Page 1 of Lucky Charm
Chapter One
November 5, 2019
Day 1
Lieutenant Travis Hunter scanned the intelligence briefing projected on the screen and glanced around what masqueraded as a conference area. The sturdy wooden table was the main workspace in a bare-bones operations center decorated with maps and computers. The familiar smells of burned coffee, overheated electronics, and sweaty operatives contributed to the ambience, but truth was the small building did little to keep out the cold air of an oncoming Afghanistan winter. To a man, the other six members of his SEAL team lounged back in their chairs and maintained an unusual silence.
“Ali Al-Haquiri has requested militarymedicalassistance from the base hospital, and the hospital commander has agreed. Your team will be tasked with the protection of their doctor.” Lieutenant Commander Harrison Scott’s crewcut and gray temples accentuated the severity of his arctic blue eyes, his tone gravelly and harsh.
Hunt dropped back into his seat, tempering an automatic negative response in favor of questions. “Why us?”
“I get it’s not your team’s primary mission.” Scott’s testy response telegraphed his frustration.
Hunt shoved his hands in his pockets, specifically opting for non-combative. “Why stop there? It’s not our mission at all.”
Scott frowned, his tall frame and lean face taking on the mean edge that had been part of his operative persona. “Well, hell. I know it’s not making a HALO jump at twenty thousand feet or coming up through the water in the dead of night for your entertainment, Lieutenant. Nonetheless, you’re tasked. This mission has a lot of fingers in the pie and several complex moving parts. Tag you’re it. Clear?”
Hunt chewed on that scolding and then dismissed it. He’d known Scott a long time and could read his mood. “This particular ‘local official’ is a warlord of dubious ethical persuasion who trades in drugs, guns, and the sex slavery market. He frequently switches sides, and you don’t sit and have tea with the man or provide a doctor for an indeterminate patient. What aren’t you saying?”
“Thanks for that brief, Lieutenant. I had no idea.” Scott’s sarcasm could cut. “Command orders. Medical diplomacy. It’s a top priority of General Peterson.” The answer wouldn’t satisfy anyone in the room. Skeptics, every one of them.
Zeke Pratt, their CIA liaison, approached the head of the table. His navy pants, white shirt, striped tie, and short haircut made him look military, but he was civilian from his dark glasses to his athletic shoes. “Haquiri’s son was injured in a fall, needs surgery or at least higher medical assistance than is available, and moving himapparently wasn’t an option. Intelligence assets hopped on it when the request came into the hospital. It’s an opportunity to get eyes into the man’s compound.”
Chief Warrant Officer Two Warren Dugan, Hunt’s second in command, hadn’t moved his tree trunk legs from where they were propped on the table since sitting. “Feels like a setup. He could’ve popped the kid in a pickup and driven him into Kabul to the UN hospital faster. Or Jalalabad.” His deep baritone reverberated through the room.
Team medic, John “Carter” Evans, leaned forward in his seat, his earnest nature showing. “Any info on the extent of his injuries?”
“No. The severity may have been discussed with the medical side of the house, but we have no info on that yet.” Pratt slid his pen into the pocket of his shirt.
Hunt rubbed the back of his neck. “Our team isn’t here for standard protection detail, though. We’re here to shut down a weapons pipeline being used to target U.S. Special Operations personnel and to track, retrieve, or kill Ibrahim Qurban Sadozai.”
In the last three years, Sadozai’s frequent terrorist attacks across Asia into the Middle East had pushed the man to the top of the Department of Defense most wanted. His favorite target – U.S. military. From the Pentagon to Congress, they’d pushed every button to get the man neutralized. Why take them off task now?
“IQS sighting?” Hunt kept his voice neutral.
The Commander straightened the pens on the tabletop, a particular quirk of his. He did the same thing with bullets and scuba gear when he’d been Hunt’s team leader first thing out of BUD/S. It was a dead giveaway. That realization and the man’s grim expression wasn’t helpful to the direction of Hunt’s mood. Scott shifted to stare at three strangers in the room. Two returned the stare. The third stayed in a casual pose like coffee was the only thing on his agenda.
Hunt stifled his sigh. CIA in the house and Army. He rubbed his gut, his intuition telling him a curve ball was about to fly in his direction.
Pratt continued. “The hospital has assigned one surgeon. Get that doctor in and out. That’s all you’re required to do.” He hit a button on his computer, and the map popped onto the briefing screen.
Hunt scanned the parameters of the area. “The Afghan government isn’t in complete control of that area.”
Scott nodded. “Yep, part of the problem.”
Hunt straightened his posture. “Why not a full surgical team? Or at least a surgical nurse to assist? Or a med-evac for that matter?”
Scott waved off his concern. “Wasn’t my decision. Operation was planned higher up. Medevac decision was left to the Hospital Commander. I believe when air evacuation was taken off the table because insurgents have taken a liking to firing at our choppers in that area, thecommander decided the less personnel you had to protect the better. Evans will back her up.”
Carter shoved a hand through his blonde hair. “I don’t have any surgical nurse experience. I’m a combat medic.”
Scott raised his brow. “Close enough.”
Carter slapped a hand on the table, opening his mouth to argue what would be a lengthy lecture on the nuts-and-bolts difference between combat medicine and surgical experience, but Hunt waved a hand to stave him off. Carter sank back into his chair, a sour look on his face.
In an ordinary office, the ticking he heard would be a clock. Here, it was the collective brains of his team about to go off like a time bomb. Hunt clamped down on the blast of frustration.
Doogie leaned over and whispered. “Wait for it.”
