Manipulation - Chapter Twelve
Aug. 22nd, 2011 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indigo_angelsMaybe an hour later, they were back. This time with tables, chairs, women, beer and barbeques, Face watched anxiously as they set their little party up right behind him, he could feel the warmth of their campfire on his naked ass and all that tension came back as the party got going.
At first they mostly ignored him. Sure, he knew there were a lot of comments flying around his way, but he could disregard that, hell he could hardly understand them, so it wasn’t hard. But then the attention started to mount, comments shouted in his ear, a cuff across the back of the head, a stone thrown, a crack across his previously unmarked back with a belt or a shoe – a hand groping his ass...
And that’s when his blood ran cold. Once the first guy had done it, the others all seemed to follow. Yousafzai did what he had done throughout his whole ordeal, kick back in silence and watch, smoking or eating or drinking and letting his men get on with whatever they wanted, and the stakes just rose higher and higher with the alcohol.
“Hello, pretty boy,” one of the men, a tall guy with a goatee beard who the others called Taz, leered as he rubbed his crotch up and down the crack of Face’s ass, “I think we are going to be good friends tonight? Yes?”
“In your dreams loser,” Face snarled, old habits dying hard.
But his antagonist just laughed, “If Abdul says I can have you, you are mine,” then he squeezed the round globes of flesh, hard, and walked away, laughing.
Face looked round and found Yousafzai watching him, a woman sat at his side, methodically rubbing the swelling bulge in his trousers and he raised his drink at Face who turned away, desperately trying to keep the fear out of his expression.
So, this was it then, they were going to rape him, more than one of them, he supposed, probably all of them, and once the night really got going and the alcohol really got flowing, he knew there was no way on this earth that he would survive that. They would kill him, that much was obvious, the alcohol and the hysteria and the mob mentality would combine to ensure he didn’t see the sun rise on another day, it was a phenomena he had been unlucky enough to witness the after-effects of in warzones all over the world. Sometimes even practised by the ‘good’ guys...
He dropped his head onto the wooden stake in despair.
_____________________
“Ho w much longer, BA?” Hannibal asked tightly, looking at his watch.
BA let out a long sigh. “About another hour, man. I’m goin’ as fast as I can.”
“I know, BA, I know,” Hannibal soothed him.
“I woulda flown you know, boss. For Face.”
“I know BA, but it would have taken a couple of hours to get a chopper, at least we are off under our own steam now. And if Taylor and that damn woman get there before us, well, you got to trust they will do right by Face as well.”
BA slid back into silence as he concentrated on driving as fast as he could, but Hannibal had heard Murdock’s ironic little noise from the back. An hour, that’s all they were, an hour away. Hannibal just hoped that Face could hold on.
_____________________
Ironically, Face realised that Yousafzai was his only possible way out. He turned and watched the man again, noted how he seemed irritated by some of the behaviour of his troops and knew he was the only one who could offer Face any kind of protection. But of course he wasn’t stupid here, knew that, out of all of the people around him, Yousafzai was the one who hated him most, the one who had the greatest desire to see him die most horribly, he wasn’t going to step in on some kind of humanitarian mission here. No, what Face needed to do was to try and convince him to kill him some other way, a way that Yousafzai would get more satisfaction from than just watching his men bugger him until he bled to death. A way that would give Face even the slimmest of chances of getting out alive.
That needed some thought; he just hoped he had time to do it.
_____________________
“Jesus Christ! I don’t believe this!” Hannibal ranted as BA put his back behind the wheel wrench.
Murdock was stood with the fresh tyre, his teeth nervously worrying his lip as his eyes kept flicking up in the direction of Buf’s ranch.
“I’m doin’ my best!” BA hissed as his muscles corded with the effort.
_____________________
Just after midnight, Face’s time ran out.
Taz was back, a bit of a slur to his words, a slight weave in his step, but Face could see from the very ready bulge in his crotch that brewer’s droop was not going to be a problem for this one. His plan wasn’t ready, it was too sketchy, too new in his mind, but now it was his very last chance.
“Told you, pretty boy,” Taz purred into his ear, “Abdul says I can have you first, I can have the honour of splitting you open for the others,” Face tried not to shudder. “But first you are going to suck my cock, and you are going to make it good for me, or I will open you up with a knife before my dick goes there. Understand?”
Face turned away from him, “Hey, Abdul!” he shouted, feeling the rawness in his throat from the screaming and the water, “I thought you were supposed to be a soldier?”
A hush fell around the camp and Yousafzai’s eyes fell on Face, narrowing as they did. “Shut up, Peck,” he snarled.
Face swallowed hard, that hadn’t gone too well, and tried again. “You wanted rid of me? I thought you’d be man enough to do it yourself, instead of letting your fairies here do it for you.” The fact that Taz didn’t punch Face out there and then was only because he wasn’t exactly sure what the English word ‘fairies’ meant.
Yousafzai rose to his feet and the rest of the party fell quiet, “I said shut up,” he whispered.
One more go... “I mean I can see why you would need to get your men to rough me up a bit first, I’m still an active combatant after all and you are, well,” Face dredged up a smile from somewhere, “semi-retired maybe? You and I wouldn’t be a fair fight unless I was compromised.”
Only the crackling of the fire interrupted the silence now as Yousafzai stalked up to Face, “You arrogant American,” he hissed, every man listening to him, “you think you can fight me?”
Face nodded, and here was the thing, “Not just fight you, evade you. I’m spec ops trained, there is a reason you’ve taken fifteen years to catch up with me you know, I’m fucking good at not being found,” the challenge was there in his eyes.
Yousafzai reacted in a second, reaching up to crack Face across the back of his head, knocking his face into the wooden pole in front of him, “Your arrogance astounds me, Peck. You really think you can evade me and my men for longer than five minutes?”
Trying not to let his disappointment show at the ‘and my men’ line, Face laughed. “Piece of cake,” he whispered.
For a second no one moved, no one breathed as Face and Yousafzai locked eyes, and then the Afghan turned away, laughing to himself. “No,” he breathed, “I’m too tired. Taz? He’s yours, fuck him.”
Swallowing his panic, Face refused to give up, “Chicken shit,” he muttered and Yousafzai stopped.
“What did you call me?” the fury in his eyes was terrifying.
“You heard,” Face held his nerve.
Suddenly, Yousafzai was flying at him, knife raised and Face realised he’d just swapped being buggered to death for having his flesh sliced off in delicate strips instead, but then Yousafzai just cut the ropes, four brutal slashes with the knife and Face was free, clinging onto the wooden poles to stop from pitching to the ground. “You have five minutes. Run.”
Face looked up in horror, five minutes? That’s not how this was supposed to go. “What about some water?” he asked, he’d not had a drink since the stuff he swallowed by accident in the waterboarding “Clothes, shoes... a weapon?” he added hopefully.
Yousafzai was impassive, “Four minutes, fifty five seconds.”
Face swore under his breath and took off running, or more accurately staggering, towards the line of trees at the side of the field. As he ran, he heard Yousafzai shout, “Get ready. Whoever finds him can have first go!”
Taz’s roar of frustration made his blood run cold.
_____________________
By the time the stubborn wheel was changed, the first fingers of light were stretching through the black sky. Hannibal jumped back in as BA took off with a screech of rubber. He just hoped that this enforced halt wouldn’t prove costly.
____________________
Face hit the tree line running and immediately knew he was in trouble. The trees were close together and there would be no way that he could move at the speed he needed to in order to get away and hide his trail at the same time. He was as vulnerable as all hell out here as well; no weapons and his naked skin would almost glow in the light from the moon. There was only one thing he could do, only one possible way out.
He stopped, breathing hard, every single part of his body crying out in agony and looked up. He needed a tree, one he could climb, but would offer him enough cover to keep him hidden. If it could then facilitate an ambush, more than better, but hearing the yells and whoops coming from the field, Face knew his time was limited. Choosing his tree quickly, he marshalled his protesting muscles together, took hold of the rough bark in both hands and started to climb.
_____________________
Yousafzai was already regretting his decision to let Face go. He knew damn well the reputation of this man and his unit back in Afghanistan, he’d tried to get to Face on any number of occasions while the wound from his mutilated hand was still raw, but they had always evaded him.
He also knew that he had upset Taz with the withdrawal of the honour of first go with the American, and as much as Taz was his inferior, he was a dangerous man, not one to disappoint lightly. Yousafzai scowled, annoyed that he had let Peck goad him this way and looked at his watch. Three minutes, well that would do.
“Get him,” he hissed under his breath at his men and they all moved out.
_______________________
Face had just pulled his trailing leg up into the canopy when the first of Yousafzai‘s men crashed into the trees around him. He huddled on his branch, praying that no one would think to look up and that they were all too full of the blood lust to try and pick up his trail too hard.
He was lucky, whooping and yelling everyone moved out and within ten seconds their noises were fading into the trees behind him. He leaned back against the trunk, breathing hard, his heart pounding uncomfortably, every muscle in his body trembling with pain and exhaustion and tried to plan his next move.
He never got the chance. Just as he was thinking that he might make it, that they might all lose themselves in their drunken stampede, there was a noise beneath him and a voice, cold in the darkness. “You’d better get down from there, pretty boy. I told you what I wanted, and now it’s time you delivered.” Face’s gut clenched in terror and he looked down to see Taz staring up at him, predatory leer stretched across his mouth.
Face knew he had one chance at this, one chance only and then it was all over. Without pause he dropped from the tree, knowing that he was right above his adversary. Taz tried to get out of his way, and swung with his knife, catching Face in the thigh, but the weight of a six foot man dropping on his neck was too much and the both fell to the ground, Face on top, disappointed that his momentum hadn’t broken Taz’s neck.
The struggle was brief but violent, Face felt wrong, exposed, to have to do this naked, but it needed doing and it needed doing fast. Ignoring Taz’s swinging fists and he brought his leg up and around the guy’s neck, bracing himself behind and grabbing his head with both hands. Face took a deep breath, one chance and one chance only, and twisted, almost sagging in relief as he heard the tell tale crack and Taz went limp between his legs.
He allowed himself no time at all to recover, quickly scrambling to his feet and dragging the body into the bushes nearby. As soon as he had the benefit of the sparse cover he set to work, stripping his victim of weapons first and then clothes. Within three minutes, Face was ready. He had a gun, plenty of ammo, a knife, a set of clothes, some decent boots and nine more adversaries to finish off.
Game on.
___________________
When the van arrived at Buf’s ranch with the first of the sun’s rays, it was blatantly obvious that there was no need for stealth on the team’s part; there were plain black sedans and men in suits crawling all over the place. Hannibal drew a number of stares as he jumped out the second the wheels stopped turning, stalking across the driveway, his keen blue eyes already scanning the scene. “Where’s Taylor?” he barked to a passing suit in a voice that was used to being obeyed and the man raised his arm pointing to a knot of CIA huddled in a corner, deep in conversation.
“Taylor!” Hannibal shouted, now flanked by Murdock and BA, and the man looked over, immediately brushing his colleagues off and making his way over to meet Hannibal.
“He’s not here,” he snapped, the disappointment clear in his eyes.
“Face or Yousafzai?” Hannibal’s voice was tight.
“Neither.”
“So where are they then, man?” BA interjected, his eyes cold as he stared at Taylor.
“Colonel...” Murdock’s quiet voice, however, stopped Taylor’s reply in its tracks and all three men turned to where Murdock had pointed, where he was now wandering over to, his steps slow and hesitant.
As his eyes followed, Hannibal just sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes as the truth of what had happened here began to make itself known, bit by bit, but BA swore, loudly. “Oh, man!” he seethed as his dark eyes took in the waterboarding kit, “Not again!”
Clapping him on the shoulder, Hannibal went over to Murdock, who was now trailing his fingers over the wooden board, lingering at the dark blood stains in the wood’s grain. “Come on Captain,” his voice was firm but the pain was there for Murdock to hear.
Murdock didn’t move. “Can he get over this again, Colonel?” and for a minute Hannibal was lost for words.
He took Murdock’s arm, “Come on,” he repeated and led him back to where BA and Taylor waited.
“Hannibal!” BA shouted as soon as they were in hearing distance, “We got a lead!”
Taylor looked excited now, radio in one hand barking instructions into it as his eyes roved over the woods at the side of the property. “Report, Corporal!” Hannibal snapped.
BA turned to them, his face grave. “One of the women livin’ here says that last night they turned Face loose in the woods with a five minute start and then set out to hunt him.” Hannibal’s hands tightened into fists. “Yousafzai and all his men went into the trees, told the women to wait and that they wouldn’t be long.”
“And?” Hannibal prompted.
“Well,” BA looked over his shoulder at the massive expanse of trees, “That was in the early hours. No one has come out since.”
All three men now turned to stare out at the never ending expanse of trees as Taylor still barked instructions into his radio.
“Did Face have any weapons?”
BA shook his head, “Nothin’ man,” the anger was clear in BA’s face, “Not a stitch o’clothes, no shoes, no weapons, rations, nothin’.”
Now it was Murdock’s turn to swear.
“Right,” Hannibal had made his decision and his plan. “We are going in after him, five minutes boys, go and get the things we need from the van while I talk to suit-man here.”
Relieved to have a purpose, all three men turned to their jobs.
Next
At first they mostly ignored him. Sure, he knew there were a lot of comments flying around his way, but he could disregard that, hell he could hardly understand them, so it wasn’t hard. But then the attention started to mount, comments shouted in his ear, a cuff across the back of the head, a stone thrown, a crack across his previously unmarked back with a belt or a shoe – a hand groping his ass...
And that’s when his blood ran cold. Once the first guy had done it, the others all seemed to follow. Yousafzai did what he had done throughout his whole ordeal, kick back in silence and watch, smoking or eating or drinking and letting his men get on with whatever they wanted, and the stakes just rose higher and higher with the alcohol.
“Hello, pretty boy,” one of the men, a tall guy with a goatee beard who the others called Taz, leered as he rubbed his crotch up and down the crack of Face’s ass, “I think we are going to be good friends tonight? Yes?”
“In your dreams loser,” Face snarled, old habits dying hard.
But his antagonist just laughed, “If Abdul says I can have you, you are mine,” then he squeezed the round globes of flesh, hard, and walked away, laughing.
Face looked round and found Yousafzai watching him, a woman sat at his side, methodically rubbing the swelling bulge in his trousers and he raised his drink at Face who turned away, desperately trying to keep the fear out of his expression.
So, this was it then, they were going to rape him, more than one of them, he supposed, probably all of them, and once the night really got going and the alcohol really got flowing, he knew there was no way on this earth that he would survive that. They would kill him, that much was obvious, the alcohol and the hysteria and the mob mentality would combine to ensure he didn’t see the sun rise on another day, it was a phenomena he had been unlucky enough to witness the after-effects of in warzones all over the world. Sometimes even practised by the ‘good’ guys...
He dropped his head onto the wooden stake in despair.
_____________________
“Ho w much longer, BA?” Hannibal asked tightly, looking at his watch.
BA let out a long sigh. “About another hour, man. I’m goin’ as fast as I can.”
“I know, BA, I know,” Hannibal soothed him.
“I woulda flown you know, boss. For Face.”
“I know BA, but it would have taken a couple of hours to get a chopper, at least we are off under our own steam now. And if Taylor and that damn woman get there before us, well, you got to trust they will do right by Face as well.”
BA slid back into silence as he concentrated on driving as fast as he could, but Hannibal had heard Murdock’s ironic little noise from the back. An hour, that’s all they were, an hour away. Hannibal just hoped that Face could hold on.
_____________________
Ironically, Face realised that Yousafzai was his only possible way out. He turned and watched the man again, noted how he seemed irritated by some of the behaviour of his troops and knew he was the only one who could offer Face any kind of protection. But of course he wasn’t stupid here, knew that, out of all of the people around him, Yousafzai was the one who hated him most, the one who had the greatest desire to see him die most horribly, he wasn’t going to step in on some kind of humanitarian mission here. No, what Face needed to do was to try and convince him to kill him some other way, a way that Yousafzai would get more satisfaction from than just watching his men bugger him until he bled to death. A way that would give Face even the slimmest of chances of getting out alive.
That needed some thought; he just hoped he had time to do it.
_____________________
“Jesus Christ! I don’t believe this!” Hannibal ranted as BA put his back behind the wheel wrench.
Murdock was stood with the fresh tyre, his teeth nervously worrying his lip as his eyes kept flicking up in the direction of Buf’s ranch.
“I’m doin’ my best!” BA hissed as his muscles corded with the effort.
_____________________
Just after midnight, Face’s time ran out.
Taz was back, a bit of a slur to his words, a slight weave in his step, but Face could see from the very ready bulge in his crotch that brewer’s droop was not going to be a problem for this one. His plan wasn’t ready, it was too sketchy, too new in his mind, but now it was his very last chance.
“Told you, pretty boy,” Taz purred into his ear, “Abdul says I can have you first, I can have the honour of splitting you open for the others,” Face tried not to shudder. “But first you are going to suck my cock, and you are going to make it good for me, or I will open you up with a knife before my dick goes there. Understand?”
Face turned away from him, “Hey, Abdul!” he shouted, feeling the rawness in his throat from the screaming and the water, “I thought you were supposed to be a soldier?”
A hush fell around the camp and Yousafzai’s eyes fell on Face, narrowing as they did. “Shut up, Peck,” he snarled.
Face swallowed hard, that hadn’t gone too well, and tried again. “You wanted rid of me? I thought you’d be man enough to do it yourself, instead of letting your fairies here do it for you.” The fact that Taz didn’t punch Face out there and then was only because he wasn’t exactly sure what the English word ‘fairies’ meant.
Yousafzai rose to his feet and the rest of the party fell quiet, “I said shut up,” he whispered.
One more go... “I mean I can see why you would need to get your men to rough me up a bit first, I’m still an active combatant after all and you are, well,” Face dredged up a smile from somewhere, “semi-retired maybe? You and I wouldn’t be a fair fight unless I was compromised.”
Only the crackling of the fire interrupted the silence now as Yousafzai stalked up to Face, “You arrogant American,” he hissed, every man listening to him, “you think you can fight me?”
Face nodded, and here was the thing, “Not just fight you, evade you. I’m spec ops trained, there is a reason you’ve taken fifteen years to catch up with me you know, I’m fucking good at not being found,” the challenge was there in his eyes.
Yousafzai reacted in a second, reaching up to crack Face across the back of his head, knocking his face into the wooden pole in front of him, “Your arrogance astounds me, Peck. You really think you can evade me and my men for longer than five minutes?”
Trying not to let his disappointment show at the ‘and my men’ line, Face laughed. “Piece of cake,” he whispered.
For a second no one moved, no one breathed as Face and Yousafzai locked eyes, and then the Afghan turned away, laughing to himself. “No,” he breathed, “I’m too tired. Taz? He’s yours, fuck him.”
Swallowing his panic, Face refused to give up, “Chicken shit,” he muttered and Yousafzai stopped.
“What did you call me?” the fury in his eyes was terrifying.
“You heard,” Face held his nerve.
Suddenly, Yousafzai was flying at him, knife raised and Face realised he’d just swapped being buggered to death for having his flesh sliced off in delicate strips instead, but then Yousafzai just cut the ropes, four brutal slashes with the knife and Face was free, clinging onto the wooden poles to stop from pitching to the ground. “You have five minutes. Run.”
Face looked up in horror, five minutes? That’s not how this was supposed to go. “What about some water?” he asked, he’d not had a drink since the stuff he swallowed by accident in the waterboarding “Clothes, shoes... a weapon?” he added hopefully.
Yousafzai was impassive, “Four minutes, fifty five seconds.”
Face swore under his breath and took off running, or more accurately staggering, towards the line of trees at the side of the field. As he ran, he heard Yousafzai shout, “Get ready. Whoever finds him can have first go!”
Taz’s roar of frustration made his blood run cold.
_____________________
By the time the stubborn wheel was changed, the first fingers of light were stretching through the black sky. Hannibal jumped back in as BA took off with a screech of rubber. He just hoped that this enforced halt wouldn’t prove costly.
____________________
Face hit the tree line running and immediately knew he was in trouble. The trees were close together and there would be no way that he could move at the speed he needed to in order to get away and hide his trail at the same time. He was as vulnerable as all hell out here as well; no weapons and his naked skin would almost glow in the light from the moon. There was only one thing he could do, only one possible way out.
He stopped, breathing hard, every single part of his body crying out in agony and looked up. He needed a tree, one he could climb, but would offer him enough cover to keep him hidden. If it could then facilitate an ambush, more than better, but hearing the yells and whoops coming from the field, Face knew his time was limited. Choosing his tree quickly, he marshalled his protesting muscles together, took hold of the rough bark in both hands and started to climb.
_____________________
Yousafzai was already regretting his decision to let Face go. He knew damn well the reputation of this man and his unit back in Afghanistan, he’d tried to get to Face on any number of occasions while the wound from his mutilated hand was still raw, but they had always evaded him.
He also knew that he had upset Taz with the withdrawal of the honour of first go with the American, and as much as Taz was his inferior, he was a dangerous man, not one to disappoint lightly. Yousafzai scowled, annoyed that he had let Peck goad him this way and looked at his watch. Three minutes, well that would do.
“Get him,” he hissed under his breath at his men and they all moved out.
_______________________
Face had just pulled his trailing leg up into the canopy when the first of Yousafzai‘s men crashed into the trees around him. He huddled on his branch, praying that no one would think to look up and that they were all too full of the blood lust to try and pick up his trail too hard.
He was lucky, whooping and yelling everyone moved out and within ten seconds their noises were fading into the trees behind him. He leaned back against the trunk, breathing hard, his heart pounding uncomfortably, every muscle in his body trembling with pain and exhaustion and tried to plan his next move.
He never got the chance. Just as he was thinking that he might make it, that they might all lose themselves in their drunken stampede, there was a noise beneath him and a voice, cold in the darkness. “You’d better get down from there, pretty boy. I told you what I wanted, and now it’s time you delivered.” Face’s gut clenched in terror and he looked down to see Taz staring up at him, predatory leer stretched across his mouth.
Face knew he had one chance at this, one chance only and then it was all over. Without pause he dropped from the tree, knowing that he was right above his adversary. Taz tried to get out of his way, and swung with his knife, catching Face in the thigh, but the weight of a six foot man dropping on his neck was too much and the both fell to the ground, Face on top, disappointed that his momentum hadn’t broken Taz’s neck.
The struggle was brief but violent, Face felt wrong, exposed, to have to do this naked, but it needed doing and it needed doing fast. Ignoring Taz’s swinging fists and he brought his leg up and around the guy’s neck, bracing himself behind and grabbing his head with both hands. Face took a deep breath, one chance and one chance only, and twisted, almost sagging in relief as he heard the tell tale crack and Taz went limp between his legs.
He allowed himself no time at all to recover, quickly scrambling to his feet and dragging the body into the bushes nearby. As soon as he had the benefit of the sparse cover he set to work, stripping his victim of weapons first and then clothes. Within three minutes, Face was ready. He had a gun, plenty of ammo, a knife, a set of clothes, some decent boots and nine more adversaries to finish off.
Game on.
___________________
When the van arrived at Buf’s ranch with the first of the sun’s rays, it was blatantly obvious that there was no need for stealth on the team’s part; there were plain black sedans and men in suits crawling all over the place. Hannibal drew a number of stares as he jumped out the second the wheels stopped turning, stalking across the driveway, his keen blue eyes already scanning the scene. “Where’s Taylor?” he barked to a passing suit in a voice that was used to being obeyed and the man raised his arm pointing to a knot of CIA huddled in a corner, deep in conversation.
“Taylor!” Hannibal shouted, now flanked by Murdock and BA, and the man looked over, immediately brushing his colleagues off and making his way over to meet Hannibal.
“He’s not here,” he snapped, the disappointment clear in his eyes.
“Face or Yousafzai?” Hannibal’s voice was tight.
“Neither.”
“So where are they then, man?” BA interjected, his eyes cold as he stared at Taylor.
“Colonel...” Murdock’s quiet voice, however, stopped Taylor’s reply in its tracks and all three men turned to where Murdock had pointed, where he was now wandering over to, his steps slow and hesitant.
As his eyes followed, Hannibal just sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes as the truth of what had happened here began to make itself known, bit by bit, but BA swore, loudly. “Oh, man!” he seethed as his dark eyes took in the waterboarding kit, “Not again!”
Clapping him on the shoulder, Hannibal went over to Murdock, who was now trailing his fingers over the wooden board, lingering at the dark blood stains in the wood’s grain. “Come on Captain,” his voice was firm but the pain was there for Murdock to hear.
Murdock didn’t move. “Can he get over this again, Colonel?” and for a minute Hannibal was lost for words.
He took Murdock’s arm, “Come on,” he repeated and led him back to where BA and Taylor waited.
“Hannibal!” BA shouted as soon as they were in hearing distance, “We got a lead!”
Taylor looked excited now, radio in one hand barking instructions into it as his eyes roved over the woods at the side of the property. “Report, Corporal!” Hannibal snapped.
BA turned to them, his face grave. “One of the women livin’ here says that last night they turned Face loose in the woods with a five minute start and then set out to hunt him.” Hannibal’s hands tightened into fists. “Yousafzai and all his men went into the trees, told the women to wait and that they wouldn’t be long.”
“And?” Hannibal prompted.
“Well,” BA looked over his shoulder at the massive expanse of trees, “That was in the early hours. No one has come out since.”
All three men now turned to stare out at the never ending expanse of trees as Taylor still barked instructions into his radio.
“Did Face have any weapons?”
BA shook his head, “Nothin’ man,” the anger was clear in BA’s face, “Not a stitch o’clothes, no shoes, no weapons, rations, nothin’.”
Now it was Murdock’s turn to swear.
“Right,” Hannibal had made his decision and his plan. “We are going in after him, five minutes boys, go and get the things we need from the van while I talk to suit-man here.”
Relieved to have a purpose, all three men turned to their jobs.
Next
