Free Warriors (9781101621189) by Tom Young Page A

across the man’s torn blazer, and darkened to burgundy when it dripped into the soil. Chips of bone floated in the blood, fragments of the shoulder blade.
    DuÅ¡ic held the sidearm pointed downward at his victim, inhaled the aroma of pistol smoke. Considered whether to administer a coup de grâce to the head. No, he thought, drag this out a little. Create the most vivid impression possible for the remaining
razvodnik
s.
    Yvgeny turned over. Smaller entrance wound, DuÅ¡ic noted, but still messy. The wounded recruit pleaded to his comrades.
    â€œDo not let this man kill me!” he said. “Stop him.”
    â€œNone of you move,” DuÅ¡ic said, waving his sidearm. “Let this simpleton’s fate serve as a lesson to you. I will tolerate no insubordination, no breaches of security.”
    Yvgeny struggled to his knees, then scrambled to his feet and ran. DuÅ¡ic fired again. The round hit the man in the arm. Yvgeny screamed and kept running.
    â€œDamn my poor aim,” DuÅ¡ic said. And now the simpleton was getting out of pistol range. DuÅ¡ic turned to his friend. “Stefan,” he said, “if you please.”
    Stefan shouldered his rifle. Aimed in the offhand position for just a moment. Fired.
    Yvgeny’s head flew apart in a spray of pink. The corpse dropped into the field. Like Stefan’s best work of old, DuÅ¡ic thought. The target utterly motionless now, dead before the shot’s echo ever registered. The two other recruits gaped. Sweat beaded on Andrei’s face, though the air felt cool. Nikolas inhaled and exhaled as if each breath required thought and effort. Message received, evidently.
    â€œFind shovels,” DuÅ¡ic ordered. “Bury him.”

7
    IN THE BASE COMMANDER’S OFFICE , Parson and Gold briefed Webster and the OSI agent on the interviews with the Afghan ground crew. As Parson recounted the discussions, he felt he’d fallen short. The interviews seemed to raise more questions than they answered. But, to Parson’s surprise, Cunningham appeared pleased.
    â€œSo we want to keep a closer eye on those boys,” the OSI agent said.
    â€œSorry we can’t tell you more,” Parson said.
    â€œNo,” Cunningham said, “you guys did good. You might have spooked them if you’d pushed any harder.”
    Even though Parson had no experience in law enforcement, he understood that concept because he’d hunted all his life. And it occurred to him this was a little like stalking game. You didn’t blindly tear through the woods after a deer; the prey would just disappear. Sometimes you had to wait and watch. And that’s what Cunningham wanted to do.
    â€œI’d like to think of a way to conduct a little surveillance on that hangar for a while,” Cunningham said.
    Parson waited to hear the agent’s plan, but Cunningham said nothing else. So he was open to suggestions, then.
    â€œAnybody got any ideas?” Webster asked. Parson looked over at Gold. She usually did the creative thinking for him, but she seemed to draw a blank this time.
    What they needed, Parson figured, was a deer stand. A way to sit still and observe without being observed. Or at least without being observed with suspicion. Parson turned a few thoughts over in his mind, ways to use the resources at hand. Would Webster and Cunningham just think he was crazy? Well, he’d heard of prosecutors and cops doing some pretty offbeat things to catch bad guys. Couldn’t hurt to let them hear what he was thinking. Parson told them his idea.
    â€œSneaky,” Webster said.
    â€œYou should have joined OSI,” Cunningham said.
    Gold just half smiled and shook her head.
    First, they needed to borrow one of the KC-135s out there on the flight line, along with a crew. Webster called the 618th Tanker Airlift Control Center at Scott Air Force Base in Illinois. He asked for the director of operations, a full-bird colonel like