Page 68 of Welker

Welk hustled down the stairs, turned off his alarms, grabbed the keys and jogged outside. The night was clear and calm.

He wondered what was up. The alert hadn’t given any details other than that they were meeting at a state park, fifteen minutes to Welker’s north.

He unlocked Moira’s truck and found her gear in a compartment behind the back seat. Grabbing it up, he relocked, then ran back to the house where Moira stood in serviceable, yet still sexy as hell, underwear. She carried both their Glock 9mm’s, handing his to him as soon as he gave her the bag.

She didn’t hesitate to don her uniform and protective vest right the hell in front of him, and it was…hot. Under any other circumstances, he would have bent her over the stair-railing. Watching her bad-assing herself up was smoking, but now was not the time. They had to get on the road.

“Ready?” Moira asked him, checking her ammunition.

Depending on the circumstances of the call-out, when they arrived they might be outfitted with AR-15’s which were kept under lock and key in the command bus.

“Yup. Let’s roll,” Welker agreed.

Fourteen minutes later, with minimal talk on the trip there, each being in their own heads, Welker pulled in behind several teammates’ vehicles. They spotted Mason immediately where he stood next to a crying woman and a small tent, surrounded by other squads, decked out in their BDU’s and vests.

“Let’s go see what’s up,” Welker stated, turning off his truck and unfastening his seatbelt to get out. Moira was one step ahead of him, and met him at the front of his vehicle.

They approached the group, together.

“Glad you could make it so fast,” Mason nodded to them both.

“What’s the situation?” Welker asked, seeing about sixty percent of the team already assembled. The vehicles pulling in behind them would have their numbers complete within the next few minutes.

They didn’t have to wait long.

“Okay everyone,” Mason eventually called out, as soon as everyone was on site. “This is no drill.” He pointed to the distraught woman who was slouched over at a nearby picnic table, her head in her hands, being comforted by Opal. “Sarah Biner’s son was taken half an hour ago, at gunpoint, from their tent. She says our target is a homeless man, scraggly gray beard, ratty clothes. He’d been lingering nearby their campsite for most of the evening, poking around in various trash-cans. Sarah was wary, but didn’t think he was a threat. Two hours after they turned in, the man unzipped their tent, held a gun on her, and demanded the boy.”

The woman who’d been crying quietly, wailed at Mason’s words and looked up, her face twisted in pain, imploring them. “Please. You have to find him. Jimmy is only seven years old. That man…he’ll hurt him.”

Welker’s jaw tightened. Was the perpetrator planning to hold the boy for ransom, or was he a sexual predator? Either way, the guy was going down. They needed to get moving.

“I’ve sent maps to all your phones,” Mason continued, “along with each unit’s search coordinates. Everlee, with Nolan and Opal, will stay back at the bus and coordinate, as well as keep an eye on Ms. Biner.” His expression soured. “Harvé and Muddy are currently in Canada for retraining, so we don’t have them as trackers, but I have every faith that all of you will get the job done. I don’t have to tell you; this is a sensitive rescue mission. Use your weapons only if

absolutely necessary. We want to resolve this situation without anyone getting hurt tonight.”

Welker’s H-squad of five—six including himself—gathered around him for instruction. He quickly perused the pie-shaped area Mason had designated as his unit’s. It was large, which sucked. Normally, he liked his people paired up to do a search like this, but considering the extent of the ground that needed covering, everyone would be on their own.

Without additional hesitation, Welk gave out assignments, to which they all nodded.

“I want your comms activated at all times,” he ordered. “And if you see anything suspicious, do not approach by yourself. Give coordinates and wait for back up. Am I understood?”

His squad gave chin lifts, and Welker knew without a doubt they’d follow instructions to the T. They’d been training and working together like a well-oiled machine for the better part of a year and a half, and not one of them would think to deviate.

Welker gave one last look to Moira, who he knew was champing at the bit to get moving, like him. Their eyes met, and they gave each other a nod. It was a silent affirmation that they’d find this asshole and make sure to bring the boy back, safely.

The going wasn’t easy. Welker had given a few of his unit actual hiking paths to follow; Moira being one of them, but he was actually bushwhacking. He cursed while following a trail of broken branches and rucked-up leaves…at least those disturbances he could see in the dark with his NVG’s. The heat of the day had long since dissipated from the treed area, so Welk had to go more on the light from his IR. Bending down to check some of the scrub, he found the breakage, fresh.

Each unit had two channels. One for their own squad plus Mason who monitored all communication, and another for the entire team. Welker spoke to his own people only, first. “H Squad. Anything?”

If they hadn’t found evidence of any foot traffic, Welk was going to call all his squad-members to him to follow the disturbances he’d found.

“I have a possible path,” Sin came back. “Broken branches. Footprints. Although with the leafy ground-cover, I can’t be sure how many and what size.”

“I’ve got something, too,” Vic, another one of his unit came back. “Same MO. Fresh broken branches and footprints.”

Something wasn’t adding up.

“I have the same,” he huffed to his teammates. “Everybody switch channels,” He gave them a second to adjust. “Chief?” Welk asked, once he’d accessed the rest of the larger team.

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