The Vagabonds (The Code of War Book 4) Read online

As she pulled out the only other chair in the room, Jade said, “Rourke looked peeved, General. Is he all right?”

  “Fine. Just some private business,” Walsh said, rummaging through some of the papers in the drawer beside him, “What’s on your mind?”

  Jade took a long breath, “Sir…I…I’m pregnant.”

  Walsh stopped and looked back at his aide-de-camp. “Oh. You’re…hmm. You’re sure?”

  “Yes, sir. I found out just before I went on leave.”

  Walsh sat back in his chair. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, but may I ask who the father is?”

  “You know who it is.”

  “Hmm. Well, congratulations.”

  “I haven’t told Joe yet.”

  That surprised the General. “Oh? Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I thought there would be time when we were at the farm, but—”

  “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. I’m going to reassign you to the Cottage.”

  “But—”

  Walsh held up a hand, “No buts, Masters. Besides, there’s an outbreak of the Zika virus in Venezuela. I’m sure you’d prefer to avoid that for yourself and your baby. Actually, to be honest, this works out for the best.”

  Jade didn’t seem to understand. “General?”

  “Doctor Cairncross is staying on base to continue his work with the Code disc. I need someone close I can trust to stay here with him.”

  “I can still serve in the field, General. I have more experience in urban warfare than almost anyone in this Unit.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m choosing you. If what Agrippina has said is true and there is a chance that Olympus knows the location of this base, we’re going to need to transfer the Code. Problem is, Doctor Cairncross has some final tests to work out with the disc and the R&D lab is the only place equipped with what he needs. Once he’s finished, we’ll be moving the Code disc to a secure location north of Langley. I want you to help coordinate the transfer and guard the disc.”

  “Sir,” Jade said, her emerald eyes looking into his own, “do you believe that Olympus is planning to attack us here in the US?”

  “No. Not at all. But right now, in this complex, we have something that could alter the course of the world order, and Olympus will do anything to get it back. You’ve proved yourself this past year as someone I can trust. I need you to do this for me.”

  “Aren’t you just the least bit worried that we’re trusting Agrippina too far, General? Joe’s right—she could still be working for Olympus for all we know.”

  “I can only ask you to trust me, Masters,” Walsh replied, confidently, “She may be a killer and a ruthless bitch, but in this, she’s telling the truth.”

  Jade nodded. “Yes, General.”

  “Good. Meet Doctor Cairncross in the R&D wing after you get some rest to begin the preparations. I’ll have the details sent to your PDA.”

  Jade stood to leave, her face unreadable, “Yes General.”

  Before she could reach the door, Walsh called after her, “Oh one more thing. I’m not going to stop you from doing so, but I want to ask you to wait before you tell Joe the news. Can you do that for me, Masters?”

  “I…yes General.”

  “I appreciate it. There’ll be plenty of time when this is all behind us. Dismissed.”

  Jade took off through the door. Walsh leaned back in his chair, exhausted. His aged body was not handling these long hours as well as it used to. A fit of coughing forced him to reach for a Kleenex on the desk. He coughed and hacked until it felt like his lungs would exit his body. As he drew away the Kleenex, he saw a spattering of blood soaking the material. Tossing it into the trash, the General let out a faltering breath.

  Time was no longer on his side.

  Walsh knew his war would soon come full circle.

  But before that time came, he would follow this war through to its conclusion, hell or high water.

  This old war dog would have his day.

  JOE STOOD in the R&D building, stifling another yawn. He hadn’t slept at all in twenty-four hours and while he could go another twenty-four without much of a problem, he preferred to get a few winks before hitting the field. At the moment, the senior members of the Peacemakers had been summoned to meet with Doctor Cairncross. They would be receiving a special briefing on a new technology brought to them specifically from the Doc’s Japanese technology firm. Joe, Krieger, and Brick, plus a small handful of other senior ranked members of the Unit sat or stood in a semi-circle around the eccentric doctor.

  Cairncross began by saying, “Now, I don’t have the time to meet all of you, but I think we can begin—”

  Joe looked around, then held up his hand, “Wait, Doc, we’re missing someone.”

  The moment the words exited Joe’s mouth, the R&D lab door opened and Specialist Rourke entered. Taking a seat near Joe, the SEAL said simply, “Sorry.”

  “If I may continue…” Cairncross said, annoyed at the late arrival, “The General, with the help of a generous grant from the CIA, has decided to outfit all point members of this Unit with a new development in combat gear.”

  The Doctor reached into one of the many silver crates scattered throughout the lab. He pulled out what appeared to be a dark black suit. With a degree of difficulty, the Doctor hefted the bulky piece of clothing and laid it down on the table beside him. Among the table’s other contents were several pieces of safety equipment and a single SCAR assault rifle.

  “These are experimental P-101 Shear Thickening Fluid Combat Uniforms,” Cairncross explained proudly, “or as I prefer to call them, STF Suits.”

  There were murmurs around the room by the observers. The Doc went on to explain the suit’s capabilities. “They utilize a technology called dilatant material. Combining a non-Newtonian fluid into a regular Kevlar weave results in a far better-performing bulletproof material capable of stopping bullets, stabbing knife blows and other such attacks. Allow me to demonstrate.”

  Two lab techs rushed forward. Taking the armor, they placed it upon a mannequin set up in the corner of the lab. From the table, Cairncross took a pair of safety goggles and ear muffs and slid them on his head. He then hefted the SCAR rifle, switching off the safety.

  “Doctor, what are you planning—”

  Before Brick could finish his question, Cairncross let loose a volley from the rifle at the body armor. The din of the gun in such a small space forced everyone to clap hands on their ears. When the gun clicked on an empty magazine, Cairncross set the rifle back down and removed his safety equipment. Joe and the rest of the Peacemakers lowered their hands, each angrier than ever at the Doctor.

  Cairncross placed his rifle on the table, then pointed at the target, “Please observe the armor.”

  As the techs removed the STF suits, Joe could see the impact mannequin was untouched, with no noticeable damage to its soft structure.

  The Doctor explained his invention, “The dilatant fluid within the suit works similarly to an oobleck liquid—the result of combining cornstarch and water. The fluid is able to retain its malleable properties, but when it reacts to a blunt force, it becomes immediately hard—cushioning the impact. This allows the suits to be relatively thin, yet quite protective. An internal battery-powered micro generator provides a coolant system to keep internal temperatures controllable in harsh climes.”

  Cairncross beamed as he completed his presentation. “My team’s been working on these for months. A solid achievement, if I may say. They can be worn on their own, or underneath other garments. The suits have been made for each soldier’s measurements, so please only take the one with your name on it. I’d suggest equipping them now—you have a little time before this operation begins to get used to them. Make the most of it.”

  A new voice spoke from behind the team, “They’re state of the art for a reason…” Everyone turned to see General Walsh standing at the lab entrance, having finished his business in his new office, “...we’re going to a
country that is fast eating itself alive. Anarchy rules in Venezuela. People are starving and afraid. It’s mob rule out there and you guys are going to need to be prepared for anything.”

  Krieger spoke up, his voice shaded with annoyance, “It would be great if we knew what to be prepared for, General.”

  There were a few mutters of agreement, but none so loud for the General to hear. Walsh nodded in understanding. “Look, I know we seem to be shooting in the dark. Agrippina told me that there is a contact between the Vagabonds and the VPA—the Venezuelan People’s Army—who may be able to lead us to Lennox and his Vagabonds. Apparently, this person is a gunrunner to the anti-government forces and his chief supplier is the Vagabonds. But Agrippina won’t tell us this contact’s identity unless she comes with us.

  Joe grunted, “She’s thought of everything, hasn’t she?”

  Walsh checked his watch, “Alright, enough chit chat. We leave in exactly one hour. Meet on the parade square at 0700—” The General’s last word was lost in a thick, rasping cough that Walsh tried to cover up. Before anyone could react, he turned on his heel and took off through the door of the R&D lab.

  Brick took over the meeting, “Alright, you heard the General. Get dressed and meet out on the square at 0700!”

  Krieger snorted and whispered to Joe, “There must be echo in here.”

  IT TURNED out the suits were exactly as the Doctor described. After years of wearing bulky Kevlar vests, the STF suit was an absolute miracle. Fitted perfectly to Joe’s muscular frame, it felt smooth and convenient. As he stretched out his arms in the locker room of the barracks section of the Cottage, Joe was amazed at how light the entire getup was. The suit moved with an ease of motion he’d never felt in a combat uniform. He checked himself out in the mirror opposite the lockers. The suit was a bit padded in some places, but all in all…not bad.

  “Your butt’s sticking out a bit, tough guy.”

  Joe’s head snapped around to see Jade leaning against one of the lockers.

  “Uh, it’s a bit tight. I think the Doc needs to let it out a little.”

  Jade walked over and placed a hand on the material, gripping one of the clasps. Giving it a quick tug she said, “It’s fine. You just need to break it in.”

  Joe detected a look of sadness in her magnetic green eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on, it isn’t nothing.”

  “The General asked me to stay here,” Jade replied.

  “What? Why? You’re field activated again. We need you out there!”

  “Walsh needs me for something to do with the Code disc. The General told me not to say anything more.”

  “It’s nothing dangerous, is it?” Joe asked.

  Jade raised an eyebrow. “What kind of question is that? We’re Peacemakers. Danger is in the job listing.”

  Joe felt suddenly foolish. “Well, yeah I know, I just remember you saying how much you wanted to get back in the field.”

  “The General says this is more important. I’ll take his word for it. There’ll be other times.”

  They were alone in the locker room now, the last Peacemaker having left to join the others on the parade square. Jade placed her hand over Joe’s chest, holding it there for a time. “Promise me, promise me you’ll watch that woman. She knows how much Danny means to you. She can use that against you. Don’t trust her.”

  “Hey, Agrippina’s going to be the least of our worries in Venezuela.”

  “All the same, I don’t trust her and neither should you.”

  “I’ve got this, don’t worry.” Joe gathered Jade into his arms and held her for a time.

  The locker room door burst open. A Russian voice hollered, “Joe are you in…oh no, save the lovey-dovey stuff for later. Time to go!”

  Ignoring Krieger, Joe kissed his girl. He held her close, enjoying the salty taste of her lips for the last brief moment they had together.

  After the moment was over, she gave him a light slap on the cheek. “Go…” Jade said, averting her eyes, “Go before I come with you.”

  Joe smiled and winked, “See you soon, ladybird.” He gathered his duffle bag and joined Krieger.

  Krieger grumbled as the two men joined their teammates outside, “Stuck in this Unit for two years. Why don’t I ever get the girl? Ni odna kaplya khvosta!”

  Chapter 10

  Easy Street

  Caracas Airspace, Venezuela, October 4th

  Sitting in the backseat of the low-flying Hyperion, Titus studied the incoming news reports from the local South American news centers on his PDA with intense interest. He’d only visited Venezuela once before and only for a few days. This time, his stay could be a great deal longer and he wanted to know as much about the current situation as possible.

  It was amazing to Titus how quickly the situation in a once stable (and booming) economy like Venezuela could topple so completely and so fast. Sitting atop the world’s largest reserves of oil and natural gas, the country had enjoyed a significant economic surge during the Presidency of Hugo Chávez. Following a failed coup in 1992, Chávez later won the Presidential election in 98 and led the country into an era of pro-socialist, anti-capitalist policies.

  What amused Titus so much about the country were the many, many chances it had to grasp pure greatness within South America. Venezuela was sitting on enough oil to pay the defense budget of every nation in the world seventeen times over, yet instead, its leaders and upper class populace cold-cocked its lower classes and licked the gravy spoon dry for years. Things stayed status quo until Chávez’s death in 2013. Massive protests, political demonstrations, and civil insurrection exploded across the country in the years following the president’s passing. Venezuela had, for years, dealt with high levels of urban violence, inflation and food shortages due to the government’s strict price controls.

  It all came to a head six months ago.

  Titus smiled to himself as he read through the fascinating article. The origins of war…always a source of endless interest to the Olympus Secondus.

  With their puppet President backed—some believed—by the Cuban Castro family, the Government began to fight with increasing severity against the civilian uprisings. Bloody gangs called colectivos— financed by the government and blindly devoted to a radical leftist cause—attacked students throughout the country. Government forces arrested, kidnapped or murdered demonstrators almost at random. The food shortage epidemic became insurmountable, and even rolls of toilet paper reached hundreds of bolivars in cost.

  It only took a single event to split the country completely in two.

  During a large civilian rally at a Government office last June, seventy-eight demonstrators were murdered with rifles and machetes, which quickly became known as the June Slaughter. While the President downplayed his role in the massacre, it was more than enough for the Opposition Forces to finally rally something of a resistance to try and topple the regime in charge. Hostilities broke out around the capital city of Caracas shortly after, with pockets of fighting between the newly formed VPA—or Venezuelan People’s Army—against the Government Forces.

  Massively outgunned, and having been too shortsighted to ask for foreign aid, the VPA was facing insurmountable odds. Venezuelan blood was spilling at an unprecedented level around the urban areas of the country.

  And then the Vagabonds arrived.

  Appearing as if from thin air, these highly trained, well-equipped guerilla fighters began striking back against the Government forces, allowing the VPA several strategic victories. The poorly trained Regular Army soldiers were unable to locate any cells of these renegade Vagabonds.

  That, Titus thought to himself, is where I come in.

  Olympus had followed the events in Venezuela closely over the last year. Tiberius had made the deal with Damien Sledge to acquire the use of his aeronautics division before the insurgency and it was Sledge who had brought Olympus to the attention of the Venezuelan government. With the governm
ent quickly losing whatever money it had left, Tiberius had negotiated a deal that would give the Olympus PMC a 3% cut of all Venezuelan oil exports over the next three years. In return, Olympus would launch an urban pacification effort to subdue the VPA.

  While putting down pistol-wielding students was child’s play for Olympus, it was the Vagabonds that Tiberius had failed to predict. While the Legate had been knee deep in his Orion project, Titus had taken advantage and negotiated his deal with Damien Sledge for the new drone army.

  “Interesting read?” a voice across from him asked.

  Titus raised his masked face from the PDA to look at his companion.

  “Very.”

  Vorena smiled. She sat in one of the passenger seats of the Hyperion, her obsidian body suit clinging tightly to her lithe form. Her honey blonde hair spilled down her shoulders, catching the sun that blazed through the window behind her.

  They were silent for a moment. The hum of the aircraft engines filled the cabin as Titus tried to think of something to say to the stunning woman.

  “What are you thinking, Secondus?” Vorena asked, breaking the awkward quiet.

  He cleared his throat, tossing the PDA to the small table attached to the aircraft fuselage. “I’m thinking Tiberius has wasted enough resources already in trying to pacify this country. He’s had over a month already, and even with all of our might, his leadership has proven ineffective against common mercenaries.”

  “The Vagabonds are anything but common.”

  “Oh?” Titus’s eyes flared behind his obsidian death mask. “You know something of these men?”

  “Men and women,” Vorena corrected him, “We’ve come up against the Vagabonds several times over the past few years and they always leave their mark on us.”

  Titus waved off Vorena’s comments. “Yes, yes, they know what end of the rifle is which, but we have the superior weaponry. Once I…I mean we arrive, we’ll put them to the true test.”

  “You’re forgetting something—” Vorena said with a sardonic smile, “—we have to find them first. The Vagabonds strike when they are least expected. Then they fade away like ghosts in fog. There’s a reason why Tiberius hasn’t managed to locate them yet.”