stone had shown how terrible his situational awareness was by how focused he’d been on Taylor. While they were loading up on a civilian boat, they were still on a US Navy dock and the extra security the base commander had ordered around Stone and his men was still in effect. Stone paused, maybe considering if Taylor was tricking him, before deciding to take a brief glance to the left and right, finally seeing the raised rifles of the MPs that had been stationed to ensure no one wandered off.

Stone clicked the hammer back into place and thumbed on the safety before sliding the weapon back into its holster.

“You need to learn some respect. You’re not part of my team and here by invitation only.”

“Like I said, make sure he keeps his hands off me and we won’t have any more problems. I’m here to get a job done, Stone. I’m not going to rock the boat as long as you keep your guys in check.”

“What if I just leave you here?”

“Go ahead. Although I’m betting whoever told you that you had to bring me in the first place might be upset.”

Stone was the kind of guy who’d get into a fight every single time rather than losing face. He was all about how he looked to other people and wouldn’t ever back down, even if it was in his own best self-interest, for fear of looking weak. Taylor didn’t need to be in a pissing match if he could help it. He’d shown O’Brien that he wasn’t someone to push around, and O’Brien would probably keep his distance, at least long enough to get the mission done. Taylor decided that with Stone, the best way to keep everything on track was the more diplomatic approach that wouldn’t have worked on O’Brien.

“Look, you know Angelo. I’m betting he gets in this kind of thing with every new guy on your team, trying to see who’s boss. We had our little moment and hopefully, this is where it ends. Let’s just get this thing done so you can be rid of me. I’ll promise to play nice if they do.”

Stone gave Taylor a hard look, evaluating him, before saying, “Fine. If they get out of line next time, come see me before busting their face.”

“Fine,” Taylor said, reaching down and picking up his weapon and his ruck. “See you on the boat.”

Taylor walked around Stone towards the boat, not looking back. Taylor was positive the truce wouldn’t hold, but he’d hoped it would last at least until they hit the beach. Once on mission, most of these guys were semi-professional enough to focus on that, rather than on these petty games.