Buried in Black Read online

  Buried in Black

  The fictional works of J.T. Patten do not constitute an official release of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), National Security Agency (NSA), or Department of Defense (DOD) information. All statements of fact, opinion, or analysis expressed are those of the author and do not reflect the official positions or views of the CIA or any other U.S. Government agency. Nothing in the contents should be construed as asserting or implying US Government authentication of information or CIA, NSA, or DOD endorsement of the author’s views. This material has been reviewed for classification.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Guide to acronyms, abbreviations, initials, and terms.

  Prelude

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Part II

  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

  Part III

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Look for the next Task Force Orange thriller,

  About the Author

  Buried in Black

  A Task Force Orange Novel

  J.T. Patten

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by J.T. Patten

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: November 2018

  eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0862-6

  eISBN-10: 1-5161-0862-0

  First Print Edition: November 2018

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0876-3

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0876-0

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To

  Mom

  You encouraged me to read, write, and dream

  Acknowledgements

  As always, I need to thank my wife, Shilpa, for being supportive of my writing, and my children who are equally as patient with my periodic time and focus creating stories. I know the laptop should not be an appendage wherever I go.

  A special thanks to my literary agent John Talbot who has always been forthcoming about where I need to be in this business, how to get there, and then putting this opportunity into motion.

  Thank you to the boss, Steven Zacharius who opened the Kensington Publishing doors to me as an “indie” and encouraged Gary Goldstein to have that first chat. Gary, I’ve learned more about publishing and writing in a year than I ever expected. Thanks for your patience, mentoring, and friendship.

  On the content front, it’s always good to be able to share ideas with others and to gain some technical insights. Thank you to Joe Goldberg who is always willing to work through a storyline over BBQ. Thanks to my speed dial buddy, Josh Hood, who is there 24/7 to spit ball concepts and to talk about book doctoring. To Mark Greaney who continues to push and encourage, and to my “authenticity” reach-back team of Michael Scadden, Dave Powers, Sean Page, Erik Wittreich, Jack Murphy, and Scotty Neil. I also greatly appreciate the honest feedback from my beta readers Bodo Pfündl and Kathleen Herrin, and The Real Book Spy, Ryan Steck for acknowledging my works (and progress).

  It takes a lot of help to kick one of these stories out, so thanks to anyone I’ve missed, and to the Thriller genre authors who have created such a powerful community to support and promote one another.

  Author’s Note

  My apologies.

  Unlike other novels, the story you are about to read is one of the few fictional works ever written that has been required to go through an extensive pre-publication review by multiple members of the Intelligence Community and select Department of Defense units.

  As a result, the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), the National Security Agency (NSA), and the Department of Defense (DOD) and its subcomponents weighed in on content and made suggested redactions even before the publisher could read a first draft. This allows me to uphold my public trust obligations that have protective controls to ensure that certain “equities”—or secrets—are not acknowledged, affirmed, or made known to anyone not authorized for such information. Even if such content may already be in the public domain.

  So, some even fictionalized details have been cut out and other terms have been replaced with creative code names. But here’s the fun part. Not many thriller writers have been involved with deep black Waived Unacknowledged Special Access Programs. While names, places, and things have been changed, the spirit of the forbidden world remains. You can’t sanitize the adrenaline, fear, patriotism, brotherhood, wins and loss that happen day by day in the shadows. And I believe that still comes through loud and clear.

  So, thank you for giving the Task Force Orange’s story a try. And welcome to a thriller that is, indeed, blacker than black.

  -JTP

  Guide to acronyms, abbreviations, initials, and terms.

  AFO – Advance Force Operations, A term used for low-visibility missions conducted by JSOC operators to prepare for possible future combat operations.

  AO – Area of Operation

  AOR – Area of Responsibility

  AQ – Al-Qaeda

  BBC – Baseball Card

  BDL – Bed Down Location

  CAG – Combat Applications Group, another term for Delta

  CELLEX - Cellular Exploitation

  CCO – Commercial Coverage Operative

  CIA – Central Intelligence Agency

  CONUS – Continental United States

  COMINT –
Communications Intelligence

  CoS – Chief of Station (CIA)

  CoS – Chief of Staff (White House)

  CT – Counterterrorism

  Daesh – Arabic language acronym for the Sulafi jihadist terrorist organization, Islamic State (IS)

  Delta – 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment Delta (1st SFOD-D), an elite special mission unit of the United States Army under operational control of JSOC

  DEVGRU – Abbreviation of Naval Special Warfare Development Group, a cover name for SEAL Team 6

  DHS – Department of Homeland Security

  DIA – Defense Intelligence Agency

  DOD – Department of Defense

  DOJ – Department of Justice

  DOMEX – Document and Media Exploitation

  E.O. – Executive Order

  F3EA – Find, Fix, Finish, Exploit/Analyze

  FBI – Federal Bureau of Investigation

  FMV – Full Motion Video

  Fort Bragg – Large Army post in Fayetteville, North Carolina, which is home to Delta Force and JSOC

  HUMINT – Human Intelligence

  IC – Intelligence Community

  IED – Improvised Explosive Device

  IMINT – Imagery Intelligence

  IRGC – Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps

  ISA – Intelligence Support Activity

  ISR – Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance

  Jackpot – JSOC term for a successful direct action mission

  JIEDDO – Joint Improvised-Threat Defeat Organization

  JSOC – Joint Special Operations Command, Command of Delta Force, SEAL Team 6, “Nightstalkers” 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment

  Mohawks – A name given to Iraqis that JSOC elements recruited and trained in espionage tradecraft

  NAI – Named Area of Interest

  NCTC – National Counterterrorism Center

  NOC – Non-official Cover operative

  NSA – National Security Agency

  OCONUS – Outside Continental United States

  ODA – Operational Detachment Alpha (standard 12-man Special Forces team)

  OEF – Operation Enduring Freedom

  OIF – Operation Iraqi Freedom

  OPTEMPO – Operational Tempo

  OPSEC – Operations Security

  Orange – Color coded name for JSOC’s Task Force Orange (TFO), the “Belvoir Boys” intelligence unit known as the Intelligence Support Activity (ISA)

  OSD – Office of Secretary of Defense

  PDB – President’s Daily Brief

  POTUS – President of the United States

  Quds Force – The covert operations part of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps

  ROE – Rules of Engagement

  RPA – Remotely Piloted Aircraft (drone)

  RUMINT – Rumor Intelligence

  SAP – Special Access Program, often considered Black Projects that are especially sensitive operations and can be excluded from standard contract investigations

  SAS – Special Air Service (British special forces)

  SCIF – Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility

  SECDEF – Secretary of Defense

  SIGINT – Signals Intelligence

  SMU – Special Mission Unit (within JSOC)

  SNA – Social Network Analysis

  SOCOM – Special Operations Command

  SOF – Special Operations Forces

  SOT-A – Special Operations Team-Alpha, a signals intelligence-electronic warfare element of the US Army Special Forces

  TF – Task Force

  UAS – Unmanned Aerial System

  UAV – Unmanned Aerial Vehicle

  USAP – Unacknowledged Special Access Program, a program made known to only authorized persons, including members of the US Congress special committees (often unconfirmed and verbal only)

  VEO – Violent Extremist Organization

  WMD – Weapon of Mass Destruction

  WILCO – Will Comply

  Waived SAP – Deep Black Programs, a subset of USAP whereas congressional members may be removed from the knowledge of such program existence

  Prelude

  Tunis, Tunisia, 20 years ago

  “Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar, Ash-hadu alla ilaha illa-llah…”

  CIA Chief of Station Alex Woolf heaved the metal spike down on target just as a blaring Muslim call to prayer echoed from Tunis’s Al-Zaytuna minaret loudspeakers. The monotone muezzin’s summoning startled pigeons to flight in the haze of the Mediterranean coastline, caromed through the ancient city’s tumbled stone thoroughfares, and pushed its way into the rustic kitchen as the ice pick did its bidding.

  Alex’s thirteen-year-old son, Warren Drake Woolf, stood abreast sweating profusely under Africa’s stifling heat as his father rhythmically stabbed the pick with force and requisite lesson. There was always a lesson. And that was just fine for Drake.

  Today, however, would set a new standard for lessons learned, propelling Drake into a dark future as judge and jury of men.

  Both males wiped their brows from the sweltering heat that the small room trapped like a prisoner barred from parole.

  “Drake, when you do this, don’t use one hand like me. Use both hands around the handle without interlocking fingers. Wrap them around…like a pistol grip.” He demonstrated to his nodding son. “Thumb on top so the force of impact doesn’t loosen your hold. Angle it slightly outward so it can’t slip and go into your stomach. Come down hard. If it sticks, rock it a bit to go deeper or to get leverage to break off a chunk. Got it?”

  “Yes, Sir,” his son parroted back with scant emotion, still transfixed by the seven-inch carbon steel pick. The boy processed what he was instructed and tucked it away for future recall. From the corner of his eye, Drake watched his Tunisian friends outside. They were standing behind the short white-washed back garden concrete wall. Waiting. Drake had left them over an hour ago after a pickup soccer match in the adjacent lot so he could continue his Berber language lessons. The Woolf family was headed to Northern Mali next month, and Mother was adamant that Drake get a head start on yet another Sahara-Sahel Arab dialect. It would be easier to make new friends with language, she insisted. What Princeton PhD in linguistics working for the State Department wouldn’t be so biased?

  The kitchen must have been over ninety degrees. Alex wiped his deep Sahara-tanned forehead again. Perspiration beads collected under his mustached upper lip until they swelled and dropped from the weight.

  “And why would it be bad for the pick to go into your stomach, Drake?” the spymaster tested.

  “Can’t sew it up.”

  “Correct. Deep punctures don’t heal as well as shallow ones. Especially if they hit vitals. And why else?”

  Why else? Drake’s face distressed as he searched the catalogs of his mind for the right answer. Was there something else? His dark brown eyes drew up and to the left as he racked his brain. What about the stomach? Something about stomach wounds. Drake’s tongue involuntarily clicked, a tic that validated aspects of a doctor’s diagnosis back in the States. God it’s hot in here. It’s always so hot.

  “Drake?” his dad pressed. “Why else?”

  Dad was rarely cross. At least not with this son. Drake anguished at the thought of missing something important from a lesson. “Because…because it would…the stomach…”

  “The stomach?” Dad crossed his arms. Head tilted.

  The body language jacked with Drake’s thinking even more. “I don’t remember,” he surrendered in a frustrated defeat. His head and shoulders slumped, but his fists balled, still in the fight. “Because it would…suck.”

  Alex Woolf’s tight lips broke into a coy smile. “Exactly. It would suck. Especially with a deep punctu
re into the gastrointestinal tract. A field medic would have to plug it. Maybe use a tampon or something if he didn’t have the right supplies. Not that a lot of guys have tampons in the field,” he joked.

  Drake visibly grimaced at the thought of blood. And of female hygiene products.

  “Sorry.” Alex grinned. “But anyway, use something to plug and absorb blood to buy time. Now that could also cause contamination, so you’re not out of hot water yet. Either way, a doctor will have to open the patient up, find the source of the bleed, and also treat for infection.” His eyebrows raised for impact. “It’s pretty major.” Alex popped an ice piece into his mouth. He lifted his son’s chin to make eye contact and crunched the frozen chip. “But it would definitely suck, bud. And the question sure isn’t important enough to stress over. Got it?”

  Drake nodded in understanding. But being trapped in his own compulsions was something that he, himself, couldn’t understand. He didn’t think that was really the right answer. And that bugged him to the point of neurotic distraction.

  The boy’s IQ was as off the charts, as was his height for a young teen. Tunisian couscous stews and merguez sausage, Drake’s food staple, were filling out his broad swimmer frame a plate at a time. Aside from his dark hair, he didn’t take after his mother’s lean Cypriot side of the family. But his OCD didn’t come from his father. Nor did Drake’s lack of confidence.

  “Is that really the answer? I meant ‘suck’ like not good, not sucking wound. I can’t remember the right word.” Drake still wore a mask of heavy concern. His tongue clicked again as he contemplated.

  “What?” Alex’s blank look showed no clue as to what had been said. And then it changed to revelation. Drake was still wrestling with closure. “Sheesh, let it go, Buddy. You’re maybe thinking pneumothorax? Like though a chest wall?”

  Pneumothorax! Yes. Drake perked up. “That’s the word. You taught me that last week.” Remember it. Pneumothorax. Pneumothorax. Pneumothorax. He recited to himself.

  Alex leaned against the tiled counter and lowered his voice. “Drake, no one in the field will say pneumothorax. They’ll say ‘suck.’ And we don’t need to talk about it, but the tongue clicking is getting louder again. There’s no need to be so concerned about an absolutely correct answer. Life’s not that clear.”