Disavowed by C. G. Cooper

Author:C. G. Cooper
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Action & Adventure, Political, Thriller & Suspense, War & Military, Genre Fiction, Thriller, Literature & Fiction
Publisher: Cooper & Associates
Published: 2014-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

Kandahar, Afghanistan

1:24am AFT, August 25th

Kreyling took a hard right, pulling into a small parking lot. Cal estimated twelve to fifteen parking spots marked by rubble and splashes of white spray paint. One story buildings surrounded the lot, making it sort of a courtyard. It looked like a death trap to Cal. Nowhere to go. Their pursuers were close.

“Please tell me you didn’t take a wrong turn.”

Kreyling just shook his head, snagged the shotgun off the dash and stepped out. Cal followed after motioning for Higgins and Neil Patel to stay in the truck.

He’d allow the Brit to lead whatever scheme he’d concocted, but he wouldn’t risk his support personnel. Cal trusted the SAS veteran, his instincts in urban settings were uncanny. But sitting in an empty parking lot with no way out was crazy. At least they should take cover and setup a hasty ambush. Standing out in the open wasn’t Cal’s style.

Nope. Kreyling stood with his arms crossed facing the entrance, his face set with its usual grim determination.

The enemy approached, cautiously taking in the situation. Cal could only imagine what they were thinking. Good thing they didn’t have mounted weapons.

They piled out all at once, black-clad stalkers wearing balaclavas. The two men heading toward Kreyling were not wearing masks, unperturbed by the lack of anonymity. A large Middle Easterner led the procession. He had one ear left and a jagged scar across his pock marked forehead that pushed his eyebrows down into an eternal scowl. He was not carrying a weapon that Cal could see.

The man just behind him had a lighter complexion and the facial features of a foreigner. He was smiling as if he’d just made a delicious discovery. Similar to his friend, this man’s hands were empty.

The oversized ogre growled.

“Well you’re one ugly bastard, aren’t you?” said Kreyling, still maintaining his stance in front of Cal and the rest of the Americans. Rango lounged off to the side, running his hand back and forth along the length of his H&K.

Cal counted nineteen men, seventeen of whom were fanning out to cover any possible escape. The Marine glanced at Daniel Briggs who was casually taking in the display. He looked almost bored. MSgt Trent and Gaucho looked like they wanted to pounce, shifting their weight slowly from foot to foot.

Cal didn’t doubt that his men could put up a good fight, but they were outnumbered. Casualties were inevitable. Not that he was scared of a fight, but better to wait for a more opportune moment.

The non-Arab pushed his goon aside and stepped forward.

“You’re all under arrest.”

“Under whose authority?” asked Kreyling.

“The Afghan government and The United States of America.” An American. The guy had spook written all over him.

Kreyling chuckled. “Sorry, chap, but I don’t take orders from you or your governments.”

The man frowned. “And who do you take orders from?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m the Queen’s butler. I go wherever the hell she tells me to go. Chamber pots are my specialty.”

No one laughed. The tension and stakes were too high.

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