Free Disavowed by C. G. Cooper

Johnny’s jawline. War wound or childhood prank?
    “Jim, Johnny and Jonas?” Cal asked, giving Jonas an amused look.
    Jonas raised his palms with a shrug.
    “Why Jim and not Jimmy?” asked Cal, trying to gauge their personalities.
    Johnny Powers answered for his brother. “He used to go by Jimmy until he went into the Corps. Thought Jim sounded more dignified.” He mimed sipping a cup of tea with his pinky finger out.
    Jim gave his brother a dirty look, but grinned. “It’s true. I blurted my nickname the first day of OCS and got reamed. After that I always introduced myself as Jim.” He shrugged like it was neither a good or bad thing, just something he’d done and rolled with ever since. “Jonas tells us you’re Marine.”
    Cal nodded. “Seems like a long time ago. When did you get out?”
    “A year ago. Finished my commitment and bumped into Jonas on a private hop to Dubai. The rest, as they say, is history.”
    “What did you fly in the Corps?” asked Cal, warming to the brothers.
    “Started on Hueys then moved over to Ospreys. Spent most of my time at Cherry Point flying over Lejeune.”
    “And what about you? Another Marine?” Cal asked Johnny.
    Johnny shook his head vehemently. “No way. Big brother was the one with the stick up his ass. Nope, Air Force all the way. I flew AC-130 Spookies, you know, the gunships.”
    “What he’s not telling you is that he was a member of the Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC), specifically the First Special Operations Wing out of Hurlburt Field. These guys have spent more time over the desert than Lawrence of Arabia did in it.”
    Cal was impressed. Two, no three (he’d have to chat with Benny later) high speed aviators. Most people thought that fighter pilots were the tough guys, the real flying heroes. But Cal knew differently, and apparently so did Jonas. It took big balls to fly a squad of Marines into a hot landing zone. The same thing with the AFSOC pilots. Tasked with supporting special operations troops, they were the elite of the elite despite flying the comparatively unsexy AC-130 gunships. Cal had seen the big bird in action and was more than impressed.
    Suddenly it all came together, what Jonas had set in motion. They didn’t call him The Fortuneteller for nothing. Without a word from Cal, the brilliant billionaire had added to their army. By hiring the three aviators, Jonas effectively gave The Jefferson Group all the air support they’d need. Need someone to fly a helo, gotcha covered. Commercial airliner? No problem. Hell, aside from fighter jets, which Cal figured they’d never get their hands on anyway, they now had the talent to fly anything. He had to hand it to Jonas. One of the best indications of a man’s worth is what he does when you’re not watching. The guy was good, really good.
    “How much do you know about what we’re doing?” Cal asked the brothers.
    Jim looked to Jonas who nodded. “Jonas said we’re going in to pick up a couple of Jarheads, under the radar.”
    Part of Cal was annoyed that Jonas had said that much, but then he realized that if these guys were going to work for him they might as well know, but they had to get the speech now.
    “True. What I’m about to tell you is so over the level of Top Secret there is no classification. The Jefferson Group is a presidentially sanctioned organization tasked with…”
     
    Cal gave them the five thousand foot view. What the president wanted them to do, some of what they’d accomplished over the previous months, and finally why they were on their way to Afghanistan. He included what would happen to them should they divulge The Jefferson Group’s true mission, namely a lifetime incarcerated in solitary confinement. That or a bullet to the head.
    There was silence for a moment as the Powers brothers digested the information. Then, to Cal’s surprise, they turned to each other, Johnny smiling wide, Jim more casual. Simultaneously they raised a hand and