Page 15 of Love Me Knot

I restart my frozen legs and walk stiffly toward an empty spot in the back, keeping my eyes ahead. Oh look. A screen with maps on it. And hey, another. Just look at all those cool desks with built-in adjustable touch screens.

Once seated, I look around at my team and give myself the peppiest pep talk. This is your team in your house, and you can work with anybody. You are Chelsea: badass Marine, ass-kicking PMC, and all-around mother…no, father fuc…no, that’s even worse. You’re the shit, and no one can say otherwise.

I’ve just about got myself talked from the ledge when Knot takes the floor. “This mission is designated the highest possible classification. You are not to discuss details with anyone outside this room. Not to other operatives, SEALs, Admiral Jameson, or even the damned president. Have we got that clear?”

The room agrees, and Commander O’Reilly takes over. “Knot and I watched the tapes and listened to the audio recordings last night. Iron Strike was set up. It’s possible they were to die along with their Army clients. Dead contractors can’t defend themselves. Whether they were or weren’t marked for death, we may never know. The details are buried so deep, they’ll never see the light of day.”

“Roman Cargill told me this morning that no one has even asked to speak to his team leader.” When the room responds in disbelief, Knot adds, “Our sentiments exactly. This kind of coverup shouldn’t be possible.”

“Unless this mission was never on the books,” Jackson pipes up.

His boss nods. “That is something we’ve considered. Another possibility is that someone is planning to manufacture evidence to color the outcome of a sham investigation. In either case, we’re up against a juggernaut whose goal seems to be eradicating private military firms.”

“A juggernaut who can conjure a slaughter mission and cover it up. And you’re asking us to do what?” one of the younger SEALs asks.

Jackson rolls his eyes, but the commander ignores the man. “Since our guy hates PMCs so much, we’ll offer them a target they can’t resist. Knot Corporation.”

O’Reilly nods to our boss to take over in the tag-team briefing. “We’re setting up a fake mission, leaking the details, and planning an ambush of our own in the field. Our net won’t catch those responsible, but catching anyone will be proof enough for the Pentagon to launch an investigation, vindicate Iron Strike, and put a muzzle on the asshole, Congressman Harding.”

The plan is sound except for one small detail. “If Harding or whoever doesn’t set up the mission, what makes you think they’ll bite? I’m guessing our juggernaut likes to control the board if he’s going to play.”

O’Reilly takes this question. “Knot Corp. is the biggest and best in the business. If you guys can be taken down, there won’t be any stopping the domino effect. Our guy won’t pass on this opportunity.”

No one else offers any objection, and Knot looks around the room before delivering what I expect to be our fake mission parameters. Instead, he says, “You know your theatres as well as we do. Let’s get to planning.”

No one expects the two powerhouses to share operational control, but the two sit with the rest of us to brainstorm. Bash is the first to speak up. “If our sleeper is in the Pentagon, we should stick to Team Two’s normal territory.”

Having been in SEAL Team Two, Knot is familiar and punches up a map of Europe. “We don’t want to involve Russia, Ukraine, or Crimea,” O’Reilly advises.

Yeah. No kidding. “Picking a country that shares a border with Turkey would be more believable,” I suggest.

Knot tips his head to me and zooms in to Bulgaria and Greece. Bash shakes his head beside me. “That’s nothing but empty farmland.”

“Not quite,” Knot responds. “Just off Bulgaria’s southernmost tip in Turkey is a large rail yard.”

O’Reilly perks up. “We could say the CIA reports that Turkish separatists are trying to smuggle bombs across the Bulgarian border for easy access to targets in Europe. That’s exactly the kind of situation my men would deploy for.”

Sadie, who’s worked with this platoon of SEALs before, shakes her head. “Yeah, but I don’t see that being a scenario where the Navy would want or could explain sixteen tagalongs.”

The room goes quiet, each operative deep in thought. “So there won’t be,” Knot announces. “Not exactly. Officially, sixteen of you will go. One SEAL squad and one PMC team.”

“And unofficially?” Aaron asks.

Knot regards the senior operative before turning briefly toward Commander O’Reilly. “Officially is all we have right now_that and motivation. We need to find out who is killing off troops and framing PMCs. The only way I know to do that is to set a trap. The problem is they only target warm bodies.”

“So, we give them warm bodies,” I say with a shrug.

“How do we do that without getting my men blown up?” Jackson asks me directly.

“You could always volunteer.”

SEALs and PMCs alike snicker, and Jackson cracks a smile. I ignore them all and continue my train of thought. “Or we could use human analogs.”

The same young SEAL sneers, dismissing my suggestion completely. “I don’t think scarecrows are going to help.”

I glare at the man and his ignorance. “Haven’t you ever heard of deception warfare?”

The guy doesn’t answer, but Knot does. “Yeah. I’ve seen inflatable rolling tanks and planes.”

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