1
Brian Murphy
“So, what branch of service did you say?”
The security guard leading me into the American embassy in Baghdad glances over his shoulder at me. I’m not surprised he’s curious. Most people who meet one of us are. Alpha Force Elite isn’t exactly a well-known branch of service, and my black top, black trousers, boots, vest, and holster don’t exactly identify me as belonging to any one of the main branches of service.
“I’m part of a special forces team,” I tell him. “But I’m former Army.”
“I’ve never heard of AFE before,” the guard tells me.
“Most people haven’t.” I leave it at that.
It’s not that I’m trying to be an unfriendly dick, but as part of a small, elite squad of operators who report to POTUS, we’re trained to keep information close to the vest, even with members of our armed forces. I’ve never really been one for small talk, anyway, and I’m eager to just get the mission over with.
The Secretary of Defense contacted AFE’s commander Alexander Knight a week ago to ask him to extract Ambassador-at-Large Saylor Westbrook, who’s been in Baghdad for almost a year to coordinate counter-terrorism efforts. Recently, there’s been dark web chatter planning his kidnapping. My job is to extract him to Camp Arifjan, an Army post in Kuwait. I’ve spent my fair share of time on deployments in both areas, and I know them like the back of my hand, which is why I was selected for this particular operation to go boots-on-the-ground. Still, my fellow Alphas are always in my ear—literally, during an operation.
The guard seems to pick up my desire to not say much at all, so he nods and leads me through the heavily secure building to an office that has “Ambassador Westbrook” on the door. He knocks, and then a deep voice within says, “Come in.”
We step in as the ambassador rises from his seat, his hand extended to me. “Sergeant Murphy. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too, sir.” I shake his hand firmly. “I take it you’ve been briefed by security, yes?”
“Yes, of course.” Westbrook sighs deeply, shaking his head. “All due respect, Sergeant, but I’ve faced threats nearly nonstop throughout my whole career. I feel like I’m making some real progress with the leaders in this city, this country. To leave now feels like it would be catastrophic.”
“I can understand that, Ambassador,” I reply. “And, truly, we hate to interrupt your work. However, we have every reason to believe these threats against you are credible, and POTUS has given us very clear instructions to remove you. At least for now.”
“When will I be able to return?”
I shake my head. “We don’t decide that, sir. POTUS does. So I’ll leave that conversation between the two of you if it’s all the same.” I glance around the office. “Are you ready to leave, sir? We have a helicopter standing by at a safe location outside the city where we’ll be taking you to Camp Arifjan.”
“I can’t leave without my daughter.”
I blanche. “Your…what now, sir?”
He looks at me like I’ve grown another nose. “My daughter. Natalie? They didn’t brief you?”
I take a deep breath. What the fucking fuck? “No, sir. Where is she?”
“She just arrived in the city last week. She got an internship with a global financial company headquartered here. She wanted to spend time with me.” The ambassador shakes his head in disbelief at me. “You truly don’t know about her?”
“We weren’t briefed that you had a family member in Baghdad with you. We were under the impression that it was just you.” I fold my arms.
“Well, she did ask me to keep it quiet. She’s studying international business and didn’t want any special attention.”
“We need to know these things.” I briefly grip my forehead. “All right. Where is—”
A deafening explosion rocks the building, shaking it on its foundation.
Bits of ceiling rain down as the lights flicker. All three of us stumble on our feet. Immediately, sirens and alarms in the building and outside of it begin to shriek, and several more members of Ambassador Westbrook’s security detail come charging into the office.
“What the hell is it?” Westbrook shouts.
“Bomb,” one of the guards says. “We need to get you to a safe location now, sir.”
“Apparently I’m going to Kuwait,” Westbrook says, gesturing to me.
I hesitate. The mission is to get the ambassador on that helicopter, but without knowing exactly what’s going on, getting him in the air right now could be a death sentence. “Get him to a secure location,” I say, pulling out my cell phone.
I place a call to AFE HQ in Maryland.
“Diego,” a youthful voice says.
Nicholas Diego is the youngest member of AFE at twenty-four, but he’s a technical genius. No, a wizard. He was in the Air Force long enough to get some field experience, and then he was one of the first members recruited to AFE for his expertise.
“D, it’s Murph,” I say. “I’m at the Embassy, but I think we were just bombed.”
“Just a second.” I hear rapid clicks and clacks on the other end. “Yes. I’ve accessed surveillance feed from the last fifteen minutes. Five minutes ago, an incoming incendiary object hit the building. Anyone hurt?”
“Don’t know, but our package is fine for now. However, I’m hesitant about putting him on the bird to Arifjan. Doesn’t seem safe.”
“I’d advise against it, but you should check with Knight. Sit tight.”
As I wait for Knight to get on the call, I glance over at the extremely impatient guards. One of them is talking into a radio, likely getting an assessment of the damage to the rest of the building.
“We need to go now,” the head guard says pointedly.
“Murph?” Knight’s voice crackles into my ear.
I explain the situation to him as rapidly as possible, along with my feelings.
“Don’t get him in the air yet,” Knight says. “Let his security detail take him where they need to. We’ll do some legwork in the meantime, and I’ll have the pilot standby until further notice. We’ll be in touch.”
“Roger that one.” I disconnect. “Ambassador, we’re putting our travel plans on hold. It’s time to get out of here. Have you got an exit secured?”
“The device blasted the front of the building,” one of the guards says. “We’ll go right out the back. His armored car is waiting.”
I nod. “Ambassador, I’ll be in touch as soon as possible.”
“Wait, wait.” The ambassador reaches into his pocket for his wallet, then draws out a picture. “That’s my daughter. Find her, please. She’s out there somewhere, and I don’t know who knows she’s here.”
He gives me an address for the US-owned apartment complex where she lives. The guards and I exchange information, so I can keep them in the loop. “I’ll do my best to locate her.”
“Do better than that,” Westbrook implores as he’s led out of the room. “Find her. I won’t leave without her.”