Date: Tue, 26 Jun 2012 04:40:25 -0700
From: Micheal Mikey <michealwitluv@gmail.com>
Subject: The Game He Lost Chapter 15

The End
     "What the hell is going on down there?" Finn yelled. "Goddamn it!
Where the hell is he?"
     "Mr. Locke is in the black sedan with Boko Haram," Ghost said. He made
no mention of Finn's profanity. He was wise enough to know when a man had
been pushed to his limit. "It was disabled by the crash. It can't move."
     "He was supposed to be safe. Minimal risk. Easy walk in and out. How
could this happen?"
     "There will be plenty of time to discuss it at the debriefing," Ghost
said. "I'd prefer to concentrate on the situation at hand."
     Finn slammed a fresh magazine into his gun and turned to the
pilot. "Open the throttle, man. I know a school teacher and his mother who
can go faster than this."
     The pilot ignored him. He needed all his attention in order to keep
the helicopter airborne in the raging storm.
     Rafe closed his hand over Finn's arm. "We'll get there, buddy."
     "Yeah? When? You saw that last press release. Those bastards plan to
kill their hostage and blow up the money. Esposito was right. They had
wanted a public platform. We've got to get there before the media
does. Once Boko Haram has witnesses, they'll follow through with their
plan. And Abe's smack in the middle of it..." He had to stop. One more word
and he knew his voice would break.
     He couldn't lose him.
      But he had been ready to walk away.
     Damn, he had done a lousy job of fooling himself. He wouldn't have to
let Abe go. After the mission, he would have found some way to see Abe
again. He might not put the same labels on what was between them as Abe
did, but whatever it was, he wasn't ready to give it up. He looked at
Rafe. "It can't be too late."
     "It isn't."
     "You warned me. I didn't listen."
     Rafe squeezed firmly and released Finn's arm. "Think about it
later. We are coming up on the Mall."
     Finn grabbed a rope and positioned himself near the helicopter
door. The other men did the same. Three on each side, just like before.
     No, damn it. It wasn't like before. This wasn't simply a
mission. There was no distance here. It wasn't only a hostage rescue. It
was Abe's life.
     Finn focused on the huge granite column that glowed through the rain,
and then scanned the grounds near the Reflecting Pool. The team's chase
vehicles formed a ring on the lawn, their headlights pointing inward. In
the circle of light, Sandra's gray van was lying on its side, its rear side
panels crushed inward. Sandra had radioed from the inside the van that her
condition wasn't critical, but she was pinned down and was unable to
help. Several yards away sat a black sedan. White smoke curled from the
edges of the crumpled hood and was swallowed by the rain.
     The helicopter hovered above the sedan. Finn grasped the rope in his
left hand and his gun in his right. The men didn't waste time with
discussion. This is what they were trained for. They all knew what to do.
     As if materializing from the storm, six black clad commandos slid down
their ropes and descended on the car. Finn landed beside the driver's
door. With split-second reflexes that had been honed by years of daily
practice, he sighted his target through the car window and squeezed off two
shots. Double tap. Disable and kill. Glass shattered as his teammates did
the same.
     It was over in a heartbeat. As he had told Ibru, the Nighthawks didn't
give any warnings.
     And they never missed. There was no movement inside the vehicle. No
sound. Nothing.
     The helicopter floodlight switched on. Finn dropped his gun and
wrenched open the rear door of the car. Abe was curled in the middle of the
back seat, his head down, his arms wrapped around his legs. He had sat like
that before when he was upset. But this time he wasn't on a crate or a
cot. He was spattered with blood and wedged between two dead men.
     The cry that came from Finn's throat was as savage as the thunder that
crashed around him. He flung the first body out of the car and reached to
pull Abe into his arms.
     Abe struggled, lashing out at him with his elbow, refusing to uncurl
from his crouch.
    The blood wasn't his, Finn realized as he ran his hands over Abe. Thank
God. He could breathe again. "Abe, you are safe," he said. "Abe, it's
okay. Let go."
     Abe lifted his head. Shards of glass winked from his head. His eyes
were wild. "Finn?"
    Finn tore his helmet and his balaclava. "It's over, sweetie. You are
okay."
     Abe focused suddenly. "Finn! You are here. What..." Abe whimpered as
he watched Rafe and Jack remove the other bodies from the car. "It's over?"
     "Yes. Come out of there, Abe."
     "Where is the hostage?" Ghost called, running toward them.
     "I'll check the trunk," Rafe said.
     Abe shook his head and straightened up.
     A small black haired boy was huddled on the car floor between Abe's
knees. He was unscathed. No blood, no glass. Abe had been sheltering him
with his own body.
     Matthew Ibru looked thinner than he had in his photograph. His hair
looked greasy, a bruise darkened the skin on his cheek and the gaze he
turned toward Finn was too old for his years. It was the gaze of a child
who had seen what no child should, a boy who had discovered too soon that
the world was full of cruelty and sorrow and death.
     Finn knew that look. He had seen it in the mirror.
     Abe turned Matthew's face to his chest, put his arms around him and
rocked him in an age-old rhythm of healing. His faith in the power of love
shone from his soul.
     Finn knew that look, too.
     He had seen it in his dreams.  ~~~~~~~~~~
     Commander Anson – Ghost – drove with the same methodical
competence with which he commanded his men. He didn't speed, yet he didn't
hesitate. With Rafe riding shotgun in the passenger seat and a helicopter
full of armed soldiers providing cover overhead, he steered the armored
Tahoe through the rain-slick streets on the most direct route to the
Nigerian Embassy.
     From the back seat Abe watched the buildings slide past with a sense
of inevitability. "Only a few more minutes," he said, stroking Matthew's
hair. He adjusted the gray blanket they had wrapped him in. "We are almost
there."
     The boy burrowed his head into Abe's shoulder. He hadn't said a word
since Finn had carried him from the gore-spattered car.
     Abe looked at Finn. He was sitting on the other side of Mathew. He
hadn't left them for an instant. While the rest of the men had cleared away
the bodies, the wrecked vehicles and the shell casings, working quickly to
remove any trace of their "training op" from the grounds near the monument,
Finn had remained with him and the child.
     If Abe had had the chance to think, he would probably have fallen
apart. But there hadn't been time. The nightmare of terror and bullets had
blended into a fast-forward blur as Finn had removed his blood soaked
jacket and had wrapped him in a blanket like Matthew's. His hands had been
gentle as a whisper as he cleaned the blood from his skin and removed the
glass from his hair. His voice had pulled Abe back again and again from the
brink of collapse. The tenderness in his gaze was his anchor to reality.
     "How's your wrist feeling now?" Finn asked softly.
     Abe glanced at the elastic bandage Jack had wrapped from his knuckles
to his forearm. He was lucky the ground, where he had landed had been
softened by the rain where he had landed. The joint was sprained, not
broken. "It's fine."
     Sandra hadn't been so fortunate. Although the bullet that hit her had
been stopped by the vest, the force of the high caliber round had
dislocated his shoulder.
     The surviving Boko Haram terrorists who had been swept up in the
team's raid had been handed over to the regular army. They would be held
incommunicado until President Jonathan and the diplomats decided their
fate. The documents the team had recovered from the Boko Haram base would
he analyzed by Intelligence before being turned over to the Nigerians.
     The terrorist's sympathizers within the embassy who had facilitated
the kidnapping by giving the Boko Haram details of the Ibru family's
schedule had turned out to be one of the embassy's chauffeurs. In his case,
justice would be swift – he had had the misfortune of being on Nigerian
soil when the Army had caught up with him minutes ago.
     Against all the odds, the Nighthawks' mission was a complete
success. Only one final detail remained. They had to return Matthew Ibru to
his family.
     Abe laid his cheek against the top of Matthew's head. Jack had
examined the boy before they left the Mall and had determined he had no
physical injuries that needed immediate medical attention, so there was no
reason to delay his return. No physical injuries. What about the emotional
scars? Was there any medical treatment for those?
     Ghost slowed the SUV. Wrought-iron gates decorated with the crest of
an eagle seating on a shield, flanked by horses appeared through the
rain. Guards with rifles slung over their rain ponchos surrounded the
vehicle and jogged alongside as they drove into the cobblestone
courtyard. They passed the embassy's main entrance and came to a stop
beside a door in the side of the building.
     "Look, Matthew," Abe said. "You are home."
     The child shivered and refused to look up.
     Abe rubbed his back. "It's okay. No one's going to hurt you again."
     Finn touched his hand as he gathered the child into his arms. "You'll
be fine, Matthew," he murmured. "Come on, we are going to take a little
walk."
     Rafe exited the Tahoe fist and positioned himself beside the front
fender, his gun held ready as he scanned the area. The Army formed into two
lines to flank the path from the vehicle to the embassy. Abe swung open his
door and got out while Finn slid across the seat with Matthew. With Ghost
leading the way, Finn hunched his shoulders to protect the child from the
rain and strode forward.
     Before he had gone three steps, the embassy door crashed open. Nneka
ran toward them, her arms outstretched. "Matthew!"
     Anselm was right behind her. When he caught sight of his son, he
forgot his dignity and his diplomacy training, and whooped.
     Finn was engulfed in the Ibru' embrace. Abe knew the image would stay
with him forever. Less than an hour ago this tall, black clad warrior had
swooped down from the sky with his gun blazing to rescue him from certain
death. Now he stood in the rain with a child in his arms and grinned.
     Finn grinned. Oh, God. How was it possible to love him more?
     At the sound of his parents' voices, Matthew's face crumbled. He
launched himself into his father's arms and started to wail. He was still
crying when they reached the ambassador's quarters, but the sobs were
punctuated by words. English mixed with Nigerian as the horror he had
endured finally came pouring out.
     The formal sitting room, with its chairs upholstered in Nigerian
green, and its dark wood carvings rang with the sound of emotions that
needed no translation. Matthew might be a relative of the Nigerian
President, the pawn in a terrorist plot, the focus of a secret mission and
an international crisis... but at the moment he was merely a little boy.
     Abe used the corner of his blanket to dry his eyes. He stood by the
door with Finn and the commander, unwilling to intrude on the family
reunion but somehow unable to move away.
     Finn slipped his arm around his shoulder. "Matthew's going to heal."
     "God, I hope so."
     "We have got specialists who are trained to deal with this kind of
trauma," Ghost said. "One of the top child psychologists in the country is
on her way here."
     "I'm glad." He looked at Matthew's ragged hair. "He's been through so
much."
     "He's already getting the best therapy there is," Finn said, nodding
toward the family group. A sleep-rumpled Samson had just joined them and
was holding on tightly to his big brother's hand. "His family loves
him. That will get him through anything."
     He turned his gaze to Finn. He understood how seeing the Ibrus'
emotion must stir painful memories of his own childhood. The pain was still
there – he could see it in the lines around his mouth. Was it his
imagination, or did something other than pain gleam in Finn's eyes?
     Nneka approached them, her smile radiant, as if she didn't notice the
men were still wearing their assault gear and Abe was cloaked in a
blanket. "How can I thank you enough for what you did, Abe?" she
asked. "You saved my Matt's life."
     "The team saved him, Nneka," Abe said. "I was never really alone."
     "Yes, they are all brave men. And you are a brave man, too." She
kissed Abe on both cheeks. "I will be forever in your debt, Abraham
Locke. If we were not constrained by the need for secrecy, we would honor
you and the team publicly in the manner you deserve."
     "Seeing Matthew reunited with the people who love him is all the
reward I need," Abe said.
     Nneka stretched to kiss Finn and then the commander. "My uncle sends
his regards. He also is in your debt."
     Ghost's face softened in a rare smile. "I'm sure our President will
think of some way your uncle can repay us once the treaty between our
countries is ratified."
     Nneka laughed. "Yes, I am certain he will."
     "But we'll leave that to the diplomats." Ghost said. He dipped his
head in a formal bow. "The Army will see to your safety now. On behalf of
our government, I wish you and your family well, Mrs. Ibru."
     And just like that it was over. The mission. Abe's reason for being
here. Everything.
     Finn took Abe's arm. "It's time to go home, Abe."

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