Chapter One
"
A hero is born among a hundred, a wise man is found among a thousand, but an accomplished one might not be found even among a hundred thousand men."
- Plato
***
Some men deserve to die, but these three deserved to spend the rest of their miserable lives wishing they were dead.
Sean "Recon" Wallace heard the woman screaming as soon as the doors to the van had opened. Noticing headlights in the pre-dawn darkness he had watched the van driving to the remote cabin of his neighbor Gideon James as he was cutting through the woods on his way to his own cabin about a mile farther into the southwest Georgia wilderness. The winding dirt road the van had chosen only had one destination and Sean knew that Gideon neither invited guests to his cabin, nor welcomed them.
Gideon's lack of hospitality wouldn't be an issue, however, because he was currently in Washington, DC arguing a court case on behalf of one of the several Native American tribes that he represented on a pro bono basis.
Gideon James took pride in the history of his cabin and resisted any impulse to improve upon its rustic nature. His great-grandfather had built the cabin out of hardwood logs that he had harvested himself from the land surrounding the site. The fireplace was constructed from stones that had once sat on the riverbed of the Flint River before the Army Corps of Engineers had dredged the channel to accommodate deep-draft vessels. There was no glass in the windows, only shutters to open and close as the weather dictated. There was no running water, but there was a well pump handle mounted over the soapstone sink along the interior rear wall of the cabin as well as one on the side of the outhouse.
Gideon would often be found by Sean using a bow saw to slice strips from a cedar log in order to have replacement shingles for his roof. The effort required to maintain the old cabin wasn't extensive, and Sean knew that Gideon relished the manual labor involved after having spent his professional career behind a desk or standing in a courtroom.
Sean had left his own cabin well before dawn to check his traps. He had retrieved his captured prey and had expected to be back to his cabin before sunrise, but this diversion would obviously delay his plans to leave for the 250-mile drive to Atlanta. Tying his trapped Muskrat carcasses to the branch of a Live Oak tree, Sean had quietly approached Gideon's cabin from downwind as he had learned even before his Marine Corps Force Recon Training had tattooed the skill into his conscious and unconscious thoughts.
Not that there was much wind on this Wednesday morning in the middle of May. Later in the afternoon, as the heat of the day increased, the thunderstorms common to the area would likely arrive and bring with them gusts and possibly tornadoes, although these tended to stay to the north of this location. For now, Sean was comfortable with the temperature in the high sixties and the pre-dawn skies clear.
Establishing an observation spot about 20 feet up on the branch of a Shagbark Hickory that had already sprouted most of its new growth leaves, he was in position prior to the van's eventual arrival, and he was well situated to witness the intentions of the men by both their words and their actions.
Reverting again to his training, Sean assigned 'Tango' designations to each of his targets. Tango One was acting as a leader of the group, giving orders to the other two as he used a knife to start cutting the clothes from the woman. He was just under six feet, in his early forties, with a protruding forehead, dark Slavic hair, and caveman-like features. Tango Two was about the same height and build, but lighter in skin tone and hair color. He was currently using a pry bar to remove the padlock and hasp from the door to Gideon's cabin. Tango Three stood a few inches over six feet, was thinner than his partners, but had the same simian characteristics as his associates. He alternated between holding an automatic rifle on the woman and unloading what appeared to be camera equipment from the back of the van.
The woman continued to scream and struggle, but several brutal blows from Tango One to her abdomen took her breath, and subsequently any sound out of her. Tango One had a handful of her long brunette hair wrapped into one of his fists as he pulled her face to his and yelled at her, "Just because I don't want any bruising or signs of abuse visible before we shoot our little movie, don't think for a second that you won't experience great pain if you fail to do exactly as you are told. Do you understand me, Bitch?"
Tango One lessened his grip on her hair enough to allow her to respond with a nod and then tightened it again as Tango Two got the cabin door open and swung it wide for her to be pushed inside. Sean heard her stumble and fall into the cabin with the tell-tale sound of furniture being overturned in the process. When he saw one of the Tangos was opening all the shutters around the cabin, Sean quickly sought an observation post that would allow him to monitor the situation as it developed inside the cabin. He realized that this "green mission," where he would only need to assess, report, call in support, and evade detection was going to become a "black mission" very soon, with him needing to neutralize the targets and extricate the hostage.
Moving behind a large laurel oak tree on the north side of the cabin, Sean had a clear view through one of the windows. The early pre-dawn moonlight was coming through a west-facing window, allowing enough light for the Tangos to navigate the cabin and for Sean to observe their movements. He watched as Tango Two moved the overturned furniture out of their way while Tango Three began setting up lights and cameras, which Sean found interesting since Gideon's rustic cabin didn't have any electricity. Tango One was still taunting and threatening the woman with his knife, occasionally cutting another piece of her clothing so that it would fall away from her body.
With his advanced training in lethal and non-lethal close-quarter combat, Sean really didn't need a weapon to be able to handle all three of the Tangos. Seven members of an al Qaeda terrorist group had the misfortune of running into Sean while they were attempting to breach the American Embassy in Tanzania. It had been a slaughter. All seven terrorists, each tough, hardened, and armed, were dead within five minutes. Sean never even pulled his gun. He did it all with his hands, elbows, and feet, moving with a speed, precision, and power that the other Marine guards—with all their world travels—had never before encountered.
Sean did have his Sharpfinger hunting knife if circumstances required, but he saw an opportunity to disarm and secure the Tangos without any struggle at all. Picking up a thin but sturdy eight-inch piece of a fallen tree branch about one-half inch in diameter and sliding around the cabin to the front porch, Sean tested the stability of the planks as he stepped lightly on the first one. He detected no sound nor felt any vibration from his movement. Using this same degree of care and skill, he continued up on the porch and waited just outside the open door.
Tango Two had pulled the mattress off Gideon's bed and placed it in the center of the room. Tango Three was moving back towards the door while facing his partners inside the room.
Once Tango Three was positioned with his body fully in the center of the doorframe with one of the cameras and had turned on the bright battery-powered light affixed to it, Sean crouched behind him and pressed the hard piece of the tree branch into his groin from behind. As Tango Three froze at the feeling of what he thought was the barrel of a gun against his privates, Sean quickly pulled the automatic rifle from his shoulder where it had hung by its strap while filming was getting prepared.
Tango One was preoccupied with preparing the woman for their first scene, while Tango Two had begun undressing. Sean put the rifle on "single-shot" and fired one round into the rafters above the room. Pushing Tango Three before him into the room, the camera clattered to the floor where the light shattered and extinguished. Having been behind the camera light, Sean's eyes adjusted to the loss of light much quicker than the others in the room. Sean saw that Tango One had pulled the woman in front of himself as a shield, holding her hair with his left hand as he raised the knife menacingly with his right hand.
With a speed of motion that surprised even Sean, the woman pivoted on her right foot, while at the same time digging the fingernails from both hands into the wrist holding the knife and pushing it away from her. Before Tango One could respond by yanking the woman's hair, she had brought her left knee into his groin. As her knee connected, Tango One grunted and released both her hair and the knife as he doubled over in pain. The woman quickly scurried away from his reach, retrieving the knife from the floor as she stood with her back against the wall brandishing the weapon in a defensive posture.
While the smell of cordite filled the morning air, Sean kept the rifle trained on the three Tangos as he motioned for the woman to come to him. She looked drawn and frightened, but after some initial hesitation, she moved around the periphery of the room to the door of the cabin with Sean standing between her and the three men.
She never took her eyes off Sean as she moved towards him. He was shorter than any of the three other men, probably around five foot ten inches, but he seemed so much bigger than them. She noted his long sandy colored hair, handsome facial features underneath several days of unshaven growth, broad shoulders, and slim muscular physique. He was wearing blue jeans, low-rise leather hiking boots, and a tan fishing vest over a white polo shirt. While not muscle-bound, he exuded a strength such as she had never seen before in a man. If he wasn't the best-looking man she had ever seen, which she suspected he might be, he was definitely the man she had the hardest time taking her eyes off of.
Her first impression upon looking into his dark blue eyes, even in the dim light available, was one of a feral beast who had been wounded or cornered. An almost inhuman rage emanated from his expression towards the other men. She thought that it must be making the blood in the marrow of the men congeal with fright, but she instinctively knew that she was safe with him.
Visions of heroes from all the romance novels she had read as a teenager came to mind, but this man surpassed images from any of those books. His visage radiated strength and confidence that made her feel instantly safe and secure. There was also a familiarity to him that she could not explain. Like the arrow of a compass, she was drawn in his direction as if he were her magnetic north. She knew that she had never seen this man before - she would have definitely remembered him.
"Wallets on the floor. Now!" Sean ordered as he brushed some of his hair off his face.
Tango Two and Three quickly removed their wallets and tossed them onto the floor at Sean's feet. Tango One was still recovering from the woman's assault, so he was slower to respond. With obvious effort, he straightened enough to reach into the rear pocket of his pants, removed his wallet and tossed it on the floor with the others.
"Now, I want the three of you in a kneeling position on the floor where you will interlock your ankles and remain perfectly still. Once situated, you will each place your hands on top of your heads."
When the three men were in a controlled position on the wooden plank floor, Sean knelt and began reviewing their identification within each wallet.
"If the names on your driver's licenses are correct you all have names of Slavic origin. Are any of you United States citizens?"
Tango One and Three just shook their heads, but Tango Two added in heavily accented English, "Green Cards. We're in the country legally."
Sean tucked some loose hairs behind his ear and checked the wallets further, finding current permanent resident identification cards for each under the same names as on the driver's licenses.
"Too bad," Sean said. "Permanent residency does not equal citizenship, and that means that you are all still foreign nationals, which under the current Presidential Finding on Domestic Terrorism means that you are not afforded the protections under our Constitution guaranteed to citizens. There are more than thirty very painful ways I could kill each of you, but as long as you do what I tell you, I promise you will leave this cabin alive."
