Anyone up for a sneak peek of my newest project?
Shhh! It’s raw and unedited and subject to a billion changes between now and publication – whenever that may be – but dig on in to this goodness!
I was gearing up. Seated on a long bench, my legs splayed open, body bent, I was lacing up my left boot when I heard snickers from the peanut gallery across the room. I glanced up, eyebrow raised sardonically.
“Something you want to share with the class, Grover?” My voice was a mild draw, pleasant – like a grandmother asking her son if he wanted tea on this here fine summer day.
Larry Grover was a steroid-taking-boy-club-loving-cock-jock. His penis was the size of my pinkie but because god had gifted him with that appendage he felt it had added ten extra inches of height, weight and importance to his carriage.
Spoiler. It hadn’t. His burning need to lord himself over me was getting old. He was on a one way ticket back home, cause god knew only the strong hacked it over here. Those with an ego broke quickly.
“No, Ma’am.” His tone was disrespectful but I let it slide. I dropped by head returning to thread the lace back through my boot holes. A knee bumped mine, causing it to jerk.
“Ya wanna move over, Adira?”
I gritted my teeth. Another of the arsehole squad. Unfortunately, my equal in rank.
“Busy here, Wagner.” I kept threading. “I’ll be done in a minute.”
There was a full fucking bench and he choose to invade my space. Bastard.
“Ain’t ladies supposed to keep their legs closed?” He sniggered, eliciting chuckles from the other cocks in the room. Give them an inch, they’d take a mile.
I paused, twisting my lips into a pageant smile – all teeth no heart. “I like a breeze on my lady curtains.” I shrugged. “Sue me.”
There was a pause. On my other side, Major Jack Hardy, threw back his head and roared with laughter.
Wagner’s face got red. “You cunt.” He spat the word. “Wait till-“
Done with my boot, I stood. At full height I towered over him by a good foot. I was tall, I was strong and, goddamn it, I was mean when I wanted to be. I could take him and keep him down and he knew it. I looked down at him waiting for the pissant to continue. He steamed for a moment, not wanting to lose face in front of his chumps.
Wagging cocks. Wagging fucking cocks the lot of them.
I bent down, my lips near his ear. “Walk away, Wagner. Cunts can take a pounding. Cock’s? Not so much.” I turned, exiting the locker room and heading for the briefing.
The briefing room was sterile. A projector screen, some desks and a bunch of chairs. Those that came early got chairs, those that didn’t stood at the back. The briefing officer always stood at the front and used the projector to show the terrain and any pertinent details. Today’s brief was different. We’d been given two hours notice. Jack and I had been ordered off our regular rotations and put on Operation Rosemary. We knew it was big based of the number of people in the room and the level of information we were being being fed. That level being precisely squat-fuck-fucking-all.
Jack crash-slumped into the chair beside me. His long body stretched out, thick legs and barrel chest overflowing the seat.
“Money’s on high-profile target.” His warm brown eyes were shining. “I’m gonna say hostage rescue.”
I shook my head. “We’re humanitarian only. Our participation in the Coalition was on the basis that we were here to securitize and rebuild. We’re not here to take territory or man missions.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Spoil sport.”
I shoved his head. “Shut up.”
“So what’s your bet?”
I looked at who was in the room. I looked at the rank of officers in the room and I considered the speed at which this was being organized.
“I’m calling high-ranking official visit.”
Jack glanced around the room his eyes suddenly sharp. “Fuck.”
“Fuck, you could be right.”
We exchanged a glance. Official visits were cluster fucks. They required secrecy and planning and anything that could go wrong generally did.
“Fuck.” We both muttered.
The briefing room door swung open revealing Colonel Henry Foster. Colonel Foster was in his late fifties, greying but fit, the guy was five feet nine of pure muscle.
“Thank you for your attendance.” He strode to the front of the room and Jack and I shuffled to sit straight, our attention directly on the Colonel. “Appreciate your participation at such short notice.” He nodded at his attendant who shut the door and hit the lights. The projector booted up, lighting the board with our country’s coat of arms, a maiden slaying a serpent.
“His Royal Highness, King Amadeus Victor Philippe Jarsdel of Katura has requested a visit. We have accepted. The visit is code name Operation Rosemary. The King will be referred to as the Rose in all communications hence forth.” King Amadeus was in his late sixties and had ably guided our small nation for the last forty-odd years. We were a small nation, known mostly for our beautiful islands, innovative technologies, sustainable energy – and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.
The Colonel transitioned to the next slide. I blinked. Jack let out a low whistle.
“As you can see, the Rose has requested a rather ambitious agenda for his visit.”
The list was extensive.
Arrival 0900 hours
0915-1000 Visit with the troops
1000 -1100 Tour of the Base
1100-1145 Travel to Embassy
1145-1345 Lunch with Ambassador
1430-1600 Meeting with Prime Minister
1630-1730 Return to Embassy
1900-2300 Dinner with local dignitaries
0700-0900 Breakfast with Foreign Minister
0930-1030 Return to Base
1400 Return to Katura
I raised my hand.
He nodded. “Adira?”
“Colonel, all respect, the Rose isn’t staying on base?” My voice was disbelieving.
“No. His people have elected to move him to the Embassy.” The Colonel’s moustache twitched aggressively, belying his calm words. “We will be providing security.”
The slide changed again, showing an aerial view of the location of the Prime Minister’s residence.
I swore under my breath. Jack lent forward shaking his head, hand rasping over his short brown buzzcut. “This is gonna be messy.” Our sentiments were echoed around the room.
“Settle down.” The Colonel used the red laser pointer to indicate our highest points of weakness. “These are our vulnerabilities. Alpha teams will be positioned here and here.” I made mental notes. “Beta here. And Capa here.” He gestured to the marketplace situated directly outside the residence. “It’s a bastard, but this is what the Prime Minister requested, and multiple requests for alternate locations were denied. I expect teams to secure the area as best we can 24 hours before. That means today people.”
He looked us over. “This visit is being closely held. If I hear one murmur in the parade ground, I swear to Christ, I will hang the lot of you by your fucking balls. Do I make myself clear?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Teams have been assigned. You know your leaders. Leads to me. Dismissed.”
I pushed away from the desk, heading immediately to the Colonel as the rest filed out.
“Leaders,” The Colonel shuffled through some papers before pulling the ones he wanted from his folder. “Lt Colonel Adira and Major Hardy will be ALPHA One on this operation. I expect you to follow their direction.” He looked at the gathered officers. “Am I understood?” The men nodded.
“Good.” He handed out the papers. “Memorise this then hand it to my aide before you leave. It’s the direct line for base. If the radios are compromised this is the line you will use.”
I silently read the numbers, repeating them, committing the sequence to memory.
“This is to be used by leadership only. If the radios are compromised it means the Rose is compromised.”
His moustache twitched again as he looked each of us in the eye, facing us straight on. “This is a war zone, gentlemen. Our Monarch has directed us to be here. But we are here on a peace keeping mission. We are rebuilding and we are fulfilling that mission. We do not kill civilians. Do we defend ourselves? When necessary. Do we defend others? When necessary. But never do we strike first. I will remind you of that now, and I will remind you of your responsibility to both your country and the Crown. We protect and we defend. We protect our people and we serve our country.” His eyes were sharp and unyielding as he stared at each of us.
All rights reserved Kim Cong 2017.
Anyone up for a sneak peek of my newest project?