Blood Eagle FULL AUDIOBOOK Part 4 of 4

This podcast may not be suitable for young listeners. Co name Wild Hunt, Operation Blood Eagle, written by Da Roberts and read to you by Cameron Buckner. Chapter fifteen, Dogfight, zero hundred hours, sixteen May, above Lake Nawelapi, Clark erupted from the end of the underground runway, pushing to full throttle. He knew the other planes were only minutes ahead of them, and they could only go as fast as the JAU fifty two. They were the

defenders of that transport and wouldn't leave it. Clark smiled, knowing that P fifty one could fly circles around the transport plane. He spotted the lights of the JAU fifty two heading south over the lake. He banked to port and lined up on the lights and began climbing. It was only going to take a few minutes before he caught up to them. The BF one O nine s were in a diamond formation around the transport plane. The moon was full

and bright, giving Clark great illumination. Thunder God to asgard, said Clark, go ahead, thunder God said the same female voice be advised, I'm in pursuit of five aircraft that have lifted from the compound, said Clark. Say again, thunder God said Asgard control surprise in her voice. How are you pursuing over? I'm in a P fifty one Mustang flying over the lake,

said Clark. We're heading south. They have the high value targets on a JU fifty two transport plane with four BF one O nine escort fighters. Henderman is flying the lead fighter. Personally, I'm going to engage over, thunder God. This is Asgard to actual boom the voice of General Dalton. We're calling in fast movers from the USS Harry S. Truman. They can be on station in thirty minutes. Keep them in sight until they arrive over. No can do, sir, said Clark. If they go into the

mountains, we'll lose them. Our only shot is for me to engage. Get recovery teams on standby. I'm going to splash as many of them as I can before they take me out over. There was a long pause before Dalton spoke, use your best judgment, son, said Dalton. How good a pilot are you anyway? Well, I guess we're about to find out, Sir, replied Clark. Thunder God out. Clark went into a steep climb, gaining over one thousand feet in altitude above the group of planes.

He had the advantage for now. They had no idea he was in the air. That would change the moment he attacked. He also knew he only had so much AMMO before or he'd be out. He'd have to make every past count. He felt his heart racing as the powerful aircraft responded to his every touch. It felt like an extension of him instead of just a machine, like it was a living thing. He decided that if he survived this, he was going to ask the General if he could keep it. He'd

have to survive first. He thought about Amanda for a moment and silently whispered his goodbyes. He knew he didn't stand much of a chance against five aircraft, and little to no chance once he hit the water. For one, it was cold enough to kill him in minutes. Also, there were the

shark men to contend with. What was it that Hines had called them die weeper high the white sharks somewhere below him, More than a dozen great white sharks with the intelligence of a human, were watching and waiting for a fresh morsel to hit the water. Clark shivered when he thought of what must have happened to the pilots of the apaches that were shot down. He whispered a silent prayer for them, and won for comfort for Amanda if he were to

die tonight, Amen, he muttered, he was in position. Pushing the stick forward, he dove towards the JAU fifty two, accelerating hard as he swept down from the sky toward his unsuspecting target. Lighting up his crosshairs on the cockpit, he held us fire until the last second. He was coming in from above and slightly to the starboard of the transport. At the last

moment, the coppilot looked out the window and saw him. Before he could raise the alarm, Clark squeezed the triggers, engaging all six fifty caliber machine guns. His rounds tore through the fuselage and into the cockpit of the light transport like a hot knife through butter. He saw blood explode into the windscreens seconds before it too exploded into leith little shrapnel for whoever was in the cockpit.

Instantly, the plane keeled over and went into an uncontrolled dive. The aircraft had three engines, one on each wing and one mounted in the nose of the aircraft. The burst had not only shredded the cockpit, but the nose engine was now bursting into flames. As the plane shot toward the water, Clark didn't see it, but at the last minute, the wounded plane leveled off just enough to avoid the water and then crash landed onto one of

the larger islands in the lake. There wasn't a fireball, but the plane was down, and it was highly likely that some of the passengers had survived the crash. Clark couldn't watch the plane's death. He had other problems. He pulled back on the stick and brought one of the measure schmidts into the crosshairs as he began to climb, ripping a quick burst. As he climbed, he saw the devastating effects of the fifty caliber rounds shred one wing and

part of the fuselage directly behind the pilot. The wing caught fire, and Clark saw flames licking up into the fuselage behind the pilot. He was going to have to ditch or die. The decision was made in an instant as the pilot opened the cockpit and dove away from the burning aircraft. Fuck yeah, shouted Clark as he climbed into the night. Below him, Two of the BF one O nimes came after him, while the other one banked away

from the dying aircraft. Clark hoped that the pilot of the plane was Henderman, but he couldn't tell what the flying helmet and mask in place. If he'd already splashed Henderman and the transport, then the rest of this fight didn't matter. He'd already won. Well done, edit, Clark, said Henderman's voice over the plane's radio. Clark hadn't considered that all Henderman's planes would be programmed to the same frequency. Reaching down, he grabbed the flight helmet and

slipped it on. I know it's you here, Clark, said Henderman. No other pilots that are familiar with these vintage aircraft in this area. It's me, said Clark, activating the calm. Sorry to hear you survived. I guess I'll have to rectify that, like you Americans like to say, said Henderman mockingly. You are welcome to try. I'm unmatched in dogfights over this lake. Sure you are, said Clark, because none of your flunkies would have the balls to outshoot you for fear of being executed. You've never

really flown against a pilot that wants you dead. Well, welcome to the first time we shall see here, Clark said Henderman behind him. Clark saw the two BF one o nines open fire, and he instantly banked hard to port and dove for the deck. They turned over and followed him, and once he had gained some air speed, he took a deep breath inside. I've always wanted to try this, he hissed. Pulling back onto the stick, he swept into a steep climb. Straight up, he pushed a full

power and held his course. Come on, baby, he said, feeling himself forced back into the seat with a combined force of acceleration and gravity. The plane continued to climb, and the BF one O ninees were right behind him, trying to match his maneuver. Come on, baby, he repeated, give me all you got. Clark saw the first one and then the other BF one O nine fall away while he continued to climb, but was slowing rapidly. When he reached his applegee, he leaned back and pulled hard

on the stick and then applied full rudder to port. The plane flipped around and was now facing directly down and started to accelerate rapidly. Hammerheads stall, bitch, he shouted, you fuckers can't do that. Pushing the aircraft to her limits, Clark shot directly at the nearest BF one o nine and raked it with his guns. It tried to bank away, but he ripped through

the starboard wing and sheared half of it off. The stricken aircraft went into a spin, and Clark knew that there was no way the pilot could eject if weeder shade, asshole, said Clark. Most impressive, said Henderman. You shall pay for this. Two to one now, replied Clark. I like these odds. Clark looked around and saw one of the BF one o nine flying level toward the burning debris on the surface of the lake that was the remains of another BF one o nine. Clark considered attacking the aircraft,

with the fault suddenly hitting where's the other one? From above him and to his right, one of the BF one o ninees came screaming out of a low cloud bank. It had to be Henderman, having ordered the other plane to attract his attention so he could make a surprise attack. Banking hard to starboard, Clark went into a steep dive before a burst of machine gun fire ripped through his fuselage just behind the cockpit. Clark kept diving but checked his

gages. He didn't see anything serious. Some minor pressure loss in the hydraulics, but it wasn't significant. It could get dangerous, but he was all right for now. The head had been minor, and as he began to level out over the water, he turned his head to check on Henderman. That's when he felt the pain in his neck. He reached back and found that there was a piece of shrapnel lodged in his neck where the trapezesa's muscle meets the spine, just above the shoulder. He yanked it out and he

felt warm blood oozing down. His back wasn't bleeding a lot, so he ignored it. Glancing around, he saw that the remaining two BF one O nine's were moving to catch him in a pinser maneuver, not this time assholes. He whispered and dough for the water, pushing for all the speed he could get. He leveled out of six feet off the water. He saw the two BF one on Nines approaching at an intercept angle. He waited until

he knew they were getting close enough to engage their guns. Come on, you, bastards, he thought, careful not to speak so that Henderman wouldn't hear him. He heard the machine guns of both aircraft engage, and he saw the tracers streaking through the night just ahead of him. Pushing the throttle down to almost nothing, he extended all flaps and the Mustang responded by slowing instantly to half her previous speed. The BF one O Nines overshot him and

raked each other with machine gun fire. One plane began to smoke, and the other banked furiously away, going to full power. Clark turned and went after the smoking aircraft, coming in from behind to the starboard side. Clark targeted the BF one on nine's engine and raked it with his guns and then cease firing. As he banked sharply away. The already smoking engine burst into

flames and completely engulfed the front end of the aircraft. The pilot tried to eject, but his flight suit caught fire as he was doused with burning fuel. He was immolated, and the man fell screaming to the dark water of the lake. Clark turned hard and raced away from the dying man to look for Henderman. Was your son of a bitch, roared Henderman. Clark pulled a stick hard to port as Henderman streaked toward him, firing his guns as

he approached. Clark tilted and turned, but Henderman stayed right behind him. Henderman kept firing burst from his guns, but Clark was constantly jinking back and forth, narrowly avoiding the worst of the deadly projectiles. One burst struck the back of the plane, and Clark could see that he was now losing hydraulic pressure at a much faster rate. Come on, baby, he whispered, thunder God to Asgard. Clark shouted, but didn't act activate his radio.

I'm hit losing hydraulics. I'm going to have to ditch in the lake. Over behind him, he saw Henderman level off and accelerate, moving to finish off what he thought was a dying aircraft, and Clark waited for him to get close before pulling back on the stick and going to full power. The graceful P fIF one climb like a homesick angel and powered into the night sky. Clark kept the stick back until he was inverted, and halfway through a roll. He flipped the stick over and hit the flaps, and he spun

over and emerged from the climb facing the other direction. He saw Henderman rapidly turning to port to get back behind him, and Clark pushed the stick starboard and shoved it to the red line. At the current rate of turn, Clark would get Henderman in his sights before he was in Henderman's I got you, you, son of a bitch, Clark thought. Henderman didn't see the danger until it was too late. Clark engaged the guns and strafed the BF one O nine. After just a few seconds of fire, the guns fell

silent. I'm out of AMMO, he roared. Henderman's plane shuddered and smoke was now pouring from the engine. He turned sharply away from Clark and headed for the mountain passes. Clark knew that that meant he thought he could make it to a haven. It had to be close by to reach it with a severely damaged aircraft. Oh no, you don't, snarl, Clark, banking after him. What are you going to do to me? Mocked Henderman. You have nothing left. I would live to fight another day. You

cannot stop me. Now we'll see, whispered Clark. Pushing the throttle forward, he caught Henderman in seconds and climbed slightly above him. He could hear Henderman laughing as he moved into position. Keep laughing, asshole, whispered Clark. Once in position, Clark pulled the stick over hard, inverted the aircraft, and slowly he began moving in over Henderman's aircraft. From the way the measure Schmidt was vibrating, Clark knew that he couldn't maneuver or risk falling out

of the sky. The BF one O nine was barely staying in the air as Clark eased into place just above Henderman. He held it with their cockpits less than six feet apart. What are you doing, your stupid American, asked Henderman, looking up. With one hand, Clark opened the canopy and felt the cold air rush into the cockpit. He shivered involuntarily, but held his course. He took a moment to lock eyes with Henderman. The older man glared back at him with all the hate and malice that he contained in

his long sense corrupted soul. What do you want, demanded Henderman. This replied Clark, Drawing the fifty gi glock on his right hip, he aimed and fired into the other cock pit. The first round shattered the plexiglass of Henderman's plane. The next three rounds ripped into Henderman's torso in the final three went into Henderman's skull, exploding it all over the cockpit. Audio's asshole,

said Clark, slipping the pistol back into his holster. He watched as the bfe O nine fell away from him and dove straight into the dark water of Lake Noel Api, vanishing into the abyss in seconds. Clark pulled the stick over and brought the plane back upright, and then banked and headed for the shore. He saw several black Hawk helicopters already searching the water for bodies or survivors. Another was landing on an island to look for survivors of the JAU

fifty two. Thunder God to Asgard Control, he said into his mic. Go ahead, thunder God, said General Dalton, what's your status? Over? Splashed all five aircraft, said Clark. Henderman is confirmed dead. There might be survivors on that island. I've sustained heavy damage to my aircraft and I need to put it down most ricky tick. I'm losing hydraulics and I'm low on fuel. Can you light up a section of the highway near the village where I can put it down? Over we'll make that happen. Thunder

God, said Dalton. Or should I call you? Ace? You splash five enemy aircraft in a P fifty one Mustang That hasn't been done since World War Two. I guess I'm going to have to put you in for a Distinguished Flying Cross, Ace, said Clark questioningly. Then his thoughts went to the card that Matthias had handed him before the assault on an Alco started reaching into his pocket, he pulled it out and there in his hand was the Ace of Spades. Why'll be a son of a bitch, he said.

Ahead in the darkness, he could see the shimmering lights of the village. Along the highway, he saw lights beginning to burn bright red. Someone was throwing out flares along the road to light it up for him to land on. Thunder God to Asgard, said Clark. I see flares. I'm coming in, copy thunder God and said Dalton, I'll see you on the ground. Firmative, sir, said Clark, thunder God out. He lined up on the highway and brought his nose against the wind. He began his descent.

He hit the landing gear and he waited for the thump as they locked into place, but there was no thumb. He glanced at his gages and he knew that he had to put it down now or he'd crash. This was his only shot at controlling the landing. Shit, he said. The hydraulics can't lock the landing gear. Not enough pressure. Come on, baby, let's bring this home. He cycled the switch twice more, trying the

landing gear. The ground was getting steadily closer. He was only two hundred feet off the ground when the thump came and the green light indicated the landing gear was now locked. That's my girl, he said, patting the instrument panel. That's my baby. He continued his approach and felt the engine begin to sputter. All those maneuvers and pushing her to her limits had drained the

fuel rapidly. He feathered the throttle and brought her in and the tires barked softly as they contacted the pavement, and he began powering her down, applying the brakes. Come on, baby, he whispered, holding the stick tightly. Seconds later, the tailwheel came down and made contact, and he throttled back and he cut the power and began to slow down. He laughed as he taxied off the highway and into a familiar parking lot. He just pulled

back into the driveway that led to his hotel. He taxied to the front of the hotel and pulled under the awning Fuck it, he said, grinning. Hector, can pour me a drink while I wait. He cut power and climbed out onto the wing. Welcome back, Sor, said Hector, as if airplanes pulled up to the hotel every day. I need a drink, said Clark. Of course you do, sir, said Hector. Come with me. Clark headed inside. Hector. When my friends show up looking

for me, said Clark, please send them to the bar. That's where I'll be very good, Senor, said Hector. Enjoy your drink. Chapter sixteen shock Waves, Oh two forty five hours, sixteen May via La Angostura. Clark was on his second glass and McCollen m single mault. When General Dalton walked in the room. Other than the two of them, the bar was empty. Dalton walked over and went behind the bar, stopping directly across from Clark, who was sipping the whiskey in his glass and staring off into

the distance. How's a Scotch, asked Dalton, not bothering to hide it is stick Virginia accent. Clark shook his head like he hadn't even realized the General was standing there. He started to snap to attention. Relax Son said Dalton, keep your seat. Dalton visibly relaxed, and then lifted his glass at the General. Damn good, sir, said Clark. Best I've ever had. Hell, it's the best I'll probably ever have. Couldn't afford a glass of this on what I may let alone a full bottle. Yeah,

that stuff's expensive, said Dalton. I generally stick to Bourbon myself. I prefer my whiskey from Tennessee. I've never been one for an expensive or fancy drink. I like Jack Daniels. I like my coffee straight up, just like my daddy and granddaddy took theirs. However, if this stuff is good, enough for the man who killed Hitler. Then I reckon I can try it. Dalton grabbed a glass from beneath the bar, and Clark filled it

with a generous poor Dalton nodded his appreciation. You ever decide to become a bartender, said Dalton, I'm coming to your bar. You pour a real goddamn drink, not that barely a sip stuff they do at most bars. Clark refilled his glass and lifted it to the general. They clinked their glasses and they both took a long pull before lowering them. That's smoother than silk, said Dalton appreciatively. But it'll put fire in your belly. That's not

bad. It was the most expensive bottle they had, said Clark, grinning. All of this was charged to Henderman's account, so I figured i'd celebrate a bit. Clark held up the bottle, offering a refill. I'll leave the rest for you to take with you, said Dalton. I want you to have some for later. Drink up, sir, said Clark, refilling his glass. I'm not worried about this bottle. I've got six more in my bag. Dalton chokled loudly before accepting the refill, Clark lifted his glass

and nodded at Dalton. To those who didn't make it, said Clark. They clinked glasses again, and to those who have gone before us, said Dalton. Clark nodded, and they drank deeply. You feeling better, asked Dalton, eyeballing Clark closely. My nerves were a bit shook when I landed the plane, said Clark. Honestly didn't expect to come back from that, especially at five to one odds. I got damn lucky. You might say you had an angel on your shoulder, son, said Dalton. I didn't

expect you to come back either. That was a hell of a thing. You should have heard the cheering and the command bunker. How did the arrest of the assault on Enolco turn out, asked Clark. Well, we took it, said Dalton. We had a few casualties, but less than I expected. We also found the survivors of that film crew who went missing. They were all in cells beneath one of the larger buildings. We're going to

get them on a plane back to Buenos Aire's in the morning. About the crews of those apaches, asked Clark, did any of them make it. We pulled all but two of them out of the water, said Dalton. Either the cold or the sharks got them. We couldn't find them. They might have ridden their birds to the bottom of the lake, said Clark. Well we considered that too, said Dalton. There were concealed anti aircraft guns hiding all above that cliff, goddamn eighty eight flat cannons, just like those

some bitches used on us in World War Two. Once they fired on the apaches, we locked in on their positions. The ghostwriters took them out. That's good, said Clark. Those guns would have made rescuing those chopper crews impossible. Well, that's why we took them out, said Dalton. You matter if I keep that P. Fifty one, Sir, asked Clark. Well, I'd be shocked if you didn't want to, answered Dalton. I'll arrange to have it transported back to Fort Lennard Wood for you. I assume

you'll want the same thing for the Catalina. I might just fly that one home, said Clark. I'll take part of the team and land it near my place on Table Rock Lake. That's a good idea, said Dalton, But make sure you're all fully debrief first, then I'm sure we'll be happy to let you have a few days to recover. We've still got work to do before that, the shark men, asked Clark. Exactly, said Dalton. We know from the files that Bauers sent us that there were twelve of

those creatures. They were all males, so there's no chance of any of them are going to drop a baby. And when is Clinton supposed to arrive? Asked Clark. Do we think his hydrophone thing will work? He came in right behind us, said Dalton. He and his crew had been setting up all night. They already cleared Lake corn Toso. We set up a sonic beacon in the river that connects corn Toso with Noelapi. They can't go back in there without tripping the sonics and explosives. We know they're in Nowelapi.

We've caught all twelve of them on pass so onar at least twice. Are we going to try to capture him, ask Clark, No, said Dalton. We already know the process is irreversible. This group is uncontrollable and there'll only be a threat to whoever they're around. We have to eliminate them. Well, how's Bauer, asked Clark. He's stable, said Dalton.

We're flying him back to the state so we can begin treating him. With the notes in the data that you recover from Mingele's lab, we should at least be able to stabilize him and give him the control that the other group couldn't get. Well, what's going to happen to him after that, asked Clark. Well, that'll be up to him, said Dalton. We'll either return him to Germany or offer him a job with the team. I hope he takes this job. Having him in control of his abilities and on our

side would make one hell of an underwater operative, agreed Clark. Bower's good man. I just hope this experience hasn't broken his spirit. He might not want to do any of it anymore. Well, that's possibility, said Dalton, taking another long pull of the whiskey. Thank you, sir, said Clark for what, asked Dalton for coming to check on me, said Clark. You didn't have to do that bullshit, said Dalton. When one of my men kills Hitler, I come to see him and buy the man or

drink. And by the way, I wasn't kidding about the Distinguished Flying Cross you've earned it. We were watching the entire thing from a drone camera. They're already calling you the last of the Army Air Corps aces. By the way, here, Dalton tossed a set of aviator wings on the bar. Those are just placeholders until I can find the actual Army Air Corps version, said Dalton. I'm making a special disposition for you. I just did what

needed to be done, said Clark. We couldn't let those assholes escape. By the way, were there any survivors? We pulled Canaris and Borman, along with a few staff members off the island, said Dalton. Down it was piloting the JAU fifty two. You took him apart with your guns. We were able to identify him, but there was zero chance he was alive. You've got to have a complete chess cavity for that to happen. Fuck him, said Clark, draining the rest of his glass. Exactly, said

Dalton. We're already interrogating Rommel. The others will get their time in the box when they're released by medical Canaris and Borman are both hurting the crash. Rommel was almost unscathed, and he's offered to tell us everything for asylum in the US. He does not want to go to Israel. We expect to get a lot of intel out of them. We're already planning a joint task force made of the Special Ops teams from several countries to be tasked with going

after other Nazi facilities. And we know for sure now that they have several others in South America and a few other places. We're going to find and eliminate all of them. Clark poured about two fingers of whiskey for himself and went to refill the general's glass. Dalton placed his hand over the top of his glass and shook his head. Good, said Clark. But I'm happy to let somebody else handle that. I think I'm content to go back to hunting monsters, well the non human type. Anyway, I've got a car

standing by to take you to a helicopter, said Dalton. I'll take you back to Valhalla to meet up with the rest of your team. By the way, I don't know what you said or did to Captain Nyan, but he's been singing your praises since the fighting ended. I think you made a hell of an impression on her. I can't imagine why, said Clark, shrugging. I barely spoke to her. Dalton shrugged and headed for the door. Nicely done, son, said Dalton. I'll talk to you later.

Clark finished his drink and headed out to the waiting vehicle. General Dalton's car had already gone. The young sergeant that was driving the vehicles saluted as he opened the back door of the captured antique Mercedes. He slid into the back seat and leaned back, and briefly he wondered what had happened to Yokim, but thought it best not to dwell on it. Still, it was a

beautiful car, probably wind up as General Dalton's staff car. They drove in silence until they came to an open field with lots of team personnel moving around several black haw helicopters sitting on makeshift landing zones. The sergeant drove Clark nearly to the helicopters and then stopped and came around to let him out. Clark nodded his appreciation and slung the large Sduffel bag over his shoulder, careful not to break the contents. As he was heading for the flight line. He

heard a familiar voice and turned to look. The team that was providing security for the helicopters was none other than Team or Ryan, and he saw most of the team too were present. He spotted Gunnery Sergeant Miller sitting on an am O crate rubbing his knee. Hey, Gunny, said Clark as he approached. Hey major, said Miller, starting to get up. Stay seated, guns said Clark. How's the knee? Well, let's fuck, said Miller toward the ACL and snapped a couple of ligaments. Well can they fix

it, asked Clark. Yes and no, said Miller. The surgery will undo most of the damage, but they say it'll put me off the team. I'll have to either take a desk job or retire. I think I might just take the pension and go if I can't be with the team. Shit, I'm sorry to hear that, Gunny, said Clark. Don't be said Miller. I've had a good career, and what a fucking mission to go out on. I mean, I'll never be able to tell anyone about it. But no, and I helped put down Hitler in the Nazi inner

circle. I can be happy with my career, knowing I did that. Now join the team to fight monsters. Who knew I'd end up stopping the biggest monster ever and it wasn't even a creature, just one evil, fucking human. Well you can be proud, said Clark. You did well, Thank you, sir, said Miller. Did you get those fuckers before they got away? I did, said Clark. None of them escaped. Fucking ay, sir, said Miller. Then it was a good day. Clark

opened the bag and handed Miller a bottle of the McCallan. Take this, said Clark. Have a drink with your senior people. Is this good Scotch, asked Miller. Oh it's damn good, replied Clark. Is it expensive? Round six grand a bottle, said Clark. Enjoy it. Your team earned it, Thanks Major, I know just who to share this with. We'll have to pour a bit into some canteen cups and have a drink later. Well, enjoy it, said Clark, turning his head for the chopper

leaving already, said a voice behind him. Clark turned to see Captain Knowing approaching with a smile on her face. I heard you barely brought that plane back in, she said, Are you all right, had a few close moments, said Clark, but she got me back down safe. They don't build planes like that anymore. Well, I'm glad you succeeded, said Nowang, smiling and brushing her hair back away from her right eye. It was good working with you, you two, captain, said Clark, smiling.

I gave your gunny a bottle of whiskey for you and your senior people to have a glass. Thank you, she said. You sure you won't stick around to have one with us. I wish I could, said Clark, But all father is waiting for me to come back to Valhalla maybe next time. Looking forward to it, she replied, have a safe flight. Thanks, said Clark, giving her a rare smile before turning back toward the chopper. As he was walking away, he heard Miller say something to her that

made her laugh. He didn't make it out, but he had the feeling that they were talking about him. You ready, sir, asked the crew chief, as Clark approached the chopper, Yeah, Chief, said Clark, take me to Valhalla. Clark sat in silence as the chopper spooled up and lifted off. Soon they were climbing over the village as they headed north toward Valhalla. It was only a short ride and they landed in a large clearing that was serving as a base of operations for the Midwest Division of the Wild

Hunt. It had turned into a military encampment since the last time he'd seen it. There were tents in rows and perimeter wires strung around the edge of the clearing. Patrols were moving with dogs, and several larger tents were set up for senior personnel Conscertina wire and fencing had been put in place at the edge of a large encampment. Thanks Chief, said Clark, slipping out of the chopper and ducking low to avoid the rotors, he no sooner cleared the

makeshift landing zone. When the chopper lifted off off and headed back south, he quickly found his way to the GP Medium tenth that was the field offices for Team Odin. Ducking inside, he found Saunders, csm Hammond, Specialist Wilder, Gideon, Gregel, and Murdoch all inside. They all looked up when they saw him walk in. Greetings, said Clark, Why aren't we set up inside Valhalla. That's the offices of Colonel Boudreau and his staff.

Said Saunders. We're out here. Well, he's missing out, said Clark. Why is that, asked Hammon. Because he might have the climate controlled mimic units, said Clark, But we have something he doesn't have. What did you bring, asked Hammond, giving Clark a sly look. Five bottles of McAllen m said Clark, grinning. Clark said Hammond, getting slowly to his feet. If you're messing with me, I swear I'm gonna shoot you. Clark handed him bag, which he quickly opened like a kid with a

present on Christmas morning. His eyes lit up when he looked inside the bag. Holy shit, Levi said Hamming. This is the real deal, like a five grand, a bottle six and some change, said Clark. You could put a hell of a down payment on a house with what's in that bag? Was that Daniel Clark? I just saw walk in here, asked a booming voice from the entrance to the tent. Clark turned around and saw

a bear of a man entering the tent. Built like a powerlifter. He had dark hair that was starting to go gray on the beard and at the sides. Clark recognized him instantly. Clint Bruce, you dirty old bastard, he said, heading for the newcomer, how the fuck are you? As Clark approached him, they could see that he was far bigger than Clark. Instead of a handshake, he reached out and picked Clark up like a small child and gave him a massive bear hug. Put me down, you crazy

son of a bitch. Wee's Clark. Hey, you leave my mother out of this, countered Bruce, dropping Clark from about a foot off the ground. Why, asked Clark, grinning. Does she still ask about me, you asshole, said Bruce, laughing and throwing his arm around Clark's shoulder. Hey, let me introduce you, said Clark, turning to the others. This is our Clint, Bruce said Clark, biggest dick head the Navy Seals

ever turned loose on an unsuspecting world. He's a hell of a guy, and I try to get him to come out of retirement for the team, but I'm fairly sure his wife would murder me with a cast iron skillet. You and me both, brother, said Bruce. This is Lieutenant Colonel Levi Saunder, said Clark, pointing that crusty old bastard in love with the whiskey is command, Sergeant Major David Hammond, a Sergeant Major John Gideon, Lieutenant

Nathaniel Murdock, First Sergeant William Gregel, and specialist Katie Wilder. Good to meet you all, said Bruce. Have we met before? He was looking at Gideon. You look familiar, said Bruce. Maybe, said Gideon. I've been in the marine since god was a lance corporal. I understand you're here to help us with our shark problem, said Saunders, changing the subject. That's the plan, said Bruce, grinning. Everyone grab a canteen cup, said CSM Hammond. Let's have a glass of whiskey like civilized folk.

Canteen cups were produced, and Hammond poured a generous measure into each one, emptying the first bottle of the McAllen. Once they were all served, they raised their cups in silent tribute, an unspoken toast for the ones who had been lost in the battle. Afterward, they all took a long sip. WHOA, that is good, said Hammond. It is, agreed, Saunders. Tastes expensive. I've had it once before, said Bruce, but I have to admit this is the first time I've ever had Scotch this good out

of a canteen cup. This is a first. I've drunk far better out of far worse, said Gideon with a shrug. Clark chuckled as he calasted at Gideon, but he said nothing. So when are we getting started on the shark problem, asked Murdoch. Well we already have, said Bruce. We planted ultrasonic hydrophones in parts of the lake. The sharks are sensitive to loud noises because of the overdeveloped tim paddic membrane, and once we activate the

hydrophones, they'll haul us away as fast as they can swim. We've got them position from the far end of the lake. At regular intervals, I'll drive them this way, and once they've been pushed to the far end of the lake, we'll use a specialized team to force them to the surface. Then it's up to your team to finish them off. Well it sounds easy, said Murdoch. Too easy, said gregel. Getting them to the surface might be easy, said Bruce. But I'm given to understand that these things

aren't easy to kill. So you're going to leave that to us, said Clark. Not going to get your hands dirty. That's not like you. I never said that, said Bruce. If you can hook me up with some gear, I'll be happy to go fishing with you. Clark looked at Saunders. Well he is a highly decorated Navy seal, said Clark. All right, said Saunders. Let's get him some gear. We might need the help anyway. We've got quite a few people in the med bay. But

when do we get started, asked Clark. The equipment's already in place, said Bruce. We go on your command. Colonel. It's been a long day, said Saunders. Let's give the team a few hours to rest. We'll go once the sun is up. We should all try to get some rest before then. Fair enough, said Hammond. It's not a bad idea. We've been running and gunning for hours. Let's go have a drink in my tent and catch up, said Bruce to Clark. I don't know,

said Clark. Last time I went out drinking with you, I woke up in a walter with a tattoo on my ass and I still don't remember getting That's fine, said Bruce. Once it's over, I'll break out the private stash for all of us. That sounds good, said Clark. Honestly, I'm exhausted, I'm gonna go crawl in a sleeping bag and catch some sleep. I'll show you where we put up your tents, sir, said Gregel.

I'll see you in the morning, said Bruce. They gave me quarters inside the mimic unit briefing here in the c Q ten at eight hundred hours, said Saunders. We'll be there, Levi, said Hammond. I'll have the coffee ready, said Wilder. Everyone's scattered, Gregel and Clark headed down the line of tents. There was a group of people from Team two gathered around the campfire, eating MRIs and laughing. Clark nodded at Gregel, and they stepped to the fire. How's everyone doing, asked Clark. We're all

right, said Valkyrie, smiling. Nice of you to join us, Sir, I just got back a few minutes ago, he replied. It's been a long night. Can anyone tell me who got hurt on the team? Eagle took a round through the shoulder, said Valkyrie. He's in the medical unit at Asguard Control. Probably be out of action for a few weeks. Anyone else, asked Clark. We got lucky, said shield Maiden. Most of our injuries were minor. CADUSI has took a round through the meat and

his calf. He's bandaged and he's fine. He won't be able to run for a while. Margolin took a piece of shrapnel, but I pulled it out and stitched him up. He's going to have a nice scar. But other than that, he's fine. That's good, said Clark. What about you, asked Valkyrie. Are you okay? Just really tired, said Clark, rubbing his neck. And I took a piece of shrapnel to the back of my neck during the dogfight. It quit bleeding, though. Sit down

and let me take a look at that, said Valkyrie. Clark started to protest, but she gave him the same look that Amanda gave him when he was at home and didn't listen to her. You don't get to give me that look, said Clark, grinning. We're only fake married. She grinned, and he took a seat on a log, digging out her medkit. She got up and again looking at the back of his neck with a small flashlight. Damn, she said, this should have had stitches. It's pretty

deep. Well, it's not bleeding now, said Clark. True, but the back of your shirt is covered with blood. She said. You lost quite a bit of blood. Well, it's not bleeding now, Clark repeated stubbornly. This is gonna hurt, said Valkyrie, probing the wound with her fingertip. Clark tens but didn't make a sound. I think there's still a piece inside the wound, she said. She old maid, when you get your kit and help me clean this out. Sure, said she ol,

Maiden, grabbing her pack. Within minutes, they had reopened the wound and were digging around with a pair of tweezers. Valkyrie pulled out three shards of plexi glass before she was intent that the wound was clear of any more shrapnel. They cleaned out the wound and put in eight stitches to close it, packing it with antibiotic ointment. They covered it with a large bandage. There you go, said Valkyrie. You're good as new. I'll change that for

you a couple of times a day for a few days. We can take the stitches out in a week or so. She handed him a handful of ib profen and he swallowed them without water. That's for the headache you're going to have by the morning, she explained. Thanks, said Clark, we should get some rest. We've got a job to finish in a few hours. You got it, boss, said Valkyrie. Clark got to his feet and nodded at Gregel. They headed off into the darkness until they reached a

small tent at the end of the row. This is yours, sir, said Gregel. Thanks will, said Clark, much appreciated. Gregel nodded and headed off into the darkness. Clark crawled in the tent and lit up a small flashlight, illuminating the interior. All his gear was there, including what he'd left behind when he jumped into the P fifty one. His weapons were all there, including his bounty knife, which he'd come to love. There you are, he said, checking the blade. He kicked off his boots

and shrugged out of everything except his T shirt, pants and socks. He crawled into his sleeping bag, and he stuffed the corner of his pack under his head for a pillow. True to the nature of professional soldiers, everywhere he was asleep. In moments, he found himself reliving the battle in the air, seeing things as if in slow motion. Only this time the guns were empty, and he was doing everything in his power to avoid being shot

down by the other planes. He banked and turned and fought hard to stay out of the enemy's sights. But it was a losing battle. There were too many of them and he had nowhere to run. Then the guns of Henderman's plane tore into his and he felt the plane tearing itself apart. He was losing control, but he fought like hell to keep the plane in the air. The fire was leaping from the engine compartment, and he could feel the flames licking up beneath him and into the cockpit, and smoke was everywhere

and he could barely see. He had to hold on to reach the shore or he'd go down in the frigid lake. He pulled back on the stick with all his might. He felt the nose start to come up when the stick suddenly went slack in his hand. The linkages had all broken. It was a dead stick and he had no control at all. The plane began to spin as it spiraled toward the dark water below him. He was only

one hundred yards from shore. If he could get clear of the plane, he might be able to make it before the shark Man got to him. He reached up and grabbed the canopy, and it wouldn't open it was stuck closed and there was no escaping the dying plane. He grinted his his teeth and he braced for the impending impact. The fire was now coming through the control panel and into the cockpit. At least the water will put the fire out, he thought fatally. I think I'd rather drown than burn to death.

The plane hit the water with tremendous force, and he felt his legs both snap at the knees. There was a stream filling the cockpit now as the flames were extinguished and the plane began to sink rapidly. The cockpit was now swiftly filling with water. He couldn't move his legs, and he knew that there was no chance of swimming to shore with broken legs. And as the plane began to sink, he knew the plane was going to serve as his water. He coughing on a one way ride to the bottom of Lake

Nauelapi. Then he heard something tapping on the plexiglass canopy. His heart raised with hope, thinking divers were about to pull him out of the wreck and take him to safety. The plane was now far enough underwater that only small bubbles of air in the cockpit was keeping him alive. The water was too dark to see more than a few feet from the plane. He turned towards the sound of the tapping and found himself face to face with the grinning face

of death. One of the shark men had found him and was about to pull him from the wreckage and devour him. He reached for his pistol, and he considered trying to kill the creature, but he thought better of it. At this depth, the bullets wouldn't go far in the water, but they would shatter the canopy. With thoughts of his wife, he put the pistol beneath his chin and closed his eyes, screaming, he pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. He racked the slide again as the shark man shattered the

plexiglass and reached for him, yelling. He felt strong hands gripping by the shoulders. He felt himself being violently shaking, and then there was a sharp crack of pain on his face, and he was jolted suddenly awake. When his eyes focused, he wasn't looking at the face of the dreaded shark man. He was looking into Valkyrie's blue eyes. She was hanging onto his shoulders tightly, saying something that he just couldn't hear. Slowly, he focused and

heard her words. When he quit screaming, It's okay, she kept saying, it was just a dream. You're okay, I've got you. Clark shook himself fully awake. He felt the wave of embarrassment rush over him. Everyone here looked to him for leadership and inspiration, and here he was losing it. Are you all right, she asked gently, Yeah, he said softly. That was a hell of a nightmare. I feel like an idiot. I never get those. It's fine, she said, smiling. We

all get them occasionally. I heard you screaming and I came to see who it was. Must have been a bad one. Are you sure you're okay? Yeah, he said, smiling. He looked at his watch and noticed that he'd been asleep less than an hour. However, with the adrenaline still rushing through his veins, he wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon. I'm fine, he said, trying to reassure her. I'm not going back to sleep anyway. I'm not sure I could now. If you want me to

sit with you, I will, she said. I'm a bit worried about you. I'm okay, he said, forcing a smile. I need some coffee and something to focus on for a while. I'll be all right. Valkyrie stared at him for a moment before she spoke, all right, boss, she said, but if you change your mind or just want to talk, you know where my tent's at. Thanks, said Clark, climbing out

of the sleeping bag. I appreciate that. It was a hell of a day, just a lot to process, but I think I'll be okay if you say so, she said, sliding back out of the small tent. Clark grabbed his boots and started putting his gear on. He could hear Valkyrie walking away, and he felt bad for not taking her up on her offer. Right now, the only person he wanted to talk to was his wife.

Even then, he just hold her until he felt better. He never talked about any of it to anyone, and deep down he knew that wasn't a good thing, and eventually he'd have to talk to someone. He climbed out of the tent. He did a quick check of his weapons and made sure everything was in place. He checked his blades, the bounty the gunners made on his hips. They were quickly becoming his favorite tools to carry. He made a mental note to look up scalleywag Tactical when he made it home

and order a bunch of blades. The night air was crisp, and he knew there would be a pot of coffee going on the fire. Heading for the fire pit, he found only one person was sitting there. He took a seat on the opposite side, and he found himself looking through the flames at get in you all right, as Gideon, I will be, said Clara. He dug out his canteen cup and filled it about halfway up with the hot black coffee from the old metal percolator sitting on the wire rack.

He could smell it before it reached his face. This was brewed, rough and strong, just what he needed to get him through the rest of this night. Wheren't you get your blades, asked Gideon, nodding at the bounty. It was a gift from Runestone, said Clara, drawing it and handing it across the fire. Gideon took the blade and felt the weight and flipped it around a few times. It's heavy, said Gideon, tapping the steel with his fingernail. It's good and metal, and the balance is nice.

This bastard is made for chopping off limbs and heads. I like it. I'll get you one when we get back, said Clara. No thanks, said Gideon. I'll keep my Gladia. I'm rather fond of it, just out of curiosity, said Clara. That's not your original one, is it, I mean from the Legion? No, said Gideon. I've had several from the Legion at different times, but the first one, that one's in my collection. I'd like to never use it unless I didn't have a choice.

The steal is old and likely brittle. Now I'll keep it as a memento, but it's earned its retirement many times over. I bet you could tell some stories, said Clark, As could you, said Gideon. To say, said Clark, The dreams will pass, said Gideon, What ask Clark? The dreams? Said Gideon, they'll pass. Don't let them break you. You're a sword, and swords come under a great deal of stress during battle. A sword that doesn't give will shatter. If it gives too

much, it'll ben and be useless. The trick is in the forging of the blade. The core of the blade is just as important as the edges. It's perfect harmony is required to make a perfect sword. The Japanese knew this better than anyone. I've ever seen. No one to cut, no one to bend. Find that balance. You're a warrior as true as any I've ever fought Beside. Clark thought about his words for a long moment before speaking. Thank you, said Clark. That's good advice. Gideon nodded and

said nothing further. He just stared into the fire, occasionally absent mindedly taking a sip from his coffee. Clark let the silence hang in the air. It didn't feel like talking, and Gideon wasn't pressing him. After several minutes, Gideon finally broke the silence. I was there, you know, he said softly. Clark almost didn't hear him. He thought of asking where, but he didn't want to interrupt Gideon. It was rare that he spoke of

his past. I was at the fall of Constantinople, whispered Gideon. I was a Byzantine drawing Garios, in command of the drugos of four hundred of the bravest men I've ever served with. When the Stratigos fell, I found myself in command of the last line of defense. Our job was to fight the retreating action to get Emperor Constantine out of the city before it fell. We failed, but the deeds were done that day, and they will resonate

eternally. Clark felt himself being drawn into the story and completely forgot the dream he'd had. He felt himself there fighting the desperate battle against the overwhelming forces of the Ottomans. Blood made the hilt of his sword slick and hard to hold on to, and all around him was violence and death. As the city fell, one thing kept him fighting. Gideon stood behind him, smiling in the face of certain death. He found himself doing the only thing he

could do, smiling, and he braced himself for the Ottoman attack. Chapter seventeen oh seven thirty hours, sixteen May, Team odin command tent, Clark walked into the command tent and saw that it was mostly empty. He looked around and found the only specialist, Wilder, sitting at the folding desk. Where is everyone? He asked? Looking around, Colonel Boudreau decided that the briefing was going to be in Valhalla. Sir, she replied, I think

everyone already headed in there. Nice of them to let me know, said Clark. Well, that's why I'm here. She said with a smile. However, I'm not invited to the briefing. But don't feel too bad, said Clark. Boudreau's meetings are rarely exciting, but she laughed and then caught herself and regained her composure. Colonel Saunders said almost the same thing. She

said. He's not wrong, said Clark. Hell the only enjoyment I ever get out of his meetings was watching Stratton roll her eyes every time they said something good about tea. I never understood why that woman hates us so much. The flap to the tent opened and Lieutenant Murdoch ducked inside. He looked flushed, like he'd been running major. He said, they want you in command bunker inside Valhalla. Immediately. Something's come up, dude, he calls,

said Clark, nodding at Wilder, I gotta go. Clark motioned for Murdoch to lead the way, and they quickly exited the tent. Murdoch looked at Clark with a questioning look, and Clark nodded. Both men broke into a quick pace, heading for the mimic units more than two hundred yards to the south. When they cleared the last of the tents, they broke into a sprint for the last seventy five yards. Clark pushed hard the last twenty

yards and managed to beat the younger Murdoch about a step. They arrived at the door to Valhalla, and the arm guards at the door saluted then opened the door for them. Clark returned the salute and stepped inside, and as soon as Murdoch entered, they closed the door behind them. Clark reached up and pulled off his green beret, and as he duck through the door into the command center, he saw that it was set up vastly different than before.

This wasn't a feel command center like they were used to using. This was set up for handling the logistics of large numbers of troops in combat, a full command and control tactical center with real time satellite and drone feeds and direct line communication to Asgard. This is why he wouldn't let us set up shop here, whispered Clark as he slid into the chair next to Saunders. Murdoch headed for the coffee pot and looked at Clark. He was about to

say yes when Hammond hit him on the arm and shook his head. You don't want that coffee, whispered Hammond. It's some Namby Pamby government vanilla cinnamon bullshit. It tastes like hipsters smell. Clark glanced back at Murdoch and shook his head negative. Murdock shrugged and poured himself a cup, and as he was starting back to the chairs, he took a sip. He froze midsip, spit it back into the cup, and turned around and poured it down

the train, tossing the cup in the trash. He came back sat beside Clark. I don't know what kind of anilla bullshit that is, sir, said Murdock. But it ain't coffee. Please tell me I didn't just sprout a man butt. It's the new battalion exec's personal favorite, whispered Saunders. I'd keep my opinions quiet, gentlemen. Clark looked around the room and saw

the heads of all the Midwest teams in attendance. He caught Major Nick Slayton's attention, and when he looked back, Clark scratched the corner of his eye with only his middle finger extended. Slayton, the commanding officer of tim Uller chuckled and shook his head. Clint Bruce got up from his chair at the front of the room and came back to sit beside Clark and the others. He handed Clark a stack of styrofoam cups with a large black thermous. Here

you go, brother, said Bruce. Real coffee already had a cup. Oh you're a life saver, said Clark, opening the thermos and inhaling the aroma of the strong, dark liquid. Strong as fuck, said Bruce. Heavy caffeine's needed for heavy shit. Bless you, said Hammond, nodding in appreciation. Clark began handing out cups to the rest of his teammates and then began pouring. Slayton slipped over and Clark gave him a cup. Muchos graciass, said Slaton, grinning. Just remember who's got your back, Slaton,

whispered Clark. I'll get you back in the monthly poker game, said Slaton. I've got to get back to the front, said Bruce. They might want me up there to explain what we're doing. Thanks, Clint, said Clark. Bruce just gave him a wink and the thumbs up, and then headed back up front. They all leaned back in their chairs, sipping the strong coffee while Murdock felt the top of his head. Just to be sure, Ladies and gentlemen, said Colonel Boudreau. Let's get the briefing started.

Now that everyone has arrived. The big display board changed to an overhead view of the area that could see the area centered around in Nalco. Clark thought it was just an image until he saw a car driving down the highway. It was a real time feed, almost likely from a high altitude drone. This is our target area, said Boudreaux. We're going to attempt to force the sharp men into this area. He lit up a spot on the map

near the beach in front of a Nalco. With the implementation of the sonic devices put into place by mister Bruce and his team, said boudreu, we believe we can drive them to this area. Once they are contained, we're going to attempt to force them out of the lake and on to the shore. Once that is accomplished, we will eliminate them with an intense strike. We don't intend to risk the lives of our team, so we will be deployed to contain only the strike will be carried out by drones. Clark bristled

but said nothing the way Boodreu said, mister just didn't sit right. Then there was the fact that this was unlike any previous operation. Something was different. They were suddenly playing it cautiously when the objective was within sight. He looked over at Sanders and he saw the same look of bewilderment on his face as well. Why, asked Clark, standing up. Excuse me, Major, said Boudreau. Can I help you with something? Yes, sir,

said Clark. Why are we changing protocols? Drone strikes are messy and in the resulting explosions and smoke, we could lose one or more of the creatures. We need boots on the ground to verify they're all dead. I mean, drones are good, but nothing replaces precisions still on target that you get with the field team engaging the creatures. That's why we train. Boudreau looked at angry, but took a deep breath and excel slowly. Sit down,

Major, said Boudreau in a low and menacing tone. Slayton stood up. I agree with Clark, said Slaton. This is a huge change in protocol. If even just one of these things gets away, we might never catch it again, and there are dozens of lakes in this area for it to hide in. Saunders and CSM Hammond stood up, along with the commanders of Team Scottie Tire and Freyer. Boudreau looked like he was about to have a stroke when the main monitor changed. I'll take this question, if you don't

mind, Colonel, said General Dalton from the large screen. Yes, Sir, said Boudreau, stepping back away from the podium and glaring daggers at the assembled officers and senior staff. Ladies and gentlemen, said General Dalton, please take your seats and I will do my best to answer your question. Everyone looked around at each other and then sat down to hear the General out. A large cache of intel was retrieved from the Lalco Manor House by Lieutenant Colonel

Saunders and his team. We began pouring through it immediately and discovered something that directly affects our operational security for the entire mission. Everyone exchanged concerned glances, but didn't interrupt the General. We found a list of operatives that had been infiltrated into different governments and militaries by the Nazis, said Dalton. We immediately began dispatching teams to take them all into custody. One name stood out from

the others. Lieutenant Colonel Elizabeth Stratton was listed as an operative in place. I contacted the Air Force Chief of Staff to have her detained and found that she was gone. She's in the wind, and we have no idea where she is. Clark frowned and saw Saunders greeting his teeth. That fucking bitch, whispered Saunders. Matters worse, said Dalton. We have it on good authority that the real Elizabeth Stratton died at birth and this person assumed her identity.

Her parents were both dead, and she was able to pass a rigorous background check because no one thought to check for death certificates under that name. We failed to identify her before she could infiltrate this team, and we have to consider everything we've done to know to be compromised at this point, no offense general, said Clark, standing up. But who the hell is she? If these documents are to be believed, and it appears they are legitimate,

said Dalton, then she is Henderman's daughter. Murmurs. Rumbled around the room as the shock of that statement set in. We have to assume that she has already compromised this mission, said Dalton, Sir said Clark. Yes, Major, said Dalton. You canned her before we were briefed on this mission, said Clark. She might have found out where we were going, but it would have been too late for her to do anything about it.

She was already removed from our clearances and security protocols Dalton looked like he was considering it for a moment before he scratched his chin and nodded. I believe you're correct, said Dalton. I did relieve her of command before briefing you. By the time you landed in Florida to refuel, I had already walked her into the Air Force Chief of Staff's office. It would have taken her days to figure out where we sent you. Then let us do our job, Sir, said Clark. General, if I may, said Bruce,

I think Major Clark is correct. This will require precise targeting of these creatures. If this is going to work, If they get away from the trap, they won't fall for it again. The best we'll be able to hope for is to drive them away from an area. They won't allow themselves to be funneled into a small area. Again, honestly, I think we're going to get one shot at this. I'm willing to go with them to make sure this works all right, Commander Bruce said Dalton. If you feel that

strongly about this, you can go with Team Odin. Odin will be the tip of the spear directly on the beach at Analco. The other teams will be placed where they can engage should the sharp men attempt to come ashore unexpectedly. We need to get the teams in position before setting off the sonics, said Bruce. They also need to remain out of sight. If they sense a trap, I doubt they'll come ashore. The sonics are painful, but

they still won't knowingly walk into something that they know could kill them. You heard the man, said Dalton. How long will it take to sequence of sonics to drive them this direction? The sonics are already in place, said Bruce. Give the word and will initiate. It will take approximately an hour to drive them the length of the lake. We don't want to push too fast, or we risk pushing them onto the shore long before we're ready for them. Let's get the teams into positions, said Dalton. As soon as

they're in place, activate the sonics. Yes, sir, said Bruce. Everyone said Dalton, your positions and deployment locations are being uploaded to your risk computers. Now let's move dismissed. The briefing broke up, and Boudreau was still glaring darkly at Clark, but said nothing. Clark had a definite feeling that Boudreau was still angry over Stratton. That was always the possibility that he'd been turned by her. Hopefully General Dalton had already thought of that, but

Clark intended to keep an eye on him regardless. So what do you need, asked Clark, nodding at Bruce. Give me all of your guys who are steal qualified or have underwater experience, said Bruce. You're not planning on going in after them, are you, asked Clark. If you build a trap, you got to have bait, said Bruce. Don't have a choice. We'll get one shot at stopping these things. We've got to make it count, Murdoch, said Clark, glancing to his left. Yeah, boss,

said Murdock. Give me the following people, said Clark, Runstone, Reard, Bedford, Palermo and the Brett Atkinson. Got it, boss, said Murdoch, heading for the area where Tima Odin was gathering. Five. Asked Bruce. I guess we can make it work with the six of us. I can pull from the other teams too, said Clark. Well, I'd prefer to have at least ten, said Bruce, if you can swing it. Hey, Hernandez shout at Clark. Captain Philip Hernandez from Odin's team

four looked up and headed for Clark. What's up, major, asked Hernandez. Can I borrow your seals? Asked Clark, Sure, said Hernandez. Can I ask why? Special underwater team, said Bruce. Looks like we're going to have to go in after these things, got you, said Hernandez. I'll round them up and send him your way. I'll ask Saunders to send his two, said Clark. Thanks, brother, said Bruce. Have everyone meet me at the c Q ten in fifteen Roger Wilco, said Clark,

turning and heading off to fine Saunders. Fifteen minutes later, there was a group assembled from tim Odin's team. There was Chief Petty Officer Hector Garcia, From Team two there was Senior Chief Petty Officer Samantha Alvarez Runestone, Petty Officer first class Thomas Reardon, Petty Officer first class Chuck Bedford, Petty Officer second class Gilbert Palermo, and petty Officer Harry Atkinson from the British Special Boat

Service. From Team three there was Senior Petty Officer Damian Reynolds and Chief Petty Officer Max Brewer. From Team four there was Petty Officer second class Joseph Rains and Petty Officer first Class Tim Lane. Nicely done, said Bruce, looking over the crowd. Ten plus me. We can make it happen. With that, we could probably round up a few more from the other teams, said Clark, if you need them for some reason. We don't get a lot of seals trying out for the teams. We'll get far more Marines and

Army than anything else. Well, don't bother, said Bruce. There has to be someone left to try again if we fail. Also, I'll put the word out in certain circles and see if I can't change the demographic on the seals with your team. Well, let's just not fail, said Clark. If you need me. I'll go no offense, brother, said Bruce. But no thanks. You're scuba certified, not rated on a dragger rebreather. You're also not a combat diver, so stay here and lead your people.

We'll do our part. Then let's get in place, said Clark. We'll set the snare, you just bring them to us. Clark headed off toward where tem Odin was waiting while Bruce prepared the seals. They gathered their gear and headed for a pair of Blackhawks that were waiting to take them to their staging area. Listen up, boys and girls, said Bruce. Nothing brings a shark to dinner quite like live bait. Welcome to Team Bait. I think Team Chum has a better ring to it, said Runstone. You

might be onto something there, said Bruce with a chuckle. Once everyone boarded the choppers, they lifted immediately and turned toward it Almalko. It was only a few minutes away. By aaron. They arrived without incident. There was a security team from Team Oriyan in place to make sure that no one tried to retake this place. Bruce found himself hoping that none of them were left to try, but he knew that was just being naive. The Intel had

already told them that there were others out there. Justice would be coming for them all very soon. Get your shit on, roared Bruce. As they hit the deck, the black Hawks lifted off and headed back toward Valhalla. The Sonics are already going off, shouted Bruce. We need to be in place, in place where, asked Runestone. If you'll all check the bags we set out for you, said Bruce, with a grin. You'll find the latest metallurgical technology. The shark suits in these bags are made of titanium

alloy, capable of withstanding three times the bite pressure of previous suits. That means you can withstand the bite of a great white shark. I don't recommend it, but it can't bite through it, Yeah, said Palerimo. It'll still fucking crush the bone under the suit. Ding ding ding, said Bruce. Give that man a prize. Oh awesome, said Palermo. What do I get a date with? Runestone, said Bruce. Aw shit, muttered Palermo. I got the consolation prize. We all laughed as they prepped their

suits and started putting on their gear. We're going in the water, said Bruce. We have limited time because of the coal. Make sure your dry suits are sealed properly. These are state of the art. We should have plenty of downtime to finish this. I heard a team of Argentine's Special Forces was taken out by these things, said Bedford. That's true, said Bruce, but we have an advantage. They didn't the suits, asked Palermo. Grinny that in the fact, we're US Navy, fucking seals, roared Bruce.

The men thundered their approval. We've got more new choice, said Bruce. You're all familiar with the standard bang stick, well, emphasize the bang. You're going to get more bang for your buck with these bastards. Six feet of aluminum titanium shaft with a rotating barrel on the end, using a twelve gage magnum rounds loaded with double locked buck shot and chunks of pure potassium. Resulting boom should cripple or kill your target. Bruce had now the rapt

attention of the entire team. Hit this lever on your end of the pole, said Bruce, and it cycles over and gives you another shot. You get five, Now make them count. Oh yeah, one other thing. If the ship really hits the fan. You can hold the grip down and hit the trigger at the same time, and it fires all five rounds at once. I don't recommend it. I tried it on the range and nearly broke my fucking arm. It hurt for two weeks. He began tossing the

bangsticks to everyone. Now listen. Reloading is easy, said Bruce, but you'll have to service to do it. You replace the entire cylinder on the end. Don't take a spare. It's not a fast reload and it's heavy. Concentrate on using your five shots. Well, okay, who the team roared. You'll all find an odd looking pistol with your gear, said Bruce. Looks like a grenade launcher that shoots around with an air bag and an air canister. When you kill one, hit it with that pistol, the

bag will inflate and take the body to the surface. It holds five shots. We need to recover all the bodies to verify they're dead, and to be sure we got them all. Everyone nodded and clipped the strange pistol to their chest harnesses. Last thing, said Bruce. In addition to the amphibious version of the glock, seventeen. You'll be carrying one of these. He brought out an odd looking rifle that looked like a strange version of the AK

forty seven. This is a Russian APS underwater rifle, said Bruce. You can reload these underwater. It holds twenty six rounds of one hundred and twenty millimeter long by five point five six millimeter caliber bolts. It's got much better range than the spear guns we all trained with. Shoots like a fucking ag and I know damn well all u assholes know how to use those. Gotta love the goddamn Russians for sticking to a simple design that works. Once everyone

had their gear in place, Bruce led them to the water's edge. According to sonar, we've got about ten minutes until those things get here. We're going to get in the water and hide in the rocks on the west side of this lagoon. But do not engage until I give the order. We want them contained and to drive them onto the shore, and then tim Odin will rock their shit unless we do it first, said Runstone. I love that attitude, said Bruce. All right, Colm's check. Everyone slipped their

dive helmets on and connected them to the dragger rebreather on their chest. One by one, they all checked in. Everyone checked clear, and Bruce motioned for them to follow him into the water, and as they were submerging, he saw two chin Uk helicopters landing on the forest out of the main building. Clark and Team two had just arrived on the scene. Bruce smiled and

slid into the water backward beneath the surface. It was surreal. The cold water prevented a lot of vegetation from growing, and it seemed more like they were on the surface of another planet than in a lake on Earth. Bruce motioned for the group to follow him, and he led them to the group of large boulders. Once they were behind them, it would be almost impossible for the sharkmen to see them come to Papa, thought Bruce. Across the

compound, Clark was the first set of boots on the deck. He immediately motioned for all of them to fan out using hand gestures, and he sent part of the team to the east corner of the building while the rest went to the west. Four people on each team were carrying special compressed air launchers that fired arrows attached to steel cables so they could recover the bodies for Valkyrie. Himdall Scald de la Cruz to come over to him. All right,

said Clark. I want you both on the balcony on the second floor of the main building. It faces the water and gives you a clear line of fire. Himdall, you're spotting for both of them, got it, boss, said Heimdal. Make your shots count, said Clark. We can't let any of these goddamn things get away. We won't miss fa said Skald. We've got your back. Valkyrie just gave Clark a concerned smile. Go, he said. We don't have much time left. He looked at his wrist

computer and Clark checked the feed from Asgard. Seven minutes until they arrive, said Clark. Get in position and watch for friendlies. We've got a team in the water. Clark headed around the west end of the building while they ran inside to get to their positions. Clark took his place at the front of the group, knowing Murdoch was doing the same on the other side, stepped up beside Clark and nodded, I'm right beside you. Major, said

Beer. Kodiak was standing a short distance away, checking over his many gun Rayon was beside him, wearing a duty uniform but no armor or weapons. Clark knew she planned to shift forms that they needed her. She wasn't a military combatant, and Clark couldn't help, but wonder how Gregel Kodiak and Rayan would fare against the shark men out of the water. In the water, it wasn't even a contest. The sharkmen owned the water. Clark checked the

load on his AA twelve. He'd gone back to it since it would fire under almost any circumstances, even if he had to go in the water. It was almost unstoppable as a weapon. It was even loaded with the flatget rounds, which Sergeant Hall had altered to use directly against the shark men. The process that created them was based on the same shape shifting ability that Rayan

had. She was more than happy to give blood samples so they could figure out how to hurt them silver mixed with tincture of aconite commonly known as wolf's bane below the surface. Bruce checked his computer. They had four minutes. Temperature gages were good, and they still had plenty of down time. The draggers made certain that they wouldn't run out of air for a long time.

They were only forty feet down, so they wouldn't have to worry about coming up too quickly or having to decompress beside the thunder God, said Bruce. Go Poseidon, said Clark. Four minutes till game time, said Bruce, We'll try to save you a few copy that, said Clark, just don't get eaten. I'm not explaining that to your wife. Bruce laughed into his mic me either, said Bruce, I'm more scared of her than these sharp

things. Siding out, Bruce checked his wrist computer. Three minutes remaining for twelve of the deadliest predators in the world anyone had ever seen were in attack range. His heart raised in anticipation, and he had to force himself to calm down. It was an old breathing trick he learned years ago. Divers had to find their zin or risk burning through their oxygen too fast, and

he knew he was going to need every second of it. Chapter eighteen, Blood in the Water, eight thirty seven hours, sixteen May late Nawelapi. Clark felt the buzz of the alarm on his risk computer. It was signaling that the shark men were now in range of the dive team. Clark at the coms for the entire team. They're here, folks, he said, look sharp above him. Valkyrie took the covers off her scope and began sweeping the surface of the water. Skull did the same, while Heimdahl began glassing

the surface with his powerful spotter's scope. So far, they hadn't seen so much as a ripple on the surface. Clark's risk computer vibrated again. He just received a message from Bruce. It read simply visual contact. Fuck, whispered Clark, tightening the grip on his weapon, reaching for his mighty sent a quick command. Thunder God to tire, said Clark. Move into the trees and advance toward the water. Stay out of sight, over copy, said Murdoch. Take point, said Clark, nodding at Beer. Beer began

moving rapidly toward the trees. Once inside the tree line, he found the patrol trail and began leading the team toward the water. Clark followed close behind Beer, with Kodiak right behind him. Margoline moved up next to Clark and glanced at him. Clark couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a serious look on his face. I fucking hate sharks, he whispered as he fell into step next to Clark. Wait till you see these out of the water, said Clark. I saw the ones in the tank, said Margolin.

That was Gen two, said Clark. Gen one is bigger and less human. I think that's why they couldn't control them. Well, fuck me, whispered Margolin. Beneath the water, Bruce watched the darkness for signs of movement. He'd gotten a glimpse of one when he'd message Clark, and then nothing. According to the passive so our feed, they were close. It was almost like they were sensing the trap. Where are you, you bastards,

he thought. He didn't dare risk using the radios. Water conducted sound far better than air, and even a faint noise would travel a long way. They also had to contend with the fact that these shark men had extremely sensitive tempanic membranes. They could hear even the smallest sounds from a great distance. They could also smell blood in the water for miles. They keyed in on the sounds of distress, things that didn't belong in their environment. Deliberately slowing

his breathing, Bruce fought to keep his heart rate under control. While he doubted that they could hear his heart beating, he knew that staying under control meant everything underwater. Any loss of controller judgment could get them all killed. Bruce wasn't going to let his brothers down. Come on, Clint, he thought the only easy day was yesterday. The familiar mantra calmed him and he focused like a laser on the task, and once he resumed his rigid self

control, he noticed something he was missing before. There were dark shapes in the water just at the edge of their vision. They were swimming back and forth, looking over the entire lagoon. That meant they were coming toward them. As they methodically searched for any sign of a trap, the tension was building in all of them, and Bruce knew that something had to break.

Inspiration struck him and he tapped out a on his wrist computer, sending it to everyone on the dive team and Clark, get ready, it said. Taking out his dive knife, he reached slowly over to the rock and tapped on it with the steel. Immediately, he saw the dark shapes turn toward his direction, but they didn't approach. Tapping twice more, he saw them begin to move slowly in their direction. Slipping the knife back in the scabbard on his leg, he prepared his bangstick. All right, assholes, he

thought, come to Daddy. Slowly and menacingly, the dark shapes crept closer until they were able to start making out details. They were built like sharks, but had both arms and legs. The fingers and toes were webbed with claws on the tips, and the legs and arms acted as fins. They had large dorsal fins like the great white, and a long tail, but

there the similarities ended. From straight on, the monsters faces looked almost human, almost, and as they got closer the similarity faded away and they were revealed as the deadly predators they were. Bruce felt his blood go cold at the sheer size and power of the creatures. They were massive, easily ten feet long or more. They moved like sharks, but they seemed to have

a presence of mind that you don't find in true sharks. These things were not only reacting to their surroundings, but they were studying it, observing it, and adjusting their approach based on what they saw. The biggest one was at the center and he appeared to make a few hand gestures, which caused the others to fan out. On the biggest one's arm was what appeared to be a tattoo. They all had the same tattoo, and Bruce recognized it

from the file he'd read. They were from the German Kriegsmarine. Game time, whispered Bruce. As the sharkmen's swam slowly toward them. Bruce realized they were in formation, like a military patrol. The creatures remembered enough of their humanity to use tactics. Well fuck, he thought. One of the creatures swam forward and seemed to be looking at something to Bruce's left. He held still as the creature drifted closer and closer, watching the spot with intense focus.

Bruce flicked his eyes that way and saw a large fish moving among the rocks, eating something on the ground. The shark men realized it was a fish and started to back off, but he'd gotten too close. Now, snapped Bruce, driving his bangstick into the beast's head just behind the black eye. The bankstick made a dull crump under the water, and instantly the beast's head exploded as the buckshot and the potassium reacted with the water flesh and brain.

The creature thrashed violently before going still and floating dead in the water. All around him, Bruce saw his team go to work with their aps rifles, firing into their targets using control shots instead of auto fire. He could see the trail of bubbles made as the high speed bolts shot through the water. Two more of the creatures stopped moving as the other creatures scattered and put distance between themselves and the seals. Bruce shot one with a canister and it

instantly inflated, taking the body on a rapid rise to the surface. The others quickly followed suit and sent a total of three monsters up for recovery on the surface. When the three creatures popped to the surface, they were shot with barbed arrows attached to steel cables, and once the arrow was secure, they used a winch to haul them to shore. Nine Togo, said Bruce,

tapping a set of commands on his Wrisk computer. They all heard the sonics increase, forcing the shark men deeper into the harbor and to the shore. Move it ordered, Bruce pushed him into the shallow water, breaking cover. The team began swimming in an arc to block the deeper water from the shark men. It was a dangerous ploy, but a necessary one. The sonics were painful, but the shark men could fight through it and die for

deep water. If that happened, they might never have another chance to catch them, and they would go on hunting these water for many years to come. No one in the area would be safe, especially since the creatures could come onto land as well. As they moved forward, one of the creatures suddenly appeared from the darkness below them and grabbed Palermo by the legs, biting into his left thigh. They didn't see blood erupt so they knew the shark

suits held. Palermo screamed, but pulled out the canister gun and jammed it through the gills on the side of the beast's neck, and then pulled the trigger. The creature released its grip and began to dig frantically at its neck for the airbag inflated, forcing its eyes out of their sockets and distending the entire head. It rocketed toward the surface, still digging at its face.

Palermo said, Bruce, what's your status over? I think that thing broke my fucking leg, he said, trying to hold his position in the water. I can't move it, Bedford said, Bruce, get him out of here. He needs a medic on it, Boss, said Bedford. As he swam for Palermo, Bruce saw a creature materialize out of the darkness behind him. Before he could shout a warning, the creature gripped Bedford's helmet and ripped it off. Bedford tried to hold his breath, but the creature snapped

forward and bit his head off. Motherfucker, snapped Bruce, swimming hard toward the creature. It turned toward Bruce with an evil grin on its nearly human face. The grin vanished when Bruce drove the bankstick into its throat and discharged all remained charges. The resulting explosion tore the head apart, leaving it hanging onto the rest of the body by the thinnest of strands of flesh. Palermo put a canister into the beast's back, and it was pulled toward the surface,

trailing blood and soft pieces of tissue. Five down called Palermo, grabbing Bedford's headless body and activating his emergency vest as it inflated, Palermo pulled Bedford along with him, and Bruce knew they had to buy them time to be recovered before the sharp men picked them apart. In the water from below, one of the creatures shot to the surface in pursuit of Palermo. It stuck

his head out of the water and looked around. Before it could even focus, valkyrie put a forty five seventy explosive tipped round through its forehead, brains and tissue, and an eyeball flew into the air. As it rolled over onto its back in the water, an arrow streaked out and stuck deep into it chest. The line went taut and began hauling it to the shore. At the shoreline, Palermo was waving and trying to pull Bedford onto the beach. His legs still wouldn't work, and he was pushing as hard as he

could with the one that still worked. He was in less than three feet of water, struggling to pull the body of his friend when one of the beasts erupted out of the water and reached for him. It let out an ear piercing shriek that was not human. In the slightest the creature stood nearly eleven feet tall, and its tail was thrashing in the water behind it,

stirring the surface into a white froth. It grabbed Palermo by his bad leg and twisted, and Palermo screamed in pain and began digging his hands into the soft soil of the shore to keep the beast from pulling him back below the

surface. It wasn't even a close contest. The beast pulled him without effort, and Palermo could hear it laughing mockingly as it taunted him, And just as he was about to go back under, another roar split the air, Kodiak slammed into the shark Man with the force of a freight train, sinking the massive canine teeth of his bare form into the back of the shark Man's neck. Kodiak dragged it, shrieking and kicking, out of the water and

up onto the shore. Now it understood how Palermo had felt when all its strength was for nothing against the juggernaut that was Kodiak. As it slashed a Kodiak with its horrendous black claws, Rayon snarled and dove onto its chest and slashed out its throat with her claws. Kodiak released his hold on its neck and then sank his claws into the gill slits just below the head and pulled. There was a wet, tearing sound as he ripped it off and threw

it nearly one hundred feet up the hill toward Amalco. Another creature leaped out of the water and dove onto Kodiak's back, and as it tried to bite into his massive shoulder, a bullet struck it in the open mouth and exploded out the back of its head. Scald was now on the scoreboard, making it one to one for the snipers. Mano de Dios whispered, Skald, crossing himself blow the surface, Reins and Lane engaged another creature. It grabbed

Reins by the shoulders and began viciously biting onto its helmet. Water bubbles began appearing as the LExEN face shield began to crack. The Lane jammed his bangstick beneath the creature's left arm and cracked off five rounds. The resulting explosion shattered the creature's chest cavity and sent Lane spinning off into the water. The beast released rains and started to float away. The rain, shot a canister into the beast's exposed torso, and it quickly rose to the surface. Brewer and

Renolds circled another creature as it moved toward lane. The Renolds moved into Jabbett with his bainstick, and the creature whirled in the water, snatching the weapon away from him. It drove the tip of the weapon into Brewers dragger and detonated it. The resulting explosion drove him backward, but Renolds could see it hadn't punched through the shark suit. Brewer pulled his emergency cord and flated his

vests, rocketing him to the surface. As the creature watched a Brewer rising, Renolds switched to his rifle and dumped a full burst into the creature's back at almost point blank range. The creature spasled as the bolts dug deep into its flesh and the silver aconite blend took hold. It began to go slack, and Reins hit it with a canister shot, sending it up in a flurry of air bubbles. A few yards away, another creature swam directly at

Atkinson. His training in the Royal Navy's SBS kicked in and he drove his hand into the beasts, now forcing it to his right, and as the

beast started to move around him he reached out to grab him. Atkinson rolled onto the creature's back before it could grab him, using the beast's dorsal fin to help hold himself in place, and as the beast tried to whirl around, Atkinson pulled out his canister pistol and shoved it into the creature's mouth, and as it tried to bite down on his arm, he fired twice and the air bags began to inflate as they tore the beast apart. Atkinson held

on and rode the beast to the surface. I think that's all of them, said Rains. Everyone get to the surface, said Bruce. Nicely done. As they all began to emerge, Bruce began to do a quick head count with Palermo and Bedford on the shore. Everyone was accounted for. Just as he was about to motion for everyone to head for shore, the big One emerged right in front of him, grabbed him by the helmet, and lifted him out of the water. Using him as a shield. The creature

kept Bruce between itself and the snipers. It looked into Bruce's eyes, and he knew that it was about to kill him. It only seemed to be considering how Bruce could hear. The helmet began to groan and the LExEN was cracking as the beast began to tighten its grip, fuck snapped, Clark,

dropping his gear and racing along the shore. In seconds, he reached the rocky outcropping that was nearly thirty feet above the surface of the water, and he drew his bounty and he held it in both hands and he leaped from the cliff, holding the blade edge down. He dropped the distance and slammed into the creature's back. The blade embedded itself to the hilt, and Clark used his weight and the sharpness of the blade to begin cutting his way down

its torso. Hitting the ice cold water, Clark felt the sensation of a thousand needles sinking into his flesh all at once. He ignored the pain and concentrated on the task of killing this creature. He had to save his friend. As the beast released Bruce with one hand, it tried in vain to reach Clark, who was now cutting past the dorsal fin and moving toward the tail. Before the creature could reach Clark, Bruce drew his knife and plunged

it into the creature's throat. Snappy gets attention back to Bruce. The beast gurgled and threw him into the rocks at the edge of the water, and spinning around, he grabbed Clark and pulled him free. The beasts back was cut open, but it was already beginning to heal. W you just do, rumbled the beast. I had tortonshen replied Clark, driving the bounty into

the monster's neck. The beast howled in pain, and Valkyrie put around through the back of its head, exploding the cranium in a fountain of bluish blood and brain matter. That's two, she said. The skulls shook his head as Heimdall chuckled. I told you not to bet with her, said heimdel The creature slid over backward, and Clark released his grip on the bounty. It was still embedded in the monster's neck. His fingers were too numb to hold onto it now anyway. He tried to swim ashore, but his arms

and legs were cramping. He felt like he was just going to slip beneath the water and down into the depths when strong hands grabbed him from behind. I've got you, brother, said Bruce. We got all of them. Us go home. Hauling Clark to the shore, Bruce walked out and did a physical count of the bodies. All twelve were lying dead on the beach. They were taking no chances with these creatures. Binding their arms and legs, they put a bullet through their heads just to be sure. Once they

were bound, they were rolled onto cargo nets for transport. The fuck, said Clark, his teeth chattering. That water's cold. Thank you for saving my ass out there, said Bruce, removing his cracked helmet, where even muttered Clark, you pulled my ass. Sure you didn't have to come after me, said Bruce. I would have figured something out. Yes I did, said Clark. I wasn't going to be the one to tell your wife.

Epilogue twenty one, thirty hours nineteen May Steve's Pub and Grub. Clark was sitting at the bar, sipping a large mug of hot coco, his wife sitting beside him with her arm looped through his. The dog, Sam and Dean were lying beside them on the floor. I didn't think you were the hot cocoa type, said Gideon, sliding onto a bar stool next to Clark. Normally I'm not, said Clark. I've had a chill since I was in that fucking lake. I know I'm not cold, but that was

bone deep cold. What you need is a week on the beach, said Amanda Sanchez Clark grinning, no, thank you, said Clark. I'm not going anywhere near Sharks for a while. Everyone laughed. So what did you guys bring to hang on the wall this time, asked Steve. Usually that's Margolin's thing, said Clark. But this time I brought you something. He handed Steve a square bundle wrapped in cloth. Steve took it and examined it. Open it, said Clark. Steve unwrapped the painting that Henderman had given

Clark and Valkyrie as a wedding gift. This isn't bad, said Steve. Who is Augustus Henderman? Ah, no one special, said Clark with a shrug. I picked it up in a little place on our last deployment. It's an interesting landscape, said Steve. I'd like to see this place in real life. Where is it? It's late Novelapi and Argentina, said Clark, sipping his cocoa. I'll get a hammer and nail and hang it, said Steve, walking away. Are you going to tell him he's hanging a

painting by Adolph Hitler, asked Gideon Hitler asked Amanda shocked. I'll tell you later, babe, said Clark. And no, I'm not going to tell him. Probably for the best, said Gideon. Rachel emerged from the kitchen and sat a large portion of shepherd's pie in front of Clark, and a plate of breaded fish filets with steamed vegetables in front of Amanda. Thanks, said Clark. Can I get what he's having too, ask Gideon. I'll bring it right out, said Rachel, smiling. This is the best Shepherd's

pie I've ever had, said Clark. I get it every time I'm in here. Rachel beamed with pride and headed back into the kitchen. So what's next, boss, asked Gideon. We trained for the next mission, said Clark. We prove the success of the international team model. We're going to be getting more people from other countries. Now, what about Stratton, asked Gideon. Have they found her yet? No, said Clark. They lost track of her in an airport in Bolivia. She managed to slip the tail

that was on her. We know she's in South America, but that's it. They'll find her, said Gideon. The Israelis are looking for her now, then she better hope we find her first, said Clark. That's a fact, said Gideon. Even I would be worried about being captured by them. Damn, said Clark. General Dalton is practically chewing steel and spitting nails over this. He's restructuring the entire upper tiers, shaking out all the career officers who only want the slot, not to actually be part of the team.

I think the drop into Patagonia showed him just how woefully unprepared some officers were for an actual mission. I think you mean Boudreaux in the new Battalion exec Lieutenant Colonel McDermott said Gideon. Well, I can't confirm her. Deny that statement, said Clark. Taking a sip from mus Coco. Any news on the German diver, asked Gideon Bower. I think was his name. He stabilized, said Clark. He's doing well and he was granted permission by

the Germans to join our team. I don't know where he's getting a signed yet, but I hope we get him. Clark scanned the room. He could see that all the new team members were there. They were sharing food and drinks and laughter. They'd earned their places on the team. Steve's Pub and Grove was now the official after mission stop for all the Midwest teams, which meant the place was almost always packed. Steve was thrilled at the business,

but only Tim Odin could hang stuff on the walls. Rachel set a play to Shepherd's Pine in front of Gideon, and he nodded his gratitude. Gideon began eating immediately, and Clark watched the older man's eyes roll back in his head with pleasure. Oh Lord, said Gideon. You weren't kidding. This is amazing. I told you, said Clark. Best I've ever had. Cody, Eak, and Rayon were sitting at a table with Gregel and his wife Sarah. They were laughing and eating with Runestone and Raven. Clark

smiled at the scene. They were his team and his family. They'd gone through hell together and emerged stronger out the other side. Congratulations, by the way, said Gideon, for what asked Clark. The distinguished flying Cross, said Gideon with a shrug. Another bit of ribbon, said Clark. That's not why I do this, then why do you do it? Asked Amanda. For them, he said, gesturing at the festivities going on around them. That my friend, said Gideon, placing his hand on Clark's shoulder,

is the right answer. That's why we'll follow you into Helen back. Thank you, said Clark, meeting the older warrior's gaze. It's my pleasure, sir, said Gideon. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a day with whom asked Clark, grinning. Believe it or not, said Gideon. That rather attractive emissary from the Vatican wanted to take me to dinner. Magdalena and I are driving to Saint Louis for a few days. Well, good luck, said Clark. If she's anything like her brother, she's going

to be a handful. I'm counting on that, said Gideon with a smirk. Gideon walked away and headed for the door. He stopped at the table where the Giovanni triplets were seated and held out his arm. Magdalena took it and they left. Mattia still glared daggers at him, but said nothing. Now, said Clark, turning to face Amanda, you and I need to have a little talk about you and Valkyrie. I kind of thought you'd say that, she said, don't be too mad. I just wanted to know

if she could tempt you away from me. Now I know she can't. Clark shook his head. He had been tempted, but he wasn't going to say that to her. That was something best kept to himself. He wasn't sure how either of them would take it. So what do you want to do while you're on leath, ask Amanda. I was thinking that if you didn't mind, said Clark, would drive up to Saint Louis and visit my sister. Well, that's fine with me, said Amanda. We haven't seen

her since the wedding. The front door opened with a thud, and they could see a large truck backing up to the entrance. What the hell, asked Steve, delivery for Major Clark, said a man in dark coveralls. General Dalton sends his best. They opened the double doors and wheeled in a beautiful antique piano. What is that, asked Amanda. That's a boasting door for Grand piano, said, Clark, remind me to thank the general. Steve directed the delivery crew to a corner where the acoustics would be good.

No one really sat there because the lighting was terrible. He dragged two tables out of their way so that they would have room to set up the piano. Will you play for us, ask Amanda. She didn't expect him to say yes. He was reluctant to play, even at home. Yeah, he said, smiling, I think I will. Heading over to where they had placed the piano, Clark took a seat behind the keyboard and adjusted the bench. Everyone in the crowd went silent as he sat down. Valkyrie put

her hand to her mouth and her eyes went moist. Clark closed his eyes and started playing. And while most of the crowd thought the song sounded familiar, they just couldn't quite place it. Valkyrie recognized it as Zombie by the Cranberries. This has been cod named Wild Hut Operation Blood Eagle. Written by Da Roberts, read to you by Cameron Buckner. Print copy Da Roberts, Audio production copyright by Cameron Buckner. Reproduction of this audio is prohibited in any

form without written approval under the US copyright laws. Stay tuned to the Dixie Crypti podcast for more full length audio books.