The Story So Far...
Assembling The Team
Kandahar, Afghanistan - Undisclosed Location - Sometime in 2010
Desert sun beat down on ruined wood flooring. Rays cutting through shattered windows. Dust hanging thick in the air. It was late afternoon by the angle of the rays and the length of the shadows of the overturned furniture in the room. Sundown was not for another three hours, but the heat of the giant light still was unrelenting even within the shade of the damaged but structurally sound building.
Outside the windows wasn’t much of anything. Buildings outside were no more than blurry masses. The street below, deserted. Even the hum of wind seemed to not exist.
A board creaked. In the silence it might as well have been an explosion. Not a thunk of thermal expansion in the heat of the desert, protest against a firm weight being placed against it. Another followed. A third. A fourth, a fifth. Deliberate. An animal perhaps? Too heavy. Someone. Not something. Quiet Steady breathing soon joined the audio mix. In and out, calm like it was a Saturday afternoon.
A boot stepped across the threshold where a door used to stand. A Garmont T8. The other one stepped around the ruined door that lay flat on the floor. Bodied by a breaching charge long ago. They were accompanied by fabric tucked into them. Muted, sandy reddish brown colored, with splotches of darker color all over. They were laced to a standard, so much so that they bowed inward around the ankles.
Judging from the size of the shoe it was a man. The plate carrier on his chest was a grid of Velcro and buckles. The pouches secured so that nothing made a sound when he breathed. His belt sat low, a holster with a SIG P226 nestled in it securely on his right hip. In his arms, a rifle. AR Pattern HK416. Held at low ready tight against this shoulder. One hand on the pistol grip, finger resting on the side of the mag well, the other firmly wrapped on the front vertical grip. The ACOG scope unshakably secured to the picatinny sight rail.
The room seemed to shrink. The sheer scale of him didn’t match the precision with which he placed his steps. Dust seemed to part out of his way. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, the uniform barely contained the monstrous strength and definition he carried underneath it. The fabric fit him comfortably regardless. His arms coiled and ready for action.
Then the light hit him. Slightly tanned from the high UV, but still pale, light jade green eyes. Only a slight bit of five o’clock shadow lined his flawless jawline. Freckles dusted across his cheekbones and nose. Dark red hair, almost brown. A low brow.
The unmistakable features of Heinrich Bergmann. The patch hidden by his plate carrier noted him with his rank. Lieutenant Commander. United States Navy.
The orders were clear enough. They said to come here, and look for something. The details didn’t seem clear, but his job was to execute not contemplate. Contemplating got people killed. Of course–.
A crisp digital ringtone rang out. The rifle snapped to the ready. Finger on the trigger. Henry whirled around to face the door. Nothing. The sound repeated. Three rapid fire bursts of digital sound that echoed into nothing.
It wasn’t coming from up above, below or anywhere else. The sound seemed to be everywhere. Another burst hit the same perfect pitch as if someone were tapping a metal fork against glass. Anyone who had ever owned the most popular smartphone would have recognized it instantly.
Silence as it echoed away again. Something outside flickered. Motion. Henry pressed himself against the wall beside one of the windows. Nothing. Another glance back to the room. That wasn’t right. The ruined furniture and the room’s destruction had been easier to see earlier. Now it was darker. He checked his watch. 18:46. Sundown was still several hours away. It shouldn’t even be starting to get close to night. It should have–.
Fairbanks, Alaska - Henry’s Apartment - November 27th 2025 - 0330 hours
Henry’s eyes snapped open to a dark indigo shaded white ceiling and a darkened light fixture. To the left was a window with outside light reflecting off the snow spilling in through the gap between the window blinds and the sill. The device on the nightstand was going absolutely nuts. Calling out with the metallic glass like pinging and buzzing against the wood like a mad hornet. There was no haze of sleep. He was an operator, a door slamming on the other side of Fairbanks would have spurred him awake. Hell Week had ingrained that tactical awareness to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. But, a rude awakening like this, there was no way he’d be ready for anything. His arm shot out, flailing wildly.
A box of tissues, a bottle of melatonin capsules, a couple of empty sparkling water cans, a Brietling diving watch and the device itself were sent tumbling to the floor in the darkness, accompanied by a flurry of half whispered expletives. The device landed face up, the screen’s glow removing any hope of seeing in the dark again. It took another ten seconds to finally reach the phone. Henry pulled the charger from the port on the device, and let it join the other items on the floor before rolling onto his back. The screen had a name and thing to slide to hang up or pick up. Mountains. Henry breathed a dejected sigh.
“What?”
A voice nearly identical to his, but calmer, colder and slightly deeper came over the other end. “Good, you’re awake. There’s something you and I need to discuss.”
Henry sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand down his face. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“It’s six thirty in the morning.”
“Did you forget I live in Alaska? Do you understand the concept of a time zone? It is three o’clock in the fucking morning. What the actual fuck is your problem!?"
“You don’t sound too happy about this.”
“Clearly…” Joints popped and muscle flexed as he stood up, and stepped over to the window. Henry reached up and yanked a cord by the side of the frame down. The blinds snapped upward and locked in place, and the room now filled with snow reflected city light. “What’s so goddamn important that you had to ruin my beauty sleep?”
“You have a link to a forum in your inbox. Specifically, it’s a trip across Europe. The post on the forum states its cars for around five grand, in varying condition to be driven across Europe. Read it when you can.”
Henry blinked. “So, this is what? My formal invite?”
“I have an empty seat in the car.” Neil said. “Are you in or out?”
That was abrupt. In fact, dumbfounding. “Really? You’re gonna make me make a decision now?”
“That’s correct.”
Seriously? Now!? The man on the other end was someone he should have been close to. No matter that this man thought they were close enough to phone him at thirty past three in the morning. The last forty three years were spent not knowing the man even existed. Not even knowing that there was also a half brother in the picture as well. Forty three years of age, and fate now decides to blow up everything he’s ever known? After all of what he did, the Navy, Annapolis, the degree in mechanical engineering, the tours in the middle east. He should have been angry, sad even. Confronted his parents, asked them why they kept that from him, kept that knowledge away from him. Hell, he knew now only one of which he knew shared his blood. The man who had raised him. His father was his uncle? But, none of that happened; there was no confrontation. There was also no anger or dejection. Only quiet acceptance seemed to hang around. Was it the training? Was it the countless times he stared death in the face, and didn’t care that it stared back that made him do this? Maybe. Screw it, people played the hand they were dealt regardless of how shit it was, and what good did dwelling on it-.
“Hello?”
The interruption snapped him back to the window. The snow, and the voice on the phone. Time had passed. But… There was still time. He’d been robbed of a bond he didn’t know he had. Fuck that shit.
“Yeah, still here.”
“I’ll ask again. Are you in, or are you out?”
Execute, not contemplate.
“I’m in.”
Milwaukee, Wisconsin - Neil’s Apartment - November 27th 2025 - 0635 hours
Kate was in the ensuite bathroom tying her brunette hair off into her signature high ponytail. She took up the small space like a mountain. Six two. Hundred sixty pounds. The sleeve of fragmented black ink triangles tattooed down her left arm shifted with the ripple of strength in her arms and upper back as her hands worked. The room was minimalist, more than she would have liked. But, this was not her apartment. “So what did he say?” She asked, over her shoulder.
Neil, sat shirtless on the bed, hung up the phone and set it on the metal filing cabinet that doubled as a nightstand beside where he sat on the simple Ikea bed. “He’s joining us.”
The hum of Milwaukee outside filled the room. A car passed by on the street below. Still dark out. Minus two in Celsius. There was something about the whole thing that felt forced. Guilt about waking someone up. Waking them up and then dumping a decision on their head. On the head of a person who he hardly knew. Why did that feel so… wrong?
“What did Miles say?” Kate stepped out of the ensuite and clicked the light off. Athletic leggings and her classic racerback top.
“I haven’t called him yet. Something tells me he wouldn’t appreciate me calling him right now.”
Her weight settled beside him. “And yet you called Henry.”
“I’m almost feeling regret about that.” Neil’s gaze was somewhere beyond the glass. His expression betrayed almost nothing.
If it had been noticed, Kate mentioned nothing. “You, feeling regret? That’s new.”
Neil shrugged. “You learn something new about me every day.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
He stood and took a black turtleneck sweater from the closet and pulled it over his head, tucking it into his Levis. “You should put something warmer on. We’re going to the homestead so we can take the Nevada mirror. Car’s in storage at Hans’ hangar.”
“What did you get us again?”
“Makuda Trailseeker. Four by four. One with the V8. Kas said the car was in practically dealership new condition. I want to see it for myself.” Neil departed the bedroom into the main space of the apartment. There were very few decorations or plants, maybe one or two potted plants. A refectory table with a simple tray home to a laptop and a TV remote. The sofa was minimalist, the TV a gigantic 70" unit.
“Dealership new…” Kate began. “Isn’t that against the whole idea of the challenge?”
Neil took a pair of coffee cups from the cupboard next to the fridge. “It’s been sitting for the last nineteen years. We can replace the fluids and service it, but I think it still fits. It’s definitely going to have some issues from sitting that long. Tires are definitely old.”
One Keurig machine compatible coffee pod went in the top, the lid clicked shut, and a click of a button set the machine to make weird liquid sounds and put something in the cup under the nozzle. A second pod waited for its turn.
Kate sat down in one of the bar stools. It took no effort. “What’s the route? Did it say in the forum post?”
“Faro, Portugal to Oulu, Finland. The plan is to get the car and us to Lisbon on the 8th of December, drive down to Faro, and be there for the drivers meeting on the 10th, possibly the 11th.” The machine chirped that it was finished. Neil passed the first cup to Kate, then popped the second pod into the machine. “We can use the jet.”
“And the car?”
“Air freight. VDH has a plane leaving Chicago on the 6th, it’ll be waiting for us at the airport.”
Keurig announced Neil’s cup was done.
“So why so early?” Kate asked.
“You mean getting there two days before it starts?”
A nod came as her reply.
“I’m not risking showing up late to the driver’s meeting, or being denied entry.” Neil brought the cup to his mouth and took a sip as he leaned against the counter.
A silent weight settled in the room. Two HK handguns graced the countertop with their presence. Both unloaded. One was a USP compact, the other a full size USP 45.
“Are you sure we want to be armed over there?” Kate asked.
“Both of us are allowed to carry, we have the licenses and paperwork for that. We’re technically private security, remember? Since we work for DFN? Listen, if you don’t want to, I’m not going to get in your way. But, at least one of us is going to be armed in case something goes sideways.” Neil explained.
“What about–”
“Miles is a federal agent, so he can. The caveat is that if it’s unofficial I don’t see him bringing anything. Something about not causing an international incident.”
Kate took a sip from her cup. “I meant Henry.”
“I’m fairly certain he’ll always be playing by the rules. And I don’t blame him. Considering who he is, not me or anyone else could convince him to bring a firearm anywhere if he even thinks it’s illegal. He won’t risk it, and I won’t either. He’s a civilian, and there is no chance an exception could be made for him, either. Then again, I really don’t think he needs a firearm anyway, since, considering, he’s y’know, Navy SEAL.” Neil pushed away from the counter, and started toward the bedroom to retrieve his phone. “Now, let’s see if Miles is awake."
The way a broad frame like that moved with purpose. The efficiency in the movements, and the resolve in every step. Even unconsciously, like in this scenario told everybody ‘stay out of my way.’ Kate knew what he looked like even with his back turned. An emotionless, unsmiling glare, eyes constantly scanning, head on an intermittent swivel, moving the way he did. People never knew what to make of the situation. Kate stood from the chair and settled on the couch.
Short while later, she heard him talking on the phone.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin - FBI Field Office - November 27th 2025 - 0636 hours
“What?!” Miles blurted out loud in the middle of the office. It caused an SSA and several others to glance up from their desks. He rose, standing well over the tops of the towering cubicle walls. Miles’ eyes met with those of his supervisor in the office. Who pointed with a pen. His gaze followed it to his destination. An administrator and an archivist literally felt the slipstream as he stormed past, down the hallway where the bathrooms were gesturing to his phone and dropping his voice volume.
“You want me to do what?!”
“I’m asking you if you want to go to Europe for a couple of weeks.” Neil explained, calmly.
“Who the hell do you think I work for? I can’t jet away to Europe for two weeks just like that. I have to get the goddamn approval to be allowed to use any of my vacation days and considering the short notice you’ve given me, even if I wanted to, the ASAC wouldn’t let me!”
“You do realize who you also work for, right? Also, Miles, I literally told you this at the end of October, and you chose to ignore me. I gave you all the notice and you decided to wait until almost the last minute.”
“Yes, of course, let’s get Warda…” Miles deliberately mumbled the word. Something something matter of national security. “To strong arm the people in Washington to let me go because that’s a good idea.”
Neil audibly sighed. “Then I don’t know how to help you, it’s your fault you didn’t plan this properly.”
“Maybe if you and I spoke more than once a month…”
“Call the ASAC and if he doesn’t budge, call Warda. Actually, call both. Warda could cook up an excuse as to why she needs you. Also, it’s Milwaukee, I strongly doubt that they need you immediately.”
“What if they want to assign me a case?” Miles asked.
“When’s the last time they assigned you one and how long did it take you.”
“December last year. Took until May of this year.”
“Exactly.”
“So, when are we going?”
“December the 8th.”
“Decemb–” A cascade of expletives almost breached the filter. “You’re fucking impossible.”
Miles jabbed the hang up button with a middle finger and looked at the device like it had just insulted him.
This family had a way of driving him up the wall. Hidden half brother in Alaska, actual half brother he knew disappeared for twenty years. No. Why was he acting like this was a surprise? He should have expected something like this from Neil. Leave it to him to drop some major bombshell out of the blue and throw everyone out of alignment. But this was the most normal non secret agent man shit type idea Neil had ever had, so maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.