Soldiers and Secrets

By E. Jon Gant

Captain Damascus just wanted a quiet beer. If she hadn’t chosen that bar, then the lower-rank would not have picked a fight with her. The captain would not have been demoted to second lieutenant. There would not have been the pain and shame she had never known.
Re-assignment -
Captain Anthony. Tough, but fair. Her new commanding officer.
A new friend.

A new love -
Angela White.
Corporal. Same platoon.
Eyebrows raised.

The mission - missing scientists. Expedition destroyed - one survivor.
A survivor with a strange ability.
A false-flag officer, sent in to kill in order to preserve a secret, and willing to do so without a second thought, without hesitation.

With a former lover on the loose, an armed to the teeth and psychopathic, out to destroy her world forever one, could she save her friends?
With her friends dying around her, maybe a better question was could she save herself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blazing Heart Publishing
• Release date: Sep 13, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463468067

Book preview

PUBLISHED BY:

BLAZING HEART PUBLISHING

https://www.blazingheartpub.com

Soldiers and Secrets

© 2018 by E. Jon Gant

ISBN: 978-0-46346-806-7

First Blazing Publication: August 2018

Cover Art by GJAL for Blazing Heart Publishing

Copyright © 2018 by Blazing Heart Publishing.

Edited By: Blazing Heart Publishing

Proofed By: Tanja Ongkiehong

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photocopy reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

DEDICATION

Jane, for all of her bludgeoning support of my writing.

Jon Corbett, my English teacher at Rye, 77-78, for his support and encouragement.

My mum, just for being my mum.

Jackie Larkin, for her friendship and permitting the use of herself as a template for Damascus. It’s here, Jack. It has finally arrived.

GJAL, for the great cover art. Thank you.

Biggest of all goes to Heather, my wife, my precious, who, as a practising dyslexic, has great patience with all of this. If I had to write down what you mean to me, baby, it would take up double the space of this novel, maybe more. For sticking by me through good times and bad – thank you. I love you, my darling.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Copyright Page

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

About Author

Part One – The Mission

Chapter One

Captain Jacqueline Damascus was at the bar, quietly sipping at the beer, when someone pushed her shoulder from behind. The beer slopped from the glass, and she put it down, stood, and turned.

The soldier was grinning at her, a look in his eyes she knew too well. She tilted her head slowly, no hint of a smile on her face.

Would you like to apologise, soldier?

Why?

Why? Because you are a soldier, who has just spilt a lady’s drink. A captain’s drink, too. You are supposed to be a gentleman. Maybe you’re not, in which case, you’re not much of a soldier, either. Now, if you’ll say sorry, I’ll forget all about it.

The soldier looked around, smiled back at Damascus.

You want me to apologise? To a girl lover?

Damascus nodded. I see. Your problem is a fairly basic intolerance of the fact that I am a bisexual, yes?

In one.

Okay. You’d prefer it if I made love with the boys, just like you do?

God, you’re a bitch.

She blocked the move, brushing the backhanded slap away, followed through with the heel of a hand to the centre of the man’s chest.

He staggered back, fell.

The bar went silent.

If you want some more, I will see you outside. Damascus flexed the fingers of her right hand. After ten minutes, the offer is closed, I am out of here, and you lose your chance. Settle it here and now.

Damascus stepped out of the bar into the street. The soldier trotted out behind her, brushing some imaginary dust from his arms and shoulders, flexing his arms, balling his fists.

He turned to the crowd following him out, grinned widely, and faced Damascus again. Whenever you are ready, girl lover.

Your move, soldier boy.

He powered a fist towards her face, hitting nothing but air as she stepped aside. He turned to her, his face twisting with anger and hate, and slammed another fist towards her.

Damascus brushed it aside, turned, and shoved an elbow into the man’s ribs. He staggered against a wall, swore. You’re in serious trouble, now. You can back off here. I’ll say no more about it. If you wish to continue, you are committed.

To what?

To whichever way it goes from now on.

You can’t hit me. You’re an officer.

Okay. Walk away and leave it. You started this. I am simply defending myself. Nothing more will be said if you decide to walk away from this. You want to carry on, whatever happens, happens. If you want to drag this out to its inevitable end, then go for it.

What is its inevitable end?

You end up in the crap.

Why only me?

I’ve already told you. God, you’re stupid for a soldier. You want to hit me, so hit me!

Again, the fist swung at her head, and Damascus stepped back. As she did, she lifted her left foot from the ground and slammed it into the soldier’s right knee. All colour dropped from his face, and he fell, curling into the fetal position.

There was the sound of an electric car pulling up behind her, and she turned, saw the military police contingent pulling out. Their commander looked at her.

I received a call saying there was trouble here. What is going on?

I have just assaulted this soldier. You can arrest me, now.

No, it’s all right…

What? The commander tilted his head to the right, frowning.

I have just assaulted this soldier. Arrest me.

You want me to arrest you?

If you allow me to walk free, I shall kick this soldier so damned hard, he will not wake up for a week. Maybe longer.

That does it. You, Captain…

Damascus.

Captain Damascus, you are under arrest for assault. Get in the car.

You will not need the binders. I am not going to do anything stupid.

Anything else stupid.

As I said, anything stupid.

Damascus dipped her head slightly as she got into the car. When the door closed and they were just about to move off, she turned, looked at the soldier on the ground and smiled. The soldier didn’t.

They are ready for you, now.

Damascus rose from the seat, waited until the squad formed around her, and watched as the commander tapped on the door, and swung it open. As they entered, they spread out, leaving Damascus at the mercy of the two men behind the big table. Her blank expression gave no hint of what she was feeling inside. Which was fortunate.

She swallowed the lump which had appeared in her throat.

Captain Damascus, we have heard and read depositions from yourself and the other soldier involved in this, as well as numerous others from witnesses. Before we pronounce judgement, do you have anything else to add to this?

Damascus sighed. I don’t believe I have anything else to add at this point. If I say any more, I run the risk of repeating myself, and that will help neither you nor me.

Very well. The figure glanced at the other, nodded. Such an act of violence by a commissioned officer is not acceptable, and is generally punishable by expulsion. However, from your testimony and those of others, there are enough extenuating circumstances to avoid that measure. Nevertheless, this cannot be allowed to pass without some kind of visible punishment, simply to act as a deterrent towards others. Due to this, and this only, it has been decided to reduce you two ranks. You will be second lieutenant, transferring to a company in Portsmouth. We can offer you two weeks of extraordinary leave, which will be in addition to your current entitlement. Do you wish for us to make your travel arrangements, or can you make your own?

I have my own transport.

Very well. Do you have anything else to say?

No.

Very well. In conclusion, all we can add is that this action was not taken lightly. You were provoked, but you gave the other party the opportunity to…

Sir?

Yes?

Is it necessary to say this?

No. I don’t really think it is.

Then, may I leave?

Yes.

Thank you.

She turned to leave and was stopped by the voice.

Captain?

That’s lieutenant.

Leave the jacket, please. It will be returned to you tomorrow morning.

She slipped the jacket off, draped it over the back of a chair. Turning, she left the room, her humiliation complete.

An hour later, she stepped out of the shower, picked up a towel, and gave herself a cursory dry-off. She looked around without really seeing anything.

Finishing off, she found the locker key, opened the door, and fished out her fatigues. Less than half a minute later, she was dressed and hungry.

Somehow, it seemed criminal to take such a downturn in her career and still be hungry. Still, it wouldn’t be denied and it proved she was still human. As if any more proof was really necessary.

* * * *

Conspicuous by her solitude, Damascus dug into the food on her plate with a gusto she didn’t know she still had. As much as she tried to bury herself in the pleasure of eating, she could still feel the eyes.

The eyes of her former company's members. The eyes of her friends. The eyes of the soldier’s friends, no doubt locked on her something rather less than sympathetically.

Paranoia.

Maybe.

If she was just paranoid, why was she sitting there on her own, eating food she had no real mental appetite for, drinking coffee she did not really want? It was less like paranoia, and more like the truth.

Reduced in the ranks.

Two of them.

How humiliating.

Her new posting would know all about this by now, of course. She couldn’t wait to see her new captain’s face when she turned up in Portsmouth.

Captain! The word made her feel physically sick, and she pushed the plate of food away.

Appetite destroyed.

No trace left.

Mission end.

She could not believe her life had undergone such a radical shift in so short a space of time.

At least she was still a soldier.

There was always that. She glanced at the time, shook her head.

Time to get going. She wanted to be ready to run as soon as the new jacket arrived tomorrow morning.

She had a bag to pack.

Chapter Two

Damascus pulled the motorcycle to a halt outside the block of flats, cut the engine, stepped out of the machine. As she did, she glanced at the single-bedroom house tucked in behind it. She nodded.

Securing the motorcycle, she checked her watch, nodded, and walked down the side road towards the house. As she closed in, she saw someone standing by the door. Seeing her, the figure walked slowly towards her.

Miss Damascus?

Yes.

Jeff Michaels. Letting agent. Nice to meet you.

Yeah, you, too. Shall we take a look?

Follow me.

Michaels unlocked the door, led the way in. It has everything you specified. Single bedroom, minimal kitchen, no garden. May I ask..?

I’m a soldier. Going to Portsmouth. I don’t wish to stay on base unless it is absolutely necessary. Also, I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.

Ah. Understood.

Any particular notice period you require if I leave?

A month will be sufficient.

Okay.

Kitchen - small, enough for one.

Bedroom, bathroom, sitting room – all fine just for one.

She nodded. Good enough. I’ll take it.

Excellent. How soon would you like to move in?

Now.

The agent’s eyebrows shot up, he blinked twice, then tilted his head slightly to one side. Okay. Here are the numbers for the comm set up…

I won’t be needing it. I’ll be using my own equipment.

Very well. Electricity and gas supply are by key…

Look, I’m sorry to sound impatient, but can we just get the paperwork completed?

Of course.

Twenty minutes later, Damascus was alone in the flat, the keys in her pocket. She took the electronic diary from her pocket, checked the time of her appointment.

She nodded. Twenty-one hours to go.

Time to get herself a few home comforts. Like a bed. Bring the motorcycle up to the front door, get her possessions out of the panniers and top box. Find her computer, make the orders she needed.

It was all a go.

* * * *

Captain David Anthony lay back in the chair, breathing slowly and deeply, trying to relax. His closed eyes and air of apparent calm did much to give the impression he wanted to show - an in-control captain.

The funeral had stressed him out. While it was supposedly a family affair, Anthony had been invited because he was the soldier’s commanding officer.

Second Lieutenant Paul Williams had been an excellent soldier, destined to go a long way, when he had been killed in by a landmine.

Anthony shook his head. Mines! For God’s sake, the use of mines had been outlawed a very, very long time ago. It was only people like drug barons who were still using them to protect themselves and their properties from the forces of law and order.

Why?

His replacement was looking like a problem. Former captain. Good skill level, high marks in many subjects. In some ways, a good copy of Paul. Not better or worse, just different. He was hoping she would slot in quickly, finding her own place, not simply as a replacement. From her record, she looked tough enough to do just that.

But she was a demoted captain.

He hoped he was right, despite the demotion and the reason it was given. She must have been provoked really badly to put the soldier down like that, but if she had been insulted, then perhaps it was justifiable. He hoped her presence was not going to be a problem.

He hoped her sexuality was not going to be a problem.

* * * *

Angela White dismounted the bus, and walked the twenty yards to the main gate. She smiled.

Hey.

Angela. The young soldier smiled. Man, it seems an age you’ve been away.

It’s only been a fortnight, Derek.

Any time I don’t see you is an age, you know that.

She smiled. Look, Derek. I’ve told you many times already. I like you. You’re a real nice guy, but you don’t do anything for me.

You do loads for me. You have done since the first time I saw you walk through these gates.

I know. Sorry.

Not as sorry as I am. He picked a small silver box from his back pocket. Smile for the retina scan.

Angela looked into the beam of red light, watched as Derek nodded.

According to this, you are Angela White.

Are you going to let me in, then?

I suppose I’d better.

Thank you very much.

The gate shimmered out of existence, and the girl walked through. As she walked into the base, Derek shook his head. That is all woman.

Forget it, boy. His partner, an older soldier by the name of Barry something, smiled slightly. She’s not interested, never will be. Keep it to yourself, but the general feeling on the base is there’s nothing any man can do for that girl.

What? For a moment, the younger soldier was confused, then his eyes went wide. You mean she’s…

Hey, I don’t start the rumours. I just report them.

What a bloody waste.

He shook his head, and turned back to the gate as a motorcycle pulled up. The guard nodded.

ID, please.

He examined the card as the driver handed it to him. The hair was a little longer than in the picture, but the eyes were still the same arresting shade of grey.

Good morning, Lieutenant. You are expected. Captain Anthony has asked me to direct you to the Officers’ Quarters. Straight ahead, and then turn to the right at the top. Follow the signs.

Thank you very much.

Damascus gunned the engine, followed the directions, and parked in a space that did not appear to be assigned. Securing the machine, she glanced at a sign and headed for the Officers’ Quarters.

As she entered the building, she almost collided with two soldiers, coming in the opposite direction.

Uh… sorry, Lieutenant.

Take a little more care on the corners… she checked the name tag. Travis. First rule of road sense.

Yes, ma’am.

Damascus checked the girl’s tag. White, A.

As you were.

Thank you, Lieutenant.

The salutes were sharp, but as Damascus walked away, she did not see two pairs of eyes following her down the corridor.

Come on, Angela. Let’s go.

The girl just stood there.

Hey, soldier girl? Let’s go.

Okay.

A moment later, she moved, a frown creasing her forehead, her bright brown eyes troubled.

You all right, kid?

She looked at him sharply. Kid. I’m six months older than you, remember.

But six centimeters shorter, little girl.

I’m not so little.

I noticed.

He had noticed the way her breasts pushed at the front of her uniform the first day she had arrived. Since then, he had worshipped her from afar, not getting too close, trying to be a good friend, rather than inviting her into a bed. By any standards, she was beautiful, her eyes a bright, clear brown, her figure enough to turn any man’s head, her hair a beautiful deep gloss black. He would always think about her, would always wonder what it would feel like to remove her clothing, piece by piece, then hold her against himself, but he would never, ever let her know what he felt.

Life was too precious for that.

* * * *

Officers’ Quarters were empty, so Damascus placed her kitbag on the floor beside a small table, walked towards a drinks machine, tapped a button. She waited for the cup to fill, then took a sip, nodded.

Not bad.

She undid the buttons down the front of her jacket, placed her cap on the hat stand. Heading to the window, she stared out into the parade ground, her spare hand slipped into a pocket.

Not quite Academy stance, but comfortable.

Right now, she needed some comfort.

The parade ground was empty, the only occupant being a piece of paper drifting slowly across it on a breeze which had sprung up out of nowhere.

The breeze died, and the piece of paper, running out of energy, or willpower, slumped to the ground.

She didn’t want to be here. Not like this.

She was a captain, not anybody’s second in command.

This was just the most unbelievable bullshit...

The door swung open, and she turned. The man coming through the door was the best possible advertisement for a soldier. A little over one metre ninety tall, he was wide at the shoulders, narrow at the hip, and wore a tightly disciplined moustache. Eyes like dark blue lasers. Hands like shovels. Upper arm muscles threatening to rip his uniform apart.

She was relieved they were on the same side.

Good morning. Damascus?

Yes.

Good to meet you. I’m Lieutenant Andrew Richards. The handshake was firm, but her hand survived it. What’s your first name?

Jackie.

For the most part, we operate on first-names basis. Dave describes himself as firm but fair. Get it right, he’ll love you. Get it wrong, you’ll know about it. Are you familiar with what's expected of you?

Yes. I know the basics. What happened to my predecessor?

Volunteered for an operation in a country I’m not allowed to talk about. Found a landmine. What was left of him died three days later.

Damascus nodded. "He was a