Operation Fallen Angel

  Shepherd Security – Operation Fallen Angel

  Margaret Kay

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  Copyright © 2019 by Sisters Romance

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to the staff who work on 4 North.

  You gave me amazing care while I was there in both January and May of 2019.

  Please forgive any incorrect medical scenes. I am not a skilled professional as each of you are.

  My thanks for the demanding job you do - and do so well!

  Margaret

  Alpha

  Sister Elizabeth listened to the sounds of war in the distance. She could hear the muffled explosions, but she couldn’t tell at first from which direction they came. Everything echoed through the valleys that lay between the many hills that rose from the desert floor.

  This was a harsh and unforgiving landscape that suffered endless droughts. There were repeated religious uprisings and continuous political unrest, but the people who she’d come to know and care for here, were worth the fight. They had hope, faith, and love in their hearts. They were good people who survived against all odds and tried to eke out an existence in a desolate land that seemed hell-bent on denying them life.

  Black smoke billowed from the hill a good five miles away. She kept her bright blue eyes trained on the hill while straining to identify that direction as the source when the next concussions echoed through the valley. Yes, that was where the fighting was taking place. It was a lot closer than she would have liked.

  A sudden gust blew her black headscarf from her head. Her waist-long stick-straight, dishwater blond hair joined the scarf swirling in the scorching breeze. She clenched the scarf in one hand and gathered her hair as best she could, securing it in a tie at the base of her neck. Sweat trickled down her back, beneath the dark gray tunic she wore. Beneath, she wore a black tank top and a pair of athletic shorts. Not the customary wardrobe for a Sister, but she wasn’t a typical Sister either.

  In the twenty-four-years Sister Elizabeth had lived, the last three in this village had tested her faith in ways she would never have predicted. Even though she looked younger than her years, the people here, both fellow Sisters and locals, treated her with respect and trusted her as a medical professional with a deference she would never have received in the United States.

  Sister Bernice John came up behind her. “Those poor people. My heart aches for those in that village.”

  “They are steadily moving closer, Sister,” Elizabeth said.

  “God will keep us safe. Surely you have faith?”

  Elizabeth felt a pang of guilt in her heart. No, she didn’t. She turned and faced Sister Bernice John, a woman she respected immensely. The Sister wore, as always, the traditional habit of their order. Sister Elizabeth on the other hand, dressed appropriately for the area.

  “I’ve, um, stockpiled some supplies in the cave and fabricated a fake wall in the clinic up against the entrance to the cave in the hill. If they come to our village, we may not make it out, but I think we could hide and remain safe if we need to.”

  “Sister Elizabeth!” Bernice John reprimanded. “God will keep us safe. We will not flee. We will not hide. We will face what God sends us with courage and faith.”

  “And the children, and innocent women in our care? How can we demand the same of them? We’ve seen what Al-Shabaab does when they take a village. As Christians, we are targets. They’re not like the militia, the warlords, and the pirates who have some degree of reverence for us, or in the very least fear reprisals in their own afterlives if they harm us. Can you really demand those children face these demons with the same courage we would?”

  Another blast rolled through the valley and a boiling black cloud expanded over the faraway hill. Elizabeth knew that signified the death blow to that village. She turned away from Sister Bernice John, her Mother Superior over this small order, and returned to her medical clinic.

  The Sisters of Mercy had been in this village, right at the border of Ethiopia and Somalia for years. There were sixteen Sisters serving the destitute in the area. They ran an orphanage, a school, and a clinic. Because of the strife in the area, their beds were full.

  Elizabeth decided that, with or without permission, she would do what she could to stockpile the supplies they may need to survive. She knew the fighters would head their direction next. She knew she didn’t have the faith she should, but a part of her had to believe that the idea to hide could be divine, a calling to survive.

  “Sister Elizabeth!” Sister Bernice John exclaimed running into the clinic. It was several hours after nightfall. “The fighters attacked the next closest village. We have incoming casualties and a few dozen refugees fleeing that village. I fear they are leading Al-Shabaab to our doorstep, but we cannot turn them away.”

  Just then Sister Mary Michael burst into the room, leading a half-dozen women who carried children, several of them severely injured. “They tried to take the children,” Sister Mary Michael said.

  Sister Elizabeth motioned the women to the two exam tables she had. They sat and laid the four most seriously injured children on the tables. One of the women needed attention as well. She had several deep cuts on her face and arms that bled.

  “Sister,” Elizabeth said to Mary Michael. “Clean the wounds on the less serious injuries.” She carefully examined the wounds on two young boys. They were both unconscious, but still alive. “These boys are both in critical condition. I need to take them to the treatment room and see what I can do.”

  Elizabeth trained at a community college in her hometown of Seattle and earned her Certified Nursing Assistant License. While working at a free clinic in one of the roughest neighborhoods in Seattle before her assignment with this mission, she learned far more from Sister Abigale, a doctor, than she had formally. Before she traveled to Africa, she already performed advanced medical procedures like starting IVs, dispensing medications, cleaning and bandaging wounds. She’d even assisted Sister Abigale when she dug bullets out of at least two-dozen shooting victims.

  She had planned to become a registered nurse, but this assignment to Africa was one that she felt drawn to. Sister Abigale gave her the necessary recommendation to be chosen for the assignment. It was only supposed to be for two years and Elizabeth planned to return to school after it to continue her education. She wasn’t sure what her plans were now, though. This experience had changed her, she knew that. She saw and thought about things differently than she had before coming to Africa. She supposed it was natural that the idealism she once felt was gone. After seeing what she’d seen here, how could it not?

  She wasn’t sure how the other Sisters who had been here for years still felt the way they did. Sister Karen, who served as this clinic’s doctor, was steadfast in her belief that things in this region could change for the better. Sister Karen also gave her the confidence to attempt whatever was needed to save the innocent lives that came through the doors. Elizabeth had learned so much from Sister Karen that she carried on and practiced medicine every way she had to, to save lives. That was one of the things that kept her here, for now.

  Sister Karen had suddenly been medevacked out six months earlier, after suffering a stroke. The request was in for a replacement doctor, but one had not been assigned yet. Her absence had d
elayed Elizabeth’s departure, that, and Sister Bernice John’s stubbornness in not wanting to let Elizabeth leave.

  It took several hours for Elizabeth to stabilize the two young boys. She had to sedate them with ether, the only sedative she had. One, she dug out shrapnel from his chest. She stitched him up the best she could, hoping she’d found all the points he bled from. The other, suffered two broken legs. She set them and splinted them. He too had a number of deep cuts that she stitched, the most concerning at his clavicle.

  “What on Earth happened to you two?” She asked the two unconscious boys.

  “The barbarians tried to kill everyone,” a young local woman said from the doorway. She had carried one of the boys into the clinic. Her clothes were saturated with blood.

  “Are you injured?” Sister Elizabeth asked her.

  “No, it is all that boy’s blood.”

  “Is he your son?”

  “No, I don’t know who he is. This morning, many came seeking refuge in our village from their own, which had been attacked yesterday. No one seemed to claim these two children. But I believe they are brothers. They don’t speak our tongue or English. I’m not sure where they are from.”

  “Your English is very good,” Elizabeth complimented her.

  “I worked at the U.S. Embassy in Addis Ababa as a translator. My father was a diplomat and made sure I learned English when I was young.”

  “What are you doing way out here? You are a long way from home.”

  The woman smiled fondly. “You are even farther, Sister. The man I married was from this area. We traveled here to visit family, and the fighting has kept us here far longer than planned. It just is not safe to travel the roads back to Addis Ababa at this time.”

  “They will sleep longer, but can I have you stay with them?” Sister Elizabeth asked. “I’d like to go check on the others.”

  “Certainly,” the woman said.

  Elizabeth returned to the main room. It was packed with the other Sisters, all the children and women who lived in the village, as well as the many who sought refuge. It was chaotic and crowded. There was a desperation in the collective. Outside, she heard shouting. She went to one of the windows and pushed the window covering aside. She stared into the dark night.

  Her eyes landed on Sister Bernice John, as she came through the door. “What is it?”

  “The fighters are nearly upon the village!”

  “I just operated on the two boys, Sister,” Elizabeth said. “If I try to move them, it will kill them.”

  “We’re not going to evacuate. God will provide safety. We will shelter in place as you suggested. We’re securing the buildings as much as we can. Everyone is gathering here. Show me this false wall you have fastened so we can herd everyone behind it.”

  Alexander ‘Doc’ Williams felt the vibration from his cell phone just as he heard the various alert tones of the phones belonging to his teammates in the room. Both Alpha and Delta Teams were there, and by the looks of it, every member got the alert. He viewed the screen. Just as expected, it was the Operations Center. The teams were being called in.

  He downed the rest of his beer, Octoberfest, and shoved the last two forkfuls of jaeger schnitzel from his paper plate into his mouth. His eyes scanned the others. They were doing the same. A few had already dumped their plates in the trash and made their way over to Sienna and Garcia to say final congratulations on their new house. This was some housewarming party, with one of the hosts and nearly every guest getting called into work. Sienna knew what she was getting into though. She knew very well what the team did. Interrupted plans were just the new normal she’d have to get used to.

  Behind Sienna, he saw Jackson give his six-month-old son a kiss goodbye. Then his lips went to Angel, his wife. So, Jackson had gotten scrambled too. That meant this was something big. Jackson had been pulling more shifts in the Ops Center recently than out on missions in an attempt to balance his time at home with being away. Doc didn’t blame him. If he had a child, he couldn’t imagine being away as often as the team was.

  Doc stepped over to Sienna. “Congrats again.” He gave her a hug. “I’ll have Garcia’s six, don’t worry.”

  “You better.”

  Doc gave her a forced smile. Then he made his way to the door and followed several others out. He drove to HQ, the Shepherd Security Building. He followed the long line of vehicles down deep into subbasement two, and the secure parking area that was hidden behind a locked gate and two secure garage doors. He parked beside Danny ‘Mother’ Trio’s pickup truck and pulled himself from behind the wheel of his SUV. He grabbed his bags from the back.

  “This isn’t going to be pretty,” Danny said.

  They entered the main facility door and joined the others in the Team Room, stowing their gear near their lockers. Cooper and Madison entered as he was about to go into the stairwell and head to five, to the main conference room where the mission briefing would take place.

  “Do you have any idea what’s up?” He asked Cooper. As number two in charge of the agency, Cooper often had information that no one else did.

  Cooper shook his head no. “It’s big if both teams were called in.”

  Doc nodded. Yes, he knew that. His adrenalin pumped through him as he charged up the stairs. The sounds of the heavy footfalls of the others echoed through the stairwell. He stepped off on five and followed his teammates into the main conference room. Shepherd waited there. He already had the monitor on, a map and mission particulars displayed. Africa, more specifically the border area of Somalia, Ethiopia, and Djibouti.

  They all took their seats and waited. Jackson and Garcia entered five minutes later. Doc could tell Shepherd wanted to comment on their tardiness but knowing Garcia’s housewarming party was interrupted by the alert, Shepherd was uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Sorry to interrupt your party, but after you hear why, you’ll agree this is important.” His eyes settled on Jackson. “As you know, we have kept the area that Angel’s mother is in on our radar. The base commander at Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti is aware of our interest. He notified me earlier today that a conflict has erupted on the border at their location. The village they are in has been overrun by hostiles, looks like Al-Shabaab.

  Jackson’s jaw clenched. “We’re going in?”

  Shepherd nodded. “You’ll fly out within the hour.” Then Shepherd went over the mission details. They’d fly into Andrews Air Force Base and board a C-17. They’d fly from there into Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti and use it as their base of operations in the area. “Evacuating the Sisters of Mercy and the civilians they protect is the mission. Do what you have to do to get in and out, engage the enemy as needed, but don’t pursue them if they retreat.”

  Doc watched Jackson carefully. He could see the wheels turning in his friend’s head. Jackson was already worrying about Angel. She’d be upset her mother was in danger. This would be a hell of a way for Jackson to meet his mother-in-law in person. They’d had a few video calls, but Angel’s mother, Sister Bernice John, had been with the Sisters of Mercy on a humanitarian mission in Africa since long before Jackson met Angel.

  “Can I call Angel and let her know?” Jackson asked.

  “Negative,” Shepherd replied. “I’ll do it tomorrow when Lassiter can be there too.”

  Dr. Joe Lassiter was the team shrink. He knew Angel well and would be the best person to handle whatever Angel’s emotions would be upon hearing the news. Doc was always impressed by how well Shepherd handled these things. Emotional issues were something that Shepherd inherently was tuned into, and that was before any of the men had women in their lives. Shepherd had always realized that they were human beings and the work they did strained even the most professional man amongst them. That was one of the many reasons that Doc was on this team.

  “That’s good,” Jackson said. “Thanks.”

  Shepherd nodded. Then his eyes shifted to Madison. “Miller, upon arrival at Camp Lemonnier, you will act as the team liaison and remai
n at the base in their Ops Center directing operations while the team is in the field.”

  “What?” She demanded, bordering on insubordination. “You’re sidelining me?”

  “Stand down, Miller,” Shepherd ordered. “We need someone there and you are the most logical person to fill that role.”

  “Because I’m the only woman?”

  “No, because of your history manning combat Ops in the Middle East when you were in the Army.” Shepherd’s voice was sharp, the warning to let it go dripped from his words.

  “Yes, sir,” Madison replied.

  Doc could tell she didn’t like it one bit. And he was sure every man in the room knew that it was because she was a woman. The area they were going to, was continually plagued by civil unrest. Strict Sharia law was practiced in the parts of Somalia that were under Al-Shabaab’s control. Everywhere else, terrorist attacks, kidnappings, clan violence, and dangerous levels of violent crimes were the normal state of affairs. There was no effective police force present. And the waters near Somalia were full of pirates, who controlled villages on the coast. He agreed. This mission was no place for any woman.