Project Sparta (The Xander Whitt Series Book 1) (7 page)

Chapter 11
 

Over the Atlantic

Elevation: 35,000 ft

June 29
th
2016

Xander shifted in the cockpit of the V-22 Osprey that he had taken from Bagram Airfield. He was lost in the steady humming of the engines and the chopping of the propellers. Along with the subtle vibrations through the cockpit, the sounds of flight entranced him into a deep contemplation on his mission to determine the true identity of Agent Zero and to stop the attack. His focus had only intensified at the revelation that Agent Zero was a Spartan. He probed every small detail for any theory as to who the defector could be.

Who would be capable of turning on us and plotting an attack on America? Seamus? Reckless and aggressive. Jooles? Silent and scheming. Ashton? Tobias? Mac? It could be anybody—even an instructor…

Just then a familiar voice interrupted his reflection as it bellowed through his headset.

“Rattlesnake come in. This is AT101 do you copy?” It was Captain Axle.

“I copy. How are you doing, Captain?”

“What the fuck are you thinking? Do you have any idea how many phone calls I had to make to keep F15s off your tail? The United States military does not like it when a one-hundred-million-dollar plane disappears!” Axle’s bark rocked Xander’s ear drums.

“It was an emergency,” Xander explained, adjusting the headset.

“It’s always an emergency with you. How many times do I have to tell you not to abuse the freedom being a Spartan gives you? We are government contractors that aid the military. We aren’t supposed to steal their aircrafts!”

“Yes, sir,” he responded, obediently, knowing fully that the response would disarm his Commanding Officer.

“Good.” After a short moment, Axle moved on to business. “What’s the emergency?”

“Agent Zero is a Spartan,” Xander said plainly.

“What?” Axle’s voice became grave.

“Agent Zero is a Spartan. During the recon, after I intercepted the package being exchanged, I got a call from a distorted voice on my sat phone. It was Agent Zero.”

“He identified himself as Agent Zero?”

“Yeah. And the package was a brick-shaped stone with the words ‘Nothing is as it seems’ inscribed on it,” Xander said.

“Fuck,” Axle exhaled.

“The stone was intended for me all along. Agent Zero is playing some messed up game with me,” Xander said, still trying to make sense of it all himself.

“Xander, there is something you should know.”

“What’s that?”

“Duke went dark three months ago” A long pause sounded over the headset. Xander’s grip tightened on the throttle, his temples pulsed.

“Why wasn’t I told?” Xander asked through gritted teeth.

“Given your history with him, you were on a need-to-know basis,” Axle explained.

“Find him!” Xander ordered over the headset.

“You know as well as anyone we trained you to be ghosts. He’s gone,” Axle explained, but Xander didn’t want to hear it.

“I’ll be at Andrews Air Force base in five hours. This is Rattlesnake, over and out!” Xander cut the comm and sunk back in the cockpit seat. He gazed out over the clouds he hovered above. He again saw a red swirl across the sky as the sun set ahead of him. It resembled a lone lock of curly hair.

Fiona…

A heaviness settled in his gut at the thought of her. It was a longing to see her again and in many ways return to the Compound, no matter how strenuous the training was, and relive the innocent playful flirtations that formed their love. His sadness turned into anger as his mind returned to the mission at hand and the variables at play. His eyes fell to his grip on the throttle, his fist clenched, the whites in his knuckles popped.

The chilling words from Agent Zero’s distorted voice echoed in his head.

This is your game, Xander. Play it well. People’s lives depend on it.

Chapter 12

Airspace Over Prince William Forest Park

Elevation: 30,000 ft

August 8
th
2010

“Welcome to paratroop training!” Axle yelled over the churning of the airplane’s propellers as they hummed through the cargo bay of the C-130H3.

The Spartans were dressed with parachutes strapped to their back, helmets fastened over their head and respirators secured over their mouths.

“Your first HALO jump will be from 30,000 feet. You have trained back in the Compound, but I assure you nothing is like the real thing. You must keep a clear head, while focusing on your breathing. Although your suits will help with the changes in air pressure and your oxygen levels you still have to focus and keep your adrenaline at bay.”

Xander glanced over to Fiona. She was snapping her respirator over her mouth. She pulled her helmet over her head and gave him a wink through the helmet’s visor. Xander smiled back. Axle continued.

“Each of you has a different target drop zone. Take a moment to reference your GPS display on the sleeve of your suits.”

Xander’s head dropped to his. He could make out his current longitude and latitude through his visor. Then he saw a second line of coordinates. It said, ‘
Target:
38.602421, -77.398139’.
He noticed that his current location was slowly ticking closer to his target.

Xander stood behind Bronson in the line of jumpers. He could see a deep exhale come over Bronson and his feet begin to tap. Xander could tell that Bronson was as nervous as he was, so he decided to cut the tension.

“You okay big guy?” Xander asked over his shoulder.

Bronson straightened his posture, as if trying to restore his appearance.

“Yeah, I’m cool…”

“You sure?” Xander patted his shoulder.

“Just miss my family…” Bronson’s voice trailed. “Not to mention, I’m scared of heights…”

Xander laughed to himself and reassured him. “You’ll be fine, buddy.”

Axle yelled over the cargo bay again, finishing his mission briefing.

“After you jump you will need to navigate through the air before parachute deployment to position yourselves for a successful approach. Any questions?” After a moment of waiting, he slapped the button on the wall, which caused the back hatch of the aircraft to open. A surge of dry air swept over the Spartans and filled the cargo bay immediately.

Xander waited as eight of the Spartans jumped out of the aircraft at different moments. He and Bronson were the only two left to jump. Axle pointed to Xander, causing him to approach the back of the aircraft. He planted his feet in a firm stance before the hatch and scanned the miles of green terrain passing below him. With one hand on the line, steadying himself, he fished out his crucifix with the other.

Axle gave the thumbs up. Xander kissed the crucifix, shoved it back down into his suit and jumped.

Ripping through the air at a forty-five degree angle from the landscape, Xander gathered speed in his descent as he cut through a large marshmallow cloud. His respirator blew fresh pressurized oxygen into his mouth, keeping his body’s levels in balance as he sped like a bullet toward the earth. Engulfed by the white mist of the cloud, his mind remained focused on his flight path.

He consulted the GPS on his arm, performed some quick calculation and straightened his frame to speed off to the west. Xander overshot the coordinates after twenty seconds of gliding. He widened his arms and legs, allowing the air resistance to increase and slow his course.

After seventy five seconds of free fall, when his altitude readings read 2,000 feet, he pulled his chord. Immediately Xander snapped back as the chute caught wind. After two minutes of descent with the parachute deployed, Xander spotted a clearing in the forest over which he flew.

“There we are…”

«————————»

Xander collapsed in the clearing as he was trained upon impact with the earth. The parachute continued to drag him across the ground until he detached it from his shoulders. After a few moments of finding his bearings, he gathered his feet beneath him and surveyed the clearing.

There was a strange woman, wearing a paint suit, smiling at him through a wide frozen grin and bulging eyes. Her face was covered in pale foundation but smothered in an over-applied red blush. Her face was stretched thin from Botox injections. Her hair was perfect, falling to her shoulders, revealing her pearl earrings.

“I hear you are Alexander Whitt, one of our most gifted Spartans.” She spoke to him like he was three years old. It was very odd, especially after being treated like an adult for the last two months.

“People call me Xander.”

“Well, allow me to introduce myself. I am Senator Helen Bashfield. I work for the government,” she spoke like she was reading a children’s book.

“Nice to meet you.” He offered his hand.

“I just wanted to introduce myself and make sure you are being treated well here and to let you know that if you need anything, I am here for you. If you don’t like it here, we may be able to get you out early and put you to good use elsewhere.”

Xander was perplexed. “Put me to good use elsewhere?”

“There is a demand for spies like you, especially in the Middle East. You would be under my direct supervision. As Chairwoman of the Committee on Homeland Security, I am in many ways the guardian of Project Sparta.”

“Really?” Xander feigned interest.

“Yes. Xander, you have already advanced beyond the training of the other Spartans. You are special. You should come with me. You can start making a difference for this country right now.” Her tone was one of wild admiration.

This woman wants me to leave my training prematurely and be her clandestine errand boy? Where is Hardy?
Everything from head to stiletto of this lady seems rehearsed.

“I have a job to do here. I like where I am. I am learning a lot.” Her expression remained frozen, yet her eyes retreated, hurt. Xander felt the only reason anyone would act in such a way was if they were hiding something. He had a keen ability to read people, but it took no genius to see this woman was as robotic as Anni.

What the hell is this lady talking about? Is she the woman behind the curtain? She’s trying to take me from the program, away from Hardy.
             

Bashfield stopped and turned Xander to face her.

“I really wish you would… we could do so much good for the world together.” There was a mission in her eyes, one that Xander couldn’t yet decipher.

“I’m sorry… but my team needs me and I need them.” Before Senator Bashfield could say anything, a flitter of pebbles announced someone’s approach. Rearden ran down the trail – out of breath and with dread spelt on her face.

“Xander, head back to the rendezvous point now! Senator Bashfield, come quick!”

“What is it, Juliette?” Bashfield asked, demanding an explanation for her intrusion. Rearden looked over Xander and then exhaled a tumultuous weight off her chest.

“It’s Bronson… his chute never deployed.”

Chapter 13

The Compound

August 8
th
2010

That night the Spartans gathered in the Mess Hall and waited in silence for any word from their instructors. The news of Bronson’s death had already spread but endless speculation mounted as the details were unclear. The Spartans settled in a morose disquiet.

“Alright… who killed him?” Duke spoke up, obviously troubled by his best friend’s passing.

Ashton was the first to respond. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, who messed with his chute!” Duke’s voice elevated to an accusatory tone. No one engaged with the loose allegation. After a few moments of contemplative silence, Xander spoke up.

“Bronson seemed nervous before the jump… he said he was scared of heights. Was it a chute malfunction? Or did he intentionally not pull the chord.” At hearing this, Duke kicked his chair out and stood to his feet. He slapped his hands down on the table and eyed Xander as if he was about to pounce.

“He didn’t kill himself!” Duke spoke through his clenched jaw.

“Did anyone see his body?” the small voice that asked the question belonged to Fiona. All eyes turned to her.

“What are you getting at?” Seamus narrowed his eyes at her.

“Did anyone see his body?”

The Spartans looked among each other and no one could say they had.

“I guess not… so what are you implying?” Seamus asked again.

“Maybe he was pulled from the program. He was behind in almost every area of training,” she theorized.

“Did anyone even see him jump out of the plane?” Mac spoke up, pursuing Fiona’s conspiracy theory.

“No one would have. I was the ninth to jump. Bronson was still in the plane when I jumped. So he would have been the last, if he even jumped at all…” Xander recalled and saw the logic in the hypothetical.

“That’s crazy. You think Bronson didn’t jump and he just flew away!” Jooles challenged the growing suspicion in the room.

“Or… he jumped and is dead like they say…” Xander considered the other side of the coin.

“It d…d…doesn’ttt…m…m…matter g…g…guys!” Tobias stuttered.

“Of course it does!” Duke fired back.

“D…don’t y…y…you understand? W…w…whether he is d…d…dead or n…n…not he’s gone and w…we w…w…will never s…s…see him again.”

“Tobias is right,” Xander realized aloud. “Even if the instructors are lying to us and they kicked Bronson out of the program. He might as well be dead, because we will never see him again. They train us to disappear. You don’t think they can make one of us disappear?” There was a silence that settled over the room. The Spartans fell to their thoughts and reached general agreement with Xander. The mood flat-lined once again and the speculations stalled.

After another hour of waiting, Hardy and the other instructors walked into the Mess Hall, much like they had orientation night. Hardy took the podium and began.

“Spartans, I am sorry to report but now you know, Bronson Newton is dead. After an inspection, nothing seemed wrong with his pack so foul play has been ruled out. It appears he never pulled the cord…” Hardy’s voice cracked upon announcing the news. He took a moment to regain his composure. “Let this be a reminder to you all that what we do is perilous. Your life is always at stake. Despite the simulated aspects of this Compound, the danger is real. You must always have your guard up. And above all, if you don’t keep things in perspective, you can become your own worst enemy.  Any questions?” Hardy spoke direct and blunt.

“Can we see him?” Fiona spoke up. The other’s arched their eyebrows interested in the answer.

“No you can’t. Out of respect for him, it should remain a closed casket. The injuries sustained from the impact rendered him unrecognizable.” A few Spartans shifted in their seats as the answer left them unsettled. Hardy looked around for any other signs of questions, he found none.

“Get some sleep Spartans. We continue our training tomorrow.”