Free Trident's First Gleaming: A Special Operations Group Thriller by Stephen Templin Page B

he’d wanted to learn, so he’d agreed not to talk about his training. “Is there anyone in our business who doesn’t know Ron?”
    “I’d heard of him; that’s why I signed up for one of his courses. When I first arrived at the school, someone must’ve said ‘hi’ to me, but I didn’t notice, and even if I had, I wouldn’t have known it was Hickok because I’d never met him before.”
    “Why are you talking to me about Ron Hickok?”
    “That asshole kicked me out before I even started training—just because I didn’t return his greeting. My boss tried to smooth things over on the phone, but Hickok refused to accept me.”
    Chris gave her a patient smile. “I’m assuming there’s some point to this.”
    She made a punching motion. “He’s lucky I didn’t give him optic surgery.”
    “What he lacks in personality, he more than makes up for with firearms talent.”
    “Guess so. Victor learned under him.”
    Chris sat up in his chair. “So that’s the point. This is about Victor.”
    She nodded.
    “You ever hear of Flash-Kill ?” he asked.
    “Yeah. That’s Hickok’s move that kills his target so fast that the rest of the world seems to slow down. He was legendary for using it in Iraq.”
    Chris leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Did he ever teach it to Victor?”
    “I heard he never taught Flash-Kill. The only one who ever used it was Hickok.”
    “So why are you telling me all this?”
    “Because Victor is dangerous.” There was a slight quiver in her voice. “And I don’t trust him.”
    Chris nodded. “I don’t know him enough to trust him, but I don’t know enough to like him, either.”
    “Do me a favor,” she said. “If he somehow manages to stab me in the back, kill him.”
    “Love to.” He spotted Victor ambling to the gate and smiled at him. He knew she didn’t literally mean stab her in the back , and he knew that she was joking when she said kill him . At least he hoped that was the case.
    Victor arrived and stopped next to Chris and Hannah. “What were you two talking about?”
    “Nothing,” Hannah said.
    “You were both just exercising your lips?” Victor said.
    “Are you infatuated with my lips?” Chris asked in a friendly tone, teasing him.
    Victor stared at him. “No.”
    Jim Bob arrived then, and when he saw Victor arguing, he scolded him in his fatherly tone. “Play nice, Victor.”
    Chris wasn’t looking forward to the sixteen-hour trip, wishing he could use the time for more shooting practice. While he sat on the plane getting softer, the tangos would be out running and gunning and getting harder. It was frustrating.
    Just after 1630 hours, they boarded their plane. Jim Bob had a carry-on bag, but he couldn’t lift his arms above his head to put it in the overhead compartment, so Victor helped him.
    Chris and Hannah sat down, the seats around them still empty. “What’s wrong with Jim Bob’s arms?” Chris whispered.
    “He was captured by Hezbollah, and they tied his arms behind his back in torture positions,” Hannah replied.
    “So his arms are normal except for motion above his head?”
    She nodded. “Jim Bob stalled, giving them false intelligence and unclassified information.”
    “How was he released?”
    Hannah snapped her buckle into place. “He wasn’t. He escaped.”
    Impressive . “How’d he do it?”
    “He faked appendicitis, and when two guards came in to look at him, he snatched one of their weapons and shot his way out. Before escaping the compound, he came across Victor’s cell and freed him.” Hannah opened the in-flight magazine and looked at the schedule of movies.
    “Hmm…” Chris made himself as comfortable as he could. He wasn’t interested in watching a flick, though. He had other things to do. While he couldn’t physically practice shooting, he could visualize himself shooting, increasing his biological performance and helping him to close the gap between the shooter he was now and the shooter he could