“Raven Actual, Master Chief Braden will be in touch with you as this goes down.”
“Raven Main, what about dropping a couple of SEALs to apprehend them?”
“Negative, Raven Actual. The minute they hear a helicopter coming toward them, they’re going to scatter and hide in those caves. Right now, we have drone eyes on them and they are moving toward the border.”
Well, hell’s bells. Travis scrubbed his face. “Roger, Raven Main. Do you have an ID on this kidnapped American?”
“Roger, am transmitting to your laptop right now.”
This was not what Travis wanted. He couldn’t give away his hide position. He’d been out in the mountains for weeks, hunting and waiting. “Hold, Raven Main,” he muttered, leaving his sniper rifle where it sat and moving into his hide. He grabbed his laptop, opened it up and then connected it via satellite phone. It was the only way to receive or transmit pictures and other intel. The screen was in low light mode so it couldn’t be seen by the enemy, who were always in the caves around his hidden position.
The color photograph, a passport photo, of Madison Duncan opened up. His heart jumped for a moment. She was young. He quickly scanned the passport and other provided information. Blond hair, blue eyes, twenty-six years old and from College Station, Texas. Hell, she was a Texas gal. That made this more important to him because he was from Texas. And it didn’t hurt a thing that she was damned good-looking. And single, according to the intel. Madison’s shoulder-length blond hair had been streaked several shades and colors by the sun. Her face was oval with a broad brow, high cheekbones and a beautiful mouth. Yeah, that mouth could get him into a lot of trouble, and he smiled to himself.
“Raven Main, you got anything else on the package?” Like, what the hell was she doing out here in the badlands?
“Roger, Raven Actual. She’s part of a U.S. agricultural mission to help the Shinwari tribe. Her father owns a Trakehner stud farm and she’s over here to look at Afghan horses and suggest better breeding methods to the tribe.”
Trakehners? Travis had heard about the breed but his familiarity was with the quarter horses on his father’s ranch. “Roger that. How did she get kidnapped?”
“According to the U.S. Marine Captain who was in charge of protecting this group, she slipped out of the house at dusk. They found evidence of a struggle at the horse corral.”
So, the Texas gal disregarded the Marine’s orders to stay with the group and remain guarded. Travis shook his head. Sounded like a Texas gal to him, all right. Strong minded, stubborn and, as a result, kidnapped. “Roger that. You said five horsemen?”
“Roger. All carrying AKs. They’ve got her bound and hooded. She’s riding in the center of the group and can’t possibly escape on her own.”
No, Travis imagined, she sure as hell couldn’t. He felt sorry for her, but he also felt anger. If the woman had trusted her Marine contingent she wouldn’t be in this fix.
“Any idea of what they’re going to do with her?”
“No. Our best guess is they’re going to move her into Pakistan and, most likely, demand a ransom.”
Travis sighed and quirked his mouth. “Either that or sell her as a sex slave.”
“That, too,” Lieutenant Scofield said.
Which was why she had to be rescued, Travis thought.
“Any idea who’s got her?”
“Roger. Hill tribe members, from what we can ascertain.”
Great, the hill tribe with Khogani leading it was constantly making war against the Shinwari. Both claimed the Khyber Pass area. And that was the only route between Afghanistan and Pakistan.
“Roger that.” Travis sighed. “That means I’m probably going to give away my hide, LT.”
“Yes, it does.”
“If I can spring her loose from those bastards, I’m on my own. There’s Taliban crawling all over this area. You won’t be able to get a Night Stalker helo down here to pick us up. I’m going to have to gun and run with her until I can get out of this immediate area.”
“Understood.”
“Keep me updated on their progress and location.” To Travis, this was looking like a FUBAR of the finest kind. There were thousands of Taliban and Al-Qaeda crisscrossing this border area. It was a hotbed of activity and one couldn’t just drop a helo into it because the enemy would see it, fire on it and, most likely, destroy it. No, if he could rescue this damned bull-headed Texas brat, it meant being on the run for days, possibly, before an extrication mission could be called to get them out of this area.
“Roger that, Raven Actual. Out.”
Travis put the sat phone down on his rucksack, scowling into the total darkness. There were thousands of caves all around this area. The Taliban used them regularly to hide from drone eyes and from the deadly Apache helicopters that stalked them.
He pulled the cover off his watch and saw that it was midnight. Rubbing his bearded jaw, he thought about the possibilities. He had to act fast. Once again, he examined the live video feed of the Taliban fleeing with the kidnapped woman. They were moving at a steady trot and it was clear to him someone had night vision goggles or they wouldn’t be able to ride through the darkness.
His thoughts turned to his buddies from back home. He and five others from Rush Springs, Texas, had been on the football team that captured the state championship. They called themselves the Sidewinders, striking like a rattler and beating more powerful teams. All six of them had a sidewinder tattooed around their right biceps. And during those four years, they were like football gods to their small Texas town in the panhandle.
Shortly after graduation, they all went into the military. And it didn’t surprise Travis that all six of them went into black ops. He grinned a little, thinking about Duke Carmichael, one of the Sidewinders. If he’d gotten this plate of hot potatoes, his good friend, who was a combat controller in the Air Force, would probably die laughing. Of course, Duke had been a real favorite among the girls at the high school, and he had a hell of a reputation for bedding as many as he could. Given that a woman was involved in this op, Duke would leap at the chance to rescue her.
Only problem was, he’d seen Duke at Bagram when he was finishing up an assignment with another SEAL team. Duke had been shot in the thigh and was headed for Germany on a C-5 to get patched up. His friend would be out of commission for a while, but knowing Duke, who was not one to sit around, he’d find a way to stir up trouble.
Travis missed the other Sidewinders. They did stay in touch, occasionally crossing one another’s paths in the black ops world. When they did, a cold beer at a bar was the standard celebration, filling in the blanks of what was going on in their lives. The last he’d heard from Duke was that he was bored out of his skull while healing up stateside.
Travis put the happy thoughts away and began to gather all his equipment and store it in the sixty-five-pound ruck he’d wear on his back. Normally, he was a very patient person, which was part of the sniper personality, but he wasn’t going to leave this hide until he was sure that group of riders would pass his way. He’d worked too hard, for nearly a week, finding this spot and creating a place where he’d not be detected.
If the group continued to come in his direction, he was most likely going to have to leave his hide, move lower on the slope and hope like hell he’d intersect them. If that group rode a mile away from him, he wouldn’t be able to stop them. And she’d be plunged into a void more terrifying than any nightmare. Damned stubborn woman.
He’d grown up on a West Texas ranch and knew all about Texas fillies who were unlike most other women.