Secondhand Soldier (The Soldiers of PATCH-COM Book 1) by Michele E. Gwynn

Author:Michele E. Gwynn [Gwynn, Michele E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: An M.E. Gwynn Publication
Published: 2019-09-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Eastwood’s room was crowded. Each of the six team members had a spot. Eastwood and Nasty sat on his bed. Art, Ben, and Mac sat on the opposite bed, and Alex sat on the floor between them, allowing more room to stretch out his left leg prosthetic. He supported the laptop on his titanium arm and with his right hand, inserted the flash drive. He pulled up the section of video showing the CIA agents and then the balding man wearing glasses, carrying a cross-body bag. He paused the video and showed the man to the group.

“This is who we’re looking for on the other tapes. I’ll download a date each to your laptops,” he said, looking at Art and then Eastwood. “If we split up the three days, we can scan them faster. I’ll make a crop of their faces now and send those on to command. They can run ‘em through facial recognition.”

“Why send the CIA agents’ faces?” Art asked.

Pavluk rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to answer. Eastwood cut him off. “Because we need to make sure, and because I for one am curious as to who these agents are and why they aren’t following up on their own mess.”

“It does seem strange that they sent us in to track down this guy. They could’ve handled this on their own. Why send special ops?” Nastjia asked.

“The question isn’t why send special ops,” said Mac. Everyone looked at the quiet man. He grunted; his deep-set eyes ever hostile. “The question is why send in the short bus team. Don’t give me that look,” he said sharply, noticing Art and Ben’s raised brows. “I’m aware of how that sounds! We’re a band of broke dicks in an experimental unit. We’re fucking guinea pigs. You know what that makes us? Expendable. We’re the fucking expendables! We’re also at a level of secrecy so high, I’m dumbfounded anyone in the CIA even knows of our existence. So, what we really need to know is who told them, and why were we requested?” Mac finished his diatribe and once again went mute.

No one spoke. Everyone pondered his words. Even Pavluk, who always had a snarky come-back said nothing. He downloaded a file to each computer splitting up the task. Quietly, the group began going through the surveillance tapes looking for the two agents and the man wearing glasses.

An hour went by in silence. At ten minutes to midnight, Ben told Art to pause the tape.

“Go back,” he said, and then pointing, “there!”

“It’s the dude,” said Art. “But who’s this with him?”

The rest of the team put aside their own computers and leaned in. Art turned the laptop monitor around and hit play. There, the balding man with glasses exited the hotel. The time stamp indicated it was two in the morning. He stopped on the sidewalk and pulled out a cigarette. Another man approached seeming to offer a light. That man was early to mid-thirties, blond, and stern of face. After

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