Ghost Agent by J T Baier

Author:J T Baier [Baier, J T]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Calibre
Published: 2020-07-05T16:00:00+00:00

24

RIKER CROUCHED DOWN NEXT to the blueprints on the floor, going over the plan one more time. He glanced at the men around him. There were four of them, each dressed in a black T-shirt, dark pants, and boots. Outfits that wouldn’t stand out on the street, but also worked for what they were planning—a tactical strike on the warehouse in Santa Monica that Riker believed was Laghaz’s local headquarters.

He had to admit, Franklin had come through on this one. It was early afternoon, only a few hours after they’d found out about the existence of the warehouse, and Franklin had managed to round out four qualified mercenaries-for-hire. They were now gathered in a storage facility in Burbank, the blueprints laid out in front of them.

“What’s communications look like?” one of the men, a guy who’d introduced himself as Saber, asked. He was on the shorter side—maybe five foot seven—and wiry, but he had a hardness around the eyes that spoke of experience. He looked like many of the guys Riker had worked with in Special Forces. Unlike what the movies would have people believe, most Special Forces operatives were below average height; Riker’s big frame was the exception rather than the norm.

Riker took some handheld radios and burner phones out of his pack and began to hand them out. “We synchronize our watches and attack the pre-ordained time. We’ll use the radios to communicate pre and post mission. If we need to communicate silently, we text with the burner phones.”

“These are pretty old school,” the man code-named Jameson said as he looked at the radios. “You sure we can’t get whisper mics?”

Riker shot him a look. “Our time and resources are limited. We go with what we have.”

Jameson grimaced, but said nothing.

Riker looked around at the others before continuing. Besides Jameson and Saber, the other men were Greco and Wendig. Greco was about Saber’s height, but bulkier. He was quiet, but his eyes showed he was taking it all in. Wendig was the oldest of the group. He had to be closer to fifty than to forty. He kept making jokes—nobody laughed, but only Jameson seemed bothered. Riker sensed a clash coming between the two of them.

Despite his gratefulness for Franklin’s fast work, he couldn’t help but be a little nervous. He’d be going into battle with guys he didn’t know. It had happened before, both in his Navy days and in QS-4, but back then there had been an organization to train and vet the fighters. All he had now was Franklin’s vague assurances that these men could handle themselves.

Riker was half tempted to ask them about their backgrounds, but he knew guys like this could get squirrelly about those kinds of questions. There’s a chance they’d start thinking this was a setup and walk. The only question he’d asked was if any of them were trained to use a sniper rifle. Only Saber had answered in the affirmative.

As much as Riker didn’t like it, he’d have to trust that Franklin had gotten him the right guys for the job.

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