The Game He Lost

By Micheal Mikey

Published on Apr 21, 2012

Gay

The Stand-off

"The satellite infrared images aren't as clear as I would like." Sandra stepped through the group of men who were gathered around the mess table and hit a few keys on her laptop computer. The screen cleared. The hard drive crackled as a new image began to form. "There's an area in the northwest corner of the ground floor that we couldn't penetrate at all. The place was a butcher shop, so I assumed it was the meat locker. The blueprints confirmed this."

"Are there any identifiable heat patterns in the rest of the building?" Ghost asked.

"Yes. This scan was done at 1630 hours. There appears to be a group of people in a room on the second floor." She tapped another key. "I will augment the resolution... Here. I count eleven individuals."

"Then it's definitely more than one cell. This has to be Boko Haram's base."

Abe moved to the edge of the group and rose up on his toes so he could get a better view of the computer screen. No one was using the chairs – this gathering was more of a discussion than a briefing, and if the men felt a fraction as tense as he did, they would prefer to stand anyway.

The computer screen showed a pattern of ghostly red and orange blobs on a background of foggy-gray cubes. The picture had been taken through solid walls from several miles above the earth. Under other circumstances, the classified military reconnaissance technology in evidence here might have awed him – he was sure that regular law enforcement agencies didn't have access to resources like this – but what was one more secret added to the rest he now kept? All he cared about were the results.

"By 2240 hours they had left this room," Sandra said. "Because the sun had gone done, we had less interference and could determine areas of interest on the ground floor. Several heat sources that fit the human profile are here and here." She moved the cursor's white arrow over the screen. "The scans done between midnight and 0500 show little change."

"We could be looking at where they sleep," Ghost said.

"Yes. That was my conclusion."

"Can you determine the relative size of the people?"

Sandra paused. "Judging by the mass, they have to be adults."

"No sign of the hostage?"

"No. my best guess is the he is being kept in the meat locker," Sandra said. "It would be the logical place."

Images of Matthew flashed into Abe's mind, the brown eyed boy, who had smiled from a photograph taken in a rain-washed garden and who could look so intent over a stranded starfish. Gradually, another image arose. A cold, frightened child, chunks of hair missing from his scalp and a tooth missing from his mouth. Locked up, alone and terrified.

For God's sake, hurry up!

Why were these people taking so long? It had been a full day since that envelope with its obscene message had been delivered to the embassy. Didn't anyone think of what Matthew was going through?

Finn moved behind him and squeezed his shoulder.

Abe exhaled hard, and put his hand over Finn's. He had to trust them. These soldiers would know better than anyone what the child was going through. They were more experienced at handling this side of life than he was. He shouldn't mistake their caution and clear thinking for indifference.

"You are only speculating about his location," Ghost said. "The hostage might not be there at all."

"That is a possibility, too," Sandra said.

Ghost moved to the rolled blueprints that were stacked on the opposite side of the table. He chose one and flattened it out. "The top storey gives us our best options for entry. The door to the roof leads to a narrow stairwell that opens into the upper hallway. The windows at either end of the hall don't have bars. We can call up a chopper to put us on the roof. If we hit them at night when they are sleeping we can neutralize them before they have a chance to harm the hostage."

"And if he isn't in the meat locker?" Sandra asked.

"Then our raid on the base would send the other MEND cells underground," Ghost replied. "And the hostage would be executed."

There was a rustle of movement from the men. Abe could feel Finn's hand tighten under his.

"The outside time frame is Friday, so we need to move in before then," the commander said. "But unless we can confirm the location of the hostage, it would be best to wait until the next drop is scheduled. With Mr. Locke serving as a diversion, our chances of taking the Boko Haram base by surprise are better. Their attention and manpower will be divided. We can do a sweep by moving on the three rooming houses at the same time and jamming their communication from the base to ensure they don't get off a warning..."

"No," Finn said.

Ghost lifted an eyebrow at the interruption. "Do you have something constructive to say, Braveheart?"

"What you suggest would put Mr. Locke at too much risk, Sir. Timing a raid to coincide with the ransom drop would expose him to greater danger than doing a straight drop."

"We will take measures to protect him."

"They won't be enough. If it goes sour, Mr. Locke would be in as much jeopardy as the hostage."

"Your protest is noted, Sergeant."

"Commander..."

"O'Brian, do I need to remind you why Mr. Locke is our guest?" Ghost looked pointedly at their joined hands. "He is not here for your private amusement."

Abe could sense Ghost's irritation and Finn's growing anger. He let go of Finn's hand and stepped forward. "Excuse me?"

The men's gaze shifted toward him.

Abe had never been more conscious of his size. He was surrounded by hard muscled, grim faced soldiers who towered at least a head above him. As always, they were wearing ordinary clothes rather than uniforms, but that made no difference. He couldn't forget they were trained fighters, waiting for the chance to go into action. What made him think he had anything to contribute?

Sandra caught his eye and nodded once, a silent gesture of encouragement.

Abe drew himself up to his full five foot four, crossed his arms and tipped his chin to look at the commander. "I'm here to return Matthew Ibru safely to his family," he said. "And if I can do that by being a diversion, I will."

"Thank you, Mr. Locke."

"Abe," Finn said. "You don't understand what this means."

Abe kept his gaze on the major. "I'll be wearing the same communication equipment and bullet proof vest as last time, right?"

"Yes, of course. We will have sharpshooters around the drop point, as well."

"Then I can do it," he said.

Finn swore under his breath and caught Abe's elbow. "It won't be the same as the last time, Abe. The situation could deteriorate too fast. I won't let you do this."

"Braveheart, you are out of line." Ghost's voice was low, as ominous as a roll of thunder.

Finn seemed to take no notice of the reprimand from his superior officer or the glances from the other men. He continued to stare at Abe. "Use your head. You are too involved. You are not thinking objectively."

"Are you?"

Abe's question made Finn pause. A muscle in his jaw jumped. Before he could reply, there was the scrape of footsteps behind them. Rafe and Jack stepped forward from the group to stand either side of Finn. Rafe gave him a solid nudge in the ribs. Jack caught him as he staggered and neatly moved between Finn and the commander.

"Commander Aniston," Rafe said. "There is an alley that runs behind the north wall of the butcher shop. The meat locker is in the northeast corner of the building, correct?"

Ghost gave a crisp nod.

"If we could devise some form of cover that would allow us to be in the alley," Rafe said, "we could drill a small hole through the wall of building into the locker and insert a cable cam."

Sandra spoke up quickly. "That's an excellent idea, Commander. If we can get a visual confirmation of the Ibru boy's location with the camera, we would be able to move on the base well before the next ransom drop."

"Good. Do it." Ghost stepped back from the table and skewed Finn with a look. "Braveheart, I'll see you outside. Now."

Finn finished cleaning the last piece of the submachine gun and set it on the cloth he had spread over the wooden pallet in front of him. The black lacquer that coated the parts had been developed for durability. The pistol grip was ambidextrous, so the gun could be fired single handedly, with either hand. The suppressor that fitted over the end of the barrel reduced the noise of a shot to the decibel level of a light tap. It was a versatile weapon, perfect for close-range combat; both silent and deadly. With movements that had the choreographed grace of an action repeated countless times, Finn re-assembled the gun. When he was finished, he held it loosely, feeling the familiar weight settle reassuringly into his hands. Every man in the Nighthawks had been drilled in the use of deadly force. They knew the stakes and they accepted the risks. This was what Finn was trained for and what he was good at. It was the life he had chosen. He didn't know what he would do without it. Jack squatted beside him to reach the ammunition case on the floor. "You okay?" he asked. Finn put the weapon down. "Fine." "Ghost looked pissed. I thought you would be pulling guard duty at Bragg for the next year." "Anston is fair. Guard duty would be too easy. He figured the worst thing he could do to me is leave me where I am." Jack chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds like the commander." "Is the camera in place?" "Rafe and Blake are still working on it. First, they've got to reposition a dumpster from father down the alley so it butts against the wall where the meat locker is located." "Are they going to drill from the inside the dumpster? Is that the plan?" "Uh-huh. Rafe wasn't too crazy about that part." "As long as it works... It was a good idea." "You probably would have thought of it yourself if you hadn't been so wrapped up with Abe." Finn leaned a hip against the corner of a packing crate and raked his fingers through his hair. "Thanks for the save back there. I owe you and Rafe." "You were digging yourself a pretty deep hole with Ghost. We couldn't stand by and watch you fall in." Jack paused as he counted out thirty shells and lined them up in neat rows on top of the crate. "And you don't owe me. I was returning the favor." "What favor?" Jack stood up from his crouch and slanted him a look. "I seem to remember one briefing about a few months ago when I couldn't keep my mind on the mission. You didn't pull any punches when you reminded me about my priorities." Finn frowned. He knew what Jack was referring to. They had been planning a raid on the Caribbean island stronghold of the notorious drug lord, Falcone. Finn had been blunt when he had pointed out Jack's attention hadn't been with them 100 percent. "That was different." "Uh-huh. How?" "You weren't listening to the commander's briefing because you were thinking about Songbird." Jack picked up the first shell in the closest row, wiped it carefully and inserted it into an empty magazine that would fit the submachine gun Finn had just assembled. "And how is that different?" "You were serious about the woman. You ended up proposing to her. I was concerned with Abe's safety, that's all." "Yes, you said so." "It's not the same." Jack picked up a second shell, cleaned it and put it in the magazine. "Yeah, he's not your type." "Damn right." "You told me tall men fit you better." Finn thought about how Abe had curled up in his arms on the cot, and how he had swayed into him as he had held him against the wall last night. He hadn't thought about `fit'. Size had been irrelevant. Their bodies had flowed together as naturally as if they had been designed for each other. "He looks like a nester," Jack continued. "I hope he realizes that you are not the man for him." "He knows. We're straight about that." "Once you get serious about a man, you lose your edge; doesn't that sound like something you told me?" "I might have." Jack cleaned several more shells. He didn't speak again until he finished filling the magazine and had handed it to Finn. "The rest of the guys figure they know why you hanging all over Abe. They think it's the challenge that's got you hooked." "They have got too much time on their hands." "Is it?" "What?" "The challenge." Jack fixed him with a steady gaze. "Do you consider Abe sport? Any bet on how much longer it will take you to get into his pants?" Anger stiffened Finn's spine. He remained where he was with an effort. "You are lucky I've already got one ugly friend, otherwise, I would have rearranged your face for the comment about Abe." "Funny, I seem to remember rearranging your uniform when you made a comment like that about Glenna." A dimple folded into Jack's cheeks. "But go ahead and try, O'Brian. I've always thought you're too pretty for your own good." Finn focused on Jack's half smile and felt his anger deflate a quickly as it had arisen. Jack was a good friend; the best man to have his back in any fight. His crude remark about Abe had been an attempt to jar Finn into revealing how he felt. Problem was, Finn wasn't sure himself. You are too involved. You are not thinking objectively. That's what he had told Abe. He should have listened to his own advice. "It's my duty to keep Abe safe," he said. "I don't want him to get hurt." "I can see that. But are you sure you're not serious about him?" "I have other plans for my life. I like my freedom." "That's what I thought until I met Glenna. Loving her opened a whole new world of possibilities, and made me look at life from a new perspective." "Geez, can we change the subject? This touchy-feely stuff is giving me hives. Next thing you know you're going to take up knitting." Jack continued to look at him, his smile dimming. "Changing the subject won't change what's happening, Finn. There's something special between you and Abe. Just think about it, okay? I didn't until it was almost too late. I could have lost Glenna." "This is different. Nothing is going to happen to Abe. I'm going to make sure of it." "Uh-huh. And what happens when the mission is over?" Jack clapped his hand on Finn's shoulder and gave him a shake. "Better think about that, too."

A ragged bush grew beside the loading bay. Its branches scraped against the cement platform in the breeze, making a light scrabbling noise. A cricket chirped among the weeds that grew through a crack in the pavement. Answering chirps sounded faintly from the corner of the warehouse. To one side, the rusted hulks of derelict cars were heaped behind the fence of a junkyard. On the other, the dark outline of an abandoned factory was silhouetted against the glow of the city. Overhead, the blinking lights of a plane mingled with the stars, its engines a faint rumble in the distance.

Abe pulled his jacket more tightly around his shoulders as he turned his face to the breeze.

"Abe?"

"Over here, Finn," he replied softly.

Finn walked past the loading bay to the edge of the lane where Abe was standing. "I thought you'd want to know the camera is working. They penetrated the meat locker."

Chief Esposito had shown Abe the device they were going to use. It was a glass lens that had been fitted into the end of a flexible metal-sheathed cable no thicker than his little finger. Abe had thought it looked like a toy, but the Chief had assured him that the camera was fully operational.

Abe's grip on his jacket tightened. "What did it show?"

"Nothing."

"I thought you said it was working."

"It is. It showed an empty room."

"Matthew is not there?"

"No."

A small and cowardly part of Abe was relived – he didn't want to see the image of Matthew that haunted him made real – but the relief was quickly submerged by worry. They still didn't know where Matthew was. "Does this mean the raid on the base is off?"

"Not entirely. It's an option of last resort if we don't locate Matthew by Friday. There might be documents or other evidence there that could lead us to him."

"What do we do now?"

"We wait."

"For the next drop to be set up," Abe said. "I'll be a diversion, just as we discussed this afternoon."

Finn was silent.

"I'm going to do it, Finn. I trust Commander Anston. He doesn't strike me as a careless man."

"He isn't. He is the best commanding officer I've served under. He hasn't lost anyone on his watch yet."

"He seemed angry. I hope you didn't get into trouble because of me."

"Ghost believes in doling out lessons more than punishment. He didn't relieve me of duty, he clarified my orders."

"What orders?"

"He told me, he's trusting me to put my personal feelings aside and keep you safe within the mission parameters." His arm brushed Abe's as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "It would have been easier if he had just reassigned me."

"If that's what you'd like, I could talk to him myself."

"You know what I'd like, Abe." Finn's voice was rough as it cut through Abe's. "You know and Ghost knows. Hell, everyone on the team can see that I can't keep my hands off you."

Finn wasn't touching Abe. He was merely standing beside him in the darkness of an October evening while crickets chirped in the weeds and the starlight gleamed from the cracked windshields of the wrecks beyond the junkyard fence. There was nothing romantic about the situation.

Yet every nerve in his body was attuned to Finn: his warmth and his scent. He didn't want Finn to keep his hands off him.

Abe shouldn't be relying on Finn's touch. He was growing too accustomed to him as it was. What was going to happen when Finn left?

The same thing that had happened the last time he had fallen in love with the wrong man. His heart would break but he would go one. Older, wiser and more cautious than before...

Oh, God. In love? He couldn't be in love with Finn. These feelings had developed too fast. Finn was completely wrong for him. It was the stress, that's all: a combination of adrenaline and proximity resulting in lust.

"You were right, before, Abe," Finn said. "I wasn't thinking objectively this afternoon. I have a problem doing that when it comes to you."

"What does..." Abe hesitated. "What did you mean by the mission parameters?"

"It's my responsibility to get you through the mission unharmed and return you home as soon as it's over."

"And then?"

"We let the diplomats handle the fallout from the kidnapping. The Nighthawks part in this will be finished, so we will go back to base."

Right. Abe would go back to his life and Finn would go back to his. Well, he had wanted Finn to be honest.

Another silence fell between them, this one much longer than the last. Abe tipped his head to follow the progress of another plane, trying to remind himself of the real world, his worlds, the one that lay a few miles away.

"That's Perseus."

"The type of plane?"

"The constellation. I thought that was what you were looking at."

Abe focused on the stars, grateful to have something else to think about. "I don't recognize much than the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. Where is Perseus?"

Finn took his hand from his pocket and lifted one arm to point overhead. "It's roughly in the shape of a K. that curved line of stars forms the left leg."

"Oh."

Finn pointed higher. "That star is Agol. It represents the head of Medusa that Perseus is holding."

"It's bright, even through the city haze."

"It's a binary. The smaller star eclipse the larger one every three days so the brightness varies. It's..." he paused. "Are you getting cold? Do you want to go in?"

"No. I'm fine. Show me something else."

Finn moved behind Abe and took his shoulders in his hands to reposition him. Abe closed his eyes, drinking in the brief contact and the sensation of Finn's body behind his.

"Andromeda is the double line of stars north of Perseus."

Abe blinked and looked up. "You surprise me, Finn. I wouldn't have guessed that you'd be an amateur astronomer."

"Why not?"

"It seems a bit... tame for your taste."

"It's something I picked up when I was a kid. It comes in useful when I don't have a compass."

"Matthew wants to be an astronaut."

"Yeah. I remember."

"Why did you decide to join the Army?"

"Because I get seasick and so I couldn't join the Navy."

Abe turned to face him. "No flip answers anymore okay, Finn You said you'd tell me the truth."

There was a pause. "All right, Abe. You deserve nothing less. The truth is, except the sports teams, I never liked school much. I went to college on a basketball scholarship, but being stuck in a classroom put me to sleep. The morning of my graduation I saw an army recruiting video at the mall and decided that was a challenge I'd enjoy, so I packed my bag and didn't look back."

"Just like that? So fast?"

"What's the use for waiting around once you have made your choice?"

Of course. That's the way Finn was. Straight-ahead decisive and to the point. "Weren't your parents concerned about the risks you would face in the military?"

"My father didn't know I had enlisted until I was halfway through my first tour. He was in the Philippines on some drilling project when my letter caught up with him. He's an exploration geologist so he's never in one place for long."

"What about your mother? Wasn't she at your graduation?"

"I was six the last time I saw her." Finn kept his gaze on the stars and continued to speak with no trace of emotion in his voice. "There were a couple of stepmothers with kids of their own over the years, but my father was between wives at the time I signed up."

Abe wanted to hold Finn. He looked at the tall, proud, soldier Finn had become and saw the vulnerable child with no roots and no family. He felt his perspective shift. Finn had had a father who traveled, a mother who had left him, and a succession of broken homes. It fit. This was why he avoided commitment. This was why Finn had once said that the Nighthawks were his family. This was probably why the sight of the Ibru family's love for each other had hit him so hard.

There's a big difference between what we want and what we can have. That's what Finn had told him. Finn had said he had learned that lesson a long time ago.

Abe wondered if he would wish for real love and a family of his own if he hadn't grown up surrounded by examples of it? How different would his dreams have been if he'd had a childhood like Finn's? He might have armored himself with wit, the way Finn had. He might have buried his idealism and vowed to seize the pleasure of the moment.

Abe realized Finn's interest in astronomy wasn't so surprising after all. He lifted his hand to Finn's cheek. "You like the stars because they don't change," he said. "Your father kept leaving, you had different mothers, but you could count on the stars."

Finn nodded and brushed his mouth over Abe's palm. "Yeah. Stars don't leave. They are always right where you left them."

Abe's pulse thudded at Finn's caress. He rubbed his thumb over Finn's lower lip. "Show me more, Finn."

Finn nipped the tip of Abe's thumb lightly with his teeth. His eyes gleamed as he moved his gaze from the stars to Abe's face. "Do you see the pentagon shape over my shoulder?"

Abe glanced past him, trying to spot the pattern in the points of light. "Yes, I think so."

"That's Auriga, The Charioteer." Finn grasped Abe's hips and eased him against him. His words became a whisper, blending with the breeze on Abe's cheek. "The bright star at the bottom corner of is Capella. I could see that from inside the warehouse the night I stood watch while you showered."

The breadth of Finn's shoulder blocked Abe's view of the constellation. He gave up the pretense of looking and put his hands on Finn's arms. "You didn't have to stand watch. Sandra had a sign for the door."

"I know. I wanted to be sure no one else got to see you nipples."

Abe's fingers tightened Finn's biceps.

"I got a good look at you that first day at your apartment," he murmured. "It must have been the cold that was making your nipples pucker that way, but I couldn't forget. I still can't forget."

"Finn..."

"I concentrated on identifying stars while I listened to you shower so I wouldn't keep picturing you naked. It didn't work then and it's not working now." Finn moved his hands to Abe's waist and brought him close. He held Abe there for a long moment. "Maybe you should talk to Ghost after all. Ask him to assign someone else to you, Abe."

"Why, Finn?"

"Because every time I see you, every time I hear the caring in your voice, I want you more. But you have told me what you want, Abe, and I can't give it to you."

Abe parted his lips. He wasn't sure how to reply.

Before he could make a sound, the warehouse door opened. Esposito's bald head gleamed in the starlight as he strode across the pavement and toward them.

Finn set Abe down and angled his body in front of his. "What is it, Chief?"

"We need Mr. Locke inside, Braveheart. We've got trouble."

Next: Chapter 12


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