Page 2 of High Value Target

“Are they all dead?” Enrico asked.

“Depends. How many were there?” Grady asked.

“Five.”

“Then they’re all dead. When does the next resupply come?”

“Someone comes once a week. There’s another camp up the road. I’ve heard them talking. It’s been a while since they’ve come. I heard one of them saying they better come first thing in the morning because we are out of food.”

“Then we’d better hurry.”

Grady and Stan helped him to his feet, a shoulder under each arm.

“Can you walk?” Grady asked as the man’s legs went out from under his weight.

“Yes, my legs are just asleep. Give me a minute.”

“We don’t have a minute.”

They shuffled him toward the door and into the clearing.

“Wait. What about the other man?” Enrico stopped.

Grady and Stan froze.

“What other man?” Grady snapped.

“The American. The soldier. They brought him five months ago. He’s being held for espionage. I overheard the guards talking. They said he was caught with a drone.”

Grady and Stan exchanged a look.

“What’s his name?” Grady hissed.

“I don’t know. They only ever referred to him asel gringo.”

“He wasn’t in that other shack. Where is he?” Stan snapped.

“If he’s not in that hut, then they must have him in the pit.”

“The pit?” Grady’s stomach sank. “Where?”

“It is behind that hut, underneath a pallet and some oil drums.”

They set Enrico on the ground and jogged around the building. Four rusted oil drums sat, collecting rain water on top of a wooden pallet.

“Hurry,” Grady snapped, and they both moved to grapple the oil drums, dumping out the water and rolling them away. They dragged the wooden pallet off, revealing a deep hole in the ground with barely enough room for a man to stand upright. A dirty white face peered up at them, eyes blinking against even the moonlight.

“We’re Americans. You’re going home, soldier.” Grady knelt and extended his hand. Stan grabbed the other one, and they hauled the man out.

“Thank you, God,” the man whispered.

“What’s your name?” Stan asked.

“Jason Mallard from Oklahoma City. United States Army. 10thSpecial Forces Group. And you?”

“Green Beret. Well, God damn. I’m Grady. This is Stan. We’re ex-Green Berets. We don’t have a lot of time to chat. There’s a fast boat waiting a half click away. Can you make it?”

“I’ll make it.”

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