CHAPTER 3

Peter Wood — Four Months Earlier

PETER WOOD WAS AN Army communications expert and translator. Fluent in several languages, he was a valuable asset to the military. His new assignment to Special Unit 8 was the reward for eight years of hard work and dedication. He was now an elite member of the command unit in charge of overseeing the operations of several special ops units. For him, it was the dream of a lifetime — until it turned into a nightmare.

He had been with SU8 for six months. The day had started fairly normally; General Sherah had left a stack of files on his desk with specific orders attached to each one. His job was to review the files and then forward them to the proper department for action. It was while looking through several files that he overheard two soldiers discussing the assassination of a Mid-Eastern sheik. Peter remembered hearing the news reports, but hadn't thought much about them. Someone was always trying to kill heads-of-states.

The unit insignia on their uniform was what attracted his attention more than the conversation. They were members of SU33. Although under the command of General Sherah, the unit was operated by Colonel Cranley. He was known for his no-nonsense attitude and his harsh discipline. No one disobeyed him. SU33 was the elite of the elite. As such, even General Sherah seemed to take very little interest in the unit's operations. Complaints were forward to Colonel Cranley, an unusual procedure.

One soldier was leaning casually against a wall near the swinging door, his arms folded across his chest.

"He should have given me that assignment," he said. "I'd have finished the job."

The other man laughed and slapped his companion on the shoulder. "Bullshit, Andy. You need to look in a mirror. You couldn't have gotten within twenty miles of the sheik or his daughter."

"You ever hear of hair dye?"

"Yeah. The problem is you don't have any hair. They'd have spotted you —"

The soldier named Andy suddenly stopped talking and stared at Peter.

Aware that he had been caught eavesdropping, Peter swallowed nervously. He knew he needed to do something to explain his interest in them.

"Hi," he said. Andy nodded. The other man stared at him coolly. "I noticed you're with SU33 and, well, I was hoping to try out for that unit. I know it's hard to get in and was wondering if you could give me any pointers."

Andy relaxed slightly. Turning to his companion, he murmured something. Both laughed.

"I don't think you're ready for that yet," Andy said, running his eyes over Peter's slender frame. "You look a little... skinny. There's no way you'd be able to carry one of us if we were injured."

Peter blushed. Although he had no desire to join any other Special Forces unit, the mocking hurt.

"I'm stronger than I look," he snapped.

"Sure you are, mate," the other man said. Peter knew he was simply trying to placate him. "If you're serious about joining 33, do some bodybuilding. No one'll take you seriously unless you put on muscle."

"Yeah," Andy agreed. "Thirty more pounds and you just might make it... that is, if you can pass the rest of the program. Most guys can't even make it through Hell month. Umm, by the way, it's a requirement that you speak at least four languages. Do you speak any others?"

Peter realized he was being interrogated, albeit subtly.

"Oh sure. French, Spanish, German, Italian and Mandarin," he said proudly.

"Six languages. I'm impressed! How fluent are you in them?"

"Very."

"Good for you. Any others that you aren't so fluent in?"

"Plenty," Peter replied, making it sound like a joke. "One day I hope to add Japanese and Russian, but I don't have time to take classes."

Patting him on the shoulder, the soldier nodded to his companion.

"Well, it's been good talking to you. By the way, what's your name?"

"Peter."

"Well, Peter, we have to go. Put on muscle and maybe we'll see you in a couple of years."

Before Peter could reply, they turned and left. Peter could hear them talking as they walked but didn't catch the words. The look Andy gave him, as the two left the room, wasn't reassuring.