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  SHEEPDOG

  A Gideon Shepherd Thriller

  Orlando A. Sanchez

  description

  You can never outrun your past.

  Gideon Shepherd, an asset for the shadow organization HALO, is haunted by the ghosts of his past. When his once friend, Victor Gregory—leader of the terrorist group, Black Wolf resurfaces and threatens New York City, Gideon knows what must be done.

  Now, with countless lives at stake, Gideon and his team must prevent a catastrophic attack with a next generation weapon.

  A weapon he helped perfect.

  A weapon Victor is preparing to use.

  Facing betrayal, a ruthless enemy, and organizations looking to wipe the slate clean, Gideon and his team will risk it all—to save a city from destruction.

  PROLOGUE

  Istanbul, Turkey

  FIVE YEARS AGO

  “Target neutralized?” I asked as the last of the aftershocks trembled through our temporary base. “Can you see the target?”

  “The target, the building, and the entire damn block,” Bella answered. “Positive ID confirmed…at least on the top half of the target. Those seismic bombs hit like a truck.”

  “I’d say that experiment worked. Did HALO get their data?”

  “Data was transferred with confirmation of receipt,” Cans said. “These seismic charges are scary shit.”

  “Earthquakers are designed to simulate a natural event,” Monk answered in his measured tone over the com. “In this instance, it triggered the real thing.”

  “Leveling the entire block seems like overkill,” I answered. “If they ever figure out how to calibrate those things…”

  “Then it can be used as a devastating weapon,” Monk answered. “Imagine a targeted earthquake.”

  “I’d prefer not to, thanks. We did what was asked—live field test of this thing and target erased.”

  “Two birds, one earthquake,” Bella said. “Can we go home now?”

  Another explosion rocked the compound.

  “What was that?” I asked. “Effect of the weapon?”

  “Negative,” Bella said. “This was conventional. They’re getting agitated over there.”

  “I’m getting chatter,” Cans said over the com. “Shit, we have incoming.”

  I turned to Anvil, my second-in-command, who was monitoring the situation.

  “Bring me up to speed.”

  “We’ve been compromised,” Anvil answered, pointing to the approaching men on the cameras. “Someone gave them our location. We were clean.”

  “Probably didn’t appreciate how we treated our hosts,” I said, looking around. “It’s getting hot. We did what we needed to do. HALO will be satisfied. We need to get scarce. Bella, sitrep?”

  Anvil followed my gaze. She stared expressionless at the several corpses that surrounded us, her dark eyes assessing the situation. An ambush someone thought was a good idea. Turned out it wasn’t—for them.

  “We are currently cruising at mildly fucked and approaching FUBAR velocity,” Bella added over the coms. “That bad.”

  “Your assessment, while colorful,” I said, “isn’t helping.”

  “That’s me,” Bella said. “I’m a regular rainbow of information.”

  “Anvil?” I looked at her, tapping my wrist. “Can I have an actual sitrep?”

  “Compromised, Shep. Either someone betrayed us, or we’ve outlived our usefulness. Either way the outcome is the same—we’re expendable.”

  “Losses?”

  “We have two on recon down,” she said. “Secondary site: we have Bella, Monk, TwoCans, and Intern in position. Everyone else is dark.”

  “Shit,” I said, looking down at the map, and then up at the screens. “Where are they now?”

  “They have our location and are rapidly moving to outflank us. If they reach here”—she pointed to a location on the map—“before we do, we will be out of options.”

  “We always have options,” Monk said quietly. “As long as we have C4, there are options.”

  “Non-explosive options,” Anvil corrected, pointing to another location. “That’s our egress.”

  I looked down at the map again. We had been in tight spots before, but this one was close to strangulation.

  “Who do we like for this?” I asked. “Like you said—we were clean.”

  “This has all the signs of Black Wolf,” Anvil answered. “Down to the targeting of non-coms. Only he could move this fast, unless HALO betrayed us.”

  “Or both,” Bella added. “HALO isn’t exactly a fan.”

  “Adams knows I would eviscerate him if that was the case,” I said. “This feels like Victor.”

  “Money is a great motivator,” Anvil said. “Let’s keep every option open…for now.”

  “Fuck,” Bella said. “That bastard, Victor, is probably behind this.”

  “That hasn’t been confirmed,” I answered. “For all we know—”

  “Who else blows up women and children?” Bella asked. “He’s a sick fucker.”

  “Bella, find some higher ground and setup a position.”

  “Roger that. I can get their attention for a short time.”

  “How long?” I asked. “We need them busy and distracted.”

  “About thirty rounds long. Less, if I see rats.”

  “Long enough,” I said. “Cans, any word on support?”

  “Bad news is we’re being jammed—no coms,” TwoCans said. “Good news is…no coms for them either.”

  “Got it. We’re on our own, but so are they. We can make that work.”

  “I can add some signal jamming,” Cans said. “Make their life a little harder.”

  “Make it as hard as possible.”

  “That’s what she said,” Bella interrupted with a chuckle. “Sorry, boss.”

  “Monk,” I said, ignoring Bella, “can you make this a one-way trip for them? Take out their main routes of approach?”

  “Of course. Do we need a new way out too? That…would require finesse.”

  “An alternate way out would be helpful,” I said. “Can you do it?”

  “It will take some creative positioning, but I can cut us a path—tight, but serviceable.”

  “Do it. Anvil and I will bring them in. Afterwards, we leave your route as misdirection and take the underground passages.”

  “You round them up, I’ll knock them down,” Bella said. “Hell, yes.”

  “We have one shot,” I said. “They get around us—it’s over.”

  “Typical day at the office,” Bella replied. “That blast has them mobilized.”

  “We regroup at Echo. You have a thirty minute window. After that exfil is on you.”

  “Roger that,” they answered in unison.

  “Coms on dark frequency,” I said, adjusting my earpiece with a touch. “What are you?”

  “We are the smith that bloweth the coals in the fire.”

  “We are instruments of destruction,” Bella finished. “Hell, yes.”

  “Fifty-four sixteen.”

  Another chorus of “Copy—fifty-four sixteen.” Then silence.

  Dark frequency—an invention of Quemi—our lead tech, allowed our coms to work on modified ELF wavelengths, which made them almost impossible to detect by conventional methods.

  “You can walk away,” I said, looking at Anvil. “This has all gone to shit.”

  “And go where?” she asked. “On a rampage?”

  I smiled and shook my head. Typical Anvil.

  “I should’ve put a bullet in Victor when I had the opportunity.”

  “Yes—you should have,” she answered with an edge. “I’m here to make sure you don’t miss the next opportunity.”

  “I’m serious, Lily, you’re clean, probably t
he only one who isn’t burned. No one would know.”

  “I would know,” she answered, narrowing her almond-shaped eyes at me in a glare. “It’s enough that I would know. My family’s lineage is samurai, Shepherd. Samurai do not run.”

  There was no point in arguing. Once her mind was made up, it would be easier to shift the Earth out of its orbit than get her to change position.

  “Can we reach the border?” I asked, reviewing the map again.

  “Not without air support.”

  “Underground it is. Orhan still willing to provide backup?”

  “Far as I know, he’s solid.”

  “Let’s get out of this hellhole and reintroduce some people to the concept of loyalty,” I said. “I don’t want to be in this position again.”

  “Now that sounds like an op I can get behind.”

  “This is going to take time. It’s going to be a long game.”

  “I’m patient.”

  ONE

  NEW YORK CITY—PRESENT DAY

  “Behold, I have created the smith that bloweth the coals in the fire, and that bringeth forth an instrument for his work; and I have created the waster to destroy. -Isaiah 54:16 KJV

  “We have…a situation,” the suit said. “One that requires your particular…expertise.”

  This was code for someone who went left when they should’ve gone right, and the fan was not only impacted, but covered in fecal matter. I figured the suit worked for one of the three letter agencies in Alphabet City. His clothes, attitude, and demeanor practically screamed ‘Washington’. After closer examination, it became clear: he was working with HALO. They called us when an op required D&D—discretion and deniability.

  Heavy Asset Logistical Operations—HALO, was a group that handled the operations no one wanted to admit existed. My team had worked with HALO before, but after our last overseas op we had parted ways. Until today.

  We sat in an abandoned building near the train yards in Long Island City. Those were rare in this day and age when developers were buying up every piece of vacant property and turning them into luxury apartments.

  “Foreign or domestic?” I asked. “We’d like to avoid—”

  “Domestic.”

  I looked around at my team—we had barely made it out of Turkey intact. They were the worst of the best. Misfits, who belonged nowhere. Perfect for what we did. Perfect for the RHINOS.

  “Who and where?” I asked. “HALO has other assets for domestic. Why us?”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger,” the suit said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m just your point man on this.”

  “You may as well break it down for us, then.”

  Domestic required more tact. We had to worry about optics, which meant more planning and extensive logistics. The suit looked around the table at my team and cleared his throat with a short cough.

  “HALO hasn’t cleared them for this level of intel,” he started with the BS spiel. “They—”

  “Are the ones saving your ass, Mr.—?”

  “Bullock, Randall Bullock.”

  “Bollocks?” Bella muttered from the other side of the table. “Randy Bollocks? You have to be shitting me—we’re on our own.”

  The rest of the team broke out in small chuckles.

  “Cleared or not, they need to know,” I said, maintaining my composure. “You can tell them now, or I’ll tell them later. Why don’t we save time—who and where?”

  “Bollocks is so new, he probably still has a sticker on him somewhere,” Bella said. “You’re going to need to edumacate him, boss.”

  “New York City.” Bullock replied, his voice grim. “Victor and Black Wolf.”

  “Shit,” Anvil said next to me. The rest of the team remained silent, that one word encapsulating their feelings about this op.

  “Are you certain?” I asked. “Black Wolf has been dormant for years, and New York is a hard target.”

  Mr. Bullock reached into a case and slid over a folder.

  “It’s all there. The sources are solid,” Bullock answered. “Victor ‘Vicious’ Gregory has been active in several key locations overseas. I understand you have some history with him?”

  “History?” I asked. “Who told you that?”

  “My apologies, I was under the impression you ran into him some years ago—Istanbul?”

  Of course he knew we ran into him some years ago. The last time I dealt with Victor and Black Wolf, I nearly lost my team, and missed a chance to put Victor down—for good.

  “We have unfinished business,” I said, thinking about the experimental weapon clusterfuck we barely escaped in Istanbul. “We’ve dealt with him in the past, but we don’t operate on domestic—too many limiting parameters. Why not use CITADEL? They’re designed for this sort of thing.”

  “We prefer to keep this operation dark,” Bullock said. “CITADEL is too high-profile for this.”

  Standard HALO move—operate in the shadows until it’s too bright to hide, then point at a scapegoat. Today, that was us.

  “Meaning, they don’t want them to get their hands dirty if it all goes south,” Bella answered. “Us, on the other hand—they already think we’re as dirty as they come.”

  Anvil took the folder. She thumbed through the first pages, closing it moments later with a short grunt.

  “I’ll run this by our people just to make sure,” she said, holding up the folder. “Just to confirm.”

  “Tell me why you’re here, Mr. Bullock,” I said, turning to him. “We went dark with HALO after Turkey, just like they wanted, and now you’re here dangling Black Wolf in front of us. Why?”

  “What do you mean?”

  It was this question that let me know how quickly we would be cast to the wind. I had no illusions about our role in the greater scheme of things. Neither did my team. I just wished, for once, they would be honest and come out and say it: ‘We intend to fuck you over at our earliest opportunity—hope you don’t mind.’

  “Let’s not play games. If you’re here, meeting us, the ‘situation’ is barely salvageable,” I said. “HALO doesn’t reach out to us when things are easy. We are the ‘Dante’s Inferno’ type of solution. You only call us when all hope is lost.”

  “We both know the path to paradise begins in hell,” Bullock answered, surprising me with the reference. “We looked at other…options before deciding on your”—he looked around—“before choosing your team.”

  “I’m sure you did,” Bella said with a smile. “They always do.”

  “Does this sound about right?” I asked. “Everyone else told you it wasn’t viable. Cut your losses and spin the rest, Gregory is too dangerous to engage.”

  His expression let me know I was right.

  He nodded. “Yes. No one wants to touch this…too high risk for little reward…too dangerous. It’s toxic.”

  Typical HALO response. “Except, if Black Wolf is involved, people are going to die,” I said. “Black Wolf doesn’t bluff. If Victor is making threats, he intends to deliver on them.”

  “Yes,” Bullock answered after a few seconds, “thousands, maybe more if they aren’t stopped. Our response time is too slow.”

  “It’s never been fast,” I said. “No offense. By the time your task force gets moving, you’d have checked ten times to make sure you had permission to ask for clearance to have the permission to ask for the authorization to do what you’re supposed to do.”

  “Typical bureaucrats,” Bella said, glaring. “It’s a wonder you find your own asses without clearance. All talk—no action.”

  “Bella, I’m sure Mr. Bullock—” I started.

  “When they finally do get their asses moving, it’s too little too late.”

  “That’s why we exist,” I said. “We take action when they can’t or won’t.”

  “You can get boots on the ground and intervene in a fraction of the time we can,” Bullock said. “I’m not denying that.”

  “It also helps that we don’t exist,” I said.
“We’re ghosts.”

  “There…is that,” Bullock admitted, reluctantly. “Losses on your team don’t bring us unnecessary attention.”

  “Meaning, we’re expendable.”

  “In a word: yes.” Bullock said, with a sigh. “You provide us with the plausible deniability. CITADEL does not.”

  At least he was being honest. There was a first time for everything.

  “I have a few words for you, fucker,” Bella said with a growl, drawing a blade. “I’m going to show you what’s expendable—with my knife.”

  “Bella,” Anvil said in her crisp voice. “Ice that noise. We know the job. We know what needs to be done and we do it.”

  “And then some,” Bella answered, her voice thick with anger as she sheathed her blade. “But none of us are expendable. No matter what this asshole says.”

  “Noted and filed for future reference,” Anvil answered. “Now, calm down.”

  Bella sat back and crossed her massive arms. Considering she was probably strong enough to grab me by the ankles and hammer throw me across the East River, I let Anvil deal with her outbursts. The last time I intervened, things got ugly and, I almost shot her—just to get her to calm down.

  “You need to check your team, Shepherd,” Bullock said, looking to shorten his life expectancy. “We didn’t ask them to join this group you call a team—they volunteered.”

  “I’m volunteering my team off this op,” I said. “Tell Adams we’ll stay retired from HALO.”

  “He said you’d say that,” Bullock answered. “He also asked that I remind you that HALO saved you and your team in Istanbul. He’s calling in the favor.”

  “Fuck,” I said. Adams was solid, but it didn’t mean I trusted HALO. “Calling in a favor? It was HALO that nearly got us mangled out there. We were testing their tech. Answer is still no.”

  Bella bristled as she glared at him. Her hand drifted back to her sheath.

  “He said you’d say that too,” Bullock replied. “He asked that I remind you about Greenland.”

  “Oh, low blow,” Bella said under her breath. “He’s playing dirty.”