The Gray Man Ch. 18 - St. Jean

Dear Reader,

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination.

Constructive criticism, and feedback is truly appreciated. I would like this to be an interactive journey as much as this medium allows. Please feel free to send suggestions, ideas for future characters etc. I welcome the input.

Also, if you'd like a character to inquire about Gray's services send me a description and we can work from there. The previous 3 stories have all been requested by readers. If you'd like to meet Gray - please let me know.

I also need to be honest. Nobody on this site is getting paid - authors, editors etc. If you are the type of reader that reads to look for mistakes to send snarky notes - allow me to invite you to skip my stories.

Keep Soaring,

Pelican

(¬‿¬)

Gray stood on the tarmac at Andrews Air Force Base, his gaze fixed on the colossal C-17 Globemaster III aircraft. The rumble of the engines reverberated through the air as the massive plane prepared for departure. A sense of purpose surged through his veins, knowing that he was about to embark on a critical mission. He ran through the mental checklist one more time before boarding.

The ramp opened and Gray walked from the Washington sunshine into the belly of the plane. This mission was personal.Inside, the cargo bay was vast, accommodating not only personnel but also an assortment of military vehicles and supplies. The interior hummed with activity as crew members meticulously organized equipment and double-checked security protocols.

Taking a seat alongside others making the trip, Gray fastened his seatbelt and settled in for the long flight to Al Udeid Air Base, in Qatar. As the aircraft taxied down the runway, he couldn't help but reflect on the gravity of the mission that awaited him. His anxiety melted away as he felt the wheels leave the ground as the Globemaster lifted into the night sky.

After several hours of airborne travel, the C-17 touched down at Al Udeid. Gray disembarked, greeted by the scorching heat of the desert climate. He was swiftly escorted to a waiting convoy of vehicles, where he was met by a young Air Force 2nd Lieutenant, fresh out of The Academy.

The young 'Butter Bar' said, "Sergeant Major, if you'll come with me the C-2 is doing pre-start now. Is there anything you need?".

Gray smiled, "A real bathroom would be a good start, Ma'am."

The Lieutenant smiled, "Not a problem, we can swing by the operations terminal before we get you loaded. The Colonel said that orders from above say you are priority 1 for today's mission. If I may ask..."

TJ smiled, "Ma'am, please don't put us in an awkward position. Truly, need to know at the moment."

The humvee stopped at the ops center and the driver left the engine running. Gray stepped inside, did what needed to be done, grabbed a few bottles of water and headed back outside into the raging heat. The humvee set off on a journey across the arid landscape towards the USS Ronald Reagan.

When they arrived at the C-2 Greyhound TJ stepped out of the Humvee, thanked the driver and the Lieutenant for the ride.

The attractive young lieutenant nodded, "Sergeant Major," she called. Gray was expecting a 'ring knocker' scolding for not saluting - which he would never do in a location under arms. Instead she smiled, "Happy hunting."

TJ nodded, "Thank you, Ma'am."

The flight was smooth and uneventful, allowing Gray a moment to reflect on the upcoming mission. He tried to run through the mission parameters in his head, but at a certain point he was transported back to the Aziz compound, to the mud hut and the beatings and torture. He was pissed at himself for not being able to focus. Over and over again he traced the mission steps until he arrived at the compound and everything went black except for the sadistic smile of Aziz.

He tried to close his eyes to sleep, but for the first time in months he was Hours passed, and the aircraft began its descent towards the USS Ronald Reagan. Gray peered out the window, witnessing the majesty of the aircraft carrier up close. The ship appeared formidable, with an array of aircraft lined up on the deck and sailors bustling with purpose.

The C-2 Greyhound smoothly landed on the carrier's deck, gently touching down amidst the controlled chaos of aircraft operations. When the wire caught, Gray lurched forward. He would never get used to Carrier launches or recoveries. The tension of landing gave way asGray felt a surge of adrenaline as he disembarked onto the deck, greeted by the sight of naval personnel diligently performing their duties.

Gray made his way through the bustling deck, observing fighter jets being launched and recovered. The deck crew worked with precision and expertise, ensuring the seamless operation of the carrier's air wing. The environment hummed with energy, each member playing a crucial role in maintaining the carrier's combat readiness.

At the bulkhead leading to the Island Gray was met by one of the SEALS - a Petty Officer. Navigating the labyrinthine corridors of the USS Ronald Reagan, Gray was eventually shown his assigned quarters.

The SEAL looked at him, "Briefing in 90 minutes, Skipper just notified us we have weather moving in."

As Gray settled in, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of camaraderie among the sailors and fellow servicemen around him. The shared purpose and dedication to duty permeated every interaction.

At the briefing Gray and the SEALS went over their preparations, radio codes, and timing. As they were winding up the preparation the XO walked into the ready room. "Gentlemen, we have bad weather coming our way. Zero guarantee we launch tomorrow."

Gray looked up, "Then we move the launch up 24 hours, we launch tonight." He looked at the leader of the SEAL team, "Good with you, Skip?"

The XO shook his head, "I'll notify flight ops, you sons of bitches are crazy."

As the moon rose over the horizon Gray and the QRF on the flight deck as the Seahawk began to spin up its turbines The moon hung low on the horizon, big and orange as helicopters were prepared for departure. The rotor blades spun, creating a rhythmic beat in the air as the crewmen conducted final checks. Gray wasn't thrilled about a full moon insertion, but at the moment there was zero choice.

With focused determination, Gray boarded the helicopter, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and resolve. As the aircraft lifted off from the deck, he peered out at the vast expanse of the Persian Gulf below, the water stretching endlessly to the horizon.

The flight to the designated mission area was a tense affair. The helicopter skimmed over the azure waters just above the waves, before tree top flying into the mountains. Gray should have been terrified, but that had long since passed, it was time and there was no room for the fear now.

When they reached the designated Landing Zone, the Crew Chief tossed the rope out of the side of the Naval Version of the Blackhawk and Ghost quickly fast-roped into the mountains that he had learned to know as well as the natives.

90 seconds later, Gray gave two tugs on the rope and the chief reeled it in as the Seahawk sped back to the Reagan. Gray keyed his mic, "Rawhide four six - Rawhide Actual feet dry." Rawhide had been Ronald Reagan's callsign from the Secret Service and was chosen by the team for this mission.

Gray's earpiece crackled lightly, "Rawhide - Clear."

Gray moved into the darkness, navigating as much by memory as GPS or night vision. He made quick time into the mountains.

The next morning Underwood's phone rang at zero three hundred hours. He picked up on the second ring, "Shooter, what the hell is going on?"

The voice on the other end of the phone was First Sergeant Angela Taggert. She was furious. "Slow down Den Mother - what's wrong."

Ignoring his suggestion, "Where the fuck is Ghost?"

Underwood wouldn't reveal the location on an unsecure line. "He's working," which long ago was the phrase their team used to inform others that folks were downrange and engaged.

"I fucking know he's working. He was just identified as gone rogue. Our signal guys are going nuts as every radio in the mountains lit up an hour ago. Every two bit bounty hunter and Taliban warlord is mobilizing."

"What the actually fuck. I'll call the boss and update you as best I can." He hung up without a response

Underwood immediately called Barnett who called an emergency meeting at their office. Inside the secure space within the office they started digging through messages sent out by the State Department. It didn't take long to find the message declaring that an agent had gone rogue.

Admiral Barnett used satellite communications to contact The Reagan - being an Admiral it did not take much persuasion to be connected to the Carrier's Commanding Officer.

Barnett didn't wait for pleasantries, "Ian, it's Steve. I need you to scrub the operation."

Ian Campbell, the CO of the Reagan replied, "No can do, Sir."

Barnett was furious, "What the hell do you mean you can't. I am giving you an order, Captain."

Ian Campbell had served under Admiral Barnett, the two knew each other well. "Sir, I can't because the QRF team launched early to beat bad weather that's about to sock us in."

Barnett's voice went quiet. "I am sending Lt. Colonel Underwood to you. He will oversee operations to get my agent out of the mountains. He speaks for me, am I clear?"

Ian Campbell knew when Admiral Barnett was in this mindset there was nothing to be gained by discussion. "Aye, Aye -Sir."

Barnett hung up and looked at Underwood. "Shooter, fix this fucking mess while I find out what the hell is going on up the fucking food chain."

Gray worked his way closer to the Nazir compound as the storms raged overhead. The storms had completely shut down communication so Ghost had zero idea what was happening in the States.

Gray worked his way closer during the night, and rested during the day. It took three days to work his way into range of the compound, the only problem was that the deeper he went into the mountains the less likely he was to be able to communicate. Finally, Gray found his way to within 2 miles of the compound. He had noticed heavy patrols, many in Technicals - usually modified Toyota Hilux with some armor and a PKM mounted machine gun.

Ghost found this a little unusual, especially since the withdrawal from Afghanistan. He noted the checkpoints and locations as he pushed closer to the compound. He found a rock outcropping about a mile away from the gate and took up his position.

As the sun came up, Ghost lay flat on the ground, in the shadows of the rock. He used a similar location, about 200 meters north when he last observed the compound. Nazir had built the area up since taking over for his brother. There were a couple of towers now, and an armed guard at the gate.

As Gray peered through the scope, he scanned the courtyard. There was an unusual number of vehicles parked outside, some armored, some civilian, some taken from the faltering Afghan government. He saw men in suits and turbans, carrying briefcases and guns. He saw numerous guards, most in black dadushka's with different colored keffiyeh, checking IDs and patting down visitors. Something big was going on.

Gray remained tucked into his hiding place until the sun went down. His plan was to move to the other side of the compound under the cover of darkness. Just as he was packing up his gear the silence of the night was pierced by a cascade of spotlights criss crossing the landscape. Gray pulled back into the shadows and waited.

He heard the engines of the trucks draw closer before fading away. He knew that the net was quickly closing and he had to make some decisions quickly. Meanwhile, on The Reagan Lt. Colonel Underwood and the QRF started making extrication plans. Admiral Barnett had moved heaven and hell to finally get a Triton Drone to orbit high over the compound, it's infrared cameras allowing those on the ship to monitor the situation, little known to them thousands of miles away someone else was monitoring as well.

Gray was frustrated, his prey had anticipated every step he was making. He was truly beginning to believe that he had been compromised. Someone was feeding information to the very people he had sworn to Ghostg down. The consequences were dire. Friends had turned into enemies overnight, and now Ghost found himself alone, with the weight of survival resting solely on his shoulders.

Grey decided that there was no possibility of capture by Nazim. He was not going to go through torture again, much less have his dead body paraded on international television. Nazim had grown into a much more terrifying leader than his brother. His reign of terror was unmatched, and Ghost knew that if he fell into the hands of this merciless man, death would be a welcome escape.

Ghost relied on all of his experience, all of his training. He slowly crept higher up onto the mountain, trying to get out of reach of Nazim and his guards. The mission had gone from information gathering to survival, there was no choice, he had to evade capture and figure out who had betrayed him. He was thankful for the hours of hell his training had provided as right now muscle memory was all he had left.

With each passing hour, the mountainous landscape grew more unforgiving. Jagged rocks and treacherous crevices seemed determined to hinder his progress, but Cardinal pushed forward, determined to outrun his pursuers. Every once in a while, he glanced back, scanning the horizon for any sign of danger. Overhead, the drone circled, with Underwood on the radio with Washington requesting permission to engage. A request that was denied time and time again.

Suddenly, the tell-tale trail of tracers from a machine gun spread out on the monitor like a tongue of fire, reaching out for Ghost. He slid down the side of the mountain, scrapes, bruises, and cuts from the rocks tore at his uniform. Finally, the fall stopped and Gray dropped to the ground, instinctively seeking cover. His heart pounded in his chest as he strained to listen for any signs of movement. Silence descended, broken only by the roar of a Himalayan Brown Bear in the distance.

As the seconds ticked by, Gray positioned his body to look like the fall had been the end of him. His weapon had been torn from his hands on the descent. He willed himself to be still. He heard shouts from the rocky face a hundred meters above him.

His Pashti was rusty, but from what he could make out they were deciding who should go retrieve his remains. Nobody wanted to make the descent on a rope and try to haul him back up the cliff face. Something for which Ghost was thankful. Eventually, a spotlight flooded over his body as the guards had decided to take a picture to earn their bounty, and send some of the others for him when the sun was up.

Underwood and the QRF sat stunned. Watching the end of one of their brothers was almost too much. The drone operator turned the large drone to head back to the Reagan as Underwood put his hands in his head. The SEAL Chief Petty Officer walked over to where the drone operator was sitting and growled in his ear. The drone returned to circling over the mountain range.

Seconds turned to minutes, but finally, thinking his pursuers had given up Ghost gritted his teeth, he knew he had to keep moving. He couldn't afford to let panic consume him, not now. Every step had to be calculated, every decision a matter of life or death. With renewed determination, he pushed himself up and resumed his harrowing escape.

Back on the ship, the communication center lit up with requests to exfiltrate Ghost. Again, requests that were denied. Finally, the drone had to return to the ship, leaving Sharpshooter and the SEAL team pacing the flight deck.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days, as Ghost traversed the unforgiving mountains. Hunger gnawed at his insides, but he pressed on, fueled by adrenaline and the will to survive. With each passing mile, his body weakened, but his resolve grew stronger. He had come too far to give up now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached a clearing where a helicopter could reach and his radio might work. He had tried for days without luck in the mountains, unsure if it had broken.

Inside the SEAL ready room, in the early morning hours they heard, "Rawhide Four Six - Rawhide actual - over."

The radio operator yelled to the others, "I've got him!" Returning back to the radio, "Actual - Four Six. Go."

Relieved, Gray leaned against a rock, "Four Six, I need an uber." Underwood heard the exhaustion in his best friend's voice as the Captain of the Boat entered the room.

The Skipper looked at Underwood and the QRF. "We have been denied permission to fly into Afghan airspace."

Underwood jumped up, "Sir, if you will check with Admiral Barnett."

The Captain looked at Sharpshooter, Colonel, this goes above Steven's head. I have my orders."

The Seals headed out of the door as the Captain looked at them, "Where do you think you're going?"

The SEAL team leader cocked his head, "We don't leave ours behind. If you won't let us fly in and get him, then we will take our RIB (an 11 meter Rigid Inflatable Boat used by Spec Ops forces.) and head in through the water."

The Skipper looked at the assembled crew, "He's listed as ROGUE."

Sharpshooter looked at him, "He flew in on a C-2, on a C-17 to Qatar. He showed your XO his goddam orders. He's not rogue, he's been compromised."

The radio operator looked over his shoulder, "Skipper - call coming in for you. EARS ONLY."

The Captain picked up the phone, "Campbell. Yes, Sir. Understand. Will Do, Sir. Immediately, Sir." He hung up the phone.

Campbell looked at the gathered warriors, "Ghostg him home, but officially he is considered, "missing - presumed captured."

The 5 men quickly grabbed their gear and headed to the flight deck. The flight to the landing zone seemed to take hours. The team were off of the helicopter with a litter before the bird had even touched down. They ran over to the unconscious Ghost, loaded him on the stretcher and hustled him to the bird, which immediately was airborne.

The SEAL team medic started an IV as he cut away Gray's uniform checking for wounds. The cuts and bruises were almost too numerous to count, fortunately there were no gunshot wounds - though the scars that criss crossed his back brought a pause from the SEAL Team.

The surgeon on The Reagan did a full evaluation before they loaded him onto a Grayhound for Qatar, then a C-17 for Germany. His official medical report, "Multiple contusions and cuts, concussion, severe dehydration, multiple fractures.' Gray was sedated for his flights and did not wake up until 3 days later in the hospital.

As he opened his eyes he saw Underwood and Angela. "I know this isn't heaven if you two are here. So, does that mean I am in hell?"

Angela's eyes filled with tears, "Oh, that's an upgrade for what I'm going to do to you, asshole."

TJ looked at Mark, "Did we get him?"

Underwood shook his head, "No, but we got you out."

Again, TJ looked at the two, his face badly bruised and swollen, "What happened?"

Angela looked at Underwood before Mark put his hand on Gray's shoulder, which was in a sling. "You fell off a mountain. Rest, Gray. We will talk later."

It took Ghost 6 weeks in German, and 2 weeks of physical therapy at Walter Reed before they released him to return to duty. During those 8 weeks he replayed everything in his head over and over again. There were only three possible leaks that had the intelligence and movement orders. Underwood, Admiral Barnett, or Under Secretary St. Jean.

Underwood was a non-starter as he and Gray had been through too many battles together to turn on each other now. Admiral Barnett was not even aware that Ghost had been tasked to the operation until TJ had briefed him. That left only one person in the food chain who had all of the information needed to turn, Jennifer St. Jean.