Forgotten: Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers, #5

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Table of Contents

The Novel

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Acknowledgments

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For the over 3000 women and children held as sex slaves by ISIS, and those risking their lives to save them.

[Successful are the believers] who guard their chastity, except from their wives or (the captives and slaves) that their right hands possess, for then they are free from blame.

Koran 23:5-6

There is no dispute among the scholars that it is permissible to capture unbelieving women [who are characterized by] original unbelief [kufr asli], such as the kitabiyat [women from among the People of the Book, i.e. Jews and Christians] and polytheists.

Pamphlet entitled: Questions and Answers on Taking Captives and Slaves

Research and Fatwa Department of the Islamic State (ISIS)

PREFACE

This book deals with the very sickening reality facing thousands of young women in ISIS-controlled territory—life as a sex slave. While this book does not delve into graphic sexual detail—I don’t think any of us need to suffer through those images—it does deal with the fact this is actually occurring, on a scale unprecedented in modern human history.

It is estimated at least 3000 young women, some just girls as young as eight, are being systematically raped by ISIS soldiers and supporters, with some estimates as high as 25,000. Auctions to sell them off are held on a regular basis, with the younger girls fetching a higher price. ISIS has even issued a manual outlining the rules for owning sex slaves, an officially endorsed practice condoned by the Koran.

This is ridiculous, yet is rarely spoken about, perhaps because the vast majority of victims are Yazidis, and the perpetrators are Muslim, a group the media and too many government administrations have for some reason chosen to forgive when it comes to transgressions like these. If it were Russians raping thousands of women on a constant basis, would it be ignored? Or Chinese? Or what if it were Jews?

I think not.

This book’s subject matter should enrage you.

I know writing it did me.

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ISIS Held Territory

Outside Thawrah, Syria

"Dude, you weigh a ton!"

I’m the way my momma made me.

Sergeant Carl Niner Sung grunted as he helped the muscled frame of his buddy, Sergeant Leon Atlas James, toward the Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk that had just touched down. Gunfire peppered the area, several rounds pinging off the reinforced skin of the chopper as mortar rounds slammed into the ground around them. This entire mission had been a Charlie-Foxtrot, and now Atlas had taken a round to the ass, something Niner intended to tease him mercilessly about over the coming days.

To say this mission was a mess was an understatement, though they were Bravo Team, part of what the public liked to call Delta Force, officially known as 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment—Delta. They were the best America had to offer, the highest trained Special Forces in the world, sent where their country needed them, usually with the public never knowing what they had done.

Except for those Chuck Norris movies. Awesome!

He looked up as another Apache helicopter passed overhead, its weapons pods opening up on the approaching enemy, but there were too many. The city they had been in was an armed camp, and it appeared everyone had decided to get in on the fun.

RPG!

Niner spun toward where Sergeant Will Spock Lightman was pointing, and cursed, the rocket-propelled grenade streaking toward them in a lazy sideways arc. Oh shit! Let’s move! He shoved Atlas into the chopper, two of the crew hauling him inside, he and Spock following. Niner turned, urging their lead on the mission, Master Sergeant Mike Red Belme, forward. It felt like slow motion, but Red pushed toward the helicopter, his legs pumping, hunched over as gunfire continued to streak across the battlefield.

The grenade hit.

The explosion was massive, knocking Niner backward, his head smacking on the metal floor of the Black Hawk’s cabin. He shook his head, disoriented for a moment, then jumped back up. Red! The chopper lifted off and Niner rushed toward the open door. We have to go back!

The pilot glanced over his shoulder. Negative. The position is overrun. We go back, we all die.

Niner stood in the doorway, peering through the dust and debris from the explosion, dozens of ISIS fighters swarming their former position.

And closed his eyes as he spotted the body of his friend in a twisted heap, surrounded by the enemy.

Dead.

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Todd Residence

Queens, New York City, New York

One Week Earlier

"You’re a fool!"

Mary Todd glared at her father. "Yeah, well you’re an old fool!"

Don’t you dare talk to your father that way!

Mary redirected her aim at her mother. Christ, Mom, you always take his side!

You obviously haven’t been paying attention, then, dear.

Mary’s dad grunted. She clearly hasn’t been paying attention to anything I’ve been saying, or to the news.

She leaned forward, her head jutting out, her chin extended, her fists clenched in frustration. But I have been! That’s exactly why I’m going! Don’t you see? I have to do something. I can’t just sit by and wait for some news report that might never come! Somebody has to do something about it!

Her mother clasped her hands in front of her mouth. "But why you, sweetie? Why do you have to be the one? Let a man do it!"

Mary’s jaw dropped, her eyes bulging. "I can’t believe you just said that! I thought you were a feminist! Always telling me there’s nothing a man can do that a woman can’t do just as well. Now you’re telling me to let a man do it! Are you kidding me?"

Her mother’s hands dropped to her waist, still clasped together. This is different, honey! I can’t believe you can’t see that!

Oh, I see it perfectly well. All that talk of me going places and accomplishing great things was just BS. If Bobby was going, you wouldn’t try to talk him out of it!

Her mother’s mouth opened wide for a moment before words erupted. Of course we would! But that’s different.

"Why? Because he’s a boy and I’m just a girl?"

Exactly! Her father threw his arms up. My God, I thought I raised an intelligent young woman, but you’re acting like a naïve little moron! You want to fly to Turkey, sneak across the border into ISIS held territory, and try to find proof that your friends were kidnapped and sold as sex slaves, rather than let the government handle it! How stupid do you have to be to not realize that if you get caught, you’ll become a sex slave yourself?

I’ll never let that happen.

Her father spun on his heel, heading toward her bedroom door before spinning again. And just how are you going to stop it?

What? I’m not strong enough? I’m a black belt in karate!

A hell of a lot of good that will do! They have guns and you’ll be just one person.

I’ll go with her.

Bobby! Mary leaped from the edge of her bed and hugged her brother, not having heard him arrive home.

Their father jabbed a finger at them. No, under no circumstances are you going. And neither is your sister.

Mary smiled up at her brother, squeezing him tight. She turned to her father. We’re both adults. We can do what we want, and you can’t stop us.

If you go then don’t come back! You’ll no longer be welcome in this house! If you’re going to throw away the life we gave you, then you aren’t the children we thought we had.

William!

Her father held up a hand, silencing her mother. I mean it! You go out that door, you’re cut off!

Fine! I don’t care. You’re always saying we’re broke, so we’ll leave and save you some money. You’ve always said we should earn our own way, so we will. After today you won’t have to worry about supporting us anymore. She glared at her father, her chest heaving.

Her brother’s calm voice broke the stunned silence. Okay, how about everyone take a deep breath and calm down. Mary’s right, Dad, we’re both adults. She’s going to go and try to help her friends. I’m going to go to try and protect her. I’ve got some money saved. Everything works on bribes over there, so we’ll be okay.

Her father grunted and headed for the door. You’re both morons.

Daddy!

Her father stopped, always having a soft spot for her when she called him Daddy instead of Dad.

Please, can I have a hug before I leave?

Her mother rushed forward, grabbing them both and squeezing hard, her shoulders racked with sobs. Oh God, please be careful!

She stared past her mother at her father, who watched them over his shoulder, his back still facing them. He glared at Bobby then left the room, heading toward his den. She broke free of her mother and stepped into the hall, her voice cracking. Daddy!

But he didn’t stop. His shoulders shook and she heard a stifled sob escape as the door to his sanctuary closed.

Her mother joined her in the hall, taking her arm. You’ll have to forgive your father. You know what he’s like.

She sniffed hard, squaring her shoulders as she searched for her resolve, shaken by the knowledge she had genuinely hurt her father. Well, if he doesn’t want to say goodbye, then that’s his choice. I could die out there, and he’ll have to live with the fact that our last conversation was a fight where he refused to even give his daughter a hug.

Mary!

Her stomach flipped at the venom in her own voice, it shocking not just her mother. She stepped back in her bedroom and grabbed her backpack, jammed with everything she figured she would need for her trip. She gave her mother one final hug then turned to Bobby. Are you sure you want to do this?

He nodded. Somebody has to look out for you. Let’s go to my place and grab some things. He gave his mother a hug. "Love you, Mom. And tell Dad we forgive him."

Mary glared at Bobby for a moment then sighed. Fine. She took one final look at her room, the only home she really remembered.

And was overwhelmed with a sense she’d never see it again.

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Turkish-Syrian Border

Three days later

Bobby shivered in the cold of the night. They had been hiding for more than an hour, the instructions his sister had received before leaving New York telling them to wait at these GPS coordinates for their contact to arrive. How she had received these instructions had been a source of constant frustration for him. He was desperate to know who had told her to come here, and she stubbornly refused to tell him. It had been a sore point between them since they had arrived.

Their trip had been uneventful, both of age, both Americans, both with valid passports, there no reason for anyone to question them. They were here on vacation, brother and sister, to explore the wonders Turkey had to offer. And with the country on edge since the coup attempt, it was eager for tourism to resume, to restore some sense of normalcy to the troubled nation.

Unlike his sister, he was fully aware of the world’s problems. He had spent the past few days bringing her up to speed on the region, the problems, the reality of ISIS, pretending to assume she already knew everything he was saying, merely recapping what they both already knew. He had hoped if she knew the dangers, if she heard it from someone other than their father, she might realize what she was doing was foolish. He had no intention of crossing the border. When their contact arrived, he would put an end to this once and for all.

Are you sure you want to do this?

Yes.

Despite everything you know about this place.

Yes.

Why?

She stared at him. Because of my friends. I need to know what happened to them.

He frowned. I looked into that, you know. There’s been nothing on the news.

She shrugged. The news doesn’t know everything.

But you do?

She grunted. More than them in this case.

How do you know they’re here? If they were kidnapped as sex slaves, how could you know that?

She didn’t answer, and his train of thought had his stomach in knots. You don’t know, do you? This is all a smoke screen for something. What’s going on, Mary?

There they are.

Mary rose, pointing to a shadow bouncing along the horizon, the vehicle’s lights off.

Mary, tell me what’s going on.

All you need to know is that I’m going and you’re not.

A pickup truck skidded to a halt in front of them, two men climbing out, their expressions in the moonlight anything but pleased, one pointing at his sister’s bare legs and shouting something in Arabic.

I don’t think he likes your clothes.

As-salam alaykum, my brothers.

Wa alaykum e-salam, sister.

Sister? And how does she speak Arabic?

He tensed. When did you learn Arabic?

She laughed. "I didn’t. It’s like saying bonjour in French."

The driver reached into the truck and tossed a bundle at her. You wear this while you’re with us.

Mary unwrapped the bundle, Bobby gasping when he realized what it was.

A burqa.

He watched in horror as she willingly donned the symbol of female oppression so many in the West who were Muslim apologists claimed was a religious symbol, though wasn’t at all, it instead cultural.

Who are you?

Bobby turned his attention to the driver. I’m her brother.

The man waved his hand in front of him. Not part of deal.

Bobby bristled. He hadn’t intended to go, though that was when it was his choice. He’d be damned if this man was going to tell him what he could and couldn’t do. Where she goes, I go.

No! No! No! the driver fired rapidly. She will be living with us. You, there will be too many questions.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed.

Living?

Something was going on. If I’m not going, then neither is she.

But I have to!

Bobby stared at his sister, unrecognizable, anonymous in her burqa.

It’ll be okay, Bobby. Don’t worry.

No, it won’t. He lowered his voice, leaning closer. How can you trust these people?

We go now, or deal off.

But you’ve already been paid!

What, you think there is money back guarantee? You the problem, not us. He stays, you come, or no one come. Don’t care. We paid either way.

Mary looked at Bobby, only her eyes visible, eyes that were pleading with him. I’m going.

Don’t do this!

She stepped back. I thought you were on my side!

I am, but Mom and Dad are right. This is insane!

So what, all this time you’ve been lying to me? You were just going to try and convince me not to go?

He frowned, not sure how to answer. He decided a white lie was better. No, I was coming to protect you, but now that they won’t let me come, then yes, I’m going to try and convince you not to go.

There was a definite harrumph from behind the face covering. Well, it’s no use. I have to go.

What? To find your friends? Then what? Who comes to find you?

She leaped forward, hugging him hard, and he couldn’t help but return the embrace, tears filling his eyes. You worry too much, she whispered in his ear. I’ll be okay. She broke the embrace, grabbed her backpack, and hurried to the truck, tossing it in the back. She blew him a kiss then climbed into the front of the truck, sitting in the middle as the driver climbed in after her. The passenger made a display of eyeing her as she climbed in then gave Bobby a lecherous grin as he rounded the front of the truck, licking his lips suggestively.

Mary, no!

Bobby sprinted toward the truck as the passenger climbed in, gravel kicked up at him as the truck roared away. He chased them for a few moments but soon stopped, it hopeless.

Oh, God, Mary, what have you gotten yourself into?

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One Court Square

Queens, New York City, New York

William Todd released the run trigger, the upright floor polisher hopping to a halt. He leaned and stretched his aching back, digging the palm of his hand into the small of his spine, grinding it in a semi-circle. It did little good, merely transferring the pain to his also sore arms. He sighed, gripping the handles of the polisher and squeezing the trigger, the rhythmic motion beginning anew, a motion he was so sick of, he’d consider throwing himself out one of these windows if they weren’t sealed in like sardines.

He hated his job.

And he really hated the fact he had been doing it for over ten years.

They used to have a good life in Detroit before the auto